#anyway my hometown angst aside--

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter II.

gif credit / @azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Javier is slowly beginning to realize that monotony isn't as bad as he initially thought…

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, mentions of masturbation, they really wanna fuck each other, that good slowburn angst, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religion, mentions of sex workers, dbf!Javier Peña because I have no self control.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS:   The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lexi, my beloved, who has been a BIG help in helping me figure out this crazy ass story. Love you bestie, I don't know where I'd be without you < 3 I am… so obsessed with these two and the little universe they live in… *muffled screaming* I hope everyone reading so far is having a good time because I know I am! I've got a lot in store for this pairing, and if you're a fan of the horror/thriller aspect of this plot there's a lot comin' your way ;) Anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback on this blog < 3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

It’s an extraordinarily warm day, which isn’t uncommon for the area, however it’s the type of warm that reminds her that summer is just around the corner. 

It’s Paloma’s favorite season. While the Seminary heat is unforgiving as all hell; she loves the way the sun feels against her skin, the thin layer of sweat that clings to her gives her the perfect glow and nothing beats cooling down by the creek. The town is also much more lively during the season, too, since tourists heading west often take a rest stop in in town.

It’s how she gathers most of her summer weekend crowd. People who do not expect this drive through town to be as charming as it is. While small, it has a community actively keeping it thriving. The businesses that line the streets of their downtown all owned by families who have been here for decades. A lot of love has been poured into their settlement, and while most of the time Paloma feels suffocated by the repetitiveness of her days, she’ll always have a soft spot in her heart for her hometown.

She’s become the performer that she is by staying here. Her shows at The Whiskey Fox have been the perfect training grounds for her to get a comfortable grasp on her stage presence, which aside from singing, is the most important thing about being a musician. An aspiration that she keeps to herself, mostly, just telling those who ask that she’s doing this ‘singing thing’ as a hobby. That her ‘real job’ would be going full time at the library.

That is her plan, the future she damns herself with. As quick-witted and rambunctious as Paloma can be; she’s still not valiant enough to take control of her own life.

Instead, she’s at the beck and call of her father’s.

It is much easier this way, she justifies it to herself like that all the time. If she goes out into the world, pursues her want to be a musician; there’s a chance that she fails and has to return home with her tail tucked between her legs like a shameful dog. At least staying here in Seminary provides her with a stability to keep her content for the rest of her life.

But would she really be content? Would she regret not trying and potentially not even failing?

Paloma bikes the familiar path from her house down into town, woven bag with her belongings in the basket that’s zip tied to the front of the bicycle she’s had since she was in high school. There’s a small grocery list and an even smaller to-do list accompanying her things; a brown paper bag with her father’s lunch also tossed in there.

When Darla, her 1970 Buick Electra, officially died on her; she hated having to bike everywhere. Her father was able to take her places whenever he could, but most of the time it was just Paloma and her bike against the world. 

The sheriff even made the suggestion of sending one of the deputies to escort her wherever she pleased, but she despised the idea of having an officer always following her around. So after a few awkward car rides to and from town; she decided it’d be more convenient for her to bike it until further notice. The only time she requests an escort is after a closing shift at the library or a show at the bar. 

The most peaceful part of the trek is riding over the abandoned railroad tracks near the old train station. Something about the scenery; being surrounded by the lush forest with nothing but her and her thoughts for miles and miles is very comforting to Paloma, so whenever she arrives at this little landmark of hers, she makes a point to stop and soak it all in. 

On days like this, where she doesn’t have much to do; she stays for a while.

Paloma approaches the familiar tracks, stopping entirely and propping her bicycle against a nearby tree. She pops a Linda Ronstadt CD into her portable player, the headphones slipping over her ears as she approaches the tracks. The sound of the gravel crunching beneath her boots is muffled out by the soft country tunes that begin to play. Paloma sits right on the track, a little unorthodox but she doesn’t care. Using her bag as a makeshift pillow, she lays flat and looks up at the sky until her eyes shut close; sighing wistfully as she slips away into another world entirely.

She has been struggling to finish any of her music lately, inspiration lackluster to the point where she’s had to revert to covering songs instead of performing original material at the bar. It is frustrating, to say the least, especially when she knows she is more than capable of writing a good song.

There just hasn’t been much happening that warrants a spark in her passion. No romantic love to pour her heart over, no life-altering event to process with instruments and lyrics. Nothing exciting.

She was in a rut…

That was until a few days ago.

Mind seemingly wanders over to the handsome man that had been in her family home.

Those dark brown, intense eyes that had her flustered any time they made eye contact, the strong cut of his jaw and how it flexed when he spoke, lips that looked so inviting underneath the mustache that she hates she’s so attracted to.

This is the first time any man has left such an impression on Paloma. She sighs softly, remembering how she was harping on her own father for bringing out the fancy scotch in order to impress Javier.

“Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.”

Now she understands why. Aside from being nice to look at— she found herself completely engaged in any conversation he partook in. While he was not a man of many words, the few that he did have had her feeling like a freshman schoolgirl crushing on a senior athlete.

She is particularly interested in the fact that he had lived in Colombia for a better part of however many years; curiosity bubbling anytime he mentioned anything about his time there. She is envious that he has been able to experience a country filled with such culture and ecological beauty, even though she understands that the nature of his job probably didn’t entail to him sightseeing much. 

That’s another thing; he was very vague about what his role was down there. All Paloma knows is that he was a DEA agent, responsible for cornering one of the most notorious drug traffickers to exist in the modern world. One thing led to another and now he’s back in the United States as a Deputy Sheriff for a small town in the middle of fuck-knows-where Texas. 

It intrigued her to know his backstory and how that led him here. What all he’d done and witnessed, even if it wasn’t any of her business.

She finds it fascinating and it adds a layer of mystique to his persona.

Then her thoughts begin to turn into something more… naughty as she imagines the way his mouth wrapped around the colored end of the cigarette, his fingers flexing around the drinking glass before downing its contents in one swift movement, tongue peering out to lick at his lips. Fuck, her eyes flutter open and she squints slightly as the sun beams down on her. Her skin is warm, just how she likes it, buzzing with excitement at the image of the older man nuzzled in between her thighs, teasing her until she was at his mercy. 

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, fingers slowly trailing down her torso then drumming along the exposed skin of her lower stomach. The thought of moving her digits beneath the fabric of her panties crosses her mind for a split second before she remembers where she is. Not that she would be interrupted at this time of day but she has to have some shame, right? It’s already bad enough that she’s fantasizing about him, no need to fuel that fire by touching herself in plain daylight.

Paloma sits up, removing the headphones from over her ears and twisting her body to reach into her bag as she pulls out her notebook and pencil, a sudden stroke of inspiration striking her.

Javier lazily leans back against the leather chair he’s sat in, typical cigarette dangling from his lips as he scans the report in front of him, brows pulled in to a frown as he half ass reads it. He’s only been in Seminary for a week and it hadn’t taken him long to fall into routine. 

He gets up early to exercise, finding the time in his day to be able to do that again, eats what he considers a ‘healthy’ breakfast (it’s just toast and eggs… maybe some fruit if he’s really feeling it) then heads to the sheriff’s department. The day drags by until he’s at home again. He spends the evenings glued to his couch, takeout remnants on the table, nursing a beer and watching reruns until he goes to bed.

That is the part he dreads the most. The night time. Javi has always had trouble sleeping, but his time in Colombia only made the insomnia worse. He’ll stare at the ceiling, replaying all his fuck ups over and over until day breaks and soft sunlight seeps into his room. 

On the nights where he does manage to fall asleep, it’s restless and doesn’t last very long as he jerks awake from whichever nightmare decides to plague him that night. He has a few that revisit him often, involving Helena and how things ended with her. Others about Carillo and his untimely death.

It is quite a vicious cycle that he has not been able to break himself free from. It was much more easier to get ahold of it back in Colombia where he could go pay for a distraction at a brothel or bury himself in the demanding job.

Here, there isn’t a damn thing he can bury himself in.

Well, there’s one person he’d love to find a distraction in but fucking the sheriff’s daughter just to get some sleep is not the best move for him to make considering he’s trying to be a better person nowadays.

There is barely anything happening at the station. The few deputies employed are constantly out on patrol, which Javi had recently revamped by giving new routes for them to follow. A task he’d conjured out of pure boredom yet left Sheriff Leighton impressed by his proactiveness.

Furthermore, the department is left partially empty with just himself, Romeo and Lorraine holding down the fort. 

With no further updates in the ongoing homicide cases; there isn’t much to do. He isn't in the mood to go make small talk with the locals, and he’s already driven and familiarized himself with most of the roads within town limits, so he’s stuck in this building for the time being. 

The sheriff had reiterated many times not to expect the same hustling and bustling he experienced back in Bogotá or Medellín. A fact that he knew when coming in, but experiencing it is just so damn grueling.

Instead of going home and bullshitting there, Javier decides to be responsible and help Lorraine reorganize their filing system. It is outdated to all hell and messier than anything he and Murphy could have ever conjured up at the embassy, but in attempts to be a more… responsible person, he tells the front desk clerk to not worry about a thing and that he’d handle it all himself.

He might have gone in over his head, but they’re just files. The tedious task something he is very familiar with. Javi had done his fair share of mindless tasks during his DEA days.

He’s at his desk, an unused one he plucked from the center of the room and moved over into a corner that gave him just a pinch of privacy. Romeo apologized about the lack of space for a private office, but Javi didn’t mind it. Being in an office is stifling; and he enjoys, for the most part, being out in the open. 

Also, Lorraine is great company. Very unfortunate that she shares the name with his ex-fiancée.

Javier sets the sheet of paper he’s reread a dozen times down, ashing his cigarette and scratching at his nose with his thumb when he hears the sound of the front door opening. 

His eyes lazily trail over to the entrance and an immediate smirk tugs at his lips, crease between his brows disappearing.

Paloma Leighton.

Oh, how he’s been thinking about her since that night he had dinner over at their house. How wrong it is of him to be pining after a woman like her.

It is not that difficult to capture Javier’s attention, he is very self aware in that regard. As long as you were interested; you were pretty much on his radar.

Javier loves women. He loves the way they look, the way they smell. Their soft moans and pants in response to his coaxing, how their nails feel digging into the soft skin of his shoulders as they come down from an intense orgasm. 

Can anyone blame him for being so attracted to them all the time? Women are a godsend.

He watches her carefully as she saunters over to his desk that’s on the opposite side to where her father’s office is. 

“Now, Miss Leighton— to what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks, taking another drag of his cigarette as he keeps his position leaned back in his chair.

With an air of curiosity, he casts a lingering gaze over her figure, his lips moistening involuntarily as he drinks her in.

She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts that hug her in all the right places and a halter top with an exposed back. She isn’t wearing a bra so her stiff nipples are prominent against the fabric. The sight gets him stirring below his belt, and he has to keep smoking in order to keep his antsy hands off of her. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She throws the typical line at him with a smirk.

“I forgot my camera at home. Mind comin’ back to mine, cariño? I’ll make sure to take the prettiest pictures.” He ashes the cigarette, flirtatious as ever despite telling himself he was not going to go down this route.

But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? Especially not when she’s playing into it.

“Clever, charming and cocky. I’m startin’ to sense a pattern here, cowboy.”

“And what would that pattern be?” 

“M’still figurin’ that out, unfortunately.” There’s a brief pause, “Those things’ll kill you.” Paloma changes the subject, nodding her head towards his nicotine stick.

“I’m going to die eventually.” Javier rebuttals and she just hums, honey colored eyes watching as he takes another long drag.

Javi is thankful that Lorraine had left early today. He's certain that this little conversation of there's would have played out differently had there been a third person in the room.

Maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all and he would have been stuck thinking about her like a perverted fool.

“S’that why you’re here? To criticize me smoking?” His toned biceps flex as he brings his hands behind his neck, fingers interlocking and cigarette hanging from in between his lips.

“No, just stopped by to drop off daddy’s lunch before I ran some errands. That man wouldn’t eat if it weren’t for me.” Now it’s her turn to do the ogling, her gaze traveling from the cigarette to his arms, eyes sparkling down at him.

“Sheriff isn’t in right now.” He informs her but something tells him she already knew this. Her brows raise at the news and she shrugs. 

“‘Course he ain’t. Probably already went down to Carl’s for lunch. I keep tellin’ him his arteries are gonna get all clogged up if all he eats is greasy burgers and beer.” Javier can sense a hint of irritation in her voice.

“So just let him. He’s a grown man, M’sure he doesn’t need nor want his daughter looking out for him every second of the day.” He interjects, watching her carefully as she rolls her eyes. 

Her hair is in two neat braids, bangs framing her beautiful face leaving the entirety of her back exposed to him. A few droplets of sweat slowly roll down her spine and he imagines himself licking them right up; preferably while he has her bent over his desk. 

“Well if I don’t do it then who will? He’d barely last a week on his own.” Despite being irritated, Javier catches how she genuinely seems to care for her father so with that, he decides to not meddle in their family business and instead moves on swiftly.

“You know him better than I do.” He leaves it at that, finishing his cigarette, “Heard you got a show comin’ up” And when he says ‘heard’ what he really means is listening to everyone else rave about the sheriff's daughter's incredible talent and how he simply must attend one of her performances.

That sparkle in her eye glistens brighter at the mention of her show and she nods, “Yup,” pops the ‘p’, fiddling with the pens he’s stuffed into his faded DEA mug, her body turned slightly to face him. “Every Friday and Saturday. Will we be blessed by your presence, Mr. Peña or are you going to hide out in your trailer home all weekend?” Hearing his last name coming from her has his jaw ticking ever so slightly and he watches her eyes take notice of it.

Paloma likes it.

“Dunno. Gotta check my schedule, querida. Things tend to get crazy ‘round here. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Well… if you do decide to find some time in that busy schedule of yours; the show starts at six both nights.” And who was he to deny her? Especially as she bats her eyelashes at him, an unspoken way of letting him know she wants to see him there.

The front door bell dings, announcing the arrival of someone new, interrupting the comfortable pause of silence they were sharing. 

That someone new is the sheriff, and Paloma immediately rises from her spot on the edge of his desk, making her way to her father. Javier straightens up, picking up the previously discarded sheet and feigning interest in it; but Romeo doesn’t seem to notice a thing. He looks deep in thought.

“There ya are. I brought you lunch.” Paloma calls after him but he’s already in his office. She lets out a sigh, looking over her shoulder at Javier whom she catches getting an even better view of her ass.

“See you around, Mr. Peña. Maybe you should start carrying around that camera of yours. Y’know… to get all them pretty pictures.” She makes a point to sway her hips as she walks away and he runs his tongue over his front teeth slowly.

This girl is going to get him into trouble.

At least he won’t be so fucking bored anymore.

Paloma leaves the building twenty minutes after getting her father to agree to eat the lunch she brought and not go down the street to the local diner. He seemed pretty distant so she didn’t press him like she usually would, instead giving him a peck on the cheek before leaving his office.

Her gaze wandered over to the opposite corner, hoping to find Javier sitting in his seat already watching her but he was nowhere to be found.

She felt a slight pang of disappointment in her gut at his absence but she pushed it down, a budding smile on her lips at the thought of seeing him at her show. 

She doesn't even care that the man is older than her, she’s down bad for him. 

Paloma swings her leg over her bicycle, kicking the kickstand inwards and riding down the street towards the farmer’s market until she’s stopped by a familiar voice calling her name.

“Paloma!” It’s Sloane, who’s jogging to catch up with her. 

Sloane McCarthy is the only best friend that Paloma has ever had. Like, ever.

Growing up, she was a very shy child and only had the typical schoolyard friends, but not any that she would willingly swap secrets with or any of that other stuff girls usually do within their social circles.

After her mother’s death, Paloma became more of an introvert. She didn't maintain a friendship outside of school, instead all her focus and energy was put into her artistry. To her, instruments were her best friends. They would always be there to listen, to help her navigate through her grief alongside coming into her own without a mother to guide her through the trials and tribulations of girlhood. 

As lonely as it sounds, it was probably for the best that she chose her musical hobbies to be what got her through the hard times. It allowed her to navigate the creation process at her own pace, figure out her strengths and work on her weaknesses.

She is grateful, however, for the guidance she received from Tammy, Kristy and Lola: the sisters that owned The Whiskey Fox.

They helped fill the void left barren by her mother, Abilene, and were the ones who convinced her to start performing at their bar when she was only fourteen.

Paloma met Sloane a few months ago at the library. She had come in with two other guys whom she can barely remember now, asking her about Seminary’s selection on books about the occult. There are hardly any, she had replied, since this town is too obstinate to allow many books on those matters on their library shelves.

Ever since that afternoon, they hit it off and began to hang out together more regularly. Paloma had even hooked her new friend up with a job as a bartender.

She stops, steadying herself as the girl hugs her from the side then rounds the bike to stand in front of her.

“Hey Slo, whatcha up to today?” Paloma asks, eyeing the book in her friend’s possession before meeting her gaze.

Sloane possesses a striking beauty. Waves of rich brown hair cascade down to her collarbone, framing her face like a halo. Her button nose, perfectly proportioned, adds a charming innocence to her features.

But it’s the freckles that truly distinguish Sloane’s features, far more pronounced than Paloma's. They form constellations upon her round face, like tiny stars scattered across a canvas of porcelain skin. And above them, her signature touch: baby blue eyeshadow delicately applied across both eyelids, enhancing the color of her brown eyes.

Paloma found herself being envious of Slo and comparing her beauty to that of her best friend’s; especially when she was the main one being approached whenever they went out.

Not that Paloma cared about male attention, however, she still felt that pang of rejection deep in her belly each time Slo was being hit on while she was left making small talk with the bartender or waitress, depending on where they were.

It wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive, anyone could tell you that Paloma is one of the most beautiful women in town; but more so because of who her father is. Sometimes, men don’t approach her in fear of being shot at by the sheriff. It can be very frustrating, but it does help keep the creeps away.

“Well… ”  She drags out, “I went to the library to look for ya, but Olsen said you didn’t work today so I’ve just kinda been roamin’ town… hopin’ to run into ya before poppin’ up to your place unannounced. What are you so smiley for?” Her bubbly and chirpy southern accent reminds Paloma of the bright smile she’s still sporting.

“Just havin’ a good day, s’all. Why are you lookin’ for me?” She questions, deciding not to tell Sloane about her infatuation with newly appointed Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña just yet, gaze once more flickering down to the thick book in her grasp.

“‘Cause, babygirl, I got the answers to all those existential questions you think up in that pretty little head of yours,” she shows off the printed work, “Right here. Got a sec?” with the look Sloane gives her, Paloma knows she can’t say no.

So they situate themselves on a nearby bench, her bicycle propped up against the backside of it. Sloane turns to her, their knees knocking against each other as she begins to explain.

“Ya know my friend August? He wrote that poem I showed you a few weeks ago… the one that had your face as red as a ripe tomato.” She pokes fun at her, pinching her thigh which Paloma swats away playfully.

“It was more explicit than anticipated, but yes I know who you’re talkin’ about. Didn’t he come in with you that one day? In the library?” She just barely remembers him, since he hadn’t said much; just browsed the shelves with the other guy as Slo did all the talking.

“Sure did! Well, he’s written a few books, none of them published…. they’re more so for record keepin’. However, I told him you were… a fan of his work—”

“Fan is a bit of a stretch, don’t ya think?” She snorts, stare flickering over to Slo. 

“— So he asked me to share this with you. It’s his prized possession.” She continues, eyes twinkling as she slides the book over to Paloma.

Paragons of the Sacrificed

By Augustus Rutherford Dixon

“Augustus? What a name.” Is the first thing Paloma notices, thumbing through the book and scanning some of its contents. “This reads like a manifesto, I’m not sure I’m all that interested.” She tells her, closing the item shut and attempting to give it back.

Sloane blocks her from doing so, shaking her head. “No ma’am, you’re gonna read through it. I promise you’ll enjoy it. I know how you like to get lost in your books and music… this is right up your alley.”

She seems almost desperate as she makes her case, so Paloma reluctantly keeps the book in her lap.

“Right up my alley. What exactly does that mean?”

“You know… the adventurous fantasy stuff. He’s really into religion and history but not in a weird, bible thumpin’ way how the people ‘round here tend to be. Eye openin’ stuff… real, tangible things that make you want to pack up all your shit and get the hell outta dodge.”

Slo doesn’t have to say much after that, it’s as if she knew exactly what words to say to get Paloma to be more open minded about reading the book. She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes falling to her lap and she sighs, giving in.

“Sure, why the hell not. If it’s crappy, though, and you waste my time I swear I’m gonna get it back in blood.” She teases, nudging Sloane with her elbow. 

“Oh please, I wouldn’t be bringin’ this to ya if I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Sloane was right. This book is right up her alley.

After getting over the initial wariness of the man’s introduction, she is fully immersed in the historical events he writes about as well as the practices of an unorthodox religion that’s been on the rise, according to him, since the birth of Christianity.

Her relationship with religion in general is pretty unadorned. Paloma is a practicing Catholic, just like the majority in Seminary, and she attends mass every Sunday with her father.

It’s enervating, in a way, but she knows just how much it means to Romeo for her to accompany him every week so she does it just to pacify him. Now whether she’s as devoted as she makes herself out to be is a completely different story.

She’s not. Paloma believes in a greater being; but not in the same manner that organized religion does.

It would quite literally break her father’s heart if he heard her say that out loud.

August is a talented writer, his words transporting her entirely while also making his message concise and informative. Paloma’s been tucked away in her room, obsessively reading the book for about three hours when the landline in her room suddenly rings and it makes her jolt out of surprise.

The clock on her nightstand indicates that it’s nine p.m. and she blinks away the sudden tiredness at the realization. Inserting her bookmark on the page she’s currently reading, she closes the book and reaches over to pick up the receiver and wedges it between her ear and shoulder.

“Paloma speakin’.”

“Hola, hermosa.” Javier’s voice cuts right through her and she’s instantly smitten, the book she was so engrossed in not even a minute ago now forgotten.

“You sweet talk every girl you meet with Spanish endearments?” She can't help but ask, feeling the flutter of the butterflies in her stomach at how he flirts. Between his sultry southern accent and alluring dash of Spanish; Paloma can’t decide which one she likes to hear more.

She hears him shuffling on his end of the phone, “Why? You don’t like it, cariño?”

The Spanish. She definitely prefers the Spanish.

“I do. It’s different.” She twirls the telephone cord around her index finger,  “You call just to shower me in pet names?”

He chuckles, the deepness of it having her bite down on her lower lip.

“No, I was hoping I could speak to your father.” This makes her frown slightly, but also what other reason would he have to call their house at this time of night?

Call for her? Talk her through an orgasm through the phone, telling her to imagine his fingers instead of hers and whispering those goddamn pet names until she’s panting; wailing out for him? Or even better: offer to come by to get her out of the dry spell she’s been under before her father made it back home?

Both so appealing. Both so ridiculously out of this world.

She realizes she’s been quiet longer than intended, so she snaps out of her sudden wet daydream, speaking up.

“He’s out with some friends from the bar. Don’t anticipate him comin’ back home till way later so you’re just goin’ to have to catch him at his office tomorrow, Mr. Peña.”  She had taken notice of the way he was so bothered by her calling him by his last name earlier that she does it again, just to fuck with him.

“You make me feel so old callin’ me that.” He scoffs and her smile doesn’t budge.

“Well aren’t you?” She fuels the teasing, wondering how far she could push it before the fire she’s been harboring burns her.

“You really want to play this game, corazón?”  

“Maybe…”

There’s a swift pause, all that’s heard is both of their breaths on either side of the line. Paloma braces herself for whatever racy event decides unfold but he breaks the silence first.

“Just be a sweetheart and tell your dad I called. Have a good night, nena.” He doesn't even give her the opportunity to give a closing remark, the dial tone ringing in her ears before she pulls the phone away and sets it back into place.

She hadn't realized how tightly her thighs had been clenched throughout that whole exchange. It’s embarrassing how her body reacts to him. Whether it just be his voice or his presence itself. 

Paloma groans, standing from her bed and deciding to shower to calm herself down, August’s book being placed on her nightstand next to the landline.

Javier walks in to the crowded bar much later than he intended to, stuck at the station with some chatty citizen who called to complain about her neighbors dog.

This is the life he lives now. Went from tracking down dangerous sicarios to listening to elderly women bitch about pets.

He hears the rumbling music spilling out into the street upon arrival. The decently sized bar is filled with so many patrons, that it took him a second to recognize it. Honest to God. 

Javier has definitely underestimated Seminary. It becomes clearer the longer he's here. While he does find himself complaining about the monotony most of the time, he’s slowly but surely easing into it.

