#I’m always like this before an event though and always super happy once I’m there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

naughtyneganjdm · 6 months ago

Text

Turn That Frown Upside Down

Summary: Billy is at home having a hard time dealing with his visions of Kessler. After trying to determine why Joe Kessler is the man that his brain conjured up, Joe reminds Billy why he's certain Billy chose him.

Characters: Billy Butcher, Joe Kessler & Hughie Campbell

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57520939

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Slash, Mocking, Dubious Consent, Butcher banging his imaginary best friend, etc.

Notes: This is a short little smutty slash fic that was inspired by this tumblr post made by @shirley-girly. Plus, I'd like to see Joe Kessler & Billy Butcher f*ck. I'm not gonna lie. Enjoy.

“You can’t ignore me forever you know,” Joe’s voice echoed in the back of Butcher’s mind again causing Billy to groan out in frustration. “You can’t get rid of me. Not with all that fun little super cancer growing inside of you. I’m here and I’m here to stay.”

“Ignoring ya has worked so far you cunt,” Billy pinched at the bridge of his nose, scoffing as he sank further into his couch, his thighs separating when he let out a frustrated breath. There wasn’t an escape from this because Joe was always there. Always mocking him whether he wanted him there or not.

“Aw, you’re being mean to me,” Joe spoke in a condescending manner as he dropped down on the couch beside Billy, his eyebrows bouncing up in amusement. “There’s the Butcher I know and love. The bastard of the man I always knew.”

“You’re not even real,” Billy blurt out as a reminder to his vision of his friend that he had lost back in the war. Maybe it wasn’t even a reminder to Kessler as much as it was a reminder to himself. The excitement of seeing Joe Kessler was something that had brought him some of the greatest happiness he had experienced in a while. Finding out he wasn’t real? Well that was an unfortunate event. Knowing that Kessler was part of him and the darkest parts of him was worse.

“I’m as real as you are motherfucker,” Joe reached out to curl his arm around Billy’s shoulders causing him to scoff. It was strange how he could still feel the touch and presence of Joe. It felt like Joe was really there even though Billy knew he wasn’t. “I’m as real as that cancer inside of your head.”

“Fuck off you wanker,” Billy snapped when Joe poked at his temple and he swatted Joe’s hand away. It had Joe snorting, his deep rumble of a laugh drawing chills down Billy’s spine.

“You say that now, but you don’t want me to leave,” Joe suggested, sliding down in a similar position to the way that Billy was sitting on the couch beside him. A long sigh fell from Joe’s lips when he wiggled his legs back and forth. “You want me here. You know that.”

“Oi, when I say fuck off, I mean fuck off,” Billy insisted, throwing his hand up again to give Joe the middle finger. It had Joe’s nose wrinkling in amusement before he shook his head.

“See, you say one thing, but your brain thinks another,” Joe lifted his hand to point at his own head, tapping at the temple. Unhurriedly, Billy tipped his head to the side to glance over Joe. “You keep forgetting that I am you. I’m a part of you. You don’t want me to go. You want me here because you miss me.”

“You’re a cunt, Kessler. You’re not even fucking real,” Billy retorted stressing once more what he knew to be the truth. “I don’t even know why my brain picked you. Of all the people in the world. It could have been Lenny. It could have been me dad. Instead, it was fucking you.”

“You know why it’s me,” Joe suggested which had Billy shifting on the couch, his eyes narrowing when Joe’s dimples became more prominent. “You may have left me there to die, but we both know how you felt about me…”

“I…” Billy paused, a lump growing in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Joe grunted, reaching up to loosen the tie around his throat. A wince fell from his throat when he adjusted his positioning on the couch again. “You focus pretty heavy on that waitress you fucked, but you were still with Becca when you did the things you did with me.”

“Shut up,” Billy sneered, his eyes narrowing at Joe from where he was smirking beside him. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, right. Sure. Nothing happened,” Joe mocked Billy, his head nodding about before a big, wolfish smile expanded out over his features. “Is that what you try to tell yourself at night to feel better about leaving me to die or is that something you’ve truly tried to make yourself believe? Because fuck, I sure as hell have a different memory.”

“I don’t get why I’m even bothering talking to you,” Billy tried to force himself to look away from Joe who turned on the couch to keep his stare locked on Billy. Joe’s hand outstretched to lay across the back of the couch behind Billy. It had Billy’s breathing growing louder with how Joe was locked on him as if expecting him to act a certain way. “Fuck off Kessler.”

“Maybe I can help you remember,” Joe’s voice was quiet and it had Billy sucking in a sharp breath of air. “I’ll go with the first time. Maybe that will fucking help you stir some shit up in your brain. It was late at night. We were alone in the tent. Drinking. Drinking a lot…”

“Stop,” Billy demanded, his voice raising with every muscle in his body tensing up.

“I remember distinctly you talking about missing the touch of someone. How you’d wake up with your cock hard every morning. How much you missed fucking,” Joe continued and in that moment it had a breath catching in Billy’s throat when he felt Joe’s hand lowering in over his thigh. “We started swapping stories, when…”

Billy’s eyes came to a tight close when he felt the warmth of Joe’s breath lingering at the side of his face. A tremoring exhale escape his throat when Joe started kissing at his jawline toward his neck. It had Billy’s lips parting, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. The sensation had Billy’s heart kickstarting in his chest and it felt like the room was spinning. Leisurely, Joe’s hand slid up further until Joe reached between Billy’s thighs cupping him firmly. Tipping his head back gave Joe room to start nipping at his flesh. The rough sensation of Joe caressing over his length had Billy holding back making a sound.

“Stop,” Billy screamed, shoving Joe back hearing his laugh fill the air when Billy knocked him away. “Enough.”

“You were uncomfortable then too. But I saw it. I saw it in the way you looked at me. The way you would watch me when we’d fucking shower. Stealing glances at my fucking dick every chance you got. Asking me to pull it out so we would have our dick measuring contests,” Joe hissed, moving forward again to grab a firm hold of Billy’s face to get him to lock in on him. “The way you followed me around like a lost fucking puppy dog, listening and doing everything I told you. You may pretend with others, but with me you couldn’t hide that fucking part of you. No, you couldn’t.”

“It was a mistake,” Billy winced surprised with the pain he actually felt from Joe’s grasp on his face.

“A mistake happens once. Not multiple times,” Joe claimed, his eyebrows furrowing when his lips pressed in closer to Billy’s. Sliding in closer to Billy, Joe’s fingers pulled apart Billy’s belt in a swift movement. Next was forcing open the button of Billy’s pants and then Joe’s rough fingertips tugged at the zipper. Instead of fighting him, Billy’s hips arched up when Joe’s fingers sank beneath the material of his pants. Once the strength of Joe’s fingers curled around his cock, Billy groaned out and closed his eyes. “Any chance we were alone, you were always crawling in beside me wanting me to play with your dick while you played with mine.”

“This isn’t real,” Billy tried to remind himself with a slur, his moan filling the air with Joe jerking him off. Grunting, Billy felt Joe releasing his face to help get the material of his pants to the bottom of his waist allowing Billy’s hard cock to bounce free from the prison it was behind.

“Tell that to your rigid fucking cock,” Joe teased Billy, hovering his lips over Billy’s. When Joe’s lips came crashing down over his, Billy didn’t fight him. In fact, he kissed him back. Hungrily. Wanting the sensation that it brought forth. Joe wasn’t gentle in the way he was stroking Billy’s manhood. Yet it had Billy thrusting his hips up toward the movements. “It’s just like it was then. You being a little bitch, yet inside your pants you couldn’t hide your erection. Thrusting your hips up into my grasp like the thirsty little fuck that you are.”

A deep rumble of a moan escape his lips when he felt Joe biting at his bottom lip, giving it a firm tug. It was rough and after Joe did it, Billy was certain he tasted his blood in his mouth afterward, “This was always how it started off. Drinking, getting close, being bitchy and it would lead to my hand down your pants and yours down mine. Jerking each other off. And once we came you’d run off at first. Until you started wanting more. There was always that curious side to you Butcher. The one that wondered what things felt like. You were such an alpha male that you needed to have that power taken away sometimes.”

“Don’t,” Billy whined when Joe started kissing down over the side of his neck. There had been so much pain lately from the way that he was feeling that the pleasure from the hand job was welcomed. Yet, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. To think about this.

“I promised you then that I wouldn’t tell anyone how you liked sucking my cock and having me do the same for you,” Joe grumbled, his nose nudging slightly at Billy’s jawline. Grasping tightly to Billy’s neck with his free hand, Joe forced Billy to tip his head back and bit at Billy’s neck having him wincing out. “Or how you would crawl into my cot sometimes to ride my cock.”

“No,” Billy tried to reach for Joe’s wrist to get him to stop.

“No? No to what Butcher? I’m part of you. And the real Joe would know the truth too,” Joe’s face scrunched up. A grunt fell from Butcher when he felt Joe tugging at his leg getting him to slide down onto the couch. Growling out, Butcher felt the strength of Joe turning him over onto his stomach. Pulling him up onto his knees. It had Butcher’s face pressing into the couch cushion when he felt the material of his pants being tugged down his thighs. “Come on Butcher. Let’s turn that frown upside down.”

“This isn’t happening,” Billy’s eyes slammed shut when he heard the sound of Joe’s belt being pulled open. There was shifting behind him, a weight change on the couch bringing him in closer to the warmth that was pressed against his bottom. Lazily opening his eyes, Billy watched Joe’s hand outstretch to reach for the drawer in the coffee table. Pushing things around had items falling to the floor before Joe grabbed a small bottle. A moment later, there was a pressure at the back of Billy’s head pushing him further into the couch. “This isn’t real.”

“Tell yourself whatever you have to make yourself feel better,” Joe’s voice rumbled from behind him with the slick sensation of the lube that had been grabbed pouring over his ass. It had Billy’s forehead clenching, his lip sucking into his mouth. “But notice you ain’t running from the idea Billy. You know just as much as I do why I was the person you conjured up.”

“Fuck,” Billy arched forward when he felt fingers prodding at his ass. It had him wincing out when he felt one finger being pushed inside of him before another working to open him up. It had been a while since he felt something like this, but he wasn’t rushing away from the idea of it. Joe wasn’t wrong. That was a part of him that he tried to push away for so long and hide. At first, Billy’s fingers dug into the material of the couch, wincing with the way that Joe’s fingers thrust inside of him. He was fighting just how much he truly wanted this. How much he needed to feel this.

“You were always my little bitch Billy,” Joe growled out, pulling his fingers from Billy’s body. There was another pop of the lid from the bottle that Joe grabbed before he was throwing it on the coffee table again. “And you loved every second of it.”

“Bloody hell,” Billy felt the fingers digging at his flesh pulling him back. Wincing out, there was a pressure at his tight hole with Joe lining himself up with Billy’s body. Groaning, Billy’s eyes squeezed shut when he felt the warmth of Joe’s cock pressing into him. It had him fighting to not make a noise. Joe was not one for subtle or taking time. In fact, the moment he thrust into Billy, he only gave him enough time to get used to the sensation of Joe before Joe’s hips were thrusting fast from behind. The sounds of flesh smacking filled the room and it had Billy humming out. “Kessler…”

“This is the Butcher I know,” Joe grunted from behind Billy, his hands bringing Billy firmly back against him while he fucked his former friend. “People would be so shocked to know that the Butcher they knew used to beg for me to fuck him in the middle of the night while pleading with me to let him come.”

