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cuntressgoingdigital · 1 month ago

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BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse.

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room.

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs.

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far.

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan.

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis.

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed.

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough.

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!”

abby knew that voice.

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk.

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner.

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk.

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her.

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?”

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.”

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck.

she didn’t even ask for your name.

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you.

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction.

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable.

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual.

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.”

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush.

“hey!”

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out.

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?”

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach.

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?”

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations.

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was.

but, that wasn’t your business.

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.”

god, you were the cutest thing.

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class.

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise.

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far.

and really pretty.

like, really pretty.

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately.

abby a.: is this good?

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account.

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check.

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance.

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster.

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated.

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be.

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door.

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz.

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you.

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name.

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car.

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.”

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder.

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.”

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?”

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus.

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port.

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs.

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.”

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it.

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.”

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table.

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology.

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you.

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets.

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar.

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder.

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded.

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.”

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.”

“i can be just friends with a girl!”

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby).

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts.

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be.

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week.

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’.

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you.

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up.

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her.

she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand.

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to.

you always got the passenger princess treatment.

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift.

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings.

“you okay, babe?”

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that.

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth.

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over.

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.”

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe.

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room.

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?”

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time.

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle.

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t.

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.”

finally, abby could exhale.

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?”

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.”

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased.

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?”

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity.

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.”

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours.

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest.

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap.

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss.

“is that okay?”

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.”

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips.

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her.

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you.

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side.

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones.

“sort of. a while ago.”

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart.

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress.

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone.

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #nisa writes #leaving it open ended so i have an excuse to write rugby captain abby #i will be terrorizing yall with more college au #idk i kinda hate this but i wrote it so its getting posted #divider by cafekitsune

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hyvyinjie · 1 year ago

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DESTINY.

TW! cursing, death.

angst! centric.

g. satoru x gn. reader.

DESTINY. that capricious force akin to the bittersweet conclusion of tragic fates, had long since wielded its cruel hand.

yet, amidst the delicate interplay of life and death, a singular anomaly emerged—satoru gojo—an irresistibly peculiar being adorned with gifted endowments bestowed by the very heavens themselves.

he, the self-proclaimed harbinger of destiny's blessings, carried within him a profound sense of purpose and significance.

alas, it is a lamentable truth that even the possession of such a grandiose title holds no power to rescue or shield those in need.

forlornly, we witness the bitter reality that the mere proclamation of a lofty designation cannot serve as a panacea to alleviate the trials and tribulations of others.

"don't even try closing your eyes."

young, naive and foolish. the honoured one beseeched, his countenance etched with an unmistakable worry—bereft of the customary shielding of sunglasses that customarily veiled sight of his otherworldly irises of azure.

his resplendent eyes—now bared—gleamed with a mesmerizing confluence of sentiments.

it was an unprecedented spectacle, witnessing him so palpably anxious and emotionally invested.

deep within, he harbored a profound remorse, cognizant of his inability to employ a reverse technique—that elusive skill—to aid you in this despair-induced juncture.

"shoko's on the way. she'll heal you."

"quit being so damn stubborn and listen to me."

he assured confidently, his typical arrogant utterances suffused with both conviction and hope.

yet, as he spoke—it appeared as though he inadequately grasped the gravity of your state or purposefully averted his gaze—fixating instead upon the illusory prospect of an inevitably fruitless convalescence.

no, you’re not dying.

he mindlessly repeated to himself—as if caught in an bewitching refrain that echoed ceaselessly within the chambers of his delusions.

the words—like a hypnotic melody—entwined themselves around his thoughts, weaving a tapestry of false reassurance.

in the grip of his illusions—he clung to this fragile mantra, desperately seeking solace in its rhythmic cadence.

yet, deep down, a flicker of awareness whispered of the truth obscured by his fervent repetitions.

reality—unyielding and immutable—loomed ever closer, despite his desperate attempts to stave it off with a haunting refrain.

with a blend of earnest gravity and feigned jocularity—despite the quivering timbre of his voice—he appended,

“don’t you dare die, or ill never let you live it down.”

his eyes bore into yours with an unwavering intensity that seemed to penetrate the tumult enfolding you—unveiling a vulnerability he seldom divulged to others.

in that gaze, the tenacity of his resolution and the profoundness of his connection to you became palpable—as if the burden of your well-being rested solely upon his shoulders.

“live it down, you say?..”

a desiccated chuckle escaped your lips as the wretch persisted. how imbecilic could this fool possibly become?

“satoru..”

not long after, your body convulsed with a fit of coughs triggered by the mere act of speaking, the fragility of your condition became starkly apparent.

yet, even still—it was unmistakable that he clung to denial, unabashedly rejecting the unassailable truth.

yes, you were dying—indeed, you were teetering on the precipice of demise.

there existed naught but remorse and lamentation.

"stop talking! for fucks sake, y/n—“

he inhaled a tremulous breath, as if seeking composure amidst a tempestuous tempest raging within his soul.

his eyelids clenched shut with an ardent fervor, as though he were frantically endeavoring to elude the clutches of reality in one final, desperate gambit.

“please—just..”

“just listen to me, and do as I say. please.”

with each uttered word, a sense of desolation burgeoned, casting a somber shade upon his countenance.

“y/n..”

yet, these words bore a weight surpassing mere despondency. every syllable dripped with a venomous essence, tainted by a profound self-abhorrence that seemed to turn inward.

it was as though his very voice had transformed into a conduit for self-loathing, a vessel through which frustration and disillusionment coursed.

he berated himself for completely contradicting his egoistical claims.

he despised—loathed himself.

he detested his own folly, castigating himself for what he perceived as a feeble inability to lend aid. the underlying contradiction between his self-aggrandizing proclamations and his actual capabilities stoked the fires of his self-directed animosity.

within the depths of his being, an infernal tempest raged, a battlefield of inner turmoil where he grappled with the demons of self-hate. the echoes of his own voice reverberated, seemingly magnifying the intensity of his internal strife, amplifying the magnitude of his self-loathing.

he loathed the hold you have on him, stirring up a storm of emotions within his being. the turmoil you evoked within him was a source of deep resentment.

but above all else, what he despised the most was the inexplicable extent to which he cared for you.

he despised the fact that, despite everything and anyone else, he couldn't help but like you, adore you, and ultimately choose to love you.

the intensity of his hatred stemmed from the realization that his heart had chosen a path that he had not intended to follow. he resented the vulnerability that loving you exposed within him, and the power you held over his emotions.

in the depths of his inner turmoil, he grappled with conflicting emotions. while he may have wished to resist and deny the depth of his feelings, the truth remained that his heart had made its choice, despite his best efforts to resist it.

this contradiction between his hatred for the circumstances and his genuine affection for you created a profound inner struggle, intensifying his frustrations and exacerbating the complexity of his emotions.

it frustrated him, angered him even, that his emotions had become entangled with your presence. the vulnerability that accompanied this caring, this attachment, felt like a weakness he resented.

in his innermost thoughts, he grappled with the paradox of his feelings. the profound disdain for the impact you had on him clashed with the undeniable truth that his heart held a deep and unexplainable affection for you.

it was a conflict that gnawed at his core, leaving him torn between his aversion and the undeniable pull of his care.

"oh?..what have we here...”

despite the gravity of your state, you conjured the wellsprings of fortitude to articulate phrases—effectively jolting him from his reverie, as he clung to your every word like a vital thread. each syllable echoed with a poignant cough, reverberating through the fragile contours of your agonizing form.

the inexorable verity loomed, an inescapable specter—your grievous wounds would inevitably claim your life, a harsh reality especially within the realm of sorcerers from which there was no evasion.

and so, in a hushed whisper, your voice tapering off amidst another bout of coughing, the violence of it serving as a stark reminder of your vulnerability. yet, deep within, you harbored a profound cognizance of the path that lay ahead.

"satoru gojo... of all people.”

you provocatively taunted, your words imbued with both resignation and a trace of sorrow.

in that very moment, you apprehended the cruel irony of their circumstances, the whimsical caprices of fate that had entangled their lives. the weight of your impending fate pressed upon you, and you couldn't help but ponder if it would elicit any emotions within him.

"--are you going to cry?”

with a subtle curl gracing the corner of his lips, he meticulously observed every movement, every flicker in your eyes, and every breath you took. he made a conscious effort to etch each detail into the recesses of his memory. It seemed as though you possessed an uncanny ability to perceive his emotions with remarkable clarity, despite his best efforts to conceal them.

however, as his expression shifted to one of solemnity, a faint trace of melancholy colored his features.

the question you posed had struck a deeply personal chord within him, one he never anticipated having to confront.

your words resonated within the sixteen-year old male, his unwavering gaze fixed upon yours. a sense of anguish mingled with the realization that you, y/n, had seen through him like an open book.

unable to suppress the tears that welled up in his eyes, he swiftly brushed them away, striving to maintain a composed facade.

"no, of course not.”

his response emerged, delivered with the expected composure and confidence. yet, a glimmer in his eyes betrayed the facade, hinting at an inner turmoil that consumed him.

the conflicting emotions etched upon his countenance, the raw sorrow intertwined with resolute determination, were familiar sights you had come to recognize during your time together.

at the very least, he had been stirred by the irony of the situation. but what lay beneath the surface?

his lips curved into a solemn smile, though his eyes conveyed a different tale altogether.

he couldn't help but smirk slightly in response to your teasing, his unwavering irises never once straying from your perfect ones. how dare you utter such words...

you managed to elicit a smile from him, causing his typically smug facade to momentarily contort into a faint frown, though his expression swiftly returned to its customary coolness.

the gravity of your condition had not escaped the impact it had on the sorcerer standing before you. however, it appeared that the full severity of the situation seemingly had yet to fully dawn upon his young fellow. and with mere moments remaining before your impending demise...

"me? cry—over you? what a joke.”

he retorted, pausing momentarily. his smirk faltered—as if on the precipice of speaking with a tone devoid of jest—as if the barriers he had erected had momentarily crumbled.

"do not flatter yourself. tears may suite me, but I don’t need that amplifying my perfection.”

regardless, his voice remained low and harsh, devoid of the usual playful edge and trademark amusement that characterized his interactions with you.

though the expression in his eyes remained unaltered, a certain stiffness was evident in his speech, as if he were still uncertain where else to direct his overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

as he continued to observe you, a solemnity settled over his previously neutral features. you could sense his burgeoning grief, his thoughts racing against the inexorable passage of time, yearning desperately for even the faintest glimpse of a solution.

his response was a feeble attempt to mask his emotions, his voice quivering, and his eyes still shimmering with unshed tears.

though his words denied it, his body language spoke volumes.

his pretty cerulean irises glistened with unshed tears, his heart pounding in his chest. he had anticipated her demise for far too long, believing he had grown accustomed to it, deeming it an inevitable outcome.

but now, as your final breaths escaped your lungs, the weight of your departure struck him with the force of a thousand bricks, reality seeping in for the first time. he had failed. his overwhelming pride and hubris had blinded him to the possibility of defeat. he had failed his long-time peer—his classmate, his friend.

the weight of failure bore heavily upon him, for he believed he had let down the one person who held the most profound place in his heart—the one he cherished above all others romantically, the soul he held dear.

the depth of his love for you only amplified the agony of his perceived failure. he blamed himself for not meeting the expectations he had set, for not being able to provide the happiness and fulfillment you deserved. the pain of falling short in your gaze was an unbearable burden he carried—leaving him haunted by the knowledge that he had failed the one person who truly held his heart.

"...yes, i am going to cry, you idiot."

contrary to his perception, it was not you who struggled to accept your fate, but rather, it was he who clung to seemingly everlasting denial.

while he grappled with the reality of the situation, you had long since come to terms with the inevitable outcome. you had made peace with the circumstances that destiny had dealt, finding solace in the acceptance of what lay ahead.

the dichotomy between your acceptance and his denial created a rift, deepening the emotional chasm between you.

despite your readiness to face the truth, he remained entrenched in a state of refusal, unable to confront the impending reality.

the exquisite interplay of sentiments, wherein the embrace of acceptance magnified the enigmatic dance between your emotional odysseys, illuminated the paradoxical tapestry of contradictory.

eager to traverse the expanse, he yearned to forge a bridge, yet were ensnared by the magnetic allure of diverging destinies—proximity rendered illusory, a poignant dance of nearness and seeming remoteness.

while your hearts may have harmonized in tempo, the dissonant discord into the fabric of your emotional realms served as a haunting refrain, a vivid reflection to the divergent trajectories of your conclusions.

if only the revered one possessed the authority to sculpt fate with a touch of influence, weaving threads of destiny like a master artisan shaping the sinuous hell of time.

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yumeyooa · 3 years ago

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revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢ pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!!

navigation | collection masterlist

Life couldn’t be any better.

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays.

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work.

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold.

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it.

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life.

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through.

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end.

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band.

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you.

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different.

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely.

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way.

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time.

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps.

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all.

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!"

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes.

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers.

He genuinely seemed to care.

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…"

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for.

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you.

But he would have never expected this.

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook.

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry.

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room.

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon."

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her.

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies.

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared.

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise.

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place.

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free.

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much.

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years.

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?"

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty.

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group.

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do.

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm.

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it.

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was.

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you.

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends.

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju.

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while.

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking.

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence,

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke.

In a way, it was kind of cute.

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers.

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined.

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him.

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....”

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep.

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking.

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock.

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free.

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will.

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you.

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook.

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family.

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other.

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Why was he acting like this anyway?

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight.

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood.

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier.

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier.

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before?

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you.

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be?

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore.

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him?

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end.

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help?

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb.

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen.

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly.

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them.

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend.

It was you.

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you.

Well, Jungkook be damned.

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure.

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing.

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing.

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning.

You went into all of this, risking everything.

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room.

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over.

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him.

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea.

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny.

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right?

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating.

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating,

Because immediately you got hooked.

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.”

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart.

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself.

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary.

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out.

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety.

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years.

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out?

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments.

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain.

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!”

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you.

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life.

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had.

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him.

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same.

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?”

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady.

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!”

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot.

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering.

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did,

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories.

It was you.

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that.

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own.

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit.

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?”

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps.

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster.

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were.

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable.

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?”

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!”

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you.

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?”

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other.

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached.

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!”

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about.

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out?

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too.

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes.

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace.

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control.

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours.

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread.

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years?

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years.

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free.

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life.

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world.

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that?

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?”

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you.

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat.

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?”

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again.

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.”

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it.

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t.

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers.

“But what the fuck is this?”

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end.

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care.

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault?

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it.

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha.

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part.

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good.

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end.

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you.

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right?

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it.

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will.

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done.

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like.

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world.

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much.

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you.

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen?

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you,

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook.

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process.

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown.

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you.

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again.

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not.

And he was the only one to blame.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk

#bts x reader #bangtan x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction

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merrock · 3 years ago

Photo

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Laura Harrier

full name: Adelaide Atkins Savoy

nickname(s): Addie, Ads

pronouns & gender: She/her, cis woman

sexuality: Pansexual

birth date: July 7th

birth place: Peachtree, Georgia

time in town: 9 years

housing: The Coast & Pier (she lives in a little and homey beach house)

occupation: Inn keeper @ gull’s landing

family: Younger sibling, surname Atkins (mid twenties)

personality: Without a doubt, the mom friend. Always carries medicine and candy in her purse and is always ready to tend to people’s needs, ready to do what it takes to make those around her smile. An artist at heart, Adelaide paints, sculpts and even makes some of her own clothes if she ever finds the time and inspiration strikes. A loving friend, sister and partner, loves unconditionally and strongly. A caring soul for those around her, from her sibling, the one person she cares the most about in the world to the wounded animals she sometimes houses, every human being is worth her time. However, she can be quite chameleonic, a mirrorball of sorts; whatever energy you bring into her life will be reflected back to you. can be quite deceiving and closed off, especially about her past life before her time in town. She is sharp, even though people don’t think she is because they write her off as a “southern belle” type, but what most people don’t know is she can be cunning whenever she sets her mind on it, she learned from a very young age how to take advantage of everything she had to get what she had her mind settled on.