He finally makes it to the bar and orders himself his drink. Dark eyes scan the crowd until they land on the stage where the first person he notices is Paloma; dressed to the nines with a bright smile. A smile he mimics as he watches her strum her guitar, the three other woman sing along with instruments of their own adhered to their bodies.

She isn’t currently singing, just adding in to the instrumental of a song that he doesn’t recognize. After paying for his drink, he maneuvers the crowd until he finds Romeo sitting front and center, swaying along to the music with nothing but adoration in his eyes for his daughter. 

When he sees Javier approaching, his entire face lights up.

“Javi, my man! You made it.” The two share a friendly handshake as Javier sits down in the empty seat besides him, digging in his leather jacket for a smoke. 

“Woulda been here earlier but had a Margaret Lipton call complainin’ about how her neighbors dog won’t stay on its side of the fence.” He grumbles, lighting the cigarette and taking a lengthy drag as the song finishes.

“Sounds just like her. Expect a lot more’a those. Poor woman is just lonely; her husband of fifty years died not too long ago. Ever since then she’s been callin’ nonstop over petty shit. She’ll complain if a fly buzzes by, I tell ya.” Romeo adds on, taking a sip from his drink and this gets a brief chuckle from Javier, making a mental note to limit his calls with one Margaret Lipton.

The next song begins, a very lively country tune that immediately shifts the atmosphere of the already buzzing bar. People begin to flood the dancefloor in front of the stage, but it doesn’t obstruct his view from the person that he’s here to see. He watches as she strums her instrument before approaching the microphone.

♫

Her voice is so rich and smooth, ears perk up at the angelic singing and he takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes not leaving her for a second.

She shoots a wink towards their table, and while Javier knows it’s directed to the man besides him, he can’t help but be selfish enough to think that’s it’s meant for him. 

That her attention is all for him.

The music picks up, he can feel it embedding itself in his bones and he’s so entranced by watching her perform that he just barely notices when Romeo leans over to talk to him.

“Swear I’ve never been more proud of her.” Javi peels his gaze away from her before the man notices how he’s basically eye fucking his daughter.

“Does she usually write her own songs?” He can't help but ask, her voice ringing out passionately as the song continues.

“Majority of ‘em. Always got her nose stuffed in one’a her journals. When she’s not writin’, she’s at the piano or on the porch with her guitar. Melts my heart every time I see it.” 

Javier doesn’t say much in response, intrigued to hear how her voice sounds when it’s just her singing.

Paloma reproaches the microphone after the long instrumental that had the crowd dancing along to the upbeat country track concludes.

“My daddy warned me about men like you He said, "Baby girl, he's playing you! He's playing you!”

She sings with a vigor he was not expecting, making eye contact with him and he catches the way her red-stained lips pull into a smirk.

Just like that, she has captivated him all over again. 

Under the stage lights, Paloma radiates with an otherworldly glow. Clad entirely in black, she stands out against the band’s more colorful attire. A leather miniskirt, paired with sleek black stockings, hugs her form, the oversized silver buckle of her belt gleaming beneath the spotlight pointed at the stage.

Her leather jacket, mirroring the skirt, features intricate silver detailing that catches and reflects the light with every movement. Beneath it, she wears nothing but a black bra, veiled by a sheer mesh top that adds a layer of sexiness to her ensemble.

Atop her head sits a black cowgirl hat and it wouldn’t be Texas if she wasn't wearing her cowgirl boots, tying everything together.

They drag the last lyric out with the rattle of the drum’s percussion before the song officially ends and bar erupts into a boisterous applause. The women take turns hugging and congratulating each other, though his focus is solely on Paloma. He doesn’t even acknowledge when Romeo gets up to get them all another round of drinks.

“Well, folks, I reckon y’all just witnessed a taste of the good ol’ honky-tonk spirit tonight. Ain’t nothin’ like harmonizin’ with the talented Lone Star Sisters. Let’s raise a toast to good music, good company, and good times at The Whiskey Fox — where the spirits are high and the music’s just right!” The bar laughs and this gets a bemused chuckle out of Javier, who stubs out the cigarette he’d been puffing on throughout the performance.

After a few more formalities and some announcements, she disappears for a brief moment before he spots her again, this time heading in his direction.

She’s stopped a few times along the way by some patrons who simply cannot get over her and her performance.

All Javier does is admire and be amused at how they treat her like she’s a celebrity. Even watches as she signs a slip of paper and crouches down to give it to a little girl. The interaction has his heart racing so he downs the drink in front of him to slow it down.

The adrenaline that Paloma feels after a show is indescribable. It’s like she transforms when she’s up there, giving it her all and making sure that the crowd is being entertained to the fullest extent. It’s why she absolutely loves it when she sees everyone dancing, she's even spotted a few people singing along to some of the original songs she performs regularly.

It’s an even better feeling when she gets off stage and is being praised left and right; it makes her feel like the art she puts out is important as it’s being appreciated by everyone and not just those in her immediate circle. What really melts her heart, though, is when she sees the gleam in the eyes of the younger girls who come see her play. As if they’re looking up to her, seeing their own aspirations performing out on the stage. Knowing that she’s somewhat of a role model to them is all she needs to stay content in her passion for creating music.

After finally getting through the crowd of… admirers (she doesn’t like calling them fans; it feels odd), Paloma reaches the table her father always sits in but is pleasantly surprised to see just Javier there.

“You came.” She doesn't even try to hide the large smile on her face, heart still beating wildly in her chest due to the high energy performance.

“Found a small window of opportunity in my very busy schedule to be able to make it. You’re lucky, hermosa.” He teases and she laughs with a shake of her head, shaking off the leather jacket on her shoulders and removing the hat that sits on her head.

It is entirely too hot for her to sport it for the rest of the evening, so she drapes the jacket over the back of the chair and lets her hat hang over the corner of it.

“You’re a damn good singer.”

The compliment has those butterflies stirring in her stomach again. Paloma won’t admit that she made sure to be on her game tonight in anticipation of his attendance. She doesn’t want to come off as desperate, despite how flirtatious their interactions have been since they met.

“You sayin’ that ‘cause you mean it or are you just tryin’ to become my groupie?” She cocks her head to the side slightly, sliding into the seat across from him and crossing her legs. She bites her lip as she watches his eyes divert down to her thighs; the top of her stockings showing and a soft slither of her skin teasing him to reach out and touch.

“I genuinely mean it, but being your groupie doesn’t sound half bad.” Paloma giggles, scrunching her nose and he smiles at her.

Why does she feel like she’s drunk off him? What the hell does he lace his attention with?

Romeo returns right on time, setting down three glasses on the small, round table.

“Alright, a bourbon for me, whiskey for Javier and a root beer with muddled cherries for my beautiful daughter.” She reaches for her drink, ignoring the look Javier gives her and she takes a lengthy sip from the straw; the carbonation feeling so refreshing as it travels down her throat.

“No post-performance drink?” He asks her, fingers once more fishing out his cigarettes and lighter.

“I only drink on occasion. Try not to do it when I sing unless I need to loosen up the good ‘ol pipes.” Two fingers tap against her throat to emphasize her point, his dark eyes trailing the area and she knows his soft lips would feel divine against her warm skin.

The trio fall into small talk for all but five minutes when Javier’s pager buzzes in his jacket pocket. He excuses himself from the table and he saunters away to the pay phone outside of the bar. Paloma’s gaze follows him all the way out, sound of her father talking muffled as he overtakes her thoughts.

Javier digs into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a few coins to insert into the public telephone then punching in the familiar number of his former partner. The line rings three times before Murphy picks up.

“We got him.”

The words knock the wind out of him and he stabilizes himself by sticking his hand out to lean against the payphone stand.

“Alive or dead?”

“Trujillo shot the fucker right between the eyes.”

He presses the phone against his forehead at the news, eyes closing as he allows it to fully sink in. He knows he should be relieved… that the weight on his shoulders should dissipate now that Pablo Escobar is dead.

Not in custody or cornered. No, dead.

Yet he isn’t relieved. Not as much as he would have wanted to be. It’s a bittersweet feeling, really. They can rejoice now that they got one dirty narc over and done with but if Javier has learned anything in the past years— it’s that this war on drugs is far from over. The rest of the Medellín cartel has yet to fall and Cali just reached its peak. 

You know what they say: cut off one head and two more take its place.

But that’s no longer his problem. He had been reassigned, sent somewhere where he could chill the fuck out and start making amends for his fuckups in Colombia. His only focus now, as long as he’s concerned, is dealing with what happens in Seminary and Seminary only.

He and Steve finish their conversation, reminiscing on all the crazy ass shit they had to do and endure in order to get to this point. Steve ends the call by telling him that he should have been here to see it all the way through and that, in a strange turn of events, he was proud of everything they accomplished together despite the bullshit that ensued.

Javier doesn’t say much, as per usual, but he doesn’t have to. Steve knows he’s appreciative. 

Fingers itch to pluck out another cigarette but he goes against the urge, instead collecting himself before reentering the bar.

Paloma was left alone shortly after Javier left to take his phone call, her father pulled away by his buddies while she finished up the rest of her drink.

When Javier does return, she immediately notices the change in his demeanor but doesn’t know how to ask him what’s wrong without coming off as bothersome.

“Everythin’ good?” Is what she decides on, leaning in to rest her chin on the palm of her hand as her elbow sits on the perpetually sticky top of their table.

“Everything’s alright, muñeca.” He takes his seat again, still being flirtatious but there’s an edge to it. He grabs his drink and swishes its contents around the glass before downing it all in one swift shot.

Paloma doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t get the chance to when her father returns to them.

“I gotta go handle some shit that’s poppin’ off with the Sullivan’s. Go get your things, baby, we’re leavin’.” This pulls a groan from the back of her throat.

“I do not want to tag along while you deal with whatever the fuck they got goin’ on. Not after last time.” Very rarely does she tag along with her father when he’s on the job; and last time they had been called to the Sullivan farm— she didn’t expect to be there for almost three hours trying to help calm down Mrs. Sullivan, who was threatening to shoot her husband with their shotgun.

The conversation seems to intrigue Javier, eyes darting between the both of them as he begins to smoke again.

“Well, you’re gonna have to hitch a different ride, then.”

“That’s no problem, Mr. Peña will take me.” They both look over to Javi as she’s just volunteered him to drive her home.

“Paloma—”

“It’s fine, Romeo. Go handle it, I’ll make sure she makes it home safely.” His thumb drags against his bottom lip as he stares right back at her and his intense gaze has her shifting in her seat, the familiar feeling of arousal shooting heat up core.

It doesn’t take much convincing to send the sheriff on his merry way, her body tingling at the idea of being alone with Javier in his truck as he takes her home.

“You gonna make sure m’fine? That I make it home safe and sound?” Paloma asks with a bat of her eyelashes, leaning close enough to where their knees brush up against each other beneath the table.

He follows her lead, leaning forward and taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from her face. “S’what I’m here to do, princesa. Make sure beautiful girls like you stay safe.”

There’s still some bite to his words but it’s hot the way he flirts with her. She catches the scent of his musky cologne mixed with the liquor and cigarettes he's consumed and it’s intoxicating.

“I thought I told you these things’ll kill you.” She plucks the nicotine stick from between his middle and index fingers, putting the thing out against the ashtray.

“And I thought I told you I’m gonna die eventually.”

“Try not to make it anytime soon.”

“Why? Would you miss me, cariño?” His brows raise inquisitively as he asks her, brown eyes twinkling beneath the dim lighting. 

Paloma shrugs, sliding out of her seat. “Probably not. I’ve just met you.” She replies nonchalantly, despite her head spinning from how badly she wants him. She grabs ahold of her jacket and hat, “I’m going to go pack up my things. Meet me in the back alleyway in ten.”

After getting her stuff into the back of his truck and watching her say goodbye to everyone, Paloma is sat in the passenger seat as Javier drives along the familiar road towards her house.

It’s quiet at first, the radio playing some song softly to fill the void from the absence of conversation.

“So… you got a girlfriend?” Her question catches him off guard and he actually laughs in her face. “Or boyfriend— I don’t judge.” She raises her hands defensively.

“Why, you tryin’ to apply for the spot?” Javier briefly takes his eyes off the road to look over at her, biting his tongue once he sees how she’s staring at him.

Her back is against the door, the soft hue of the radio's blue light casting a shadow across her face as she draws one knee up to her chest. She looks irresistible. Javier contemplates pulling over just to grab her by the neck and press his lips against hers.

She just rolls her eyes playfully, fidgeting with the ends of her skirt.

“Not really, just curious.” He can hear the sincerity coating her words and while he usually wouldn’t divulge in his personal life, let alone his romantic relationships, he decides to answer her truthfully.

“No girlfriend. M’not really the settle down type of guy.”

“Ah, so he’s got commitment issues…” She trails off, messing with him.

“Somethin’ like that.” He isn't offended by her assumption, since it is the truth.

“So no girlfriend back home? Or in Colombia?” 

“Why the sudden interest, princesa?”

“Just tryin’ to get to know you, cowboy.” There she goes with that nickname again and he just shakes his head softly.

“The honest truth...? No girlfriends anywhere. Lots of hookups in Colombia, though. The women there are very beautiful.”

She’s silent, which has him looking over at her again yet this time she isn’t staring back, instead looking ahead at the road in front of them.

“So you’re a slut.”

He laughs again, much more lively this time, “Most people would agree with you, yeah. But I had my reasons for sleepin’ around.”

“Aside from pleasure, what were the reasons?” Her brows raise, her arms crossing against her chest, pushing her breasts together beneath the mesh material and the sight is like something straight out of a Playboy magazine.

“Most of ‘em were informants. Prostitutes who had vital information on the criminals we were after.” 

“So in return for intel, they got to spend a night with you?”

“That was part of it.”

She hums and he flips the question on her before she starts asking about other aspects of his life in Colombia.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend— or girlfriend. I don’t judge.” He repeats her own playful words back to her, making a turn then flipping on the brights as the street lights have decreased to none; leaving them traveling down the dark back roads.

“No, not at the moment. I’ve only ever had one real boyfriend.” Paloma leans her head back against the window, eyes still trained on the emptiness of the night. “And that ended terribly so I didn’t bother trying again after that.”

Curious to know this terrible ending she speaks of, Javier proceeds to stay on topic. “Must’ve been real bad if it got you to give up entirely.”

“Yeah. His name was George. We dated in high school... can you keep a secret?” She suddenly asks, ripping her gaze from the windshield over to him. He can see her from his peripheral.

“For you, nena, of course.”

“We were supposed to get married and run off the night before graduation. Had planned the whole thing out, even bribed an officiant to wed us in the middle of the night down by the cemetery. It didn’t take him much convincin’; told us he had a soft spot for young love.” Javier doesn’t say anything in response, instead letting his silence speak for itself and allowing her to continue on with her story.

“The big night came. I was so nervous I coulda puked. Me and the officiant waited for what felt like an eternity until eventually he apologized to me and left. I cried there all night, a stupid and naive part of me hoping George would eventually show… he didn’t.” She sighs heavily and Javier wants to reach his hand out to rub comforting circles with his thumb against her thigh but he doesn’t, instead driving down the driveway.

“Found out the next day that he had left for the army. Which was so heartbreaking since that’s why he wanted to leave Seminary. He didn’t want to enlist like his brother and father had. Guess somethin’ changed his mind… haven’t heard from him since. I never told anyone about it, and the officiant passed away shortly after so…” She trails off and Javier genuinely feels for her.

However, he can relate to an extent. Not to her but to her ex. His relationship with Lorraine back in Laredo a haunting reminder of the type of man he was slowly turning into. Instead of leaving for the army, though, he’d left her at the altar to run off to Colombia.

“That’s… tough, querida.” He's never been the best at comforting and it doesn’t seem like she minds his scarce sympathy.

“It is what it is. I got over him eventually.” They roll to a stop once they’re at the house, he puts the truck in park and cuts the engine; letting a comfortable silence fall over them.

“Thank you—”

“Do you need—”

They both speak at the same time, interrupting the other and they share a laugh about it. “Ladies first.” He beckons her to continue, shifting his body slightly to face her.

“Thank you for bringin’ me home. I know I didn’t give you much of a choice.” The soft click of her seatbelt being undone brings a sense of reluctance over him, knowing that her departure is imminent and he's already dreading the moment she’s gone.

“Anytime, hermosa.” Javi's dark eyes soften, “Do you need help getting your things inside?” Paloma nods and he’s quick to hop out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for her before she even gets the chance to reach over for the handle.

“What a gentleman.” She purrs, her hand brushing against his shoulder as she walks past him to help unload her equipment.

The desire to push her up against his truck and passionately kiss her, have his hands explore every inch of her body is tempting as all hell but he shows some self restraint.

They get everything into the living room and she walks him over to the front door.

“I appreciate your help, Mr. Peña.” Paloma leans against the doorframe with a teasing simper. They’re close enough to where he can see all the small imperfections that litter her skin. His eyes taking in how beautiful she looks up close, their bodies slowly gravitating towards each other.

“You ever gonna stop callin’ me that?” He asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands landing on either sides of his hips.

The girl shrugs, blinking slowly. “Not ‘til you’re not bothered by it.” They exchange a lustful stare until he decides it’s time for him to leave before things escalate and he crosses a boundary he’s helplessly trying not to overstep.

“I’ll see you around, Miss Leighton.”  Very reminiscent to their last goodbye on this porch, her smirk softens into a smile.

“Goodnight, Javier.” One, two seconds pass before she’s leaning in to place a gentle kiss against his cheek, the feeling has his heart racing and she pulls back slowly before taking a few steps back and closing the door. 

Javier is left in a stunned silence, the small act of affection impacting him more than he would like to admit.

[destieldisaster]

Today I'm promoting the softest, fluffiest best friends to lovers au I've ever read/listened to.

We Are Not Poets by followyourenergy @followyourenergy (44k, rated M, podfic by Khashana)

Dean Winchester was happy to leave the pain of high school behind and move to California to be with his best friend, Cas Novak. Ten years later, the past is dredged up again when he receives an invitation to his high school reunion. He's reluctant to attend because, while he's been successful in many areas of his life, he's yet to settle down with a romantic partner. Cas offers to attend with him, and after they are mistaken for a couple multiple times, suggests that they could pretend to be a couple for the reunion. Dean is only too happy to agree. During their week in their hometown, a series of events pushes both Dean and Cas to closely examine the feelings they've pushed aside for years.

Do you enjoy aus where Dean and Cas are best friends who are obviously in love and act like they're married? Do you like it when absolutely everyone can see that they're meant to be together and they all simply assume they are? Do you love when the fake dating barely changes anything about their relationship except now they get to kiss? Have I got a fic for you!

I've read a lot of fics where Dean and Cas are basically already dating without being aware of it themselves, but this one takes the cake. They cuddle, they kiss each other's cheek they say 'I love you' all the time, they SHARE A BED. Seriously. They share a bed and they both still think their feelings are unrequited. Basically they're idiot who rationalise away all the signs that everyone else sees loud and clear. (It's so so good.)

They also talk. Like, actual proper communication about feelings. Of course, they're hiding the romantic sides from each other, but these two have a kind of trust and openness that's beautiful. They will always be there for each other, choose each other, and they know it. And that's why no potential angst that comes up feels all that angsty, because these two do know how much they mean to each other, nothing and nobody can break that.

Clearly, they love each other, but they also like each other. They've been living together for a decade and been best friends for even longer, they have so many inside jokes and little traditions. They have fun together and know exactly how to cheer each other up and make each other laugh. They also share an interest in science, Cas is an astrophysicist and Dean a mechanical engineer, both having gotten their doctorates at Stanford. They truly love spending time together, they're just a genuinely great match.

So then the plot, the fake dating. They really don't have to do much, because everyone they know already thought they were together anyway. In fact, the only people who get told that it's all fake, Mary, Sam and his fiance Sarah, are clearly baffled that these two haven't figured it out yet. But they are keeping up the ruse so they get to experience showing their love openly the way they've always wanted and of course it brings up a LOT of pining. Both pov's are shown so you get a very clear picture of both of them wanting everything they do to be real so badly and how they start to realise that they can't keep their feelings hidden anymore. We see them spend a lot of time together building up to the big school reunion, which is great for a lot of reasons, but I want to highlight that Cas gets to be wonderfully bitchy to some assholes who treated Dean like shit at school and that feels SO good.

Of course there's a happy ending, a very sweet and fluffy happy ending with a perfect little epilogue. There's also a 16k timestamp/sequel that's just really wonderful. It also has some more sexy times, whereas the mature content in the main fic is very minor.

Finally, just to illustratie their relationship a bit more, one of my favourite lines in the fic:

Cas is a bit confused as to whether this gesture is supposed to trick the group into thinking they’re together or whether it just falls in line with their usual way of communicating, little looks or touches saying things like “help me out” or “hang on” or “later” or “I’m here.”

This is such a comfort fic for me, I'm pretty sure I've listened to the podfic at least once a month for the last year. It just makes me so damn happy 💛

omg it’s FAN FICTION FRIDAY

Reblog and promote a fic of yours <3

[toonbly]

cant wait for grtv 2 where i constantly forget that gman has missing textures all over him

[jaesqueso]

Not yours (m)

pairing: fuckboy!yuta x fem!reader

summary: the drug on you is Yuta

word count: 1,920

warnings: quite angst, unhealthy and toxic relationship, some violence, mentions of cheating, swearing, some smut, masturbation (fem), oral sex (giving), protected and unprotected sex (when in doubt don’t go without!)

a/n: well this came from an interesting place in my mind... anyway I do kinda feel bad for writing Yuta like this but he was the best fit for the part, do remember this a fanfiction, I’m not saying Yuta is this type of person! do give me some feedback please! ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

You wake up in a bed that’s not yours, a room that’s not yours and an apartment that’s not yours. Nevertheless this isn’t an unfamiliar place to you as you’ve been finding yourself waking up here far too many times than you’d want to admit over the last ten months. The figure that once laid next to you is long gone much like every other morning.

You know it’s wrong, you know you shouldn’t fall for his charms that easily but you still do every single time. You don’t quite understand the power he has over you. You always tell yourself this will be the last time but you know it never is. Every text, every call, you know you won’t be able to resist and end up in his bed once again.

You get up and pick up your clothes from the floor putting them on. After gathering all your belongings you take yet another walk of shame back to your apartment. Your roommate looks at you in pity knowing exactly where you’re coming from. She tried to talk to you before, well all of your friends tried to convince you not to do this to yourself, and you know they mean well, you know they’re only looking out for you and you want to follow their advise, so bad, but you’re weak. You’re so weak when it comes to him.

You’ve tried to move on. Sometimes he would ghost you for weeks, so you tried going on dates with other people or having casual one night stands with strangers you met a few hours before, but while your body was there your mind always drifts off to him.

⭐︎

“Yuta!” You moaned as you came all over somebody’s dick. The male kept pounding into you until he released his seed inside the condom. He pulled out, taking off the rubber, and laid next to you.

“That was good.” You hummed against the pillow as he continued. “But you know that’s not my name right?”

“Sorry…” you lifted your head to look at his face. As much as you tried you could not remember what he said his name was because there was only one name on your mind.

“Hey, whatever gets you off.” He smiled and looked at you noticing you lost face. “It’s Lucas by the way.”

“Right… I-I should get going.” You got up starting to look for your clothes.

“You can stay for the night if you want, even if I’m not this Yuta guy.” He joked.

“Thanks, but I’d rather go home.” You’d rather not spend the night with anyone but Yuta actually. You couldn’t imagine finally waking up next to someone and not being him.

“Just tell me he’s not your boyfriend or your husband, I wouldn’t be proud to be a home wrecker”

“He’s not.” Yet, you thought, you would love nothing more than to call Yuta one of those names.

“Good to know. Do you want me to take you somewhere?” Lucas asked considering you got to his place from the club on his car.

“I’m good, my Uber is almost here.” You walked to the door with him following behind.

“Look Y/N, I had a good time.” he leaned against the door frame as you stepped outside.”If you ever want to forget about whatever his name was, I can try to make you remember mine instead.”

“Yeah.. Sure, thanks…” you said as you walk down the hallway of his building.

⭐︎

You go into the bathroom to take a shower. This was the worst part after these nights, having to wash Yuta’s smell off of you. As you clean your body you can almost feel the touch of his hands in every inch of you. You can’t help but take one of your hands between your legs mimicking his movements from last night. You think about him, his body against yours, his lips on your neck, his hand rubbing your clit as he fucked you hard against his bed. You quickly cum as the water from the shower runs down your body.