“Shut up,” Butcher winced, his hand reaching back to squeeze at Joe’s flexing hip while the thrusts were forceful bouncing Butcher upwards. Keeping his eyes closed helped Billy focus on the pleasure of what it was drawing from him and he moaned out when he felt Joe’s left hand curling around him to wrap his fingers around Billy’s swollen cock. When Joe’s movements stopped it had Billy hissing out. “Keep going…”

“You want to come Butcher?” Joe leaned over Billy, biting at Billy’s earlobe before snickering. The warmth of Joe’s breath had chills running down Billy’s spine. “Then make yourself come. Fuck yourself on my cock like the bitch that you are.”

“I hate you,” Billy maintained with an angered sound after Joe pressed into the back of his head firmly burying it against the couch. Using the strength that he did have, Billy started rocking his hips backward taking Joe in. Then gradually pulled forward allowing him to pull out. It had a breath catching in Billy’s throat and with each movement Billy was able to make it stronger. At the same time, it had his hips bouncing forward toward Joe’s hand that was curled around his hard cock jerking him off. So he was getting stimulation both from his prostate and from fucking Joe’s hand.

“It sure looks like you don’t fucking hate me,” Joe’s moan was loud in Billy’s ear, the grasp Joe had on Billy’s hair growing tighter while Billy worked to fuck himself with Joe’s cock. “You always did love riding my cock Butcher. And you looked good doing it. Just like you do now. Sick and all…”

“Fuck…” Billy’s face grew hot, both of their breathing labored while Billy controlled the movements and the tempo that was set between them. He wanted it hard. He wanted it rough. He wanted to feel everything. There was a tightness in Billy’s testicles with his thighs tensing up. He was nearing an orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there,” Joe urged him on, his moans matching Billy’s with his fingers that were in Billy’s hair digging so tightly into his flesh that it felt like it would leave a mark. “Come on Butch…show your old friend just how much you hate him.”

Joe bit at Billy’s chin with Billy growling out when he felt the first line of his cum cover the couch beneath him. Keeping up with his movements, Billy rocked back against Joe until he reached the end of his orgasm. At the end, Joe took control pumping his hand furiously over Billy’s cock drawing him to moan out at the sensations it drew deep from within him.

“Uhm, Butcher,” another voice pulled Billy from the moment, drawing his head to turn to see that Hughie was standing at the door to his apartment holding onto the doorknob. Breathlessly glancing back over his shoulder, Butcher grumbled to himself when he saw that his vision of Joe was snickering and buckling his pants back together as he sat down. “I can come back if you’d like me to.”

“What did ya see?” Billy shakily stood up, his body weak when he pulled his pants together. Hughie’s face was red, his eyes doing their best to avoid making eye contact with Billy.

“Nothing,” Hughie stammered, waving his free hand up in the air to avoid the conversation.

“Oi, don’t be a cunt,” Billy called out, noticing that his cum was covering his hand and he reached for a tissue from the coffee table. “Tell me what you saw.”

“Well, you were on the couch…” Hughie pointed in the area of the couch, it had an amused expression over Joe’s face while he kept his hazel eyes locked on Billy. “You were humping what looked like the air while jerking off.”

“Oh,” Billy adjusted his clothing and sat down on the couch attempting to catch his breath.

Billy could have been embarrassed that Hughie found him in a fairly sexual position, but it wasn’t the worst position someone found him in so there was no reason to feel bad about it. He knew Hughie had seen worse, so it was what it was.

“Was I supposed to see something else?” Hughie stepped into the apartment, cautiously closing the door.

“Like what?” Billy cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders when Hughie moved across the room to sit on the coffee table before him. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” Hughie was quick to respond, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“There is a spot next to me,” Billy looked to the couch to see that the cushions were covered in his seed. Hughie made a disgusted face when Billy snatched another tissue to clean things up. “It’s not like it’s the worst thing you’d ever had happen to ya. Sitting in a bit of cum.”

“Right…” Hughie shifted uneasily on the coffee table before Billy. Tossing the tissue at the garbage, Billy missed by a long shot and grunted. “So you like the ass thing with the fingers. Annie has been trying to get me into the pegging thing. Started with one finger, worked her way to two, but…”

“I don’t need to hear about starlight fingering your asshole,” Billy was disgusted, scoffing out and waving his hand in the air.

“I just figured since you like ass play maybe you could give me some tips,” Hughie rambled when Billy groaned and got up from the couch. “You were using your fingers there and…”

“The boy has no idea how much you like ass play,” Joe snickered from behind Billy and it had Billy tensing up. “How do you think he would feel to know that you like being fucked in the ass by your imaginary fucking friend.”

“Shut up you wanker,” Billy retorted hearing Joe snort when Hughie went pale. Realizing that Hughie thought he was talking to him, Billy threw his hand up in the air and tried to think quickly of something. “If you like it. Do it. If you don’t. Don’t. It’s not that hard. It’s just a few fingers in your ass. How hard can it be?”

“Smooth,” Joe joked, stretching his legs out from where he was seated on the couch. There was a sense of arrogance flooding over his features and Billy realized there was no getting rid of this part of him. But Joe was right, he wasn’t sure he wanted him to go. After what just happened, Billy knew there was a part of him that he would have to start embracing and accepting. It didn’t mean he would tell anyone about it. He was fucking nuts after all. But there was a reason he picked Joe. As fucked up as it was, the answer was always right there for him to see.

#Billy Butcher #Karl Urban #Joe Kessler #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Joe Kessler fanfiction #Billy Butcher fanfiction #Billy Butcher x Joe Kessler #Billy Butcher smut #Joe Kessler Smut #The Boys #The boys fanfiction #Hughie Campbell #slash fiction

100 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 2 years ago

Text

It’s Never Over

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

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

Pairing: josh kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 17.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if you make me choose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does fame always entail looking soulless?”

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

“That seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he here?” You nodded.

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

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

“Yeah, obviously. You wouldn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was stupid.” He admitted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, agreeing with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” you hummed, agreeing with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

585 notes · View notes

crimsonwolf715 · 14 days ago

Text

Anaphylactic Response

(Not me having to read four of @Moonlight1234’s fics {on Ao3} to properly portray Damian 😭. Don’t worry, I talked with them about it first. Eventually I’ll be able to do it without help, y’all. 🙏 Thanks to my beta reader for reading over everything. 🎉 Also as a random little note, happy birthday to Barbara Gordon! TW: Anaphylaxis and hospitals)

Damian comes downstairs to find Barbara and Dick talking in the entryway.

“Is something happening today?” Damian asks.

“No,” Dick answers. “Barbara’s just here to help me.”

“Help you with what?”

“Making cupcakes for the police station’s bake sale to help something. The hospital if I remember correctly,” Barbara answers as Dick nods. “Do you wanna help, Damian? I have to because your brother will burn the house down, but you’re free to join us if you want.”

“I’ve baked with Alfred once or twice, so I guess I could be helpful,” Damian replies. “As long as you’re fine with it, I’d like to assist.”

“Of course you can help,” Dick says, giving Damian a side hug. A gesture that Damian returns with a small smile.

Barbara and Damian work on the cupcakes. While Dick originally tried to help, he was banished to sit on a bar stool at the counter because he almost put salt instead of sugar in the mix. So he fills the air with conversation about the upcoming gala.

“That sounds super boring,” Barbara says.

“They always are,” Damian replies.

“We can always get ice cream after,” Dick offers. “It won’t make the event any better, but something to look forward to, right?”

Damian thinks on the offer, then nods.

“That’s the spirit,” Dick says, ruffling Damian’s hair as Damian walks past.

Damian swats at Dick’s hand. “Stop that, Grayson. Cleanliness is important.”

“Fine.”

“Alright, time for you to put yourself to use, Dick. Get the first batch of cupcakes out of the oven and if you drop them, I will cut you,” Barbara says.

Dick sighs and rolls his eyes, then gets the cupcakes out of the oven.

“Beautiful,” Barbara says. “Thank you, tough guy.”

She pats Dick’s shoulder, then rolls over to Damian. “You good?”

“I don’t like the way this whisk’s handle makes my hand feel. It’s irritating,” Damian answers. “I’m done with it though so there’s no need to worry about it.”

“I’m glad that you’re good. Your brother does not look fine.”

Damian nods, then gives them a sly smile. “He has FOMO.”

Barbara nods. Damian looks up in enough time to see Dick smiling at the two. Damian hands Barbara the batter and she pours them into the wrappers.

“Alright, let’s get the second batch in and once they’re done, I’m gonna head out. I promised the girls that I’d chaperon their trip. Thanks for helping, Damian.”

“You’re welcome,” Damian says, then goes over to wash his hands to get rid of the irritating feeling.

Dick pulls the second batch out and after being checked, Barbara claps.

“Alright, we’re good to go. You have to frost those, but it’s just store bought frosting and Tim can help you if you really need it. I have to go, but I will see you guys later,” Barbara says. “You two should try the cupcakes before you send them.”

“I will later,” Dick says. “I think I’m gonna nap.”

“Lazy bum,” Barbara teases.

Dick sticks his tongue out at Barbara, who laughs.

She grabs Damian’s hand. “Goodbye, Damian.”

“Goodbye, Barbara.”

She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, then Dick walks Barbara out. Damian goes into the kitchen and looks at the two plates with a single cupcake on each. He grabs them and takes them into the living room. He puts them on the table.

Dick walks back in with a smile. “I’ll eat mine a little later Dami, but feel free to eat yours now.”

Dick sits down on the couch and leans his head back.

“Are you tired, Grayson?”

“Yeah, I haven’t slept the last couple of days. Been busy.”

“Take care of yourself, or I’ll tell Father and he’ll make you stay here.”

Dick laughs. “You wouldn’t.”

Damian smiles. “Try me, Grayson. I’ll do it.”

Dick sighs, but he’s still smiling. “Fine, I’ll get some sleep after patrol tonight.”

Damian looks back at the cupcake on the plate, contemplating actually eating it. He meticulously unwraps it.

“Any particular route you wanna take through Gotham tonight?” Dick asks.

“I don’t care as long as patrol gets done properly,” Damian replies, then takes a bite of the cupcake.

He puts it back down on the plate. Almost immediately after Damian feels like something is wrong with him. After a minute, his face starts to feel warm and he starts coughing.

“Damian?” Dick’s voice sounds far away.

He feels his throat start to close up.

“Dami!”

Damian’s legs give out and he falls. Someone catches Damian and he feels something stab into his leg. Instinctively, he lashes a hand out. It’s caught by the wrist and Damian doesn’t have the strength to fight back before blacking out.

Damian wakes up to hear a worried voice. There’s beeping. He opens his eyes and sees hospital equipment. Dick’s in the doorway, talking to someone.

The worried voice is his.

Damian hears the beeping picking up speed, then Dick turns.

“Hey, Dami.”

He goes over and sits in the chair at Damian’s bedside.

“What happened?” Damian asks, his voice coming out a little hoarse.

Dick cringes.

“You had a bad reaction to something in the cupcake. Considering the recipe, we’re leaning towards something in the avocado oil,” Dick says. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”

“What are you sorry about? It’s not like you knew what would happen and gave it to me anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So don’t apologize. There’s no need. Is it just us?”

“You wish,” Dick replies. “Stephanie and Cass are the only ones not here because they’re off with Barbara. Everyone else is here. Most of them just got here, but all of them are here.”

Damian fights the urge to groan at his family’s absurdity.

“Dad’s talking to the doctor right now for us to set up a time for you to get an allergy test. Damn, I feel stupid for not thinking of this before.”