BACKGROUND / BIO

Trigger warnings: Mentions of child neglect and arson.

Adelaide Atkins Savoy is the daughter of Edward Atkins, a salesman/conn man and Ann Savoy, a French teacher that came from a (somewhat) nobel family. The couple met in Peachtree, Georgia where Ann moved when she was twenty after meeting Edward in a vacation and not a year later, Adelaide was born. The family immediately moved back to France to be closer to the Savoy; time Edward took advantage of by making business with the nobel family. Their association worked for a while and the Atkins and the Savoys lived happily for five incredible years in Évian-les-Bains until, the Savoy patriarch, Ann’s father, discovered Edward had been stealing from him and decided to exile the Atkin-Savoys and send them to the United States. Not wanting to leave Ann and Adelaide uncared for, the Savoy patriarch bought the little family a wonderful and luxurious home in Peachtree and put it all on Adelaide’s name and even got Ann and Edward decent jobs to start off a new, accommodated life.

Adelaide’s childhood in Georgia was odd, to say the very least. Her parents still acted like they were sponsored by the Savoys (and with the housing/jobs Addie’s grandpa got them, there was no reason to doubt them) so they fit perfectly with Georgia’s finest, they were living a double life of sorts, socialites in debt who schemed their wealthiest friends without them knowing. Her parents promptly got Addie to work alongside them, either as a distraction or as an active asset in their plans and she couldn’t quite deny her skills to them alas, Addie did stuff she wasn’t proud of, illegal stuff she could get away with because no one suspected the little girl with the ponytails. Ann would dress Adelaide in the best clothes, they’d eat at the finer restaurants and lavish on the good life money could buy them, the Atkins family was thriving in America and, certainly, the spirits only elevated higher when Ann gave the family the greatest piece of news Adelaide had ever received: she was pregnant with their second child.

Ann and Edward were content with their little family for about four blissful years where the four of them truly acted like a loving family who had overcome the trials and tribulations of debt and financial instability. However once the family started to have financial problems once again (unbeknownst to all their high society friends, of course), Adelaide and her young sibling were left to their own devices; leaving a thirteen years old Addie to raise her little sibling and the two formed an unbreakable bond very quickly. Ann noticed this and used their bond to convince Adelaide to get back into the business of conning and scamming, claiming all they did was to grant the youngest of the two siblings a better future than their own and wanting nothing but the best for her sibling (and being brainwashed from a very young age into thinking what her parents did wasn’t as bad as it truly was), Adelaide obliged.

Addie’s teenage years were even odder than her childhood. Although learned many skills during her time helping her parents to scam people: pick locking, html, pickpocketing, boxing, sewing (which served the young woman well when her parents decided to stop buying their kids new clothes when needed claiming they didn’t have enough money to waste on clothes for their kids and she started making them for the two of them instead), whatever her parents required of her and whatever she could learn to make sure her sibling was well taken care of, she’d learn. The next years were difficult for the Atkin siblings, to say the least. The worst instance of their parents neglecting both Addie and Theodore happened right after Teddy turned seven. Their friends and all the high end society in Georgia found out about how the couple had played a bunch of them in some business that went awry for everyone involved except Ann and Edward and the Atkins family lost all respect within the community which costed them their jobs and status, so they quickly started to go in debt with banks and strangers to try to live the life Ann and Edward were so used to. By this time, the matrimony had mostly forgotten their kids to the point where they stopped providing for them unless they needed Adelaide for some job, so it was all Addie’s responsibility to not only care for her sibling but her parents somehow. She started working (an honest job) when she was fifteen and never truly stopped. Adelaide’s normal day would be divided between high school, taking care of her sibling and working to bring food to the table.

When Addie was seventeen, a little less than a year before graduating from high school and while all rest of her classmates were too preoccupied thinking of summer jobs, college applications and prom, Adelaide’s scheming family forced a secret down her throat: they were in debt, about to pronounce themselves bankrupt and needed to act quick and play their last viable card, insurance fraud and the quickest, easiest way to do that was to burn their house down and use the insurance money to pay off their debts. For weeks, Addie circumnavigated her viable options to stop her parents’ scheme, finding every outcome to be disastrous for all parts involved at best and, in all outcomes, there was the small chance of losing her sibling, something she couldn’t allow herself to do and alas, she followed along with her parents’ plan, not without saving a few vital items on a friend’s house and various places around town in complete secrecy. When the day arrived, her parents only gave her a 24 hours warning before destroying everything Adelaide had ever known and exactly at 2:45 a.m on a March night, Adelaide took her sibling with her after watching their childhood home burn down and decided to leave Peachtree to never look back with the help of her closest friend. Within a couple of days, the two Atkins siblings were situated in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her sibling lost only a couple of days of school while Addie never went back again, as she had to work to sustain herself and the little one.

They remained in Chattanooga for a little less than two years where Adelaide managed to get up to three jobs to meet ends and make sure her baby sibling had everything he needed in order to prosper and thrive and although the Atkins siblings were safe and perhaps the happiest they had ever been; Adelaide knew it was only a matter of time before her parents decided to look for them and alas, she decided the best she could do was always be a step ahead, change locations. In the span of two years, the Atkins moved to eight different cities until, after turning 20, a friend convinced Addie to give her testimony (and all the proof she had gathered that backed up the claim that the fire had been premeditated) and she put her parents in jail for arson and child neglect and helped the authorities form a case against them on insurance fraud, gaining her sibling’s full custody and whatever money was left from the insurance payment and they decided to move to New Orleans, where they remained from three years. After working as a waitress/bartender/cook/whatever she could get to make a living for her and her sibling, Addie got a letter from the Savoy family one day with the news that their grandfather (the same one that had bought their home in Georgia) had passed away and had left behind a trust fund for her, enough money for the two siblings to live off comfortably for the rest of their lives.

When Adelaide turned 24, the Atkins siblings decided it was the moment to look for a new home, a more permanent one. Both of them decided in Merrock, Maine when they saw a little and charming beach home on an ad and fell in love with it; a week later they were already moved in. The two adapted to Merrock pretty quickly, finding the peaceful life they always craved. The eldest found a job in Gull’s Landing as a maid, slowly climbing up the hierarchy until she finally became the keeper of the Inn.

Cage Newman waltzed into Adelaide’s life like a typhoon at full force a few years into moving to town; she found herself falling in love almost instantly and the couple married not long after. However, the marriage didn’t last long— irreconcilable differences were cited on the divorce papers; leaving Addie heartbroken. And yet, she persevered, continued now that her younger sibling was out of the house continuing their education, she decided to do the same; taking courses and test to finally graduate from high school after years of dragging her past along. Now, she is taking night classes in Business, hoping to one day open her very own Inn.

#merrockbio #adelaideatkins #arson tw #child neglect tw

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years ago

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12 Days of Christmas - [Day 4]

A/N: Day number 4 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. This one’s almost 6k words. I loved writing this and I hope you like it too. It’s cheesy and cutesy and maybe cliché but it’s Christmas so idgaf. ENJOY ♥

Prompt: Snowed in together.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

“I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.”

It happens, every once in a while, that you read a sentence in a book that you’ve read a hundred, maybe a million times before and it suddenly hits you like a punch straight to your gut. Because it’s different now. The book has stayed the same all through the seasons but you realize, you’re a whole new person who’s been through a whole new set of trials and tribulations. And all of a sudden you understand.

I slump back into the cold, sticky plastic of the bright blue seat and clutch my beat up copy of Catcher in the Rye closer to me. I face the huge windows, looking out into the black of the night and the airplanes, firmly rooted on the ground. There’s a heavy downfall of snow and no sign of it stopping anytime soon.

Maybe, I realize, this is my reckoning. Isn’t this what I’ve been wishing for ? A white Christmas like the one from the songs and the movies ?

Well merry fucking Christmas, (Y/N).

Every snowflake is a sick reminder of what could have been. Of what isn’t.

I let my eyes travel around the area. Rows and rows of blue plastic seats. There’s not a lot of people waiting around here. I assume most people have flown home a few days ago to make it in time for Christmas and the few that weren’t smart enough to do that, have resorted to some bar or a restaurant or something.

In theory, I could do that too. The thing is, spending Christmas eve by myself in an airport restaurant, would just seal the deal for this being the most depressing and downright sad Christmas of my whole life.

So I stay seated and lose myself in Holden Caulfield's delightful pretentiousness.

They’re playing Christmas music from a nearby speaker. I wonder if they want to taunt me. Me and everyone else stuck in a fucking snowstorm on Christmas Eve in god damn Indianapolis. They even have a tree set up and where it should make people happy, it only makes me even more sad. I wanna be home with my family, decorating my own tree with all the weird and quirky ornaments we’ve collected over the years. They all come with their own stories and it fills my heart with bittersweet nostalgia.

I’ve never known what being homesick feels like until tonight.

Again my eyes move along the rows of plastic seats. There’s a man in a sharp suit a few rows down. He’s got neatly combed hair and a red tie and shiny shoes and a face that says “ My name is Michael and I don’t allow anyone to call me by a nickname and I have an important job and I drive an expensive car and I probably fuck my secretary. “

It’s not a face you particularly want to look at. Except maybe if you’re said secretary.

A family of 3 sits by the end of the row. They seem — at peace. And for a moment I wish I could be them. I guess it’s different being stuck if you’re stuck with the people you love.

It makes me bitter to think about it so I avert my eyes and let them travel down the other side of rows. Which turns out to be no better for my mental state because there’s a couple there and they do not seem to care that an airport terminal is not the ideal place for some serious tongue action.

Across from them sits a guy, he’s got a mean mullet. Strands and strands of golden curls. He’s wearing a leather jacket and big black boots and there’s a deep scowl permanently edged onto his face. If he’s aiming for the whole bad boy vibe, he’s really nailing it.

I can see him shaking his head, as he too notices the couple getting awfully touchy, and I can’t suppress a laugh.

He notices and he looks at me and even across two whole rows of plastic seats I can see just how gorgeously blue his eyes are.

He doesn’t laugh or smirk or does anything to give me any indication of his feelings. Maybe I’m grateful for it. Maybe I wish he would. It would be quite nice to make a connection with someone right now. Just to make being alone feel a little less lonely.

“ the snow's comin' down

(Christmas) I'm watchin' it fall

(Christmas) lots of people around

(Christmas) baby, please come home”

It’s quite ironic, really,that they would chose this damn song. Of all the Christmas songs in all of the world.

Mullet boy seems to be a kindred spirit in this regard, I can see him sigh and murmur a “for fucks sake” into to collar of his jacket, as he sinks deeper into the chair.

“They’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like Christmas at all. “

Yeah it really fucking isn’t.

A smacking of lips catches my attention and I focus back on the couple just to witness the guy’s hand travel straight under the sweater of his girlfriend. It’s a sight I don’t particularly want to see.

A sight that apparently makes my face screw up in aversion. And as it does, old blue eyes looks back at me and this time, I see a smirk. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared but I know for a fact that it was there. Maybe I don’t have to be all that lonely after all.

I close the bruised and battered orange book that, at this point, is hardly orange anymore, and place it in my backpack. If my life was a John Hughes movie or maybe any other romantic comedy, I’d get off my seat and walk over. There’d be some cheesy some playing in the background, maybe by the Smiths. I would throw him a smile and he’d look at me, an angel’s choir singing wonderous melodies. And tonight would change both our lives forever.

Alas my life is not a movie that Morrissey wrote any songs about. I am a coward and my heart already lies in several little pieces at my feet. So I don’t walk over just like that with no idea what to say, no incentive.

Instead I grab my backpack and walk past him, down a long corridor and end up at a vending machine that sells both, coffee and soup and I secretly pray that they don't come from the same jet.

The last coffee I had, I think as the warm liquid fills the paper cup, I bought at the little cart by Kelvin’s dorm room. It was a good coffee, had Hazelnut sirup in it. I remember the warmth of it in my hand. I remember the taste on my tongue. I vividly remember the sound of the cup hitting the floor and the stains on my pants and the feeling of my heart as it broke in two.

I don’t want to remember that though, so I will myself to ignore it. To push the thoughts away. I fill the second cup, grab it, put lids on them and then carry them back towards the row of seats.

Mullet boy doesn’t as much as glance at me as I drop down in the seat next to him. Only shows me that he notices me as I hold one of the coffee cups out to him.

“ Sorry it’s not booze. I know that would make looking at these two a little more entertaining. “

For a second he just looks at me in confusion, contemplates whether or not to trust me. In the end he takes the drink so I take that for a good sign.

“ Thanks. “

His voice is deep and raspy and I really really like the way it sounds.

“ I wonder if they even realize there’s other people around “ I say, watching the dude’s hand travel down the girls back, as they dreamily blink at each other like the main characters on a romance novel. Maybe those two get the romance and the the Smith song in the background. Maybe I’m just a sad side character in their story.

Mullet boy scoffs, takes a sip of coffee then speaks up. “ Don’t even think they’d notice if we joined in “.

He smirks at that. There’s an absolute underappreciation for people who laugh at their own jokes. I think it’s charming, endearing even. If you can’t laugh at your own joke, how do you expect anyone else to do it.

“ Least they’re not alone on Christmas fucking eve “

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t necessarily want to share my sob story. Sometimes my words just move faster than my head does.

“ Christmas is overrated anyway “ blue eyes says and shrugs his shoulders in a way that’s supposed to look casual. Only you can’t say shit like “Christmas is overrated” and be casual about it. There’s always more to a statement like that.

“ You think ? “

“ I know. “

“ How come ? “

He turns to face me and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. It’s like he’s straight from the cover of one of my mom’s romance novels. I think it’s quite unfair that he gets to look like this on a day like today and I — I look just the way I feel. Sad. Exhausted.

“ It’s none of your business. “

“ Oh geez, and here I was thinking we were bonding over our shared distaste for PDA. Guess not. “

“ You guessed right. “

For a moment, we fall into silence as another song plays over the stereo that has entirely too many obnoxious jingle bells in the backing track. For a moment I feel very lonely again.

It’s then, that the universe seems to have pity on me. It sends me a sign. A gift. A little Christmas miracle if you will.

That comes in the form of the couple getting more touchy, more — obnoxious. So obnoxious that the girl leans back, presumably to lay on the seats, only that’s not what happens. It seems to happen in slow motion when really it’s probably only the blink of an eye. She leans back and back and back and suddenly tumbles off the seats and onto the cold linoleum floor, her mister holding onto her so tightly, he falls right down with her.

My mama always told me not to laugh at other people’s misfortune. But at 18 years of age, I feel it’s time to break some rules my mama set. And this is one of them.

I can’t help it. I laugh. It comes from the deepest corner of my belly and fills my entire being. Then I catch those gorgeous blue eyes looking at my and I notice he’s laughing too. A hearty laugh. I think it’s a good one. No halfway laugh. No bullshitting. It’s a proper laugh and, as we lock eyes, our laughter only seems to increase.

The magic bubble that, until now, has surrounded the couple, seems to have been popped. It’s vanished. For them at least. Because as our laughter rings in unison, a proper harmony of joy, I feel like maybe me and mullet boy have been given a tiny spark of magic ourselves.

“ I’m (Y/N), by the way “ I say, trying to hold in more chuckles.