You finish cleaning up, change into some comfortable clothes and lay in your bed over the covers, starring at the ceiling. You wonder how many other girls Yuta’s fucking with. You wonder if he’s with any of them right now. Or maybe he went back to his hometown to spend some time with his actual girlfriend.You feel bad for her, she probably has no idea how much of a fuckboy her boyfriend is. Sometimes you think about finding out who she is so you could go to her and tell her everything, but then you think about him. As much as you want to end all of this and make things right you couldn’t get yourself to hurt him. Even if he sometimes hurts you.

⭐︎

“What the fuck was that?” Yuta pulled you out of the club by your arm.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to release your arm from his hold but this only makes him grip harder.

“Don’t play games with me!” He pulled you into an alley where nobody was around.

“Yuta stop!” You begged. “You’re hurting me!”

“Maybe you deserve it!” He pushes you against a wall. “I told you not to go around and flirt with other guys around the club like a fucking slut!”

“I wasn’t flirting, we were just talking Yuta…” you grunted trying to ignore the pain on your back.

“I didn’t know you had to have your hand on his chest to just fucking talk!” He was getting louder earning a few looks from the people passing on the street.

“I’m sorry Yuta…” you tried to reach him but he pushed your hand aside, so you took a deep breath and decided to fight back. “What about those two girls under your arms? Don’t talk about me when you were doing exactly the same thing-”

“Don’t you fucking challenge me!” He grabbed your neck with his strong hand against the wall as you gasp for air. He takes a deep breath and releases your neck. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just don’t want other guys all over you, you’re mine.” And you believe him every single time. “C’mon, let’s go to my place, I’ll make you feel good.”

⭐︎

When you’re alone you always think about the bad moments, when he yells at you, when he’s rough with you, when he ghosts you, when you see him with other girls, when you wake up without him and when you remember he actually has a girlfriend. But when you’re with him all those memories fade and you can only think about how he kisses you, how he touches you, how he makes you feel good, how he makes you feel special and how he always says you’re his.

Your friends keep reminding you of how bad he treats you and how you deserve better but they don’t see the good things. You wanna believe Yuta is bad for you, like a drug you’re desperately trying to quit but when you’re high on it you just want to stay like that forever. You just want to stay with him forever.

⭐︎

“Come here baby.” He pulled you into his lap and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It had been two weeks since he last called you and like a fool you came back running as soon as you got his text.

“You know I missed you too, right?” He caressed your thighs pulling up your skirt.

“Why didn’t you call me then?” You ran your hands through his hair.

“I’ve been busy.” He started kissing your neck.

“Doing what?” You just wanted answers you knew you’d never get.

“I told you,” he sighed, “Don’t ask me about my business. Now don’t ruin the mood, I’m trying to do something here.” One of his hands moved between your legs touching you through your underwear. “Didn’t you miss me here?”

“S-So much…” You stuttered as he moved your underwear to the side running his finger between your folds.

“I can tell, you’re already so wet.” He dipped a finger inside you. “Do you see how easily it slides in?” You held your skirt over your stomach and looked down watching him fingering you as he adds one more digit. “Is this all for me? Am I the only who makes you this wet? The one who makes you feel real good?” You nodded biting your lip. “Words baby.”

“Yes Yuta!” You moaned.

“That’s it baby, scream my name, let them all know.” He took his thumb to your clit increasing the heat inside you. You reached down to his crotch caressing his length.

“Can I suck you?” You asked between moans.

“Anything you want baby.” He said removing his fingers from you.

‘I want you to love me. I want you to leave your girlfriend and all those others girls and stay only with me.’ That’s what you wanted to say. But instead you kept your mouth shut and removed his pants and boxers. He took off his shirt as you started pumping his member. You dropped some saliva on his tip swirling your tongue to spread it before you replaced your hand with your mouth. He moved a hand to your hair helping you bob your head and controlling the rhythm.

Not wanting to cum in your mouth he lifted your head and manhandled you so that you were laying face down, taking off your clothes on the way. He closed your legs, hovering you, and placed his own on each side. Lifting your hips up a bit he strokes your folds with the tip of his cock before slowly entering your wet hole. He speeded up his movements hitting you deeper and harder each time. You were a moaning mess gripping on his sheets as you got closer to your orgasm. He spanked your butt a few times and soon after you were clenching around his hardness as you came moaning his name. Not longer after, Yuta felt his own orgasm close so he removed his dick pumping it as he came all over your ass.

He laid down next to you pulling your head to his chest. He caressed your hair and kissed your forehead. This right here. This is how you wanted to stay with him. Forever.

But this was a lie and you knew it.

⭐︎

Again almost two weeks passed since you last saw him. Maybe this is it. Maybe this time you’ll be strong enough to not go back to him, not to fall for his lies. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to  move on and find someone who truly loves you, only you, someone who respects you. You make up your mind. That is until you phone buzzes.

Yuta: come over

Yuta: I miss you

You look at the screen for a few seconds. You can’t go. Not now that you decided it was over. It’s time for you to take ownership of your life and stop playing by his rules. It’s time to set yourself free.

You: I’m on my way

But like a junkie you relapse. You tell yourself this will definitely be the last time. But will it ever?

Yuta: that’s my girl

Yes, you are his. But deep down you know he’ll never be yours.

[peakyswritings]

Black Widow

Luca Changretta x fem!reader

Requested by: @lilywinchesterlove

Summary: Luca thinks he has finally found the one, but what happens when finds out that she hides a deep, dark secret? Eventually, the truth always comes to light

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of murder, mentions of death, drinking, swearing, angst

A/N: this took really long, but I made it! I changed the request a tiny bit, I hope you like it!❤️⭐️

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

Long dresses, neatly pressed suits, bright jewellery, alcohol flowing. Luca had never liked big parties. Despite his luxurious lifestyle, those ostentatious displays of wealth weren’t exactly his cup of tea; not to mention the fact that all of those strangers wandering through his house made him extremely uncomfortable. He’d much rather spend time with his family, or his closest men, instead of taking part in those boring business talks with men who took a despicable pleasure in showing off both their richness and their trophy wives who, in turn, were engaged in an endless competition. But even his birthday was a way to expand his business and make new alliances.

Nevertheless, that night his mind was occupied by something else, way more important than the middle-aged man who was bragging about his new Bentley. He was on edge, absentmindedly taking frequent looks around the room, waiting for Matteo’s face to appear in the crowd. After almost two weeks of waiting, he was about to get the answers to his questions.

“I don’t like her, she’s hiding something”

“You don’t know her”

“Apparently, neither do you” Vicente argued, trying to talk some sense into his son. “I’m just telling you” he added “to keep an eye on her”

His father’s words ringed in his ears as he watched his mother hug you, thrilled to finally see you again. He wasn’t expecting her to like you so much when he introduced you to his family, the way she had welcomed you was a pleasant surprise. She was quite good at reading people, her sixth sense was seldom wrong. However, his father didn’t really agree with his wife and, as soon as he found himself alone with him, he didn’t hesitate to point out the fact that you didn’t seem like someone who could be trusted. You were suspiciously vague when they asked questions about you, or your past.

As much as he hated to admit it, Luca knew he was right. You never talked about your past or your family, you dismissed every question, changing the subject whenever he tried to find out something more about you. At first he thought that there was something that you weren’t ready to talk about - the scars on your body were the proof - and he was fine with that, but the more time passed, the more he realised that the secret you were keeping was deeper than he thought. So he followed his father’s advice, hiring his most trusted man to gather information about you. He felt guilty, like he was breaking your trust, but he had to be aware of the woman he wanted to marry.

Matteo glanced at him from the other side of the big room, nodding towards the door. He distractedly excused himself from the men he was talking to and headed towards his office, feeling his impatience grow second by second.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Matteo placed a folder on the desk. “Everything’s written here. I also found some documents that might interest you”

“Good”

Luca wavered for a moment before opening it. He could feel the agitation rise moment by moment. It was still perfectly sealed, as he had ordered. No one, except for him and the man in front of him, must know anything. He had no idea about what he would find out and he didn’t wanna risk to expose something that you didn’t want to be known.

His eyes meticulously scanned the pages, the more he read, the more he tensed up, not recognising the woman that they described. He looked up from the sheet, glancing at Matteo. Even though he knew what was in that envelope, he didn’t comment nor ask unwanted questions. His discretion was the reason why he had been chosen for the job, after all. He shook his head in disbelief, tossing the papers on his desk. You couldn’t have fooled him like that. No one fooled him like that.

“That’s all?”

“Yes, sir”

He nodded, trying to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, neatly stacking the sheets again. “Call Y/n, tell her to come here”

He didn’t need to say it twice, because Matteo immediately walked out the room.

Luca sat on his chair and waited, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface. Mixed feeling fought inside him, anger, disappointment, betrayal, confusion. One question kept on haunting him.

Why?

The creaking sound of the door opening made him lift up his eyes. “Did you want to see me?”

“Sit down” he said, gesturing towards the chair on the other side of the desk. You frowned as you did as he said, waiting for him to start talking. You guessed it must’ve been urgent, since he hadn’t even waited for the guests to go away.

He examined you, trying to find the smallest bit of evidence that could prove what he had read was true. But you sat in front of him, looking at him with your big eyes. If your intentions were malicious, you were way too good at hiding them behind your sweet voice and charming smile.

“Why don’t you tell me about your husband?”

You froze on the spot, feeling the colour drain from your face. “What?”

“I’m sorry, maybe I should say your first husband” he corrected himself, oddly calm. “He died on your wedding night, right? He hit his head, it was a bad accident”

As much as he tried to hide it, rage radiated from every cell in his body. You could see it in the way his back stiffened, in the way his hands gripped the arm of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

It couldn’t be happening. You had moved far away from home, changed your style and habits, you even changed your surname. There was no way he could have known. You put your initial shock aside, the realisation of what it all meant was enough to make you get suddenly defensive. “Did you look into my past behind my back?” you raised your voice, getting up from the chair.

“And how about your second husband?” he added, unfazed, completely ignoring your question. “The one who died in suspicious circumstances. It must’ve been a nightmare for you, becoming a widow twice”

Despite his straight face and apparent calmness, the sarcasm in his voice was clear.

“Stop it.”

“Good thing they were rich, the papers here say that you inherited all of their money” he noted, pointing to the documents. “They also say that you probably poisoned your second husband, hence the reason why you’re known in your hometown as a Black Widow”

Black Widow. That’s what everyone called you. You could almost hear their whispers, filled with ill-concealed inquisitiveness and detriment. It was easy to talk. Two words had so much power that they could turn someone’s world upside down in a matter of days. Hours, even.

“You don’t know anything about what I went through” you gritted your teeth.

He got up and poured himself a glass of whiskey, as his could feel his unmoved facade was starting to falter. “Now you’re going to tell me a fake heartbreaking story, trying to get me to pity you, aren’t you?” he mocked you, drinking it in one go. “You wanted to do the same to me, after all”

His harsh words were like punch in the gut. He was nowhere hear the truth, but the distance in his eyes made you feel like it didn’t matter what you’d tell him, he wouldn’t believe you anyway. He probably already had his own version of the truth. “So you’re going to judge me without even listening to what I have to say?”

“I want to hear what you have to say” he snapped, slamming his glass on the desk, avoiding your gaze for the first time. “I want a fucking explanation” he growled.

You nodded, looking away from him. As hard as it was to talk about it, there was no use in beating around the bush. Being straightforward was the best way of getting on with it. “It’s true” you stated. “I killed my first husband”

He shot his eyes towards you, not expecting you to actually admit it. If you had to be honest, you didn’t expect it either, your own voice seemed foreign as you said those words out loud for the first time. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right away, deciding to let you talk instead.

“My father needed an alliance with him to expand his business, so he arranged our marriage” you added, crossing your arms. “I didn’t even know him. On our first night, I refused to sleep with him. He beat me with a cane”

He clenched his jaws at your words. That explained the scars on your body, the way you hid them and the reason why you would never tell him how you’d get them. The feelings he felt for you overpowered the bitterness for a moment, the thought of someone hurting you made his blood boil.

“At some point, I managed to take it from him and I hit him on the head. My family covered it up and I wasn’t charged”

The more you talked, the more you realised that there was no going back. He was about to know the whole truth, he was about to decide whether to believe you or throw you away, because he couldn’t risk it.

“After his death, my father arranged another marriage. I didn’t like the man, but he was decent. He died from a disease, I didn’t kill him. Of course, word spread and everyone believed I had poisoned him or something like that. After that, I cut contact with my family, packed my bags, changed my surname and moved here. That’s all”

That’s all. Like it hadn’t been the hardest time of your life. Like it hadn’t been more then a simple change. But you couldn’t afford to let your feelings get the best of you, not after all you had done to come to terms with what happened to you.

Luca didn’t know what hit him the most, your story or the way you had told it. The emptiness in your eyes, the coldness in your voice. Or maybe your calmness. It seemed like you were telling someone else’s experience, not your own. But could he really trust you? Or it was just a trick to make him end up in a wooden box, just like the others?

“You’re telling me that as if it doesn’t touch you”

“What, did you expect me to cry?” you narrowed your eyes, turning to him again. “That would be the right reaction to what happened to me, wouldn’t it?” you rhetorically asked.

He blinked, taken aback by you question. He tried to say something, but you interrupted him. “You know, my reaction is exactly the reason why people started talking. You have to act like a victim, or else you’re the guilty one. But I’m not a victim and I don’t need anyone’s compassion. Not even yours” you added, taking a few steps towards him.

Your tone might have been calm, but the almost imperceptible tremble in your voice gave away the stream of feelings running inside of you.

“I’m independent, I run my own company” you paused, stopping just a few inches away from him. “I didn’t need their money, or yours. You can choose to believe me, or you can leave”

You steadied your voice, looking him straight in the eyes. You didn’t want him to leave, a small voice in the back of your mind was begging him to stay. You didn’t listen to it, though. You loved Luca, you truly loved him and the fact that he thought you could ever hurt him was killing you. But it was his choice. He was free to leave, if he wanted. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, you would find a way to go on, like you always did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Something changed in him, his gaze softened, his voice dropped. It seemed like rage wasn’t blinding him anymore, leaving space for the tenderness he only reserved for you.

“I didn’t want my past to define me” you admitted. “I wanted to leave it behind me, I didn’t want you to look at me and see...” you stopped, not knowing how to express it with words. “I’m more than that”

Luca looked at you in silence. He still had the woman he loved in front of him. You were the same woman he had met the previous year. Everything you were slowly building together felt too genuine and spontaneous to be fake. No one could lie like that. Maybe it was risky, but something in him knew told him you were telling the truth. He knew you were telling the truth. You did what you needed to do to survive. He brought a hand on your cheek, gently stroking it.

“What I see” he said “is a strong, beautiful, independent woman who went through a lot, but who’s capable of making it on her own, without anyone’s help”

You leaned into his touch and placed you hand over his, relieved at his words. Luca was he only man you had ever loved and trusted and the prospect of a life without him terrified you. It would’ve been way too hard to pick up the pieces and find a reason to go on, it would’ve taken too much time for your heart to heal. You had finally found something you wanted to hold on to.

And he loved you too much to leave you.

“I would never hurt you” you whispered “I love you”

He leaned in and kissed you. At first it was soft, tender, until it became desperate, almost rough. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, as you brought your hand to the back of his neck.

He slightly moved away, placing two fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “No more secrets”

“No more secrets”

-

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy

[jonnnysuh]

Never Not - Park Jinyoung

Pairing: idol!Jinyoung x gender neutral reader

Summary: Your bad day is turned around when your childhood best friend, Jinyoung, returns to your hometown and takes you on a tour of your favourite memories together.

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: suggested sexual experience

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hi guysssss. I took a small break from tumblr bc I got super busy with work. I haven’t written something like this in a while, but I actually loved how it turned out. I recommend listening to Never Not by Lauv to get into the mood <33

Effort was hard to make these days. Even the way you walked had an unmistakable slouch. Your exhaustive strides were just a shallow reminder that there used to be a hop in your step. Five more minutes and you were free from the shackles of work. Free to figure out what to make for dinner, and appease the gurgles of your stomach.The seconds on the point of sale system didn't seem to move fast enough as you folded the customer's final item and shoved it into a bag.

When you were a kid, no one told you how exhausting being an adult was, and thus it became something to look forward to. You were so caught up on getting that first kiss, sneaking out to go to parties, seeing people that your parents didn't approve of, that you didn't realize that life didn't slow down from there. It was like you blinked, and you were no longer 16. Instead, you were twenty-something perpetually feeling like life was just an endless pit of "what ifs" and building up the courage to make something of yourself. Another mindless "Have a good day." escaped your lips as you bid a customer bye for the nth time that day. You wondered how many of your years would waste away telling others to have a good day, when you yourself hadn't had one in a while.

You pressed your fingers against your temple to sooth a small growing headache. Working in retail for as long as you had, you knew that the s-curved line of people didn't stop for your discomfort. With a fake smile on your face, you welcomed the next few customers as your eyes wandered around the store looking for the person who was going to take over for the next hour. Fifteen minutes past the hour, your replacement finally came. Externally, you wanted to scream and ask them what took you so long? but you knew that would only make you as good as the worst customer. Graciously, you nodded at them, before walking away to the back room to fetch your things and head out.

...

You stood against the wall at the bus shelter shivering from the cool summer breeze that was disguising just how rapidly autumn was truly coming. Today probably wasn't the best day to forget your coat.  You rubbed your arms for warmth, taking micro footsteps in place.  The pain in your feet made you romanticize the comfort of the sturdy old bus seats as a place of rest. You felt your phone in your pocket vibrate, but you let it ring out. You were determined to get a seat on this bus. A deep sigh escaped you as you surveyed the density of the crowd on the platform- the ride home was definitely going to be longer than usual. When the bus arrived, you queued behind a long line of people. Your phone rang a second time, at this point the crowd was getting larger and you knew you weren't going to get a seat on this bus.

PRIVATE CALLER 

"Hello?" you pressed your phone to your ear. Sometimes your mother used phone booths to reach you, so you expected her voice to be on the other end of the line. "I'm offended I had to call you twice for you to pick up."  The voice was much deeper, and the delivery much more lighthearted than anything that would've came out of your mother.  The absence of a greeting was distinct and direct, but no matter, you knew exactly who this was.

You felt the tenseness of your shoulders drop with just the sound of this voice. "If I had definitely known it was you, I wouldn't have picked up, Mr. Private caller." you jest with the phone  pressed between your ear and the crook of your shoulder.

"You know, I was gonna suggest that I pick you up, but just for that comment, I change my mind."

You poke your tongue at your cheek, coyly. For all the changes that occurred in your life, for some reason you could depend on Jinyoung's quick wit and humour to hit the spot even after all this time.

"That's fine, I just finished work so I was thinking of just going home anyways."  You had no idea he was even back in South Korea. Last you heard, he was on tour somewhere in North America. More than that, you couldn't even remember when the last time you actually talked was. You were curious about what he was up to these days, but you you knew any hint of urgency in your voice would lead to incessant teasing on his part. The line progressed slightly, but you still didn't feel any closer to the entrance of the bus.

  "I'm about to get on a bus home." 

"Well, don't get on." 

"If I don't get on then you're gonna have to repay me for the fare I paid to even get here." You eyed the bus reaching its capacity, and stepped aside. You twisted your fingers in hope that he was being 100% serious, otherwise you were going to have to wait out for the 6:30pm bus.

"I can't believe the cost of your attention is only $2. Do better." the voice quipped. 

"Okay, Jinyoung I guess I'll just get on, then." you threatened, although you had no intention of boarding the departing bus.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for your fare. Just wait for me."

...

The sky had darkened tenfold since you hung up from Jinyoung's impromptu call. The streetlights glowed gold against the lavender backdrop of the sky. You sat on the bus shelter bench, swinging your feet back and forth as you waited for him. If he took even a minute longer, you vowed to somehow become the president of the Park Jinyoung hate club. Of course, you wouldn't actually, but the idea became more appealing the longer you waited. 

You weren't one to go on spontaneous outings- at least not since your teenage years. Recently, you followed the strict routine of work, home, sleep, and to stray from it seemed pointless. But the fact that he even thought of you when he came back home to South Korea was still not something you could wrap your head around.

In the distance, a glow of headlights appeared, stopping perfectly adjacent to your bus stop. The window rolled down, and there appeared Jinyoung's face in all its glory. To say all the words in your vocabulary disappeared would be an understatement. A part of you doubted he would even follow through. Without missing a beat, he returned a look to you. "You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get in the car?"

...

Your backpack was sitting atop your lap, bouncing with the movement of the car. Jinyoung hung one hand over the steering wheel. The orange and purple of the sky twisting, and creating a brand new colour that only seemed to grace the skies at this hour. The music was unidentifiable, but the volume was low enough that you didn't even bother trying to figure it out.

"So what'd you do today?" he asked. 

"I worked, I told you that." you replied, matter-of-factly.

"And how was it?"

"I honestly can't tell the difference between this week and last week. Or even last month. Same old, same old. Annoying customers, stale lunch, forgot my jacket at home even though it's 15 fucking degrees outside." 

"Do you still work at that clothing store you started at when we were 20?"

  Your eyes shifted, following the ever-changing scenery of the highway. No idea where he was bringing you, and yet you were brought to comfort by Jinyoung's habits.  You knew he didn't have a drug deal, or a random party planned.  Jinyoung was always the type to be home before midnight. He was a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, but you weren't completely fooled. You knew he could bend the rules if it seemed to serve him.

  "That exact same one."

 "Anything else?"

  You looked at him, the shock settling in that he was really right next to you-- no longer just a figure on a billboard that you used to know. The changes of his physicality were subtle; his face was more defined, but his cheeks still carried the baby fat that had been there since childhood. The shadow of his facial hair loomed on his smooth skin. The mole on the top of his lip, not necessarily gone, but faded. He looked older, but the aura of his presence remained the same.

"And then I was dumb enough to get into a car with a stranger because he said he'd give me $2."

Jinyoung side eyed you, causing you to erupt in laughter. His glare was also unchanging. "Stranger? Your memory's fading already?" He shook his head disappointedly. "I thought you still had a few good years left."

  "Oh yeahhhhhh. Sorry Jinyoungie. Didn't recognize you with all the fame." you pinched and pulled on his ear- both things a relic of your grade school years. When you were kids, you never let him forget the age gap. Granted, it was only 3 days, but that gave you the freedom to refer to him however you pleased, while he was stuck with the honorifics.

As you let go, the curve of his ear flushed red. "OWW.” he cried, swatting your hand away. “You’re lucky I’m driving otherwise I would pull your hair.”

Being raised with Jinyoung meant that you were inseparable but kind of in the worst way. If Jinyoung got  a good mark on a test, his parents would immediately flaunt it to yours. If you wanted to sneak out, he was on your tail telling you to go back home. And if he knew you liked someone, then that person would know soon enough by the words of Jinyoung. All of that warranted ear pulling, and if you did something in retaliation he would pull your hair.

He was one of the few people in your life, who encapsulated a certain time of your life.  The time in your life when you were young, and the world felt so big and everything was possible.

  The car rocked back and forth as it shifted into the elevated ramp of a parking lot. Your eyes widened as you realized where you were.  He lingered in his seat before popping his seatbelt off and exiting the car. You followed him, swinging the passenger door open.

  "So you randomly called me because you wanted to hang out at the...convenience store?" you gestured to the old, orangey building. The bricks were chipped, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the outside through the big glass window.  You remember the days when you and Jinyoung would sit on the parking blocks and split a bag of chips until you were chased off the property by the owner. He pulled on the store door, pressing his back to it and letting you enter first. 

"Well, I wasn't going to come here until you started yanking my ears. That's when I knew you were hungry."

Without stopping, you weaved through the store until you reached aisle 3- the snack aisle had become a home to you and Jinyoung when you were growing up. In grade school, you were both fearful of what was beyond the boundaries of your home and school so you indulged in after school snacks at the convenience to talk about the latest happenings in your life. As you aged, it became the place of solace after exams, or the meetup location for last minute plans.

  He picked up a package of gummy worms, and shook them in your face. "Do you remember what happened the last time we ate theseeee?" Jinyoung smirked. For a moment, you were taken aback by how much he had grown. In your teens, you and Jinyoung met eye to eye. Now, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to be taken seriously.

  You crossed your arms, "Yeah, we ate them in the parking lot and you made me confess who I had a crush on." 

"Chan, right?" 

You nodded, with a sulk as you reminisced. "That wasn't fair."

 "Why? Do you still have a crush on him?" 

"I haven't thought about him in so long. You really think I'd have a lingering crush on a guy I haven't seen in years?"

Jinyoung shrugged, and shifted his feet. "You had a huge crush on him, though. You even stared at him like this." He rested his palm to his cheek, letting out a deep sigh while trying to maintain an enamoured expression. You snorted, hitting him on the chest. "You'd write his name all over your notebooks AND you bullied me into giving you one of my new ones." he added.

