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vodika-vibes · 24 days ago

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It Only Matters How You Look

Summary: It’s been six months since Shadow, the master thief, has thrown down the gauntlet against Fives. And he’s no closer to catching her now than he was six months ago. But he’s not going to give up. Not now, or ever.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 3713

Warnings: Reader is a thief, heated kissing, Reader called Shadow in some parts as a codename

A/N: This is a sequel to Knew You Were Trouble and the title comes from a Miranda Lambert song called "Mama's Broken Heart". I'm still very sick, but apparently having a fever makes me want to write lots, so here you have it.

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The small office that Master Nu gave him when he agreed to start hunting Shadow is no longer big enough to contain the investigation. And that’s only in part because his group has grown by several vod’e.

In fact, they are now a squad, five strong, serving under the orders of Master Nu.

Rex hadn’t been thrilled to lose Fives and Echo. And had been even less thrilled three months later when Jesse, Dogma, and Tup were also pulled from the 501st to work under Master Nu.

To be fair, Rex’s temper was nothing compared to General Skywalker’s temper when he found out that he lost both of his ARCs, and then his third ARC only a few months later.

Fives only found out about General Skywalker’s tantrum later, after it had been dealt with. He also only found out later that said tantrum got him removed from leading the 501st and sent to a retreat somewhere.

To help him decompress from the war, General Kenobi said kindly as he took both the 501st and Commander Tano under his wing.

Recently, Fives heard that General Skywalker is still at the retreat, so he supposes that NatBorns must be more sensitive to war.

Though, if he’s going to be honest, he hasn’t thought of the war much these last few months. The only thing he’s been thinking about has been Shadow.

She haunts him every moment.

When he’s awake, he’s thinking about where she could be and where she’s going to hit next, and trying to find a clue in the mass of evidence he, and his brothers, have collected over the previous months.

And when he’s asleep, he dreams of red-painted lips, thigh-high boots, and skintight leotards.

He is, in a word, obsessed.

Fives pushes his fingers through his curls, messing up his already messy hair, as he stares at the collection of stuff Dogma brought from a lead he and Echo have been following for the last week.

“What is all of this?” He finally asks.

Dogma looks up from where he’s trying to piece together a shredded piece of flimsy, “The hint we got from Dex panned out…sort of.”

“It looks like it was a safe house of some kind,” Echo continues smoothly as he lifts something gold and jewel-encrusted, “But it also looked like no one has been there in years. We took pictures—” He sets the item - a statue of a woman- down on the table and pushes some documents to the side to find a stack of photos, “Ah, here they are.”

Fives takes the pictures his twin offers him and flips through them. Everything in the photos is covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Though, it doesn’t look like a safe house to him.

Take away all of the treasure, and it just looks like it was someone's home.

Fives flips to the first picture, the only picture that covers the whole room, and he frowns at it. Two beds, a larger bed with a worn blanket and an even more worn pillow, and a child-sized bed with an equally plain, but thicker, blanket and a less worn pillow.

The photo of the closet shows worn clothes for an adult man and then slightly less worn for a female child. The bookshelf has workbooks designed for young children sitting in a basket low enough for a small child to be able to reach.

“You know…” Fives says slowly, “I think this safe house is where Shadow grew up.”

Four pairs of identical eyes focus on Fives and then turn to the pile of evidence that Echo and Dogma collected from the shack. Tup digs through one of the boxes and pulls out a small jewelry box, popping it open with ease.

The jewelry box is filled with rings and bracelets covered in gems, but the jewelry that’s sitting in a place of honor is a bead bracelet made by a small child. The beads read “#1 Daddy”.

“If Shadow was the one who made this bracelet, then maybe she turned to a life of crime because she grew up poor?” Jesse asks, “Who does that shack belong to?”

“No one,” Echo says, and then he pauses and makes a face, “Well, no. It belongs to the Banker’s Guild. Has for over three decades. Before that, it was an empty lot.”

“I guess the Banker’s Guild won’t help us?”

“Legally they don’t have to keep records longer than fifteen years,” Dogma notes absently as he picks up a ring from the jewelry box and squints at it.

“...why do you know that?” Jesse asks.

“I read legal texts for fun.”

“...vod, we need to get you out more—” Tup says with a sigh.

“Fives,” Dogma interrupts, as he sets the ring down and picks up a pendant, “I think this is all costume jewelry.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I mean, not 100%.” Dogma shrugs, “But all of this stuff that we collected from the safe house looks expensive, but they feel like nickel and colored glass.”

Echo stands suddenly and moves to another box. He digs through the bags for a moment and then emerges with a small bag with a delicate-looking ring. Fives recognizes the ring even from across the room.

Shadow mailed it to him shortly after he first met her.

Echo holds the ring he’s holding next to the ring that Dogma had been looking at, and the difference is as clear as night and day.

The ring that Shadow sent him is one of the most expensive rings found on Coruscant, made of rhodium and naturally formed pink diamonds, you would need to be royalty to be able to afford it.

Shadow stole it from under the nose of Queen Breha Organa of Alderaan. Luckily, House Organa is willing to allow them to hold onto the ring as evidence, especially since it’s housed in the Jedi temple.

“So, what’s the working theory?” Jesse asks, “Shadow became a thief because she grew up in poverty?”

“Her dad was a thief too,” Fives says thoughtfully as he picks up the statue that Echo had been examining earlier, “What if he turned to theft in an attempt to make a better life for his kid?”

“He wasn’t very good at it,” Tup says dryly.

“Right. He wasn’t a good thief, so he was never able to pull them out of poverty, so his kid became a master thief to make up for his failure?” Fives offers.

“So, do we think dad’s still alive?” Echo asks.

The vod’e share a look, and then they turn to Fives, “How old would you say she was, Fives? You’re the only one who’s met her face to face.” Dogma says.

“I dunno…mid-twenties, maybe? But she was wearing make-up, and General Nu said that make-up can make you appear older or younger, depending on your skill.” Fives shrugs, “But let's say she’s in her mid-twenties for ease.”

Dogma nods and makes a note on a piece of flimsy before he pins it to the corkboard behind him. General Nu is a fan of the classics, so they they a mystery board, with a grainy picture of Shadow in the middle.

Fives stares at the picture and then pushes his hand through his curls again, “How about we take a break for a couple of hours? I need some fresh air.”

Echo smirks at him, “You’re going to visit your bookseller, aren’t you?”

Despite his best efforts, Fives can feel a blush creeping up his neck, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.”

“Better hope Shadow doesn’t learn about the book girl. You wouldn’t want her to get targeted.” Jesse points out.

At that, Fives glares at his brothers, “It’s not like that!”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out on a date?” Tup asks.

Fives glares even harder at Tup, “Only if you don’t mind me throwing you out a window.”

“So you don’t want her, but no one else can have her?” Jesse asks, “You know, maybe I’ll go and ask her out too—”

“I’m leaving now!” Fives interrupts, turning on his heel to leave the small room, “Maybe one of you can talk to General Nu about getting a bigger room to work in?”

“I’ll handle it,” Echo says with a grin, “Have a nice date.”

“It’s not a—You know what, forget it.”

Just down the road from the Jedi temple, squished between a liquor store and a lingerie shop, sits the Rainbow Connection Bookstore and Cafe. It’s not the biggest bookstore, but it is popular enough.

College kids like to order their textbooks through you because you don’t charge an arm and a leg, not to mention your cafe is good enough and fairly priced for broke college students.

Honestly, broke college students are your main customers.

It’s not like you need the money from the shop, your alternate revenue stream has already earned you enough money that you could retire right now and spend ten thousand credits a day for the rest of your life, and you still wouldn’t be able to get rid of all your money.

Who says crime doesn’t pay?

Your gaze drifts from one side of your empty shop to the other and then focuses on the news report playing on your datapad.

“That’s right, it’s been three weeks since the Museum of Coruscant was hit by the criminal known as Shadow, and none of the exhibits that were stolen have been recovered—”

Well, duh.

That’s because they’re not on Coruscant anymore. Your client had them shipped to the Outer Rim, so they’re long gone by now. Honestly, by the time the theft had been reported, the artifacts were no longer on Coruscant.

The bell over the door rings as the door opens, and you close the news site as you lift your gaze to the door, “Welcome to the Rainbow Connection~” You say in a sing-song voice.

“Slow day, Princess?”

Only one person on Coruscant calls you Princess, and a wide smile crosses your face as you focus your gaze on the man standing in the doorway, “Well, it’s early still, Fives.”

He looks tired, and you know it’s because he’s been skipping sleep to try and catch you.

Poor dove.

You feel bad about it. But not so bad as to stop.

“Can I get a caf, Princess?”

“Sure thing, extra sugar right?”

“And an espresso shot.”

“Coming right up, hotshot.” You walk to the back of the shop, where the cafe is, and start the caf, and then you lean on the counter, “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Fives admits as he sinks into a chair, “I’ve been chasing Shadow for six months, and I don’t feel any closer now than I was when I first met her.”

“You’ll figure it out, Fives.” The caf machine stops brewing, and you quickly make his mug the way he likes it, then you walk around the counter to set it in front of him. You sit across from him, rest your chin on the palm of your hand, and watch him take a sip of his caf flavored sugar.

“I don’t know, Princess. I’m beginning to feel like I bit off more than I can chew.”

“Well,” You lean back in the seat, “I don’t know if you know this, but I am pretty clever.”

He grins at you, “Yeah? You fancy yourself a detective?”

“Well, I have read a detective novel or two.”

He laughs, some of the tension draining from his shoulders, “Alright Princess. Well, we got an anonymous tip and it led us to a shack on the lower levels, near the Works.”

Wait.

“We think it was Shadow’s childhood home.”

They went to my dad’s home?

“Ooh? How exciting! It should be a simple thing to find out who lived there then, right?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Fives sighs, “Turns out that the bank owns the property, and only keeps records for 15 years.”

Oh, thank the Force for minor miracles.

“Really?” You ask, “Only 15 years? That’s a…rather short amount of time, isn’t it?”

“I think so, but that might just be because their policies are ruining my investigation.” He pushes his hand through his curls, and you don’t bother to stifle your giggle, his hair is sticking up in odd directions.

He’s so cute.

He smiles at your giggle, something soft on his face, “How do you always make me feel better?”

“It’s my superpower.” You tease. It’s a shame he’d never look at the real you like this.

Everything about your civilian identity is a carefully crafted facade. The messy hair, the glasses, the massive sweaters, the calf-length skirts, and the sensible boots were all picked out to make you seem soft and harmless.

Your hair? Styled this way with hair gel and water.

The glasses? Fake, the lenses are glass.

The massive sweaters? Chosen to make you look like you’re hiding in them.

The calf-length skirts? Chosen to make it look like you’re not an athletic person.

The boots? Steel-toed for self-defense…and also designed to look a size larger than your actual shoe size.

“Well,” Fives says as he finishes his caf, “I appreciate your superpower.” He absently twists his mug in his hands, “I should get back to it, I think I’ll head out and interview around Shadow’s childhood home, see if I can get anything from the neighbors.”

Good luck with that. My neighbors growing up are all dead.

“Well, be careful,” You say, “The area around the Works isn’t safe after all.”

“Aww, worried about me, Princess?” He winks at you.

You huff and lift a single shoulder, “Well, I’m not anymore. Let me make some caf for you and your brothers to go. And maybe some sandwiches.”

“You are an angel among women,” Fives praises.

At that, you laugh. “Hardly. I just don’t like seeing people go hungry.” That might be the most honest thing I’ve ever said to him.

It takes you fifteen minutes to get the five sandwiches made up how the five men prefer and to make their travel cups. But you send Fives off with a bag of carefully labeled food and caf, and a warning to be careful.

Fives last comment to you before he heads back toward the temple is a reminder to lock up your shop before you head home for the night, and then he vanishes into the crowd.

You step back into your shop, and a small smile crosses your lips, “Well. If Fives is going to visit my childhood home, I should be there to greet him, shouldn’t I? It’s only polite.”

“What a miserable place,” Fives mutters under his breath as he kicks a piece of trash out of the road and over to an overflowing trashcan.

He’s been here for hours now, and so far he hasn’t met a single person who knows the people who used to live in the old shack down the road. Not even the oldest people living here know them.

He releases a heavy breath. Another dead end. Of course.

Fives turns to head back the way he came, then freezes when he sees the silhouette of someone sitting on the roof of the shack he had investigated.

Someone wearing a high nerftail and a long coat.

He knows it’s her before he can see any details.

Swiftly, Fives runs over to the shack and hoists himself up onto the roof. The building is sturdier than it looks, easily able to hold his weight. “Shadow.”

She turns her head, a secretive smile on her red-painted lips, “Soldier boy,”

“You’re under arrest,”

“Oh, darling, you haven’t caught me yet.” She leans back slightly and her heeled boots lightly kick against the side of the shack.

“Yeah? We’re on a roof, where are you going to go?”

She laughs, and Fives kind of hates himself when his heart skips a beat at the sound. “Won’t you sit with me? I heard that you were poking around.”

Fives clenches his jaw. He should arrest her. Or shoot her. But even as he thinks that he walks over to her and sits next to her. She’s…tiny. Sure, he’s a decently big guy, but even compared to that, she’s still tiny.

“It’s the malnutrition.” She explains, almost as if she can hear his thoughts, “If you live in starvation for long enough, it has lasting side effects.”

“So, this was actually your house growing up?”

“Mm. I lived here with father.” She leans forward, and her long hair tumbles over her shoulder, “The houses are riddled with toxic mold, every single one of them. Not to mention toxins in the water, no heat, and gang violence—”

“You were just a kid! How could your father keep you here?”

She laughs again, though this time it is a bitter noise, “He did his best, but he grew up around here too. By the time I came around, heavy metal toxins had eaten holes into his brain. The fact that he lived as long as he did is, frankly, a miracle.” She pauses, “He died when I was six, if you were hoping to find him.”

Damn, busted.

“The Devoranian seemed to think that he was still alive.”

She turns to look at him, her smile growing, “Oh, silly man. Do you think six-year-old girls can live on their own?”

The information is like a punch to the gut, “Adopted. You were adopted. And your adopted parents are the ones who turned you into this.”

She shrugs, “Believe what you like. But this is the only hint you’re getting.” She pauses and then smacks the side of her fist into the palm of her hand, “Oh! Right! Did you like the ring?”

“The ring?” Fives blinks, and then glowers at her, “You mean the ring you stole from the Queen of Alderaan?”

“...no? The other ring.” She pauses, “Hm, maybe you haven’t found it yet. Oh well! I’m sure you’ll find it eventually.”

Fives stares at her, “You stole another ring?”

“Uh…I am a thief.” She pushes to her feet and stretches, “Anyway, time for me to go. So much to do, you see.”

Fives scrambles to his feet, “Wait! You—”

He’s not able to finish his sentence as there’s a flash of red, a ribbon wrapping around his wrist to hold him still. And then her lips, warm and impossibly soft press against his, and his heart stutters.

“Until next time, darling,” She whispers against his ear, and then he’s free and she’s gone.

He can still feel her lips against his, he can still taste her on his lips, and he wants to kiss her again. And he hates himself for that, too.

Fives pulls his comm out with a shaky hand and calls Echo. He starts talking before Echo can greet him, “I need you to search the Evidence room. You’re looking for a ring that isn’t in an evidence bag. A new one.”

“Sure thing.” Echo pauses, “You good?”

“No. Not really, but I’m not hurt. Just…do that for me and tell me if you find anything.”

“...can do. Be careful, Vod.”

Fives doesn’t answer, he just hangs up. He didn’t mean to worry his brother, but he just can’t right now.

Then he dials a second number, and waits.

“Hello?” A familiar voice, soft and warm, echoes across the line, and Fives feels his heart settle.

“Hey Princess, you busy?”

“Just doing some shopping, but I’m free to talk. What’s up?”

“I just…I needed to hear your voice, that’s all.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “Do you want me to come to you, Fives?”

“No. It’s not safe here. Can I come to your place?”

“Ummm…You can. I just…I haven’t cleaned in a bit—” She sounds so upset about that, that Fives can’t help but laugh, the weight on his heart lifting.

“I don’t mind. I just need to see you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “Alright. I’ll send you the door code and address so you can get in. I trust that you won’t do anything weird.”

“Never.” Fives pauses, “Princess?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

45 minutes later, Fives is sitting on her couch.

His Princess’ home is so…her. There are bookshelves lining all of the walls and the overflow of books is piled on the floor. Not to mention cute little knickknacks sitting on open shelves and counters.

Her home is warm, cozy, and adorable. Just like her.

He stands when the door opens, and his Princess walks in carrying four bags full of groceries. “Here, let me help with that,” Fives says as he takes the bags and sets them on an open counter.

“Oh, thank you!”

She’s not wearing her glasses, but then he remembered her mentioning once that she normally wears contacts when she’s not working. It doesn’t matter, she’s still adorable.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“You could never.” She reassures with a bright smile.

“Oh, good.” Fives watches her kick off her shoes and then turn to start sorting the groceries, and then he moves.

His hand comes out to cradle her cheek. She’s so soft. So soft and so warm.

Fives leans in and catches her lips with his. She tastes like strawberries, likely from the lipgloss she prefers, and Fives knows that he could lose himself in her kisses.

He wants to lose himself in her kisses if she’ll let him.

His tongue flickers against her lower lip, and she releases a faint whimper, her fingers curling around the material of his top. Then Fives breaks the kiss, realizing that he probably went too far.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, she’s still standing close enough that her breath is fanning across his face, “I should have asked if you were okay with that.”

She looks flustered, but she also shakes her head, “I didn’t mind.” She drops her gaze to avoid his, “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again—”

A relieved laugh falls from him, and then he leans in and kisses her again. All thoughts of Shadow rush out of his mind as he curls his arms tightly around his Princess and deepens the kiss.

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#star wars #tcw #star wars au #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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adornesibley · 4 months ago

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ACTUAL FACTUAL FICTIONAL PLAYS: a Newsletter

Reading: White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson, How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

Finished Reading: Limberlost by Robbie Arnott

Podcast: Dungeons and Daddies Season 2

Playing: The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind

Making: Fictional Play (Original Term do not steal!!! jk, use it as you like)

Writing: Project E

Word Count: 165487

TLDR: Showing is showing and telling it telling. Fictional Plays are incoming. 3D modeling and you. RAMP 2024: David’s Existential Nightmare

First, I’d like to talk about something I’ve struggled with and have seen MANY writers struggle with as well. Show don’t tell. Sometimes this isn’t necessary, but the problem usually isn’t whether the writer would LIKE to use this rule, it’s recognizing the difference between showing and telling.

I’ve come up with a pretty good description that I think is a useful litmus test. Showing will feel like a scene unfolding before you, almost cinematically. This can still be hard to sus out. Telling, however, is often quite easy to hear if you read out a given section. Telling will sound like someone who read the book TELLING you what happened, not just reading out a section of the book to you. If it sounds like a synopsis, you’re telling, not showing.

I have a project I’ve been working on, nightly, for over a week now, chipping away slowly. I’ve been playing The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, for the first time in two years, and journaling about my experience. This journal is being written, however, from the point of view of the character I’m playing. As well, I’m supplementing this with screenshots which I include in the compiled copy on my Google Drive. My thoughts are, for this to feel like a daily journal with included sketches from my character. Sort of a travelogue, sort of an old-fashioned Let’s Play (like the ones from Something Awful). This is what I’m calling a Fictional Play. (A joke based on Actual Plays, where folks play TTRPGs and record those sessions, live.)

After I’ve finished playing as this character, my plan is to play as other characters in other regions of Morrowind and build up a little collection of adventures.

To help give me plenty of things to see (for potentially hundreds and hundreds of hours of gameplay) I’ve installed a few mods. These range from mostly visual to massive expansions. I’ve installed Beautiful Cities of Morrowind, Morrowind Interiors Project, Amazing Balmora Expansion, and last but DEFINITELY not least, Tamriel Rebuilt. Tamriel Rebuilt alone will add an almost unthinkable amount of gameplay and land to explore. There are many optimizations and fix mods I’ve installed, but I’m not going to list those here.

When I’ve finished a good chunk of writing and had a chance to go back and edit it, I’ll start uploading it here and on my Patreon as a free download.

I recently downloaded Blender… I’m not sure if I will use it. I have so many grand ideas. So many things I want to create. Right now, I’m finding it hard to make any good quality claymation because I lack space to have my things set up and ready to go. Any time I want to film, I have to set up and pack up each time and I normally only get small amounts of time to film. If it takes longer to set up and pack down than I get to film then I just don’t do it. I’ve had Claythulu made for so long. He’s just sitting there… He has probably hardened and can’t be used anymore 😅

Anyway! So, that’s why I decided to download Blender. There’s a lot I need to learn and it seems impossible right now… I will possibly upload pics if I manage to make more than a vaguely clay-looking square. I will also be doing it with a laptop touchpad… no mouse… no pen or draw pad… wish me luck!

RAMP 2024 is officially over, with more than 300 maps (sorry David), and I’ve managed to create one map for the project this year. This year did not pan out as I’d hoped, as I had a second map in the works, but life has been very hectic, and I’ve had to pick and choose where I’ve spent my time. Below is a playlist of the three maps I’ve submitted to RAMP this year and last. Of note: Fell Delivery broke about halfway through David’s playthrough, but in the final build of RAMP 2023, it’s fixed.

Here is a link to RAMP 2023 for you to go download and play for yourself!

My maps are 157 (Tiny Tek), and 251 (Fell Delivery)

Support weird. Support yourself, because no one else can make the things you want to make.

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years ago

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The Island | KTH (Eight)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) mentions of sex, someone gets punched by someone,

Notes: Enjoy this chapter guys:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr

Previous --- Next

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The room you are in is as cold and empty as you feel. The one single table with 3 chairs, 2 on one side and the one you are currently occupying across from them. The room feels chilling like ghosts haunt it. Maybe they do, you think. The silence is truly deafening and the wait for these 2 other chairs to be filled makes you anxious. It’s been a few months since you have been back here and it makes you uncomfortable each time but you know little by little you are receiving answers.

Finally, after a long wait the heavy door to the room screeches open. And in comes a man and woman in professional clothing—he in a suit and the woman in a dress suit. They smile at you awkwardly like they feel pity. They both pull out their chair and take a seat.

“Have you found it yet? The island?” you’re quick to blurt out and they nervously look at one another before frowning.

“It isn’t that easy unfortunately Miss y/l/n. We’ve been in search of this company for over 50 years.” The woman taps her fingers on the table. “We have yet to find them or this island you speak of.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you as you roll your eyes to the side.

“What kind of intel agency is this? You can’t even find some lame ass fucking love company.” You spit out.

The man hardens his eyes at you as he takes a long, deep breath. Obviously trying to gather his patience.

“Here’s what we do know.” He begins. “They tapped your home, your cell, all of your accounts and spied on you for over a year. Doing their…” he pauses, biting his lip. “Research…”

“And drugged you and your parents the night of the kidnapping.” The woman picks up where he left off, “And then they drugged you again to return you home and also your parents…assuming so it wasn’t to wake them while they were in your home…” she gulps…she understands how invasive this all is.

“You didn’t think to set up cameras around my parent’s house? For when they would return me? You didn’t think to keep an eye—”

“We did.” The man clears his throat, “But they….” He drags his hand down his tired face, “This company is smart. They obviously know what they are doing. The night of your return the cameras we had set up miraculously stopped working.”

You can’t help the laughter that erupts from your body. You begin shaking your head in disbelief, your laughter dying when you realize how serious this is.

“This is fucking bullshit.” You say with a tight lip smile. “Anyway…do you…do you guys…did you look into what I asked of you?” your eyes slide to the side as you nervously pull at the ends of your hair.