“ Billy ”

“ No no, you got it all wrong. His name is Michael and he’s on a business trip that he tells his wife he couldn’t postpone but actually he just wanted to get away from his family for the holidays. “

“ Michael ? nah. This dude’s not a Michael. “

“ So what’s his name then, Billy ? “

He thinks for a moment, face scrunched up in a way that is absolutely adorable. It makes him look way younger than he probably is. Very boy-ish. Very cute.

“ Edward “

“ Edward ? “

“ Yes. Look at him, he looks so boring. And can you think of a more boring name than fucking Edward ? “

I have to admit, he has a point. So I shrug and nod. “ You have a point. “

The little family from earlier, passes us and, as the mom glances towards us, her eye linger on Billy just a moment too long for it to be accidental. And he notices, the cocky bastard. He notices and revels in it, letting the corner of his lips lift up in a teasing smirk.

“ What the fuck was that ? “ I asked, flattened by the sheer audacity for both of them.

“ I got that effect on women of all ages. “

“ Wow, your ego is really tiny, huh. “

When he looks at me, grin widening and eye filling with mischief, I know I just said the wrong thing. I set myself up with this one, I admit that.

“ That’s the only thing tiny about me. “

“ Aaaand that’s my cue to leave. “ I pull myself halfway out of my seat when his arm shoots out and his hand grabs onto mine. The mischief in his eyes in gone, completely replaced by a pure and unfiltered honesty.

“ Stay. Please. “

I sink back down and we fall into a silence. He knows that I saw it in his eyes, the fear of being left alone and I know that he knows and so we’re stuck in this weird limbo of whether to ignore it or spill our sorrows to one another. And maybe it’s because today is Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth, even if it to a stranger at an airport, but he suddenly breaks the silence and starts talking.

“ I don’t wanna be alone. “

“ Yeah me neither. “

“ I uh — I was supposed to be in California, to visit my mom over Christmas. I haven’t seen her in — in years. This was supposed to be our first Christmas together since I was 8. I called her earlier, from the payphone. I thought she might be devastated. She’s not. I don’t think she cares very much if I’m there or not. I’m still debating whether or not I wanna get on the plane if it ever goes. “

“ I came to visit my boyfriend for Christmas. Surprise him, you know. He’s going to college here in Indiana. We’re both from California and we haven’t seen each other since the summer. I thought It was the ultimate proof of my love to him. Well — turns out he’s been fucking his way around campus while I’ve been busy making plans on how to rearrange my life and all my dreams, to come study with him in Indiana after I graduate High School. “

Another silence fills our hearts but this one isn’t thick with anticipation and tension. It’s one that settles deep in our bones as we realize, that sometimes there’s comfort in shared misery.

“ Merry fucking Christmas to us. “ Billy murmures.

“ Do you wanna go see if we can get a drink at the bar ? “

“ That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while. “

“ I can not believe your fake ID says you’re name’s Ricky Hardman. “

“ If you’re mocking me I can just drink this myself, you know. “

“ Oh come on. It’s just — that sounds like such a porn name. “

“ So what. “

I have to snort at his complete lack of self reflection. He knows I’m right but he’s so stubborn. Again I find myself thinking it’s endearing rather than annoying.

To come back to a statement I made earlier, I also think we don’t appreciate the people enough, that make us snort-laugh. Is it a bit embarrassing and cringy? Sure but it’s a laugh either way and I don’t think we should ever take that for granted.

“ Put the cups down so I can spice it up a little bit “ Billy instructs me and I do as he says. This is probably our 4th refill of coffee for the night, my mom would have a go at me for all the caffeine but whatever.

Billy opens the bottle of booze he just purchased at the airport store and pour us both a decent amount into our coffees. Might as well have our own little Christmas celebration if we’re stuck here with nothing else to do.

Cups clutched in our hands we roam around the airport, cheeks warming up from the alcohol. I feel more at peace now and yet my heart is ever as heavy with the longing to be home.

A sign directs us towards the visitors terrace where families usually gather to watch the planes take off and land. It’s deserted now but that’s not really a surprise. It’s cold, it’s snowing and there’s no flights going anyway. It’s just a dark, snowy night and a lonely runway illuminated by small lights that, if you believe hard enough, almost look like fairy lights in the distance.

“ I know it looks pretty, “ I say as I lean against the banister of the terrace “ but I really don’t find snow all that great.”

“ I fucking sucks, “ Billy replies. “ It’s cold and wet and turns into gray slosh in the matter of a few minutes. “

“ I always dreamed of a white Christmas, now I can’t wait to never see snow again. “

“ Me too. I hate it. Snow. Indiana. At least you get to stay in California once you make it there. I have to wait until graduation to finally move back home. “

I don’t want to pry, I really don’t but there’s something about him that intrigues me. Everything he says and does in scrowded in some kind of mystery. Some hidden meaning in all of it.

The way he looks and the way his words hold a certain softness to them, is a whole enigma in itself.

“ You wanna come back to Cali ? “

“ Fuck yes. I can’t stay here longer than I need to. I miss the sun and the beach and — my home. “

“ Oh god yes, the beach. “

“ See, and you wanted to give up on all of that for a guy called Kelvin. “

“ I — he’s nice.”

“ Oh I’m sure he is. And secure and smart. “

“ He is. We’ve been together since my sophomore year in Highschool. He was my first — everything. He studies business and is gonna take over his dad’s company one day. “

Billy blows a raspberry before turning to me with his perfect eyebrow raised in mockery.

“ That is so dull. “

“ It’s not “

“ But it is ! Tell me honestly, do you really love this guy or is it just — comfortable. Being with him ? “

And once again, something that I’ve considered so many times in my life, suddenly affects me in a completely different way than I am used to. I understand all of a sudden.

I get it.

“ I mean, maybe you have a point. What makes you the relationship expert though ? “

“ Nothing. I’m not saying I am. But I know I never plan on spending my whole life with someone because I am comfortable with them. It’s your goddamn life, you should live it for yourself. “

It hits me light a freight train. Straight in the heart. He’s right. Whether I want to admit it or not, Billy is right. I don’t let him know that though, it’s hard enough admitting it to myself. I think he knows anyway, by the way I look at him. By the way he looks at me.

“ Have you decided whether or not you wanna get on the flight ? “ I ask. It’s still not my place to ask those questions but it feels like something has shifted between us. Like tonight is ours entirely. A night of truths. Of heart opened and unguarded.

“ The alternative is spending Christmas with my dad and his wife and my stepsister. “

“ Sounds alright to me. “

“ Yeah, only my dad is the biggest asshole on the planet. He’s not a nice guy. His wife is a fucking nutcase, obeying his every will. She has the backbone of a jellyfish. And Max — Max hates me. That one’s my fault though. “

I want to hug him. It’s a strong urge that overcomes me. A sudden rush. His words are soft and sad and frustrated and I can see in his eyes just how much this hurts him. And god, it’s Christmas Eve. I just want to make him feel a little less alone.

So I do. I hug him, rest my head on his shoulder and together we look at the snow falling around us, covering the world in a thick white frosty blanket.

“ I’m sorry about that. Just so you know though, I’m glad we’re stuck here together. “

“ Well yeah, I’m hot and fun and I have great hair. “

“ Oh there we go again with the ego. “ I laugh. He makes me me laugh. Like genuinely laugh. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this around Kelvin.

“ What’s that book you’ve been reading. “ Billy asks as the laughter settles down again.

“ Catcher in the Rye. It’s one of my favorites. “

“ Uh-huh. What’s it about ?”

“ This boy, Holden. He gets kicked out of prep school and runs of to New York City and yeah it basically chronicles his days in NYC. It’s about loss of innocence and isolation. “

“ Sounds absolutely — “

“ Wonderful “

“ Boring. “

Here’s the thing about interests and hobbies. They’re a very personal, very individual experience. They’re yours. And yes, maybe it’s nice to share your passions with another person who feels the same. But let’s be honest: It doesn’t really matter. I am not hurt by Billy’s disinterest. Not even by his mocking scoff. Because it in no way lessens my love for the book. The story it tells and the nostalgia it brings me.

It also doesn’t lessen the affection growing inside me, towards Billy. An affection that both scares and excites me at the same time. By all means, it is delusional to fall for a stranger at an airport, who doesn’t even live in the same state as me. Someone I’ve only spent a few hours with.

Then again, life is never a straight path. I used to think it was but after tonight, maybe I can let myself take some backroads. Take a road less traveled. See where it leads me and if it brings me to a dead end, turn around and try again.

Maybe sometimes it needs a boy with a leather jacket and gorgeous blue eyes, to make you realize that life can be so much more if you just let yourself live it.

“ Okay sure. What are your interests then ? I’m sure there’s something you like doing, something you care about. “

“ My car. “

“ That’s such a guy answer. “

“ Pff, whatever. “

“ What else ? “

He takes a moment to answer. Contemplates. Mulls his answer over in his head. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since he talked about his mom earlier tonight.

“ Music. “

“ Music ?”

“ I really care about music. Not — not playing it but just music in itself. You can’t tell anyone this, okay ? It’s a bit ridiculous and It’s not really realistic, but I would love to work at a record label. Or maybe have my own music venue. To help discover bands and find new, awesome music. Whenever I’m sad or angry or frustrated, or even happy, there’s a specific songs for any emotion, any situation. I want everyone to be able to have that in their life. “

There’s something undeniably sexy about someone being passionate about something. He only just started but I could honestly listen to Billy talk about music for hours and hours and hours.

“ So who’s your favorite band then ? “

“ I’ll sound pretentious as fuck but my favorites are probably some local bands from my hometown in California. “

“ Maybe when you’re back home after graduation, you can take me to a gig. Show me some of those bands. “

My heart beats faster as I realize this is the first time either of us has mentioned there being a future. More than just one magical night at the airport.

It slipped out but I’m glad it did. The idea of more nights together, more time spent listening to him talk about his music. Experiencing that music with him. It doesn’t scare me. In fact, it excites me so much.

“ Yeah. Sounds like a plan. “

“ A good plan. “

“ A great plan. “

I don’t know if he notices that I notice, but his hand drops to the small of my back, so gently it’s but a whisper of a touch. It warms me up more than our boozy coffee ever managed to.

Airports have a weird energy. A specific mood that transcends through every corner in every room. It’s loaded with the arrival of change. It might be good and exciting or it might be sad. But something is about to change and you can feel it sizzling in the air.

As I stand next to Billy in the softly falling snow, I know that the girl that arrived at the airport earlier today, heartbroken and without purpose, is not the same girl that’s gonna get on that flight home. Something has changed. I think I like this new girl better.

“ They’re singing deck the halls … “

“ Oh Jesus, what is it with this fucking song ? “

“ What, you don’t like it ? “

“ Do you ? “

“ Totally “

I don’t know what hits me. Maybe it’s the fact that the future is so awfully unknown. I don’t know if after tonight I will ever see Billy again. Or maybe because it’s Christmas.

Or maybe because I’m a little drunk and half in love.

But I start to dance and sing along. With the snow falling down on me. Snowflakes dropping onto my hair and melting, leaving it wet and streaky. But it doesn’t matter right then. All that matter is the music and the night and him and I.

“ Come dance with me. “

“ I don’t dance. “

“ It’s Christmas Eve, Billy. It’s my Christmas wish. Come on. There’s no one around. “

Here’s some piece of advice from me to you: If you’ve never had a guy in a leather jacket and biker boots twirl you around while the snow is falling and Christmas songs play over the stereo, then you’re missing out.

Billy’s hand is warm, his smile is gentle. It’s all so vastly different from the way I felt when touching Kelvin. Everything that comes with Billy is an enigma, a surprise. Nothing is certain and yet I am sure that I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.

The last chord of the song echoes through the night as Billy pulls me close to him, I can see his breath in the cold, accumulating in little clouds. I can feel his skin in mine.

“ You’re gonna get on that flight, Billy Hargrove. “ I say, my voice but a sigh. A whisper

“ I’m gonna get on the flight. I’m gonna graduate and then come back to California. Permanently this time. I’ll find you and take you to all the underground clubs and show you all my favorite bands. And I’ll even listen to you talk about your books. “

“ Even if you think they’re boring. “

“ Uh-huh. “

“ Hey Billy. “

“ Hmm ? “

“ I think I wanna write a book. I think that’s what I want to do with my life. “

He’s so close now, our noses touching, our breaths touching, our lips touching. Warm and soft and gentle.

“ Write about us, so you don’t forget me. “

I kiss him then. Or he kisses me. I don’t know for sure but really what does it matter. In the grand scheme of things it’s irrelevant who initiated the kiss. It matters that it happened. And by god I will never be able to forget this kiss or the boy that gave it to me.

“ Dear passengers, we are delighted to announce that the runway has been cleared. The sky is blue and free of any downfall. Flights will resume shortly. More information about departure times will be available shortly. Feel free to turn to our staff for guidance or additional information.

“ Billy. Hey, Billy. “ I say, and shake him awake. He looks so peaceful and boyish while sleeping, it breaks my heart a little to interrupt his sleep.

“ Hmm.. ? “

“ I think our flights are gonna go soon. Snow’s stopped. “

“ Oh. “

I don’t have to ask to know what he’s feeling. What he wants to say. “ Oh. this is it for us. “

We gather our stuff, stretch our limbs and get off the uncomfortable plastic seats. The board on the wall shows us that our flights go in just two hours. His to San Diego, mine to LA.

Our time is numbered and we finally have an expiration date. My heart breaks once again though this time I try to hold onto the fact that we both want a future of whatever it is we’re sharing. Even if it’s just a friendship, I want Billy Hargrove in my life.

“ Hey uh — “ Billy speaks up and takes my hand in his “ let’s make a deal. “

“ What deal ? “

“ To see each other again. Maybe — maybe next Christmas Eve. “

“ Where ? “

“ I don’t know. Let me — let me come to you. “

“ Santa Monica pier. “

“ Okay sure. “

“ Cool. “

He kisses me again and this one too, will stay with me forever. In my heart and in my head.

“ Here I’ll give you my phone number. Call me if anything changes. If my dad answers just ignore his stupid comments “ He says, fumbles around in his backpack and come up with a pen and — a cassette tape ?!

“ Something to remember me by “ he points out as he scribbles his number onto the little slip of paper. “ Some of my favorite songs on there. “

“ If you give me something, let me give you something too. “ I say and pull out my old worn out copy of Catcher in the Rye, scribble a message on the first page, then hand it to him.

“ There’s a bunch of notes in the margins. I never got to share them with anyone, I’ll gladly share them with you. “

Then I kiss him. Again and again and again, until it’s all I can think about and all I can feel.

“ Flight 207 to LAX boarding now. “

And that is it for us, at least for now. The magic of last night is broken. It’s Christmas Eve gone, replaced by Christmas day. No snowstorm. No magic. Just the brutal truth that real life awaits.

So we part. With more kisses and a promise.

“ Until next Christmas. “

The plane is already high up in the air when Billy Hargrove pulls the book from his pocket. It’s old and worn out and what looks like it used to be orange once upon a time is now a washed out beige.

He opens it up to the first page and can’t suppress a smile. A real one. Not one of those he fakes for his dad and susann. A real smile that reaches his eyes. One he feels in his heart.

“ Meet me at the Merry-Go-Round! “

His heart soars as he thinks about next year. A future that suddenly looks much brighter than ever before.

There’s a lot of notes and scribbles and highlighted sentences. He skims through it until one passage catches his attention.

“ Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do. “

And so he thinks back to the overly touchy couple and their magnificent tumble from the plastic seats. And he remembers her laugh and his ringing up in unison.

He understands. That Holden guy has a point. Maybe it’s worth reading the book after all.

A year later.