You let out a belly laugh. "And then I wrote his name all over that one too."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "They were premium quality notebooks. My aunt sent me them from the states!"

 "You had a kabillion of them. Besides, you pestered me for-like-ever to know who I liked, but you never even told me who you had a crush on." You grabbed the bag of gummy worms from his hand and placed it in your shopping basket. Your attention shifted, as you realized you should be in search of your favourite chocolates. You knew that you were far too old to be eating junk food for dinner, but there was something familiar about being hyped up on food that you knew would rot your insides. Your eyes landed on the top row of the wall, and before you could grab your favourite chocolates, Jinyoung stripped it from the wall and dropped it into the basket. He piled on a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then you both ventured to the drink refrigerators.

  Both of you stared deeply at your drink options. On each level of the fridge, stood several different colourful drinks. If you knew Jinyoung, then you knew he would pick a Coke- it was something he swore by in your younger years. You hummed, mentally deciding between an iced tea or a vitamin water.  You weren't sure why it bothered you when Jinyoung picked up a Sprite, but you tried to hide your dismay. With an ice tea in hand, and a basket full of both of your favourite things, you made your way to the cashier.

  At the last moment, Jinyoung placed a bright yellow umbrella on the checkout counter. He looked down at you, surely, “You never know when it’s gonna rain.”

...

The following car ride to your next destination only lasted about 3 minutes before he parked on the side of the road and dragged you down the street, with the plastic bag full of your foods in hand. 

"I should've known you were going to bring me here." you said, strolling down the familiar gravel pathway towards your elementary school. All colour in the sky had disappeared now, finding it hard to see anything but the outline of each other and some features.

  Both of you settled on the grass field, onlooking the tall school building that was the foundation of your formal years. As soon as you opened the bag of chips, you found yourselves deep in conversation, talking about what life had been for him the last few years. You couldn't help but be in awe when he explained the rush he got when he got on stage, and how he got anxiety when he thought he wasn’t doing his best.  The candidacy of his thoughts drew you in and you were surprised that he trusted you with his secrets. 

All these years, you had always wondered what he was up to, if he was living a life far better than the one he left at home.  To everyone else, he was this huge pop star that had travelled the world 3 times over, but to you, he was your best friend who left home at 16. You had seen him through the bad hair phases, the adolescent temper tantrums, the voice cracks, and the questionable fashion choices both your parents had put you in.

  He leaned back on his arms as he gazed at the school. "Are you afraid of change?" You were silent for a moment as you thought. "On a scale of 1-10?" you rocked your head back and forth. "It's a 15."

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. You held your legs to your chest, and looked at him. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and looked smugly in the other direction. "Heyyy." you poked him repeatedly. "You can't just ask me that and not tell me why."

He enclosed his hand around your finger, forcing your poking to come to a halt. It felt like he was studying your face. Never in your life had you ever felt like you were under the scope of Jinyoung's gaze. The darkness of the sky acted as a mask, hiding your blushing face.

"It was the last thing I asked you before I left." he admitted. "I asked you that when things were about to change big time for us… I always wondered if you resented me for leaving you behind."

  The last day before Jinyoung left to become a full-time trainee, you two snuck on to this very same field. Both of you ran across the grass, picking up dandelions; believing that if you gathered enough and blew on them, that they would fuel your wishes.

  “You thought I could resent you?” He nodded. “Well, for starters, I hate your guts.” You replied sarcastically, causing him to look at the ground with embarrassment and your face softened at the sight of it.

  “You know what I wished for on all of those dandelions, Jinyoung?”

 “Not to fail the math exam.” Even in a soft moment, he couldn’t help but be sly. “No!” You exclaimed. 

“Well, you should’ve. You got a 48.” He sensed your killer look on him. “So what’d you wish for?”

You played with your fingers. You thought you’d take this secret to the grave. “I wished that you’d be successful in whatever you chose to do.” His eyes enlarged, alarmed at your confession. “but maybe I should’ve wished for the math thing.”

  Jinyoung giggled, inching closer to you so your legs were pressed against each other. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked. He smiled with the side of his mouth, shaking his head. 

“I wished that I’d always find my way back home.” “Oh goddd.” You gagged. “you’re so corny.”

 “What about you, huh? You used your wish on me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the school playground. 

“Hey, I might just be the reason why you’re famous.” You fought back.

You flipped your phone over, 7:53, the brightness of it only barely illuminating the dark. You thought about what you would be doing at this moment if you weren’t here, if he hadn’t picked you up.  Mmm probably falling asleep to a tv show. Probably dreading tomorrow. Probably not as happy.

"But what did I say? You know… the first time you asked me that question?” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how 16-year-old you answered.

  "You said you were excited to see who we were going to become.” The words of your younger self were so hopeful, yet your current self felt hopeless. Your expression sank, and Jinyoung offered a small smile to revive it. He felt guilty having asked you the question in the first place.

You sat in silence for a bit, dwelling on the excitement for life that you once had. Where was it? And how could you get it back?

“I feel like I’ve let myself down. I don’t even know who I am now.”

Jinyoung blinked slowly, watching his childhood best friend crumble. He rested a hand on your shoulder.  "I just look at you, and in so many ways you're the same. I still know what makes you laugh, and the way you say things. I can still pick out your favourite snacks, and know you’re gonna pull my ears when I do something to piss you off.” he yanked on yours softly. "Everything about you feels just how I left you. I feel my youth when I'm with you. But at the same time I’m comforted by how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” You shook your head no. “Do you remember how scared you were to even leave the house when we were kids? Now you live on your own. You never took anything seriously back then, but you’re now one of the hardest working people I know…” his voice softened. “And you let yourself be vulnerable with me when it used to take hours to drag it out of you.” You laid on his shoulder, and he rested his head on top of yours, snuggling closer. “You fear change, yet you’re changing right before your own eyes. And maybe one day, I’ll come back here, and I won’t even be able to recognize who you’ve become.” You sniffled, the idea of Jinyoung not remembering you broke your heart. You held your chest. “But if that day does come, it’ll be okay. Because I know that the person that you’ve become will have it all figured out.  I’ll always be rooting for every single version of yourself even if it doesn’t include me.” You sobbed quietly, interlocking your fingers with his. He held your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. For once, there was an action not done out of habit or relic. It was an action evoked just for this moment, and it was a change that you didn’t mind.

…

Jinyoung held your hand, leading you down a narrow road a few minutes away. The sound of crickets, barking dogs, and distant vehicles could be heard as you stood in the middle of the road of your childhood neighbourhood.

  You hadn’t been here since you moved in 2016. You looked up at the large modern house that sat on what used to be two lots. Yours and Jinyoung’s childhood homes were purchased by a wealthy business man and demolished to build the business man’s dream home. You stared at the foreign house that sat on the place of your childhood dreams and frustrations.

  Jinyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and stopped you at the exact halfway point between what was once his house and your house. You rubbed your arms as a gust of wind rushed by. Without thinking, Jinyoung slipped off his hoodie and placed it on top of your shoulders.

“I remember racing you down this street.” You piped up, pointing down the end of the road. Jinyoung always won that race. No one was faster than him on this street.

“I remember finding that stray puppy and fighting over who got to keep it.” He responded.

“It should’ve been me.” You bickered. Jinyoung laughed, amused at how you were always one to hold a grudge.

“Do you remember that day when it started raining soooo hard and we had to walk shoulder to shoulder under my umbrella?”

You nodded. “Ya, that was the same day with the gummy worms, you dummy.”

“So do you remember what happened right here?” He pointed at the exact spot you were standing. You racked your head for a memory, but nothing stood out to you clearly. You shook your head no. “We always said bye to one another here...but…?” you trailed off.

He took a step forward, both of you standing directly under the streetlight now. You watched his face light up as he likely played the moment back in his head. “So that day, standing under my umbrella, we were about to go our separate ways. You turned into me.”

He took another step closer, popping open the bright yellow convenience store umbrella and holding it over your heads.

You could see it now. It was drizzling so hard, even your hair wasn’t protected from getting soaked.   You wrapped your hands around the handle, just like how you did back then. Chest to chest, huddled under the umbrella. Jinyoung locked eyes with you, your heart beat faster.

“And you looked at me, and I swear I was going to say everything I wanted to tell you right then and there.” Your mouth opened in shock. “This was the place where I almost told you I loved you.”

You studied the eyes of the boy you watched grow up. He looked scared, but sure. There was no doubt in your mind that Jinyoung meant what he said. He lowered the umbrella, not letting his gaze veer from you.

  Your life was just a build up of what if’s and trying to gain the courage to make something of yourself… but you didn’t want that anymore. With your heart beating out of control, you leaned into him, taking the risk and kissing his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the heat of the kiss.

A round of thunder boomed above you, and little by little, raindrops began to pour from the sky.

You and Jinyoung separated to look up at the sky. “I did say, you never know when it’s gonna rain.”

You both ran for the car, shoulder to shoulder, under the umbrella. From your heads to your toes, you were soaked in the rain, but neither of you cared. You silently thanked the world for every bad thing that happened to you today that led to this.

…

You blinked your eyes awake, surveying the damp clothes strewn across your living room floor, and the heat of the bare body laying next to you on the couch. You stared at your sleepy childhood best friend, a smile spreading across your lips. This was a change you were ready for. 

[baepsaesbae]

Pag Lubog Ng Araw || When the Sun Goes Down

Pairing— Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre— SMUT, Angst, Enemies to Lovers au, Delinquent gang au

Warnings— Oral (f receiving), face riding, explicit unprotected sex, somewhat rough sex, fighting (they engage in fisticuffs quite a bit), swearing

Word Count— 2.4k

Summary— The gang leader of an enemy group has been getting on your nerves. This town ain’t big enough for the both of you. 

A/N— Thank you @dollwithluv for requesting! I hope you like it! I got kinda carried away with this one oops. You can still request drabbles up until the end of the August with this post

“Is that all you got, Jeon?” you spat in his face after blocking a powerful kick.

“I’m going easy on you. Just testing out the waters,” Jungkook smirked before landing another blow, knocking you aside.

Now it’s your turn to show off. With your balance regained, you launched forward to unleash a flurry of fast punches and jabs on Jungkook’s torso. That made Jungkook stagger backwards, but it wasn’t nearly close enough to knock him down. And so the scuffle continued. 

You and your gang of girls ruled this town, striking fear into any man who dared looked your way. Or so you thought. Recently, a rowdy group of boys were looking to expand their territory--directly into yours. Of course, you weren’t going down without a fight. Literally.

“You idiots get lost! We’ve been here for ages,” one of your posse members yelled over your skirmish. 

“Why don’t you ladies just move aside? You’ll be under our protection once we take over. You guys can even continue patrolling like you normally would. The only difference is that you’d be flying under our banner, so to speak. That ain’t too bad, right?” one of the boys from Jungkook’s band of delinquents (you believe his name was Seokjin) tried to reason. 

“Over my dead body!” you screamed as you exchanged blows with Jungkook.

“That can be arranged,” Jungkook gritted his teeth. 

“Get em boss!” underlings from both sides cheered. 

10 minutes later, both you and Jungkook were battered and bruised. Jungkook’s lip was busted and your nose was bleeding. Both sides concluded that the match was a draw.

“You’re tougher than I thought,” Jungkook acknowledged.

“I’ll knock your ass to the ground and beat you to a pulp next time,” you threatened with a menacing glare.

“So feisty,” Jungkook chuckled as he spat out blood.

Back at your gang’s headquarters (an abandoned shack that you refurbished), your friends tended to your wounds. 

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to jump in and smash his skull in,” Nayeon tsked as she bandaged your hands, “But I know you would’ve hung my booty above your fireplace if I meddled.”

“I appreciate the concern. He roughed me up pretty good, but I’m sure he’s licking his wounds right now too. Plus this is a leader to leader thing. You are my girls, and I’m gonna fight for you till the very end,” you gave them a thumbs up with a smug smile.

The girls cheered and applauded for their fearless leader. They know that past your tough exterior, you’re a fiercely loyal kind hearted person. Most of the gals joined your group after you saved them from being harassed or abused by various men. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s misogynists. Or maybe just men in general. 

Both gangs practically tiptoed around each other for the following weeks while their leaders were still recovering. You tried devising plans to run them out of town. Your gang was bigger, so you’d definitely win in an all out war against seven guys. But you quickly brushed that idea aside, not wanting to endanger your crew. 

“We gotta have another showdown,” you concluded during a gang meeting. 

“What?! You got so hurt last time. There’s no way we could let you--”

“Shut up! What ___ says goes. You know that,” Nayeon silenced the complaint. 

“Sunmi, bring this letter to the Bulletproof Boy Scouts. I still can’t believe they named themselves that,” you snickered as you handed her a paper with a formal challenge scribbled on it. 

“Uh, boss, I don’t think we’ll need to send that letter,” someone called out from the back after there was a pounding on the door. 

“Open it,” you commanded.

Standing on the other side of the door was a pretty boy whose smile lit up the room. No one would believe that he’s in a delinquent gang, you barely could. But then again, it seemed like that gang only recruited models with a penchant for violence and mischief. 

“Hey pretty ladies! I’m Jimin. I come on behalf of the leader of the Bangtan Boys. He wants a final showdown. Only him and ___ are allowed in the specified location while they fight. He said the rest of us can brawl outside if we felt like it, but I’ll leave that decision up to the audience. Here’s our official note of challenge,” Jimin handed a crumpled receipt to the nearest girl, “Sorry, that was the only paper we had on hand,” he apologized sheepishly. 

“Sundown two days from now at the vacant warehouse huh? Sounds fine to me. Any rules?” you raised a brow at Jimin after reading the challenge aloud. 

“I dunno. That’s all the boss discussed with us. Figured you two would make it up as you go. In terms of weapons, Jungkook prefers to use his hands,” Jimin answered.

“So practically no rules. I can roll with that. See you boys in two days,” you shooed the messenger away. 

“Are you sure about this? You’re finally starting to recover--”

“Gear up. You’re gonna help me spar,” you interrupted Nayeon. You didn’t have any time to waste before the rematch. 

~The Day of Reckoning~

Your girl gang surrounded the warehouse. They weren’t happy about leaving you alone, but they were ready to keep anyone else from interfering. You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited at the front. 

“Is this heaven? There are angels as far as the eye can see!” one of the boys whistled as soon as they pulled up. 

“I wouldn’t count on that, Tae. These gals would probably stab you in your sleep and steal your wallet or something. Not like you have any money in there anyway,” Jungkook teased.

The group of boys sauntered through the crowd of sneering women until Jungkook stood directly in front of you. 

“Let’s settle this once and for all, you piece of shit. Loser skips town,” you asserted.

“Works for me. I’ll hate to see you go,” Jungkook’s tongue quickly darted to lick the corner of his mouth. The action was meant to be intimidating, but it stirred something inside of you. You tossed the feeling aside; he was the enemy. And you’re about to kick his ass.

The warehouse smelled like mold mixed with wet dogs. It was dark. The only light source was the sun’s rays that shone through cracks and holes in the walls or from the partly torn off ceiling. It was already dwindling. Jungkook loudly slammed the door behind him. You led him to the middle of the building, turning to face him before the fight could start. 

“Hope you enjoyed your time here,” you taunted.

“We did. We like it here better than our own hometown. You sure you don’t wanna just let us take over? I won’t have to ruin that pretty face of yours,” Jungkook offered again. 

“Fuck off Jeon,” you scoffed before throwing the first punch. 

You found yourself locked in a repetitive pattern of offensive and defensive moves. Jungkook’s attacks felt heavier, but you moved even faster. It seemed like both of you had reserved your full strength last time. 

Jungkook’s last punch knocked you off balance. He took the opportunity to knock you to the ground, effectively pinning you under him. He leaned close to your face and smiled maliciously down at you as he assumed that his victory was assured. He was wrong.

You banged your head against his with as much force as you could muster. In a flash, your positions had been switched. Jungkook groaned in agony under you as you tightened your hold on him. 

“Surrender, or I’ll pulverize you,” you threatened.

“Let me tell you something first,” he wheezed.

You reluctantly moved closer to him, but were on guard just in case he tried to headbutt you. 

“Closer,” he demanded.

“No fuck you--”

Jungkook used the last of his strength to repel his upper body towards you to plant a rough kiss on your lips. You looked at him in shock, releasing your grip. Jungkook placed his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you towards him, stopping you just centimeters in front of his lips. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I have a thing for strong women,” he whispered. 

You lunged forward and knocked Jungkook flat on his back as you kissed him ferociously. The taste of blood was tinged with desire as the kiss deepened. No one could deny that Jungkook is a handsome boy. Seeing him all beaten up made him even more attractive to you, especially knowing that he’s tough enough to compete with you. 

“You know, I thought you looked cute with a busted lip,” you said when you broke the kiss.

“I’d look even cuter if you busted on my lip,” he winked, “Ride my face, ___. Please,” he added. 

“What? Right now? I’m all sweaty because we’ve been fighting and--”

“I don’t give a shit. Let me taste you. Unless you’re uncomfortable, of course,” Jungkook showed his decent side. 

“In that case,” you say as you slide off your pants.

You kneel above Jungkook’s face, your clothed cunt hovering inches away from his open mouth. 

“Come. Here,” Jungkook roughly pulled you down onto his mouth. 

He licked wide stripes along your panties, soaking them with both his saliva and your arousal. Ripping the measly piece of material off, he dove nose first into your pussy. His tongue explored your folds, making you squirm. He placed a strong grip on your hips to hold you firmly in place. He moved his arm to let his hand rest right above your pussy. 

Without warning, his thumb began to circle your swollen clit. You whimpered at his touch. The pace of his thumb synced up with his tongue as he shallowly dipped it into you. You could feel something ball up within you. No doubt your climax was on a one way express train pummeling towards its final stop. Destination: All over Jungkook’s face. 

“Jeon I--I’m gonna” you shuddered.

“Lay it on me baby,” he said, muffled by your pussy.

A euphoric high took over your body a couple of intense seconds later. You were tingling from your nose down to your toes as you weakly dismounted Jungkook. He licked around his mouth, savoring your cum.

“I guess you’re right, you do look better after I busted all over your lips. And face. Sorry bout the mess,” you laughed. 

“You could let me fuck you if you really wanna make it up to me,” Jungkook suggested as he palmed his groin. 

“Do you fuck as well as you eat pussy?” you inquired as you sat beside him. 

“Only one way to find out. You down?” he propped himself up by his elbows.

“Fuck me senseless, pretty boy,” you requested. 

“Sure thing, except,” Jungkook pushed you onto your back, “I’m on top this time.” 

Jungkook shimmied out of his pants, revealing his already hard dick. It wasn’t too girthy, but it was long. You had a feeling he’d hit all the right places with ease. You were still sopping wet, so Jungkook slid in without a problem. He took his time feeling every inch of you before finally bottoming out. 

Jungkook began to fuck you harder, making your entire body shake with each impact. Your wanton moans mixed with his grunts as he snapped his hips faster. His hand snaked its way from your chest up to your neck. He placed a harsh grip on the sides and smiled down at you with satisfaction. Normally you’d enjoy this, but not today. Not with Jungkook.

A quick jab at his side prompted him to release you and nearly double over. Before he had the chance to cuss you out, you flipped him over, reclaiming your rightful place. You ease yourself back onto his cock, bringing him back to a blissful state. 

You rode him like your life depended on it. Your hips had a mind of their own as they rocked back and forth. Jungkook groaned with pleasure as he rested his hands on your hips. You began to fuck him with a purpose, changing your pace.

“Whatcha doin?” he moaned.

“Spelling my name on your dick. Now it belongs to me,” you answered proudly. 

“Oh fuck, is that so? Are we dating or some shit?”

“Shut up and we’ll figure it out post nut,” you hushed him.

You brought up your knees and squatted over him with your feet on the ground. You bounced up and down and let yourself get lost in the moment. Your carnal voices harmonized and echoed throughout the abandoned warehouse. The sun had finally set, now replaced by the pale moonlight. 

“Baby keep going, just like that. I’m gonna cum. Wait fuck should we be using a con--uuuggghhhh,” Jungkook didn’t get to finish that sentence.

He exploded into you, his warm seed shooting up into you. You bent over to kiss him once more. What was meant to be a quick peck turned into a heated makeout session. 

“Give me a little bit before I can fuck you again,” Jungkook said once the kiss broke. 

“We have more pressing matters to address. Uh, what exactly should we do now? I don’t know if we can really declare a winner or a loser,” you pointed out. 

“I’d say we were both winners today,” Jungkook nodded.

“Interesting…” you thought out loud.

“What?”

“Are you still open to combining forces? Only this time, we’d be on equal footing. We can make a stronger gang together,” you suggested. 

“I don’t see why not. Everyone is outside anyway right? Let’s go break the news,” Jungkook agreed. 

“We both look like shit. And we smell awful,” you observed.

“Eh, it happens. They gotta respect their leaders no matter what, right?” Jungkook shrugged. 

Both Nayeon and Jimin fell into the warehouse as soon as you opened the door. 

“We weren’t doing anything!” Nayeon said quickly.

“We were just wondering if one or both of you were dead, so we tried to see if we could hear you guys and…” Jimin couldn’t maintain eye contact with either of you.

You pushed them aside and walked out to face the delinquents that were eagerly awaiting the official verdict.  

“Listen up dirtbags! Starting today, we will be combining forces. We are now one gang, and we’re gonna be the strongest gang this country has ever seen!” you announced.

“You hear that boys? We’ll be seeing these angels on the regular!” Jungkook chimed in. 

“What the hell?!” was the resounding response as Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and locked his lips with yours.

Published August 11th, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[petri808]

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Inukag angst w/happy ending

Two weeks after the accident, Inuyasha received a phone call from his ex to check on him. She’d just heard about the accident and wanted to make sure he was okay. He knew he’d sworn to cut off all contact, but in his grief, Inuyasha latched onto any form of comfort he could and agreed to meet the woman for lunch one last time. Miroku tried to advise against it, only backing down when Inuyasha swore he would cut off all ties after this last meeting. It was just lunch, what could it hurt? It was only fair of him to cut the woman off face to face instead of cowardly through a phone call.

It was a little awkward, he couldn’t lie. But the lunch had been progressing well in a platonic way. Inuyasha was careful not to do anything that might lead the woman on... at least that’s what he believed because to him they really were just friends. They’d dated through high school, but when they graduated, Kikyo decided she wanted to pursue college away from their hometown, and that a long distance relationship rarely worked in her eyes. Inuyasha hadn’t been happy about it at the time, but life went on. He went to the local college and started working for his father’s company when his coworker Miroku introduced him to his then girlfriend Sango’s best friend and the rest as they say, was history.

By the time Kikyo returned, Inuyasha was absolutely smitten with his new girlfriend Kagome. He’d let his anger about his ex go and agreed to remain friends. What did it matter to him anyways since he was happily in love. Inuyasha could never have realized that just five years later that choice would cause his whole world to come crashing down.

“Oh, Inuyasha,” Kikyo reached over the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry this happened.”

He hung his head and ears drooped. “I just keep thinking about how I could’ve prevented all of this.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. Kagome chose to act childish and emotional, that’s not your fault.”

Inuyasha pulled his hand away and eyes narrowed at the woman. Did he just hear her right?! “She was upset, with every right to be since I was being stupid. That doesn’t make her childish.”

“Inuyasha please,” the woman rolled her eyes. “Kagome doesn’t deserve your protection. Weak people like her aren’t worth stressing over.”

It was an instantaneous lightning bolt strike to Inuyasha’s head. He knew Kikyo could be harsh, but throughout the entire time he was with Kagome, the woman never talked so lowly of his girlfriend. Yet now that Kagome wasn’t around to defend herself, Kikyo’s true colors were blatantly shining through. Inuyasha immediately pushed away from the table and stood up. “All this time,” the deep growl evident in his tone, “I thought Kagome was just being ridiculous in her accusations, but you’ve just shown me she was telling the truth all along.” He glared at his ex, his eyes turning red in anger. “I’m such an idiot for defending you! It’s because of you we fought that night and now she’s still paying the price! I’m done Kikyo.” He gritted out. “Don’t you ever contact me again or so help me I will make you pay for your part in this!”

“Inuyasha!” She called after his fleeing form. “Inu don’t do this! I still love you!”

But he was done. He stopped cold to address Kikyo one last time. “No, you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t try to hurt me, but all you’ve done is hurt me. It’s over!”

Ugh! How he wanted to tear something apart! Inuyasha got into his car and gripped to the steering wheel of his car so tightly his knuckles were blanched white. “Fucking bitch!” He roared as he gunned it out of the parking lot towards... towards... “FUCK!!!!” Where? He hated being in his empty house and the guilt tearing him up inside at that moment, it just wouldn’t be right to go to the hospital. Miroku was bound to give him the I told you so speech and while deserving, really wasn’t what he needed or wanted to hear.