“It’s not like any of the rest of us thought of it. You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe,” Dick mutters.

Jason and Tim poke their heads into the room and look relieved to see Damian awake.

“Hello, Todd. Drake.”

They settle down in chairs around the bed and Damian feels an odd sense of gratitude. Even though he feels that it’s ridiculous that almost his whole family showed up, he’s glad they’re there. Jason and Tim attempt to distract Damian until Bruce comes in.

“How are you?” Bruce asks, standing behind Dick’s chair with his hands on the headrest.

“I’m fine,” Damian answers.

Dick and Tim raise an eyebrow while Jason scoffs.

“Stop that, Todd.”

Jason shrugs.

Bruce and Damian make eye contact for a moment, then Bruce nods. “Alright, I’ll take it for now. The test is set for a month from now. They want you to have time to fully recover from this before they expose you to anything else.” Damian nods.

“Thank you, Father.”

Bruce nods.

While listening to his family talking to each other, Damian falls asleep again.

41 notes · View notes

plutoccult · 11 months ago

Text

FINGER LICKIN’ YEAH WE COOKIN’ UP A SUPER BOWL

pairing: osamu miya x female reader

description: osamu wasn’t a fan of football nor parties. however, it is only you that could convince him to agree to atsumu’s shenanigans.

word count: 4.4k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: SURPRISE!!! i had intended to write for osamu before, but the idea instead went to another character. i never forgot about my foodie king though! plus, it’s super bowl sunday, so i HAD to put this out in enough time. the idea came last minute, so i was in a bit of a rush, but i managed! sorry if it seems rushed, i truly was trying my best to get this done in time. i also apologize if anyone seems ooc, i was honest to god trying my best. for timeline’s sake, i’d say the twins are 21 in this one shot, so not quite yet to the point where osamu has his own onigiri shop and atsumu is on the japan national team. anyway, happy super bowl sunday, and enjoy! (btw i totally named this after super bowl by stray kids)

tags: @toorubobatea @intorder @dragon-slayer5 @femme-lune @darthferbert @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @intheewrld

taglist form here

osamu wasn’t thrilled when his twin atsumu sprung the idea of having a super bowl party on him out of nowhere.

“they do it in america! it’s huge there!” his twin argued, detailing everything he knows about the tradition. sure, they do air the event in japan, but what was the point? an excuse to eat and drink? hangout with their buddies from both the past and present? actually, no. osamu figured out atsumu’s motive quickly; it was an excuse for osamu to cook a bunch of food.

there was no denying atsumu was clueless in the kitchen. if it were up to him to cook anything more complex than eggs and toast, he’d burn the whole place down. osamu was better off handling majority of anything food related. his brother was lucky he enjoyed the art of cooking.

“i’m not dealing with a stupid party, tsumu.” osamu crossed his arms in protest. there was no way he was going to deal with an inevitable mess. having to cook all the food and clean up the mess after? nope, no way. he refused to do it alone. luckily, his twin could figure that out quickly.

“ah, ah, ah. i knew you’d say that.” atsumu smirked. “y/n already told me she’d help you make the food.”

the mention of your name immediately perked up osamu. best friends since high school, it was blatantly obvious you had captured the shyer twin from the start, although—like with everyone else—he could easily assume you were more drawn to atsumu as he was always so unashamedly outspoken. everyone talked to atsumu more, but even so, you always treated the twins equally. mayhaps that is why he longed for you so much.

“y/n did?” osamu asked.

“and she’s bringing cake.” his brother added.

a woman after his own heart, really, and a foodie just like osamu. you always joked about opening a bakery next door once he finally opened up the onigiri shop he dreamed of. the goal was sometime next year, so maybe catering this party would be good practice. plus, it was a good excuse to be close to you like osamu craved.

“she is?” he questioned further. if his brother wasn’t kidding around, then maybe he’d feel more inclined to agree.

“you’re not gonna say no, right?” atsumu teased. osamu grunted in response, too stubborn to say anything, which atsumu recognized. it is only his twin who can easily detect his weakness; you.

“you’re such a sucker, osamu.” he chuckled. even if osamu were a sucker for you, he wouldn’t want to be one for anyone else. and it’s not like he’s totally clueless. he’d mess with his twin somehow.

“i’ll do it…“ osamu said before stating his only condition. “if you clean up the place afterwards.”

“what?!” atsumu gawked.

“it’s only fair, right?” osamu shrugged. two can play at that game. “i cook, you clean.”

unfortunately, atsumu had no choice but to suck it up. truth be told, he orchestrated you assisting with food preparations for the sake of getting you and osamu together alone. if he says no now, then his little secret wingman plan would be a waste, so atsumu had to accept his fate.

“pft, ass.” he huffed. atsumu should’ve known better than to try playing games with his brother, knowing he could easily match his game.

“just be lucky i agreed to your idiocy.” osamu scoffed.

“only because y/n is helping!” atsumu whined. while that may be true, osamu would probably never hear the end of it if he said no whether you were involved or not.

“did i hear only onigiri on the menu?” osamu joked, knowing that would irritate his twin to no end.

“osamu!”

truth be told, he couldn’t wait for sunday now.

•••

over the next few days, osamu had kept in almost constant communication with you over text discussing food options for the party. his signature onigiri was a must despite atsumu’s protest, but other options were in store thanks to your combined brainstorming. osamu couldn’t help but ask what kind of cake you’d bring, and was ultimately disappointed when you said it was a surprise with many winky emojis involved.

when sunday finally rolled around, osamu was more energized than usual. whether that be from excitement or nerves, who knew? atsumu’s plan was going in motion quite nicely and you hadn’t even arrived yet. he truly felt like a genius assisting in his brother’s quest for love.

osamu paced back and forth around the apartment in anticipation for your arrival. the kitchen was spotless, plus the fridge and cabinets were filled to the brim with everything needed for the party. on top of that, he put atsumu up to the task of decorating the place. knowing who would have to deal with cleaning up later was the greatest part of all.

once a knock on the door emerged, the two twins battled over who got to open the door, osamu ultimately losing as his brother elbowed him in the stomach and made a run for it. if there were a best sibling award, it was clear who wouldn’t win it.

“hello, miya twins! i’ve arrived!” you said upon entering the door, your arms occupied with bags, hopefully full of sweet treats.

“hey, y/n.” atsumu greeted you, beating osamu to it as he was still recovering from what occurred just moments ago.

you—already knowing your way around the place—set your bags down on the counter before instructing that they put its contents in the fridge as soon as possible. atsumu obliged despite wondering how he would play tetris with the fridge. but before he could figure out that puzzle, he received a quick hug from you as that was your typical greeting for the twins.

“y/n?” you turn around and see osamu standing a few feet away. he wanted to curse his brother for getting to say hi to you first, but once he saw that smile on your face, all anger towards atsumu faded away in an instant.

“ah, there you are!” you exclaim, rushing towards osamu and welcoming him with a big hug, one that lasted longer than the one you shared with atsumu. you held him tight, almost squeezing the life out of him as you pulled him from side to side. it didn’t matter that he couldn’t breathe, osamu was just happy to feel so welcomed by you.

“ready to cook up a super bowl?” you ask once you finally allowed osamu the ability to breathe. “i already made desserts in advance, so i can help with what you’ve got planned.”

“i could’ve helped with that…” osamu pouted. any more excuse to be around you was all he wanted, really. plus, he was curious to know your baking secrets. he always figured you were born a master.

“but that would ruin the surprise, silly.” you poke his arm. if it were his stomach, he might have folded over. thank god you were gentle.

as much as you wanted your desserts to remain a surprise until the party started, atsumu had to immediately ruin the fun for you. “there’s a cake shaped like a football.”

“atsumu!” you scold him. “ever heard of surprises, or has your brain become mush from too many volleyballs to the head?”

“yeah, yeah.” atsumu rolled his eyes. “i’ll leave you two to get started with everything. i trust you not to burn the place down.”

“only you would do that, tsumu.” you say. the way you teased atsumu was something osamu always loved about you. you were just as relentless as him, truly. besides, someone else besides osamu had to humble the ever-so-bold twin.

“exactly. later!” atsumu said before he left you and osamu alone in the kitchen.

osamu let out a sigh the moment his brother left the room. you immediately take notice, assuming he didn’t want to be doing this for atsumu. you hoped at the very least he enjoyed your presence today.

“i take it you’re doing all this against your will?” you question, curiosity getting to the best of you.

“not exactly…” osamu replied.

“well, i couldn’t really say no to him, so…” you shy away from the truth. it would be embarrassing if you were to admit to osamu why you agreed to this, but he was painfully oblivious, assuming it was all for his brother’s sake. not because you wanted to spend time with him and only him. it seemed you were both hiding your intentions.

“yeah, of course.” osamu frowned. it’s atsumu we’re talking about.

tension quickly filled the room. you sense the uncomfortable vibe instantly, wondering if you said something wrong. was it really something you said? you didn’t seem to think so. maybe getting things started in the kitchen for the party will help.

“shall we get started?” you ask hesitantly. “i was thinking we shape the onigiri into footballs. ya know, to fit the theme.”

osamu chuckled at your idea. at least you could see him smile now. he seemed to find it cute, but also funny how you wanted to make as many items on the menu football shaped as possible.

“i could try that.” he said, trying to hold back any more laughter. if osamu were to laugh any more, he was afraid you’d think he was making fun of your idea.

“cool, i’ll get started on the wings while you get started on that.” you say without skipping a beat, immediately grabbing ingredients like you knew this kitchen as if it were your own.

osamu didn’t seem to mind it this way with you around. he’d spend the whole day in the kitchen with you, even if all you did was sit on the counter and watch while he did all the work. but that’s not who you are, you refused to leave him to do everything. most importantly, you refused to let him feel alone.

soon enough, the kitchen grew quiet, the sounds of timers beeping and water running from the sink on occasion serving as background noise. you and osamu worked together in perfect harmony, like a well oiled machine. your chemistry oozed in the room and neither of you had to say a word to each other. it was easy for you two to figure out who did what most effiently. osamu could never do this with anyone else this way, you feeling the same way, although those thoughts remained unspoken.

the lack of chatter made atsumu worried. he had been trying to eavesdrop while he was supposed to be decorating, but found it to be too quiet for his liking. as atsumu tried to lean a little more, hoping to hear something worthwhile, he ended up tripping over an extension cord, blowing his cover as he tripped right into the kitchen.

atsumu’s sudden crash startled the both of you, osamu almost dropping the pot in his hands and you almost slicing your finger as you chopped an onion.

“atsumu!” you yell as you set your knife down. atsumu was lucky you didn’t decide to threateningly wave it around right now. “the hell are you doing?!”

“it got quiet, so i was getting worried…” he answered, slowly getting back to his feet as he feared for his life. would atsumu rather face his brother’s wrath or your wrath? both of you together may be the worst combination of all, really.

“what, worried that we disappeared and left you with all this food to cook?” you cross your arms. “osamu said you were decorating, and this doesn’t look like decorating to me.”

“i was taking a break?” atsumu shrugged. that was the worst answer in the world, even he could admit that.

“just go.” osamu let out a groan. it was bad enough that atsumu used you as a way to persuade him to cook for the party, but to eavesdrop on what you two were doing? what was he trying at here? as much as osamu was curious to know, he just wanted to get back to cooking with you without any worries.

“fine…” atsumu sighed, going back to the dreadful duty of decorating all by his lonesome. the sacrifices he’s made for the sake of his brother and the girl he’s loved for years. how tragic… not.

once atsumu left, you burst into laughter. osamu furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “what’s so funny?”