I’m rushing through the crowd of people, a vibrant clementine sky the backdrop for my misery. God, why can I never be on time.

My heart hammers in my chest. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

His eyes meet mine across the way as he leans against the banister by the Merry-Go-Round and I feel like I am back at the airport. The magic is back.

“ Sorry I am late. I am so so sorry. “ I say and can’t help myself but pull him into a kiss. One filled with passion and longing and a promise kept.

“ Ah If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late. “ He replies.

“ You read the book. “

“ I read the book and all your notes. “

“ That’s good, I uh — have something else for you to read. “

It’s a bundle of papers, no cover art or fancy pictures on the front page. All it says in big bold letters is “ A white Christmas - a story of girl meets boy. “ I hand it to Billy and he looks at me in confusion.

“What’s that ? “

“ That’s the first draft of my book. “

“ You wrote it! “

“ You believed I could so I did. “

“ What’s it about ? “

“ Oh you know, just a girl and a boy and a magical night at the airport. Lots of snow. Lots of kissing. Little bit of magic. “

“ Can’t wait to read it. So, you wanna go see a band ? “

“ They any good ? “

“ Pretty fucking good!”

Darlene Love’s voice echoes through the stereo and for the first time I have to disagree. This feels like Christmas more than any moment before ever did.

And my baby is finally home.

Taglist; [I copied this from @mattysheelies and just added a few new ones, if you wanna be added or deleted from the taglist please let me know]

@sebastiansloserclub ; @killer-queen-xo ; @william-hargroves ; @billysgodcomplex ; @daisyxbuckley ; @allabouthargrove ; @mcrmarvelloki ; @charmed-asylum ; @1998--js ; @naiomiwinchester ; @hargrovesprincess ; @mystrangerfics ; @teafrompari ; @staybruuutal ; @colourado ; @higher-further-faster-bb ; @ayybtch ; @carlaangel86 ; @baebee35

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #12dayswriting

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inviouswriting · 5 years ago

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Marriage

Some of my pairing. I need a name for their ship almost.

“Let us get married today!” Kiya is taken aback by the sudden prompting from Aymeric. She was getting ready for the day, and he had been with her in the morning. Aymeric watched her as she moved about her private room at Ala Mihgo. After their victory of winning Ala Mihgo, he feels more compelled. The timing feels right..

“Aymeric? You mean now? Er… today?” He had closed the distance and winds his arms around her at her waist.

“Yes, now, yes today. Everyone is here. We could have a small ceremony by the end of the day.” Kiya looks up at him, a blush on her face, she feels his thumb press over her cheek tracing the tinge of pink.

“I thought you had wanted an Ishgardian wedding?” She checks to see if he still wants that, but her hands itch to seal herself to him. They would be able to without delay. The women of the Eorzean Alliance would be more than happy to perform a ceremony.

“We can still have one for the people. What I desire, is you. I do not think I can go another day without you bound to me.” He leans down to press his forehead to hers seconds away from a kiss.

“Please say yes..” He uses that look in his eyes. The one that makes her weak in her knees.

“Aymeric... you know I will love to. We should while there is peace and cause for celebration.” She agrees, the look on his face brightens even more. He leans in and places a kiss on her lips.

“Then we will be married by the end of this day.” Aymeric presses his hands at the small of her back. Just ilms from her tail, and she feels like she is being allowed something. Gloved hands cups her face and another kiss delicate on her lips.

“I cannot wait then.” Kiya smiles in his hands and he lets go to begin the last minute preparations.

“Pray give me time to tell the others. I wonder how fast they can put together things. Even by campfire I will be happy.” His tone soft, and she smiles warm at him.

“I think that would make it my favorite. It will be us as equals over fancy titles or big extravagant gala. It is you and me.” She catches his smile, and nod before he slips out of her room.

Her hands go to her face the moment she is alone, she had agreed to be married to Aymeric by the end of the day. She didn’t have a dress for it, nor anything white. She worries that her not being a virgin anymore will prove a problem. She should be fine since it was Aymeric who took it.

A few hours later and Kiya is standing nervous across from Aymeric, she is dressed in a ornate dress that had been dyed white in place of the normal black she had it. Her hands fidget with her hair. The decorations sparse as the spot is in the royal menagerie, in the center. It was a perfect spot for a quick wedding. Close friends in a circle around them.

Kiya holds his hands in her own, feeling sheepish, but all fears and nerves are quelled with that soft gaze Aymeric gives her. She does not regret this choice, she moves closer as the ceremony takes place. Nanamo, and Kan-E-Senna officiate it.

“Do you two have vows you wish to say here?” Kan-E-Senna asks them, and Aymeric clears his throat and nods.

“I have known you ere long now. Kiya, from before I met you, I was enraptured by your stories, how I had wished to have known the woman behind the titles. Now I do. I will never forget all the trials and tribulations we went through. How you have saved mine own very life. I confess I never thought I would have found my soulmate in you. I am even more honored to be joined with you now as an equal. As your love for life and beyond. Kiya, I am yours eternal.” Aymeric could see her expression change as he spoke, surprise, loving, and endearing with tears dotting the edges of her green eyes. Kiya smiles at him and it is her turn to speak.

“My love, Aymeric. You have stayed with me through all the hardships.. those we lost, those we gained. You been with me even as I felt failures, and stayed my hand with kindness and love. When you asked me to marry today, I felt elated that our ceremony is as unplanned as life, but it fits us. No fancy titles, none of that high noble. Just you and me. I have chosen you as my love for life. As you have chosen me. Aymeric, even I did not expect us to fall in love like this. I am grateful every day that I am with you. I am yours eternal.” It is her turn to see his face light up in love and soften at her words. His love shines through his eyes towards her. This ceremony is the right one, sporadic and simple. How they have known their life together.

“Then it is with great honor that we seal you two for eternity and beyond. As equals, as love and love. Husband to wife. Wife to husband.” Nanamo smiles as she finishes and nods to Aymeric who without a second delay gives his love a full kiss, dipping her back.

Clapping to be heard and soft cheers. Kiya returns Aymeric’s kiss in full gripping onto him for life. When they part from their kiss, they feel overwhelmed in it as they had taken their first kiss as married lovers instead of dating.

Aymeric lifts Kiya into his arms as they look at their friends who regard them with warm smiles.

The walk from the palace to the town felt long, Kiya leans against Aymeric watching as the townsfolk are fast to create a reception. Some already dancing and celebrating the happiness. Kiya is tugged along with Aymeric’s hand down to where the dancing is and pulls her into one.

The event into the night, she doesn’t forget how everyone seems so at peace and grateful for a celebration of love. Seeing light back in a city that needed joy. By the end of the night Kiya has spent the rest in Aymeric’s arms, they snuck off back to her room to enjoy some quiet and enjoy each other.

She feels his hands on her bare shoulders, well satisfied and content to be in his arms. Aymeric placing kisses on her face, attempting to rouse her again, she is more than eager.

Their happiness only the start of their life.

The only thing she can’t resist now, is the way he looks at her with emotions unrestrained in those icy blue eyes.

She doesn’t seem to mind either. Who could resist when he looks so endearing.

#aymeric x kiya #aymeric #ser aymeric #aymeric de borel #I wanted to write this for a while now #I'll get back to drabbles soon. I have been having long days at work so here is something I can manage

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winterisakiller · 5 years ago

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Get Better - Chapter One

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 1/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do. This story will update on Thursdays.

Tag list: @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @nonsensicalobsessions @blacksuitofdoom @noplacelikehome77 @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @wolfsmom1 @just-the-hiddles @theoneanna

CHAPTER ONE

The breeze ruffling through his hair as he walked down the busy London pavements was wonderfully cool; something Tom Hiddleston was infinitely grateful for. While it wasn’t a particularly scorching day for mid-August by any standard, it was still quite warm for London and any relief at all was welcome. As he meandered, Tom found himself watching the people around him as they passed. Most paid him little mind or, if they did, only muttered quietly under their breath but made no effort to approach him. It was a marked difference from the previous few years, and a welcomed one. True, there was still the occasional paparazzo or bold fan, but it was nothing like it had been in recent years. And he was grateful for the relative anonymity.

He’d been surprised, but happy, when Ben had called out of the blue the week before, trying to arrange a time for the two of them to get together and ‘catch up’. Which, as Tom had come to learn, meant Ben had wanted nothing more than to grill him about his life and then try to fix it. Tom adored the man but he was a mother hen in the absolute worst way; settling down and having children only made it worse. It had been several months since they’d had the chance to truly sit and reconnect in a non-work related setting and, though he knew it would probably regret giving Ben the platform in which to undertake said interrogation, Tom was quick to agree. Finding the time however, took a fair bit of maneuvering.

Tom slowed his pace as the familiar house came into view. He smiled as he buzzed the gate, noting how a small cash of toys including a red plastic tricycle had started to take over the front garden. It was a comforting and domestic sign and it fit his friend’s life to a tee. Ben’s garbled voice echoed from the small speaker and a moment later the gate clicked open. Tom quickly made his way up the walk and towards the opened front door where Ben now stood, his eldest clinging to his leg, small blonde head peeking out from behind the tall form of his father.

For a moment Tom was struck dumb by the sight. He could so clearly remember the utter joy and disbelief in Ben’s voice when he called to announce that Sophie had given birth. “A boy, Tom. I have a son.” It was nearly impossible to reconcile the tiny infant that had been placed in his arms a few days after that call with the small boy before him. He would be three now. Three? How had three years passed already?

Crouching down on his heels, Tom smiled at the boy now at eye level. “Hello there, little man. You’ve grown quite a bit haven’t you?”

The boy blinked at Tom and then up at his father before running back into the house. Ben sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. He’s been going through this shy phase as of late. Usually, you can’t get him to stop wanting to say ‘hello’ to everyone.”

Tom shrugged and pushed himself back up right, “My niece went through something similar. I get it.” He took Ben’s outstretched hand and pulled him into a one armed hug. “It’s good to see you, mate. How have you been?”

Ben chuckled as he closed the door and led them towards the living room. “Can’t complain overly much. I’ve got a fair bit of free time before I start filming so I’m trying to enjoy as much time as I can here with this lot.”

A loud cry echoed from the living room as they approached and moments later a slightly harried Sophie emerged carrying her squirming and fussy youngest son. She smiled brightly as she caught sight of Tom. “Well hello stranger!”

Tom’s face broke into an echoing smile and he moved to pull Sophie into a brief embrace, kissing her softly on the cheek. “Hello you. And don’t tell me this is…” Tom paused, eyes widening, as Sophie nodded. “He can’t be this big already!”

Both Sophie and Ben laughed at this. “He’s almost a year now. Time certainly seems to fly,” she sighed before turning to look at her husband. “Alright, I’m off. You boys have fun and remember if you need a break, you’re more than welcome to join me and our little terrors at the park.”

Balancing her youngest son against one hip, bending down to take her eldest son’s hand as he materialized at her side at the word ‘park’, which he then repeated loudly before launching into an explosion of words about the swings and the slide and all the activities he wanted to do. Sophie smiled indulgently at him and headed towards the front door, pausing to kiss Ben as she did so. Tom saw her grab a bag that had been left by the door, something he’d missed on his own way inside, and in a flurry of noise disappear from the house.

“Ah…Silence,” Ben exhaled with a quiet laugh, turning towards Tom. “I love them dearly, honestly I do. But I do admit that there are times I miss silence.”

“Now that I can believe,” Tom agreed with a smirk “And I’ve often heard my sisters’ make very similar remarks...” Causing both men to laugh and shake their heads. After several moments silence, he clapped his hands together. “So I do believe I was promised lunch…”

Which earned him an exaggerated eye roll. “I see how it is, Hiddleston. And I must say I am genuinely hurt to hear that my company ranks beneath food for you. If only your fans could see you now; gentleman, my left foot.”

Tom only shrugged in response. “I’m a man of simple needs.”

Lunch was a causal affair; Ben had thrown together a handful of sandwiches and various sides under the watchful eyes of his wife and the greedy hands of his eldest. They sat at the scarred wooden table in the kitchen and traded stories, catching up on the last few months of each other’s lives. Tom found himself relaxed and content in Ben’s company. They so rarely got the chance to do such things; work and the everyday happenings of life taking up so much of their time.

Ben rambled in his usual fashion about his latest filming experience and the trials and tribulations of being a father to two young boys. He joked about the latest project he was in talks for and the drawing his eldest had made him, “He swears up and down it’s a cat, but for the life of me I cannot see it.”

The drawing in question hung on the fridge held up with two cheery yellow magnets. And no matter how Tom squinted at it, he couldn’t make out what the squiggly blob was either and told him so. Ben laughed and shook his head.

“So what’s new in the life of the infamous Tom Hiddleston?” Ben inquired with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Tom leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “I’ve got a few conventions scheduled in the States,” he paused and rubbed his over his beard in thought. “And a couple fun one off theater activities…And potentially a play if things continue to fall into place. So quite a bit actually. Which is nice. I’ve been starting to get rather antsy of late.”

Ben nodded. “Now that I can understand all too well.” He leaned forward and smiled at Tom in the way that always meant trouble. “And anything happening in the non-working vein, my friend?” And there it was, the long awaited subtle-not-so-subtle pry into his personal life. He’d known it was coming. It always did. But he’d remained ever hopeful Ben would let it slide. Just once. Alas, today was not to be that day.

“You’re lack of subtlety never ceases to astound me,” Tom chuckled, resting his elbows on the table. Ben merely shrugged and leaned back, shooting Tom a knowing look. They sat in silence for several moments before Tom let out a resigned sigh and admitted, “Nothing of note.”

He had been on a few one off dates and more than a few ‘my friend knows this wonderful girl I think you’d really get on with’. They were, as a rule of thumb, lovely people and quite a few Tom had genuinely liked, but in the end nothing seemed to stick. It had been disheartening, but not at all surprising. His life, even now when things had calmed significantly, had made anything beyond casual difficult to maintain. And he’d learned the hard way trying to force something only ended in disaster.

“What about that one girl…Hannah, was it? You seemed to get on fine with her…”

Tom shrugged, “Hollie, actually. And it fizzled out.” He leaned back in his own chair, running his hand over his eyes. She’d been a charming woman and they’d gotten on well, but she’d had…expectations of his time that he hadn’t been able to meet. His schedule, while very much slowed, still kept him relatively busy and had cut into time with Hollie, something she had not appreciated. So they had parted ways after a handful of weeks. “Sometimes I wonder if any of it is actually worth the effort.”

“Stuff and nonsense. You and I both know you don’t believe that for a moment.”

“Just because things worked for you doesn’t make it so across the board,” Tom pointed out, taking a long swallow from his bottle of water. “Not everyone in our line of work gets so lucky. I’ve been home more now in the last few years than I have for most of my adult life, which is all well and good. But as a general rule, my life isn’t exactly settled and nor is it easy. And I don’t know too many non-industry women who’d be perfectly content to be with a bloke who’s rarely home or one whose life is picked apart and therefore puts their own into that domain.” He shrugged, placing his bottle back onto the table. “That just leaves fellow actors and the like and I’ve had more than enough experience with how that can go wrong to want to subject myself or any potential partner to that any time soon.”

Ben grimaced. “Things weren’t ever really going to work with that relationship and I think you knew that from the start.”

Tom opened his mouth to deny Ben’s words but quickly let it fall shut. That relationship was over long before it had really gotten the chance to start. But his own stubbornness and determination hadn’t let him walk away. He’d known shortly after their initial meeting that this thing that had sparked between them would never work. But he’d perused it anyway, blindly seeking something real. It had been a reaction to Amy’s wedding, to seeing her happy and settled and wanting that so desperately for himself. He knew that now, but then…He’d let himself it caught up in the rush of emotion and hadn’t paused once to really think what he was doing. And it had ended just as quickly as it had begun and just as publicly.