There was only one place he could think to run to.

He knocked at the family’s door with his head hung unable to look the woman in the eyes.

“Inuyasha?”

“Momma Higurashi, can I come in?”

“Of course,” she moved aside and gestured for him to enter. Once he dropped onto the living room couch, she sat beside him with a hand on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re gonna hate me—”

“I don’t think that’s possible, so just tell me everything.”

If his head could sink lower it would at the words unloading like a waterfall after a storm as he recounted the twisted triangle, he now knew was real. Kagome had been so right all along about Kikyo, but the woman’s devious and manipulative nature tricked him into believing it was just in the rival’s head. All this time Inuyasha thought Kagome was acting like the jealous one, and in the end, it was his ex all along. How is he supposed to fix this?

“I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me for what I’ve done to your daughter, but I just couldn’t go home...” Tear pool in his eyes ready to burst just thinking about how empty he felt in that moment. “I can’t stand being in our home without her there, it hurts too fucking much.”

“Inuyasha, I don’t hate you. Am I upset, yes, but there’s no hate in me. I can see that you understand now along with the pain you’re going through, and that encourages me to forgive you.” Mrs. Higurashi cradled his face and brought it up so she could look into his eyes. “How could I hate the man who loves my daughter so much that he’s willing to bear his soul to their mother like this? I couldn’t ask for a better son-in-law.”

“But look at how much pain I’ve caused, how can you be so nice to me?”

“Because Kagome wouldn’t want me to hold this against you.”

With that, Inuyasha lost his remaining composure and sobbed even harder, letting the motherly figure simply hold him tight and stroke his back while he processed her words. She was right, Kagome’s heart was the purest he’d ever encountered who would look past the flaws and hold onto the positives. She wanted him for him, and if a person were deserving, fought to show them they are worth so much more. That’s probably why it took so many years for Kagome to leave that night. She’d always held out hope that Inuyasha would see the truth.

As Mrs. Higurashi soothed the despairing Hanyo, she spoke. “I know how hard this is Inuyasha, but Kagome’s body is healing and getting better every day. When she wakes up, she’ll need our love and support more than ever to get her through this.”

“I know...” he rumbled into the woman’s shoulder. “It’s just so scary to think, she won’t even know who I am.”

“And that’s why it’s so important for you to stay strong and help her remember, to show her the man she’d fallen in love with is still there for her.”

“You’re right… do you think she will… love me again?”

“I think so.”

The woman’s words seemed to satisfy Inuyasha for the time being. If Kagome woke up not remembering him it’ll hurt, deeply, but that just meant he’ll need to try even harder to win back her heart— and damn it! It was a challenge Inuyasha was not willing to lose. He couldn’t lose this fight or the road it might lead him down was... not something he ever wanted to think about. This time around he had the advantage of knowing all the things that make her happy, so he’ll put it all to good use. And if at some point Kagome regains her lost memories, hopefully the fact he remembered and did such things gave her the strength to forgive him.

Inuyasha released a grounding exhale. Now that he had a pseudo plan, a tiny weight felt lifted from his shoulders. But one remained. He pulled away from Momma Higurashi as he wiped away the drying tears from his cheeks. “Could I ask for one more favor?”

“Sure, dear.”

“I don’t wanna go home tonight. It’s too lonely.”

“Oh,” she smiled gently. “You’re welcome to use Kagome’s old room. Maybe it’ll bring you a small measure of comfort.”

Whether or not it would, it was better than a cold and empty house. “Thank you.”

And it did help to some degree. Kagome’s lingering scent in the room was both a comfort and a curse. It reminded him of her absence, yet the familiarity was soothing enough to relax him, to remind him of her presence and the importance of staying true to his choices. So, as he lay there that night staring up at her ceiling, Inuyasha allowed the happier memories to come back. Of nights when they first started dating, or times he’d snuck into this very room to watch her sleep. In those early days, he’d been much more brash and walled off to her advances— yes, her advances. He had still been in pain from the break-up with Kikyo when they’d met, but Kagome’s gentle pushing and prodding eventually morphed into something more. She was a shoulder to cry on, and the strength he needed to mend a broken heart. Even the anger he once felt about losing his mother at a young age had haunted him, and it was Kagome who helped those wounds to heal. He really owed the woman a lot, and now it was his turn to return the favor.

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You  ⏤ Oscar Díaz.

Summary: You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 3,714

Warnings: Angst - Smut-ish - Abusive Ex Mentions

A/N: Hola!!!! I am obsessed with On My Block and of course with papi chulo Oscar ‘Spooky’ Díaz! I’ve spent last week thinking on what to write and finaaally, this came out. I am so happy how this turned out and it’s my first time writing Oscar.

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. ❤

The sounds of sirens roamed the air as you woke up for your first official day as a high school teacher in Freeridge. A sigh escaped your lips as you laid in bed. After all these years you were back in the city that made you who you were and made you want more than what you had. Yet you were back in the same block you thought you’d only visit on holidays. Pushing the thoughts away, you prep yourself for the day and head to the school. 

Everything looked, sounded and even smelled the same as it did six years ago. The streets were the same, the tags on the allies and walls were the same. Walking to the school gave you deja-vu vibes, bringing you back to your own high school days. 

“No puede ser,” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the peculiar gruff voice. You were so into your own thoughts that you didn’t notice which house you were walking by. Slowly you looked to your left and saw him, Oscar Diaz alias Spooky. 

It was like your body turned into the body of a teenage girl, your knees slowly getting weak and your heart rate starting to rise. Yet you didn’t show him that, you wore your unbothered mask. Not showing him that just by listening to his voice, made your heart beat so fast. Turning to your right, your eyes found him, sitting widely and without a care in the world on the old couch that was in his front yard. 

Years have passed by and that damn old couch is still there… You thought standing front of his yard. He took a long drag of his joint before slowly standing up from the coach. You breathed in heavily watching him walk towards you with his unique cholo flow. His hands were formed into tight fists and he walked slowly with his shoulders puffed and tight.

Oscar stood a couple steps away from you, “What are you doing in these streets? Looking like a high ass student.” 

“You don’t see me in how many years and that’s your first thought?” 

He glanced to the side and chuckled, “That wasn’t my first thought,” Looking back at you, “It was ‘she looks like a fine ass hyna’ pero no lo dije porque esa ropa threw me off.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “It's called casual professional.”

“Whatever,” he said. You two stayed quiet looking at each other, he looked you up and down, clenching his jaw. “No contestaste la pregunta. ¿Que haces en mis calles?”

You scoffed, “Your streets?”

He nodded once as his expression was serious and his eyes were clouded with what it seemed like rage. You recognized the physical aspects of him, maybe a couple tattoos more like the tear on his cheek but it was like you didn’t know the person looking back at you. “Answer me.”

“I’m back,” you told him and his eyebrow rose for a second. It was the first time you’ve said it outloud. “Got a job at the high school.” 

Instantly he laughed out loud in a high pitched mocking one.“¿Maestra? That’s why you're back?” 

You nodded, re-adjusting your bag, “Among other things but yeah.” 

He formed a small flat smile yet didn’t say a thing. 

A teenage boy walked out of the house, he looked like a small version of Spooky. It didn’t take you long to recognize him. 

“Cesar,” you said with a smile.

He gave you a weird look, obviously not recognizing you. 

“Hey…” he stood next to his brother, “Do I know you?”

“Yeah, you just don’t remember me,” you told him with a small smirk. “I’ve met you since you were this little.” You motion his short kid height with your hand.

“This is Y/N,” Oscar told his brother.

“How do you guys know each other?’

Your eyes met his, “We went to school together.”

“I’ve never seen you around here,” Cesar said - his eyes were still confused. 

“I moved right after high school, now I’m back,” you eyes looked at Oscar for a second and then went back to his brother. “Are you going to school?” Cesar nodded. “Cool, I’ll probably see you in class.” 

Cesar frowned his eyebrows, “You’re a teacher?” 

You nodded and looked back at Oscar, “Te veo, fool.” 

As you walked away from him, you heard Cesar asking how could his brother let a woman call him a fool. The grunt escaping Oscar’s inside made you smirk. 

“Don’t ask and get in the car,” was the last thing you heard Oscar say. 

Oscar drove slowly besides you. 

“Y/N,” he said, “need a ride?” 

You looked down at him, “I’m fine.” 

“Ándale,” he was about to persuade you.

“Te dije que estoy bien,” you told him, “siguelo.” 

He observed you with squinted eyes, “Vale, te veo fool.”

You smirked and continued with your path. As you approached the school area, the more you could see teenagers in the surroundings. Everyone was with their individual cliques and even gangs. After going through security and checking in with the office, you went to your classroom and opened it for the students. Slowly a couple of them began to come in and with those, you recognized César with what seemed his group of friends. 

“Good morning,” you spoke in front of the class. “I’m Y/N Flores D. and I’m your new History teacher.”

The class went relatively smooth and everyone cooperated. You stood in the door as your students walked out.

“Heeeeey hermanaaaaa,” your little sister shouted in the hall.

You chuckled watching her do a little dance.

“Sister?” Ruben looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and disbelief.

Jasmine and you glanced at Ruben.

“Everybodyyyy this is my older sister Y/N! She just came back from New York after-“ 

“Alright Jasmine,” you stopped her from telling everybody your backstory. “We are sisters, can’t wait to get to know you guys.”

Everyone smiled awkwardly before they began to walk away. You grabbed Jasmine’s hand and pulled her into the classroom.

“Sis, I really need you to shut it about me coming back to Freeridge,” you told her. “I don’t want anyone up in my business. La gente es bien chismosa.” 

“Ellos son mis amigos, sis,” Jasmine said. 

You sighed harshly, “Well one of your friends is the little brother of Oscar.”

“You mean Spooky?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t call him that,” you told her. “Anyways, just keep it to yourself. Got it?”

Jasmine nodded, “I got you, sis.” She was about to walk away when she turned, “What’s up with you and Spooky? Why don't you want my friends or him to know why you’re back? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your sister knew part of the reasons why you were back. Hell she was one of those reasons. She knew what she needed to know but everything else was too hard to talk about.

“It’s a long story, Jas. I buried that shit a long time ago. It’s the past,” you kissed her forehead. “Ahora ve que tengo que prepararme para la otra clase.”

Jasmine knew there was so much you didn’t share and you knew she could find out about everything if she put her mind into it yet she respected your decisions. She smiled and winked before disappearing between all the students. The rest of the day was smoothly, putting aside all the kids that acted superior or just were assholes. 

/ / / / 

You stayed later at school making sure you had everything ready for tomorrow’s classes. The block was oddly silent, not a soul in their porches. Back in the day, by this hour at night there were usual viejitos in their porches talking about their days or their grandsons. Maybe things have changed. You could still listen to las abuelitas in their kitchen and kids playing in their living rooms as you stroll by the humble and colorful houses. Walking back home got you even more exhausted, soon you really needed to get a car. The sound of someone stepping on a branch woke suspiciousness and the feel of someone watching you. Subtly you looked over your shoulder, catching a guy wearing green sneaking into an ally.

The scary feeling of walking by yourself never really left you. You’ve lived in sketchy and semi sketchy hoods all your life. Messed up thing was that you had to learn how to protect yourself. Your heart was beating so fast you could feel it through your chest. You picked up the pace and looked over your shoulder one more time, seeing him again only this time he wasn’t trying to be subtle. 

You looked around and noticed you were in a Santo street but there were none of them in sight. Breathing heavily you put your hands inside your pockets, grabbing something from the inside of it. 

How could that prophet be stupid enough to be around these streets?

Turning around you pulled the taser from your pocket and pressed it on. 

“Come on, cabron!” you shouted, hiding your fear with a tough expression. 

The prophet eyes got wide open when he saw the light from the taser. 

You were about to shout another piece of your mind when a gunshot filled the air. Your body instantly froze last time you heard a gunshot was when you left Freeridge.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STREETS!” Oscar’s voice was full of rage.

The prophet looked at you one last time before running for the hills.

You put the taser inside your pocket and looked up at Oscar. He was already looking at you with a worrisome expression in his face. He clenched his jaw glaring at the empty sides of the street. All you could do was watch him inspect the street with his dull eyes. You were still in shock from what just happened. 

Letting a deep breath out, you thanked him. Oscar didn’t say a word but nodded and looked around one more time before locking his eyes with yours. Noticing how fucking nervous you were. 

“Hey,” he spoke with a soft tone. “Let me take you home.”

If the circumstances were different your answer would have been a straight up no but deep down the fear of crossing with the same prophet made you say yes. Oscar opened the door of his passenger seat, watching you walk by him and get inside his beautiful red Impala.

“You’re staying at your old place?” He asked and you nodded. 

The drive was quiet and quick, given the fact that your house wasn’t far from the spot. He parked the car and the thought of just saying thank you and walking out of that car crossed your mind. Yet you couldn’t just say that and walk away. You looked at him and like always he was already looking at you. 

“I’m staying in the back,” you spoke. “I don’t wanna worry Jasmine.” 

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Want me to walk you to your door?”

“Only if you want to,” you said. 

The two got off the car in silence and walked through the back. You heard Jasmine talking in her room as you walked by her window. The door of the small studio in your backyard cracked when you opened it. Strolling inside you looked over your shoulder to see Oscar waiting in the front entrance. He stood there with both hands inside his pockets, the black flannel flowing with the breeze. 

“You gonna stay there or come in?”

He entered slowly unsure of what he was doing, glancing down he noticed all the open and unopened boxes laying on the floor. He wanted to ask when did you come back and why but instead he watched you put your bag on the chair of the small dining set placed to the corner of the studio right next to the kitchen. Then he looked at your messy bed, he couldn’t hide the small smirk reminiscing how you never used to make your bed years ago. 

You took off your shoes and put them next to your old dresser and noticed how Oscar was roaming your place with his eyes. Biting your lower lip you cleared your throat to gain his attention. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Your voice was soft. 

“Got Corona?” He asked, standing next to your small dining set. 

You smirked opening the fridge and taking two Coronas from it. “Te puedes sentar, you won’t get any taller.” You told him as you opened the beers and sliced fresh lemons to squeeze inside. He chuckled lowly and took a seat.

Placing the beer in front of him, you sat down in front of him. “Why so quiet?” 

He pouted glancing to his left side not knowing if he should ask the million questions he had inside his head. You sighed harshly, getting impatient with the awkward silence. 

“Why are you back, Y/N? After 6 years?” Oscar looked into your eyes. 

You took a big sip of your beer, trying to gulp down the nerves. If you told him the real reason for being back, everything would escalate to a level not even God would pull it down. 

“Jasmine,” you half lied. 

“Your sister is kind of crazy,” he said with a small smile, “not offense.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know - she’s something else… Our mom left her and she’s been taking care of my dad all by herself. I couldn’t let my little sister go through all that alone.”

“I heard about your mom,” he swallowed, “I’m sorry she’s back on that shit.”

Your look went down to the corona, feeling the sadness of the whole situation. “Jasmine hid it from me for a whole summer.” You looked back at him, “I-,” you sighed feeling how the lump in your throat got tighter, “I don’t know how she held it down for two whole months.” 

“She might be crazy but she’s strong as hell,” he said. 

You felt proud of your little sister, Oscar was right she was so strong even more than you.

“Why did she hide it from you?” Oscar leaned forward, his focus completely on you. 

Licking your lower lip, you took a deep breath in, searching for the right answer. You didn’t want to tell him but for fucks sake it was Oscar. The man that years ago you could tell everything. He was the person you went to when your life was falling down. Without looking him in the eye, you began to reply with eyes on the corona wrapped by your shaky hands. “She didn’t want to ruin what I had in New York.”

“What you had in NYC? ” He said. 

You were still looking at the beer but you could feel his eyes on you. “I-,” once again you paused to think of your answer. “I had a good job, really loved teaching to the kids,” the corner of your mouth lifted thinking of how much you missed your students. “My apartment was okay-,” 

“How was the gringo?” he cut you off. 

“What?” You cocked an eyebrow.

He leaned backwards, “Te fuiste a NYC para hacer una vida perfecta. ¿No me digas que de una no encontraste al gringo perfecto?” Oscar's tone had some anger in it as his eyes but more than anger was resentment. “Did you find him?”

“I did,” your reply was blunt and hurtful for him.

Oscar’s head roamed as he glanced in the studio before leaning in with frowned brows. “Where is he?” 

You stood up and drank a big sip of the beer. Needing to feel some distance between you and Oscar, you sat on top of your counter. “He wasn’t the charming prince I thought he was.” You had another big sip. “He ended up being a fucking phsycopath.”

Oscar stood up, having a sip of his beer. “Did he do anything to you?” The thought of a man laying a hand on you or hurting you in any way made his blood boil. He continued to get closer to you. 

“He did…” you confessed, “Let’s just say it was a rough two years.”

Suddenly Oscar’s rage features turned soft, knowing that you got hurt, hurted him in so many ways. He placed the beer on the counter, looking you get smaller and look down. 

“Hey,” he touched your cheek tenderly. His touch was so warm and it felt so good, you missed having him so close to your body. He was so close you could listen to his steady breathing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You gazed at him, finally being close enough to see his beautiful brown eyes up close again. His eyelashes were so long, a smile grew on your face reminiscing how you used to be so jealous of that. Slowly you caressed his left cheek, caressing his teardrop tattoo. This new tattoo had so much meaning behind it. Things between both of you have changed but being this close to him felt like home. Oscar shuddered at your soft touch. God it’s been so long. So long that you didn’t realize he could still make you feel this way. 

He was standing between your legs, all this time you’ve been observing how stronger he looked but having him this up close changed the perspective. Your heart began to beat faster as he got closer to you even when there was no more space in between.

Your eyes were on his plumped lips for a second, catching how he licked his lower lip and you mimicked the act. His stare was on your lips and his strong big hands on your thighs, pressing into your body. 

Suddenly you didn’t feel the six years that had passed by. In that moment you felt like the teenager that was in love with Oscar. The teenager that would sneak out of her house to see him. 

His lips weren’t kissing you but you wanted it so badly and waited for it urgently. Oscar hand traveled from your thighs to your lower back, gripping softly. He let out a hard and warm breath. 

Letting your heart rule over your head, you pressed your lips against his and if felt like sparks were lit on fire inside you. Oscar continued to kiss you, giving up and doing what he’s been thinking about since the minute he saw you walking down his street. The kiss was long and slow, you took your time to taste his lips. Butterflies you thought were dead and buried began to surfer out the longer you were lost on his lips. Your hands traveled from his chest to the bottom of his flannel, slowly you began to undo the buttons of the shirt. He stopped kissing you for a second, looking down at what your hands were doing. 

Oscar’s eyes went back to yours, watching you catching your breath. “Are you sure?” 

The button of his neck was undone leaving a spot of skin which you pressed a kiss there. You continued leaving a trail of kisses from his neck, traveling to his cross tattoo, and finally meeting his lips. This was the consent he needed to continue what the two were thinking. Your fingers proceed to undo the next buttons until there is none left. He never stopped kissing you as he took his flannel off, he was wearing a black tank that also came off his body. 

He took off the buttons of your white blouse in no time leaving you with only your bra. Moans escaped your lips with every kiss Oscar left on your neck, chest and collar bone. You were giving in the extasis of the moment and you couldn’t wait to travel the galaxy tonight. 

“Hey sis are you ho- HOLY SHIT!” Jasmine screamed. Oscar spooked turned around, her eyes widened as she seemed a ghost. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”

“JASMINE!” You shouted, “Get the fuck out!”

She pumped in her inhaling to control the possibly asthma attack this was going to give and ran out of your place.

You rested your head against the wall, watching Oscar looking at your sister run inside her room. He turned to look at you, his eyes dissapeared when he grinned. The two started laughing so hard that your stomach began to hurt. 

The comedic moment was interrupted by his phone ringing. You stayed on the counter watching him pick up. “Que paso compa?” he said to the person on the other side of the line. Oscar’s eyebrows frowned transforming his expression into a serious one. “I’m on my way,” he said before hanging up. 

“Gotta take care of business,” he told you. 

You nodded in understanding, “It ain’t easy being king.” 

He scoffed, shooting you a killer grin, “De veras que no.” He put on his black tank and walked to the door. 

“Oscar,” you called and he turned, “Gracias por lo de hoy. I don’t know what would happen if you didn’t show up.” 

The corner of his lips curved up, “I did nothin’ you already had it handled, mama.” He said before turning completely. “Nos vemos fool,” he almost whispered and that made you smile. 

Your smile didn’t vanish as you took in how good he looked walking away. 

Running your fingers through your long locks you let out a loud sigh, processing what had happened a couple minutes ago. You laughed at yourself thinking how it only took less than seventy two hours of being back to Freeridge and you already were getting involved with Oscar. 

“No vas volver con el Oscar,” you mocked yourself at the pep talk you told yourself on the plane back home. Getting off the counter, you shook your head to the sides. “Eres una pinche pendeja.” 

PART TWO 

____________________

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 1

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

☘  genre | angst, exes au

☘  summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

☘  word count | 4k

☘  rating | PG-13

☘  warnings | some fairly heavy angst, breakup

☘  a/n | ok SO I’m finally working on a multi-chap for the first time in forever :o and ofc this is the first series that i’m working on in this blog! alsooo am kinda ashamed to admit that i’ve actually NEVER finished a series ever 🙈🙈 sooo this is a challenge from me @ myself 🤭 so yes come along with me for this ride hahahah and pls kick my butt if i leave this series as another one in the unfinished pile

You can have Manhattan, ‘cause I can’t have you -- Sara Bareilles, Manhattan

Pulling your jacket around you a little tighter to keep the bite of the night air at bay and hitching your duffel bag a little higher up your shoulder, you board the bus. The bus conductor asks for your ticket and you let go of it for the first time since you bought it, giving him the flimsy paper that’s now imprinted with the shape of your thumb under the stress of your tight grip as you held onto it like a lifeline. After a quick inspection, he passes it back to you and you take it from him wordlessly.

“Hey.” You look up at the conductor in surprise, gaze finally torn from where it had remained on the ground all this time. “You alright?”

You don’t allow yourself to consider the question lest the tears come and you cause a bigger scene than you already have. With a tight-lipped smile that probably isn’t fooling anyone, you nod at him, and traipse to the back of the bus before he can probe any further.

The comfort of the back corner of the bus brings you the tiniest smidge of relief, especially after you place your duffel bag on the seat next to you, creating a barrier between you and the rest of the bus. Not that there would be many people, if any at all, at such a late timing. Nonetheless, the little bubble created by your makeshift barricade brings you some security as you settle into your chosen seat gingerly, as if you would shatter to pieces if your movements were too rough. Your emotional state sure feels that way, fragile and on the brink of falling apart any time now.

You’re not sure how much time passes before the bus doors finally shut and it begins pulling out of the bay. It carries a sense of finality. You’re really going home. The cityscape, drenched in the black and orange hues of nightfall, goes past as you watch through the window- slowly at first, then becoming a blur as the vehicle picks up in speed. The plans you had for the weekend are now truncated and left behind with the city.

The emptiness hits you once again when the bus pulls onto the freeway and the city sights are completely gone. Only the inky black of the night sky accompanies you now. You are alone. On this bus, yes, but in more ways than that too. You let that fact sink in.

It’s too dangerous to let your thoughts overtake you right now, so you occupy yourself by playing Sudoku puzzles on your phone, which has strategically been placed on airplane mode. The methodical problem-solving that the puzzle requires of you submerges your mind in a sea of numbers. Which is your intention. And before you know it, the bus is slowing down and you look up from your device to the familiar scenery of your hometown. On any other day, it would fill you with warmth, but right now it doesn’t.

Now having arrived at your destination, you gather your belongings and alight from the bus. It’s just a daypack and your duffel bag which is bursting at the seams with how many items you crammed into it. You would have brought a suitcase if you knew, but how were you to predict the events of tonight? Though, you surmise, you should have seen it coming and could have prepared yourself better.

You’re trudging home and you’re maybe ten minutes away when it begins raining. Great. As if this day could get any worse. It makes your clothes stick to you in that cloying way and the chill from the night has you shivering almost violently now. But you plough on home, only focusing on getting one foot in front of the other and repeat, repeat, repeat.

Finally at your front door, it’s a struggle to get the key in the door with how badly your hand is shaking. Whether it’s from the cold or something else, you’re not sure anymore at this point. After countless tries, you finally manage to jam it in and turn it quickly so you can just get into the safety of your home.

The noise that results from the way you throw your duffel bag and daypack down, your rain-soaked jacket quickly following suit to form a messy, wet heap in the middle of the entryway, announces your arrival. Hoseok pops his head out from the archway that leads to the living room, the sounds probably interrupting his late-night Netflix binge.