“The man you were with? Kim Taehyung…yes, we looked into it. We have been working with Korea’s intel in hopes to solve this case. He has been working together with them. I cannot release any personal information though.” The woman eyes her partner and her frown deepens. “Miss y/l/n…I know this is difficult and you two have been through a lot together. But I am sure you can find a way to reach out—”

“I just wanted to know how he is doing is all.” You cut her off, “It’s fine.”

~~~~~

You stare at the letter in your hands, it’s an off white color and the font in quite fancy. Your parents let you see it a few weeks after you returned home but every night you take it in your hands and stare at it. Not knowing how to take it. The company sent it to them the day you disappeared…explaining the company’s goals. They sent photos of you and Taehyung every week to prove you were alive and well. Your parents said this is what kept them sane…trusting you were okay because they couldn’t—wouldn’t accept any other reality.

Your heart aches thinking of what your parents must have been through but not just them…your sister found out through your mom and dad about the situation and she grew so worried without you. When she found out you were returned home she immediately came to you, sobbing in your arms and hasn’t left you since.

You set the letter down and pick up the pile of photos on your night stand…it’s a thick stack. You begin shuffling through them and you feel like someone has stabbed you in the chest with a dull knife and they begin to carve your heart out. It’s slow and painful…they finally take your slow beating heart and squeeze it in their hands, blood spilling and spilling. Killing you.

Some photos are just of you but majority you are accompanied by Taehyung and seeing his smiling face makes you relieve the experience of getting your heart carved out of your chest.

You glance up at your ceiling as tears begin building in your eyes, you try to blink them back, your eyes opening and closing repeatedly. But it’s no use, not when you feel this lost and hopeless. Suddenly, there is knocking on your bedroom door and your father is walking in.

“Ready sweetie? Got the rest of your things?” He steps into the room, a worried expression on his face but he tries to hide it behind a forced smile. “We should get going.”

You quickly sniffle and nod your head, shoving the stack of photos and letter into your backpack before you’re swinging it over your shoulders.

“Yup, ready.”

It’s moving day. Thankfully you found another job in your old town that you lived in, you found a new, better apartment that is close to where you use to live, you finally are getting out of your parents hair.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road!” your dad pats you on the back as you walk past him. He’s got the truck loaded and ready to go for the couple hour drive. Back to the city!

“This place is so much nicer than your last!” Your sister sets a box down on your new kitchen counter, “You actually have a decent sized kitchen! Not that you really cook.” She laughs.

“Hey!” you whine, “I told you I learned quite a bit of cooking while on the island.”

“You also told me that your boyfriend cooked a lot too…so I’ll just assume he did all the work.” She teases and your face falls.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” Your lips curls so far down that it’s almost comical but alas, it is not because you feel your eyes sting.

“Sorry…” your sister walks to the living room, joining you. She reaches for the box in your arms and sets it down on the floor. “y/n…just message him.”

“…I can’t.” you feel your chest start to burn, “The way things got left…I don’t know how to speak to him.” you admit. “and it’s been so long. If he hasn’t already moved on then he at least hates my guts.”

“Yeah I probably would too.” Your sister nods her head and you swat her arm.

“Thanks Ellie.” You deadpan. “Anyway, I just can’t.”

“He is probably waiting for you…he loves you.”

“You don’t know him?” you laugh quietly, “So how would you know?”

“I’ve seen the pictures of you two, in the moment pictures, and dude, he looks so taken with you in every single one.”

You can’t help the way your heart drops to your stomach. You told him you thought your feeling may not be real…those are some of your last words to him and that kills you. Without a doubt he has had to have moved on from you…why would he torture himself?

Later that night you are snuggled up in your bed with your sister snoozing beside you. You have your phone (Damn you missed this device) and are scrolling through Taehyung’s Instagram. You notice he posted a new group photo just 4 hours ago. You look at all the tags and see all his friends…Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Jimin and Jungkook. But there are also a few girls in the photo. You notice the tag for Hana. You hate that your heart completely stops beating in your chest then suddenly starts racing. Hana. He’s hanging out with Hana? Wait, why are you surprised? You take a deep breath and click her name to view her page and then that’s when your heart really stops. Her most recent photo is of her and Taehyung, their faces smooshed together with wide smiles on their faces with the caption “Missed you.” With pink hearts.

She’s pretty. Really fucking pretty. No wonder Taehyung liked her. Liked? Or likes? Are they together now? They look awfully close. You feel your eyes sting for the millionth time this day and they begin to bubble with tears. This is your fault. You pushed him away, so far away, into another woman’s arms. You start to feel lost and hopeless again…you decide stalking Taehyung through social media probably isn’t the healthiest thing for you or your heart. You continue scrolling on Hana’s page…she has lots of photos with friends, pretty Korean scenery, selfies and more. She looks lively and beautiful, oh so fucking beautiful.

You exit the app and click your phone off. You squeeze your eyes shut and a few pathetic tears that you do not deserve slide out and down your face. You really need to move on, you really need to focus on you. But how can you when a huge part of you feels like it’s been ripped from you? Taehyung was a part of you and you think he still is. You feel crushed, fucking crushed. He is probably with Hana now and you absolutely cannot blame him.

Taehyung is doing fine. Just fine. With or without you. And that reality is setting in and it hurts. It fucking hurts. But you have no one to blame but yourself.

“Why are you doing this, huh? Things were so perfect.” He stops in front of you and pulls you up by the arms. Your chests almost touch from how close you are. “Unless…” he looks down at his feet, “You’re saying all of this because that’s how you feel. You’re the one unsure of your feelings. You’re the one who only likes me—loves me—because there’s no one else.” He looks into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Maybe.” You finally say. And you wish you didn’t because Taehyung releases a shaky breath and his brows crease together as he forms the saddest smile you have ever seen. The canvas of his life is full of beautiful bright colors but you continue to splatter blue and grey paint all over it. The paint mixes together and drips down, a gloomy mess.

“Oh.” He steps back. “I see.” He takes another step back, carding his fingers through his hair. He looks into your eyes as his gloss over, “I’ll leave you alone then.” And he turns around and walks out of the room, leaving you behind.

Why does this scene replay in your mind every single day. Every single night. His sad, sad expression leaving an ever lasting imprint in your mind. You feel broken, but you also feel angry. How dare the company send you back when you and Taehyung have so much to resolve? What is the purpose? What are their intentions? You ball the sheets in your hands as you release breath after frustrated breath. What was the point of all this? Somewhere deep in your gut you feel like this isn’t over. You feel like the company still has some ties to you…you can’t explain it…just a gut feeling.

To say you hate yourself is an understatement. You truly can’t stand to even look yourself in the mirror. You ruined the best thing that has ever happened to you—Taehyung. But you should be happy, right? He’s doing well. He has his friends, his family, Hana. He is absolutely 100% doing just fine and you have to accept that.

~~~~~

“You can’t live like this dude.” Namjoon throws a trash bag on to Taehyung’s bed, signaling him to use it.

“Yeah…Joon is right.” Jimin starts picking up some trash off the floor…mostly empty food containers. “This is getting out of hand. I know things haven’t been easy—”

Jimin is cut off with Taehyung groaning loudly and dramatically. He lifts his head off his pillow, his face evident with sleep as he eyes his two friends in his apartment.

“Get up.” Namjoon lightly kicks the bed with his foot, “And open a damn window or something.”

“And maybe take a shower. You reek of this hangover I am sure you have…” Jimin sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand going to Taehyung’s back, rubbing it soothingly. “She isn’t coming around Tae.” Jimin says as softly as possible, “She isn’t—”

“We don’t know that.” Taehyung cuts him off, grumbling. “She could.”

“You said it yourself, she isn’t sure of her feelings…why aren’t you letting it go?” Namjoon sits down on the bed as well.

“I know her.” Taehyung begins to sit up from his place in bed, his hand flying up to his pounding head. “Fuck. I’m hungover.” He complains.

“You went too hard last night.” Jimin frowns, “Again.”

“So what? You think she lied to you? That she does love you?”

“She was just scared.” Taehyung whispers. “Trust me, I know her.” He repeats again.

Jimin and Namjoon share a look of pity mixed with concern. Jimin stands from the bed, taking the trash bag with him, he opens it up and starts filling it with the garbage around the apartment. Taehyung just watches Jimin clean up and he starts to feel a sense of guilt. Maybe he has been a handful the last few months.

Taehyung is trying his best though.

The unfamiliar bed along with the unfamiliar room was indication enough that Taehyung was in a place without you. It only took him halves of seconds to realize he was in his parents’ home in their spare room. A place he didn’t frequent very often. But he understood his situation right away. The island returned him home to Korea but suddenly this place feels like the last place like home.

When he made his existence known to his mother and father they cried over and over for their son. His father going on about his regrets, how he wishes he would have supported Taehyung more in following his own dreams and so on. His mother wishing she had cooked his favorite meal more often. They basically took his disappearance on the island as his death. At least that’s how Taehyung sees it.

His parents’ received the letter as well, even the photographs. They know all about you. They know that Taehyung is in love, they know Taehyung heart aches. They know everything. They were honestly rooting for you two…they could see how much love went on between the two of you even through pictures.

But as the days went on, as the weeks went on and as the months went on, Taehyung started to feel like he is withering away with every day that passed that you did not reach out to him. Did your time on the island with him mean nothing to you? Even if you ‘maybe’ weren’t in love with him like you claimed you were still friends for god’s sake. You still without a doubt had a powerful connection.

Things have been hard. Really fucking hard. But nothing is harder than the day when the Korean intel agency notified him that you were good, that you were okay. That you were home. But they could not release any personal information. You were home…you were okay…but you still have not reached out? He’s relieved you’re well but that also comes with the disappointment that you are choosing to stay to yourself.

“Yoongi wants to work on that new song tonight, what do you say?” Namjoon stands from the bed as well and makes his way into the small kitchen for a glass of water.

“Not in the mood.” Taehyung mumbles underneath his breath.

“Listen Taehyung…” Namjoon walks back into the room, his hands crossed over his chest as he looks at Taehyung with narrowed eyes.

“If you’re serious about this, being with her, that is. Then fucking do something about it.” Namjoon continues to stare down at him while Jimin keeps cleaning.

“I don’t have her number, I can’t find her anywhere on the internet and I barely know where she lives. What the fuck can I do?” Taehyung grits out, raising his voice just the slightest as he talks.

“….There has to be something.” Jimin speaks up. “A clue.”

“A fucking clue? What are we? Fucking detectives?” Taehyung throws his hands up, frustrated.

“Jimin’s right.” Namjoon uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his hair, “She must have mentioned something, anything. You have to think.”

“You think I have the mental capability to think right now?” Taehyung questions with a bitter chuckle. “She doesn’t do much. She never mentioned some grand event she goes to every year, she didn’t mention what school she went to, she didn’t mention what company she worked for, she didn’t fucking mention anything. She stays to herself.” Then Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“You know I use to go to this coffee place almost every single day. I miss it. That routine. It’s called ------------…a small, family owned shop. Only one of its kind. I would read, write, journal. Just relax. Every day.” You breathe out, missing your comfort spot.

Taehyung rushes to stand from the bed, he is quick to scoop Jimin up in his arms and place a dramatic kiss to his cheek.

“Jimin you fucking genius!” Taehyung suddenly remembered the night you had a panic attack. When you calmed down enough to speak you told him all the things you missed about your real life. Including some coffee place you would frequent on the regular. But he cannot remember the name of it for the life of him.

“What? What?” Jimin starts giggling, “Why?”

“A coffee shop! She used to go to a coffee shop!” Taehyung basically yells in excitement.

“Okay, what’s it called?” Namjoon smiles and immediately Taehyung expression turns sour.

“I…I don’t remember. But it was family owned, only one of its kind.”

Namjoon can’t help the frown that decorates his face but then he tries to smile.

“Better start doing your research lover boy.”

“Cozy Coffee. It’s in (Your city).” Taehyung slams a sheet of paper onto the bar top in front of Namjoon. “I found it.”

“What’d you find?” Jin asks from besides him, “Wait that place y/n goes to?”

Taehyung nods his head quickly with a wide ass smile adoring his face.

“Yup.”

“Now what, kid?” Yoongi brings his beer to his lips as he takes a generous sip. “You going to call that place and ask for her?” he laughs a little.

“No.” Taehyung straightens his back as he speaks. “I’m going there.”

“You’re…” Hobi begins but stops when he sees how serious Taehyung is.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jungkook starts shaking his head. “This girl—”

“y/n.” Taehyung snaps.

“Right…” Jungkook gulps. “y/n…she ignores you these last 6 months and you are still trying to be with her?”

All of the boys share looks with one another, frowns on everyone’s faces.

“Jungkook is right—”

“Tae told her he would do whatever it takes…he also believes in her feelings. So let’s believe in him.” Jimin cuts in, his hand going to Taehyung’s shoulder and giving him a smile.

“Jimin is right…” Namjoon breathes out, “Let’s trust in our Taehyungie.”

“But don’t forget what she did to you Taehyung.” Jungkook whispers seriously. “You weren’t okay…”

Another day passes and still, nothing from you. Taehyung brings yet another bottle of soju to his mouth as he starts downing it. He feels his world collapsing around him. He feels how everything around him is cracking and breaking apart. But the most cracked, broken thing is him. He looks at himself in the mirror and stares into his empty eyes, these same eyes that used to gaze at you. These same eyes that saw your smile, laugh, cry. These same eyes that undressed you. These same eyes that saw you coming undone over and over. These same eyes.

Taehyung chugs back his drink, his eyes never leaving his reflection as he finishes the bottle. He made a mistake tonight, a drunken mistake but a mistake nonetheless. He slept with Hana. Taehyung, the boys and Hana and her girlfriends were all at the bar tonight and he just doesn’t see her that way. Yet, he was inside her just an hour ago. He slowly closes his eyes, regret and guilt filling his entire being. What the fuck did he do?

His life is all over the place, a mess, if you will. A big, fat messy mess. He got a new apartment, leaving his parents’ house and he doesn’t think he has cleaned it even once since moving in. He drowns in alcohol, he drowns in unfinished songs, he drowns in his friends concerns and mostly? He drowns in you.

He stares at your photographs an unhealthy amount. He has cried over your photos countless times, he has touched himself to them too. Somehow that is more satisfying than the sex he just shared with Hana. The empty fuck he just gave her haunts him in this very mirror. Did he betray you? Have you also fucked someone new? Have you moved on?

Taehyung stares at himself, hating what he sees. You’re doing this to him. He went from being miserably depressed to angry. He’s beginning to blame you for everything with rage. But as much as he wants to hate you—he does want to—he just can’t. He can’t gather that type of energy in your direction. He just can’t.

Hana looks very pretty tonight…she’s been trying extra hard lately, Taehyung thinks. She is always casually got a hand on his arm, she always finds a way to be standing next to him, talking to him, leaning into him. Taehyung isn’t stupid. She wants him still. She apparently dated during the 8 months he was gone but nothing serious came from it. And now here she is, sleeping on his bed as he drinks by himself in his bathroom mirror.

So many different thoughts have gone through Taehyung’s head. Is he hard to love? That’s the main question that came out of all of this. You spent every day with him for 8 months and you weren’t even sure of your feelings. Shouldn’t a person know by then? He’s trying to be understanding…he is trying so fucking hard to understand but how can he? When he is balls deep in love with you and he doesn’t have to question it at all.

He is spiraling, he is being sucked into a darkness that he can’t crawl out of. He looks at himself in the mirror again, his eyes narrowing at his own reflection—disgusted with what he sees. He grips the empty bottle of soju as he feels his eyes wet with tears. He grips on to the bottle harder and harder, tears now leaving his big brown eyes. He growls out, groaning in frustration as he lifts the bottle up and throws it at his mirror. Glass shattering everywhere.

Startled, Hana jumps from the bed and rushes to the loud sound, finding Taehyung just standing lifeless, continuing to eye himself in the broken mirror. He likes what he sees much better. The cracked glass making for a better reflection, a more accurate representation of what he truly sees when he views himself.

“What the fuck?!” Hana yells out, rushing to Taehyungs side. “Are you okay???”

Taehyung walks closer to the mirror and lightly slides his hand down the cracked mirror, his fingers careful not to get cut.

“No.” he answers honestly and quietly. “I’m not.”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” Taehyung assures him, “At least I will be…when I see her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” Yoongi says quietly, worried for his friend. He brings his beer to the bar top and stares at the liquid.