He’d dealt with the confused stares and the whispered conversations from friends and family alike. Dealt with the backlash and the blatant mocking and ridicule of the press and from the fan base. It was a reaction he hadn’t expected and at first didn’t know how to handle. And looking back, Tom wondered just how he’d navigated through it all and come out as unscathed as he had.

Ben leaned forward and rested his hand on Tom’s forearm. “I get that you’re a fair bit jaded and not exactly convinced, but don’t simply write it off. The most spectacular things happen when you least expect them to. Look at me. I’d known Sophie for years. We’d cross paths and almost dance around each other but nothing ever came of it. Until it did. And it’s been wonderful.” Tom quirked an eyebrow and Ben paused and laughed. “I’m not saying it’s been easy because lord knows it’s been trying at times, but I wouldn’t change any of it for the world.” He clapped Tom on the shoulder. “It’ll happen, mate. Just give it time.”

Tom shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’ve never known you to be a pessimist, my friend.”

Tom shook his head, “Not pessimism, more trying to be realistic about it.” He waved off Ben’s protestations. “It’s fine, honestly. I’ve got a pretty decent life going, if I do say so myself. And if something ever does happen…Well that would be grand, but I’m not waiting with baited breath over it either.”

Ben simply shrugged and the matter had been dropped. Tom had let himself sit, idly talking with Ben for another hour; only taking his leave when Sophie and the boys had returned in mass, both little ones tired and cranky from their adventures. Sophie had stuck her head into the kitchen on her way upstairs to settle the children down for their afternoon nap, “I see my darling husband hasn’t scared you off just yet.”

Tom laughed heartily, “Nah, takes more than a bit of nosing about to send me running for the hills. But,” he started, stretching as he stood from the table. “It is about time I was off. Bobby’s been in the back garden and I really should check and make sure he’s not dug himself to China or ruined the flowering bushes…Again.” Both Ben and Sophie laughed. “I will see you lot, later then?” The nodded their ascent and Tom made his way out the front door and back into the pleasantly sunny and warm London afternoon.

The walk home had been just as uneventful as the walk there had been, allowing him time to mull over his talk with Ben. It was the same thing, just with slightly different wrapping around it, and while he knew his friend meant well, talking only made the differences in their respective lives all the more apparent. Tom let out a long sigh of frustration as he turned onto his street, determined to put it out of his mind. There were far too many things needing settled in his life to even contemplate any of that. He managed to smile and wave at one of his neighbors as he climbed his front stairs, unlocking and pushing in the black lacquered front door. The foyer was markedly cool and the sudden temperature change sent a shiver down his spine.

Bobby, thankfully, hadn’t dug up the back garden. The spaniel, thrilled at both his master’s return and the prospect of going back into the house, had jumped and barked like mad, running in tight little circles around Tom’s feet before dashing inside. Tom laughed despite himself. His life, though not quite how he’d pictured it, was decent and more than fulfilling. So it wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x orignal character #get better fic #Tom and Cath

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winterisakillerwrites · 5 years ago

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Get Better - Chapter One

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 1/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen

CHAPTER ONE

Crouching down on his heels, Tom smiled at the boy now at eye level. “Hello there, little man. You’ve grown quite a bit haven’t you?”

“Ah…Silence,” Ben exhaled with a quiet laugh, turning towards Tom. “I love them dearly, honestly I do. But I do admit that there are times I miss silence.”

“Now that I can believe,” Tom agreed with a smirk “And I’ve often heard my sisters’ make very similar remarks…” Causing both men to laugh and shake their heads. After several moments silence, he clapped his hands together. “So I do believe I was promised lunch…”

Tom only shrugged in response. “I’m a man of simple needs.”

“So what’s new in the life of the infamous Tom Hiddleston?” Ben inquired with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“What about that one girl…Hannah, was it? You seemed to get on fine with her…”

“Stuff and nonsense. You and I both know you don’t believe that for a moment.”

Ben grimaced. “Things weren’t ever really going to work with that relationship and I think you knew that from the start.”

Tom shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’ve never known you to be a pessimist, my friend.”

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Cath #Get Better

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miqojak · 5 years ago

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Searching (1)

She’d gone around the camp, showing the sketch of the girl to the various residents; no one knew who this girl was. No one had ever seen her.

One woman in particular sat before a pair of crates that served as her table, covered in an old, dusty blanket woven in traditional Ala Mhigan style. She waved the Miqo’te closer, “Sit, girl.” She was old, but not old enough to be a wrinkled old crone - perhaps a mother, either now, or at some point previously. She’d been beautiful at one time; though the signs of age and time tugged on her features now, crow’s feet and laugh lines a testament to both trials, and tribulations. For Jak’s part, she sighed - and sat - that strange stone still gripped in the palm of her hand, where its pulse beat in time with her own. Things couldn’t get any weirder than a ghost girl giving her what was, ostensibly, a soul crystal? She’d heard of such things, but the circumstances were beyond abnormal. Supernatural things didn’t happen to J’kesri - only visceral, wrenching things. The matronly woman shook her head at the sight of the diminutive Miqo’te, “I’ve seen you looking for something the last couple days.” She gestures to the cards set before her, before holding up a long finger at the ruffian’s protest that doesn’t quite meet her lips. “Sit, and listen. You don’t have to take it seriously, but you could use a break. And some water.” She offers over her own skin of water, as two cards, side by side, are laid out - the first of them flipped. “It doesn’t hurt to listen, ay? Ten of scepters. A powerful woman, trapped beneath choking vines that threaten to tear her apart - her weapon is a spear, and it glows with the fire that drives her. You’re feeling....blocked. Repressed. Halted - wounded, as she is, but far from defeated.” The calico peers across the makeshift table, at the red-haired woman depicted on the card, slashing at the wall of thorned vines.

“You fight for each small gain, every step a struggle - “ The woman’s words brought the child’s words to mind, and her skin prickled. "Don't spare the energy just layin' around here, Miss Tiger-hair. You've got places to get to. Places you need to be. You might need that energy to claw and scrape and drag yourself there. And maybe, if you get there, you'll feel it."

What kind of fucked up supernatural shit was going on in Little Ala Mhigo? She sat in stupefied silence, intent on the woman’s words. “Her body shows the wounds of the fight, yet her hair flows deep and burnished like the lust of blood. She attempts to raise herself above the briars with steely determination, expression one of intense concentration - her victory foretold by the blazing of the spearhead. This, this energy becomes the foundation of the power that fills her with aggressive, blazing force...making her even more determined to succeed.” A dark-skinned finger taps the card, “Persevere, girl. Your fire isn’t out yet. Remember, however, that you need not let irrational fear or self-delusion constrict you - perhaps you are the one who grew those briars, and binds this primordial feminine energy within you.” Here, she points to that mask in the corner of the card, as if to indicate that this is exactly what that wooden mask represents. “Whatever hurt you before, you continue to let it. You restrict your essential, instinctive passion. Bind it too tightly, for too long, and it will erupt of its own accord - and beware, when that fire is loosed. Violent eruption serves no one; fire burns, whether you want it to, or not. Control the flames, lest they control you.” With neither pomp, nor circumstance, she turns the card to the right of that fierce woman who struggles for freedom, “The second card is in the shadow aspect. You struggle, and are bound to succeed in freeing yourself...but the shadow aspect presents what struggles you yet face...in The Moon. I thought as much.”

The head of that spear reminded her of the crystal in her palm - warm to the touch, pulsing with her heartbeat, its core like a fire. ‘Persevere,’ the woman said.

Let the fire out, came the thought after.

#my writing #tarot #Phantasmagoria #vampyre deck #ic reading #I actually pulled cards #and look #they are so on point #dark tarot #light and shadow aspects #no reversed cards #rp #ala mhigo #little ala mhigo #superstition #advice #part one #long post

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thinkofduty · 6 years ago

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[ crusade ]

The tiring room is quiet and dark as Orella moves through it. It's strange to have the Vista so uninhabited; it never occurred to her that its actors and playwrights might actually spend time away from the room where their life's work lies. And yet she can't help but feel as though she is not alone; perhaps it is the silent footsteps belonging to whatever shade Lamont is, or just the apprehension of being trapped aboard a Garlean vessel, but she cannot shake the feeling that she is being stalked through the night.

Still, she is no stranger to the darkness, and the longer she wanders the more she feels as though she has begun a journey winding into its bowels, never to surface again, as though she is being dragged down to the world's core. It's so much - too much, even; she feels as though she might stagger, might trip and fall and then the world will close in around her, crushing, all consuming--

In the end, she does stumble, but only because of an errant paper that she hadn't seen in the dark of night. It slides from under her foot and she goes down with it, growling, and she takes the time to scrunch the paper up and hurl it as hard as she can behind her. It passes through Lamont, who appears not to notice it, and lands ineffectually upon the ground. "Bastard," she whispers, for she knows what beasts stir in the night, and does not wish to rouse them.

But there is someone else there tonight, sitting quietly and calmly in the darkness. If one were to see her, they would think she was in deep meditation. But she held a stone in her hand, and she communicated with it as she did her Cluster - quietly, in her head, with none the wiser. She usually did this in the cargo bay in the underbelly of the Prima Vista. But she hid like a rat no longer. There was work to be done.

“And who might you be calling a bastard in this hour of night?” Linini called to the figure in the darkness, opening her eyes. Her eyes had long since adjusted, and she could make out a much taller figure that she suspected as one of the Riskbreakers.

Orella stops like a chocobo skidding to a halt - immediately, muscles tense, eyes trying to make sense of the world in front of her. She scans the darkness for whomever would creep up on her, but her gaze meets nothing. It's almost as if the darkness itself is trying to blind her.

"Whoever deserves to be called one," she says back, voice steady despite her confusion. "Who cowers in the night, out of bed? Show yourself."

“I am not cowering,” she said, bringing a candle to a lantern to light it. “Not today. It is just easier to see what you - and others - are in the dark, when you think nobody is watching. You’re the one called Steelhand, aren’t you? I don’t think we have been properly acquainted. I am Linini Lini, though most just call me Lini.” She pauses for a moment. “Is your stone keeping you awake?”

"... Aye," Orella allows, and crosses her arms as she looks over the tiny lady. The flame only steals her attention for a short moment, but the darkness suddenly seems more inviting than the oppressive fire, burning wretchedly, and she must tear her eyes away. Still, the comment gives her pause; precious few people, less than a handful, know of her stone. For this one to know, despite the foreign face, is... nothing less of suspicious. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says. "Must I need a reason to go walking?"

Lini sighs, disappointed. “I suppose I was mistaken. I figured most of the Riskbreakers had stones by now.” She saw the way Orella looked at the flame. “Would you like to go above deck? I’ve found that the troupe’s stage gives quite a lovely view of the stars. I could show you how to get there. No one is like to be there this time of night.”

"By all means," says Orella. In truth, she'd been avoiding the deck since she first boarded, wary of the wind, precarious as it always has been even half a world away. It was ferocious on the Lochs, and no less violent across the ocean-- but she cannot help but feel that no matter the strength of any gust, she will be safely rooted to the floor beneath her. She isn't sure what makes her think that, but any strength is better than none, even if only a thought. "Lead the way."

Linini leads Orella to the lift, up several levels and down two winding hallways where the airship crew worked more than the troupe did. A mechanical door yawns open, the wind whipping at both of their hair and clothes. Lini kept her back to Orella the whole way, confident and unafraid, but turned to her once they were outside. “It just occurred to me. You are scarcely wearing anything, won’t you be cold?” Lini, of course, is wearing heavier leathers.

It's true: the wind is cold, whipping around the two of them despite the airship's motionlessness. Still, the air is clean, devoid of the mechanical scent of the engine room, or the paint and paper of the tiring room, and it's almost welcome, though goosebumps raise on her flesh almost immediately. Orella simply shrugs. "I'll be fine," she says, though she knows she won't be. Ingvald will be pissed when she climbs back into bed to leech off his heat, but that will be a problem for the future. His problem, at that.

And as she cranes her neck to look at the stars, she realises that she recognises only a few of the constellations, and those closer to the horizon. Kugane, Dalmasca: they truly are a world away from all she knows. Briefly, she wonders how she would fare if she was dropped here, made to find her way home alone. But she knows the answer: she would not last.

Lini joins her in looking up at the sky. She spots Azionne gliding past her, eyes on Orella as if on the hunt, watching her while Lini’s gaze was elsewhere. She had been with Lini the entire walk up to the deck. “So how has this journey been treating you? It is certainly one of the Riskbreakers’ most dangerous quests yet, to my understanding.”

Orella doesn't pull her gaze from the sky, trying to make sense of what stars she can see. If she squints, perhaps that's the Destroyer, perhaps that is Kugane tower, perhaps that... a crab? "... Hm," she allows, and thinks about the question honestly. "It's a pain in the ass, but work like this always is. I think liberating Ala Mhigo was more taxing, personally." But then, she had been directly involved in that. There have been too many Garleans here for her to want to participate overmuch. She tears her eyes from the sky to glance down at Lini again, wondering just what it would take for that short stature to bear down upon her. Just... in case. "And you? I have not seen you on skirmish before. Or even around the Sandsea."

“I wasn’t quite as involved in the liberation of Ala Mhigo as I’d have liked to be,” Lini admitted. “I fought in smaller skirmishes throughout the region of Gyr Abania while half our company was abroad, guarding supply trains on behalf of the Resistance and aiding in the effort after that disaster after Rhalgr’s Reach. But I did fight to free the city itself.” Her eyes wander to Azionne’s phantom, pacing in front of them, eyes on Orella. “But I have been a resident of the Sandsea for some time now. I generally spend my time in my chambers, or patrolling the Goblet.” She takes a deep breath. “But this journey... our trials and tribulations have been greater than anything I could have expected. I was excited in the beginning, in truth. I was oft told stories of Dalmasca by my mother. My blade is even Dalmascan in origin,” she says, putting a hand on the hilt to indicate it. “It was not as I imagined. So much death. So much destruction. And so many people to put to justice.”

Orella nods at Lini's explanation of her past whereabouts, and simply listens to the rest. At the corner of her eye, she sees Lamont again and must turn her face away to ignore him; she cannot be distracted, should not let herself be distracted. It has already taken a toll on her.

Still, she cannot find it within herself to be impressed, or to feign the feeling. "It's like that everywhere," she says, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Dalmasca, Ala Mhigo - hells, I'd wager even the Sharlayans built their land on the backs of the broken." and she shrugs, as though that affects her not at all. "The world is filled to the brim with the darkness of man. And we press ever on."

Lini crosses her arms. “I know. I am no stranger to injustice. I’ve been a victim of it right home in Ul’dah. How do you press on, in spite of that darkness?” She continues looking at the stars, away from Orella.

She doesn't even need to think about it. "With effort," she says simply. Honestly. "With wariness. With uncertainty. But what other option is there?"

Lini looks down at her palms, then away from the stars and Azionne and straight to Orella. “We’ve discovered another option,” Lini said. “The stones. They give us the strength to keep fighting. To keep bringing justice where justice is due.”

"Is that what you think they are." and it isn't a question; Orella understands that Lini speaks her mind truthfully, from the heart. "There's no tool great enough for that undertaking," she adds, before Lini can interrupt or cut across her. "No sword, no stone, no shield that can raise justice so high." Rubbing her hands against her arms, trying to will the gooseflesh to warm, she can't help but scowl. "There is no justice but what you make," she adds, just a touch softer, though her scowl remains. "And one cannot make justice without power. And that," she says decisively, "Is that what stones have brought the Riskbreakers."