“____?” You can hear the concern in his voice, and you refuse to look at him, instead focusing on wrenching your sodden shoes off of your tired feet. “Where’s Joonie?”

The mention of his name causes something like a switch to flip in you. Your brain finally, finally catches up with reality, and the numbness you lulled yourself into for the past few hours dissipates just like the pricking of a balloon. It leaves you gasping in pain, the way the emotions suddenly come flooding through you. The hurt viciously demands to be felt.

With a shaky exhale, you look Hoseok in the eye. The gravity of tonight’s events finally cements itself in your brain and the tears you’d been holding back come spilling out uncontrollably as you mumble your next words out brokenly.

“We broke up.”

It’s been weeks since you and Namjoon broke up. The constant cloud of desolation that plagued your every waking moment in the immediate aftermath of the breakup has finally eased up somewhat.

Being a high school senior turned out to be a lifebuoy in some ways, giving you solid things to cling onto in the midst of your emotions of loss and confusion. It’s not healthy, you know, but the academic content provided a sense of constancy that you sorely needed and the rigor of it all kept your mind from wandering too far into the depths of your sorrow.

Yet you knew this could only go on for so long. At some point, these emotions will eat you up from the inside out if not acknowledged and sorted out. Pain is just like that, it will gnaw at you with subtlety but with certainty. Repressing the feelings is just simply unsustainable.

You’re really lucky to have an older brother like Hoseok. That first night, when you finally broke down and let the tears turn into sobs that wracked through your entire being, he’d quickly gathered you up into his arms and had given you a shoulder to cry on. God knows how long you spent in that state bawling seemingly endlessly, but Hoseok had let you just get it all out without asking any questions, the immensity of his patience and quiet strength of his presence lending you a pillar of support that you desperately needed at the time. Later that night, when you were showered and tucked in warm under the covers, you watched through puffy eyes as he unpacked your belongings from your duffel bag and carefully wiped them dry or chucked them into the laundry basket as was appropriate.

When he reached for your daypack, you stopped him. You were barely able to croak out your opposition, your throat raw and wrecked from the earlier barrage of emotions. Still, Hoseok caught it, and nodded empathetically. He respected your wishes for privacy and only wiped the exterior of your daypack down before leaving it in the corner of your room.

And in the corner it remained. Aside from your absolute necessities, which was really just your keys and your wallet, you’d procrastinated unpacking your daypack. Till now, that is.

Not that there was much to unpack anyway. Most of the possessions you’d retrieved from Namjoon’s dorm room that night had been hastily dumped into your duffel bag in the single-minded mission to get out of there as soon as possible. You know exactly what items remain in the daypack- a bottle of water, a pair of shades, some chapstick, surprise tickets you’d bought online to a movie from that fateful weekend that went unused, and an envelope tucked away safely in the inner pocket of the bag.

The daypack and its contents weighed on your mind the same way it sat in the corner of your room- silent, untouched, yet unbudging. It’s plain silly how afraid you’ve been to confront these items, items that are inanimate and void of meaning apart from what you yourself have ascribed to them. In an attempt to hold off the full brunt of your misery, somehow you’d deluded yourself into thinking that leaving the daypack as it is would preserve things as they once were. You lived in self-denial, as if the breakup had not happened. As if the weekend trip just had not taken place at all, and was waiting to happen instead. The daypack was waiting for you to sling it over your shoulders as you head jovially out the door to the city and to the arms of your boyfriend.

But no. You heave out a sigh. Things have changed. You and Namjoon are no longer together. Holding onto a delusion is ridiculous, and you need to move on. And the first step to doing that is to get rid of this centerpiece that your fantasy revolves around.

The items in the bag get dumped onto the carpeted ground of your room unceremoniously as you unzip the daypack, turn it upside down, and shake out the contents. Whatever mystique you’ve built up around these simple items is now shattered as they lay scattered on the floor. The shades and chapstick return to your dressing table, the bottle of water and expired movie tickets get dumped out. And the envelope… you throw it into your desk drawer and slam it shut before the temptation to tear it open overtakes you.

That was the first of many letters that were written, but never got sent.

You never intended to make it a thing. It just… happened one day. Staying focused on school and college applications could only provide so much distraction from the whirling emotions bottled up inside you. No matter how tightly you attempted to keep a lid on it, wistful nostalgia still crept up uninvited.

And naturally so. This neighborhood, your high school, heck even your own house is filled with the ghost of the memory of him. Namjoon had been a significant presence in your life before he was even really yours. You still remember the day Hoseok brought his newfound friend home, Namjoon’s lips pressed tightly together in his attempts to keep his sniffles and tears in, his knees scraped, bruised, and bleeding from what looked like a pretty hard fall on the playground.

“Mum!” Hoseok had called out. “I need band aids!”

“Hello,” Namjoon mumbled when your mum came hurrying out of the kitchen to see what was wrong. “Sorry to be a bother.”

Namjoon had always been a klutz, but it was his clumsiness that had birthed the close friendship between him and Hoseok. After one too many accidents on the playground, Namjoon had been too scared to go home to face the inevitable reprimanding that would come. Hoseok had offered to patch him up at yours instead, and the camaraderie that arose from that incident had sealed their friendship as an unbreakable one. Unfortunately, as big as Hoseok’s heart was, his little seven-year-old hands were not the gentlest. From your spot at the top of the staircase, peering through the grills, you saw how Namjoon winced at Hoseok dabbing antiseptic on his knees, and you came bounding down the steps to rescue the stranger that sat on your family’s sofa and that had somehow wormed his way into a soft spot in your heart with his teary pout.

“Hoseok,” you demanded, your tiny hand outstretched and waiting, voice tinged with petulance. “Give me.”

Hoseok relinquished the first aid items to you and watched as you cleaned his new friend up, your brow furrowed in careful focus, little hands fumbling but your touch delicate. After you applied the twin band aids on both of Namjoon’s knees with all the meticulousness that a five-year-old could muster up, you patted his thigh and smiled at him.

“All done!” you declared. And you’d never forget the sight of his dimpled smile beaming up at you in response.

If only you could. You shake your head, as if it would shake the memories away. The paper before you on your desk remains as blank as it was twenty minutes ago when you sat down to get started on revision. But having known Namjoon for over a decade made it too easy for you to just get swept away by the deluge of memories of him. You tried to keep it in, but it kept leaking out. And perhaps that’s what you need- to just let it out.

The first touch of the pen to paper has you pausing, wondering how you were even supposed to start. But the moment you begin- Dear Namjoon, - everything comes spilling out in prose. Hardly having to pause what with the way your thoughts just keep flooding out onto the paper, the inked words flowing out in streams, you finally let go of the firm grip you’d kept on your feelings up till now and express your frustration, your loss, your confusion all out in one huge cathartic spew. You write till you feel emotionally dry, but in a satisfying way, chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks. But as your ballpoint pen swirls the complimentary closing- Sincerely Yours- you can’t help but laugh at the sardonic humor embedded in it. The sincerity in your words is irrefutable. But you’re no longer his.

Folding it up and sealing it away in an envelope, you chuck the letter into your desk drawer where it joins its predecessor. Now with a clearer mind, and a renewed focus and vigor, you’re finally able to set to work on the mountain of revision materials that await you.

The first letter was a gushing myriad of feelings. But the subsequent letters solidified into one obviously discernible emotion- anger.

Once you came to terms with the fact that he’s not coming back, and that he basically threw away the relationship, it had you boiling mad. How much had you sacrificed for this relationship?! You’d basically shuttled back and forth between your hometown and the city almost every other weekend to visit him on campus, juggling your family and your grades and your friends back home and college applications just to make your long-distance relationship work. And how did he repay your efforts? By withdrawing from you and refusing to talk things out despite your gentle, persistent probing. You’d heard that he’d been in a slump and confused about the future- Hoseok, while his best friend, was your brother after all- but you’d never imagined he’d be confused about you.

And so you took your rage out on paper once again, your words harsh as you wrote candidly. It’s not like he’d ever get to see it anyway.

But anger is tiring. After penning a few letters full of scathing lines you’d never have the guts to actually spit out in person, your wrath was quelled and soon gave way to grief.

In the same way with your anger, you chose not to deny your sadness, but leaned into it instead. The end of your relationship was something worth mourning, you decided, and you let yourself embrace the sorrow fully and deeply. It was especially difficult knowing that he was still in contact with Hoseok, while you had been completely cut out of his life. But you can’t blame either of them- you can’t demand that they revoke their friendship over what happened between you and Namjoon, nor would you ever desire for that to happen. Hoseok, on his part, managed it to the best he could, taking his phone calls in a room separate from you. But you can’t control the wave of dejection that runs through you whenever you spy Namjoon’s name on his caller ID.

You’re used to the routine by now. Whenever the emotions get too overwhelming, whenever there’s just too much that you want to say to him but that you can’t, you engage in the therapeutic act of writing your letters. Then you seal them up, and chuck them away, out of sight and out of mind. The grief gets easier to deal with too, especially with the excitement of receiving college acceptance letters and your high school graduation date that’s drawing closer and closer.

Of course, that in itself brings its own strand of sadness too, as you imagine having to separate from your friends and family and leave your childhood home behind. But the notion of getting to carve out the path to your future leaves a giddy anticipation that overshadows all other feelings.

And in that strange, paradoxical way that time seems to pass in- every hour ticking by so slowly, but the weeks whizzing by in the blink of an eye- it’s just as your five-year-old self had once proclaimed, “All done!”

Your life now packed into boxes that are piled into the car, one last check of your room to ensure that nothing important is left behind, a final look at the place you called home for all your life up to now, and you’re off to college. As you watch the sight of your neighborhood through the rearview mirror pull further and further away till it disappears entirely, you know you’re leaving tons of memories behind. Memories of Namjoon, yes, but also memories of your growing up years with your family and friends who have made you into who you are today, able to venture out and face the world with courage and confidence.

Maybe it’s that experience of individuation that has you finally accepting it. No more whirlpool of emotions, no more anger, no more grief, no more emptiness. Just peace. You’re single, separated from Namjoon. And you’re ready to take on the world and live your life like the boss woman you are.

“____,” Hoseok wails, pouting as he approaches you with outstretched arms. You barrel into him, relishing the warmth of his embrace and stowing it away for the days ahead. His eyes rove over you as he holds you at arms length so he can take you in for the last time in a while. He sighs. “My baby sister is all grown up and going to college and away from me.”

You laugh. “I’m still in the country, Hoseokie, it’s not like I’m halfway across the world. You can come and visit anytime.”

“But you’ve never lived further than a minute’s walk from my room. How am I supposed to deal with you being hours away from me now?”

“You’ll get over it soon, you big baby.” You duck out under his arms and slap his butt with the playful affection that’s always characterized your sibling relationship. Your parents are waiting by the door of your dorm room and you go over to give them their share of goodbye hugs.

“Thank you for all the help with moving and unpacking today,” you say, voice muffled as you speak into your dad’s chest. He strokes your head and you lean into his touch and savor it.

“You’ve got one more box there, you sure you don’t want our help with that?”

“No, it’s fine, I can handle it.”

It gets increasingly hard to hold the tears back and the difficulty only spikes tenfold when you turn to see your mum holding back tears of her own. Her perfume and her own natural scent that lies underneath that that you inhale as you hide your face in her neck while the two of you hug very nearly pushes you over the brink. But you manage. Knowing your family, it’s a given that someone will shed tears at some point, and you’re all (barely) holding it together for each other.

Hoseok comes up to hug you from behind so that you’re now sandwiched between him and your mum, which only prompts your dad to envelop all of you in his arms too.

“If it ever doesn’t work out- not saying that it won’t, because you’re super smart and the most driven kid I’ve ever known- but just, IF ever,” Hoseok rambles into your hair, “you can always come home and teach at the dance studio with me, ok?”

“Thanks Hoseokie. But you know I have two left feet, so I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

“They’ll make an exception for you. I’ll make them make an exception for you.”

You laugh and extricate yourself from the group hug through a series of wiggles that only provides further proof of why you’ll never make it as a dance instructor the way your brother has.

“Ok, it’s getting late and you guys still have a long drive ahead of you.” You shoo them out of your room. After your final goodbyes, you return to your room quickly, knowing that the sight of their figures leaving would be unbearable.

Needing a distraction, you busy yourself with unpacking your last box of belongings. It’s nothing too difficult- your family had spent the afternoon helping you with the major to-dos like wiping things down and setting up your larger decor and lighting fixtures (read: copious amounts of fairy lights strung everywhere) just the way you liked it. All that remains now are some photos with friends, the few pieces of jewelry you owned, your humble make-up collection... and a shoe box stuffed full of letters that you didn’t dare to leave back at home where it would be at risk of being discovered by prying eyes in your absence.

Finding a place for your various items was a simple task to complete. Within ten minutes you were done unpacking, washed up, and tucked into bed for your first night ever living apart from your family. You roll over onto your side- your sleeping environment may be different, but your side-sleeper habits will never change.

As you peer out the window and take in the campus sights that seem foreign now but that you know will become familiar in time, you’re struck with a funny thought. What a turn of events your life has taken.

This is not the dorm room nor the campus you thought you’d be attending all those months ago when you were making your way down to the city. You’d embarked on that trip in gleeful anticipation at being able to deliver the good news to Namjoon, only to have that trip abruptly cut short, and the news remained in an envelope that never got to its intended recipient.

That weekend triggered a rerouting of your life, setting you on a new path that had brought you here to this campus instead. Not that you regret it, or feel like you settled for something less, not at all. You’re at peace with your decisions. It’s just an intriguing thought that things could have turned out so differently if that one weekend hadn’t happened, is all.

On impulse, you clamber out of bed to retrieve the shoe box that you’d shoved into the corner of your closet. Rifling through the stack- wait, did you really write this many letters?- you finally find the envelope you’re looking for.

Tearing it open gingerly, you pull out the sheets of paper contained within. It’s a rueful kind of feeling that washes over you as you skim over the words that you’d written back in what feels like an entire lifetime ago. The excitement you had felt at the prospect of the long-distance aspect of your relationship finally coming to an end after two long years was blatant in your letter.

But when it became obvious that Namjoon had gotten tired of trying to make things work, what you’d initially thought of as the golden ticket to saving your relationship turned out to be fool’s gold instead. You pull up the second sheet of paper- a photocopy of your acceptance letter to the same college your then boyfriend was attending- and you can’t help the ‘what if’s that fill your mind as you run your thumb over the college emblem.

Guess your dreams of a future where you lived in the city and where Namjoon was still in your life would remain just that- a dream.

Or so your naive college self believed.

[by-nina]

For auld lang syne, my dear (Counterpoint)

AO3 | FFN Part II of For auld lang syne, my dear Rating: T (alcohol, mild language) Genre: Fluff/Romance/Angst Word Count: 2,151

A/N: Part two of For auld lang syne, my dear coming through! This was supposed to be the second part of my FMA Secret Santa work this year. Even though it officially isn’t, it’s still something I wanted to make with the prompts I was given. So here you go and I hope you like this one, @megthemighty! (My first Havolina!)

Happy New Year to you all, and I hope we’re all able to dance our way through better days.

It sometimes seems like it was only yesterday that she heard that old holiday song on a train platform, saying goodbye to a boy who once brightened a few lonely days, hoping for a dance that would never come. On most days, she’s able to bury that moment away like it happened in another life.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Riza is far from home and the quiet holiday mornings she used to spend alone by the fire. The change is stark before she even reaches Central. Closer and closer to the city, the air grows a little warmer and the sky fades into a duller shade of black, compensated by the brilliant lanterns and ornaments adorning every building. Everything else is a blur from there. A party with more guests than she personally knows, a glass of champagne in hand, a nicer dress than the ones she usually wears on a night out in town.

Riza would be perfectly happy to just sit back and let the night play out around her. She’s here because Rebecca had convinced her to come along, insisting that they try something a little different from the usual year-end festivities in the East. But home is all that Riza looks for the whole night. Thankfully, no one is a happier reminder of it than Rebecca. With all her energy, they may as well be back home, dancing the night away at the town plaza.

Then, they find Lieutenant Havoc by himself at the party, and Riza finally begins to truly have a great time. It’s almost as if she and her two dear friends have got their own little world in the corner of the room. Sometimes she jumps into the conversation, laughing along to inside jokes about their respective hometowns and from their days at the military academy. She’s equally happy just to listen as Rebecca and Havoc get carried away with their thoughts—some oddly specific and similar, others wildly different and conflicting.

“… and what difference does it make if you do it tonight?”

Havoc leans back in his chair smugly, as though he’s certain the argument is over. “Look, everyone gets emotional on New Year’s Eve. It could be good or bad, but when you get carried away, it’s not like it’ll be the same the next morning.”

“Bullshit, you’ll be fine! You’ve been single for, what, a month?”

Riza sets her glass down on a side table. “I’m sorry, what are you two talking about?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Mister Loverboy here thinks that he shouldn’t try and find a girlfriend tonight because it’s New Year’s Eve, and nobody can commit.”

Even Riza, who is far behind the other two in terms of dating experience, fails to grasp the idea. “What?”

Havoc makes a comically scandalized face. “You two are ganging up on me! Hear me out—Hawkeye, as our voice of reason and the most level-headed person in this room—”

“Hey! You don’t get points for flattery, Havoc!”

“—do you think you could find a boyfriend or a girlfriend right here in this party, on New Year’s Eve, while everyone is drunk and emotional and, well, they’ve all got too much on their mind right now, don’t they?”

Rebecca and Havoc watch Riza expectantly as she picks up her glass again, considering the question as she sips the last of her drink. As if it will help her think clearly. “I’ve got good news for you, Havoc,” Riza finally says after a while. “You can definitely find a girlfriend in this party, on New Year’s Eve.”

“See?” Rebecca places a hand on Riza’s shoulder and grins at Havoc. “That’s the voice of reason for you!”

Riza continues, “I think that sometimes, trusting someone enough to be vulnerable around them is a good start. And your relationship shouldn’t just revolve around the first spark, anyway. It’s your choice whether or not you’re going to work on it. If you like someone enough, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to do that.”

They look at her like she has just read their fortunes.

“Well, well, those are some big words from you, Riza!” Rebecca says. “Do you actually have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“You know I don’t, Rebecca. But what point were you trying to make against Havoc, anyway?”

“That if there’s someone he likes, but he won’t do anything about it tonight just because it’s New Year’s Eve, then he’s a coward.”

Havoc grabs at his chest dramatically and hunches forward, exaggerating the look of pain on his face. “Ladies, you’re breaking my heart! All I want is to have a lasting relationship with a good woman! I’m telling you, I’ll treat her like a princess, and every day I’ll tell her how much I love—”

“Her boobs,” Riza and Rebecca say in unison, bored, but with a hint of knowing laughter.

Rebecca reaches forward as Havoc takes out a cigarette from the pack he has been keeping in his coat pocket. She pushes his hand aside and grabs the pack, then tucks it between the cushions of the couch that she and Riza are occupying. “Put that thing away, you’ll never find a good woman smelling like smoke. Let’s dance.”

“What the—”

“Your girlfriend’s not just gonna waltz in and find you here on your ass, Havoc. Dance floor, now. Riza, let’s go!”

Riza waves off the invitation, chuckling. “I’ll be fine here, thanks. You two have fun.”

Rebecca drags Havoc out into the dancing crowd, and Riza sits back contentedly with a newly filled glass of bubbly. She doesn’t know how much time she spends watching her friends under the sparkling lights, their laughter ringing so loudly that it seems to carry over the music and the chatter around the room, but she does notice how they change. The more they dance, the closer they seem to get to each other. They become locked in a gaze, eyes glinting with more than enjoyment. Even the way they move seems to say that they’ve got every part each other memorized.

Time goes by quickly from then on, and suddenly midnight is only a few minutes away. The music changes with Rebecca and Havoc still out on the dance floor; they exchange a look of understanding and recognition. And perhaps it’s because they had grown up with the song as well—or maybe Rebecca and Havoc are so intoxicated now that they are both made entirely of warmth—but Riza senses feelings of comfort and home being communicated between them, all without words. They might have gone back in time to their childhoods, or they might have come up with a world with just the two of them there on the dance floor.

Riza smiles.

How could she have never seen it coming?

Then again, there are many things that Riza never saw coming, like those distant memories that come with the music now filling the room. It sometimes seems like it was only yesterday that she heard that old holiday song on a train platform, saying goodbye to a boy who once brightened a few lonely days, hoping for a dance that would never come.

On most days, Riza is able to bury that moment away like it happened in another life. She can look at the man the boy has become without imagining what might have been or thinking that she might still feel the way she did before. That other life ended in Ishval, and although she has kept the Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang in the life she lives now, it has been strictly out of duty. She swore to follow him and protect him; there is nothing more to it. Nothing about a dance, no vestiges of a precious shared past.

But sometimes, she is reminded of the past without warning, like now.

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

Roy Mustang isn’t supposed to be here.

He hadn’t planned on going to any party tonight. It was supposed to be like all the other year-end holidays he has spent in this city. Unpeaceful, a blur of faces both familiar and unfamiliar at Madame Christmas’ bar, the promise of a quieter morning with family once all the festivities were over. But then he ran into Havoc earlier this evening, the latter making his way to this fancy new lounge that had opened at the northeast side of town.

“Come on, Chief,” Havoc had said, “you need to get out more often. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

The invitation wasn’t even an appealing one, at least to Roy. It’s been many years since he last truly enjoyed New Year’s Eve, because throughout these many years he has changed so much. He has been in the military for what feels like a lifetime now, gone to hell and back during the war in Ishval, and he no longer feels the holidays the way he did when he was a young boy. He does remember some things, though, like breakfast made from the leftovers of New Year’s Eve dinner, the market filled with toys and books and rare delicacies, the music.

And her.

Riza hardly looks different from the young girl who saw him board a train for Central many New Year’s Eves ago, but he knows better than anyone that that isn’t true. She’s about as distant from her younger self as he is from his. She’s also easier to imagine back in that time than Roy finds himself to be. At most, he can point out how much longer her hair has grown since that day—it’s not yet past her shoulders, but it frames her face differently. Beautifully.

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

The music has changed to a familiar old tune, and perhaps it’s why he calls her attention without thinking. Roy wishes he hadn’t. She was watching the crowd’s merrymaking just now, with a warm, lovely smile that he had been lucky to see once before. He didn’t mean to make it go away. But when Riza hears his voice, her expression changes, and she rises to her feet so quickly that she almost loses her balance. There is a deep pink hue on her cheeks.

“Lieutenant Colonel.”

He laughs a little. “I’m sorry, that was so formal. It’s New Year’s Eve. Just call me…”

Roy stops himself.

“… Mustang.”

Riza nods slowly, then sits back down. Roy gingerly occupies the spot at the other end of the same couch. They’re silent for a few moments, listening to the holiday song played by the live band from the other side of the room, sung by the crowd in varying degrees of drunkenness.

“You should be dancing too,” Roy finally says. He isn’t sure if he means it as a suggestion or an invitation.

She smiles in a resigned manner, reaching down slightly to rub her ankles. “My feet are aching from these shoes.” Riza pauses. “How about you?”

Roy shakes his head. “I’ve had too much to drink.”

How easily they lie to each other.

Riza resumes watching the crowd, so she doesn’t see Roy watching her as the song plays on, or perhaps she pretends that she doesn’t. He tries not to think of all the reasons they have to deny each other a dance. He takes comfort in the memory of her twirling on the platform of Cameron Station, of singing for her in the living room of her childhood home. And if he’d truly had as much to drink as he claimed he did, he would have abandoned all judgment to take her out to the dance floor, just to have those things again.

For old times’ sake, Roy tells himself.

The spell breaks at the stroke of midnight, when the song ends and jubilant greetings ring out around the room. Roy and Riza return to the present and exchange cordial, if tentative smiles, once again becoming Lieutenant Hawkeye and Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. No complicated past, no uncertain future. Only the present in which they are able to welcome the new year together, if not in the way either of them had hoped.

“Happy New Year,” they tell each other.

Riza hesitates to take Roy’s hand when he offers it. When she finally does, her hand feels rougher than he remembers, her grip turned firm by the mastery of her self-control. He knows she is wary of the lines they cannot cross, even though they’ve been far past that point for much of her lives. But he won’t do that to her. Roy would never offer her something he knows he cannot give. He cares for her far too deeply to do that.

For now, he puts his faith in better, kinder years to come.

[your-kpopmama]

Happy Valentine’s Day, Kiss My Ass!!

Words: 5,390 Drama, slight angst, a good ending A/N: it’s me! back again with a holiday special. 