“oh, just the look on his face when he got caught.” you giggle.

“yeah…” he said. it was funny, osamu could admit that, but he feared that his twin had devious plans up his sleeve. who knows if he’ll make it through the end of the day with some sort of dignity left?

•••

hours later, atsumu’s teammates from the black jackals arrived for the party. osamu was acquainted with some of them—most definitely more than acquainted with a certain pipsqueak named shoyo hinata—but he was more looking forward to seeing some of his teammates from high school, especially aran and kita. he would talk to suna, but the poor guy looked like he wanted to leave more than anything.

you seemed quite occupied at the moment, mostly due to bokuto talking your ear off about how delicious the cookies you made were. you were more than aware of his loud personality, but seeing it up close was far different than just watching him play on the court. at least you knew it wasn’t for show during matches.

osamu considered being your knight in shining armor by finding an excuse to steal you away, but he feared facing the embarrassment of his friends who wouldn’t hesitate to tease him. even if you looked at him with pleading eyes, he still hesitated. if only osamu had the guts to be a little brave for once, not standing in the shadows.

“samu…” atsumu called for him. osamu turned his attention away from watching you to see what his brother wanted, although a little annoyed.

“hm?”

“we’re out of rice. can you make more?” he asked.

osamu blinked a few times, unsure if he actually heard that correctly. “we’re… out?”

“kita ate it all up.” atsumu said.

“really?” osamu groaned. he didn’t even want to think of the logistics of his former captain eating so much rice so quickly. “grow your own rice or something, man.”

“maybe i will…” kita replied calmly, now pondering over the thought of becoming a rice farmer. it didn’t seem so bad, actually. unfortunately, the rice couldn’t just grow and magically appear already cooked. osamu wished it worked that way.

“i’ll go make more.” osamu sighed. “call for me when it’s halftime.”

once he left to head to the kitchen, you watched as he walked away, tempted to follow. maybe if you found an excuse to leave the room, like go get a drink or go to the bathroom or something. that oughta work, right?

“hey, bokuto?” you stop him mid sentence as he was still going on about your baking. “i gotta go to the bathroom. i’ll be back, okay?”

“don’t forget to give me your cookie recipe!” bokuto exclaimed as you left the living room.

atsumu raised an eyebrow upon your sudden exit, a smirk creeping up on his face soon following once he put the pieces together. “she’s not going to the bathroom…”

you find osamu already cooking, the rice cooker at work while he prepared more rice to be cooked just incase. he’d rather be safe than sorry now. osamu didn’t notice you walk in at first, but your presence became apparent soon enough once you tapped him on the shoulder.

“man, you scared me.” he chuckled, you also sharing a laugh with him. “you don’t have to help me. i’ve got this.”

“what, want some practice for when you finally open up that restaurant?” you question. osamu furrowed his eyebrows, asking “huh?” until you explained what you meant. “onigiri miya. i’ve been waiting.”

“oh, right…” osamu said, almost forgetting that little dream of his. “that.”

“well, when is it finally gonna happen?” you ask. he had talked about it for so long, and you always waited for the day it’d finally come to fruition. you probably believed in him more than he’s ever believed in himself, honestly.

“mmm, i don’t know.” he replied shyly. “next year would be nice, but there’s so many things to think about.”

“wait, really? why didn’t you tell me?!” you gasp, shocked he’d hide such an important detail from you.

“it’s just, uh, kinda scary when you admit it out loud.” osamu said. his dream of opening up his own restaurant was as scary as trying to admit the truth of his feelings. dreaming is one thing, but trying to make it a reality was another.

“samu, you know you can do it! i’ve always believed in you!” you admit, taking osamu by surprise despite how confident you always spoke about him.

“you have?”

“yes!” you say without hesitation. “from the day i met you.”

“wow, thank you…” osamu blushed. you get lost in each other’s eyes, although osamu wondered if it’s just in his imagination that you’re staring at him so intently. suddenly, the moment was ruined.

“hey, do you smell something burning?” you question as you try to sniff out the strange smell. osamu figured it out immediately, knowing it was the rice everyone was waiting on.

“the rice!” he exclaimed, rushing to the rice cooker. “i put the rice cooker on high so it’d get done faster…”

“aw, no!” you say. “is it salvageable?”

“no…” osamu sighed, looking down at the damage. “if anything, it’s a sign i shouldn’t have my own restaurant.”

to him, this was stupid. if he doesn’t do everything perfectly, then what’s the point? it seemed to silly to immediately think the worst, that this was a sign of imminent failure. osamu was good at keeping that competitive perfectionist part of him hidden to most, always making it seem like he just gets everything right the first time, but only you can see that he has flaws. at the end of the day, you continue to be his weakness, but that doesn’t mean you don’t make him feel strong.

“hey, hey, hey.” you grab his arm, a jolt coming from osamu by your sudden touch. “you overcook rice one time and all of the sudden your dream is dead? chefs mess up all the time. you’re human, you know. i think you’ve forgotten that.”

“but—”

“i mean, come on. you think i just magically knew how to make a cake one day?” you ask jokingly. even if you meant for the question to be a silly one, osamu took it quite literally.

“honestly? yeah. the first time you brought cake to school for me and sumu’s birthday was the best thing i ever tasted.” he said, recalling your first year of high school together. you hadn’t been friends with the twins for that long at that point, but you decided to surprise them with a cake for their birthday as it fell on a school day. like osamu said, it was the best thing he ever tasted. he felt like he found his future wife in that moment.

“samu, i spent all night making like five different cakes cause i kept messing them up.” you confess. it was a secret you carried for years, shocked you never said anything before, but only just now having the guts to say it. even so, osamu couldn’t believe it to be true. he always swore your skills came to you like second nature. how come he never knew before? you were very good at hiding things, it seemed.

“you did? why?” he asked.

“because…” you hesitate. might as well fess up, you suppose. “i really wanted you to like it.”

“me and tsumu?” osamu questioned. what an idiot.

you shake your head, almost tempted to laugh over how blind he was to what you were trying to say. part of you was a little frustrated, but you wouldn’t let that get to the best of you. “you really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

“i guess i am…” he replied, unsure of what else to say.

you let out a sigh. should you say it? the whole truth? you didn’t know it, but you were in the same boat as osamu. you did this for each other without even realizing it. it is you, however, who will be brave enough to admit such a truth. no going back now after you’ve already admitted so much.

“i only agreed to helping with this party because atsumu knew i wanted an excuse to be close to you.” you tell him, looking away. osamu swore you looked ashamed to say those words out loud, but even so, the truth shocked him to the very core.

“he… what?”

when you grant yourself the guts to look him in the eye once more, the look on his face made you think you shouldn’t have said anything. but osamu wanted to scream, scream about how long he liked you and how he never thought he’d see this day. he didn’t know if the universe planted the seeds for this very moment, but he couldn’t let it slip away. not when you believed in him like it was breathing.

“nothing. don’t worry about it.” you shake your head. “i’ll help you restart the rice. hungry people waiting.”

“no.” osamu stopped you. you freeze in your tracks, waiting for what else he had to say. “forget the rice.”

“huh—”

“why do you think i told tsumu i’d help with this party?” he asked. you’re at a loss for words, unsure of what to say. it is usually you who stood tall, but osamu took your place, taking charge for the sake of making sure you knew the truth. “i said i would because he told me you were coming here. he knew you were the only thing that’d get me to say yes. called me a sucker and everything.”

your cheeks flush, a smile creeping up on your face as the realization of osamu’s mutuals feelings hit you. “guess i’m a sucker too.”

osamu let out a sigh of relief, overcome with joy as he couldn’t control his grin. with that look on your face, he almost wanted to kiss you right then and there. should he kiss you right now? no, osamu should ask permission first. couldn’t be too confident, right? or were you trying to say something with your eyes? god, osamu didn’t have a clue on what to do.

“can you two please just kiss already so i can get back to the party?”

you and osamu share a gasp. it was atsumu, no doubt about it. that bitch, you both think to yourselves. was he eavesdropping on that whole conservation? pause. now they both knew atsumu did all of this on purpose. he had a lot of explaining to do, that’s for sure.

without having to speak a word, you and osamu find atsumu in the hallway, both tugging him by his shirt and pulling him to the ground. your combined anger undoubtedly scared the shit out of him.

“you!” you grab the collar of atsumu’s shirt. “you set this all up!”

“i bet you don’t even like football!” osamu yelled.

“yeah!” you say in agreement without thinking.

“hey, i’m innocent, your honor! innocent!” atsumu raised his hands up in the air, squeezing his eyes shut as he anticipated one of you to start hitting him.

“no wonder you agreed to clean if i cooked!” osamu exclaimed.

“he agreed to clean?!“ you loudly gasp. funnily enough, that was the most shocking thing you’ve heard all day.

“listen to me, okay?!” atsumu forced your hand away from his collar. you take a step back and give him the chance to speak, although you were more than prepared to start swinging if need be. “i just really wanted you two to stop being wusses about your feelings. now you both know, all thanks to me.”

you and osamu soften up. even if it seemed a tad bit manipulative, neither of you could deny that it was actually kind of… sweet? all that cooking was a pain in the ass, but it brought you together and pushed you to admit your truths.

“i really do like you, osamu.” you say, looking into osamu’s eyes, not wavering for a second. there was no need for either of you to hide anymore. “since the day we met.”

“me too.” osamu replied, the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen plastered on his face.

“i sense a super emotional moment—” atsumu tried to say in the midst of his escape attempt. however, you grab him by the wrist, almost pulling his arm by his socket. “ow!”

“come here.” you pull him in for a hug, osamu too, practically squeezing the two to death. “you’re a pain, but thank you, atsumu.”

“can i go now?” he asked, trying his best to writhe out of your grasp. you were strong, atsumu couldn’t deny that.

“yeah, yeah. get outta here.” you scoff as you let him free.

atsumu mumbled some words over how it was “about damn time” on his way out, which sent you and osamu into a fit of giggles. once the laughter died down, reality set in. now both you knew that you liked each other, so what now? what else was there to do?

“so…”

“so..?”

“you think they’re all still waiting on that rice?” you ask awkwardly.

that was the last thing osamu cared about in this moment, truly. he waited so long for this, never thinking there ever was a chance. dare he ask you to pinch him would seem silly now. all he wanted to do now was finally kiss you without hesitating.

“oh, screw the rice.” osamu said, grabbing your hand as he pulled you close and pressed his lips against yours. your hand that clasped his rested over his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your touch. has his heart always beat this fast in your presence for all this time, you couldn’t help but wonder. it was safe to say no one was getting their rice now, but neither of you gave a damn.

meanwhile, in the living room, atsumu finally returned, although with an irritated look on his face. he sat down in between bokuto and hinata, who were both curious about the food.

“hey, how’s the rice going—” hinata began to ask before being quickly cut off by atsumu.

“just watch the stupid game.”

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyu x female reader #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x female reader #osamu miya x female reader #osamu x female reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #pluto writes 📝#gif divider by cafekitsune

143 notes · View notes

hetafice · 1 year ago

Note

Yesssss yandere hetalia!! Can I request yandere Russia

hey! i’m combining this with another request that asked for ivan with an introverted s/o. hope you enjoy nonetheless.

yandere!russia headcanons :

Ivan is a man who contains innumerable facades. Vulnerability is hard to get from him, which is why he is so taken aback when he meets his darling. Anyone special enough to catch his attention and keep it must have some sort of hold over him -- and he cannot have that.