“I’ll get to that when I get to that.” Taehyung sighs out…”I can’t let go of this until I know for sure.”

~~~~~~

Settling into your new job has been smooth, thankfully. It’s only been a few weeks but you can say you really like it. Your boss is an older woman, your coworkers seem nice and the work isn’t too taxing. Your apartment is starting to come together as well, only a few more boxes left to unpack. On the outside things are honestly going well…your life looks normal and put together. But on the inside you continue to fall apart.

“Come on!” Ellie whines, “Just give me one little, tiny, juicy detail.”

“Ew, no!” you laugh, “I have nothing to share!”

“Oh, bullshit.” Ellie takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke the other direction.

You two are sitting on your balcony, watching the evening sun set.

“You are trying to tell me you two didn’t fuck? Not even once?” Ellie gives you a knowing smile and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay maybe once.”

“I call bullshit again.” Ellie starts to laugh, thrusting her hips forward theatrically, “I bet you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Something like that.” You admit shyly.

“I don’t blame you. He looks so hot.” Ellie takes another puff of her cigarette. “What was he like in bed?”

“Ugh, Ellie.” You groan, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Afraid of getting horny thinking about it?” She chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you one thing.” You hold one finger up, giving her a look that says you are serious. Ellie giggles, nodding her head in agreement.

“He’s…big.” You basically whisper.

“He’s what?”

“Shut up, you heard me.” You laugh, “First time I saw it he wasn’t even fully hard and I was impressed.” You smirk, feeling proud of Taehyung’s gorgeous dick.

“Damn girl. Nice.” Ellie nods in approval, “Did he know how to use it?”

“Ugh….yes.” you roll your eyes back, remembering the feel of his cock. “He did. Aaaannnd he is probably using it on his new girlfriend.” You sigh, feeling your heart break piece by piece in your chest.

“What? What do you mean???” Ellie puts her cigarette out in the ash tray, “New girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” You keep it short and simple. “Anyway, I really do not want to talk about him anymore.”

“…Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

You give your sister a sad, small smile and she returns it. You feel your phone buzz in your lap and you go to pick it up, you quite literally feel all the color drain from your face. Your heart stops completely. What the actual fuck? Why is he texting you? Him of all people?

Finally gathering the courage to buy his plane ticket, Taehyung begins packing for his trip. He got a roundtrip flight for one week. He has one week to find you. He’s starting to get nervous, really fucking nervous. He had all this confidence to do this but honestly? Over the last 6-7 months he has become quite insecure. You left him in shambles. He grew weak without you, he grew pathetic in his eyes.

“Make sure you bring plenty of underwear.” Jimin teases, helping Taehyung pack. “You never pack enough and somehow end up going commando.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Taehyung is too nervous to even joke around, he is too nervous to even look at Jimin—his best friend—for more than a second because he is afraid he is going to see right through him.

“You’re nervous.” Jimin blurts out and Taehyung opens his mouth in shock. But should he be? Jimin is his best friend, he can read him like a book.

“Yeah…”

“I think you have every right to be.” Jimin pats him on the shoulder, “You have been through a lot…and so much is unknown.”

“Yeah….” Taehyung agrees, “I feel like I’m walking into this blind.”

“You kind of are.” Jimin admits quietly. “You kind of are.”

“Do you think…I’m making a mistake?” Taehyung sits down on his bed, messing with the blanket between his fingers.

“No.” Jimin answers honestly. “I am probably the one who has heard about y/n the most. I almost feel like I know her.” Jimin laughs, “And I think you’re right. She was scared. This company…fuck that company by the way, this company set you two up and tried to force love on you. Of course that’s going to fuck her up. Of course she is going to have her doubts…you can’t blame her Tae. Yeah, it’s fucked up she hasn’t reached out at all but dude…it’s a tricky situation.”

“I know…” Taehyung’s head falls into his hands, “Fuck…I know.”

“And…” Jimin sits down next to him, “I don’t want you to regret not looking for her, it sucks that it’s you doing everything, I can admit that. I wish she would grow some fucking balls and talk to you but looks like you got to do all the work buddy.”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung checks into some dingy hotel downtown in the city you live, the place is dark, gritty even. But it’s just one of the first places that was affordable that popped up when he was googling places to stay. He doesn’t totally mind, he doubts he will be spending much time in here. He receives his key from the girl at the front desk, she eyes him up and down, obviously liking what she sees.

Taehyung walks down a dark hallway to reach his room—he’s starting to feel like the main character in a horror movie. He reaches his door and unlocks it, opening it and shuffling inside with his luggage. The room smells dusty, the bed is small and the blanket thin. The room is loud with the AC unit blowing freezing air and the dark curtains don’t let in any light whatsoever.

He sets his luggage down on the carpet and sits on the bed…he takes his phone out and sends a text to his group chat that he made it alive.

Namjoon 4:02pm

Good luck man, we’re rooting for you.

Jungkook 4:02pm

Fingers crossed homie

Jin 4:03pm

Bring her back to Korea

Yoongi 4:03pm

He can’t just bring her back Jin

Hobi 4:03pm

I also vote he brings her back with him

Jimin 4:04pm

I agree, I want to meet the infamous y/n

Taehyung 4:04pm

Am I also allowed to vote that I want to bring her back with me?

Taehyung quietly laughs to himself as he clicks his phone off. He lays back on the bed and groans when he feels how hard the mattress is. But it doesn’t matter because he is here on a mission, a mission to find you and he wants to waste no time.

Day 1:

Taehyung wakes up early to grab a bite to eat at the diner next to the hotel, this place doesn’t even offer complimentary breakfast! The audacity. He orders pancakes but they definitely aren’t as good as yours.

Waking up and breathing the same city air you’re breathing makes Taehyung for the first time in 6 months—feel alive. Like being in the same place as you is slowly helping him regain some of his self back. He knows you are here. You live here. You walk these streets, you eat these foods, you breathe this air. The same fucking air he is breathing.

Nothing excites him and makes him more nauseas. He misses you. He wants to see you. But he is afraid at the same time. He’s so fucking terrified. How will you react? Are you okay? Do you really not love him? Have you moved on? Seeing someone new? His mind races as he cuts into these pancakes.

Taehyung pulls out his phone and checks the time…almost 7 am. He needs to hurry to the coffee place…because what if you stop by there on your way to work? Or maybe you don’t work right now and you go there just to chill? He doesn’t know but he knows he won’t miss a chance to see you.

Taehyung finishes up his plate of food and pays. He leaves the diner and starts walking towards Cozy Coffee, only a 15 minute walk. He inhales deeply, hoping to somehow get a whiff of you, he looks at all the flowers on the side of the sidewalks and thinks of you. Would you be interested in a bouquet of flowers? He recalls on your first unofficial first date he gave you a handful of flowers from the island and you liked it. Ugh, what is he thinking? All he needs to be worried about right now is fucking finding you.

Finally, Taehyung makes his way inside Cozy Coffee. It’s a pretty small place but big enough for a handful of people to be occupying the many tables. His eyes scan the area but they don’t come across you. He sighs and heads towards the counter to order a tea and take a seat at a table in the back near the restrooms.

He spends hours here in this spot. The entire day actually. No sign of you. And the owner has to literally escort him out when it is closing time. He walks back to the hotel with his head hanging low, he guesses today wasn’t a day for reading or writing.

Day 2:

These pancakes aren’t bad actually, not the second time around. Yours are still better, of course but he’s getting use to them. Maybe tomorrow he should try something different.

Taehyung walks leisurely towards the coffee shop, he somehow has this idea he might run into you on the street or something. But he doesn’t.

The coffee shop is a little less busy today, Taehyung goes inside, orders his tea and occupies the same table as yesterday. He pulls his backpack to his lap and brings out a notebook and pen, he decides he will work on song lyrics today.

Hours and hours pass, tea after tea is drank and still, no sign of you. Closing time approaches and he is once again, asked to leave. Taehyung nods in understanding, gathers his belongings and walks back to the hotel. Slowly of course, because deep down he thinks he just might run into you.

Day 3:

French toast today…not as good as the pancakes but still, pretty good. He wonders if you can make French toast? You never mentioned it. Taehyung realizes there is still so much he does not know about you. The thought kind of drives him crazy. He wants to know you. Know all of you. Know you better than anyone else.

The walk to the coffee shop is slow and enjoyable. The scenery is pretty as he strolls on the sidewalk, the flowers poking through the cement bring him a small level of joy for the day. Once he enters the shop, the owner gives him a smile. He orders his tea and makes his way to the back table, pulls out his notebook and starts writing his song lyrics.

On my pillow. Can’t get me tired. Sharing my fragile truth. That I hope the door is still open. Cause the window. Opened one time with you and me. Now my forever is falling down. Wondering if you’d want me now.

Taehyung sets his pen down taking a break from writing, he reaches for his tea and takes a few sips. The liquid has gone cold. He sighs out and lets the hours pass him by. Closing time approaches like it does every night and he is asked to leave.

Day 4:

He’s back to getting pancakes. He likes to pretend they are yours, that you made them for him. He likes to imagine a life where you make breakfast for him again. He likes to imagine a life where you’re just here again. It’s almost 7 am, he needs to head to the coffee shop. He strolls casually, wondering what you are up to on this Thursday morning. Are you finally going to make an appearance at Cozy Coffee? Are you running late for work? Are you in early today?

Taehyung enters the shop and the owner gives him a sweet smile and begins working on his tea. Taehyung feels grateful that it’s being made without him even ordering it yet, a smile adorning his face. He pays for the tea and makes his way to the his table, pulls out his notebook and continues working on his song.

I’m wondering are you my best friend? Feels like a river’s rushing through my mind. I wanna ask you if this is all just in my head. My heart is pounding tonight, I wonder if you are too good to be true. And would it be alright if I pulled you closer.

Taehyung lets hours and hours pass, his pen busy on his notebook paper. The lyrics coming to him so easily for the first time in months. He can’t help the sad smile that grows on his face as he reads and rereads his song lyrics.

Just like every day when the bell of the front door jingles his head shoots up to see who it is. Now is no different. A woman comes in and his heart almost stops because she looks like you at first glance. Taehyung groans at the disappointment. Because it’s not you.

Day 5:

Okay, he is back to French toast. It’s starting to grow on him, he definitely wants to ask you to make this for him. His imagination begins to run wild with dreams of making food with you again, kissing the side of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind you. Like the many times he has done it.

“Taehyung…” you whine as he nips your neck with his teeth. “I’m trying to concentrate on this recipe.”

“I’m trying to concentrate too.” Taehyung smirks against your soft skin, “On you.”

You can’t help the blush that begins spreading across your cheeks, his fingers dig into your hips and you moan out.

“Taehyung…”

“What is it baby?” he starts kissing your neck. “Want me to fuck you? Right here?” he digs his fingers deeper into your hips and you start grinding against him.

“Couch.” You breathe out. “I want to ride you.”

“Oh? You want to be in control? Maybe I will allow it this once.” He teases, his tongue licking a strip up to your ear, then he nibbles on the lobe.

Taehyung finds his pants getting tight as he recalls his memories with you. He misses kissing you, he misses touching you, he misses your scent, he misses your skin, your eyes, your lips.

Shit, it’s past 7. He needs to hurry to Cozy’s.

He’s seated in his spot with his tea and notebook out, he swears he is almost finished with this song…the chorus needs some work but he thinks he’s got it. Something about being ships in the night, but somehow he doesn’t have the courage to finish he song, he doesn’t want that to be his relationship with you.

Night time comes and still no sign of you. Tomorrow is his last day and he is starting to freak out. Where are you? He thought you came here all the time? Why aren’t you coming? Are you okay? He is asked to leave once again and he does.

Day 6:

Back to pancakes. Back to strolling on the side walk. Back to Cozy’s. Back to his tea. Back to his spot.

Taehyung feels the nerves in his body multiplying with every shaky breath he takes. Today is the last night, his flight is in the morning and he has made no progress on finding you. This place being his only hint.

“Excuse me…” Taehyung walks up to the counter and greets the owner.

“What can I do for you young man? Another tea?” he softly smiles at Taehyung but Taehyung shakes his head.

“I have a question…” he begins. “Do you know y/n y/l/n?”

“y/n???” the old man begins to smile after expressing his confusion, “Of course I do, that girl has been coming here for years.” He starts wiping down the counter with a rag. “Why? You looking for her? You aren’t some creepy ex-boyfriend are you?”

“No, no.” Taehyung laughs. “But I am looking for her…she usually comes here right?” he nervously chuckles.

“Usually. But she started a new job recently that has kept her a little busy…” the old man continues to wipe down the counter. “But she was in just last week! And It’s Saturday!” he cheers, “She always comes to write on weekends.”

Taehyung lights up at that. “Really??” he shows the old man a wide, boxy grin. He feels like he hasn’t smiled like that in what seems like forever. All because there is finally a chance he might see you.

“Oh…” The old man stops wiping to get a good look at Taehyung. “You look like a man in love.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen just a bit before he smiles, “Do I?”

The shop is busy today. Taehyung sits in his usual spot, writing and doodling in his notebook, his head lifting up quickly every time the door jingles. It’s never you though. It is already 6pm and there is still no sign on you and Taehyung hates that he is starting to lose hope. Are you not coming? He doesn’t have much time left.

Taehyung sits here, his pen between his lips as he thinks about you. He thinks about the first time he saw you…he really thought you were some girl he might have drunkenly hooked up with…he remembers your expression, how shocked, how scared, how overwhelmed you were. He wishes now he could go back in time and hug you. Tell you he’s with you, together. That you aren’t alone. Taehyung wishes he could kiss your temple, bring you in close and make you feel okay. He recalls the first time you two really interacted.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head.

Taehyung can’t help but chuckle. God, you were such a brat. It’s almost 7 now…still no sign of you.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Taehyung continues to chuckles as he goes down memory lane…he does regret being mean to you at first but god, you truly were a fucking brat. But he laughs about it now, loving every single memory he shares with you.

The door jingles and he shoots his head up, hoping it is you. But still, just like every other fucking time—it’s not.

Taehyung groans into his notebook, feeling lost and frustrated. What’s he going to do if you don’t show? He’s trying here. Is the universe really that cruel? And suddenly the door jingles again, but he doesn’t look up, he knows it isn’t you.

“Hi Mister Jones!”

Oh. Oh. That voice. That voice belongs to you. Taehyung whips his head up and there you are. You are standing at the doors entrance with a nervous smile on your face, why are you nervous? You are wearing jeans and a oversized t shirt, a casual but cute look. And Taehyung is falling in love with you. Seeing you in the real world for the first time has him frozen in place.

“The usual?”

“Yeah.” You reply calmly, glancing at the empty table at the front of the shop. You pull a chair out and take a seat, your back to Taehyung. He is still frozen. He all of the sudden feels unprepared for this. He all of the sudden feels sick. He clenches his jaw as he watches your back. You are here, living your life without even think of him aren’t you? Taehyung swallows down his anger now. He has to. Anger won’t do him any good.

He takes long breath after long breath trying to compose himself and find his confidence to go up to you and confront you. He blinks back his growing tears of frustration and stands from his table, the chair screeching against the wooden floors.

He stands here, frozen again. What if you really do not want to see him? That this was all intentional? He starts to feel sick again. He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to get rid of the feeling of nausea.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You think having feelings for me means that’s it? That it’s the end? Baby, it would only be the beginning.” Taehyung leans down again as he caresses your face. “I know you’re scared. I know you have trauma that you’re still getting through. I know your ex fucked you up. But I’m not him. I’m Taehyung. I’m…fuck, I don’t know. y/n, please just open your heart to me.” Taehyung looks at you with so much compassion that it physically hurts.

“I know,” your voice shakes, “I know you aren’t him, Tae.” You take his hand in yours, “I do like you.” You finally admit, shutting your eyes.

“Look at me.” Taehyung commands, “Look at me babe.”

You slowly open your eyes again, gazing into his dark ones and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer.

“I’m only looking at you.”

Taehyung quickly opens his eyes as he finds his resolve. You love him. He knows it. He feels it. You wanted him, just like how he wanted you—wants you.

He nods his head, trying to pump himself up, about to gain the courage to walk to you when the door jingles again and a man walks in. A man that immediately looks at you and smiles.

This man takes a seat across from you at the small table and Taehyung feels his heart halting in his chest. He feels himself grow warm, he feels himself grow the company of something evil, something green. He feels himself grow incredibly fucking jealous. So you do have someone. You moved on. You have someone, someone that is not him. Taehyung slowly plops back down in his chair, his mouth slightly open as he watches this man talk and smile at you.

But suddenly, Taehyung notices how tense you become. How you grip on to your purse harder and harder with every word this man speaks. He can sense you from here…something is wrong. Who is this man? Why is he making you so uncomfortable? Is this not a date? Taehyung isn’t sure what to do. He could be reading this all wrong, he could be imagining this for his own sake. He could be creating this world where you don’t love anyone but him.

But then you stand from your chair abruptly and storm out of the shop, this man desperately tries to grab for you and quickly follows after you. Taehyung stands from his chair as well, already racing towards the shops door, in search of you. He didn’t even think about it, he just acted on instinct.

“y/n!” the man calls out after you but you continue to speed walk away until you feel a hand grab at your arm. You are quick to turn around, ready to give him an earful when your face goes completely pale.

“T-Taehyung…?” you stutter out, the shock riding in waves throughout your entire body.

“I said wait baby!” The man jogs up to you and Taehyung, Taehyung releases his hold on your arm and looks between you and this man.

“Baby?” Taehyung whispers out, already feeling his heart crack inside his chest. Maybe this is just a lovers quarrel. He continues looking between you and this man and you can see the hurt plastered all over Taehyung’s face.

“No—”

“Who is this?” The man stands between you and Taehyung. “Who are you?”

“Ben, you can leave. I think I have heard enough.” You spit out and Taehyung’s eyes widen before they are narrowing at you.

“Ben…?” he asks, not even sparing Ben a glance, only focusing on you. “Why are you with him y/n?” Taehyung’s voice goes dangerously low. “I asked, why are you with him?”

“He was just—”

“I was just talking with my girl. Is that a problem?”

“Your girl?” You and Taehyung ask in unison.

“You’re fucking kidding, right y/n?” Taehyung’s face is taken over with a scowl. “There’s no fucking way you are seeing this asshole again.”

“It’s not—”

“Asshole?” Ben scoffs, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taehyung doesn’t even look Bens way as he eyes you, he stuffs his hands into his front pockets and stares at you with his hard expression.

“Answer me.” He commands. “Now.”

“Listen buddy—” Ben begins but Taehyung just a holds a hand up in front of Bens face and tilts his head at you.

“I said, now.” Taehyung finally lowers his hand, then he is feeling his body being shove backward.

“I said who the fuck are you?” Ben pushes Taehyung, his hands still on his chest at the collar of his shirt. “How do you know my girl? y/n…you been fucking other men?”

“I’m not your fucking girl Ben.” You finally snap out of your daze, “I said leave.”

Ben lets go of Taehyung shirt to face you, he walks closer and closer until his feet are practically touching your own.

“Sweetheart I said I was sorry…” Ben tries to caress your face but you smack his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You spit out, “Ever.”

Taehyung eyes the both of you with curiosity. What’s going on here? Are you with him or aren’t you? You notice Taehyung’s confused expression and move towards him to begin explaining.

“Ben is just here to explain why he did what he did…I don’t know why I agreed…but—”

“I’ve heard enough.” Taehyung stops you, he walks closer to you. “He’s bothering you?”

“I ain’t bothering anyone you fucking dick. And you never answered my question—who the fuck are—”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers and you watch the collision of Taehyung’s fist to Ben’s face. You swear you are witnessing it in slow motion, the way his fist crashes into the side of Bens jaw. The way Ben stumbles back and falls to the pavement. The way Taehyung grits his teeth as he brings his fist back to his own body. Did Taehyung just fucking punch your ex-boyfriend in the fucking face?

“She said to fucking leave.” Taehyung growls, “Now.”

“Taehyung!” you rush to his side, immediately reaching for his fist and inspecting it for any damage. You are hit with something massive…like the grandest bolt of electricity the moment your hand touches his. You try your hardest to ignore it, to ignore the fire that caught light, the raging fire that burns so wildly in your chest.

“Come. Come with me.” You say in panic, ignoring the fact that Ben lays on the concrete, probably knocked the fuck out. You hold on to Taehyung’s hand tightly as you lead him to the parking lot until you’re at your car. You hurry to let go of his hand, feeling so fucking nervous. What the hell is happening? Everything with Ben happened so fast that you haven’t even processed the fact that Taehyung is here. Here with you. In your city. In this parking lot. At your car.

“Tae—”

You stop before you can even finish his name. He looks at you with something you have never seen before. He goes to open his mouth but he stops himself, not knowing what the right thing to say is.

“I don’t know what to say anymore now that I am with you.” Taehyung finally says after a long while, his eyes are wet and his expression is troubled.

“I thought I would get here and I would tell you I am ready to make this work, that I missed you, that I love you. But now…seeing you. Really seeing you, I don’t know anymore.” He admits. “I think I am angry with you.” He says softly. “Really fucking angry.”

“Tae—”

“No.” he moves his head to the side, his eyes down at his shoes. “Let me speak. I have prepared a whole speech for you…but now, I don’t think I would mean any of the words.” He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping. “Did you go too far? Too far in hurting me?” he whispers. “Did you ruin me?”

You start breathing heavily, not knowing how to take his words. Why is he here?

“I had to fucking search for you. But did you even want to be found?” he questions you softly.

“Taehyung.” You say firmly. “I—”

“Am I a fool?” He chokes out, “A fool for doing this? Coming all the way here…sitting at this coffee place every single day waiting for you like the pathetic man that I am.” Another tear slips.

“Can I talk now?” you whisper. “Please?”

Taehyung gulps down his spit, anticipating what you might say. He gestures for you to speak and you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out…” you begin, your chest getting tighter and tighter. “Every day that passed it got harder and harder to do it. If I’m being honest I stalked your account…” you admit with a bitter laugh, “You seemed happy. I wasn’t even sure you wanted me to reach out. Then Hana…”

“Hana?” Taehyung scrunches his brows together, “What’s Hana got to do with this?”

“You two are together aren’t you? I know, Taehyung.” You swallow hard.

Taehyung shakes his head in confusion, how do you know about Hana? You know he slept with her or?

“It was only one time.” Taehyung admits quietly…”but how do you know about that?”

“She posted you on her Instagram. I just assumed.” You say dryly, feeling a pang in your chest as you look at him. So he did get with her. You fucking knew it.

“Why are you here Taehyung?”

“I was here to tell you I love you. I want to make this work.” He says bluntly.

“Was?” you whisper and he nods.

“Now that I am here and I see you, I know I fucking love you still. But I think I’m lost and confused right now.” He admits between bated breaths. “I was so nervous to see you and to be honest looking at you now…I still feel nervous. Like, I could throw up.”

“I feel that way too.” You admit.

“You hurt me, y/n.” he steps closer to you, his gaze is dark and unwavering. “Can I forgive you?” he whispers and you choke back a sob. “Do you even love me back?...That’s also a main problem here.”

“I don’t know what to say.” You breathe out roughly, “I’m sorry for our last conversation on the island.”

“Are you?” he takes another step. “Are you really?”

“Yes, Tae…I …I…”

“You? You?” Another step.

“I was so scared, I was so confused.” You take a step back, but he continues walking towards you. “ But I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” he steps closer. “About that ‘maybe’ hmm?” he steps even closer until he is breathing the same zone of air as you. He reaches for your jaw with his hand and tilts your head up towards him. “I could have fucking told you that.”

“Taehyung…” you don’t mean to whimper, but you do. You fucking do. “I’m sorry. It just got so hard to talk to you but I have thought about you every second of every day.”

“Every second?” he scoffs, “Even as you were having coffee with fucking Ben?”

“It seriously isn’t what it looks like…” you rush to say, “He wouldn’t stop pestering me.”

“Tell me how you feel y/n. Right fucking now.” He roughly commands, his fingers still on your jaw.

“I—”

“I want everything, every detail. I want to know exactly what’s going on in this brain of yours.” Taehyung looks at you with hard eyes. “I want the truth.”

You scrunch your face up as you try not to cry, you feel so many overwhelming feelings all at once. You don’t know what to say. You love him. But is it that simple? “I…” You gulp.

“You?” his eyes soften just the slightest, “Just talk to me babe.” His voice loses all its edge as you begin to silently cry. His thumb wipes away your falling tears. “Just talk to me.”

“I miss you so fucking much.” Is the first thing that slips out of your mouth, “You have no idea…” you sob.

“If anyone has an idea, it’s me.” He chuckles bitterly.

“I let time pass me by Tae, I regret it so much. But as the seconds ticked by I knew I was losing my window of opportunity. And before I knew it 6 months had passed.” You choke, “I am so, so sorry.” You stare into his dark eyes. “The company did me a favor.” You laugh, “They gave me you. I fell in love with you, Taehyung. I just…I’m so sorry I doubted myself, doubted you.”

Taehyung’s features soften as he listens to you, he feels himself grow weak. Especially with his fingers touching your skin. He pulls back from you and leans against your car.

“Are you still in love with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” You sniffle, wiping your face of your tears. “I think I always will be, even if you decide you hate me.”

“I wish I could hate you.” Taehyung throws his head back, “It would make this easier, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Make what easier?”

“Leaving you behind.” He says quietly, “Leaving us behind.”

Your body begins to shake as more tears escape you, you feel the heavy weight of his words fucking crush you. He wants nothing to do with you. He doesn’t want you anymore. You fucked up too badly. Taehyung watches as you sob for several minutes, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. He clicks his tongue and puts a hand on your shoulder and rubs it.

“That’s what I think I should do.” He says, “But I can’t.”

Wait, what?

“You c-can’t?”

“I love you too much. And I all my friends voted I bring you back to Korea.” He says with a small smirk.

“But you?” you cry, “You said you are leaving me?”

“I was thinking aloud. And to be honest I wanted you to suffer a bit.” He says with his dark gaze. “I wanted to punish you just a little.”

Your wide eyes narrow at him and you can’t help but cry harder. “You fucking sadist.”

“Maybe a little.” He admits with a growing sly smile. “We have a lot to talk about.” He says after a moment. “Do you want to make this work with me or not?”

“Are you serious? Even after all of this you still want to be with me?”

“We’re soulmates, baby. Or did you forget?”

“You fucking smartass.” You wipe at your face, wiping your snots on the collar of your t shirt. “But yes…I want to make this work.”

“Spend a couple weeks with me in Korea. I want to start over with you. Take things slow. I am still angry. But I fucking love you.”

“A couple weeks in Korea?” you shake your head, “I can’t take off work that long.”

“I am not going to beg you.” Taehyung warns, “But please.”

A couple weeks in Korea? With Taehyung? Meeting his family? His friends? Starting over? Going slow? Can you two really do this?

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #the island chapter 8

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katherine-traylor · 2 years ago

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Belated review: 'Midnight Mass'

My partner and I often have trouble choosing what to watch. She’s seen almost everything, for one thing, and I hate making her rewatch things. The overlap in our tastes also isn’t that wide, so it can be difficult finding something we both enjoy. Last week I randomly picked Midnight Mass, though, and it turned out to be a very good choice.

To make it clear: we are not horror fans. I walked out of IT about ten minutes in, and my attempt at watching Ju-On ended after ten seconds. We’ve both been curious about The Haunting of Hill House, also by Mike Flanagan, but we weren’t together when it came out and neither of us wanted to watch it alone. (Maybe now we’ll try.) Jump scares are the real issue, at least for me. I feel them like a physical assault, and that’s not a feeling I want in my entertainment media. Fortunately, Midnight Mass doesn’t have too many,, and the ones it has are for dramatic effect, so I didn’t mind them too much. Overall, it’s a beautiful series, with great acting, wonderful music, and gorgeous cinematography.

SPOILERS below, for obvious reasons.

We start with Riley Flynn. While driving drunk, he causes an accident that kills a teenage girl and is sent to prison for four years. The story begins when he comes home to the dying fishing community of Crockett Island. At the same time, Erin Greene, Riley’s childhood friend and sweetheart, has come home pregnant from a bad marriage. She’s settling into life as a single mom-to-be, taking her own mother’s place as the island’s only teacher. At the same time, Sheriff Hassan, one of two Muslims on the island and a recent transfer from New York City, is trying to build a meaningful life in a small, hostile town where there’s nothing much to do. His son resents him for bringing him here, and both are generally made to feel like outsiders. Meanwhile, the island’s few teenagers do their best to keep themselves sane in a place where nothing interesting has happened in years.

Then something does happen: to the shock of everyone in the congregation of St. Patrick’s, the local Catholic church, a new priest has come to fill in for the old priest, Monsignor Pruitt, who supposedly fell ill on his return from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The new priest, Father Paul, is very good at his job: kind, charismatic, and a talented preacher. Everyone seems to like him, and attendance at mass is going up. Good things are happening, relationships are forming, upswing, and the community as a whole seems to be on an upswing.

At the same time, though, some pretty nasty things are happening, too. (Content warning, if you’re thinking of watching this show: there are lots of animal deaths, including one very graphic one that’s extremely awful.) Father Paul seems to know more than he should, and in general there seem to be lots of secrets for an island with 127 people on it.

Then a genuine miracle happens at St. Patrick’s, and suddenly the mood changes.

I won’t completely spoil the rest, but I will say we were just a hair disappointed by the revelation of what’s actually happening in town: the truth wasn’t quite as mysterious and strange as the first episodes suggested. But it was a really neat twist on the trope.

The priest (played by Hamish Linklater) was a cool character: earnest, devoted, well-meaning, and tragically misguided. The congregation was also mostly devoted and well-meaning (though, critically, not all of them were) and I thought the director did a good job showing the positives and negatives of deep religious faith. Mike Flanagan apparently grew up Catholic and is now atheist, and you can definitely see that in this series. The incorporation of religious music is very effective, and it’s neat how key moments of the story are set at key points during Holy Week, building up to a catastrophic midnight mass on the eve of Easter Sunday where everything finally goes down.

The final scene of the show is really beautiful, and it’s a great callback/final summation of all those religious themes, with what felt like a reenactment of some of the earliest days of Christianity. It was clearly very deeply thought through, and really effective. Addiction, the show’s other main theme, was really well dealt with, treating the subject with both honesty and compassion. The series also has things to say about life in a small, traditional, dying community. The depiction was really strong, but if it had been possible, I would have liked to see just a tiny bit more of Crockett Island before everything went to pieces. I’m not even sure what state it’s supposed to be–Maine, maybe? It’s not important, I guess, but it would have been nice to know a little more about some of the extras who died horrifically during the course of the show.

One of the strongest points of the series was Bev Keane, played by Samantha Sloyan. She was a fantastic villain in that I absolutely hated her from moment one. Well done. She’s a kind of person who feels very familiar, though I can’t think of specific examples: a judgmental zealot who resents all the sinners around her for having a good time, and who can’t understand why everyone seems to be happier than her when she’s following all the rules and they’re not. There was some interesting little-girl imagery her portrayal (hair in a single braid down her back, Peter Pan collars, a high-necked white dress for mass, and a general air of “malicious tattletale” attitude”) that shows you she’s always been like this. Having never matured emotionally past “teacher’s pet,” she has no real depth of soul and isn’t able to understand genuine human relationships. There’s a brief moment at the end where she seems to have gained a hint of maturity, but (spoiler) it doesn’t last. It was a really compelling performance and added a lot to the show.

Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli) was another strong performance, though I would have liked to see just a little more of him throughout the series. I loved his relationship with his son and the way the show dealt with the issue of religious conversion and intergenerational culture gaps, plus the irony of Hassan bringing his son to Crockett Island for safety in the context of what actually happened. I would have liked to have gotten a bit more backstory earlier in the series, because I felt like his big monologue (episode 6, I think?) tried to push too much info into too little space, but Kohli is a great actor and did an excellent job.

Riley (Zach Gilford) was probably my favorite performance. I absolutely loved him. Remorse shone through every moment, every gesture, and every word he said, and the dream images of Tara Beth were incredibly vivid and effective. I absolutely understood what he had gone through, where he was coming from emotionally, and why–after being gutted by the guilt of accidentally killing an innocent human being–he would make the choice he did rather than live through that again. The AA meetings between him and Father Paul were some of my favorite scenes. Another of my favorite characters was Joe Collie, a distorted reflection of Riley, who was also incredibly well acted (I would like to see more of Robert Longstreet).

Erin Greene, probably the main female character, was not my favorite. She was… fine… but her line delivery was a little too theatrical for me, and her big final monologue went on for WAY too long. But the actress, Kate Siegel, is apparently the director’s wife, so I guess I should get used to her if I’m going to keep watching Flanagan shows. I did love the relationship between Erin and Riley, though (from the beginning to the end). Another strong note was how Riley and his parents kept trying and and half-succeeding at reconnecting with each other throughout the story after the physical and emotional rift caused by what Riley did.

The show did have a few downsides. My main pet peeve was the lighting: though the show was set during early spring, the constant darkness and general color palette kept making me think it was October. There really is a difference between spring and autumn light, and in a series where so much of the action happens outdoors, I think that should have been taken into account. (Just looked it up and apparently it was filmed in fall because of COVID, which is understandable but unfortunate. I think it would have been better to wait a few more months.) I also felt that the last two episodes of the show were weaker than the first five (possibly because of who was missing). Overall, though, it was a really good series and I definitely recommend it.

I’d like to watch other shows and films by Mike Flanagan, but I’m worried they’ll be too scary. The Haunting of Hill House is one of my favorite books (I reread it almost every autumn), so I’m definitely interested in that adaptation. I’d also like to see The Fall of the House of Usher when it comes out, since we read that story in high school. I’d like to read The Turn of the Screw before I tackle The Haunting of Bly Manor (which is based on that book), so I’ll put that one off for a while. What spooky, creepy, pretty, and not-too-scary horror shows and movies would you recommend?

Image source here. Original blog post here.

#midnight mass #flanaverse #mike flanagan #horror #religion #vampires

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aquaquadrant · 2 years ago

Note

What’s your favourite fic you have written?

ohhhh MAN. this is actually the first time in my ten years of writing fanfic that i’ve been asked this question 😂 i’ve never thought about it before and it’s a TOUGH one. since i’ve got a few active wips, i’ll narrow it down to completed fics only.

my runner up is the mcu spider-man fic i finished last year, it wears a mask. it’s got all the angst and whump i specialize in, a creepy take on mutant spider powers, and the primary relationship is wonderfully dysfunctional, which was fascinating to write. i love where the story ended up and i love the original concepts i came up with to put a spin on existing characters. but ofc, i started the fic with NO IDEA where it would go! it took a while for the bigger story to fall into place, and as a result, some of the earlier chapters now feel disjointed from the final result imo. the last couple chapters still have a special place in my heart tho and contain some of my favorite writing to date.

but overall, i’d have to say that my favorite completed fanfic i’ve written as of right now is my recent owl house oneshot, memento mori. the setting and imagery were great to play with, and it has some of my FAVORITE angst tropes of all time (possession, anyone?) featuring my fave hunter, who reminds me a lot of a dear oc of mine (plus several other Sad But Bad Boy type characters). it was the first time i fully committed to an M-rated dark fic and i loved getting to go all OUT. every bit of this fic was planned out from the get-go, and it was so exciting to be able to fully realize my goal. i’d wanted to make something that reminded me of some really haunting fics i’ve read that helped shape me as a writer, and i was extremely happy with the end product.

of course, i’m really into my current wip so my answer might change in a few weeks HAH anyway, thanks so much for giving me the chance to ramble about my projects, i appreciate it!!

#my writing #toh #mcu spiderman

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awkwardgtace · 3 years ago

Text

Secret Brother Pt1

New OCs let's go. Trying out something idk if I'll write more with these guys. Realizing some bit of traumatic past seems required in my ocs so far.

TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.

Part 2 Part 3 (Final)

Secret Brother Part 1

Everything started when Mikhail’s students were talking about some weird happenings in their dorm. Things were going missing and a voice was heard commonly late at night. They started to say they thought it was haunted. He offered to host a study session to disprove anything, making sure to bring his shoulder bag. It was easy enough to leave open on the ground and should be tempting enough for the ‘ghost’ to climb in. He kept a close eye out and sat near a wall he thought he saw a crack in. He was starting to worry that this wouldn’t work, until he saw a small form climbing up the edge of his bag. He didn’t like doing this, but he knew the students in this dorm were more likely to share their discovery. They were being too obvious here, probably someone who just struck out on their own. Now the dorm ‘ghost’ would be somewhere much safer and could learn the skills they needed.

Mikhail was anxious for the remainder of the session. He couldn’t be obvious for the sake of the one in his bag, and the others around him. He carefully placed his bag on his shoulder, opting to carry the books he’d used out as he continued speaking with the students. He rushed to his car, placing the bag safely on the floor of the passenger seat. He took the drive slower than normal, eyes constantly drifting to his bag. He parked and rushed straight to his door. Once inside he placed his bag on the ground, unzipped it, and pulled out a random book. He quickly walked off, settling down in a chair pretending to read. He was keeping an eye out for when his passenger left the bag. After an hour he decided to just leave the bag on the floor for a few days, give the little one time to get out.