If you asked anyone to describe Jeon Jungkook in one word, it would always be “loyal”.  He was loyal to his friends, his family, and most especially his girlfriend of 7 years, Elodie. Jungkook had met Elodie on a trip with his family when he was 18. Both of their families had seemingly booked the same tour package of Paris. So for a week straight, Elodie and Jungkook were quite literally inseparable.

Both being freshly 18, they had quite a lot in common, even if Jungkook’s english wasn’t amazing. They still managed to communicate and enjoy each other’s company while their parents enjoyed the wine at every destination.

Somewhere between The Louvre and Versailles, they found an indescribable attraction.

Now, most would say distance would ruin a friendship or relationship, considering Jungkook lived in Busan, South Korea and Elodie lived in some midwestern town in Michigan whose claim to fame was the worlds largest Cherry Pie. However, both of them being determined to form a friendship, made it seem as easy as that cherry pie her hometown was known for.

It didn’t take more than a year for them to realize they both wanted more than friendship, thus they began their journey of a life together. There were many flights between the two, Michigan to Seoul; Seoul to Michigan. Late night phone calls from someone just waking up. Conflicting schedules and many times where they wondered if it would work.

It only took Elodie two years to decide she couldn’t handle the distance. So she packed her life up, said goodbye to the folks, and moved clear across the world to be with the love of her life. Unbeknownst to him, since he had just entered his military service to get it out of the way. With the help of his parents, Elodie found a nice apartment not far from their house.

When Jungkook was discharged, the first face he saw upon leaving was hers. The love that surged through him struck him almost breathless. He loved her with his whole being.

It took one year for them to officially move in together once Jungkook finished school.

One more year before Jungkook popped the big question during the Jinju Lantern Festival that Elodie had begged him to take her to. Of course, Elodie said yes.

Six more months to plan a move to Seoul for a job that Elodie had gotten at an entertainment company as a translator - Jungkook was the best teacher.

And one more year for Elodie to gain some of her closest friends and Jungkook to score his dream job as a physical therapist.

It’s obvious to anyone that Jungkook is loyal.

—————————

“Elodie!” A shout from across the cafeteria pulled Elodie’s attention from the book in her hand to the small blonde boy bounding towards her with a tall red headed woman in tow.

“Jimin! Lani!” Elodie greeted, marking her page before setting her book aside.

Jimin and Lani were two of the people closest to Elodie at work, and two of her very good friends. They had taken Elodie under their wings so to say when she arrived at Big Hit. Jimin and Lani worked as stylists but were on the same team for a boy group called Wild, that had just debuted when she started. Jimin had already been there for two years and Lani was finishing up her first year. If it weren’t for those two, Elodie was almost certain she wouldn’t have survived the hectic schedules.

Jimin sat across from Elodie as Lani took the spot beside her closest friend. “Today has been crazy!” Jimin whined, reaching for Elodie’s untouched coffee.

“Tell me about it, Wild is getting a bit...wild these days. It’s hard to keep up with them in interviews.” Elodie laughed, pushing the cup into Jimin’s searching hand.

“Girl, do not get me started!” Lani chimed in, shaking her head, “if I get one more fan complaint about them all wearing the same clothes I may scream. I can’t just go to the dorms everyday and dress them.” She scoffed and reached for the cup too, “they act like don’t own a thousand and a half outfits.” She finished.

“I wonder where they get it from.” Jimin mused, reaching once again for the now community cup of coffee the three of them were sharing.

Elodie had to suppress a laugh because she knew exactly where they got their bad habit from. The three of them often shared food, drinks, and Jimin and Elodie shared clothes here and there when they were out on long schedules.

That was always something that amused Jungkook to no end, Elodie coming home in a borrowed shirt or pants from Jimin if there were unforeseen circumstances at work. The most recent one being Daniel and Hyun were arguing over who got the last strawberry milk and when Elodie stepped in to hand them one she had found in the cooler, Hyun had swung his arms out and slapped the open milk container and covered her from head to toe in the pink milk. A story Jungkook spent half an hour laughing about as he helped Elodie clean the dry milk from her hair.

Lani’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out with a groan, “what did those troublemakers do now?” She said mostly to herself. Her expression changed from annoyed to something Elodie couldn’t quite place. “Ah, I have to take this call.” She said and got up and all but ran from the table.

“Geez, what’s her problem these days?” Jimin huffed, his attention now on the half eaten cinnamon roll in front of Elodie.

Elodie shrugged and pushed the plate to Jimin, offering him the rest of the delicious pastry. “Who knows. I think she might be seeing someone. I caught her talking in the women’s room the other day and she got all flustered and ran from the room.” Elodie wasn’t one to gossip, but whoever has the red heads attention, has to be one hell of a guy and Elodie was curious.

Jimin frowned into the cinnamon roll and didn’t speak anymore until their allotted lunch hour was over.

Elodie made a note that she hadn’t seen Lani for the rest of the day.

—————————

If you asked anyone, they would tell you Jungkook would go to the moon and back for his fiancée.

So on this particular afternoon, when Elodie was running late because of a translation mishap with Wild, she had to call her fiancé for a favor. Nothing major, something seemingly harmless.

“Hello?” Elodie spoke into the phone when she heard someone pick up. A beat passed before Jungkook’s voice rang through.

“Elodie? What’s up? Aren’t you at work?” His voice sounded worried.

“Yeah, I have a quick favor. And before you say no, please just hear me out.” She rushed.

Jungkook urged her to continue, “can you pick Lani up from the train station for me? I’m gonna be running behind and I told her I would pick her up when she got back.” The other end of the phone was silent until Jungkook drew in a breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can pick her up.” He agreed easily than Elodie had planned.

“I know you two don’t get along very well, but I can’t get out of work. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.” Elodie murmured.

“Love, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I had to head that way anyway for a few errands so I don’t mind since it’s for you.” He said sweetly.

Elodie felt her love for Jungkook grow a little bigger as they said their goodbyes and she got back to work.

“You’re awfully brave.” a voice called from behind her.

Elodie turned her head and saw the oldest member of Wild standing in the doorway. “Thank you, Wooyoung. I think?” Elodie seemed unsure of how she was to take that statement.

Crossing the floor and plopping down on the overstuffed chair next to Elodie’s, Wooyoung watched her for a moment before speaking up again, “Do you really trust Lani with your fiancée?” He questioned.

Elodie’s head snapped in his direction and started laughing, “Wooyoung! Of course I do. She’s my best friend and Jungkook is my fiancé. Why wouldn’t I trust them?” She thought the idea was absolutely ridiculous that she wouldn’t.

“I’ve seen a lot of unloyal dogs in my day, even the most loyal can change if a nice pair of tits walk by.” Wooyoung explained, dead serious.

“Who has nice tits?” Jimin called walking into the room with Hyun and Daniel behind him.

Elodie caught the three up on the short conversation between her and Wooyoung. “He’s not wrong, Miss Elodie.” Daniel chimed in. “Men are dogs.”

Elodie exchanged a look with Jimin before the two burst out laughing, “honestly, where do you boys come up with this stuff?” Elodie questioned.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Hyun said before heading out with the rest of the boys, leaving Jimin alone with Elodie. The two sat in a thoughtful silence for a while as Elodie went over the notes she had on the last interview with the boys to figure out what she had messed up.

“How long have you and Jungkook been together?” Jimin asked.

“Seven years or so,” Elodie answered absentmindedly, her eyes staying on the paper.

She didn’t see the pained look Jimin had on his face, mixed with guilt.

————————————

Elodie and Lani’s friendship didn’t start out easy. Granted even if Lani had been the one to show Elodie the ropes, they had conflicting personalities and interests. Elodie was quiet and soft spoken and enjoyed reading and coffee. Lani was loud and outgoing and enjoyed drinking on weeknights and hooking up with anyone who caught her eye.

Of course, Elodie had been jealous of Lani at first, wishing she had the body or the confidence the red head had to live life to the max. But it had also been Lani who told her that even Elodie’s way of living was living brightly. There was no wrong way to live your life as long as you were doing what you enjoyed.

So when Elodie had brought Lani home to meet Jungkook, she was shocked that the two didn’t get along at all. Jungkook was the first to outright say it, that Lani wasn’t a good person. No explanation. And Lani had glared daggers at Jungkook all night. No explanation.

Elodie felt torn because she didn’t want to be in a position where she had to pick, because at the end of the day it would always be Jungkook; and the two knew that. Quietly accepting her defeat, Lani had told Elodie that she would never force her into a situation where she would have to tell Lani to hit the road. The only thing Jungkook and Lani could agree upon was that they would put up with one another, for Elodie’s sake.

Now, Elodie gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of her apartment. Her black hair hung straight over her shoulders, and her once vibrant green eyes seemed dull in the soft yellow lighting of the tiny room. Her cheeks were smaller than they had been just six months ago, and her skin seemed paler than usual. One thing she knew for sure was that she needed some sleep. She would worry about her beauty later.

Returning to the living room she found Jungkook and Lani in an intense discussion over the coffee table where Elodie had left them. Upon hearing her return the two sat back and easy smiles replaced the tense looks that they sported moments ago.

“Everything okay?” Elodie asked cautiously while returning to her seat next to Jungkook.

“Peachy.” her fiancé gritted between his teeth.

Lani gave Elodie a sad smile and went back to picking at her slice of pizza.

Elodie knew everything wasn’t peachy.

————————————

If you were to ask anyone to describe Elodie, you would get several answers. Answers that ranged from “sweet” to “caring” all the way to “saintly”. Elodie had a big heart, and an even bigger heart for those she held most dear.

Lani and Jimin trailed behind Elodie as she browsed the racks of clothes in the department store. One of them offering fashion advice here or there in her endeavor to pick out the perfect gift for Jungkook for Valentine’s Day.

He had basically everything he could ever want, but Elodie still wanted to get him something nice; something special. Jimin had advised getting him a fancy new coat. Lani had suggested getting something more spicy for the bedroom. Both were good ideas, and Elodie was currently shopping for them.

Since she was too embarrassed to shop for the “something spicy” with her friends, she asked if they would tag along and help her pick out the coat.

“Does he truly deserve this though?” Jimin said out of the blue, his brown eyes never leaving the rack of coats he was currently picking through.

“What do you mean?”, Elodie laughed, “of course he does. He’s been so solid through this last six months in my hectic schedule. He’s been practically a saint.”

“A saint is what I would call you, Elodie, not your fiancé.” Jimin grumbled.

Lani elbowed him in the side and gave him a look Elodie couldn’t quite place. Jimin looked at her and spoke a mumbled apology before moving onto the next rack.

“Pay him no attention, girl. He’s just a little pent up.” Lani giggled into Elodie’s ear. “Oh! What about this one?” Lani picked up a long wool coat. It was black and had gold buttons down the front and at the cuffs of the sleeves. It wasn’t flashy but by no means was it plain; it was exactly Jungkook’s style.

“God! That would be perfect!” Elodie grabbed the coat and held it up to look at it closer, marveling at the quality. She knew she had to get it.

Lani tried to hide the proud smile behind her hand, but Jimin saw it and she rushed to Elodie’s side and out of Jimin’s eyesight.

————————————

If you asked anyone he worked with, they would say Jimin was hopelessly in love with Elodie. Everyone knew it. Except Elodie.

She was too wrapped up in her loving and loyal fiancé to notice the longing stares of one Park Jimin. He wasn’t shy about his distaste for Jungkook and he definitely wasn’t shy to show his feelings for Elodie, but he would never outright say it. See, Jimin had fallen for Elodie when she started at the company; love at first sight. Ever since then he made it his goal to bend over backwards for the petite girl.

When he found out she was engaged, it may have caused a falter in his step on his quest to make his way into her heart; but by no means did it stop him. He wasn’t pushy. He didn’t overstep boundaries. And he definitely didn’t make anything awkward. But he did make it a point to always be there when Elodie needed someone to talk to.

His love for her however, has caused him great misfortune. A while back, Jimin saw something he shouldn’t have seen. God, why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one to see it? He had information that could seal the deal and be in Elodie’s heart - but that information was a double edged sword. It could bring him and Elodie closer, or it could put her farther away.

Jimin was selfish, and he knew that. So for now, he sat with this information. Whether or not he chooses to use it has remained to be seen.

————————————

Elodie was busy at work as usual. Her phone constantly going off as she answered calls in regards to certain interviews Wild had lined up. She hadn’t been able to go home in almost 48 hours, and it was starting to get to her.

Despite the crazy schedule happening, she kept note of how many times Lani would sneak off with her own phone, a smirk plastered to her face, to return ten minutes later looking a little dazed. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jimin either.

A deep frown was set into his features when Lani came back to the dressing room after twenty-two minutes (Jimin had timed it). “Jesus, Lani. Get it together will you? We have fifteen minutes before the boys go live and you’ve hardly been present! Get their outfits and help them dress.” Jimin barked at her, pausing his movements so he didn’t burn Wooyoung with the flat iron.

Lani’s head snapped in his direction, a retort on the tip of her tongue before she decided better of it. Elodie watched as she sat her phone on the vanity and disappeared in the racks of clothes, angrily picking out the appropriate outfits.

Elodie tried to help Jimin as best as she could, but the most she was qualified for was adding a light gloss to the boys’ lips.

Lani handed each boy their clothes and dressed them quickly before they were called to the stage for the interview. Everyone filed from the room and made a beeline to be on standby.

“Shoot! I forgot the mics! I’ll be quick!” Elodie shouted, waving down Jimin who gave a thumbs up and hurried off the everyone else.

Elodie made her way through the dressing room until she found the box she was looking for. Lani’s phone was ringing and Elodie glanced at it. “My Baby🥵💋” flashed across the screen.

Without thinking, she answered the phone, “hello?”

“Baby girl, you’ve kept me waiting too long.” A voice rang through.

Elodie’s heart dropped to her stomach, “what?” She breathed out.

“Come over after work tomorrow. Elodie won’t be here, she’s working over time.  We can spend our first Valentine’s Day together.”

That was Jungkook. No doubt about it. Panicked, Elodie tried to disguise her voice as best as possible, “Sorry, Lani is busy. She left her phone.”

“Oh?! Oh, god. I’m sorry.” Jungkook hurried and hung up. Elodie stood still for a few seconds, her head reeling and her heart pounding.

“Elodie? Hey, are you okay?” Jimin ran through the room to Elodie’s side. He glanced at her hand and saw Lani’s phone and the grief and confusion on her face.

Jimin knew that Elodie had probably figured it out, but now was not the time to touch base on it. They had work to do.

Gently prying the phone from her hands and guiding her to the stage, Jimin sent up a silent prayer that she would never know that he knew.

————————————

Elodie’s next three hours flashed by in a mere second. She couldn’t concentrate on the interview and Jimin had to save her a couple of times in her headset to keep her focused. Her mind never wavering from the phone call.

Her eyes never leaving an anxious looking Lani, who kept checking the time on her wrist watch and visibly getting more agitated as the interviews went on.

When they barely managed to finish, Elodie dropped all of her things into Jimin’s arms and took off for the dressing room. Quickly gathering her purse and coat, she made haste to get home. A quick phone call to her boss asking for tomorrow off since she wasn’t “feeling well” and a shabby plan in place, Elodie headed into her apartment.

“Baby, is that you?” Jungkook called from the bedroom.

“Who else would it be?” Elodie snapped back. Ten seconds passed before Jungkook poked his head out from the bedroom doorway, confusion written on his face.

“You okay?”

Elodie couldn’t help but think that his concern was fake, but a part of her still believed that he would never do something as heinous as she thought he was doing even if the evidence so far said so.

“Peachy.” She kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the bathroom. Running a steaming bath she allowed herself to emerge herself into the water, letting her body relax.

She laid there for several minutes before the sound of the doorbell chiming broke her from her thoughts. Listening she could hear Jungkook talking to someone in a rushed tone. Curious she got out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself and walked into the hallway.

At the front door was Lani, looking at Jungkook like he was something to be eaten. Elodie felt anger surge through her body. Holding her head high, she walked behind Jungkook.

Lani noticed her presence first, her sultry stare turning into shock and then to fear. Jungkook turned around and saw Elodie standing there with a puzzled look on her face. “Jungkook, I’ve been waiting for you forever in the shower.” Elodie said sweetly.

“O-oh? Oh! I’m sorry. The doorbell...” he trailed off unsure of how to reply.

“Lani? Is everything okay? Did I leave something at work?” She feigned ignorance.

“Uh, yeah! Actually. But I was just telling Jungkook that I forgot it with my stuff and just remembered when I got here. I’m so sorry to disturb you guys. I know  you haven’t been home in over two days and probably want some alone time with Kook.” Lani sheepishly said.

Kook.

She called him Kook.

“What was it?” Elodie pressed.

“Hm?” Lani asked.

“What was it that I left at work?”

Lani’s cheeks turned bright red and had the decency to looked ashamed, “a-anyway look I need to go. You guys enjoy each other tonight.” just as quickly as she showed up, she was gone.

Elodie watched Jungkook close the door in silence, marveling at the boldness of her best friend. Showing up here while Elodie was home to try and flirt with her fiancé. Jungkook’s eyes met hers and guilt was laid in them so deep, Elodie felt herself drowning in it.

Without another word, Elodie returned to her bath.

————————————

Elodie didn’t like to lie, she didn’t like to create a fuss. She liked to be straightforward and get problems out of the way. In this situation however, she felt she had no other choice but to lie. She still couldn’t believe the facts that were laid out in front of her, so she devised a plan to make sure once and for all.

She left for “work” at her normal time and headed to the cafe a few shops down from her and Jungkook’s apartment. It gave her the perfect view of the entrance so she could keep watch for Lani.

What she hadn’t anticipated was the long wait time. She entered the cafe at 8:15 AM and it was now nearing 11:54AM. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait it out or if she even had to wait. She was starting to feel ridiculous.

Another twenty minutes of waiting produced something interesting, Jimin had stepped into the cafe. He didn’t spot her at first as he made his way toward the counter, but it was peculiar to Elodie that he was here; this cafe was on the other side of town from his apartment.

Elodie watched him and waited for him to turn around and she waved him down. To say the least, the shock on his face was genuine. Their eyes held each other’s gaze for a solid five seconds before a smile dropped onto his lips and he made his way to Elodie’s table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Elodie stated, taking a long sip of her boba.

“I was in the neighborhood.” Jimin said cautiously.

Silence hung between them like a thick curtain, both lost in their own thoughts. Jimin broke the silence first. “Listen, Elodie. I have something to confess.”

Her eyes met his and she gave a slight nod to continue. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you. It pains me to say that, please believe me, considering what the secret entails.” He took a long pause to gather his thoughts and Elodie waited for him patiently, still keeping an eye on the front entrance of her apartment building.

“I actually came here today to work up the courage to tell you what I’m about to say. I wasn’t in the neighborhood.” He confessed.

“I figured that much out so far..” Elodie mumbled.

Jimin huffed a sigh and steeled his nerves, “I caught Lani and -“

Before Jimin could finish, Elodie caught the red hair of the current topic heading for the front doors of the apartment building across the street. Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt her stomach recoil. “Sorry, Jimin, I have to go.” she rushed the words from her mouth as she took off out of the cafe.

Jimin watched her run down the sidewalk and disappear into her building. “Oh, for fucks sake.” He whispered and took off after her.

————————————

Elodie wasn’t sure what she was going to walk into. She was hoping Lani just magically had a friend in this same building, on the same floor as her and Jungkook. But as she looked at what floor the elevator had stopped on, she couldn’t convince herself of anything anymore.

Slamming her hand onto the call button, she began to panic. Her breathing became erratic, and her vision slightly blurry. Once the doors opened she stumbled in and hit the button she needed and leaned against the wall trying to catch her breath.

“Elodie!”

Elodie’s head snapped up and saw Jimin rushing towards her. She pressed herself further into the wall as he came crashing into the elevator as the doors were closing.

“Jimin? What the hell?” She felt all the air leave her lungs in shock.

“Elodie, please do not go upstairs. I am begging you.” Jimin gathered her own shaking hands into his, holding tightly and pleading with his eyes.

“No, I have to.” She reasoned.

Jimin shook his head and groaned in frustration, “Elodie we both know what’s waiting up there.”

It was then she realized what Jimin had to confess to her earlier. He knew about Lani and Jungkook. But for how long? How long had he known? Surely just as recent as her, because Jimin would have told her. He’s a good friend.

So was Lani.

Elodie pulled her hands from his and stood up tall, throwing up her guard. “We can discuss how you knew and when you found out later, but right now I need to confirm it with my own two eyes. So if you are here to warn Lani or stop me, then please do not get off this elevator once it stops.”

Jimin’s hands fell to his side and nodded in compliance. He had to make this up to her somehow, and he would start by doing as she said.

The bell dinged signifying they arrived. Elodie gave Jimin an odd look before walking off the elevator. He followed behind her silently and prayed Lani had enough sense to not make this difficult.

————————————

The loud moans and the soft grunting beyond her bedroom door clued Elodie in quickly to her worst nightmare. Lani’s shoes by the front door and their clothes dropped precariously throughout the house just set her sense of dread deeper into her chest. Jimin had decided to stay in the living room at her request, but she wondered if she should have kept him by her side for support.

Her hand lay gently on the door handle, pausing quickly before pushing it down and sliding the door open to a dimly lit room. Her presence wasn’t yet discovered, luckily for her.

Elodie’s heart thrummed inside her ribcage, her stomach dropped and her knees felt weak - her head remained clear. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the jacket she bought for Jungkook laid sloppily on the floor amongst the wrapping paper it was in.

“Ah, Kook! That feels so fucking good!” Lani’s shrill moans brought Elodie’s attention back to them. Before she could even make a coherent thought she spoke,

“Oh yeah, Lani? Does it feel good? Does my fiancé MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD?!” Her hand flew to the wall to slap the light switch, illuminating the room.

Jungkook’s head whipped around so fast Elodie was sure it would snap. Shock and horror reflected on Lani and Jungkook’s faces as they scrambled to move away from each other.

“Babe..” Jungkook choked out, stumbling towards Elodie’s stilled body.

Ignoring Jungkook entirely, she made her way to the bed where Lani sat covered in the sheets. Ripping them off and tossing them to the floor, Elodie pointed her finger to the bedroom door, “Get the fuck out, bitch.”

Lani’s jaw dropped and Elodie screamed, “NOW!” and sent her into motion. She ran from the room and Elodie could hear the surprise from her when she saw Jimin in the living room - she would deal with that later.

“Get some fucking clothes on.” She spat at Jungkook and walked into the living room to see Lani struggling to get dressed. “Don’t even think of trying to leave when you finish.”

Lani slipped her dress on and sat meekly on the couch next to Jimin, both wearing guilty faces. When Jungkook finally emerged from the bedroom, she nodded at the space beside Lani and he sat down quickly.

Elodie just stood in the middle of the living room trying to collect her thoughts. Jungkook started to speak and she snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Jeon Jungkook.” she seethed, “are you three having fun? Huh? Is it fun for you to do shady shit behind my back and think I would never find out? HUH?!”

Three pairs of eyes were on her and she felt like suffocating, “Lani, I never want to see you again.” She continued.

“Jimin, I need to know how long you have known.” She pressed, her eyes boring into his.

“Four months.” He answered honestly. “I wanted to tell you, Elodie, I-“

“Then you should have.” She said bluntly. “And you, of all fucking people, Jungkook.”

He had the decency to look ashamed, and had the smarts to keep his mouth shut. “I want all of you out. Get the hell out of my apartment and the hell out of my life.”

Jimin and Lani didn’t need to be told twice, the two jumped up and ran towards the door, but Jungkook remained seated. “This is my apartment too, Elodie.” He mumbled.

“Fine, then I will leave.” She decided, but Jungkook grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Can we please talk this out? I’m so sorry, Elodie. Please let me make this up to you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“When did you stop loving me? Hm? Before or after you started fucking my best friend?” She questioned.

“I still love you, with all of my heart. Baby please understand that.” his desperate pleas had no effect on Elodie, “it’s Valentine’s Day.” He whined.

“Oh! Oh my god you’re right!” Elodie gently smacked her forehead in feign shock, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” Jungkook grinned up at her, “kiss my ass!”

Elodie pulled loose from his grip and strode towards the front door, Jungkook shouting after her. Ignoring him she stepped out into the hall and slammed the door.

Breaking into tears, she leaned against the front door letting them fall down her face. “Elodie?”

Jimin walked slowly towards her, looking defeated, “I know you don’t want to ever see me or Lani again, but I just wanted to let you know we both called the agency and requested transfers. You shouldn’t have to quit your job or move on from the boys, you have done so much for them and they would be more said if you left than us.”

Elodie nodded gently and stood up straight, “Thank you, Jimin. And you are right, I don’t think I can ever be friends with you or Lani again, but I do hope you both find success and happiness.”