He would initially try to distance himself from you, and then after realizing that does not work, he would try to exercise as much control over the situation as possible.

He takes an almost managerial role, employing the use of strict guidelines and occasional punishments to gain a semblance of control.

Once he acknowledges his feelings towards you he will sit and machinate ways to get you to reciprocate his feelings. He regards you as an object that he needs to get sooner rather than later. He would understand that it might be difficult to get you to come off your own volition, so he is not entirely against using force to get you to be with him should his attempts at courting fail.

Ivan often finds himself exhibiting certain behaviors not because he wants to, but because he thinks that these behaviors are what a normal person would do. This leads him to think that presenting himself in a certain way would make you feel comfortable around him, or win your romantic favor -- in reality, they end up coming off as stilted and strange.

If he ends up entering a long-term relationship with you, he’ll likely stop putting up airs, leaving you interacting with someone much more stoic and withdrawn.

Contrary to popular opinion, he is not really hotheaded or quick to violence, and will not let his true emotions overtake his carefully curated mask very often. He is a quick thinker and will remain efficient under pressure. However, should you do something to upset him, he will act quickly and decisively. He loves you deeply, but to him, to truly love someone is to try and bring the best out of that person. He will do so by whatever means necessary.

That isn’t to say that he’s always cold though. He’s happy to dote on you should he think the situation calls for it.

Ivan, however, is no stranger to betrayal. Should you try to leave, exhibit suspicious behaviors, attempt to undermine his authority, or oppose him politically -- there will be dire consequences.

Unlike other yanderes, he has no qualms about hurting you. Ivan witnessed extreme horrors during his childhood, and as such is desensitized to most violence. He will not harm you unprovoked, but should you test him, you will find out how cold and cruel he truly can be.

A more introverted partner may actually suit the life he has planned out for them. Once he finds love he is likely to whisk his partner off to the countryside for a time, rarely to be seen in public.

In the event of an extended business trip, he may take you along, depending on the location. Like countless things before you, people will try and use you against him. Because of this, he would never expose you to an enemy. Should he have a trip domestically, or somewhere he deems low risk he will take you with him. If not, you are expected to sit content in your idyllic countryside home until the two of you can bask in each other’s company again.

Ivan is not super controlling, but he does have a set of rules that you are meant to abide by.

He also places importance on appearances, so you would be coached on how to conduct yourself in formal situations so that onlookers would have nothing negative to say about the two of you. That is why he may implement dress codes, or designate certain discussion topics as off-limits.

After sequestering you away in the middle of nowhere, if you perform well enough, he may move back to the city. He can use extreme methods, but he is not a complete monster. On a deep subconscious level, he craves normalcy. So seeing you navigate life around other people but still choosing to come back to him “willingly” may help him feel vaguely fulfilled.

He is the type to allow you to pursue most hobbies, and would not stop you from expressing individuality or possessing a sense of self. He does however want to make sure that you constantly view yourself as not just an individual, but as a part of a unit. With everything you do, there needs to be a consideration of how it’ll affect both of you.

In his more subdued moments, he treasures domesticity and would like to occasionally dote on you. He'll be pleased if you occasionally let him cook for you or pick out your outfits.

On the same token, he wants to feel as though you depend on him. Not enough to where you can’t exist without his constant care, but enough to know you are appreciative of all he does for you, and that you are hesitant to leave him.

If you follow the rules and do not awaken his feelings of intense paranoia, you can live somewhat normally.

#yandere hetalia #hetalia x reader #yandere russia #hws russia #hetalia #requests are still open!#hetalia headcanons #i'm gonna hide this in the tags #but i hate the interpretation of russia as some unhinged madman #like yes he is deeply traumatized but he still has his wits abt him #like to me he is a deeply intelligent man #idgaf the tortured madman troupe is derivative #anyways hope u enjoyed

116 notes · View notes

behindthesoul · 2 months ago

Text

Itching In My Heart (smut)

Havik x Bi-Han

Summary: Havik does his best to find an ally in Bi-Han in his search for chaos. Bi-Han does his best to not be easily swayed by temptation.

Word Count: 2,557

Warnings: Bottom!Bi-Han, top!Havik, handjobs, anal fingering, spit as lube, no anal penetration, slight overstimulation, not proofread, slightly AU-ish? this is kind of my own canon because I didn’t feel like rewatching Khaos Reigns to make sure the plot was “lore accurate”

A/N: Wrote this for a good friend of mine, it took some time for me to get this done because I’m not super used to writing less popular ships. I am happy with how this turned out, though! May or may not be a part two depending on reader interest. Comments appreciated!

—

A harsh wind blows through the desolate peaks of the Lin Kuei temple, alerting the world to find comfort indoors. The Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster remains awake, standing at the edge of the temple’s courtyard, his eyes narrow at the swirling storm clouds overhead. His breath frosts in the air, mirroring the ice that clings to his soul. No longer held back by the restraints of his family, Bi-Han begins to relish in the thought of finally shaping the Lin Kuei to his vision.

But a new force begins to rise, and it takes a new form – one that defines a sense of order, a form that Bi-Han simply cannot ignore.

“You seek freedom,” came a raspy voice, a voice that would no doubt harm the throat if it were spoken by an average person. It echoes through the courtyard, a twisting sound that seems to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Bi-Han’s muscles tense. His hands instinctively forming fists, a frost slowly creeping over them. He turns, icy eyes attempting to fixate on the figure emerging from the shadows. A gaunt, disheveled man. A mutilated face. A pair of cloudy, slightly opaque eyes. A presence that taints the surrounding air.

“Havik,” Bi-Han mutters, his voice cold, yet holds a hint of curiosity. He had heard whispers of the Titan, a madman who cared not for order and peace. His motives were always shrouded in chaos, and yet here he stood before the Lin Kuei Grandmaster.

Havik grins – well, attempts to grin – and his eyes gleam with a manic light. “You know me, Sub-Zero. And I know you. You seek power… freedom. The order you serve, the realm you protect – it’s a lie, a cage.”

Bi-Han’s gaze flickers with momentary doubt, though it’s quickly masked with his usual stoicism. “The Lin Kuei serve no one, we protect ourselves.”

A low, gravelly chuckle escapes Havik’s lips. “Is that so? Yet I see chains, invisible to the eye but no less real. You’re bound to the realm, to the destiny laid before you. But I can offer you something different… something pure.”

Bi-Han’s eyes remain fixed on the…thing before him, yet his thoughts churn beneath the surface. Power, respect, what he seeks – ultimate control over his fate, over the Lin Kuei, over those who dare disrespect him. But Havik’s words stir something in him, a strange allure in the promise of something so unknown to him.

“You speak in riddles,” Bi-Han says, his tone dismissive. “If you seek my aid in your madness, you’ll find I am not so easily swayed.”

Havik takes a step closer, his head tilted, his heart racing. “Not madness – truth. Order is the true insanity, the belief that anything in this universe can be controlled. Chaos is the natural state of things, the only true power.”

A gust of cold wind swirls around them, but Havik stands unfazed by the chill, as though it barely touched him. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Imagine a world without rules, without being reduced to Earthrealm’s lapdog. A world where the strong truly prevail. You are already close to breaking free, Sub-Zero. Let me show you the final step.”

Bi-Han’s exterior cracks for a moment as he considers Havik’s words. He thinks back to past events – cursing Liu Kang, his brothers defecting from the Lin Kuei – ties that had been severed because they held him back, bound him to a code he no longer believed in. The chaos that Havik spoke of – a world without restraint, without rules – appealed to him more than he cared to admit.

And yet…

“You think I would follow you into this insanity?” Bi-Han’s voice was a low growl, not wanting to give in just yet.

Havik’s grin only widens, his hands slightly trembling with perverse delight. “Not follow, Bi-Han. Lead. Chaos is not about subjugation or surrender. It’s about liberation. You have the power to forge your path through the frozen wastes of this universe. Together, we can unshackle the realms themselves.”

Bi-Han’s eyes flicker to the ground, a move uncommon by someone of his status. He doesn’t respond immediately, but silence speaks volumes.

Havik lets out another low chuckle, knowing the seed he’s planted is already beginning to grow.

“Think about it, Grandmaster,” Havik purrs. “Earthrealm, laid bare. No Liu Kang to write destiny for you. Instead, the pen rests in your hands.”

And in that moment, Bi-Han’s mind churns with possibilities – the thought of forging his own path is something he couldn’t resist.

He doesn’t say yes.

But he doesn’t say no, either.

Bi-Han eyes dart left, then right, then back to Havik. Having someone like him out in the open where anyone can see? Not a very good look. He motions with his hand for the man to follow him before quickly walking out of the courtyard. The interior of the Lin Kuei palace is a sight Bi-Han is all too familiar with, yet his heart beats faster with every breath he takes. Havik’s thick scent floats through the air, contaminating anything in his path. Bi-Han refuses to turn his head and look back at Havik, instead focusing on the footsteps behind him. They’re heavy, a sharp sound that rattles the ground. Each footfall is disorganized, the lack of rhythm directly contrasting Bi-Han’s light, poise steps. Bi-Han mentally curses, hoping no one is alarmed by such a noise. He swears that he can feel Havik’s breath warming his neck, but the footsteps say that Havik is keeping his distance.

It isn’t long before Bi-Han reaches the destination: his bedroom, the most private place one could be. One hand twists the doorknob, while the other quickly grabs Havik’s wrist and forces him inside the room, eliciting a loud, annoying cackle. Bi-Han steps inside and quickly locks the door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His room is dimly lit, a soft light from a candle immediately illuminating his face. Frost crawls up the stone walls like an ever-present reminder of Bi-Han’s power, chilling the air between them. Havik barely seems to notice, his vacant eyes focused solely on the Grandmaster standing across the room, his posture a mask of practiced calm.

Bi-Han clears his throat, breaking his silence. “Your proposal. Elaborate.”

Havik stands taller, excited to still have grasped Bi-Han’s curiosity. “Tell me, Bi-Han,” he begins – the sudden use of his given name not going unnoticed by the Grandmaster. “Do you know what it is like to be free? Truly free? Or have you always been bound by the Lin Kuei’s false honor?”

Bi-Han crosses his arms, staring Havik down with an annoyed glare. “Honor is a choice, Havik. Not a shackle. I invite you to choose your words carefully when you speak of the clan I lead.”

Havik laughs, low and guttural, his voice like gravel against stone. “Perhaps, but I wonder how much of that is a true choice, and how much are you clinging to what you’ve been taught – to your chains.”

A slight frown flashes across Bi-Han’s face, though he quickly composes himself. The way Havik speaks so casually, so provocative, as if the core of his being could be so easily dissected. Yet..he couldn’t ignore the possibility of a slight truth in Havik’s words. He keeps his eyes on Havik, hesitant to look anywhere else.

“What exactly do you want from me, Havik?”

Havik steps closer, an amused hum leaving his throat. His fingers trail lightly over a frost coated desk beside him, his gaze looking down to meet Bi-Han’s. “I want you to see chaos as I do,” he murmurs, tone surprisingly softer, yet still layered with its typical intensity. “Imagine a world without boundaries. Without restraint. Just power…and desire.”

Bi-Han suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “You’d think me so foolish to throw away everything I have built for some hollow promise of freedom? I have my own path, one that doesn’t require your madness.”

Havik’s face is blank, showing a lack of reaction to Bi-Han’s words. “Not madness, truth!” He corrects again. “Is there not a part of you that longs to let go of control? To let chaos in, even for a moment?”