It took a few days, but he finally heard the ‘ghost’ acting. It started with a clatter sound from his kitchen late at night. He held his breath, waiting for another sign. A voice that sounded somewhat young started mumbling. He wanted to get involved and help, but it’s never gone well in the past. He would just stay as an oblivious human and they could figure this all out. At least that was his promise to himself, but the little one was far from subtle. He could hear them talking to themselves on a daily basis, they were leaving messes, and worst of all they left trails back to their entrances. Mikhail had promised himself he wouldn’t get involved anymore, but he couldn’t leave this. He sighed, gathering what he needed to help out the inexperienced borrower.

He faked a phone call claiming he’d be gone for a few days then left shutting the door loudly. He went around to the back of his house, pulling out a fishing hook with a line attached and hanging it on the windowsill of the kitchen window. He’d left it open just enough someone the size of his guest could squeeze through. He focused on the feeling he’d grown used to over the years and watched the world slowly grow around him. In only a few seconds the world towered around him. He started climbing quickly, a little out of practice since he’d gotten his size under control.

He squeezed through the open window, reminding himself to open it just a bit more next time. Once inside he froze, he never once considered the borrower might recognize him. He considered squeezing out the window again, but was stopped before taking a step. He heard a small clatter, and saw a poorly made paper clip hook fail to catch. He heard a groan from below as the paper clip fell from the counter. He just had to hope they wouldn’t notice the similarities between the human they were living with and the new borrower in the house. He took a steadying breath then marched to the edge of the counter. The borrower was already murmuring to themselves, it was clearly a problem.

“You know you’ll get caught talking to yourself like that right?” he called down. The source of the failed hook screamed, clearly not expecting anyone to be here. Mikhail hadn’t been wrong, this was definitely a kid. They were probably a teenager, and honestly didn’t look like they’d had an easy time. He took his own hook, placing it down and throwing the string off the edge. “Climb up and we can talk. Don’t want to be too loud in case the human is around.”

The kid had no hesitation climbing up, that much trust could be dangerous. Although most people this size trusted each other almost blindly. They were worn out and panting once they were at the top of the counter, clearly new to borrowing. Had he accidentally kidnapped a young curious kid? He’d find out if anyone else was there once he’d trained the kid a bit. He gave them another minute before finally starting with his plan.

“Kid, why were you making so much noise? Half of being a borrower is being quiet especially when out in the open.” he said. The kid opened their eyes and Mikhail realized he’d made a mistake. Their eyes were watery, they must have been terrified. The kid sniffled a bit as they finally got their breath back.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” they said, “my parents didn’t really teach me how to borrow yet. W-we were on our way to a new home when a storm hit and I got separated. I wound up here by accident. I climbed in the human’s bag, I thought I saw loose threads I could use, along with some food. Th-they closed the bag on me and I wound up in this house.”

“Where were you before?” Mikhail asked. He wondered if there was a chance he could find the kid’s parents at the school.

“I’m not sure, I was dragged by water for a long time. When I got out of it I-I ran to the first building I found. I’m pretty sure they got dragged away too...” the kid’s voice was quiet. They seemed to know they weren’t going to find their parents. It sounded like there may be more to the story the kid didn’t want to mention yet. Mikhail would do everything he could to make sure they could survive on their own. He was getting attached already and he hated it.

“Well I was planning to stay here for a few days before moving on again,” he started. “I can teach you the basics. I happen to know you picked a pretty good human to live with. This one doesn’t tend to investigate small noises, but he has gotten curious from times I took too much.”

“Wait wait, you'll teach me? W-why? Isn’t it better to just move on and leave me to whatever happens?”

“Who told you that?” Mikhail’s voice went icy. The kid lost their family and just needed some guidance.

“Well, I uh, I met other borrowers who always said that. Then my parents too...sometimes.”

Mikhail was ready to scream hearing that. He’d dealt with people like that a lot since he lost his parents. He wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. They froze but soon melted into the contact, he started rubbing his arm on their arm to calm them. The kid started to cry and Mikhail just let them. He knew they were safe and later, he’d say they should be careful. He let them go as long as they wanted, he knew sometimes you just needed times like this. The kid was the first one to pull away, looking a bit ashamed as they did so.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said. “We were lucky the human didn’t come back, I could have gotten us both caught. I-if this is where you usually live I can leave. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“I offered to teach you, didn't I? No one has to leave, besides I tend to be a bit more nomadic. My name is Mik, he and him,” he said.

“I-I,” the kid shook his head, “My name is Ian, he and him too, I think. Are you really all right to teach me?”

“Don’t worry about the he and him thing too much, if something else feels right just tell me, ok Ian?”

Ian nodded his head. Mikhail took the time to really assess him now that he didn’t have to worry about being an accidental kidnapper. He didn’t look like he’d had much to eat recently, although that wasn’t uncommon for borrowers. His clothes were a bit baggy, and needed some patching. Mikhail may try to pull some tricks with his shifting to get him some better clothes. Ian seemed to be at least a full inch shorter than Mikhail, which wasn’t reassuring if they ever met when he was human.

“Ian, how old are you?” he finally asked. He needed an idea before deciding the next steps.

“I-I’m seventeen, or well I’m almost seventeen.”

Mikhail nodded, a little surprised he was that old. Ian was just a teenager after all. He knew what to do then. First they’d make a better hook, then practice having it catch on tables and counters. Then how to grab supplies without leaving a trace. He’d leave him with the fish hook once the few days he gave himself were up. The fish hook and line is sturdier, and would last with fewer replacements longer. Perfect for someone still just learning, plus he could just start a collection of random hooks to leave out.

“All right, here's the plan,” Mikhail explained. It didn’t take more than that for Ian to get excited. He trailed behind Mikhail hanging on every word, mouthing the important things. Mikhail felt like he had a little brother with how this was going. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying being with Ian like this. It’s been a while since he really spent time with people outside of work. By the time the weekend ended and ‘Mik’ had to move on, neither was happy with it. Mikhail knew Ian would get better without trouble, but he didn’t want to leave him alone.

They were sitting in Ian’s home, set up a lot better with the supplies they grabbed safely over two days. Ian had gotten into a habit of staying almost on top of Mikhail while in the home, like he thought he’d disappear. It left Mikhail with a sour feeling, knowing he had to leave the kid at least for the week. He jumped a little as that thought crossed his mind. He could, probably, keep this up on the weekends. Eventually Ian would see the human’s face and he may put two and two together, until then he could keep this up. He’d only come back until he was positive Ian wasn’t being reckless, if he went a week without seeing him then ‘Mik’ would come to say goodbye. It would work fine and then Ian wouldn’t have to deal with everything that’s happened alone.

“Can I go with you?” Ian asked, it knocked Mikhail from his thoughts. Mikhail looked at him with a sad smile shaking his head. “Why not? You said I was doing well. I can get used to being an outdoors borrower. Or, or just a traveling one or whatever. Please?”

“It’s too dangerous. Maybe when you’ve improved more. I don’t want you taking risks you don’t have to. I was told the same thing by the person who taught me everything,” Mikhail explained, he knew he couldn’t just abandon him. “I can try to come back though. I help keep some others connected, but I’ll come back, I promise.”

Ian grabbed him tight into a hug, the promise barely keeping him together. Mikhail knew it was a dumb idea, but he couldn’t do it. He’d promised himself not to get involved with borrowers again after the last time, but he never expected to find a kid who had no one. Once Ian could take care of himself he’d tell him the truth and then deal with the consequences. For now he’d help him stay safe. Ian fell asleep holding Mikhail in a tight hug. He knew he shouldn’t stay like this, but it was nice to be with someone else. After a few hours he knew he had to leave. It was Monday so he had to be a human again and go to work.

He slipped out of Ian’s grasp, careful not to wake him. Quietly he grabbed the hook that they’d fashioned out of some threads and a paper clip, leaving Ian the one that he’d brought. He snuck through the walls until reaching an entrance that he’d leave open just enough to come in through again. Once out of the walls he focused on shifting back to his human size, the world slowly matching him again. He quickly made his way to the front door, keeping an eye out for anyone awake right now. He snuck in quietly, trying to avoid being loud enough to wake Ian up. He collapsed on his bed, turning his phone on with an alarm set for the class that started in a few hours.

#gt writing #gt #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t #g/t writing #OC:Ian #OC:Mikhail/Mik #OC:Mik/Mikhail

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whosscruffylooking · 4 years ago

Text

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part. I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

Tag List:

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ddeonghwaa · 4 years ago

Text

Can We Fix This? (Jaehyun)

Characters: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: angst, romance

Word count: 5.9k

Hello! This is the sequel of my story “Too Late”. I hope you guys give it lots of love because I’ve been working on it for quite some time! Enjoy!

If you haven’t read Too Late, you can read it here.

“I’ve been really happy for the whole five years of being in love with you, Jaehyun. Thank you for all the memories we’ve shared. I know I’ve done my best for every single moment I had with you in this relationship, so I have no regrets. Regrets… I hope you regret what you did to me and reflect on your actions.”

"I did, I regret my actions so much y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

You shook your head lightly and took a step back away from him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You looked at him for one last time, tears brimming your eyes. Tears that looked like fragile crystals, they could break any time. Before you let the tears fall, you said one last thing to him.

“Once you’re done packing my things, leave them outside.”

Your last encounter with Jaehyun kept on replaying in your head although a few days had passed. Breaking up with someone you have loved with your whole heart wasn’t easy. Everything now felt so… empty. You weren’t used to being with your own company.

Never would you have imagined yourself saying that to Jaehyun - who you thought would be the love of your life forever. But things ended up very different from what the both of you had expected. You didn’t want to blame Yewon entirely, because you knew your relationship with Jaehyun at that time wasn’t the healthiest either.

At that moment, as if Yewon knew that you were diving deep into a black hole in your mind about this, a text from her came.

Yewon: Hello, it’s me, Yewon. I’m sorry if I am bothering you. If you don’t mind, I would like to have a talk with you over lunch today.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “What does she have to say?” At first, you thought of rejecting her invitation because you didn’t have anything to say to her. However, you ended up accepting her lunch invitation to listen to whatever Yewon has to say. Giving her a chance to justify her actions? Maybe you could forgive her then.

You immediately regretted agreeing to meet up with Yewon because it just made you feel worse about yourself. The two of you went to a nearby café and sat in front of each other. You hated - no - you despised this atmosphere with Yewon. “Why did you want to meet up?” You started. Yewon cleared her throat and looked at you. “Um, I don’t know if I should say this right now, after your breakup with-”

You shot her a glare when she mentioned about your recent breakup. Who in this whole world would think it was a good idea to bring it up to someone who just recently went through it? Especially when she was partly the reason for it.

“I just thought I’d tell you this. I’m really sorry but I have sincere feelings for Jaehyun,” You flinched when you heard his name, “and I am thinking of dating him seriously. I feel guilty because of you so I thought of asking you first about it.”

You scoffed at the absurd statement. Is this girl for real? The audacity to say this to me after what she has done? You thought to yourself.

Tried maintaining your facial expressions, you replied with an “Oh.”

After what felt like a long minute, you voiced, “You can do whatever you want. It’s not like he is my boyfriend anymore. We broke up, so he can date whoever he wants.”

No. I’m still not over him. I can’t see him dating anyone else. Especially you, Yewon.

You bit your lower lips, trying hard not to break down in front of her. The corner of Yewon’s lips raised as she shot you a smile, “Yeah, but I’m really sorry about your breakup though. I knew getting in between the both of you was wrong, but I couldn’t help it,” she said insensitively.

Her apology didn’t seem sincere and you were trying your best not to smack her in the face. She looks like she’s putting on this show to look like this sweet and nice girl that everyone likes.

“Go ahead, I’m not stopping you. But just so you know, Jaehyun really loved me and I don’t think he’d get over me that fast. What you had with him was only temporary flutters, not real love. He only wavered a little, he didn’t fall for you. He remembers every little thing we did together, every single date, every single kiss,” you shrugged and took a sip of the tea you ordered.

“To be honest, I don’t even know if he’d date you because you’d remind him of how we broke up. If you really end up dating him, I hope his memories with me will continue to haunt him and you would remind him of how he broke my heart. Although I got over it already now.”

Liar. You sound the total opposite.

“Yeah but I’ll try anyways because I really want to date him. I really want to give it a shot.”

“Yeah, go for it. You know what, Yewon?” You grabbed the glass of water in front of you and unexpectedly threw the water at Yewon without hesitation. “Don’t you think I at least deserve to do this?”

Yewon’s eyes turned big as she stood up immediately. She was shocked at what just happened and just stared at her dress that got wet.

Yes, this is not a dream. You really did that. You re-enacted a typical scene from Kdramas and it felt so satisfying. You didn’t even know you had the courage in you to do that. Other customers in the café looked weirdly at you and obviously showed expressions of sympathy for Yewon. But you didn’t care anymore. “I know it’s wrong to do that, but I couldn’t help it,” you shrugged, throwing back her own words to her.

“I hope one day you experience the same as I did. I hope you go through the pain I’m in right now because of you.”

“What did you just do?! I know you’re mad, but how can you do that?! UGH!” she shouted as her hands reached for her glass of water to throw it back at you. Your eyes squeezed shut, expecting yourself to get drenched, but nothing happened.

You peeked one of your eyes open and saw a hand stopping Yewon from doing so. A hand so familiar that you almost forgot he no longer belongs to you. It was Jaehyun.

You didn’t know how he magically appeared there but there he was, staring at you in concern. Your heart started beating so fast it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. Your breathing started to get faster each second and your palms turned cold. Clenching your hands into a fist, you tried to calm down.

I miss you. It’s only been a few days but I miss you so much, Jung Jaehyun.

You snapped back into reality when you heard Jaehyun whisper sadly, “Y/n… Are you alright?” Letting out a sigh, you picked up your bag and gave Yewon a last cold glare.

“Go get your shot,” You started walking away from the two of them, not even sparing Jaehyun a look.

“She started it first!” You heard Yewon complain to Jaehyun right when you left and thankfully her voice faded the further away you got from the café. Every second felt so suffocating with the presence of him. You couldn’t hug or kiss him like you used to. You couldn’t even take a proper look at his face without breaking down right there. You wished you could get over Jaehyun fast. Or sometimes you wished things went back to how they were before Yewon appeared. But it was too late.

It has been a tough week after the incident and you couldn’t hang out with most of your friends anymore because the two of you shared a similar group of friends. You shivered at the thought of them asking about Jaehyun and how unprofessional you would react to their questions – like bawling in front of everyone because of heartbroken you were. Yeah, you didn’t want that. Also, you didn’t want to make them feel awkward and walk on eggshells because of the breakup, although they probably already knew by now or have caught on.

The following days were filled with nothing but avoiding Jaehyun. You created this mission for yourself to help you get over him fast. It was difficult because he lives in the same building as you and moving out from your apartment wasn’t really the best option now.

One time, the elevator doors opened and before setting your foot in it, you looked up only to see Jaehyun standing inside. He looked at you softly and pressed the open button to hold the doors for you.

But you weren’t ready to face him. You immediately took a few steps back and turned, running back to your apartment.

“Y/n! Why are you running away from me…” he sighed sadly and closed the elevator doors.

A few days after that, he waited for you in front of your class to talk. When the class ended and you exited the room, he took your hands softly and whispered, “Y/n, can we talk? I have something to say to you. Please.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anything else from you,” you replied as you signalled to your hands, “Can you let go of my hands, please?” Jaehyun’s shoulders dropped as he let go of your hands again. He really didn’t want to let go this time, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

You hated feeling this way about yourself. You kept on blaming how you weren’t good enough for Jaehyun, how you were so foolish to end this relationship when you knew for a fact that you can’t live without him. Your best friend witnessed your breakdowns and she couldn’t stand seeing you suffer like that anymore.

Being the amazing best friend ever, she made appointments at hair and nail salons to give you a treat and to just cheer yourself up. You were so grateful for her, because without her, you would have struggled so much more alone.

You felt bad for yourself for not trying all of these earlier, because looking at Yewon, she was so pretty, always having her hair and nails nicely done. She’s young and knows how to present herself prettily in front of others. You envied her for that. So after so long, it felt nice getting your hair done, getting manicures and pedicures in pretty colours you’ve never tried before. It was like turning a new page in your life, trying to start anew.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, was having the hardest time of his life. He couldn’t understand how you were coping up so well because he sees you smiling in campus from time to time and it broke him more and more.

He couldn’t concentrate in class, stared into space most of the time and looked so dishevelled as if he only showered once every few days. He even got into trouble for not submitting his assignments properly. He had lost weight because he’s not been eating well after the incident. His appetite never came back and he only ate a little to make sure he stays alive.

Basically, life was giving him shit. And it was what he deserved. He had the most precious human being with him for five years and he took you for granted.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, it did. His mother decided to visit him that week to drop off some side dishes. She usually drops by every two months ever since Jaehyun moved out from the family house to stay in the apartment located near the university campus.

"You look terrible,” Jaehyun's mother said as soon as she arrives in his apartment. She fixed Jaehyun's hair a bit and patted his head. “Thanks, mum. Really needed that,” Jaehyun replied in sarcasm as he raised a brow to look at his mother.

“I brought your favourite side dishes and I packed more for y/n too this time. You told me she really liked it last time, remember?” Jaehyun lightly nodded as she placed some of the side dishes in Jaehyun’s fridge and put aside the ones she brought for you.

His heart broke when he heard that because he hasn’t told his mother yet about the two of you. He knows how much she loves you and was hoping for the two of you to get married right after graduation. So, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the situation right now.

"Since I’m here, I should go drop by y/n's place too. Let’s go together, Jaehyun. Help me carry all these side dishes. They’re so heavy! I hope y/n enjoys them."

“Umm mum-" He bit his lip and felt genuinely scared. What if you were as broken as him? He couldn’t bear seeing you like that. His mother looked at him with a questioning look, “What?”

He blinked and lightly shook his head, “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but he was curious and wanted to see how you were doing. What if the smiles you had on campus were all just a show? How well were you actually coping with the breakup? Were you eating all your meals?

Jaehyun just wanted to see you.

Jaehyun led his mother to your apartment while carrying all the side dishes she has packed for you. She rang the doorbell, "Y/n, are you at home?"

Jaehyun unconsciously started biting his lower lips harder than usual that it turned so red. I’m finally seeing her after so long. He thought.

Not long after, you replied, “Yes, I am!”

You opened the door and bowed to Jaehyun’s mother politely, greeting her after so long of not seeing each other. Surprisingly, you didn’t look shocked or caught off guard even when you saw Jaehyun standing behind his mother. Instead, he was the one looking shocked with widened eyes. He looked like a lost puppy with sad eyes staring at you.

How much you’ve missed that man standing right there.

You just wanted to throw your arms around him and hug him tightly. You wanted to kiss his cheeks, lips, nose forehead, but you couldn’t. Instead, pushed your feelings aside and focused on his mother instead.

“How have you been, Mrs Jung?” you asked as you led her to the living room. She took a seat on the sofa and softly smiled while looking at you.

"I’ve been well as always. You look extra beautiful today, y/n. I can tell you’ve been well too,” she caressed your hands and patted them softly.

I’m not doing so well though. You thought, but you just smiled back at her in response.

“I brought some extra side dishes for you too this time. Jaehyun told me you really liked the jangjorim (soy braised beef) I made last time, so I packed more for you," she pointed at the containers that Jaehyun was placing on your kitchen counter and you thanked her.

You turned to Jaehyun, but he avoided your eyes. You knew that he probably has not told his mother yet about your breakup and you understood that. You knew Jaehyun didn’t want to disappoint his mother. So, you just went along with it. Although inside, you were hurting. Your heart hasn’t healed, and it was breaking more every second you glanced at Jaehyun. He looked so lost and unattended. You could feel tears brimming in your eyes but you tried holding it in.

Crying in front of his mother didn’t sound like a good idea.

"So, how's university and studies so far? Doing good?" Jaehyun’s mother asked as Jaehyun took a seat next to her after arranging the side dishes. You nodded in response, “Yeah we're graduating soon, so things are not that easy, but manageable, I guess. By the way, would you like some tea or coffee? I’ll make them for you.”

She shook her head, “It’s okay, I’m not staying that long but it’s good to hear that you’re doing well,” she cleared her throat and leaned closer to you, “Anyways, I hope you won’t get offended by what I’m about to ask.”

You blinked and slowly nodded, “S-sure.” Jaehyun sensed that something was coming. "Mum-"

Before he could even stop her, she has already thrown her question, "Are the two of you planning to get engaged as soon as you graduate?"

Silence filled the room and you could feel the tension rising.

Jaehyun groaned and ruffled his hair in frustration. “Mum, I told you to not talk about this.” She pouted, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just curious about you two. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my future daughter-in-law.”

You awkwardly smiled without answering. Suddenly you felt as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room because it was suffocating. Jaehyun saw from your eyes how you were hurting and it was so hard for the two of you to be in the same space right now. So, he mustered up his courage and spoke up.

"Mum, listen,” he hesitated and took a glance at you, “We- we broke up. We’re taking a break from each other and it’s all my fault."

Your eyes widened when Jaehyun suddenly said that. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

Jaehyun waited for his mother to be shocked and yell at him for being such a jerk to you. He was expecting his mother to scold you for breaking up with her son. He was ready to face the wrath of his mother and was already expecting the worse. But his mother did the exact opposite.

The atmosphere was unexpectedly calm. It was so calm that it made you feel more uncomfortable.

She calmly placed a hand on top of yours and caressed it gently. "Ah I didn’t know,” she paused, “I’m so sorry for being insensitive about it, y/n. I don’t know what the both of you went through, but I hope you’re doing fine,” she smiled warmly. Her presence was so warm you wanted to just jump into her arms and cry your heart out about how much you’ve been hurting as if she was really your own mother.

Tears filled your eyes to the brim and Jaehyun’s mother noticed that immediately. She knew that the longer they stayed in your apartment, the harder it was for you. She then stood up and took her purse, “We should get going now, Jaehyun. Enjoy the side dishes, yn! Stay healthy, okay?” She smiled at you so dearly and patted your cheeks gently for one last time.

Such motherly love.

You let the tears fall slowly down your cheeks as you greet them out of your apartment because you couldn’t hold them in any longer. Jaehyun saw your tears and his heart broke even more. That’s when he realised, you weren’t doing so well either.

Jaehyun sat across Yewon in a café because he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to clarify things so she wouldn’t have hopes of wanting to date him. He knew his heart only belonged to you.

“You broke up with y/n anyways, and I’m partly because of it. You were also wavered by me at that time,” Jaehyun frowned at Yewon’s words, because he knew it was true. However, Yewon wasn’t the girl he wanted to be with. It was true that he was wavered by her when they texted each other daily, but it meant nothing to him.

He sighed. Yewon bit her lower lip and glanced at Jaehyun. “We don’t have to date straight away because I know you just went through a sad breakup,” she paused, “But I will wait for you.”

“Yewon,” Jaehyun started, “Even if a long time has passed after I broke up with y/n and I can date anyone I want, it wouldn’t be you.”

Yewon’s brows furrowed and she looked devastated. “W-Why not?”

“You keep on reminding me of her, so how could I date you?”

She scoffed as she heard his words, “What does that even mean?” Jaehyun let out another sigh, “The only reason I talked to you was because you reminded me of the young y/n I met in high school. So pure and innocent, felt like I needed to protect her always. When you approached me for the first time, you gave off the same vibes as her and that was what made me continue talking to you. You were so similar to y/n.”

Yewon stared at him in disbelief, “What? I-,”

Before she even continued, Jaehyun cut her off, “Don’t be mistaken. It’s not that I can’t date you because there’s y/n in the middle, but the reason I even noticed you was because of y/n.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you weren’t really wavered by me, but only talked to me because I was similar to y/n?” She said sadly, as Jaehyun lightly nodded in response.

“I’m sorry. I’m know that I’m also at fault for giving you hope back then, and I want to apologise for that. That is not something someone with a girlfriend should be doing, and I messed up. But let me tell you something, even if I’ve broken up with y/n now, I don’t have any thoughts of dating you at all. Heck, I don’t want to be with anyone else other than y/n,” Jaehyun took another glance at Yewon and drank his coffee.

Yewon looked so defeated and embarrassed because she was mistaken all along. She thought she could have a chance with Jaehyun after the breakup but unfortunately her plan went downhill.

Days and weeks passed as the two of you tried distracting yourselves with the upcoming exams. The final step before graduating college. You knew you couldn’t delve in deeper into being sad because of the breakup because it was affecting you negatively. But at the same time, you also knew how unhealthy it was to dismiss your own feelings.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry when you’re down. Everyone has those days. It will get better.

You tried telling this to yourself everyday and it was one of the coping skills that you realised helped.

But it wasn’t easy.

Traces of each other were left in daily routines and you can’t stop thinking about each other.

Is it normal for every breakup to be like this?

When Jaehyun ate meals alone, he felt so lonely. He missed being in your company where you had lots to talk about. Your happy, cheerful smiles brightened up his days and now he couldn’t see them anymore. All you ever asked was his attention and that was the least he could have given you, but he failed.

He remembered how much of a jerk he had been during your last few dates before you broke up. How dare he streamed a soccer game when in front of him sitting was the most beautiful woman? Too late for regrets now.

When he went to wash up, he saw your pink toothbrush next to his and remembered the times when you were too lazy to freshen up that he had to carry you to the toilet and make brushing teeth more fun. Jaehyun laughed softly at the sweet memory. Now his days were dull. He didn’t sleep, spent all his nights studying for finals. Bed feels bigger now without you lying there with him. He even spread out all the pillows he had to feel enveloped and cope with the loneliness he was feeling.

The bed depicts so much of his heart right now, empty.

On the other hand, you weren’t doing so well either. On the outside, you looked like you were doing okay. But little did people know you were hurting every night too. When you opened your drawer, you saw some of his hoodies placed in there for him to wear whenever he sleeps over at your place, and now he doesn’t come over anymore. You felt hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you shut your eyes.

You missed him.

You missed his scent, his touch, his presence. You missed having meals with him, watching movies together, cuddling, kissing, and just… loving each other. Maybe you missed Jung Jaehyun. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted him back in your life. You never expected him to affect you so much.

It was soon graduation day and you made it. You still weren’t sure how you survived university, but you did. After going up stage for the certificate giving ceremony, you found yourself outdoors at the campus, staring into space.

A lot had happened throughout your journey in university and you couldn’t believe that you even got yourself a degree amid the chaos. You looked down at your degree certificate on your lap and chuckled to yourself at how ridiculous your situation was.

Staying up at night while burning the midnight oils were already so difficult, but adding a breakup on top of that? It was the worst. You swore that you almost gave up a few times, but you didn’t want to affect your future just because of the incident.

Jaehyun didn’t bother you anymore after the day his mother came to visit because he couldn’t bear seeing you heartbroken anymore. He’d always just look out for you from afar, making sure you’re safe. He didn’t want to bother you, so you can study in peace. He promised to himself that he would give you some space and look for you only after graduation.

Now there he was, on graduation day, looking for you after the ceremony ended. In his hands were his folded graduation robe and mortar board. He spotted you from afar and his gaze softened at the sight of you. You also had your robe folded next to you, while you held onto your certificate.

With a thumping heart and nervous palms, he slowly approached you. You noticed a figure coming towards you and looked up. Your eyes matched Jaehyun’s and you swear you could feel your heart bursting. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, and you forgot how it felt to get butterflies in your tummy. But your gaze turned sad when you were realised that you were not dating him anymore.

“Hey, can I sit here?” Jaehyun asked, signaling to the empty seat next to you. You nodded in response and moved to the side to give him more space.

He sat next to you, leaving a little gap in between in case you felt uncomfortable. “You look really pretty today,” he said, “I mean, you always do.”

“Thank you,” your heartbeat got faster at his simple words and you felt yourself turning red. The wind blew and you could smell his cologne that he usually has on him. The one you bought for him because you really liked the scent on him. You missed this scent so much that it felt so unfamiliar today. But it was nice.

“Congratulations on graduating. Your efforts paid off,” he flashed a sincere smile to you. You turned away immediately because you knew you couldn’t handle looking at him. You could cry any time now because of how much you missed him. But you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want to show him the side of you crying because you were the one who ended the relationship. You didn’t want to seem pathetic. “You too. Congratulations,” you whispered.

“How have you been?” he asked. You almost scoffed at his obnoxious question because he obviously knows you weren’t doing well after the breakup. “Good. You?” you said in short.

“Not really.”

You blinked and didn’t reply to his answer.

The breakup happened only a few weeks before graduation and the both of you were still broken because of it. You never really had a proper closure because both kept on running away from each other, avoiding the topic. It’s now finally time to sit alone and talk about it. Just the two of you, nobody else.

“Finals really took a toll on your life, huh?” you joked, trying to make the mood livelier. But you still avoided eye contact, and it just made the situation more awkward. “Yeah. That too,” he replied.

Silence.

Jaehyun sensed that you were avoiding his eyes, so he tried to change the topic.

“Remember when we graduated high school a few years ago?”

You nodded in response, “Yeah. What about it?”

Jaehyun slightly glanced at you and chuckled to himself, “Am I the only childish one who remembers what we said then?’ You raised your brows in confusion.

He replied, “I thought we could conquer the world then. I really thought graduating high school was everything,” he laughed, “But you made me promise to graduate university together too.”

You smiled softly at the fond memory of innocent high school kids graduating. Both of you ditched the rest of your friends to go on a jjajangmyeon (black bean noodles) date together. “Yeah and we made it. We graduated both high school and university,” you replied.

Jaehyun lightly nodded and continued after a few seconds of hesitation. “But I also made another promise.”

He searched for your eyes, and this time, you looked into his sad eyes to listen to what he has to say. “I promised you that I’d take care of you and that I’d never hurt you. Your trusted me with that, but I-,” he stopped and let out a sigh, “I couldn’t fulfil it. I made you think of me as someone who would never hurt you, but I did.”

You turned silent as you listened to him. You felt bad that he thinks this way about himself. You never asked him to be perfect, you just wanted his presence in your life.

“Y/n,” he called. “Hmm?”

“I don’t think I can let go of our five-year relationship just like this. Things were so good for the five years, and only a small part of it went bad. It’s all my fault and I’m really sorry for that.”

You bit your lower lips and fondled your fingers in nervousness. You didn’t know how to reply to Jaehyun and your heart wasn’t calming itself down any moment now. You turned to him and caught his eyes. They looked so fragile, he had tears in them that looked like they were ready to fall any time now.

“I was so caught up trying to do my best for you to a point where I lost myself in between that. It made me scared whenever I think of you finding someone better than me because I know I’m not worth your love. You deserve someone so much better than me, so I tried becoming better. I tried to improve but I found myself getting lost. I sought assurance from someone else to make myself feel better, but it didn’t,” you knew he was talking about Yewon, and you nodded lightly, signalling him to continue while you listen.

“I thought that maybe talking to you less would lessen the mistakes I make, but it ended up making things worse. I was lucky enough that you gave me another chance- heck, you gave me a lot of chances and I blew them all away,” he ruffled his hair in frustration, ruining the hair he had prepared for graduation. Your brows furrowed as you stared at his now messy hair. You wanted to reach out and fix it for him, but he continued talking.

“I love you so much, I don't think I can ever let you go, y/n. The thought of losing you completely because of how I broke your heart hurt me so much that it almost killed me. You can call me a jerk, you can curse the heck out of me, you can leave me now, but I just wanted to say that it will always be you. It has always been you. I can never see myself loving someone else other than you, y/n. And I'm so sorry for hurting you. I regret it so much. I’m- I’m really sorry.”

At the end of his words, Jaehyun was already sobbing. He covered his face with his hands and just kept on crying. Your heart broke at the sight and you felt yourself tearing up as well. You extended your hands and reached out to pat his back gently. “It’s okay,” you said, “It’s okay to let it all out, Jae.”

You wiped your own tears and sniffed silently. “I’m sorry too. I should have trusted you more and gave you a chance to properly explain yourself, but I didn’t. I went along with my anger and broke up with you.”

Jaehyun’s sobs got softer and he looked up to face you. His eyes and nose were red from all the crying, but you still thought he looked adorable.

You chuckled although you still had tears in your eyes, “Do you think we can fix this? Fix us?” You asked him and gave his hair a quick fix. Jaehyun’s eyes widened as you asked that. “Does that mean you’re giving me another chance?”

You softly nodded and smiled.

“That day, when you met up with Yewon at the café after our breakup, a friend of mine was there. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she heard what you said to her and told me. My friend said maybe it could help me be less angry towards you,” you chuckled, “And weirdly, it did.”

Jaehyun sighed in relief and a small smile started to appear on his face. “You told her that you talked to her because she reminded you of me?” he nodded in response to your question. “Then why didn’t you just talk to me? I was always there with you,” you asked.

Jaehyun nodded and slowly took your hands into his. Your hands were so cold because of the nervousness earlier, and the warmth from his felt so nice. As if his warm hands were made to hold yours in them. “I told you I feared making mistakes and hurting you. I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for you and I still want to.”

You furrowed your brows, “You’re perfect with all of your flaws, Jaehyun. I thought I’ve always told you that. I love you as you are, and I don’t need you to change any bit of it. I love you, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun felt his heart beat fast when he heard that. He held your hands tighter and looked you in the eyes softly. “I love you too, y/n.”

You teared up again and slowly wrapped your arms around Jaehyun to give him a big, tight hug. A hug you’ve been wanting to give him since forever and today you finally had the chance to. Jaehyun returned the hug and wrapped his arms tightly around you too. He whispered, “I’ll never let you go again.”

“Let’s go get jjajangmyeon, just like the old days?” Jaehyun asked when you released the hug, “Anywhere with you sounds great,” you smiled and caressed his cheeks. Jaehyun leaned in and gave you a peck on the lips. Your brows raised and he shrugged.

“Couldn’t help it. My girl looks amazing today.”

The both of you stared at each other for some time and laughed. You went through so much together and now, you were happy you got back with Jaehyun. Jaehyun was also elated because he finally got bac together with the love of his life. “No one else, only you y/n.”

To happier days ahead.

It’s never too late.

masterlist

Tell me what you think of this piece! Your comments give me lots of strength and motivation to write more and improve. I hope all of you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your support! I really appreciate it.

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my-emotional-self · 4 years ago

Text

Toxic Love Chapter 16

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing. But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares, panic attacks

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story! I apologize in advance!

“Do you have your taser?” Steve and Bucky said collectively as you gathered your purse in your arms and slipped on your shoes.

“Oh my god,” you giggled your response. “Yes, I do.”

It was the day after your surprise birthday party and since you were now going to be heading to St. Lucia tomorrow, you realized you didn’t have much clothing for any kind of tropical place. Darcy had quickly agreed to go shopping with you and that’s why you were leaving the tower.

In the last month you barely left the tower. Not that you felt imprisoned at all. No. It was that you were comfortable. Now that everything was out in the open with Steve and Bucky, you didn’t feel the need to leave the tower much. The last time you left was for your appointment with Dr. Wang and both Steve and Bucky took you there.

They were the ones who normally liked to go with you out of the tower, but since they would be on vacation with you for a whole week, they needed to get some last minute things done for any upcoming missions. So, it would be you and Darcy and you were really excited to spend some time with her.

“Be safe and be good,” Steve said as he gave you a chaste kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, nodding your head.

“I don’t want to get a call that you are in jail,” Bucky joked as he kissed you next.

“It’s only going to be me and Darcy going shopping and out to brunch,” you replied, folding your arms in front of your chest.

“That’s what we’re worried about,” came Steve’s smart ass remark.