Lini gives her a scowl of her own. “Power, then,” she says. After a moment, she adds, “And when the time comes, I hope the Riskbreakers aren’t too weak to use it. We’ve been given a wonderful gift, and I’ll not see our company squander it.”

Orella snorts, rubs her arms again. "And what exactly would you hope the power was used for?"

Lini spreads her arms out. “The liberation of Dalmasca, of course. the power to crush our enemies. Freedom to its people. Freedom to... Ivalice.”

Remembering her spat with Ingvald, Orella frowns at the mention of Dalmasca. She finds she couldn't care less about the city with every passing moment: even the very mention of it is enough to have her heart beat wildly in her chest. And she thinks, well, perhaps it would be better off destroyed, then, and does not notice when Lamont steps close enough to her to touch her hand.

"Freedom," she grits out, and she cannot think why the concept makes her so mad. "There's no such thing as freedom."

Lini tilts her head. “Are your people not free? What did we fight for in Ala Mhigo then?”

"Hells if I know," Orella growls, nails digging into her arm so hard she'll leave marks behind. "To give them the freedom to choose another despot to live under, sooner or later, most like. Free. Ala Mhigo isn't free. Dalmasca will never be free. Anyone thinking otherwise is deluded. The darkness takes and takes and gives naught back, and that is the way of it."

When she turns her back to Lini, intent on storming off the deck to find somewhere else to stand that isn't quite as exposed, she can't help but notice Lamont's eyes, this close- flooded black, deep enough she can taste the power on the air.

"Take it," he hisses at her, and lifts his hand from hers. "Take it and do what's right."

Azionne sees the difference in Orella at once and whispers in Lini’s ear. “She has a stone.”

“You are certain?” Lini asks aloud. “I have no intention of attacking my unarmed and unarmored comrades without good reason. The scales will tip too far in my favor, and I cannot fight in the name of justice.” Even so, she draws her sword, Ayvuir Blue.

The wind chooses a convenient time to pick up and obfuscate Lini's words; the most Orella hears is attacking.... in the name of justice, and it's enough to spur her to grab for Lamont's hand, for the darkness he offers her.

All at once it surges through her like flame, burning brighter than the sparks that fell to earth during the Calamity, and she turns to face Lini once again, muscles tense, back ramrod straight. She makes to lift her hand to the hilt of the sword that typically rests upon her back, but not finding it there does not seem to dissuade her overmuch; instead her fingers tighten around where the hilt would be, and she pulls a sword into being, holds it out, point facing Lini unwaveringly.

It doesn't seem... real. It seems to be made of the all-consuming night, so dark all light seems to be drawn into it, and almost insubstantial but for the way Orella's muscle strains to hold it up.

"Do so at your peril," she warns. "I will pull you down with me."

So too does Lini draw upon the power of Exodus, her leather armor growing crests of gold. Twisting horns extend from her shoulders of equal length, and her blade glows with aether. She thrusts her sword forward, casting two Scathe spells that launch from the blade before rushing forward to clash against Orella.

“I am the Authority,” said Lini. “And I judge you unworthy of wielding the auracite’s power!”

Orella watches as the transformation takes hold of Lini, and for a moment she wonders is the selfsame happening to me? but no time, no time, hisses Lamont in her ear. Almost on instinct she lifts her hand and feels the very air ripple around her fist; no familiarity does she have with magicks, and cannot tell astral from umbral, gravitation from attraction, but she knows that what she does has power imbued into it.

Both Scathe spells twist toward her hand instead of her body, and she barely notices the sting as they make contact, and while she might be startled at the concept of casting magick for her own, her body knows the battlefield better than her mind. Her blade of darkness, split almost as a crab's claw, comes up and holds fast with the other's blade firmly pressed against it, and looks down into the all-knowing eyes of the Judge-Sal.

"I may be unworthy," she says, and twists the blade she wields roughly to push Linini away, only to clench her free fist once more, trying to call that same gravitational power to the fore once more, "But I will continue to stand so long as darkness fills my heart."

“Darkness,” says a deep voice, most certainly not the Lalafell’s, though it spills from her mouth. “Gravity... Thou art the Condemner.” Pushed away, Lini uses the opportunity to raise both hands. She speaks again, and again her voice changes - this one higher, impetuous, yet almost singsong. “Darkness magic, you say? Exodus, I daresay it is my turn to enter the fray.” She gestures her hand toward Orella. “I, Azionne Melisandre, Sorceress of the Riskbreakers, challenge you now,” she says. She holds her sword high, her left hand next to it, channeling a spell. “Flare.” The aether shifts, condensing inward around Orella before exploding in a burst of magic.

The foreign aether on the air makes Orella flinch instinctively. The shadowblade she'd summoned forth is more reminiscent of the one-handers she used to wield in the days before leaving Ala Mhigo, and even months of using only a greatsword has not been enough to break her of the habit of raising her shield-arm when it's free. It doesn't work for her this time; she has no guard this time, only bare flesh, and she smells the spell hitting before she feels it. And oh, it's pain beyond anything even the Garleans had visited upon her. It sears like the midday Thanalan sun beating down on the desert sands, makes galaxies bloom behind her eyelids, makes the blood roar in her ears so loudly she cannot tell whether she is screaming or not.

It hurts, but it will take more than simple hurts to break the soldier from her spine. At least the night's air bothers her no longer, and she readies the not-quite blade in her hand, grips it tighter and bellows as she charges toward her quarry.

Something within Lini, within Azionne, gives her just a moment of hesitation, but the sight of a shadow blade swinging over her head and the urging of Exodus leads her to dive away from the blow. She retaliates with her sword, and now she is Lini again, shouting out as she swings away at Orella with a magically imbued blade.

Ever the assailant, Orella does not let up in her attack, mindful of where her feet are. The best advice she'd ever been given was that the best defence is a good offense, and she presses that now: meeting Linini's blade full on with enough force that her arm all the way to the elbow rings, and knows - faintly, somewhere in the back of her mind - that the other woman's arm will feel much the same. Still, her bladework is sloppy, guided by instinct and anger alone, and her swings are wider, wilder, than they otherwise would or should be.

"Yield," she growls harshly, and her throat hurts with the effort. "Yield! Let the darkness take thee," she speaks, in a voice that is not her own, and grated through a sore throat. "Lay down thy blade, Exodus, and give in."

Lini’s arm does indeed ring with the impact, as the Highlander woman is much stronger than her, even with all of her power. But she does not relent, swinging with all of her strength. She notices how wide Orella’s strikes swing, using that to her advantage. Where she lacks in brute strength she has speed that seems almost inhuman.

“I cannot rest, Zeromus. I shall not. The scales have been tipped; to not act would be to bring oblivion unto us all. Nay, ‘tis thee who must yield,” she says, once again in a deep voice that is neither Lini nor Azionne. “For I am the arbiter, the Authority. And thou art lacking.”

The thing that is Zeromus tilts its head as though curious. "I wouldst know how arbitration fell to thee," it speaks, and lifts its claw-blade of darkness as if admiring it... or perhaps holding it aloft, an executioner's blade. "Tell me: by whose hands do the death-bells toll? By the Judge's? Or by the one whom hast committed to the Beyond?"

The expression on Orella's face turns firm. "Thou hast no dominion over me," it warns. "Do not push me to ring those selfsame bells now for thee. Yield."

“T’was charged to me and me alone,” it says, running Lini’s hand down its blade. “By the gods, as is known. Our Lady bid me also. The executioner’s bell rings only for thee this night.” Lini flips backward, hovering in midair for a moment, and casts yet another Scathe spell - not the paltry imitation cast by thaumaturges, but the Scathe magick of eld, a beam of light and power directed right at Orella. As powerful as it is, the spell left Lini tired. As much as the power of Exodus and Azionne filled her, her body was not used to harnessing such powerful magicks.

Recognising the eldritch manner of magick coming its way, the auracite's demon lifts Orella's burnt arm, ignoring the effort the mortal body requires to make such a movement. It is nothing to the creature to clench a fist, no matter how ruined, and call upon the power of Gravity.

The feeling of the counterspell it casts is almost indescribable; as though a great force is pulling from further away than the eye can see. It hovers in the air thickly, like oil poured into water, before it begins to sink to the floor, where it joins with the decking to create what looks like a dark pool. It is not so, however, and Lini's aether finds itself drawn to it, falling to the depths of the well like a stone casually thrown. The pool remains once it has partaken of the Scathe, a great divide between the two, and Zeromus' host grows pale with the effort of all this aether.

"Alas," it intones. "Thine spells and mine force are evenly matched. What say’st thee, Exodus? Doth we fight on? Or dost the name of our Lady bid us make peace?”

“Balance. I had not thought us equal in power, but it seems it is so. Shall we leave it to our hosts to tip the scales?”

Orella's head is tilted in acquiescence. "This one has harboured the darkness for much longer than before the auracite came to it. Dost thou wish thine host to crumble so soon?"

Lini lowers her sword. “This host has long harbored the light of justice in her breast. She will not falter.” And with that, the otherworldly presence is gone. The golden spikes disappear from her shoulders and the light dims in her blade. “I will prevail,” she says in her own voice. “For the good of Ivalice. For the Riskbreakers. For my Cluster.”

“And since you lack your sword...” Lini drops Ayvuir Blue, letting it clatter to the floor. “I will fight you fairly. My hand to hand skills do not compare to Edge’s, but I will fight my hardest.”

As the light leaves Linini, so too does the darkness from Orella. The blade of darkness Zeromus had called forth dissipates like smoke on the wind, and as it returns to whence it came, the full pain of the flare Orella had caught with her bare flesh hits. She seems not to hear Linini, clutching at her arm and roaring loud enough for her voice to break once more, the feeling unlike any she'd felt before. Not even Garlean torture had exacted such agony on her, and that had itself been long enough ago that the thought was more a nightmare than a memory now.

With every gust of wind she feels the heat of the injury rise and ebb, a veritable tide of torment that she cannot shield herself from, and it is all she can do not to fall to her knees wretchedly. "Y-you," she manages, voice a harsh whisper from the screams. "What is it you want? The auracite? Take the fucker," she manages.

When she pulls her hand away to fish in the meagre pocket of her sleeping trous, it comes away unbloodied, but the skin seems for a moment like it might peel, might crack and stretch - but no, it only burns, and burns, and burns.

The Cancer stone itself itself is a pretty jewel, split almost to the middle, and looks like it glints even in the starlight. Orella holds it aloft for a moment, looking at it so deeply, with such emotion writ clearly over her face, and then at once she hurls it with as much might as she can manage. It skitters across the decking, comes to a lame halt a good three fulms from Linini's feet, and she watches whatever Lamont is disappear in turn.

“A wise choice,” said Lini, stepping forward to go pick it up. She picks up her treasured sword right after. “I am sorry it had to come to this. Truly.” She points her sword into the sky, light gathering around her like a veil, and she casts a spell of healing upon Orella. “It isn’t much, but I hope it offers you some succor.”

She turns her back to Orella. “I cannot face the Riskbreakers now, can I? Not after that. I am afraid to run off like some common thief into the night, but I think that is my only course of action now. I hope one day we can meet again, Orella.”

She feels a powerful weight descend on her after she picks up Orella’s auracite, its darkness a stark contrast to any light she normally bears, but stiffens her shoulders. It is a burden, surely, but one to be shared with the rest of the Cluster later.

Orella cannot even find energy enough to manage hatred, as had kept her alive in the cells all that time ago. The heal is balm enough to relieve her senses some, and she sinks to her knees at last, landing hard against the decking. Still, the pain is potent enough that she must clutch at her arm again, though she's relieved she no longer feels the urge to scream, for her throat is raw. But she raises her head at least, to look at the back of the lalafell, and finds she has no answers for her questions. Were it her in Linini's shoes, no doubt she would do the same thing: accept the burden of guilt and steal away before any could bear witness to her shame. It's worked for her in the past, after all.

So she cannot begrudge Linini's retreat, nor be angered at the loss of the auracite, much as she might miss Lamont's figure. Briefly, she wonders if that is who Lini will see, and decides immediately that it doesn't matter in the face of all else.

And as Linini’s footsteps grow closer as she makes to pass, Orella only bows her head, the pain too much to bear.

#p06 #linini

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recentanimenews · 3 years ago

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Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation – 22 – Home Alone

Following his extremely close brush with death by Orsted’s hand, Rudeus has a series of disturbing dreams while unconscious, which are something of a culmination of his journey and his yearning. All this time he’s not only sought to keep his beloved Eris safe and restore Ruijerd’s rep, but to return home to his family. These dreams give him a glimpse of what that might look like, but also show him his old reality of being alone in a dark, cluttered room, only to be impaled once more by Orsted.

He awakes to find Eris dozing peacefully beside him as usual, and Ruijerd sitting by the fire keeping watch. Ruijerd is still trying to wrap his head around a Man-God and the fact the Seven Gods of ancient times are still kickin’ it. For a second, I thought Rudy was going to tell him that he came from another world. Instead, he says the Superd curse has been fading since Ruijerd shaved his head, and is all but gone; this moves Ruijerd to tears. Ruijerd!

After many travels and trials and tribulations, Dead End have come to their destination, Rudy and Eris’ home, only to find it a grey, dreary ruin, lacking all the green vitality it had before the disaster. As Rudy walks pasts spots where he, his mom, dad, Roxy and Sylphie once shared simple moments made so much more meaningful by the fact those moments are no longer possible; only in memory. Again, it feels like the series summing things up.

Now that Rudy and Eris are home, and no longer children, Rujierd declares them them as no longer needing a babysitter. He treats them like children once more by patting them on the head, then says goodbye, hoping they’ll meet again someday. It’s a perfect farewell for Ruijerd, as there’s little more he can teach Eris. Now that she and Rudy are back home in their new, more adult-ish form, it’s time for them to stand on their own, just as Ruijerd must walk on his own, after Rudy helped him take the first step.

The good news: Ghislaine is in town, as is Alphonse, both alive and well. The bad news: Eris’ family is dead. We know her gramps was executed, but her parents passed away after being teleported. Alphonse is primarily concerned with the future of the Boreas family and the fate of their lands and people. To that end, he mentions an alliance whereby Eris becomes the concubine of a neighboring lord in order to secure that future. Ghislaine is against it. Eris needs time alone…not even Rudy can stay by her side.

Later that day Rudy learns that Sylphie is among the missing, but not confirmed dead, so she’s out there somewhere. That was the first hint that his and Eris’ paths would diverge, but it didn’t come into focus until later that night when Eris visits Rudy in his tent wearing a flowing nightie. Eris mentions that she just recently turned fifteen—of age in her society—and for her birthday she wants a family. She wants Rudy to be that family; she wants them to sleep together.

Rudy hesitates, his head swimming with all the reasons he shouldn’t; Eris is feeling hopeless and needs connection; he’s not fifteen yet…but then Eris draws closer and tells him all the reasons they should, and so they do. What ensues is one of the more tasteful lovemaking scenes you can pull off considering the ages of the participants. In any case, it’s a long, long time coming, considering how much these two have come to love each other.

Alas, that night was just another dream. In the morning, Rudy only gets a few magical moments of having “gotten it made” as a normie before he realizes Eris isn’t in the bed, has chopped off her hair, and left him a note stating “You and I aren’t well-matched right now. I’m going away.” Rudy learns from Alphonse that Eris set out on a journey with Ghislaine, and told him not to tell Rudy where.

So Rudy finds himself back home, totally alone but for Alphonse, with whom he never had the closest or warmest relationship. No more Ruijerd, and more devastatingly, no more Eris, on whose proximity day and night he’d become so accustomed. He wanders the tent city aimlessly, wondering what Eris meant in her note. I suspect she meant for it to sting so he wouldn’t follow, as she has things she needs to do without him at her side to rely on.