The Grandmaster’s jaw clenches, wanting to deny Havik further, but something in the man’s gaze – a dark, pervertish desire – holds him in place. Havik’s cold, rotting, fingers make their way to Bi-Han’s arm, a slight touch, but enough to imprint the feel on Bi-Han’s mind forever.

“You do not have to be alone in this world, Bi-Han,” Havik starts, “there is power in chaos, yes, but there is also the comfort found in…connection.”

Bi-Han’s heart begins to increase in pace, though his face remains impassive. Havik’s gaze is still unflinching, his corpse-like eyes aiding him in hiding emotion. His fingers trace a line up Bi-Han’s arm until they reach his shoulder, then his collarbone.

“Is that your true wish, Havik?” Bi-Han’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “Connection?”

A silence stretches between them, the weight of the conversation thickening the air. Bi-Han considers stepping back, letting the previous, familiar distance reassert itself. But he doesn’t move.

Havik’s hand finally slides up to cup the side of Bi-Han’s face. “It is what you want, too. Let me show you what true freedom feels like.”

And then, before Bi-Han could respond, Havik leans in, gently pressing their heads together. The moment ends as quickly as it began, and Havik grabs Bi-Han’s hand, leading him to his bed. He pushes Bi-Han into the mattress with too much force to be considered gentle, but soft enough to be out of Havik’s norm. Bi-Han allows him to remove his clothing piece by piece, until nothing's left for the imagination. Bi-Han thinks back to intimate moments with past partners, usually the pace is slowed with kisses that express longing for one another. But with another quick glance at Havik – it’s obvious to see why this experience cannot be compared to others.

Havik begins to take off his own garments. Starting with his helmet, chest piece, then loincloth, carelessly throwing them across the room. He climbs on top of Bi-Han, hunger growing through him. His hands reach to touch Bi-Han, but he is interrupted before he gets the chance.

“You will speak a word of this to no one,” Bi-Han threatens, “do not make me regret speaking to you.”

Bi-Han expects a booming cackle, a snarky comment, maybe an eye roll – anything he’s learned to expect from Havik. But he gets a simple nod in response. Havik’s more focused on the nude form in front of him. He allows his hands to map out Bi-Han’s pale skin. They outline his chest, drawing a circle around a small mole above his nipples. Havik leans down, indulging himself in the taste of Bi-Han’s skin. His rough, almost cat-like tongue dances around the mole, before dragging down to Bi-Han’s nipple. Bi-Han’s back slightly arches at the sudden contact, and hisses as Havik invites his other hand to stimulate Bi-Han’s chest in tandem with his tongue. Bi-Han can feel himself becoming lightheaded once his dick begins to harden. He raises his hand to touch Havik’s dick, and he’s quickly rewarded with a groan and tug to his nipple. Bi-Han slowly moves his hand and familiarizes himself with Havik’s length, his breath hitches as he feels its girth. His mind drifts to the thought of it slowly stretching him out, knocking the air out of him with each thrust.

Bi-Han tries to lose himself in the feeling of Havik in his hand, but his partner has other plans. A frustrated huff leaves Havik as he suddenly loses interest in teasing Bi-Han’s chest, suddenly turning his attention to Bi-Han’s cock, perhaps grabbing it with a bit too much force, as a sound mixed with bliss and annoyance escapes Bi-Han’s throat.

“Finally,” ire laces Havik’s tone, “I want to hear you.”

Havik temporarily removes his hand to spit on his palm, then returns it to Bi-Han. His hand drags up and down Bi-Han’s dick, relishing in how Bi-Han’s brows furrow. Havik experiments with different speeds and pressures, desperate to find the correct combination to make Bi-Han’s head spin. Another blissed groan is how Havik knows he’s succeeded. By now Bi-Han has given up on returning the pleasure to Havik – not that the latter even cares. His cheeks are flushed, and his legs feel weak. He tries to level his breathing, but Havik’s hand working his body forces each sigh to come out shaky. Bi-Han’s fingers find purchase in the bedsheets below him. His strong grip almost steadying him as he melts into the sensation.

Bi-Han grunts and tenses as he suddenly realizes the existence of a spit covered finger dancing around his entrance. Feeling Havik’s eyes on him, Bi-Han tries to relax his body, giving a silent ‘go ahead.’ Havik takes the chance to push a finger inside Bi-Han, sighing as he feels the muscles tighten around him. Bi-Han feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, the dual sensations of Havik’s hand on his dick and inside him makes his body feel wobbly and weak. Not a single Lin Kuei would recognize their Grandmaster in this state: pupils blown, face red, slightly trembling. Bi-Han loses his last bit of control when a soft moan breaks out in response to Havik pushing in another finger. Bi-Han only wishes to tell Havik to fuck off when he hears the man cackle, but another moan leaves his throat before he can do so. Bi-Han slightly hisses in discomfort, wishing he had proper lubricant. He makes a mental note to be more well prepared for future encounters.

A sudden pressure is soon felt deep in Bi-Han’s abdomen, his eye twitching as he realizes what it is. His face scrunches up as the feeling grows, soon becoming unbearable. He reaches down to tap Havik’s hand – a warning. And with another, much louder moan, Bi-Han cums all over Havik’s hand and his own stomach. He pants, trying to find respite after such a huge feeling, but finds it difficult as Havik refuses to slow his pace. Bi-Han sharply exhales as sensitivity boils over, squirming as Havik’s fingers curl inside of him. He hisses right before the feeling has a chance to become uncomfortable, and smacks Havik’s hand.

Havik slowly removes his hands from Bi-Han, and gives the Grandmaster a positive, almost curious look – one that is not shared by Bi-Han.

“I do not wish to continue,” comes Bi-Han’s weak voice. He cringes at the thought of Havik inside of him without any form of lubricant, knowing even attempting to do so would put him out of commission for a day or so.

Havik doesn’t fight the request, instead getting off the bed in search of something to clean up with. He returns with a cloth, using it to wipe cum and sweat off Bi-Han’s body. The material is familiar, and Bi-Han promptly smacks Havik’s arm upon realizing his own clothing is being used as a towel.

Tossing the garment aside after finishing his task, Havik once again places his forehead against Bi-Han’s, content with how the night has played out.

“Rest, Bi-Han,” is all he says as he shifts himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “Tomorrow, we will discuss my plans in further detail.”

“And where will you be whilst I rest?”

“I will still be here.”

#mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfic #mortal kombat #bi han fanfic #havik fanfic #havik x bihan #bi han x havik #havihan #smut

14 notes · View notes

biconickyoshi · 8 months ago

Note

An avatar nonshipper for years, I once found myself having an extremely vivid and emotion-filled dream of Zuko and Aang being destined for each other. Never once in my years of being a fan have I considered a possibility of shipping them, ever, but my brain casually decided to rewrite its whole chemistry in one night.

My first thought was, what the hell did I get myself into. Will my closest friends accept me as a newly converted Zukaang shipper? Will I ever find a community of like-minded people who, too, received prophetic dreams one day? Am I doomed to be in, dare I say, a rareship pit for the rest of my life?

In the end though, I am glad to have found people who see what I saw when my eyes opened to all the possibilities for the first time. The mind is a tricky and fascinating thing. I just wanted to send this as a message of support for your incredible work! It's everything I could have ever dreamed of (which I did, ironically), soft and romantic, loving and warm. There might not be as many of us, but I can see that our fandom is dedicated. I hope to see more of your Zukaang vision, as well as more others who like them as much as we do <3

Aaaa thank you so much for sending this ask, anon!! And for taking the time to read my fic! :) I absolutely love this origin story for how you started shipping Zukaang haha, because yes, it sounds like the universe basically gifted you a prophetic dream!

It seems like a lot of us started out not even considering Zukaang as a ship. That was me until one random day in 2021, when I just had an epiphany and realized the sheer amount of potential the ship had if only they had been a bit closer in age during the events of the original show (though I do still ship Zukaang with their canon ages once they’re in their 20s - they have the same age gap as me and my husband).

It was a pretty big deal that I started shipping Zukaang honestly, because while it took me like 14 years to even consider them as a ship, they are now one of my all-time top OTPs, if not my favorite overall. Prior to this, I was always an avid Kataang shipper (and I still think they’re cute and I’m glad they ended up together), but I’ve literally never been this invested in a ship before, especially not a non-canon one. This is also the first ship I’ve ever written fanfiction for too, and it’s a long fanfiction that I have consistently worked on for months now. I’ve been in other fandoms and had other ships where my interest was very strong, but never this long-lasting.

I also empathize with worrying about what your closest friends will think of you being a Zukaang shipper - that’s me as well lol. I still haven’t told mine. Thankfully my husband is super chill about it and even helps proofread my chapters, so at least I have someone irl who I can gush to haha.

I’m so happy to hear you’ve enjoyed The Avatar and the Fire Prince so much - it has definitely been a labor of love, not just for the Zukaang ship, but for AtLA as a whole. It has given me the opportunity to truly dive into the world, characters, and lore and flesh them out in ways they couldn’t be in the original show. Plus, it’s just been a blast to write! :)

Thanks again for sending this ask anon! We’re happy to have you in the Zukaang fandom! ❤️

#asks #zukaang #atla au #my fic #the avatar and the fire prince #atla #avatar the last airbender

23 notes · View notes

goferwashere · 10 months ago

Text

Assorted Punch-Out!! Monster Hunter AU facts and headcanons :3

Oh yeah baby, here we goooooo

- To kick it off, why not start with the fact that Dragon and Don used to be friends? He fulfilled the same kind of role for Don as Joe does now, but backed off when he started dating Macho. They never were super close though, so he had no problem erasing their friendship from his memory and moving on like nothing happened.

- Except obviously constantly messing with Dragon’s perception is going to mess him up a little bit. Dragon’s memory when it comes to Don is really bizarre. He feels he should know him somehow, and that they’ve talked, but will always struggle to come up with his name if asked. Ever since Don started throwing his monster-only parties, Dragon has had to see him more and more often. So much so that he has continuously brought up things he shouldn’t remember, and Don had to erase his memory again. (Dragon is doing is own little investigation on his own into what’s going on with him.)

-Aran’s hearing is terrible. Not so bad he needs a hearing aid or anything, but it’s pretty bad. This is why Don will continuously lose to him.

- Soda and Macho’s scheduled gym times frequently overlap, so they see each other a lot. Soda isn’t happy about this, but Macho couldn’t care less.

- Bear Hugger is a terrible liar. He nearly exposed the entire monster side of the WVBA to Hondo while offering to take him out to eat. He just hates not being honest.

-Kaiser is so easy to bribe. Offer him some blood (yours, or if you have it with you someone else’s) and he’ll do you just about any kind of favour. Within reason, obviously. But that man is malnourished af, please give him a little morsel

- Aran is really uncomfortable around Hugger because of his past with werewolves. When he won that fight against him he was releasing years upon years of pent up anger and frustration on him. This makes Hugger pretty sad because Aran just doesn’t seem to like him, but if he did know he’d understand.

- Bull loves puzzles! He’ll do them with Tiger on their off time sometimes.

- Don can’t sway Disco. Quick is always right beside him ready to bring him back to reality (whatever that might take). Or if not, then to just take over Disco’s body and get him outta the situation. (Which is something he can’t normally do, but Disco is in a weakened state of mind.)

- Soda has tried to get Joe to show him stuff to take down monsters, but Joe will always refuse because he knows that Soda won’t be using it for good.