~~~

“How many swimsuits do you own?” Darcy asked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk where all the good shopping was. Clint had dropped you two off seeing as neither Steve nor Bucky wanted you two walking that far and you had agreed to stay within a certain radius of where the shopping and dining was. Especially after they found out that John or John’s friends had been sending you threatening letters and messages. But what you didn’t know, was that the bracelet that Steve and Bucky got you for your birthday, also had a tracker in it. They planned on telling you while on vacation, but it brought them a piece of mind and set them at ease while you weren’t with them.

“Umm, I honestly don’t think I even own one,” you remarked.

“Shut the front door. How do you not even own one swimsuit?”

You gave her a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t really have any time or anywhere to go swimming recently. Before meeting Steve and Bucky, I never really got out to do much at all.”

Darcy linked her arm with yours and smiled at you. “Well, I’m glad I’ve met you because now I get some more girl time. With Nat being away on missions more often than Clint, I get stuck with him a lot.”

“Oh come on. You love him and you know it,” you teased back.

She sighed, “I do. I really do. But he is obsessed with going into the vents at the tower and he always wants me to go. He doesn’t realize that I have boobs and a butt that most certainly won’t fit in those vents.”

The two broke out into laughter and you loved how easy it was being around your friend. You didn’t have many friends growing up. With your parents mental health issues, you didn’t want to bring anyone over to the house and when you were invited over for a sleep over or to hang out somewhere else, you always said no because you felt like you had to keep an eye on your parents.

“Oooh, get this one!” Darcy put the slinkiest red bikini in your hands and your eyes grew wide at how little fabric there was.

“Darcy, there is literally nothing to this bikini,” you whispered to her, heat flooding your cheeks at the thought of wearing something like this at the beach.

“That’s the point! You’re on vacation with two of the hottest men in the world whom, by the way, you have wrapped around your finger. And plus, Tony’s place has its own private beach meaning no one else but you three get access to it,” Darcy spoke as she continued to look at more bathing suits. She did have a good point, but you would still feel utterly exposed in something like this. “And we’ll just get you a few more suits for when you want to go to the public beaches.”

“How many suits do you think I should get?”

“Uhh, at least seven. You’re going to be there for a whole week so you need to have one for each day.”

While you had more than enough money in your bank account, you realized Darcy had a major shopping problem and she was to help you drain it dry. At least she offered to buy you lunch today.

The two of you shopped for a few more hours. The sun was shining high in the sky and it felt so good to get fresh air and spend some girl time with Darcy. She helped you pick out a bunch of new clothes including some light weight dresses as she thought all your clothing was too dark and heavy for some place tropical, swim suit cover ups and her personal favorite, lingerie. You didn’t own anything more than a few matching pairs of bras and underwear and they weren’t even lace. Darcy was an expert at lingerie, stating both Natasha and Clint loved seeing her in it.

While you had spent a bit more than you wanted to, you knew it was for something good. Spending an entire week with your two soulmates on a tropical island for a vacation sounded heavenly and you couldn’t wait for it to be tomorrow already. Never in your life had you gone on vacation, let alone a vacation that is fully paid for.

After lunch, the two of you went to Target to pick up some last minute essentials and a few travel sized items. Darcy explained that Tony would have everything covered at the beach house but you just wanted to be on the safe side.

Once done, Darcy called Clint to pick you two up and you headed back to the tower. Your feet were killing you, even though you wore your comfiest pair of shoes. It was a long day on your feet and you couldn’t wait to get this vacation started.

“Honey I’m home,” you sand as the elevator doors opened to your apartment.

Neither Steve nor Bucky were in the living room or kitchen as you walked into the apartment. There was however a note sitting on the kitchen counter for you.

Y/N,

We hope you had fun shopping with Darcy today and we can’t wait to spend the next week with you in paradise. We had a few errands of our own to run and will be back in time for dinner.

Xoxo

Steve and Bucky

While they could have easily sent you a text telling you they would be out for a little bit, you couldn’t help but smile at how old fashioned they were. Honestly, you loved the notes they had left around the apartment for you to find. Sometimes on your pillow when you woke up, or a sticky note attached to your mirror in the bathroom. It was little sentiments like that, that made your heart swell with pride knowing they were all yours.

With your numerous bags in hand, you headed to your bedroom so you can begin packing for your week in paradise.

Dumping your purse and bags on your large bed, you went into the closet and you pulled out the suitcase that Darcy lent you. Hauling the suitcase onto your bed with a grunt, you opened it and admired just how much space there was in the suitcase. At least you didn’t have to pay extra for the large suitcase since you were taking Tony’s private jet.

Just thing, your phone alerted you to a text message. Rummaging it out of your purse, you turned your phone on. The smile instantly wiped from your face. Your blood running cold as you started at the words.

I’ll be seeing you soon babe. I can’t wait to get my hands on your precious body. –J

Your heart began to race. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Miss Y/N,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoed faintly in the room. Your vision started to get blurry and you didn’t know if that was from the tears or if you were having a panic attack. “I am calling Captain Rogers right now.”

Your knees buckled from under you as you reached onto the bed to somewhat break your fall. This couldn’t be happening. How did he get your number? He knew where you used to live, but you had changed your number and made sure to not give it out to anyone. How could he possibly have gotten your phone number? Your breathing was ragged and you were beginning to gasp for air. If he had your phone number, that meant he was closer than ever to you. Closer to finding you. But he was still in prison, he was still locked up. Right?

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s voice came over the speakers. “What’s going on? F.R.I.D.A.Y said your heartbeat is skyrocketing.”

“He-he, John,” you couldn’t get the words out as you were gasping for air.

“Breathe doll,” now it was Bucky’s voice you were hearing. “Just breathe. We are in the elevator right now coming to you but you have to breathe.”