But Rudy doesn’t know. He’s not back in his smelly apartment in Japan, but he’s just as alone now as he was then. The question is, what will he do and where will he go next? His mother and Sylphie, for instance, are still missing; does he set out alone to search for them? Does he rejoin his dad and Norn and aid their efforts?

His possibilities are as endless as the horizons of this sprawling world, but just right now he’s paralyzed with sudden, crippling loneliness—the end of one journey marks the start of a new and far more difficult one.

By: magicalchurlsukui

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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ikonislife · 7 years ago

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Little One.

-Jinhwan x Reader

-Fluff, parent au, mentions of sex

Being the eldest to 6 rowdy boys count as parenting right? Jinhwan questions himself as he stares wide eyes at the piece of black and white paper you had just handed him. His brain had suddenly decided to take a vacation leaving your poor man singing a high pitch wheeze that honestly sounds a lot like a dying cat choking on a hair ball.

"Baby... Husband? Jinhwanie? Mr. Kim?" You had half expected him to faint or scream to the God above but this stone statue vacated of a soul in place of your husband had left you utterly confuse. Shit... you thought. What if, what if your worst fear had finally come true... He didn't want the baby.

"Is this what I think it is? Is it just me or did you just said there's a 4 weeks old wee little peanut baby in your belly." Eyes surveying your face for any sign that this was some elaborated prank you pulled, a stunt to get back at him for pushing you into the pool fully clothed not too long ago at Bobby’s house warming party... But alas, all he could fine was solemn. Jinhwan chuckles dryly, a bit like a mad man talking to the air and his spirit floating about the room rather than directing the questions at you.

"I- yea..." you sigh dejectedly, your nightmare had truly become reality because why else would he be in this state of shock, of disbelief when you had been “practicing” making baby for as long as, no even way before he had called you girlfriend. How would you do it without jinhwan, does all this mean a divorce is imminent? Eyes no longer on him, you stare at your lap, finger fidgeting out of sorrow and anxiety. What would you do without him. for so long it’s just you and him against the world... Could you really handle this world alone, single with a baby in your arms? You let yourself sink further into the couch, doing your all to hold back the tear threatening to spill.

"Aww, baby girl. Was this what had been stressing you out do much? Come here, sweetheart." Jinhwan's arms already around your shivering body even before the sentence was over, hot kisses pressing delicately on your features and it seemed his soul had finally pulled itself together judging by that bright smile on his lips. "You've been picking at your nail again, haven't you?" His hands prying your clasped ones apart, finger smoothing over the redden and frayed skin around your chipped colored nails before a soothing kiss chases the discomfort away.

"Yea... are you angry? I'm sorry." Face digging deep in the crook of his neck, your heart revels in the soft passing of his gentle hand on your back and the tight hold he has around your waist.

"Why would I be angry?" Befuddlement evident across his handsome features, eyes squinting in hope of deciphering your strange question. Why would he be angry, you had just told him the best news ever yet your expression so pained then revelation hits him like a freight train. "Wait the minute... Oh my Lord, did you think I don't want our little peanut? No, baby. Don't think that." He near shriek when your words and action finally registered in his euphoric brain. “Why would you think of something so awful. You and the little one are so important to me, how could I not want either of you.” His words brought out the tears you had been trying so hard to suppress. You let all the pent up emotion go, sobbing into his chest. Jinhwan shushes your whimper with words of love and reassurance, “I will never, ever leave you or our baby. My wife is so silly.”

“I- you just frozed when I handed you the ultrasound. You went JPEG on me! I thought you didn’t want the baby or me anymore... It’s not like we’ve ever really talked about babies, I just thought it’s not time yet...” You huff out the sentence, ending it with a wail of relief but it sounded more like a dying whale if Jinhwan has to be truthful. Nevertheless, it made him smile seeing you all pouty and clingy.

“Never! I froze because I couldn’t process what you were telling me. I literally felt like I had an out of body experience. My ghost was dancing around watching me sit here like a dumb ass staring at you.” He pulls you even closer to his chest, fingers threading through your hair doing his best to calm you down with the rocking of his body. “I love you, wifey. I think you just gave me the best present in the world, I don’t know how I’m gonna ever top that. You win best spouse in this relationship.” No words could express how over the moon your man is feeling, he’s a father, a freaking father to a real baby for god’s sake. “When did you find out?” He questions, the picture of your tiny baby clutching tight in his hand as he stares in a happy stupor.

“I was late so I took a test a week ago, but I didn’t want to say anything till I was 100% certain. It was so hard hiding it with you constantly checking up on why I was so upset. I’m so sorry, now I wish I had told you sooner.” Pressing a soft kiss onto his neck, your brain could finally revel in the happy news - you’re expecting a child, with the best husband in the world, how freaking awesome is that! A dumbstruck smile on your lips as you snuggle closer to your husband, whom you dare say even more intoxicated in this joyous occasion than you are. Certainly there’ll be trial and tribulation to come in his future but for now, he’ll settle for that light buzz he got from being so blessed, from having you and your baby in his arms.

Tour had always been grueling but perhaps it had always been a bit easier when Jinhwan didn’t have anyone at home waiting for him. It used to be a blur of stumbling in and out of the dorm to pack, a quiet ride to the airport then just random shenanigans with his brothers while waiting for the flight. Sure he got to travel places, and eat foods the next ordinary Joe might not get the chance to but the long hour of practice and insane cycle of rehearsal than stage enervated whatever energy Jinhwan got to properly enjoy the rare day off he get to wander the city. Then before he knew it, it was back to the plane for another long haul home - jet lagged and exhausted.

Then like a little miracle, you crashed into his life like a little ray of sunshine he didn’t know he needed, lightening up his days just a bit more with your silliness, laughter, and the adorable little comments about everything and anything. His heart ache to part way with you even if it’s just temporarily yet the trip itself so much more tolerable knowing in the privacy of his hotel room, he had someone to vent to and laugh with about how his day had been. Late nights when he’s worn to the bones were no longer dull because he could always count on you being a video call away, waiting to lift his mood. No longer were he sleeping endlessly in his hotel room nor eat just for the sake of eating. He began to enjoy the little things in life, getting an ice cream down the street or just a walk with the other boys. Jinhwan found himself bookmarking restaurants and jotting down names of attractions, letting his imagination ran wild as he think of the gleams of excitement in your eyes when he can finally bring you to the places he loves most. Best of all, he finally had someone to share his interests and disinterest without having to worry about being embarrass. At the end of it all, he knew once he returns home, it wouldn’t be to an empty bed and the same faces he had seen all tour long. He loves his band brothers but once in awhile, Jinhwan just needed a change and you were exactly that for him. The way you danced in elation when he finally returned home after the first time paring way for a 3 weeks tour was unlike any experience he had before. You had cried for nearly 10 minutes out of missing him and finally getting to hold him again, he couldn’t say he was any better clinging onto you for the rest of that week.

With the little Peanut growing bigger everyday, Jinhwan finds it hard to even leave the house to practice or record let alone going on a long tour. It was harder and harder for him to leave you and the bump at home, even with Hanbin nagging his ears off every day to go do his job, anything at all other than adoring his baby and wife. The second work was done, he’d bolt straight home, never mind the dinner or the occasional night out drinking with the team, all Jinhwan wants was to be home singing to the Peanut and holding you close before all three of you falling asleep.

“Honey, you gotta get going... Hanbin is going to nag my ears off again if you’re late. Kim Jinhwan! I know you heard me.” You scream from the kitchen, throat sore from the half hour long wake up call he had you do on this morning, feigning ignorant and refusing to budge an inch.

“WHAT?! that little brat called you? He nagged at you? Uh uh, he’s gonna get it today.” Poor Hanbin, by the way your dear husband putting so much emphasis on the way he enunciated “nagged”, someone is about to get a spanking or at the very least pester till he cry of frustration.

“Seriously, of all the things I said, that’s all you caught? You’re late, Mr. Kim. Get, before Peanut and I kick you out of the house.” Trudging over with his duffle bag in hands, you almost faint from the ear piercing scream Jinhwan let out accompanies by the shock spreading over his face.

“Mrs. Kim, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Drop that. DROP IT!!” Jinhwan rushes over, bag yanked away from your hand before carelessly landing across the room. Jinhwan bending over, pressing light kisses on your tiny bump before pressing his whole face onto it. With arms tightening around your waist, he peers back at your cold expression completely done with his antics, sharp eyes glaring up only got sharper when he saw the absolutely nonchalant expression on your face.

“Your mama never listen to me, Peanut. Do you see what I have to put up with? Shaking my head, I told her heavy lifting isn’t good for you but she did it anyways.” Goodness, the sass in your smol man. Kneeling on the floor, Jinhwan coos at the baby that was no longer peanut sized but nevertheless the endearing nickname remained.

“You did not just say ‘shaking my head’ out loud. Seriously, baby, the bag wasn’t even that heavy. you have like 3 shirts in there. You worry too much.” Pulling him off the floor and into your arms, you exchange a sweet chaste kiss spending the last few minutes before parting way just gazing at each other. How lucky are you to be with someone so wonderful, swaying to the music only you two seem to be able to hear... well, make that three.

The world forgotten, Jinhwan lets himself get lost in your smile and the way your eyes sparkle so brightly with love even if you keep insisting that somehow you’ve turned into a rag doll after a hurricane. Finger tracing out the line of your face delicately, he thought of those single days when this seemed so impossible, to have a loving family. Then he thought of those days where shy kisses being peppered on the first few dates and feeling the force of thousands butterflies raging in his stomach. Sure your relationship with him had started out ass backward after foolishly sleeping with each other, result of a fun night with a few too many drinks. Boundaries were gone even before they were established yet after all the difficulties for you both to acknowledge you had feelings for each other, it just felt like innocent first love and first kiss all over again.

After all this times, after all the late night of cradling your worn out body in his arms while you cried on the bathroom floor from the sheer aching of morning sickness, even after all the random outburst of fury from not having enough nutella and cheetos in the house resulting in a grumpy Jinhwan braving the cold 3AM street, you still is the best woman in the world in his eyes. He hates so much when you’d whine that you’re no longer as pretty or couldn’t compete against the other wives in his friend group because Jinhwan honestly couldn’t see how. You’ve only gotten more stunning, ravishingly, astronomically prettier since Peanut decided to grace you both with his or her present.

“I love you so much, you know that baby? I only want the best for you and the little one.” Jinhwan could feel the tear threatening to spill now, it was once again like the first time leaving on tour after claiming each other hearts all those years ago. He just didn’t want to leave, simply couldn’t.

“I know. We’ll be okay, I promise.” Your hand unknowingly travels to smooth over the tiny one, a reassuring smile on your lips chasing his own to wash away the worries on his face.

He might seems cheeky and low key sassier than Junhoe but he’s the best man you’ve ever met. The past few months hadn’t been easy and you weren’t the best version of yourself with the constant hormonal mood swing but he took it all with grace and not a peep of complaint.

“I just wish the appointment wasn’t when I’m oversea. I hate the thought of you being alone... I’m so sorry, honey. I-I just, I just want to be here. I feel like I’m not doing my job.”

“But I’m not alone. I have you and I have Peanut. It’s just one appointment, baby. there’re plenty more, I’m sure of that.” Your suspicion was on the dot, Jinhwan had been lagging on packing and far more brooding over the tour because he somehow thought he’s not being a good dad by leaving you and your baby. Lips locking once more, your heart ache now that you had a glimpse of his concerned heart. You want so badly to tag along but it’d just be a distraction, and you have your own life to worry about. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll call you as soon as they get the goop off of Peanut. Plus, our moms will be there. Yeah?”

“Yea...” He replies half heartedly, sadness lingering still.

“Smile for me. Come on, let me see that fairy smile.” He forces a smile but as seconds tick by, it turns into a small genuine giggle when you poke and prod at his side. “There we go.” Your fun cut short by the nagging ringtone you had assigned to Hanbin’s number. “That should be the van. I’ll see you in a week, okay love?” Jinhwan nods before letting a lingering kiss sends him off, but not before a few soft ones on your belly.

It wasn’t until Jinhwan had sent you one last goodbye text before boarding that you let your emotion run wild - crying because you miss him, then getting angry at yourself for being so dependent. The moment he found out you were expecting, you need not lift a finger. Honestly, you were sure the queen isn’t getting treatment this good, and you doubt any servant would be as doting and adoring the way your husband is. With him gone, every little task just seemed so impossible until you just gave up and nap. Night time is even worse without his sweet singing lulling you and baby to sleep, nor was his warmth there to keep you toasty and comfortable all night long.

With much struggle, the big day had finally arrived, the day that had Jinhwan at the edge of his seat all month long. You awaken to 20 messages from your husband and the boys alike, ranging from just incoherent keyboard smash to hyperventilating in text form.

With Jinhwan being the first to get married in the group, no one is more excited for a new member of the iKon family than the rest of the boys, each showing their affection in their own way, their very own extra way if you might add. Donghyuk had claimed the spot of best uncle, declaring his love for Peanut with endless gifts, even tagging along to parenting class whenever Jinhwan couldn’t. Vying for the same title, Yunhyeong had done all the research he could, perhaps even more prepared than either you nor Jinhwan is at this whole parenting thing. At one point, the old YunDong ship had literally fought each other till near sinking because they both claimed to be the best. Little did they know, uncle Chanwoo had solidified his standing with pampering you with as much food as he could, even going as far as studying up on what food will be good for the baby, always on the look out for easier way for you to be healthy without giving up too much freedom. As expected of your food buddy after all, only he’d be worry about you having alternative to give up your favorite food in avoidance of gestational diabetes. He might be a child but for sure he’ll one day be one of the best father there ever existed one day. Hanbin had taken on the role of mother hen, nagging you to sleep, nagging you to eat, then nags you the whole way to your doctor appointment. You’re no longer allowed to be near a microwave, nor trekking across the parking lot alone without one of the boys accompanying. Strange enough, Junhoe whom usually has no part of Hanbin’s antic had also turned into a overly paranoid freak over every little thing, playing into Hanbin’s safeguard persona. Every whimper, every second your face contorted in the sheer aching of accommodating two lives in one body, He’d be right there asking all the right question and offering all the solution he could. Bobby although not taking the route of diving into books and parenting class, he was all hands on deck the moment you had announced a makeover for your house. Everything from the cot to the paint on the wall, Bobby did it himself not trusting an outsider to be handling the essentials that will nurse iKon’s “precious cargo” as he fondly refer to Peanut with that cheeky bunny smile of his.

Pushing the delightfulness of your wonderful brothers in law to the side, worrisome plaguing your mind as your car racing down the familiar streets. You didn’t hate going to the hospital without Jinhwan, you know just how hard he works for a better future for your little growing family so your heart long accepted there will be times where he won’t be there to hold your hands. Yet there’s still a lingering sadness as you walk by the waiting room, watching as women of all ages snuggling close to their significant others, their little bump happily resting in between their bodies.

“He’ll be home soon, Y/n. Don’t worry!” Your mom speaks up never once look up from filling out the many forms prepping for your future delivery, no doubt reading your worries without even needing to face you. All the while your mother in law had already got an embrace around your shoulders, pulling you close with a reassuring smile. This must be what they called mother intuition, they always seem to know what’s wrong and what’s going on long before you feel the need to voice your concerns.

“I know, mom. Just, he really wanted to be here...” Sadden smiles shared among the two women you have so much respect for, they watch with bated breath as the familiar black and white picture playing on the small screen.

Half an hour comes and goes in a flash as the doctor wiping away the goo smeared over on your belly, eagerness and joy bubbling near the surface you couldn’t stop smiling and neither could your moms.

“Mom.” You call out but they were already both waving you off, shoving your phone back into your hands, knowing smiles on their lips.