- Joe confronted Don once before, finding out about his manipulation. Only, the first time this happened they weren’t very close, and Joe was very much prepared to kill him. He had him cornered and pinned to a wall with a dagger to his throat, and Don managed to command him to stop just before he killed him. He was so shaken by the event that not only did he make Joe forget about it, he made himself forget. He doesn’t use his power on himself, normally because it’s very hard, but he just couldn’t go back to acting like himself after what happened.

-Kaiser refuses to talk to Disco or Quick. He avoids them like the plague after their first match, which kinda bums Disco out because he wants his scarf back.

okay maybe more later idk I’m abt to pass tf out gn y’all

(also @oohbuggypie !! Tagging you because )

#punch out #punch out!!#punch out monster hunter au #punch out headcanons #don flamenco #super macho man #glass joe #great tiger #punch out wii #dragon chan #disco kid #headcanon #von kaiser #bear hugger #aran ryan #bald bull #soda popinski #smm #honk mimimi

19 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 2 years ago

Text

The Last Chance (I)

Chapter 1 : Meeting

Hi! Coming back with a request for my Comeback Event!! Woohoo!!! Today we are answering an anonymous request : ‘Ben Barnes & #23 for the event? 💗’. Prompt 23 was ‘wrong time to right time’.

I was actually super happy to receive this prompt for Ben, because I had already planned to write something of the kind for Ben using his acoustic video for 11:11… you’ll see what I mean when you read the third part of the fic, but it fits my plans perfectly! So, thank you so much for your request!! Although this was meant to be a one-shot, it got completely out of hand, and I had to split the fic into three parts! So, here is part 1, and you’ll get part 2 on April 29 (2023) and part 3 on May 1rst!

I hope you enjoy your fic, anon!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warning: angst… with a happy ending 😉 But for this first part, it’s rather a fluffy beginning and an angsty ending…

Summary: you and Ben have been caught in a game of hide and seek for decades now; always loving each other at the wrong time in your lives. Can this finally be the right moment for the two of you?

Word count: 4693

It’s late. It’s raining. You’re bored out of your mind, actually.

Amazing idea to follow your friends from university as they crash every bar in town… Wonderful plan. Especially when you have to wait for your roommate to go back to the campus, to finally go to bed. You check your watch. It’s almost 1am. You have an exam tomorrow at eleven. Great… So much for your good night of rest and quiet.

There’s only so much space under the porch of this bar. You’re partly soaked already.

Great…

You look inside once more, to see your friend snogging some guy. You don’t know him. He’s cute though, you guess. Black hair. Warm sweater. Lean. He blushes when your friend pulls away, you guess he’s a little shy. Maybe that’s the guy she’s been talking about, the cute one Cassie met in one of your classes… which class is it again? It has something to do with 18th century literature, you reckon, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You give the couple five more minutes before storming inside and pulling her out by the neck yourself…

You go to the bathroom for five minutes, and that’s all the time Cassie needs to meet the guy she’s trying to date and to start snogging him in public… wonderful…

Or well, maybe snogging is a bit much. Kissing is more accurate.

You decide that a cigarette is going to calm you down, so you light one up and take a long drag. The feeling of the intoxicating smoke does help. You feel yourself relaxing, but you don’t give up on your resolution to kick your roommate’s arse, and to do so rather sooner than later.

You’re taking your second drag when the door behind you opens, and you move a little to the side to let the young man walk out. He gives you a shy smile and a nod to silently thank you, and you copy his polite gesture. But instead of walking away in the street, he remains under the shelter of the porch next to you, glancing inside through the glass door. He buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Waiting for someone too?” you ask him, trying to be nonchalant.

Actually, you’re a little uncomfortable that a stranger shares your hiding spot. He seems nice enough though. Dark hair. Tall. He gives you a shy smile.

“Yeah, waiting for a friend. Sorry, if I’m bothering you during your cigarette break.”

“No worries. I’m waiting for my roommate to go home.”

“Looks like we both have some lousy friends,” he jokes, and you decide that you like his smile.

He accepts the cigarette that you offer him, and he lights it up with your lighter. He inhales deeply the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a few seconds, before puffing it out in a white cloud. You can’t help but notice that he’s rather handsome doing that…

“Yeah… and I have a test tomorrow morning,” you go on, looking for a distraction as the stranger raises the cigarette back to his lips. “So, I will probably murder her if she doesn’t come out soon.”

He chuckles with you.

“You’re studying at university?” he asks, deciding that doing conversation is better than merely waiting in the cold night. He’s already half-soaked because of how small this porch is and how hard it rains.

“Literature.”

“Really? Kingston too?”

“Yes…”

“I’ve never seen you in class.”

“You’re studying English as well?”

“Yeah, junior year.”

“Oh… you’re one year ahead, that’s why!”

You take the last drag off your cigarette, and rub the incandescent tip against the sole of your shoe, making the blaze die out.

“You like it so far?” he asks.

It’s only November but it’s cold already, and you can see the white puff of air escaping his lungs as he speaks; it dances in the cold air and the golden light coming from the streetlamp a few feet away, along with the one shed by the pub.

“Yeah, it’s alright. You?”

“Sure.”

You don’t really know what to say, and you look for your friend again, who is still snogging her date…

“Which one is your lousy friend?” the stranger asks, looking inside as well.

“The blond one with a tongue in her throat, at the back.”

You don’t understand why he starts laughing. It’s loud and infectious though. You like it.

“Well, looks like we share the same doom. My friend is the one with his tongue in her throat.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

You check your watch, heaving a sigh.

You look cute. It’s the first thought that comes to his mind as he looks at your annoyed expression. You’re crinkling your nose, and it’s adorable. He finds you pretty, even like this: clearly frozen, half-drenched, your hair and clothes dishevelled. Really pretty, actually…

“What a pair of morons,” you mumble under your breath. “I give them two more minutes before committing a murder.”

He can’t help but chuckle. You’re funny.

“I can be your alibi if you’d like,” he offers, making you laugh.

“Works for me.”

He’s about to speak again, ask about your name, yourself, what you like, if you’re free tomorrow night, but you’re faster than him. You blurt out a triumphant shout.

“Hallelujah! They’re standing up! We can go home!”

“A bloody miracle!”

He can’t help it. The way he’s kind of… disappointed. He takes one last drag out of his cigarette, staring at you and the way the golden light of the pub dances over your features.

A minute later and your friend and her date are finally in the street with you.

“Oh, Y/N! You haven’t met my boyfriend yet!” Cassie says, looking excited.

“Nope. Haven’t had the pleasure. But, huh… well, I’m Y/N,” you tell the dark-haired guy who’s still holding your friend’s hand.

He gives you a crooked smile, a little arrogant around the edges. He looks cute, you’ve got to admit. You do find his friend cuter though. You like the way he blushes now that all of you are cramped under the small space of the porch.

“Nice to meet, Y/N. I’m Jonathan. Oh, but… looks like you’ve met my friend already. Hmm, Cassie, this is Ben. We’re in the same year.”

He waves at her, and she greets him too. But Ben’s eyes land quickly on you again.

So… your name’s Y/N. That’s a cute name…

You’re there.

He’s been trying to see you again for the past two weeks, but couldn’t find a way to reach you. You were never around when Jonathan met Cassie, and Ben wanted to talk directly to you, instead of asking to one of your friends. He’s been about to abandon this crazy idea of his, these past couple of days. But now… here you are…

You’re sitting at a table alone in the middle of the library; focused on a large book, he recognizes the cover even from afar. Poetry. He knows, he went through the same book the previous year. He can’t help an amused smile. It’s a rough class, you’ll struggle for sure, just like everyone does.

He takes a deep breath, trying to control his quickening heartbeat and the sudden shakiness in his hands.

Damn, you make him so nervous… and he has barely talked to you at all for now.

He can feel his cheeks reddening, the heat creeping up all the way to the tip of his ears, but he can’t help it, can’t fight it. Just like he can’t fight the way his heart stops when you look up at him.

You must have felt that he was staring, that’s why your eyes lifted from the yellowed pages to settle on him. He can’t look away anymore.

You’re terribly pretty. Damn… you make him so nervous.

He’s not good at this. But he’s got to try, because after a small frown, you seem to recognize him and you’re smiling. You’re smiling, bright and warm and welcoming.

Right… it’s nothing really. Worst case scenario, you’ll simply say you’re not interested in him at all, and your two lives will go on as if this never happened.

He forces a smile on his lips, clenches his fists behind his back to help calm his nerves.

You can see he’s nervous though. He’s shy, you can tell. You read it on his lips despite the smile that takes shape there; the gesture’s small but earnest. You see it painted in red over his nose and cheeks. You find it adorable, to be honest…

“Hi, Y/N,” he speaks in a shy voice, whispering as he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet of the library.

“Hi, Ben! It’s nice to see you again, especially not at 1am under the cold rain.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too,” he answers with a breathy chuckle, and his smile is bigger now, merrier too. “Would you mind if I sat down with you?”

“No, not at all. Please, sit down.”

You move some of your pens and papers to the side so he can sit opposite you.

“I see you’re struggling in Barrows’s class too,” he teases you, nodding towards the book.

“Yeah… this class is complicated. But then, I feel like everybody is struggling as much as I am, so it must not come from me.”

“No, I struggled a lot with it too. I can help you, if you want.”

“Oh, that would be nice of you, thank you. But I don’t want to bother you...”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, I’m offering. I’ve got about an hour before I need to leave, gives us plenty of time.”

“Okay, then. Thank you.”

Ben struggles at first to remember precisely what was taught in the class, but it comes back quickly as you ask him questions, and the two of you spend about half an hour studying. But then, the conversation drifts away from poetry; and it’s his fault really, he’s the one who makes a hilarious joke. The words you exchange change from literature to your favourite movie, to this play he’s seen a few weeks ago, to your love for stories, to his love for acting, to your mother and her funny habits, to his brother who’s growing up too fast to his liking. He is more relaxed now, the blushing has subsided, and you find him funny. There’s something gentle and kind in his gaze, you can feel he’s a nice guy.

The more the conversation goes on, the more you notice how handsome he is, and it’s hard to control your heartbeat when he intensely stares at you with these black eyes of his. You’re the one avoiding his gaze now, not as confident as you were when he arrived.

Damn, he makes you so nervous…

He checks his watch as you try to quieten your laughter against the palm of your hand, but you fail miserably to do so, and the student at the table next to yours sends you a glare.

Ben’s eyes grow round, and he suddenly jumps on his feet.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh, yes, you said you had something… I’m sorry, I didn’t check the time.”

But he shoots you a reassuring smile, and you find it infectious; the gesture spreads across your lips as well.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry. But I need to go.”

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble…”

“No, don’t worry. I’m just meeting up with some friends for rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing? Rehearsing what?”

He smiles, red back to colour his cheeks, and he seems to hesitate before speaking.

“I play the drums.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Like… you’re any good?”

“Enough to play in the West End.”

“Wow… I have to admit I did not see this one coming.”

Ben’s standing by the table now, his bag haphazardly thrown on his shoulder, but he’s not moving yet, not even if he’s late. He doesn’t want to.

“Why? Not bad-boyish enough?” he chuckles, but you can see he’s only half-joking.

“Well, you’ve got to admit that… basic jeans and a plain blue jumper don’t really strike me as ‘drummer in a rock-band’ type of clothing,” you tease him.

“No, I guess not.”

You can’t believe you’re the one speaking the next words that pass your lips, but they still tumble out of your mouth, in a whisper so low you almost hope he doesn’t hear you.

“Despite the comfy clothes, it’s still quite sexy, though.”