You tried. Fuck did you try to breathe but it was so hard. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. It hurt. You hurt. Your vision began to go dark as you faintly heard your name being called over and over again.

Slumping down on the ground, you thought this was it. This was how you were going to die. Alone. Terrified. This isn’t how you wanted to die. You wanted to die old and wrinkly with Steve and Bucky by your side, not like this.

Before you could full go unconscious, you felt yourself being picked up in strong arms. Your vision slowly coming back and you realized you were on your bed, sitting down with your back against something hard and firm, yet soft at the same time.

“Y/N? Sweetheart can you hear me?” Steve’s worried voice consumed your mind as you slowly began to blink, seeing him kneeling in front of you on the bed. It was then that you realized you were laying against Bucky, his metal arm around your front and holding your chest tightly to him. “Good girl. There’s our girl. Now I need you to breathe. Feel Bucky breathing behind you. Match his breathing sweet girl.”

You took a few gasping breaths and you could feel Bucky’s heartbeat against your back. Doing as best you could, you could begin to feel your heartbeat starting to regulate. Reaching up, you placed your hand over Bucky’s metal arm, wanting to keep anchored to him.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, what happened?” Steve’s voice was calm and collected now as he watched you start to finally relax, eyes closed.

“It appears Miss Y/N had a massive panic attack,” the A.I responded.

You could hear Steve take a deep sigh and you opened your eyes, finding his blue orbs staring back at you. “What brought this one sweetheart?”

Instantly your chin began to quiver. “Wh-where’s my pho-phone?” you choked out?

Steve looked around the floor for your phone as you Bucky kept you anchored to him. You felt as if you were to move from your position you would fall apart.

Once Steve found your phone, he handed it to you. You didn’t want to look at it. You couldn’t. Instead, you shook your head and with the saddest voice, you told him to open it.

He looked between you and Bucky and then down to your phone in his hand. You didn’t have a password on it so Steve pressed the button on the side to light your phone up. He didn’t even need to swipe to open. He saw the text. It was right there, staring back at him. Steve’s hand gripped your phone so tight you were honestly shocked he didn’t break the phone in half.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #dark! steve rogers

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 2

You could feel the chill of the outside seeping into your space, your bones, through the vented window following your shower. The way it crept in made you realize just how far along through fall you were, maybe it was even approaching the onset of the holiday weather. Either way, a storm seemed to be outside. At least it felt like it. Once dried, you found yourself wrapping up tighter in the thick cardigan you’d chosen before you dried your hair, and allowed yourself a quick squirt of perfume before settled into the reading chair in the corner of your room, your journal on your lap.

The little, leather bound book had been in your handbag which had been given back to you earlier that morning as the latest reward for behaving and as you ran your hand over the deep brown cover, you couldn’t help the air of excitement you felt at having been given your treasured little note book, despite the dreary sky you could see from the porthole above your chair.

It had actually surprised you that Drysdale had kept it and not disposed of it the same way he had your phone and your car. But for whatever reason, he’d held onto it, and for that you were grateful. Grateful that you had something of your own from before this imprisonment to anchor too. You’d expected him to want some kind of favour in return but he hadn’t demanded any sort of sexual gratification, simply informed you he would be out most of the morning and would be back mid to late afternoon. As soon as he had gone you had eagerly tipped the contents of your bag onto the bed, almost crying at the sight of your half empty bottle of Coco-Mademoiselle, the Mac Lip-gloss, NYX Eyebrow pencil, Mont Blanc fountain pen, a full tube of mints and your treasured journal. With teary eyes you’d put everything away in its new place, apart from the book and pen before padding into the bathroom for a shower, deliberately sorting yourself out for the day. All you could think of was taking the time so you could savour the moment when you could hopefully make some sense of the jumble in your head by spilling it onto a page.

You opened the cover and flicked to your last entry, the morning of Halloween. A rambling rant about Mick-The-Prick filled the page and you paused, tears in your eyes, as you’d give anything to be stood in his office thinking about ingenious ways to kill him and get away with it. Ironic, really considering that was exactly what your captor had done; committed murder and gotten away with it.

You went to jot the date down in the corner of the page and realised that actually, you didn’t have a clue what it was. Down here, night bled into day, day bled into night…and soon it all bled into weeks. However, given the fact your cycle had been and gone a week ago you figured that it was maybe four weeks since Halloween. Of course, you could ask Hugh, but the less you had to ask him the better as far as you were concerned. You hate the fact that he had this hold on you, that you had to ask for and ‘earn’ things by being ‘good’. And whilst it made you sick to your stomach, you’d fast learnt it was easier to comply than rebel. The night he had left you tangled in your sweater had hurt. It had taken you a good twenty minutes to muster the strength to work your way out and drag yourself into a bath, your body shaking with the trauma, sobs wracking your frame. Your body ached for days, your mind in a post-traumatic cloud of despair. And whilst it hadn’t broken you per-say, it had certainly made you realise exactly what the bastard was capable of, and you had no intention of finding out just how much further he was willing to go.

So, in summary, it had taken Ransom Drysdale two days to break you into compliance.

You’d become passive, so to speak. You gave into his whims, let him use you as he saw fit, did as he told… for the most part anyway. There had been a few other incidents post the sweater one where you’d forgotten yourself and protested, fought a little and he’d gone hard on you, but nothing like that second night. Your passive behaviour was mistaken by him for compliance, and as such you had earned a number of rewards. The bistro table where you took your meals, a book or two which just so happened to be by his grandfather, a gesture you weren't sure was him purging or pressing an agenda onto you. And more recently and most preciously, your bag. But, the strange thing was, that whilst he wanted you to give into him physically, he seemed to enjoy the fact that you were in no way, shape or form compliant to him in others. You openly sassed him, bit back, called him out and he actively encouraged it. He’d started spending a little more time with you in the mornings and afternoons, not just visiting you to toy with you or fuck, but to engage in these little tete-a-tete’s, and the sickest, most perverted thing about it was that you were almost glad. The loneliness was crippling, and you craved company. Even if it was his.

All things considered, you’d rather ask him for as little as possible so instead, you flicked to the front of the book and crossed off the days on the small calendar inside the cover. Deciding that the date it led you to was as accurate as it was going to get, you turned back, jotted it down in the top right of your page and stared at the blank lines, looking to sort your thoughts for your next entry.

The saying used to go, what's in a name, however as I sit here thinking back on the last few weeks I wonder now what's in a day. My days consist of imprisonment. Held by a captor I have met once before. He's smart, almost too smart. Displaying forms of abuse and aggressive behaviors any FBI analyst would love to dive deep into. But that's not my job, no, my job is to please and satisfy him. Answer to his whims of gratification at any call of the day. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. But if I behave, he lets few things get by. I miss home, my bed, my life. I miss Mick, which is saying a lot all things considered. I don't know still what he wants from me, other than the obvious sexual gratification with little to no room for anything else. I'm a toy, a means to an itch. I don't know how long exactly I've been here, I can only guess it's been about a month. Nor do I know how long I'll have to stay. The answers are blurred like my vision, marred by tears and the low light inside. I haven't seen outside since the day he took me. I haven't been anywhere outside this room. I can see from the small porthole window above this stupidly soft leather chair the season has changed. It feels like deep fall, and as a storm comes outside, what little sky I see is bleak and dark, clouds covering the bluest of skies, angry and ready to open up, raining down water to wash away the sins of the day. I wish I could do the same.

Before you realized, time had obviously passed, for the sound of the door bolts unlocking had you guessing it was late afternoon or early evening. A glance up at the porthole behind you confirmed as much. The sky was dark and rain had been beating on the window for a little while.

In came Drysdale, hair a bit wet, a strand slightly out of place, wool pants and maroon sweater. He carried a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He looked irked, like he'd wasted time on something, a look you were now able to decipher after weeks of seeing it.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he said, setting the plate down on the bistro table with its two accompanying chairs, waiting for you to join him.

Instead of biting back, you simply whispered, "it’s Thanksgiving?" You checked the inside cover of your journal and see the date again. You were a day off and it now dawned on you. It was the fourth Thursday of the month and indeed, Thanksgiving. You glanced back up at Ransom and a deep sadness washed over you. Closing your journal and setting it on the table by your chair, you stood, moving towards him and the plate of food. You took a seat and looked down at the plate, full of the holiday dish basics; turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, diced not candied yams and roasted green beans. It was gourmet and nothing near what he'd been serving you or managing to try. "Thank you," you said softly, rolling your fork through the potatoes. You take a bite but it's about as bland and tasteless as your despair.

"I brought it back from the country club, I met my father there," he looked under your gaze again, as if willing your eyes to his. "Do you not like it?"

Finally, your gaze met those cold cerulean orbs, setting your fork down and you took a drink of water, "No, it's fine." Then you picked up your fork again and took another bite, this time of the turkey and gravy. You didn't have it in you for an argument or it's physical ramifications.

"Are you not hungry?" Ransom pressed.

"I guess not as much as I thought," you repled further poking at your food, your voice cracking a little as you try to keep your composure. The sting of the holiday has you broken, far more than you'd expected. Normally, today you'd be helping your mother in the kitchen, settling the final touches on the side dishes and listening to your father tell your uncle about some a-typical dad joke he'd heard. Your sister would be giddy over the wine while her boyfriend of the month received death glares from said uncle and your father.

Ransom outwardly sighed and you wait for what you were trying to avoid. "Are you alright?"

The question threw you off guard completely and you struggled to hide the shock from your expression. He never cared about your feelings before. Maybe he thought you were coming down with something. You braced yourself to answer honestly. There was no point in lying, he'd see through it.

"I'm fine, I'm not sick if that's what you're thinking," you answered, a deep restraint on your tone to keep yourself in check. "I hadn't realized what day it was. I didn't know it was Thanksgiving." You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked hard. "My mom, my sister and I, we used to all help make dinner as a family. My dad and uncle would talk a bunch of shit around the fireplace while shooting death glares at my sister's flavor of the month."

He looked at you like he was confused. You scoff, "Of course you wouldn't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He squint his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. His body language completely changed as he leaned forward on his forearms, popping one shoulder up higher than the other.

"Nothing," you backed down immediately.

"Tell me," he pressed.

God, he was relentless. You pushed your plate forward and leaned on your own elbows. You looked at him with a raised brow, "am I going to be in trouble if you don't like what I have to say?"

"Depends," he popped a shoulder smugly.

You matched his expression and his demeanour falters just a fraction. You saw it, but you didn't hold back. "Then I'd rather keep it to myself. That's what you want isnt it? Me to comply, be obedient? Frankly, I'm not in the mood."

He failed to hide his smirk and you noticed that too, "Sweetheart." It wasn't laced with teasing, rather his pet name for you on his tongue held a cautious venom.

"You hate your family. You know nothing about love and what it takes to give love. Hell, I don't doubt that for a minute you've ever felt loved. It's all an act. Self-preservation even. I don't know you or your family outside of the hours of research I did and the mere forty five minutes I listened to you drone on about your 'predicament'. But, the cold hearted truth of it is, you don't know how to love." You watched him run his tongue along his teeth as he continued to glare at you, but you weren't finished. "And that's what family is, it's what they do. They love, they are the embodiment of love at its deepest root. Maybe, just maybe somewhere along your life, your parents loved you, but judging by the Thrombey-Drysdale standards, none of you know what love is outside your selfish tithings and flashy cars. It got lost along the way, more than likely long before you ever were born."

"Wow," he raised his brows and clicked his tongue against his teeth, "That's good, that's really good."

You're fear receptors suddenly spiked as recognizable flash of anger in his eyes flashed through his irises. But there was something else there that you couldn't put your finger on it. Your breathing quickly up-ticked as you felt your palms begin to sweat.

He inhaled a deep, almost centering breath, "that perfume in your bag, I like it."

As if he'd grown a second head, you blinked hard refocusing on him. Had you heard him right? You'd just broken a rule, laid out an unspeakable truth for him and now in a blink he's, God forbid, complimenting your scent? Who the fuck was this guy? Was he on meds? Because he should be or he should at least probably share. It might make life here more bearable. "What?"

"The perfume from your bag, you're wearing it. It smells good," he lamented.

Alright, now the 'of sound mind' argument might be worth something because he sure as shit wasn't now. You swallowed and picked up your fork, taking a bite of the cold food just to buy yourself some time as you tried to process the scene before you. You had no remark to make. Confusing jumbled any thought of a coherent word you could utter.

"Maybe if I'm out, I can pick you up a new bottle. I noticed you were near empty," Ransom offered.

This was starting to make your stomach turn. If he'd gone through your bag, because why wouldn't he at this point, smelled your perfume, had he read your journal? You made a mental note to go back through and see if there was anything he'd read that he had used against you thus far or could use to corner you in the future. You looked around the room, waiting to see if you were being Punk'd. Just who the fuck is this guy? Without your expression giving too much of your confusion away, you nod at him in reply. "Thank you, I'd like that."

"Hmph," he paused, a dramatic effect he seemed to know that your heart rate up in anxiety. "Well, then why are you looking at me like I have two heads, Y/N?"

Tread lightly, you thought to yourself. He didn't call you by your first name often, in fact, the last time he had, you were very much smarting back and it resulted in a forceful situation that left you raw and sore for a few days. It was always 'Sweetheart'.

He baited you, you knew it, but you couldn't back out now. So you sighed, "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but, I don't even know who you are right now. Do you? One minute you're giving me food and being gentle, the next you're allowing my opinion, and now you're ready to flip this table. That's as close as two heads as it gets."

"Careful, Sweetheart," he now glared at you. There it was, you were in for it. The approach of choice, you weren't sure of, but he was done. You'd learned the different tones in his voice by now, the cues he gave. You were definitely in trouble. You dropped your eyes to your plate. The food stone cold and no longer even appealing in its slightest measure, a wave of nausea washing over you. You further pushed your plate away, "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."

His broad frame rose from the chair, "you weren't to begin with," his left hand reaching for the plate and holds it in his hand, "Third drawer down in the armoire. Pick something, I'll be back."

You watched him leave, the familiar click of the door shutting and snap of the lock sounded around the small apartment and you exhaled loudly, your head dropping into your hands. This wasn’t the first time he’d requested that you ‘dress for the occasion’ so to speak. With a deep breath you stood up and crossed the room, opening the drawer of requirements, seeking out a negligee for him to no doubt remove. Your fingers roamed over the fabrics and selection. La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Carine Gilson, Coco de Mer and Fleur of England were just a handful of the expensive, high-end brands that filled the space. Your fingers smoothed over a black macrame and tule underwired long line bra and the matching thong that was folded neatly under it. Plucking it from the drawer, you headed for the bathroom. You slipped out of your casual tee, duster cardigan and leggings, the bra and panties you'd had on. You sighed as you took a good look at yourself in your naked form.

While you hadn't lost a ton of weight over the last month, you could tell you'd grown thinner. You weren't gaunt but your lack of a daily Dunkin' Donuts macchiato had seemed to thin you out. Your captor made sure you were fed, but you didn't always eat. The plump of your cheeks had receded and your little pooch brought on by happy carbs was sucked into your frame. There were a few bruises still seen, near green, an indication of their final healing stage. The pock mark from a hickey he'd given you still a bit scaby as he'd broken the skin just barely. This was your life now and it made what few bites of Thanksgiving dinner in your stomach nearly lurch forward back up your throat.

You swallowed it down, pulling the long line bra straps up your arms and clasping it behind your back. Your legs slipped into the thong panties and you pulled the material up your freshly smooth legs. Your shaky fingers plucked at the hair tie that fastened the end of your brain closed, nails raking through your hair to loosen your tendrils. He always wanted your hair loose. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you were ready.

***** Ransom tossed the un-eaten food into the garbage and dumped the plate into the sink to be dealt with later. Turning so that his lower back was leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter he ran a hand over his clean shaven jaw, his mind ticking over the events of the day so far. A pain-in-the-ass Thanksgiving meal with his father had been made bearable by the fact he knew he was coming back to her, and because he hadn’t wanted to be a complete monster he’d made the effort of bringing her a nice dinner back too. But she’d hardly touched any of it.

And what disturbed him most about it, was the fact that instead of wanting to punish her for being an ungrateful bitch, he instead felt a deep rooted sense of concern. She’d lost weight, her face was pale, her hip bones more pronounced, and frankly the last thing he wanted was her passing out on him. Whilst he wanted her compliant, necrophilia really wasn’t his bag.

He had thought by giving her back the bag she’d had on her the night he took her he might have seen a lift in her spirits so to speak, a little gratitude, but instead she’d been meek and reserved until he’d coaxed that familiar sass out of her. And even then she’d been reticent.

It should have pleased him that she was learning her place and becoming more subservient. But if he was being honest with himself, he almost missed her fighting and arguing back. It had been exciting in a way, and he had thought it would have taken longer than it had to break her so to speak. Maybe he had overestimated exactly what a fighter she was, maybe she wasn’t the right muse for his writing after all. Because, let’s face it, writing a tale about a woman who was captured and broken into submission within two days, merely becoming a puppet for her captor’s whims was hardly going to win him any accolades was it? He needed more, needed something that he could spin a good story from. He knew now that when he went back down to her he had to try a different tact so to speak, he needed to coax her mind into reacting not merely her body.

Because if he couldn’t do that, there was no point in keeping her.

He allowed her half an hour or so before he headed back down the stairs and found her sat on the bed, dressed in one of the sets he’d purchased, her hair loose round her face and shoulders the way he liked. She jumped to her feet and he had to actively supress the groan that was rolling in his throat as his eyes scanned her up and down, and he didn’t miss the slight bruises that dotted her skin in various places where he’d marked her as his own. She’d long since stopped trying to cover herself up. Instead she stood stock still, her eyes focussed on the floor.

With long strides he walked into the room and stopped in front of her, tipping her chin up with his finger so she was looking at him, her eyes wide with trepidation and he gave a smirk as he reached up, brushing her hair off the side of her face and neck, dropping his head as he did so.

“You smell so good, Sweetheart.” He inhaled against her pulse point, lips pressing into her there. He felt the gasp of her breath, the way her skin pricked with chill bumps. He smirked to himself, he’s found her spot. And he filed that away, committing it to memory.

“I like this…” he practically purred as he toyed with the straps to the bra, a long, thick middle finger outlining the strap against her skin, lips following pursuit.

“You should, you chose it.”

He chuckled, ignoring the snark behind her words. “Like I chose you, huh?”

Like I chose you.

His words echoed around your head, reminding you exactly why you were in this fucking situation. Because he had decided you would be. He wanted you, and just like with everything else in his life that Hugh Ransom Drysdale wanted, he simply took. But what worried you the most about all this was whether or not you would be discarded the same way he no doubt discarded the other possessions he lost interest in.

You took a deep, steadying breath as his hands moved from the straps of your bra, long fingers moving to caress the back of your neck, but there was no grabbing, no force. He was being positively gentle.

And it scared the crap out of you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, his breath hot and wet in your ear as you trembled under the further graze of his fingers against the macramé of your set.

“You know I am," you swallowed nervously. You weren't new to this, this wasn't your first time, but the way he was being soft, a stark character change to his a-typical stance with you was what had you crawling in fear in the inside. Was it a game? Was it some sort of ploy? Was this his idea of foreplay now before he turned it up and went hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to make you cry?

A flat palm ran down your abdomen, already taught in fear. But not before a thumb grazed along the underside of your breast. Agonizingly slow, his hand, still splayed over you, dips into your matching macrame panties, dipping into your wet folds, thumb lightly pressing against your clit.

“You’re so wet, considering you’re scared.”

You didn't answer, just swallowed hard, the lump stuck in your throat as it fought against a little whimper.

His mouth once more latched onto your neck, the kisses gentle as opposed to the bruising ones you had become accustomed to. The fingers in your folds matched his slow nature, teasing you in such a way that when you closed your eyes and focussed your mind elsewhere, you could almost believe you were somewhere with a man you’d given permission to touch you in such away. But when his lips moved to your jawline and you took a deep breath, the heady scent of his cologne hit your senses and your eyes flew open as you were reminded just whose lips and hands were violating you in such away.

You swallowed as Ransom pulled away, his hand gently grasping your chin once more as he issued a simple instruction.

“Strip for me, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile that had once more risen up your throat as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs bent, hands resting on his knees as he watched you the way a lion watched its prey. You undid the clasp on your bra, your eyes remaining locked on his as you slid the straps down your shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. Your captor took a deep breath, his eyes flicking down your body as you moved to shed the bottom half, wondering what on earth had been the point of wearing it in the first place. But even as you asked yourself that, you already knew the answer. It was a bout power, another way for him to remind you just who you belonged to now. How he could strip you bare in more way than one without even lifting a finger.

But lift a finger he did, curling it in mid-air as he beckoned you towards him. You took careful steps over the floor until you were stood in between his legs. His large hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs, before he pulled you towards him, his nose brushing the skin of your abdomen as he took a deep breath, fingers curling round your thighs.

And then, in a flash he stood, taking you with him, and before you could so much as utter a squeak or noise of surprise he had you naked, laying across the bed, the sheets cold against your skin, a contrast to the heat emanating from the body against yours. The look in his lust blown eyes was overwhelming. You didn't know what you were in for but as his body, still clothed in the frayed maroon sweater and wool slacks sunk into the mattress between your legs, you felt a chill course through your veins, your skin, again, pricking in bumps all over. His hands, with their thick fingers, trailed long lines up and down your thighs, Ransom's full lips kissing at your sensitive inner skin, a nip or two here and there as he went from your knee, upward.

He could smell your arousal, see it glistening as it dripped from your core. "Someone's ready," he quipped. He watched you swallow hard, a literal lump in your throat bobbing the skin. Your eyes never left him. "No cumming until I tell you. Do you understand?" When you didn't answer immediately, he swiped his tongue over your wet lips, tasting the honey your body gave him, your back arching away from sheets. "Do you understand?"

And there it was, your punishment finally arriving from your little moment before over dinner. As you still had your wits about you, you uttered a single word response, in the hope that the more submissive you were, the more accepting you were of your chastisement, the less hard on you he was going to be.

"Yes."

His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, the lavish holiday meal he'd partaken in not filling enough. His thumb pressed against your engorged nub, causing you to writhe but a firm arm over your abdomen kept you in place. The same thick fingers that traced lines up your thighs, two were now buried deep inside you, his tongue working away any juices that seeped out. As he gave you a third, stretching you more, you felt your walls start to tighten, that burning coil in your belly flare and your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Ransom could clearly feel you flutter against his fingers as he stopped his assault and looked up at you.

"What did I say?"

Your chest heaved, your stomach taught and you fought to obey. When you managed to calm yourself, he began again, almost from square one, slowly, tantalizingly slow.

The action was torture and you were desperately willing yourself to remain grounded as again your body fought to ride over the edge building inside you. When his mouth was over you completely, tongue deep, thumb pressing again into your clit, you felt the urge to cum. But he pulled away, slowly, his thumb stopping the pressure, his tongue slowly dragging out of you.

"I said no. This is your punishment for your smart mouth over dinner."

"Please, I need to, I'll... I'll make it worth your while, please just let me." Your voice sounded alien as you spoke, the words leaving your mouth in the desperate hope he’d take pity on you but to no avail. Your attempts at bartering served only to frustrate him, anger him even and he Ransom backed away, roughly pulling you to the edge of the bed before stripping out of his sweater and undershirt, the undeniable outline of his hard cock along his thigh strained against his wool slacks.

Harsh in his grip, he repositioned himself between your legs, your thighs across his shoulders, ass dangling above the floor as a heavy arm kept you still. His flat tongue, hot and full of your sex was eating away at you while his final throws of resolve ate away at him.