“Don’t worry, we’ll finish up here.”

Not a second to waste, you hastily, as hastily as a 4 months pregnant woman wadding like a duck swallowed a planet would allowed, rush toward the exit, elation no longer contain as you squeal in happiness. One ring then two, you’ve never feel so impatient before waiting for Jinhwan to pick up as your feet dance in one spot.

“BABY! YOU FINISHED, HOW’S PEANUT, HOW’RE YOU, WHAT’D THE DOC SAID?” No time for greeting, your husband near screamed your ears off the second your “hello” sounded off in his speaker. Behind his overexcited voice, a ruckus of overlapping calls for your name and muddled up questions that sounds more of some dead language than anything that’d make sense. A cuss left your husband lips before you could hear the leader’s voice booming out, simmering down the commotion.

“So, baby is fine. She’s super healthy... Just a bit of a brat. Sigh, she’s only four months old but already taking after her dad, being a pain in the butt for mommy. I guess she’ll be daddy’s little girl.” You muses, hinting at the long time coming answer to Jinhwan’s anticipation. You couldn’t contain your satisfaction in being able to share the moment with him (and the boys) even if it’s just over the phone, loving every second you get to say ‘she’, and ‘little girl’. Quite a strange feeling finally being able to put somewhat of an image to Peanut. Thus far your dreams had all been of an faceless, mystery baby that wasn’t really yours. Now you could really let your imagination wander in details and it never felt better. If the pregnancy hadn’t feel real up till now, this was the moment that solidified it all, you’re having a baby girl, your own daughter.

“That’s really good to hear, babe. What about the important news!!!” Clamors of agreement and chants of “boy or girl” erupt in the background.

“I said, She’s only four months old but already giving mommy a headache. Definitely daddy’s little girl.” Lord, what will you do with this man child.

“Aw, is our little baby giving you a lot of pain again? I’m sorry...” He coos out apologetically, completely missing the way you’re dragging out the important words.

“Jinhwan, are you even listening to what I said?”

“Yes, yes I am. She’s giving you a lot of trouble. Daddy’s litt- NO, NOO. Seriously? for real?” Midway through that sarcastic voice he does whenever you scold him for not listening, Jinhwan suddenly caught himself smiling like an idiot, disbelief spreading all over the joyous soon to be dad. For the next minute, loud screams emanating from the speaker, uproar of confusion and Lord knows what else went on before a calm Junhoe finally picks up the phone.

“Hey, noona. So Jinhwan hyung is having a meltdown and everyone else is... excuse me.” A torturous sigh left the young boy’s lips before a muffled “Will you all shut the fuck up!” could be heard over the speaker. “I don’t know why, he’s not even saying anything but they’re just all screaming together. So what’s the prognosis? What are we having?” He returns to that dead tone, no doubt over everyone else’s shenanigans.

“What are we having? jeez, these boys. It’s a little girl, you’re having a niece!”

“YAH! WE’RE GETTING A NIECE!!! YA’LL CAN GO BACK TO SCREAMING NOW” By the sound of things, Junhoe had also now lost in the celebration as the ruckus only grows louder from iKon’s noise pollution yelping. Hanging up, you shake your head at just how crazy they get but contentment spreading all over your body much like the comfort of a warm hugs thinking about little Peanut, your little daughter is so lucky to have 7 men in her life that will go through whatever length to protect her. You can’t wait till Jinhwan finally arrive home to you and his baby girl.

You feel like a whale, no, you feel like a whale corpse washed up on the beach, bloated and ready to blow at any freaking second. Why did you agreed to this, why in the world did you agreed to put on a bathing suit even if it’s in the privacy of your own hotel room. You stare then sway back and forth, turning sideway then turning back, there’s nothing you could do to look less like a puffer fish.

“Wow...” A swim trunk clads Jinhwan casually strides in, jaws on the floor as he shamelessly stare in amazement. His eyes boring holes into your body as they shift from head to toe, lingering just a bit too long on your uncomfortably swollen breasts all the while licking his lips as if you’re something delectable.

“Don’t you dare start, Kim Jinhwan...” You warn with a finger up, hand pulling a throw over your near naked body.

“What? I can’t admire my beautiful, gorgeously hot wife now?” Ignoring the daggers from your eyes, he inches closer, cold hand trailing gently along your bare belly sending shivers through your body. Pulling you closer to his chest, his lips crashing against yours as if you hadn’t kiss in months.

“It’s mortifying when you stare at me like that.” Mumbling against his lips, you pull a pout that though he loves, Jinhwan hates the reason behind it. You were never one to care about exposing yourself to him, never shy away from embarrassment when he’d just ogles at you in that sinful black dress you wore for his birthday a year ago, in the cheeky little yellow bikini you wore the first beach date, in the giant pizza stained white t-shirt you stole from him in baggy sweatpants when you first moved in together... He just loves to gape at you, unabashedly, a lot, all the time. Yet ever since little Peanut arrived, he’d walk in to find you pulling a bathrobe over yourself, getting annoyed when he’d barge in the middle of your shower as he always did.

“Why, huh? Is it really that humiliating for you? Why do you keep covering yourself up around me? Baby, If you ask me to describe in detail your lady part, I could probably do it. So why all of the sudden you wouldn’t let me see you naked.” Parting way from the hug, his expression scowl when he looks down to see your hands rather than embracing back, still holding onto the piece of fabric shielding your body away from him tightly. The red throw rips away leaving your bare skin to bask in the warm sun of paradise, Jinhwan pulls your back against his chest in a soul crushing hug, nudging you closer to the spotless floor to ceiling mirror. It was now your turn to sour as you gaze upon your pudgy body, your vulnerably naked pudgy body. “Look at you, smoking hot as a mom.” He pauses for a second, hissing in enjoyment as a finger trailing the valley of your breasts. A soft kiss tingles its way from your nape to your shoulder, before stopping at your collar bone. “I don’t understand, do you not see me shamelessly staring at you all the freaking time? You turn me on so hard even when you’re in that ugly preggo night gown my grandma gave you. Did you know that, baby?” Much to his dismay, you hum a soft “no”.

“No? Good gracious, I haven’t been doing my job then. I love you no matter what, baby.” His hands left the hold he had around your now nude breasts, tiny red bikini ripped away moments ago just so he could revel himself in the softness of your curve, basking, near moaning as he gives them light squeezes. Nails delicately scrapping along your side, kisses dotting your skin like stars blooming night sky, Jinhwan whispers praises, luring out a whimper from your lips that tell him he had won this battle. He was in a trance, so enthralls in the way your parted lips gasping softly at his every touch, your hands atop his, guiding the pleasure to places you’d crave to be touch for so long.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Don’t you miss this?”

No word could be form aside from a ragged yes, you could feel yourself shaking in anticipation of what to come. You hadn’t realize how wonderful this was nor how long it had been since you got intimate, after all, being the size of Mars really make sex difficult. Hand smoothing over your stomach, you gasp from the way his erection flushing so pleasurably tight against the curve of your ass, watching with half closed eyes that devilish smirk blooming on his lips.

“Jinhwan!”

“Yes, baby, I know. Let me take care of you.” Sultry oozing from his tone but right now, you’re not gasping because of the hand he had snaked into our soiled bottom...

“No, no. Babe, stop. Stop for a second.” Your frantic calls tear his heart apart and the worst scenarios rummage through his brain.

“What’s wrong. Is Peanut okay? Are you okay, baby? Let me call the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine.” Perplex, he stands there staring at you as if you had just said unicorn is real, you waste no time grabbing his hands in yours, pressing them against your belly. “Feel that?” Still in a confused haze, he cocks his head aside for a second before a smile breaks out on his lips.

“Oh my God, oh my God. Is that... Did she... Holy shit, I’m freaking out.”Hopping in one spot, coitus forgotten, all he could focus on was that strange yet magnificent buzz in his heart feeling your baby move for the very first time. Peanut is the product of you both but thus far, Jinhwan couldn’t help but feel unreasonably jealous being the third wheel to you and your connection with Peanut. He knew there was nothing you could do to let in in but now, he could finally have a moment to himself.

You had felt tiny bump here and there but always chalked it to your imagination, never once did you tell Jinhwan afraid of how disappointed he’d be not being able to feel anything. Right now, this moment, it solidified yet another big step for you as parents as Peanut rolls and kicks her way into both your hearts. “Hello, little one. It’s dad!” Nothing brings you more joy than watching Jinhwan interaction with Peanut, the way his eyes sparkle with glee as he coos in adoration. “Babe, babe, feel. She kicks more when I talk to her. Hello, baby. It’s daddy. i love you so so much” You chuckle at his reaction, probably too happy to remember the little one is inside your stomach and every kick, every turn you could feel.

“Move your hand around, she’ll follow.” You suggest, joy breaks out in your heart when he follows and screech in elation when the little rambunctious Peanut’s movements follow.

“Wait, how did you know that trick? Have you been hiding things from me again. Babbbyyyyy!!!”

“I’m not, I swear. I’ve never gotten her to move much until today. I didn’t wanna disappoint you that’s all.”

With a fake disapproving scowl, you were completely ignored as your man get back to the important task at hand, getting his little princess go ham with him. Pulling the bathrobe over your naked body, you settle onto the bed and let your husband have his fun. Oh well, at least the little one will have a good sleep after tiring herself out from playing.

“JINHWANNIEEE. Baby!!”

“Breathe, love, breathe. Like how we practiced.”

Huffing and puffing over the phone, Jinhwan mentally curses at himself for not taking the management’s offer to sit out of filming for the talkshow when he had the chance. Now riding to the airport listening to your scream of pain, he blames himself for being so careless. Leaving was always hard but this time, something about it bothered him so, perhaps because your range of mobility is that of a 3 months old, perhaps it’s because Peanut arrival date a mere few weeks away. He was antsy, itching to return when he barely boarded even when you had did your absolute best to persuade him everything will be fine until he returns. Well look how it’s all blown up in his face now. He’s so crazy for actually believing his almost 9 months pregnant wife that everything will be fine, everything is not fine! “Love, I’m boarding now. I’ll be back to you and Peanut soon okay? I love you both so much. You’re the toughest woman I know, you’ll be okay. Love you.”

“I love you too. Hurry, babe.”

Phone thrown aside, your hands rubbing your stomach as if it would sooth the unbearable pain that showing no sign of subsiding, never mind the mess you had made on the living room couch. No class, no advice could possibly have prepare you for the real torturous waves of contraction, to make it so much worse, Jinhwan isn’t here to hold your hand, to tell you that everything is okay. Were you stupid to push him off to work when you knew Peanut could be here any seconds? Who would’ve thought she would come two weeks early with her dad being away of all thing.

“Little one, come on. Just a little longer, mommy can hold out. Wait for your dad, okay? Be a good girl, wait for your dad.”

You whisper, hoping your baby will understand your desperation as another round on flesh searing pain radiates out. The second you were seated in the wheelchair, fate in the hand of the hospital staffs, you text Jinhwan again even if it can no longer reach the man, you just need for him to know you’re both safe. Somewhere above the city, Jinhwan prays to God to be with you and thankful the trip wasn’t over sea but a mere few cities over. The hour spent on the plane had been the longest hour Jinhwan had ever experienced, the hardest hour even with the long trainee period and two survival shows in his pocket. A throng of texts flooding his phone like a bad omen leaving the man running out of the airport, leaving all his belongings for the other boys to collect. All he could think was you.

“Hi, baby girl.” He whispers over the phone, although not sure why.

“Jinhwannie... I’m so scare.” That’s why, he thought the second your wavering voice reaches his ear. He has to be calm, now is not the time to panic, not when you’re the one that’s about to shove a human being out.

“It’s okay, love. Listen to my voice, okay? breathe”

At the sweet sound of your husband, your worries and pain almost magically enervate, leaving a serenity to wash over your being. Suddenly the many needles poking at you, the nurse that keep staring at your lady part every few minutes just disappear. Your breath slow when your brain finally registers that soothing velvety voice, he talks about his day, then the dog he had saw, anything really but it calms you.

“I’m almost there,sweetheart. How’s Peanut, is she being a bad little girl again? Hurting mommy?”

“No, she’s perfect right now. The doctor said she’s right where she needs to be.” You gasp when another wave of contraction hits, hissing in an effort to hide your panic but as always, your husband knows better.

“Hey, hey, remember. Breathe, come on, do it with me. In and out. I’m at the front, love. I’ll be right there.”

Phone shoves away, Jinhwan races agains the clock toward the source of his happiness. His heart beats faster with each step he takes but it wasn’t because of exhaustion, but rather the delightful on cloud nine warmth that was spreading over his body.

“BABY!” he calls out with all the strength he could mustered up but you didn’t believe it at first, refusing to look away from the tiny human that already got both her mom and dad wrapped around her tiny fingers. Jinhwan couldn’t help but shed a tear at the wires attaching to your body, his mind couldn’t even dare to imagine the pain you were in so he did the only thing he could, the best thing he could. Jinhwan pulls your body into his, lips pressing against your slick with cold sweat skin. “It’s alright, baby.”

“Jinhwan! You’re here.” He’s here, he’s really here was all you could think about for a while, snuggling close to his chest. Your emotion run free as tears of happiness and of fear stream from your face leaving you a blubbering mess.

“Hey, shh. Don’t talk, just sit still. This might hurt okay? But it’ll help the pain.” You follow his sight to see a giant needle heading right for your back, jerking away out of instinct. Jinhwan lets you cling on him, squeezing his hands to a point of pain but he only responds with a smile. The small sobs from your lips rip his heart and soul apart but soon, it’ll be all over so for now, he’ll be strong for you.

The next few hours was a blur of the strange quietness of the drug blocking your pain away, Jinhwan watching over as you finally got a chance sleep then the ruckus of nurses and the iKon boys running in and out of the small hospital room. Yet even with all the confusion, all the insane things that was going on during birthing, he could remember a few things very very clearly - the way your head leaning into his chest for support and that tired but content smile, how he wishes to take this weight off your shoulder watching your feature contort then twist as you use all your strength to push, when your body drop onto the stained bed knowing it was finally all over half crying half laughing, then the most beautiful sound he had ever heard when his baby cry out.

He’s a dad.

Jinhwan thought little Peanut was the most perfect thing in the world even when she’s still covered in blood and guts. The cute little nose and the way her tiny fingers grasping so tightly around his unlike anything in this world. He hugs her close, settling next to your worn out form, smile never left his face even though his cheeks hurt.

“Look, mama. I’m here” He coos softly, being the pillar and support you need before handing the little bundle over into your arms. “She’s so beautiful, so beyond perfect just like your mommy.” His finger reaches out caressing her fluffy little cheek as Peanut gazes up with her cute doe eyes, a little smile at her lips when her dad voice enveloping her in love. “She has your eyes, baby. Look! even her smile, she got mommy’s smile. Lucky her!”

“She has daddy’s nose, lips, and beauty mark though.”

Too spent to say much, you lean back and watch the way Jinhwan worship and adore his daughter before with a sadden pout, he hands her back for a bath as the doctor tends to your raw bleeding lower half but not before he presses another delicate kiss on her forehead with a quick “I love you” that had even the nurses melting. You couldn’t feel pain, not because of drug but because of Jinhwan and your daughter. Not once did he leaves your side, checking back every few seconds as you both being wheel into the private of your room.

A gentle smile creeps onto your lips when familiar faces gathered in front of your room as you passed the threshold, with a wave, you let sleep lulls you into its embrace. Drowsy, worn, you whisper for Jinhwan to introduce the little one as the boys gather around the tiny couch before finally closing your eyes. As you drifting away with the sandman, you could make out a proud father cradling his baby to his chest as he smugly announces her arrival before darkness takes over.

“Uncles, meet little Peanut!”

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