But he’s heard you just fine. As proof, you’re staring at each other in silence for several seconds, both your heartbeats erratic, and your breathing a mess. Slowly, a smile curves up his lips, until he’s properly grinning.

“Well, then… if I use the argument that I’m a drummer… maybe you’ll find me interesting enough to go out with me this Friday?”

You struggle not to smile, but miserably fail. You look away to hide your reaction.

“Depends on what you have in mind, I guess.”

“Well… they’re playing When Harry Met Sally at a little cinema nearby. What do you say? The movie is at nine.”

“If we can grab a pizza before that, then I’m down for it.”

You exchange a grin.

“That could be arranged. Then… let’s say… seven thirty before your dorm?”

“How do you know where my dorm is?”

“Jonathan.”

“Oh… and Cassie?”

“Sadly, yes.”

You chuckle together, and you nod your head.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

When he leaves, you watch him walking out of the library, with his blue jeans and navy jumper too big for him, and you can’t refrain a dreamy smile.

Looks like you’ve got a date…

Your sides are painful, he makes you laugh too much.

He’s making silly voices to comment the TV show you’re watching on your tiny television screen. You’ve forgotten altogether what the show is about, Ben is too distracting. You don’t mind though. It feels good to laugh. Finals are over, summer is upon you. It’s a happy time to be alive. Night quiet, goofy boyfriend and warm clothes, with an empty pizza box discarded somewhere on the floor.

You’re cuddled into his side, with his hand on your waist and your head on his chest. It’s warm and safe in his embrace, you love the sound of his breathing against your ear, the way you shake a little as he laughs.

It’s peaceful and happy and you feel lucky to be with him.

“You’re insufferable, I can’t even watch TV with you,” you tease him; the grin on your lips and the laugh making your voice hoarse are enough to show you’re merely joking.

“What are you talking about? We are watching TV. If not, then what are we doing? Snogging? I wish…”

You playfully swat his shoulder.

“Perv!”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

You fake outrage.

“Benjamin!”

“Yes, darling?”

You look at each other, before bursting into laughter.

“I’m joking!” he reassures you, before suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. “Unless you’re in the mood…”

You push him away, laughing some more. Actually, you push him so much he almost falls off your bed, and you have to pull him back towards you so he won’t fall.

You both gasp, before losing yourselves in an uncontrollable laughter.

It takes you two a while to finally calm down, both of you crying with laughter and struggling to breathe.

“Darling… you really will be the death of me,” says Ben, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Well, not your death… but your ticket to the hospital, probably…”

Before you can joke some more, you’re back into his arms. You don’t stop him when he pulls you close, you’re used to it. That’s his way of saying he cares.

He’s a little surprised when you kiss him. He thought you’d banter some more, he knows you like it. But instead of your playfulness, he’s met with your soft lips that taste like the sweet soda you’ve been drinking tonight. It’s not hard for him to forget about everything while you kiss him. No plans for the summer, no TV, no world outside your lips on his, your tongue teasing him, your hands in his hair, the soft fabric of your t-shirt, and the warmth of your skin as he cradles your cheek.

When you break away, you’re both out of breath.

Ben struggles to clear his throat, nose brushing against yours, eyes still closed.

“So… snogging then, huh?”

You laugh. You should speak about the summer, about what you’re going to do about your relationship in the coming months, but you don’t want to. This evening is too nice, you’re happy. Unbelievably so.

As you stare at him, getting lost in his dark eyes, you reckon that now is not the time for this serious talk. You’d rather bathe in the feeling of his embrace, of his lips upon yours. You’d rather linger for a while in this state, where you feel safe and cared for.

Instead of talking about plans, and obstacles, you choose merrier words, tender ones.

“Maybe I just love you.”

You see he’s surprised. After all, none of you have said it yet. You’re not worried though, he looks at you with too much tenderness for that.

“Well, maybe I love you too.”

You kiss while grinning, it’s messy and affectionate and it tastes of carelessness and a happiness you ought to hold onto while it lasts. It’s ephemeral, yet you wish it could last for a lifetime.

“I can’t come on Saturday.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“That’s alright, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I have an audition for a play in the West End on Monday, I need to work as much as I can.”

“Do you want me to help you with your lines? We could practice.”

“Jonathan is going to help. It’ll be easier, the scene is between two guys. Besides, you haven’t taken any class about acting this year. I don’t mean to offend you but…”

“Jonathan has more experience, I get it. No need to worry. I need a little bit more than that to be offended.”

“I know… still… it makes me feel awful. It’s the third time in a row I’m cancelling a date night…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s alright, really. I get it. You need to get a job. I’m sure it’s going to work out. I’m expecting nothing less but a leading role for you, mister.”

Your voice is teasing, and you pull on the collar of his white shirt to drop a sweet peck on his lips, his stubble tickling your skin, but none of you are fooled.

You’re disappointed. Almost mad.

He feels guilty. Almost sad.

It’s not the first time it happens, you reckon it won’t be the last. You should not take it so seriously, and yet you do. You take this too seriously, because you haven’t had a proper date in over a month. You haven’t spent more than two nights together in three weeks. You’ve barely had a full conversation in the past few days.

You’re drifting apart. You’re drifting apart because he’s got all these things to do to get a job, and you’re still a student, and you don’t live with the same rhythms anymore.

Still, you love him. You’ll make it work.

“If your audition is on Monday, what if we have a pizza and a movie on Tuesday?” you offer, hugging him close, as if you’re scared he’s going to leave too soon.

“But you have classes early in the morning on Wednesdays…”

“It’s okay. I can skip one class, it won’t kill me. Cassie will give me all her notes. It’s just this once. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d rather spend my evening with you.”

He gives you a tender smile, taking you in his arms to hold you in a tight embrace, dropping sweet kisses on your hair.

You’re drifting apart.

Still, he loves you. He’ll make it work.

“Alright, then. Date night on Tuesday. And if I get this job, I’ll treat you to a nice restaurant. Would you like that?”

You enthusiastically nod, before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You hold onto each other for a long time.

You’re drifting apart. It’s alright though. You’ll both make it work. You have to.

It’s funny how life works haphazardly sometimes, it would seem.

It’s random, really. The fact that you met, the fact that you crossed path again in this library, the fact that you fell in love with him, the fact that you have to say goodbye now.

Because you know already how this is going to end. You’re having a conversation, but you both already know all the arguments.

You’re flying to Dublin to get a job in a small newspaper, and he’s flying to Australia to play in a huge movie. He wants to focus on acting. You want to figure yourself out. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it’s just that you don’t want to sacrifice this opportunity for him. And it’s not that he has stopped loving you, it’s just that he wants to give his career a try. A reel one. And to do that, he needs to travel across the globe.

You’re barely out of college, you could feel it was coming. Ben has been working for a while now, and you know your worlds are not aligning as much anymore. Instead, they feel more like two strangers standing next to each other. They felt like an embrace before.

It’s been here for a while, the acknowledgment that this is not the right time for the two of you. You’re young, you love him but you’re not sure what you want. And he’s young, he loves you but he has dreams in his head he wants to catch before they pass out of reach. You’re lost, and he’s determined. You love him, and he loves you. But everything else in your lives have stopped matching a while ago.

He's got an opportunity, and an amazing one. And you have an opportunity as well. And the two are thousands of miles apart.

“We could give it a try,” he offers, but you can hear it in his voice that even he doesn’t believe in his own words.

“It’s never going to work,” you argue.

“No need to be so pessimistic about it.”

He reaches for your hand across the mattress. The sheets are soft under your palm. You wish you could resist him, but you can’t, and so you entwine your fingers together.

“I’m still in love with you,” Ben lets out in a shaky breath.

“I love you too. I think… I think I always will, in a way.”

You look up at the ceiling to prevent any tear from escaping. You don’t want to be crying. It would be silly. You knew it was coming, it has been there for months.

You’re not parting ways because he cheated, because he’s stopped loving you, because he’s a jerk, because he’s treating you badly...

He’s a sweetheart. He’s a nice guy. Your lives have drifted apart, that’s all. You’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing you, because you love him, but you can’t make it work.

“I don’t want this to be over,” he goes on, “but I don’t see any other way. Cause… cause it’s… we’ll never see each other, how can this work?”

“I know, Ben. I know. That’s why we need to stop this, before it goes sour. Before our love for each other becomes bitter because we’re frustrated with the distance, and your job, and mine, and our different goals… It’s alright. It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s not really our fault. We just… want different things. And no one can have everything they want in life.”

You’re right, and he knows it. Still, as he looks at you like this, on the verge of tears, with your fingers in his, with this sadness painted all over your features… he still loves you. He’s crazy about you, really.

But you’re right, and the two of you don’t want the same things. Still, he’s pretty certain he’s making the wrong choice right now. He knows he’ll regret this as soon as he’ll walk out of your bedroom, as soon as he’ll exit your dorm. He’ll regret this. But then again, he would regret not giving his career a chance too.

Which one is worse? He’s not sure. But he knows you’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing him, because he loves you, but he can’t make it work.

“I want… I want us both to be happy, you know that, right?” he says, his voice shaking. “I want… I want to give my career a try, and you want to take that job in Dublin, and I hope you know that I support you in this. I… You’re… you’ve always been fearless. And I want you to be free to do whatever you want in this life, I want you to find your own path. But above all, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. Do you understand? I support you in this, even if it means that we can’t be together, and I am not blaming you for it. It’s my fault as much as it is yours. Alright? Do you see what I mean?”

You nod, giving him a smile.

“Our lives are just… heading in opposite directions, but I really want you to be happy and brave and to do what you love most,” he repeats himself, as if to make sure you get it, as if he’s afraid you might imagine his feelings for you have changed, when they haven’t faltered at all. “Okay?”

Again, you nod, and silence settles in the room. You’re still holding hands, and you don’t want to let go, even when you speak once more.

“I don’t think we should stay friends, though,” you add, your voice shaking, but nonetheless, he doesn’t fail to recognize determination in your tone. “I mean… We still have feelings for each other. And we need to get on with our lives, get over this. And I don’t think I could get over you if we stayed in touch. So… I think it would be best if we broke up and… never saw each other again.”

He looks up at the ceiling to fight the tears that threaten to escape.

Outside, it’s raining. Late afternoon drenched with raindrops that paint strange patterns on the cold windowpanes. You haven’t turned on the light, despite the dark sky, and the light that comes in is dim, weak, almost trembling. You listen to the rain while Ben tightens his hold on your hand. You don’t want him to let go, but you know he will.

“Alright, as you wish.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I get it. I think… I think you’re right. In the end, it will be better if we don’t stay in touch.”

He doesn’t tell you that he simply… doesn’t want to get over you. Not yet, at least. But then, when he thinks about it, he reckons it’s normal. It’ll pass. Soon, he’ll want to get over you.

It’ll pass…

He gets up all of a sudden, without warning. He lets go of your hand, like you knew he would. It hurts the same, whether you were prepared for it or not…

He puts on his coat, bends to pick up his black umbrella stranded on the floor. Outside, it’s still raining. You hear someone shouting. Cars in the distance. A whole world you’re aware of.

He walks to the door, and he doesn’t turn around one last time when he speaks again. He knows you’re looking at him, he can feel your stare on his back. He knows he won’t have the strength to look at you like that…

“Goodbye, darling.”

Before you can reply, he’s opened the door, walked out, and disappeared.

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fic #ben barnes fanfic #ben barnes series #fanfic #fanfiction #series #writing

97 notes · View notes