“I’m done playing fucking games.” he growled against your aching cunt “I should have gagged you, stuffed my cock deep into the back of your throat, something, anything to shut you up.”

You barely had time to register his words before once more you were flat out against the mattress, trying to regain your breath and calm yourself down when he backed away, tore open his flies and smirked down at you.

"Oh no, Sweetheart, we're not done yet." He kneeled beside you, his chest heaving, hair completely out of place, anger and wait, was that pain, flickering in his eyes as he stuffed you with a hard thrust of his length. "Now you’re gonna cum on this dick."

He thrusted hard and within a few slams of his hips against yours, he allowed you the release you were begging for, "that's right, Princess, cum on my cock."

You wept at the feeling finally freeing you, cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as you squeezed around him. Your chest heaving against his, skin to skin. The fabric of his wool pants hot and itchy against your inner thighs. He was still thrusting but now it had slowed to a roll, slow and calculated. Your muddled mind was buzzing and rapidly trying to sort out if he'd cum inside you or if he wasn't finished. His features were softer, but still filled with purpose and his lips latched onto a naked breast causing your body to react, tingles and flames licking at your core again. His eyes looked up at yours as he caged you in, still buried deep inside you, hips rolling.

"I said we weren't done," he rasped. His thrusts and rolls, the two very different tactics mixing now, made the swell of his cock inside you abhorrently pleasurable. Try as you might, it was impossible to feel otherwise.

And Ransom was finding it equally as hard to hold on. His weight was evenly distributed over her, his cock swelling inside her heat. It took all he had not to blow his load the first time he made her cum, hearing the sinful sounds of her orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption around his hard shaft. But now he could feel her again, tiny little pulses around his already overtly sensitive dick. He was sure his precum was leaking out, wanting to paint the way for the rest of him to follow. He rolled and thrust as his lips nipped at her neck. She moaned loudly, her body exuding lust. He could feel her shake beneath him and to his delight and surprise her eyes were no longer screwed shut and turned away. Instead they were locked on his. The moment those deep hued orbs met his, he felt a hitch in his breath and tightness in his chest that travelled through his belly and into his cock, causing the thick member to throb inside her. Tiny, soft hands gripped at his biceps, her touch a fiery scald against his skin, almost as if it were frost bite. Her touch equally shocking as her stare and he gave a roll of his hips to hide what he felt. A deep, satiated roll of his hips that sent her over the edge.

"Hugh!" She came around him, harder than her first, crying out his given name. It snapped him from his moment of revelation, driving him insanely frustrated at the word leaving her lips. He slammed into her as she rode out her orgasm, chasing his own.

You felt the dismissal of his body as he violently pulled free from your walls, spewing his hot seed over your abdomen, drops claiming your tits too. He nearly collapsed, his dick in hand, the other holding himself up against the mattress between your legs.

He left you there, dirty, degraded and shut the door with a barked instruction for you to clean yourself up. You no longer cried in front of him, either before, during or after. There was no point. He didn’t care about how you felt, but the thing he DID seem to care about was the fact that you still refused to call him Ransom.

It was the one thing you held on to, the only thing that gave you an inch of control in this entire fucked up situation. You hadn’t missed the look on his face when you’d cried out 'Hugh' in the throes of your last orgasm. Before that moment there had been a softness in his eyes, one that had unnerved you no end, along with something that had looked suspiciously like hope. But when his given name had tumbled involuntarily from your mouth and not the one he preferred that softness had turned to contempt and you didn't miss the undercurrent of disappointment either.

And seeing that, knowing that it pissed him off and dare you say it, upset him so much was your single, albeit feeble, act of rebellion that served as a desperate boost to your ever waning inner strength. *****

Ransom laid in his large, plush bed, hands behind his head as the silk sheets pooled at his waist as morning was in full swing outside. His thoughts strayed to his girl in the basement and he took a deep breath, shifting slightly as he remembered the way her fingers had felt as they’d curled around his biceps, her touch firey but cold. That had been the first time she’d touched him when she wasn’t trying to push him away, it had been involuntary, he knew that, a reaction to the way she’d been feeling, the way he had made her feel.

A twitch resounded deep in his belly....the way he made her feel.

He realised now that he’d been going about this the entirely wrong way. The force had been necessary to make her comply at first, but last night she hadn’t just complied she’d participated, just what he had wanted all along. And all after he’d shown her a little leeway, brought her dinner, entertained her talk. He understood now that he needed to play a different card from his hand. She responded better to conversation, talking. Ransom hated fucking talking, he was more cerebral, calculating. Conversation means connecting, and connecting was something he wasn’t particularly interested in normally. He needed to lead, to be in charge, but it was clearly what she knew and thrived on, so he had to swallow his apprehension down to play the long game, to get what he wanted.

Now he understood that, it was going to be so fucking easy. All he had to do was to seemingly show her compassion, a little give so he could take so to speak. He rolled his head, cracking his neck as he remembered what she said about cooking with her mom so he decided that after her stellar performance last night, today she’d earned a bigger reward than a book or some journal. He was going to show her what she could have if she just gave in and admitted what he knew she truly wanted. A large house, a garden, a pool, a hot tub, silk sheets, a large bed, and a man to fuck her every way to heaven and back. He could give her everything that any woman could possibly desire, and then some.

With a twitch of a smirk across his lips, Ransom pulled his naked frame out of bed and slipped into joggers, a soft waffle knit thermal long sleeve pulled over his tousled hair. He felt like company for breakfast and he knew exactly to invite up.

His bare feet padded with purpose over the plush carpet of his room, down the stairs and onto the first floor, over the hard wood and marble tile of the halls and entry, down the plush carpeted spiral staircase down to the basement.

He reached the door and gently turned the locks, quietly pushing the door open as he turned the knob. It opened quietly and his eyes fell upon the empty bed. He frowned slightly, wondering where she was. Then his eyes found her, sitting curled up with her eyes cast upward, that little tease of a porthole window in her focus. She'd turned her chair around so she could see it more clearly, the throw blanket he'd tossed at her the week before was wrapped around her body. He didn't know the time, but it wasn't early nor was it afternoon. Not that it mattered, neither had anywhere else to be.

"Good morning," he said lowly. He watched as her eyes slowly moved away from the only bit of outside world she'd seen for weeks now.

"Morning," she replied quietly, her eyes locking onto his. "I err, I was just..." she trailed off. "Actually, I don't know what I was doing to be honest."

He stalked up to the chair, kneeling in front her. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her cheek bone. "You were such a good girl last night. Took me so well, teased me with that little number you had on. I've thought about you all morning."

Ransom watched her throat bob as she swallowed before licking her lips and biting the inside corner of her lip. Such an innocent gesture that had him half hard straight away.

"I want to give you something. But you have to be good, or it goes away," he started. "Can you be good, Sweetheart?"

She nodded, slightly. "Okay," he smirked. "Now, fix the chair and come up to make us breakfast."

Ransom stood back, allowing you some space to accommodate his request. You slipped the throw blanket from your shoulders and left it in the chair as you rearranged the piece back to its normal state. You met him at the doorway. You didn't miss the way his eyes moved over you, the way they lit up in a way at as he looked at the silken material covering your body. The dark teal silk and lace cami set was just one of a handful of options he'd provided for you. All the same, different colors, all in your size.

You hesitated for a second, not sure if this was another one of his little games but he simply met your eyes with his own and nodded up the stairs. With tentative, shaky steps you climbed them, sensing him close behind you as for the first time in weeks you left your prison. You felt anxious, highly on edge and nervous. What was awaiting you? There was the sickening feeling in your stomach of excitement too, you hadn’t seen the outside since Halloween. You paused at the top of the stairs in the hall. The kitchen was directly across from you, the entry to your right. The door to the basement clicked shut and you felt Ransom’s firm chest behind your back as his form invaded your space. He dragged a finger down your arm causing the strap of your top to fall away, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Straight ahead, Sweetheart."

“Okay,” you whispered before you slowly made your way through to the large, airy kitchen. You stood looking around, taking in the fancy appliances before you turned back to Ransom. "Did you have something in mind?”

"Well..." Ransom leaned in the doorway, watching you as you stood in the middle of the tiled floor "Yesterday wasn't the first time you said you enjoyed to cook so I thought you might like to." His eyes flicked once more down your frame and back up again before he nodded his head towards the rear of the room. “Anything you need is in the pantry and fridge.”

“And I can make anything I want?” You blinked, not quite able to believe what he was allowing you to do. It was fucked up that you were even considering this as a reward but, you’d take it. Boy would you take it, anything to grasp some sense of normality in this day-by-day hell you were living.

“Sure.” Ransom popped a shoulder again and you took a deep breath before you turned and headed to the sink to wash your hands before sorting out your menu and you froze. The outside landscape had stopped you cold. From what you could see of the back garden the property was secluded, not over looked. A lawn extended a fair distance back from the rear of the house, a neat decking area stood to the right which sported a hot tub and a little further down there looked to be a pool of some kind which was covered over for the season. Trees hung over the bottom of the garden lining the high wooden fence, what few leaves they still sported were shades of crimson, gold and brown and the river traced it’s banks as it curved around the side and back of the house, the sun shining off the surface, giving it the impression it was made of sapphires. It was breathtakingly beautiful and you felt your heart shatter, your eyes well and you couldn't help but hold back the urge to weep as your chest contracted painfully. You were so close to the outside, separated only by a pane of glass, yet it had never felt further away.

His voice broke you from your despair and you swallowed back the sob that choked your throat as you flicked your attention to the left, Ransom's reflection drawing closer towards you as he crossed the terracotta tiled floor.

"Everything alright?"

You cleared your throat and gave a quick shake of your head, "Fine."

Again you felt him in your space. His presence consuming. “You sure?”

Sure? No you weren’t sure. Because none of this was fine, in fact it was as far from fine as it could possibly get. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to spin round and hammer your fists into any part of his body you could hit but you knew that it wouldn't get you anywhere, bar back in the basement likely shackled naked to the bed so you instead turned slowly to find yourself caged in by his broad frame so close to yours. You cast your eyes downward, uncomfortable at his searching stare, "Yeah, I’m sure.”

Your tongue flicked nervously over your lips as you continued to avoid his gaze before you cleared your throat “How do you like your eggs? Or would you prefer an omelette? Pancakes even?" The urge to move away from him pulled you away from your idea of a menu. Brunch basics were flooding your brain and you rattled off a few nervously. He may have said you could make whatever you wanted, but right now, you had no clue. Seeing a different space, the outside world and breathing new air had rattled you.

“You choose.” Ransom spoke softly, his hand reaching up to brush your hair off your face before he tipped your chin up so your eyes met his. He looked at you, and you swallowed as for the first time there was something unreadable on his face. His eyes were looking at you in a way they’d never looked at you before, with a softness you’d never have anticipated he could possess.

"Waffles." You suddenly blurted out, desperate to escape his gaze "I err, do you have a waffle iron?”

“No.” He deadpanned.

"Oh," you swallowed "Erm, then in that case French toast...maybe? Is that ok?"

“Sounds delicious.” He said, his hand dropping from your face, “Sure it’ll taste almost as good as you.”

“Great. How about with fresh Chantilly cream and berries if you have them?” You asked, completely ignoring his blatant back handed compliment and you started familiarizing yourself with the space as you glanced around.

“Like I said, whatever you want, Sweetheart.” He shrugged, and with that he stepped back to allow you to move away.

Ransom watched her move around the luxurious kitchen, looking through the pantry and cabinet near the stove taking out cinnamon and vanilla, plucking items like bread, butter, eggs, berries and cream from the fridge. Searching drawers for utensils and measuring cups and spoons. Finding a pan and bowl from a bottom cabinet. Measuring sugar from the glass jar on the counter. He hoped the ingredients were still fresh, he wasn't exactly sure how long they'd been stored. She moved like she belonged there, he thought to himself. So sexy looking in her nightwear, bare feet on the tile, her ass and breasts moving underneath the silk as she stretched and worked.

"Coffee?" He offered, as he moved from one side to the other. He made sure his exquisite espresso machine was ready as it sat in all its glory on its own portion of the counter like a batista station inside Starbucks.

He didn't miss the way she watched him move around her, preparing the coffee and grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. He reached over her shoulder, his body brushing against hers as he opened the cupboard where he kept the glasses and mugs. He peered down at her, giving a twitch to the corner of his mouth. A smirk indeed. He noted the way her eyes followed him as he poured the juice, like he was going to poison her or something.

"It's just juice, Sweetheart," he said nonchalantly and put the juice back in the fridge. He set the breakfast table for them and took a seat in his place, a now hot cup of coffee in his hand, hers sitting on the counter next to her.

It wasn’t long before she had finished and brought the plates to the table, sitting down timidly in the seat to his right as he gestured to it, stopping her dead as she was about to make her way around to the opposite side.

It was quiet, the only sounds heard for a while were the click and scrape of forks and knives cutting away at the plates of food. Ransom wouldn't admit it out loud, but this was the best French toast he'd ever had in his life. Something about it, the way it was not soggy, but perfectly moist, the edges just crispy. The way the cream made for no syrup and the sweet berries added the final element. He watched her pick at the food for a moment or two as he glanced over at her and saw a small bit of Chantilly in the corner of her mouth.

A long arm reached across the table and automatically she flinched a little, as if she was going to pull away but one firm stare stopped her in her tracks. His thick thumb padded away the white, sweet cream and he brought the same thumb to his lips, sucking the cream away. He lifted his brows in a teasing manner and twitched up his lips, "Delicious. Like I said, almost as good as you, Sweetheart."

"Thanks, I think," she paused.

"Trust me, I know."

The comment seemingly threw her off her meal and it didn't get past Ransom. She had started picking at it, moving it around the plate like she had done with her dinner the night before. He, on the other hand, was near finished.

"Are you still not hungry?" He inquired.

She shook her head, "I just made my portion too big. I overestimated my appetite, I guess."

"Huh," he placated her reply. He knew she was lying but he let it slide, realizing that seeing a new space, the window to the outside was overwhelming. So, he thought he'd sweeten the deal. "I thought maybe you'd like to see the house," he offered, watching as her big eyes locked onto his and she took a deep breath.

"That sounds nice, thank you."

"Good, after breakfast then." He nodded affirmingly, as if it were drying ink in his mind. He picked up his coffee and finished it off, his plate already clear.

She stood from the table, collecting his plate with her own and headed for the sink. He turned in his chair, stalking her, watching her every move. The way she pitched over the sink, bending her frame over the dishwasher to load it as she cleaned up the kitchen.

With each bend and snap of her hips, he felt his mouth water more. Her little silk cami riding up as she moved, her breasts falling in and out of a fuller view. When she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, he was on her. He moved behind her, his hands grabbed her hips as she spun around completely startled giving a gasp and a quick yelp.

"Easy, Sweetheart," he chuckled as she looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Sorry... you, err...you startled me." She whispered as he moved his hands so they gripped at the side of the kitchen counter on either side of her, caging her in with his body.

"Some women would like that," he quipped, arching an eyebrow a little and watched as she swallowed hard and cast her eyes downward. Moving one hand slowly up her arm, over her shoulder and around her neck, he tipped her head back up so those large, Bambi eyes locked onto his.

His hand adjusted, gripping her chin softly as he moved closer still, dipping his head he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. He felt her go rigid, her chest spiking as she drew in a sharp breath, her body shaking slightly in his hold. "Stop fighting it..." he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her again. This time, his tongue traced the line of her upper lip, the feel of it soft and soothing.

You felt his tongue line your lip and you couldn't hold the whimper of fear that passed through you. He’d never kissed you before, not on the mouth anyway. You felt him deepen his kiss, his big hand cupping your face, pulling you into it more. Your mind went elsewhere, imagining anyone but him kissing you like this. You couldn't deny it, this intimate moment, completely lost on both of you for different reasons, felt good and he was good at it. He was damn good at it in fact, and that alone made you want to vomit your breakfast into his throat. At that, you jerked back, panting a little, feeling your lips swollen from the way he'd sucked your bottom one between his, pulling at it just the right way. You hated the feeling between your legs that it had evoked, your body betraying you just like it always did.

In an attempt to stave off the conflicting emotions spiking within you, you focussed on his face, the face you hated and to your surprise he looked dazed. The usual stoic expression that clouded his features had been replaced with something akin to surprise but no sooner had you noticed it, it was gone.

"Clean up and I'll meet you in the study." He told you, his voice a deep almost pained whisper.

"But I don't..." you started but were quickly cut off.

"You're a smart girl, figure it out," he smirked and slipped away.

You were tempted to follow, just so you'd see where he was going but you knew not to defy a command. The feeling of unease seemed to disappear as you slumped your shoulders and instead defeat filled your frame. A trembling hand came to your lips as jittery fingertips touched your swollen skin. Your bottom lip quivered like a ripple in a river and you quickly covered your mouth, turning on a dime as your French toast littered the sink. If the water hadn't been running already, Ransom would no doubt have heard you retching. You rinsed your mouth out to attempt at hiding that vomit taste from your tongue and quickly finished your task of cleaning up the kitchen, salty tears dripping from your chin, mixing with the soapy water.

When you could stall no longer, you sighed and headed out into the large hallway, taking a quick look around. It was light, airy, the grand staircase swept in and curved round to the next floor and your eyes lingered on the heavy wooden door just beyond it. You hesitated, and then with a dejected sigh realised there was no point even trying to escape. Even if it was unlocked, which you doubted, the threat to your family was just too much for you to risk. Instead, you decided to head down the corridor to your right and found yourself in a large open plan living room of sorts. It was decorated in clean whites and crisp greys with a huge feature stone open fireplace and sported a bar at the back. A brown leather sofa and two matching arm chairs were strategically placed around an expensive looking coffee table but you didn’t bother to look at the rest, this wasn’t the room you needed so you turned back on yourself, walked back into the hall and took the turning to your left.

This time you found yourself walking into what you could only assume was his study-come-den of sorts. It was huge, and once again sported a sofa pushed up against the wall, looking out over the spectacular view of not only the garden but the river too. But that wasn’t what caught your attention, nor was it the walnut desk and laptop that sat upon it. It was the floor to ceiling bookshelf behind it. Your mouth dropped open as you made your way towards it but then you stopped, biting your lip. Were you supposed to be looking at them? But, he had said to meet you in here. And left you to find your own way. Surely, if he didn’t want you looking around he wouldn’t have left you to it.

Throwing caution to the wind you strode forward, your pace hurried this time and your eyes quickly scanned across some of the books. You couldn’t help but feel shocked. Whilst there was a huge collection of his Grandfather’s books, and a number of other crime novels of types, it was the colourful spines to your right that made your chest heave in delight. The entire Harry Potter collection. With a shaky hand you reached for The Philosopher’s Stone, noting the British version of the title, and opened the front page giving another gasp as you read the publishing details.

This was a first edition. And from the date you also knew it would be one that contained the misprint errors. And as such, would be worth a small fortune.

“See something you like?” that familiar voice hit your ears and you gave a little shriek, jumping around, clutching the book to your chest to avoid dropping it.

“I’m sorry.” You hastily began to apologise “I was just…erm…”

“It’s ok.” He assured you, crossing towards you. Once more he encroached into your personal space and you felt the blades of your shoulders press into the shelf behind you. “Harry Potter fan?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Didn’t think they’d be your type of thing.

“They’re not really.” He shrugged “I’m a collector. Everything on the shelves, well they’re all first or limited editions, so worth a lot.”

“Figures.” You mumbled, turning round and slotting the book back into the space it had come from. As you did you felt him push up behind you, his hands on your hips, the unmistakable feel of his hard on dug into the lower part of your back and you fought to stop yourself shuddering. He was after pay-back for allowing you to leave your prison.

“Did you like the house?” he asked, brushing your hair off your neck.

“Yes.” You answered politely, your voice catching a little as he placed a kiss to the crook of your shoulder.

“You know, it could all be yours sweetheart if you just stopped fighting what you know you want” His kisses continued up your neck as his words whirled around your brain and you were back to where you had been in the kitchen. It felt good. And that disgusted you.

“Did you enjoy making breakfast?” he whispered, his lips by your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your voice barely there.

“Show me how much.” His teeth nipped at your lobe, his hips grinding forward and you swallowed and closed your eyes. You knew what he wanted but as you turned to face him you had an idea. One which would save you being fucked no doubt over the desk or on the hard looking couch.

With a lick of your lips you looked at him and sank slowly to your knees, taking his sweats with you. His hard cock sprang free, slapping his lower abs and you reached out, grasping it in your hand.

“Fuck, yeah baby…” Ransom hissed as you moved your head forwards and took him in your mouth.

You pulled out all the moves, you took him as deep as you could, gagging a little as he wasn’t a small man. You kept your hand firmly on the base of his cock, you hollowed your lips, you swirled your tongue around his shaft and he let out a little groan his hand fisting in your hair as his hips bucked forwards.

“Jesus, I knew your mouth was smart but…” he panted, looking down at you. You raised your eyes to look at his as he bit his lip, his entire face contorted in pleasure…

Pleasure that was ruined by the sound of the doorbell.

“What the fuck…” Ransom growled out, un-fisting his hand from her hair. “Who the fuck is that?”

He glanced down at her and she looked up at him, wide eyed. She was a mess, swollen lips, wet chin and dressed in nothing but her skimpy tank and shorts. With a frustrated growl, Ransom pulled his dick out of her mouth and grabbed his phone from the table to check the doorbell camera. His face blanched as he saw who it was.

“I don’t fucking believe it…” he mumbled, as she looked up at him.

“Who is it?” She asked, wiping her face, “I’m not exactly dressed for visitors, Hugh.”

Ransom might have been pre-occupied with the familiar face staring at him from his phone, but he still picked up on that 'Hugh' and he glared down at her. “No shit, and because we have a visitor, I'm gonna let that one slide. Get up.” She rose to her feet, blinking a little as he pulled off the thermal he was wearing and tossed it to her. “Put that on. No one gets to see you in silk but me.”

She blinked as she caught it, confusion spreading across her face. “Don’t you just want me to go-“

In a flash, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and finger and she winced, “If I wanted you downstairs I’d have said. So put the damn shirt on, and when he starts asking questions just remember what I said I could do to your family and friends.”

In complete complacency, he watched her slip his thermal over her head, her fingers barely peeking through the sleeves to fix her dishevelled hair. The material hit her mid-thigh and his eyes brows gave a flicker of approval before he walked to the entry and opened the door. "What do you want?"

"Pleasure to see you too, Mr. Drysdale..." that infuriating Southern drawl hit Ransom's ears with all the finesse of a cheese-grater. Benoit Blanc, without so much as a gesture of request, pushed past Ransom as he strode inside, stopping in the tiled entry, looking around.

"Do you have a warrant?" The man of the house snipped in his usual spiteful tone.

Blanc still didn’t reply, and Ransom rolled his eyes following him as he wandered down the hallway, stopping at the open door to the study. "Well, if it isn't the lady of the hour."

Ransom stood behind Blanc, an infuriatingly warning glare sent his girl's way. He noted the way she was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, lips still swollen, cheeks flushed, hair tousled. She looked like a sex kitten, and maybe that was the idea. He warned her to sell it after all…

"Excuse me?” Y/N looked up at the two men in the doorway.

Blanc stepped inside the room, taking a seat on the edge of the same couch where she sat. "I've been looking for you, young lady. A lot of people are looking for you, you know Miss Y/L/N.”

“I errr…” she swallowed a little as she slowly got to her feet, her hands pulling the hem of the thermal down before she folded her arms across her chest, not in a defiant manner, but almost as if she was hugging herself “Did someone send you or…”

“No, nothing like that. You see, I heard you'd gone missing, and I knew you had a work connection to Mr. Drysdale, that, shall we say didn't go quite as planned. So when things started adding up, I thought to ask the man himself."

“Well, congratulations, this is one mystery you actually solved correctly, Sherlock. As you can see she’s here and she’s fine, and we were in the middle of something, so if you don’t mind….” Ransom folded his arms, his eyes moving from hers to Blanc, who was irritatingly completely ignoring him, his gaze focussed intently on the woman who stood in front of him.

Ransom could see him take her in fully, now seeing the situation he may have just walked in on. She looked dishevelled and was missing crucial parts of her clothing, but she had no tears in her eyes, no markings looking to be of abuse or out of the ordinary. None that were visible anyway. Blanc’s gaze then dragged over to Ransom who was bare foot in joggers and still half aroused, which he did nothing to hide as he folded his arms over his naked chest.

Ransom held Blanc’s gaze, his chin jutting out defiantly, the detective only looking away when the lady of the hour spoke, her voice quiet, as she gave a small nod. "He’s right, I’m fine."

"Then why not tell your family where you are?”

“I err…” Y/N’s right hand gripped he cuff of the sweater sleeve tightly, “I just, well, I…”

Ransom could see that she was losing it and he knew he had to intervene. He walked over to her and placed an arm around her, kissing the top of her head lightly, "It's alright, Sweetheart. I know how he can be frustrating. We're doing nothing wrong."

With that he turned his gaze to the man in front of him, not even trying to hide the sneer of contempt that was crossing his face “I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you Blanc.”

“Well, maybe Miss Y/L/N has some crayons hidden up her sleeve so to speak.” Blanc smiled innocently and Ransom felt the anger floor his system.

“You’re starting to really piss me off.” he snarled, “You barge into my home, without so much of an explanation…” his rant was stopped dead as Y/N placed her hand on his chest, palm splaying over his bare skin. Ransom swallowed at the touch of her fingers against his skin, firey hot just as they had been last night when they curled around his arms.

"Hey," she spoke and he looked down to see her giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but one that should be enough to convince the dumbass detective who was watching them. "It's okay." She then turned to Blanc as he held his hand up, palm open, speaking to Ransom.

“I’m not trying to be frustrating Mr. Drysdale, I'm merely enquiring after Miss Y/L/N’s wellbeing."

"I'm not here under duress if that's what you're thinking.” She spoke, clearing her throat. “Hu… Ra, we have had to keep our relationship private,” she stumbled on the right identity, settling for 'we'. Clearing her throat again and settling her nerves, she continued, "Mr. Blanc, as you well know, I'm reporter and his background has been less than stellar as of late. It no doubt would not look good for either of us if it had come to light. My reputation as a journalist would have been in tatters.”

“Well, lies and deception certainly go hand in hand when it comes to Mr. Drysdale...”

Ransom rolled his eyes dramatically “Change the record, Blanc. The static is a little loud.”

Blanc completely ignored him, his attention still on her. “So you caused all this worry, because of some…” he waved his hand in front of him, gesturing between the pair of them.

Ransom’s arm curled round her even tighter, his fingers pressing into her hip and he felt her stiffen a little before she relaxed into his side and gave a small nod.

"Like I said, it wouldn’t have gone down well with my family, or my career.”

“Ahh, yes, your job, which you quit.” Blanc looked at her. “Yes, I spoke to your boss.” He answered her unasked question. “Why would you be so worried for your reputation as a journalist, if you’re not actually a journalist anymore?”

At that she took a deep breath “I quit the paper because my boss is an asshole. His antics on Halloween were a step too far. But that doesn’t mean I have no intentions of working ever again. I'm currently taking a long overdue sabbatical.”

Blanc studied her again, almost as if he was weighing something up and she once more began to fidget and Ransom decided he’d had enough.

"Okay, I’m done being polite,” Ransom moved his arm from around his girl and stepped towards Blanc, placing himself directly between the detective and the woman. “You've interrupted out little post brunch love affair and I’m horny, so…do you need help finding the door, or can your super sleuth skills figure the way back out of it on their own?”

“Miss Y/L/N?” Blanc spoke, his eyes locked onto Ransom’s. Ransom felt the nerve in his jaw twitch, the fact that Blanc wasn’t scared of him irritated him no end.

There was a pause and then her voice came clearly from behind him as she spoke, “If you'd be so kind as to not tell my family where I am, I'd appreciate it. I prefer this time without their unwanted opinion.” Her voice was steady, measured almost. “You can tell them that you've found me, alive and well."

Blanc knew he wasn't welcome, he had proof of life and no reason to suspect foul play. He stood, his long wool coat falling into place around him. "Well, then I guess my work is done." He brushed passed Ransom and gave a quick quip, "I'm warning you...."

"What was that?" His girl wondered. She'd heard him.

"Have a nice day," Blanc nodded curtly “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched the back of the detective as he left the large living room, Ransom following him to the doorway where he stood, arms folded, watching. The sound of Blanc’s feet on the tiles of the hallway grew fainter and fainter until eventually they stopped completely. The latch of the door sounded and you fell to the closest thing you could sit on. Your while body shook with a chill that crept into your bones but not from the cold. No, you were sick to your stomach in fear and worry. The bile of deceit rose to your throat and had you not already spewed up your breakfast it would have most likely decorated the carpet of the study. Instead, you swallowed down the sour bile as Drysdale approached you and you glanced up at him, blinking whilst he studied you for a second, his face passive. As you held his gaze, something akin to amusement flashed in his cold blue eyes and a twisted smirk spread across his face.

“Your acting skills certainly improved there along the way, at the end you were almost award worthy.” He drawled, his hands falling to his hips. “Even Meryl Streep would be jealous.”

"Fuck you," your voice quivered.

He arched an eyebrow, an amused expression on his features “Already played that game Sweetheart, and carry on back-chatting me and you’ll be back in the basement.”

"Wh... What?"

"You pulled through in the end there. It was a rough start, but you convinced Colonel Sanders that you were here on your own."

“Colonel Sanders?” You blinked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Blanc. CSI KFC.” He replied. You were none the wiser as to what he was going on about and it must have shown on your face as he simply rolled his eyes. "Never mind...the point is, sweetheart, I'm in a good mood. And seeing as you behaved...”

"What?" Your voice was quiet, meek.

"If you shut that pretty little mouth for longer than a second, I'll explain." His tone was measured but you didn’t miss the underlying threat.

“Sorry.” Your eyes fell to the floor, your left hand worrying at your right.

“Eyes on me.” He barked and your head whipped up automatically and he smirked at you as you took a deep breath. “As I was saying, seeing as you were such a good girl, I thought I’d reward you, let you stay up here with me for the day.”

The notion shocked you. Your mouth went dry and you couldn't make sense of it. But then, the more you thought about it, the more his audacity irked you. He’d imprisoned you, used you, abused you…and now he was implying that staying in his company was a fucking reward.

“Wow, thanks…” you blurted before you could stop yourself, sarcasm lacing your tone. As soon as the words had slipped from your mouth you felt panic flood your system as he stepped towards you and reached out, his right hand curling around your throat.

"Don’t push me sweetheart.” His voice was low as his fingers squeezed the column of your neck, a reminder of how easily he could simply end it all whenever he chose.

And just like that the softness that he had displayed with you earlier that morning was gone, and the shutters were back up. You swallowed hard, feeling the strain of your throat against his touch, his eyes now dark and full of that familiar angry lust and desire that chilled you from head to toe. Blanc had riled him, gotten underneath his skin, that was easy to see while your mouthy comments fuelled that ire. And as such, he needed an escape, an outlet.

And he was going to get it from you.

“Now on your knees and finish what you started."

**** Part 4

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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roses-and-elixir · 2 years ago

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How are you doing and how was your day/week? I have been feeling sad the last few days, a lot of things have overwhelmed me. And peoples words haunt me a bit. Usually i can get over it the same day, but i guess im just tired. Im not sure why im dropping this all on to you, im sorry for that. Usually i am the "always okay" type of person and deal with my own problems. But it has become very lonely. Even when im not okay, people dont take it seriously because of "how strong i am." I hope that your days are filled with peace and comfort though. ♡

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings with me. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been sad recently and that things have been overwhelming. Is there anything you can do practically to try to help make it feel less overwhelming; maybe try to set yourself small tasks to get things done one step at a time?

That’s so unfair, you are still a human being - it’s okay to not be strong all the time and to break down and cry. It’s okay to ask for a shoulder to lean on when you need it. I’m sorry to hear people aren’t taking you seriously. It takes a lot of courage to muster up words and let people know how you are feeling etc - idk if this helps but you are more than welcome to drop me more anon asks if it helps to talk. Having a good heart to heart session can be really healing. I hope whatever you are going through becomes less of a burden for you, and that things become easier.

My weeks been nice so far, I’ve been really active being out and about and just exploring what the country has to offer. It’s been really nice to try to converse with people in different languages too (even though I’m crap at speaking it) - feels more like an exciting challenge trying to communicate. I’m going to miss travelling once I get back to England and get back to my mundane routine lol. Thank you for asking btw I really appreciate it ❤️

#anon

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binderclipdocs · 4 years ago

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Hello! I’m wondering what your take is on Dear Friend (and especially “I’m in love with a friend of mine”?) I find the song a little confusing, and I’ve read a lot of different interpretations. I really love your films and I know you’ve done a lot of research, would love to know what you think. Thanks!

Thanks for your appreciation, anon! I love Dear Friend and am happy to share my thoughts on this haunting, mournful, mysterious song!

I’ll be the first to admit the lyrics are confusing (like so many McCartney songs!), mostly by virtue of the fact that Paul uses “friend” twice in a row. Are there two friends, or only one? By using the word “friend” on top of each other as he does, it suggests either a single friend (the titular “Dear Friend”) in two situations OR two friends, in separate/competing situations.

Dear Friend, throw the wine

I’m in love with a friend of mine

Really, truly, young and newlywed

Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, interpretation, fantasy, etc. and no one but McCartney himself can definitively declare precisely what he meant with this song. But it’s my opinion that Paul was saying the latter; that he is in love with his friend and new wife, Linda. This is my conclusion after having deeply researched this period extensively for TWO documentary series (McCartney (2020) and Understanding Lennon/McCartney), an opinion that obviously no one is required to entertain and anyone is free to discard. But for those who are interested, I’ll share my reasoning below.

Firstly, this is NOT an attempt to disprove that Paul was ever in love with John or vice verse. They both used this term publicly and therefore probably/possibly did privately with each other as well. But Paul’s statements in April, 1970 pretty clearly spell out the situation:

“Personally, I don’t think John could do the Beatles thing now. I don’t think it would be good for him.

John’s in love with Yoko, and he’s no longer in love with the other three of us. And let’s face it, we were in love with the Beatles as much as anyone.”

So John and Paul were “in love” (with each other as people, or the Beatles as a concept, or Lennon/McCartney as a team, etc) for a long time. But by 1970, they both have new spouses and new lives and are following different paths. Here’s a brief recap of the events that led to this statement:

In a now-famous meeting in September 1969, John told Paul that he was leaving the Beatles and wanted a divorce. Whether this was an idle threat designed to scare/hurt Paul, or a real desire on John’s part is open to interpretation, but Paul, for his part, took it seriously.

Allen Klein asked John not to go public with his decision to leave the group and John happily and uncharacteristically agreed to sit on this “news” indefinitely. Paul subsequently disappeared for 6-8 weeks, mourned the loss of the band privately in Scotland, and then began working on his first solo album. Communication between John and Paul fell apart at that point, and John began a campaign of maneuvers - possibly engineered or facilitated by Klein - to bring Paul back into the Beatles’ fold and force him to submit to Klein’s management and John’s leadership. Backed into a proverbial corner by John, George, Ringo, Yoko and Klein, Paul played the last card he had: he quit.

In April 1970, Paul made the split official (deliberately or accidentally? YMMV) with the release of his first solo LP, and attempted to finalize the divorce with an uncooperative John for the remainder of the year. As is pretty well-documented, Paul tried for a quick and amicable split, requesting a release from the Beatles’ contract. But after John was unresponsive and Allen Klein advised him to set duplicitous legal traps that would prevent Paul from separating from the Beatles, Paul (as advised by his lawyers) decided to sue for divorce by the end of 1970.

By 2020, even the most casual Beatles fans know two basic truisms: 1) that Paul loved John always and 2) that Paul didn’t want the band to break up. Of course there’s more to the story than just that. We have also been told repeatedly that John “left Paul,” but this is not the whole truth either.

Essentially what John did was yell “I’m breaking up with you!” and then block the door every time Paul tried to leave.

As late as September, 1971 John is still saying publicly that he hopes Paul will return.

Int.: Let's talk a bit about Paul's aversion to Klein. From what we've read it seemed as if this wasn't there in the beginning, even though Paul wanted the Eastmans to run things. But it came on later as things progressed. And yet despite this, we gather that Klein was still hoping that Paul would return to the group.

John: Oh, he'd love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I've said that. In five years he'll wake up.

[Narrator voice: Paul did not came back.]

Yes, Paul loved John. No, Paul didn’t want the Beatles to break up.

But when John said he wanted out, Paul took him seriously, respected his decision, never made a single attempt to woo John back and showed up 6 months later with a moving van and divorce papers.

When you hear Dear Friend out of context -knowing only that Paul loved John and was sad after the breakup- it’s not wholly unreasonable to think maybe Paul was declaring his eternal love for John here:

I’m in love with a friend of mine really, truly, young and newlywed

But when you experience Dear Friend in the proper context, that interpretation sounds less and less likely. Here’s Paul:

April 21, 1970

“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming me. You can’t blame John for falling in love with Yoko any more than you can blame me for falling in love with Linda.

We tried writing together a few more times, but I think we both decided it would be easier to work separately. I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership. It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me."

Summer 1970

Paul writes John a 12-page letter requesting that they “let each other out of the trap.” John’s response was a picture of himself and Yoko with a balloon drawn above his head saying “How and Why?”

Paul responded: “How? By singing a paper that says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why? Because there is no partnership.”

April 16, 1971

PAUL: “We used to get asked at press conferences, 'What are you going to do when the bubble bursts?' When I talked to John just the other day, he said something about, 'Well, the bubble's going to burst.' And I said, 'It has burst. That's the point. That's why I've had to do this, why l had to apply to the court. You don't think I really enjoy doing that kind of stuff. I had to do it because the bubble has burst-- everywhere but on paper.' That's the only place we're tied now.”

Nov 11, 1971

MM: But John said to me that what you’d done in bringing the [court] trials up and everything was what they all wanted, that you’d just done it a lot earlier than they would have done.

PAUL: Well if that’s true, well… well, come on! That’s – see, I’ve told you… The joke is, though, that we don’t have to do trials. It’s not necessary. If the four Beatles signed a bit of paper, or even ripped the old contract up and said, “This contract is no longer valid, we all hereby said it, we all legally direct the shareholders…” the whole thing, to wind it all up, we could do it. And if that’s really what he wants, he could do it this minute. [snaps fingers]

Furthermore, Paul was deeply in love with Linda during this period, as reflected by: the songs on both McCartney and RAM, the testimony of those around them at the time and by Paul’s own recollections. The first few years of Paul and Linda’s marriage was their honeymoon period, their era as newlyweds. It was certainly an awful time for Paul in many respects: the business battles of the Beatles were excruciating and extremely stressful and the loss of his three best friends was heartbreaking. Furthermore, the rock press had largely turned against him (sometimes viciously so), and John & Yoko (and Allen Klein) were painting him as a traitor to the counterculture and a villain for destroying the Beatles with his granny music, giant ego and overbearing personality. Paul and Linda were extremely isolated, partially by choice and partially by force.

But even though this was a terrible time for Paul in many respects, he was extremely happy with his new family. He later described this period with Linda as one of the happiest periods of their life. Paul has said numerous times Linda (along with nature and horse-riding) brought him out of depression after the Beatles ended and gave him the strength to push forward with his solo career, at a time when many were rooting against him (and a literal cult was forming that claimed he was DEAD and had been replaced by an inferior imposter- let that sink in for a moment!). He has been consistent about it over the years, and reiterated it as recently as 2020:

UNCUT: Tell me about the guy in the photo n the McCartney sleeve. He looks happy.

PAUL: I was really happy, yeah. The Beatles had become such a business machine, and with the arrival of Allen Klein the whole thing, every day was very unpleasant.

UNCUT: So there you were on the farm, finding solace in a new family...

PAUL: Yes. I had a little place in Scotland. So we just went out there. “It’s so remote, no one can be bothered trekking all the way up here for a meeting.” It was a good period. We grabbed our freedom- you know what, we seized the day! Also, I had a new baby; I’d not been a father before, so I was very happy.

In December of 1970, John gave his infamous Lennon Remembers interview to Rolling Stone. According to the liner notes of the Wildlife reissue from 2018 (and confirmed by the timing of the demo), Paul composed Dear Friend in reaction to John’s comments in that interview (not How Do You Sleep, as is commonly believed). But he sat on the song for awhile and didn’t record it until late 1971 (for inclusion on Wildlife). Judging from the tone of Too Many People and other songs on RAM, Paul’s initial sadness, confusion and disappointment gradually morphed into (or perhaps swung back and forth between) anger and defiance, accompanied by a taunting and/or gloating tone. Having gotten Dear Friend out of his system, it seems it simply didn’t fit thematically on RAM. Perhaps after the release of HDYS, Paul was deflated and despondent enough to return to Dear Friend? Perhaps Jealous Guy tempered or calmed Paul’s anger?

Or maybe it was just a genuine attempt to turn the heat down. We know that immediately following its release, John and Paul agreed (seemingly at Paul’s insistence) to quit bickering in public.

In any case, Dear Friend is a complex songs with a spectrum of emotions. Unlike Jealous Guy it is not apologetic; it’s mournful but also incredulous and slightly accusatory. Paul appears to be calling John’s bluff: Do you really believe all the bullshit you’re spewing?

Are you a fool, or is it true?

The John Lennon of Lennon Remembers is without hope or faith, denouncing everything he ever believed in and everyone he ever trusted -with the notable exceptions of Allen Klein, Phil Spector and Yoko. Paul clearly loves John and hopes to salvage their relationship, but Dear Friend was written at a time when John was being manipulated and exploited by people he later admitted were misplaced “daddy figures.” While Klein and Spector turned out to not be the most reliable friends to John, Paul certainly seems to know and understand John’s vulnerabilities and motivations better than most. As he sings in the demo:

Are you afraid? Or are you blue?

So why does Paul mention that he’s newlywed and in love with Linda? Firstly, because he is, and he wants to celebrate with his best friend. We know Paul’s desire was for the two couples to make peace and be friends. Pour the Wine. Clink glasses and celebrate their new marriages together.

PAUL: Dear Friend was to do with John, a bit of longing about John. Let’s have a glass of wine and forget about it. A making up song. (July 2001).

This is precisely what the two couples did in December of 1971, immediately following the release of Wildlife.

JOHN: We were both nervous, the four of us were nervous. I hadn’t seen him for a long time. I’d spoken on the phone [with him]. Uh, it was alright, you know. It was alright.

This is precisely what happened again throughout 1974 (with John & May Pang this time around), which John affectionately called their “Beaujolais evenings.”

Admittedly, It may seem odd for Paul to mention that he is happily married (and in love with another “friend”) in a make up song to John. Until you think about the romantic tension between John and Paul and Paul’s bold public recognition of it with this statement: “It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me.” Paul acknowledges here that John is in love with Yoko and wants John to acknowledge his love for Linda as well.

In Dear Friend he’s communicating that there is nothing to fear; they are secure in their respective marriages, there is no need to be hurt or angry or jealous anymore. We’re no longer partners, but we can still be friends. “Let’s have a glass of wine and forget about it.” A softer, gentler version of: Wake up, John. It’s over. Sign the fucking papers already.

So I think of Dear Friend as an olive branch, but not the groveling type some apparently do. And I most definitely do not think it was a signal to John that Paul was still in love with him, despite being newlywed to Linda.

I suppose it might seem a bit brutal for Paul to be singing about loving someone else in a song to John (although he’s done it before and I think John has done the same). But I honestly think it is something Paul believes John needs to hear and accept at this point; that he is “really, truly” in love with Linda and that he’s not about to divorce her or run after the first “blonde with big tits” as Allen Klein so charmingly suggested.

By September 1971, John still hasn’t seemed to accept Linda, or Paul’s relationship with her:

John: Paul always wanted the home life, you see. [... long, rambling story about being terrified when Paul got a job in 1961 and for a second looked as if he might abandon John and the group]

All the other girls were just groupies mainly. And with Linda not only did he have a ready-made family, but she knows what he wants, obviously, and has given it to him. The complete family life. He's in Scotland. He told me he doesn't like English cities anymore. So that's how it is.

Int.: So you think with Linda he's found what he wanted?

John: I guess so. I guess so. I just don't understand . . . I never knew what he wanted in a woman because I never knew what I wanted.

With comments like this John seems (IMO) to be twisting himself into knots trying to rationalize Paul’s choice of Linda, practically wondering aloud what could she give him that I couldn’t? He still seems unwilling to face or accept what Paul begrudgingly accepted and admitted years before: that his partner fell in love with someone else.

Here’s 76 year old Paul reminiscing about this tender, bittersweet time in his life, happy and in love with his wife and young family and simultaneously in deep pain over losing his dearly beloved best friend:

I remember when I heard the song recently, listening to the roughs in the car. And I thought, ‘Oh God’. That lyric: ‘Really truly, young and newly wed’. Listening to that was like, ‘Oh my God, it’s true!’ I’m trying to say to John, ‘Look, you know, it’s all cool. Have a glass of wine. Let’s be cool.’

“Let’s be cool.” Not “Please take me back,” not “Ignore my just-for-show marriage, I’m still in love with YOU.” To me, Paul is saying “I’m really, truly in love with my friend and new wife, can we please just be happy for each other? It’s all cool.” And for the record, I don’t find this sentiment any less loving on Paul’s part because I don’t think Paul being in love with his own wife (which he was), detracts from his love for John in any way. Again, I agree that the lyrics are slightly ambiguous, and perhaps this is meaningful too. It could be that the lack of hard boundary between the two friends (John and Linda) reflects how much Paul loves them both; they certainly aren’t positioned as opposites (i.e. I love her but I hate you). Instead they’re both part of the imagined celebration; Paul wants them all to share the wine together- and he wants them to tolerate (love) each other.

I think the traditional narrative doesn’t account for all of this because the traditional narrative does not acknowledge that John has any feelings for Paul in the first place. How in the world could Paul be asking John to “be cool” and accept the new situation when John didn’t even care about Paul in the first place and had been trying to get rid of him for years? This perception - of John gleefully blasting Paul with HDYS and Paul replying that he’s in love with John - has taken hold in many minds and has picked up a lot of steam in recent years with so-called “jean jackets” because they fundamentally believe that Paul’s love for John was one-sided. They cannot comprehend that Paul would ever tell John to “cool it” or back off in any way (even in 70-71) because they take the surface story at face value: John dumped Paul for Yoko and heartbroken Paul spent the rest of his life desperately trying to win John back. This is the narrative depicted in virtually every book I’ve read. My analysis is based on my own research, not this narrative.

I would invite readers of this post to watch (or re-watch) ULM (particularly volume 3 ) for a more comprehensive study of John and Paul’s relationship.

Lastly, after doing my own independent research for McCartney (2020), I found that the Paul McCartney described by the musicians and collaborators in Paul’s life was dramatically different from the person depicted in books like Man on the Run. My films are free from narration and commentary; I rely on first-hand interviews and information from the people involved, and in my opinion there is a great deal to be learned about Paul from the way he relates to others, especially through music. And although the McCartney series is about his solo career as opposed to his Beatle career, I would definitely recommend it to anyone who is interested in Lennon/McCartney for the insights they could gain.

Thank you very much for this ask- hopefully there aren’t too many typos!

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.