Jimin felt his heart clench at her words as they both headed towards the elevator. They rode down in silence and went different directions once outside.

“I’m strong. I can do this.” Elodie whispered to herself. And she was - and she could.

[rosesvioletshardy]

can we do it? - billy/four chapter 8

so close to the end of the story ! this wasn’t my best story but i do have others in mind not sure if it’s going to be ben related or his characters

sorry about any requests that y’all might have sent for ben imagines i’m trying my hardest to write them but remember that i am working full time and that i am also a full time college student so it may take a while because my only free time is when i’m supposed to be sleeping but it doesn’t matter since i feel like you don’t like my writing anyways

so here’s chapter 8

summary: one team, seven people, two lovers, things are about to get crazy and zero and four don’t know if they can manage to do it.

masterlist

# of words: 2,608

warnings: angst:

taglist

--

After the fight, no one knew what to do. They all just stared at One hoping he was going to do something since he’s the one who warned them. As she was in the room crying, Billy was out smoking, not wanting to face anyone after what happened, especially One. Speaking of One, he was outside with his head in his hands, upset over what happened and how he knew it was bound to happen. Everyone was staring at him, waiting to go do something about it and he just sighed and got up to go see Y/N. 

He stood outside her room before knocking on the door and waiting for her to open it. After standing there for a few minutes, One walked in seeing that it wasn’t going to be opening anytime soon. He saw her figure laying down, her back facing him and towards the wall. Letting out a deep sigh, he went and sat down on the corner of the bed. Y/N knew it was One that entered her room and sat down; she knew that all too familiar sigh that he always does. 

“Um, listen. I didn’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so. God, that sounded so rude and I’m not good at this sentimental crap but you’re like a little sister to me and after seeing what Four said, I never wanted to punch him more. I know that sounds wrong but he pretty much deserves it for hurting you. This is why I didn’t want things like this to happen. Now I don’t know if your feelings are going to get in the way of the mission, which I know they aren’t so don’t kill me. I want everyone to work as a team and not let their feelings get in the way anymore.” he told her looking around her room hoping it’ll help him think of something

“What i’m trying to say is, I know how much he meant to you and you to him but you can’t let one thing determine how it’s going to be for the rest of your life. I’m going to be talking to Four as well about what happened. In the meantime, I want you to think everything over. I’m also going to need you to come with us on the boat when everything goes down. You’re going to be in the field this time instead of behind the computer. Not sure if you hear this but i’ll tell you once again before it happens. I hate to be that asshole, but you need to put your emotions aside and continue on even if you’re allowed to be sad.  Love you kid. If you tell anyone I said that I’ll tell the team that when you were 18, you threw up when your first boyfriend told you he loved you after a month of dating.” he said putting his hand on her shoulder and patting it softly before leaving. She heard everything he said and he was right as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She couldn’t let one thing be in the way of saving what could be the world just because she was mad at a boy. When she heard the door close and click, she got up from where she was laying and took a look around the room. Y/N noticed she saw Billy’s bag and remembered that since they were together they would share the room and a bed, but now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to even be in the same room as him. She got out of the bed and went into the bathroom to clean herself up but at soon as she saw herself in the mirror, all she saw was her red, blotchy eyes, with mascara dripping her face, and dried tears. She hasn’t seen this look since she got dumped in her first real relationship a few years before that wasn’t the guy she threw up on. Letting out a deep shaky sigh, she began to clean herself up before going outside for a much needed walk. 

The weather was nice when Y/N went outside. It wasn’t too hot but it wasn’t too cold. Everyone had gone to sleep but she wasn’t sure as to where Billy was but the thought of seeing him at the moment made her heart hurt. She wasn’t even sure if she also wanted to see Amelia at the moment too because it involved her too, but she couldn’t do that to her. What Y/N didn’t know was that Billy was watching her from the window in Blaine’s room as she sat on the porch and looked up at the sky before One knocked on the door and Blaine opened it.

“Hey, we need to talk. Like right now. I’ll be in the living room.” he said before walking out as Blaine looked between the two men distracted from his book and billy letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, you’re screwed. Sorry.”

“I know. Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. I feel like she doesn’t want to see me.” he said as he walked over to the door before leaving

“No problem man. Good luck. And don’t worry, it’ll all pass and you guys will both be back together soon.” he said patting his back before heading to the bathroom

“I hope so.” billy whispered, looking down at his hands and letting out a sigh before getting up and walking out of the room to go see One

One was pacing back and forth trying to think of ways to make sure that Billy and Y/N were able to get along while they finished the mission without them clashing or getting mad. Billy took a deep breath before walking in and going over to the couch and sitting down, ready to get yelled at for what happened. One noticed and stopped pacing, trying to find the right words to say to him without getting mad at him and not yell without waking anyone up from his own stupidness. Billy was just staring at his hands getting ready to be yelled and scolded at like how his mother used to when he was a teenager for getting ditching school and not focusing in school.

“Okay. I’m not going to yell because I know almost everyone is asleep and it’ll draw attention surrounding us, so i’m going to say this in the most calming tone ever. You are an idiot. The biggest idiot i have ever met. This is why I didn't want anyone on this team dating or hooking up. Things like that happen and others start to develop feelings. I know it’s natural but you literally just hurt her heart after she trusted you with it. She has been through a lot since the beginning of this mission and I'm pretty sure you already know by now that Six was her brother. I don’t know how much more heartache she can handle, but i do know that I don’t know what she’s going to do after this mission. I don’t know if she’s going to stick around and stay on the team when a new case comes up or if she’s going to create a new identity and leave because I know she can do that, but all I know is, she is like a little sister to me and I take family seriously. I know that may come as a shock to you and all since I refuse to talk about it and even admit it and all but I do take it seriously. I don’t care if you guys get back together or whatever, but I need to make sure that the team finishes this and that no one here is on bad terms because it’s going to my ass on the line then. Now, we don’t have long before all of this shit goes down. Get some sleep, it’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.” One explained to Billy as he then left the room

Letting out a deep sigh and putting his head in his hands, Billy sat there for a few moments before wiping away his tears and getting up to head back to Blaine's room. On the way back, he stopped in front of what originally was his and Y/N’s room and stood there before carefully walking in making sure to not wake her up just in case she had gone back into bed. He walked over to her and watched as her chest slowly rose and fell indicating that she had fallen fast asleep. When he took a look at her face, it stung him in the chest to see the dried tears and blotchy eyes knowing it was all his fault she was like that and that she had to cry herself to sleep. He took a seat on the floor and brought his legs to his chest as he held them together with his arms. He began to think about all the things they used to do when they first joined the group and how he always felt comfort in that he got to let the truth about him shine as they talked to each other. Billy never liked talking about his feelings, especially to his girlfriends, but with Y/N it was different for him. He always felt a sense of relief whenever he talked to her, even when it was hard for him to put how he was feeling into words. She just always knew how he felt. He remembers when they first met. It was when One was recruiting him and she was hiding in the corner watching the two of them as he yelled and One was talking to him asking if he was afraid. If Billy was being honest, he was terrified because he didn’t know what was fully happening other than he got kidnapped. He wasn’t sure if wanted to become a ghost at first, but then he saw the benefits of becoming a ghost and went through it. 

He went over to the bed and grabbed his bag, rummaging through to look for his cigarettes. He knew he should kick the habit soon, especially after making a promise to Y/N that he would, knowing that she didn’t want anything serious happening to him from them. Something else he knew was that in less than 12 hours they were going to have to finish the biggest mission of their lives. He couldn’t help but think about what they were going to do afterwards. Before their fight, he wanted to go climb a mountain and she wanted to go explore his hometown and get to know him better  but they knew that wasn’t a possibility so New Zealand was her second option. He stood outside for a few more minutes after finishing his cigarette before stopping it out and going back into the room. He didn’t want to leave Y/N. He didn’t know how long he stood there thinking before realizing he should get up and leave the room before someone came in and had to force him out and go back to Blaine’s. He took one more look at her and brushed the hair out of her face before placing a kiss on her forehead and left the room.

When he entered the room, there was a couch that was set up for him and he walked over to it and set his stuff down. Blaine could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t want to be there and would rather be with Y/N, but they knew it wouldn’t be a possibility any time soon.

“Dude, you’ve got to go to sleep. Rest your brain. I can tell you’ve been thinking a lot recently and it’s not the good kind of thinking too.” Blaine told him

“I’m not thinking.”

“Then what are you doing? Moping? Pretending like you weren’t just in a fight or whatever that was and that the love of your life hates your guts right now?” Billy didn’t say anything and just ignored him and got ready for bed. He was right though. She did hate his guts but she also still loved him.

“I’m just-I’m just worried about tomorrow. What if I-” “Tell me the truth right now.” 

“Fine! I am thinking about her! I��m thinking about how I pretty much ruined the one time I found love and that someone loves me back for who I am as a person. I’ve been cheated, backstabbed, and now I can't even talk to her without her wanting to kill me.” billy yelled out all in one breath before falling onto the couch running his hands through his hair 

“There it is. There’s that feeling you’ve been holding in.” Blaine told him before continuing

“Listen man. Relationships are going to come and go except for this one because we’re “dead” but I’ve seen the way you both look at each other. That’s real love right there. I don’t think I’ve looked at anyone like that before.” “Okay what’s your point here? You’re not exactly helping me out here.” billy told him getting slightly annoyed

“My point is, the two of you can’t be separated. No matter what. I know I haven’t been in this team since the beginning but I can tell that you and Y/N always had to be somewhat together or just talking to each other over the comms.” Blaine told him as billy looked down into his hands

“Is it true that you both had different comms so you can talk to each other separately?”

“Yeah”

“And what would she always tell you?”

Billy sat there quietly. He didn’t say anything to Blaine because he knew that he was right about everything he’s said so far. Him and Y/N were always together in some way. They were each other’s anchors and kept the other grounded at times.

“She would calm me down. Tell me things to keep me distracted.” “Did she do it when you were underwater?”

“Yeah” he answered, voice barely a whisper

Blaine didn’t have to tell him anything for him to understand where he was going with. Billy knew that he had to get her back but the same went with Y/N as well. They both knew they had to apologize to each other and not just billy to her. Y/N also needed to apologize to Amelia for the way she had reacted towards her. It wasn’t like her at all to act like that but something took over her mind and words just started to come out of her mouth that she wasn’t thinking.

“She loves you and you love her. Maybe after this mission or hell even during it everything will come back together. I don’t like seeing anyone this upset. Let alone two people I've become friends with. Now rest up, we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Billy nodded and fixed himself on the couch and got under the makeshift covers of his “bed” and couldn’t help but think about what Blaine was telling him. He did love her and he made sure to show it whenever he got the chance to do so and he betrayed her trust so she had every right to be upset at him. His eyes began to slowly close and drown out all the thoughts that were running through his head about what was going to happen the next day and where his relationship with Y/N stood.

[tamcitrus]

10 years later.

pairing: Bokuto Koutaro x g/n reader.

genre: angst, aged up characters

word count: 2K ~

prompt: It had been 10 years since your main character last saw their biggest crush. How they both ended up in the same city away from their hometowns makes no sense to them. How do they react and how does the story unfold?

a/n: first time using the prompt of the week! @kingkags I hope you're up for some angst 🌈 and @loneveenas I hope you like what I come up for your potw! 💕

It started with you coming back from abroad after getting your degree. You were outside your country for many years. After your parents' divorce and your break up with some foreign guy, you decided to come back home with your mom. You were in contact with your best friend in Tokyo and you meet her boyfriend, Hinata Shouyou.

"Come on, you have to come with me, you'll have fun and Shou has a lot of hot friends! Just for a while, if you're not vibing with it we can leave. You're sleeping here tonight anyways, so..." she said.

"Will there be alcohol?"

"Yeah, it's a party! They reserved a little restaurant, so it'll be just the team and their friends."

"Ok then we go," you agreed.

And later, you were happy you did.

You met Hinata as soon as you arrived.

"Order whatever you want, y/n! The drinks are on the team!" Hinata said and then he took his girlfriend away.

You walked to the bar and ordered a beer, watching everyone talk and dance. Hinata really had some handsome teammates. Maybe, with a bit of alcohol running through your system, you could talk to one of them.

"I'll take a beer, please 'Samu!" a man said by your side to a guy who seemed to be the bartender.

His voice was familiar. You looked aside to see the guy and gasped. This… couldn't be.

And then, the biggest golden eyes looked at you, and after a minute they showed recognition. And you remembered him too.

"Bokuto-kun?" you asked, just in case your memory betrayed you.

"Y/n? Oh my god, it's you!" he was as loud as you remembered him.

He was going to hug you but stopped to look at you and check if you were ok with it. You smiled at him and tied your arms around his neck. He hugged you tight from your waist.

"I can't believe you're here! How long it's been? Five years?"

"Like ten actually," you laughed. "I… do you play with Hinata?"

"Yeah! Do you know him?" he let you go.

"His girlfriend is my best friend, they invited me," you explained.

“That’s crazy! We live in a small world, right? Did you see the game?”

“No, sorry,” you laughed. “We just got here. But it’s great to see you’re a pro now, it really suits you.”

He guided you to an empty table and told you about how he became pro and how some of his teammates were his rivals back at high school. You told him about your years abroad, and how you decided to come back after a failed relationship.

“Are you living in our old neighborhood?” he said.

“No, we're here in the big city now.”

“Hey hey, Bokkun, we were looking for you! We'll play beer pong, are you in?" a blond guy interrupted your talk. "How about you? Wanna play...?"

"I'm y/n. And yes, I'd like to play," you smiled.

"He's Miya Atsumu. Tsumu this is y/n, an old friend!" Bokuto introduced you to his teammate.

He shook your hand and smiled at you. Then you followed him to the group that was playing.

A two hours and a lot of drinks later, you were drunk. Your friend found you again, sitting in a couch and laughing with Bokuto and Atsumu. She sat by your side to talk to you in the ear. Hinata was holding her hand, still standing.

"Hey, I'm gonna get going, I have something to do," she told you and you laughed.

You were too drunk to think straight and you slowly understood her words.

"Are you ditching me? Sakura?" you said, a bit louder than you intended.

"I can take you to her house later!" a smiling Bokuto offered and then he winked at Hinata.

"That's great, Shouyou will text you my address! Thanks, Bokuto-san! See you later, babe!"

And with a kiss on your cheek your friend left you there. You wanted to say something else but the alcohol in your system didn't allowed you to.

"You can crush in my place, if you want," Bokuto sit closer to you once Atsumu got up to talk to someone. "I don't think they'll end their thing soon, Hinata has a lot of stamina," he laughed.

You nodded and try to get up. Bokuto laughed when you almost trip with your own feet and grabbed your arm to keep you steady.

"Ok, maybe we can get going too, what do you think?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to bust your celebration," you pouted.

"I'm sure, yeah, I'm tired anyway. I'll text Hinata so your friend won't worry, ok? I'mma go say goodbye to the boys and be right back with you!"

He was still the same caring friend from ten years ago. It made your stomach to feel butterflies.

You sat on a chair near the door and you waited for him to come back. You texted Sakura, or at least you tried to, you'll check it in the morning. Bokuto was back in a few minutes and he guided you to his car. The trip was silent but you appreciated it. The cold wind of the night sober you up a bit.

"Thank you for inviting me, Bokuto," you said when you arrived. "You're probably the only person I trust in this city besides Sakura," you laughed.

"No problem. It was crazy to see you there today. Maybe we can finish our talk in the morning," he smiled.He signaled you to wait a minute and you sat on his couch.

He had a nice apartment, there was books everywhere and weights among other training stuff. You didn't remember he was a fan of books in the past.

Bokuto was back, changed, and offered you some clothes for you to change too.

"There's my bedroom, you have a bathroom inside and if you need anything else, I'll be in the couch."

"I can't come back after a decade and take your bed. I'll sleep in the couch."

"Y/n, you had too much alcohol to sleep in a tiny couch. You don't want your body aching with your head tomorrow, trust me," he laughed. "Please, use my bed."

"Ok but if you're uncomfortable, let me know," you said.

You really wanted to stay awake and keep talking to him, but your body thought otherwise. As soon as you got changed and hit the king size bed, you were out.

-

The next morning you woke up with a horrible headache and the smell of coffee dragging you to consciousness. Bokuto was humming to some pop song that was playing in a low volume.

"Good morning," you said after cleaning yourself up and walking outside the room.

"Hey, y/n, good morning! Do you have a headache? I don't have any medicine for it but I can drive you to your friend's place and we can get some in the way," he was turned with your back at you.

It was surreal. He was there, your childhood best friend, your biggest crush ever, the same you remembered him from many years ago: friendly, selfless, funny, the same black and grey wild hair. And somehow he was even more handsome now.

"I can take the bus there, don't worry about it. Do you need help?"

"All done!" he walked to the table with a tray with two coffees and cookies.

"We can go out next time and I'll pay, in return for last night," you said. "Well, if you want…"

"I have a few free days this week so I'll take your offer," he smiled.

The breakfast was for catching up, again. You felt you could talk to him about your years without seeing each other forever. He talked to you about high school after you left, volleyball and his pro career. And you exchanged numbers. Then, he drove you to Sakura's place. Hinata was still there so they left together.

"I can't believe you left me there last night," you said to your friend when you were alone.

"Hinata told me you and Bokuto knew each other, so I thought you'd be fine, I wasn't gonna leave you with some stranger!" she excused. "And you left with him! What happened?"

"Nothing happened, I was drunk…"

-

Bokuto texted you later that week and you met again on his free day for dinner.

"Life's pretty much the same but sometimes people recognizes me or stops me in the streets now, that's crazy," he laughed. "What about you?"

"Nothing that interesting. I got my business degree in England and I'm working at my mom's company for now, until I can use my degree here," you took a sip of your wine.

"And your failed relationship?"

"Oh, I thought he was a good guy but it turned out he wasn't," you faked a smile. "I wouldn't say I was in love but I cared about that idiot."

"That's a shame, you were a great person when you lived here and I bet you're even better now," he commented.

"Thanks, Bokuto," you blushed.

I shouldn't let my hopes up, you thought. Surely he has someone in his life after all this time. I shouldn't revive an old feeling.

"Shit, sorry, I have to get this," he said when his phone rang.

"No problem, I'll ask for the dessert while you talk," you smiled and he nodded at you.

-

You saw each other several times the next two weeks. Every talk, every text, every meeting you had reminded you why you were in love with him. Maybe you never really got over him. Maybe, deep inside, you still loved him.

"I'd say you go for it!" Sakura told you one day. "I never heard that he had a partner and, come on, how could you not brag if you were dating someone like him? We should've seen a picture or something."

"I don't think Hinata would be happy to hear you say that," you laughed and tried to avoid the topic.

"Come on, y/n. You're amazing and he seems to be interested to rebuild your friendship after a decade. Shoot your shot, my friend, don't let the opportunity vanish again."

You sighed and kept drinking with your friend. Maybe next time, you thought.

-

A week later, you were at Bokuto's place again, having "the afternoon english tea" as he said. You even got him some blends to try.

"You did this every day when you were abroad?" he asked.

"No, not always. I tried to keep my japanese traditions too," you smiled at him.

You watched a movie and shared silly comments in between. The sun was going down when it ended.

"Do you want to order a pizza?" he asked.

"Yeah, that'd be cool," you agreed.

This is it. Now or never.

"Can I talk to you about something? When you finish the call," you said and he nodded.

He grabbed his phone and walked to the fridge to get the number from his favorite pizza shop. Just before he dialed, the doorbell rang. He walked to the door and gasped after he opened it.

"Akaashi!" he sounded happy.

You leaned back to look at the door and saw something that maybe you shouldn't have seen. They were kissing. It was quick and innocent but it was a kiss. You looked at the tv again.

"Y/n is here!" Bokuto said and they were walking inside. "I told you about them, remember?"

"Yes and you texted me about them too," Akaashi softly laughed. He had luggage with him and he left it by the door.

"Y/n, he's Akaashi Keiji. Do you remember him? He was in first year, you met him before you left," Koutaro introduced you.

"Yes, I do, you were Bokuto's teammate! It's nice to see you, Akaashi-kun," you smiled.

"Nice to see you're back, y/n-san. Bokuto told me that you happened to meet at a party, that's a huge coincidence. It sounds like fate."

"I was about to order pizza, did you eat something?" Bokuto asked from the kitchen.

"No but pizza sounds good," he smiled. Then he disappeared inside Bokuto's room.

Fate. Yeah, it was laughing at your expense.

"He looks tired, maybe I should go," you said when you heard the shower.

"It's ok, you can stay!" Bokuto turned around to look at you. "Are you ok, y/n?" he saw your weird expression.

"I have to go, sorry," you grabbed your stuff and walked to the door.

He followed you outside after he told Akaashi he was going out for a second.

"What's wrong?" he asked again.

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't know…" you struggled to explain.

"Is this about Akaashi?"

"No- uhm, well, not exactly. It doesn't matter," you were standing at the entrance of his little house.

"I'm sorry. I should've told you…" he figured out by himself. "We don't… we can't make it super public, he's a writer and his agent…"

"No, it's fine, you don't have to explain. I never asked," you laughed. "Akaashi is a perfect fit for you."

"Yeah, he's… awesome. You're awesome too, I mean it," he hugged you.

"Thanks, Bokuto. And I'm happy for you."

You separated from him and smiled.

"Text me when you have a free day, I'll invite you both to eat," you kissed his cheek. "See you later."

-

You went to Sakura's apartment that night. After a bottle of wine, you were able to tell her what happened.

"His partner was on a trip. And then… they arrived with me there. And I was about to… I was gonna tell Bokuto maybe I never got over him… and then he was kissing someone…"

"I'm sorry, I was the one that told you to go for it," Sakura felt guilty.

"Nah, that's fine. I… it's been 10 fucking years, there's no way he wouldn't have someone. He's the perfect guy," you laughed.

"Ok, so... There's this guy. Shouyou's teammate…"

"I don't know if I'm interested…"

"Atsumu, that's his name. Shou told me he asked about you the other day, he wants your number."

"Well, tell Hinata that he can give Atsumu my number," you agreed.

"Just have some fun and you'll get over it. Besides, he's still your friend, right?"

"Yeah, he is."

[monsterfuneral]

1960 / The Comfort

Headcanon Series: Paul’s Life Through The Decades

Warnings: Fluff, Family bonding, Paul is finally happy, then I rip it away :), character death, brief mention of cancer, angst, kidnapping, trauma responses (abuse resulting in memory loss)

Words: 1.4k

Author’s Note: This one just makes me soft man, also Daisy is an OC I made specifically for these headcanons I hope you like her. Anyway this is my personal favorite part so I hope you guys enjoy!

Questions regarding any of these headcanon posts are greatly welcomed! If you have your own headcanons or questions regarding mine, I would love to hear them! See you guys in the next part!

Series Masterlist

---

- When I tell you Paul embraced the 60s with open arms I mean it. His previous vengeful nature had finally been shooed aside and he was left with a new decade to start fresh, and he did. They had finally moved to a new place, David’s hometown, Santa Carla. The three vampires moved into an old hotel that had been sucked underground by an earthquake, though David didn’t divulge much about his life or what this place truly meant to him, being a pretty private person he kept his lips tightly sealed. 

- Paul had come to love walking around at night, the ocean breeze ruffling his now shaggy hair as he stared up into the night sky. He had found peace in being alone with his racing thoughts, sometimes commentating with himself about the things he saw or thought about in order to keep himself entertained. He was mostly thankful that the others finally trusted him to be alone again, he didn’t have Dwayne trailing after him in order to make sure he didn’t slip back into old habits. 

- He also started attending concerts more. Music had always been something he thoroughly enjoyed. But his parents restricted it being played in the house growing up, unless it was strictly gospel, saying any other form of music was a pathway leading straight to the devil’s door. Thankfully now without being underneath his parent’s judgemental gaze, he allowed himself to be consumed by music. Plus he knew by now he would be going to hell either way, so why not indulge yourself in the simple pleasures? So he sang along with a joyful smile on his face.  

- One of the most memorable nights of Paul’s undead life was after his first concert he attended. He had met a boy hanging by his waist over the railing of a bridge giggling to himself as he stared down at the intimidating drop. Paul asked what exactly he was doing and the stranger just said “I feel like I'm flying, man.” His words were slightly slurred and his shoulder length curls were blowing in the wind revealing his boyish face, the apples of his cheeks glowing red from the chilly air and probably a little something else.

- It was safe to say he was curious about this one. Such a strange man in loose fitting clothes just wandering about in the night clearly inebriated without a care in the world. They hit it off pretty quickly, Marko’s personality was so different from his vampire companions. Paul was able to make jokes without the fear of complete silence, or David’s infuriating smirk. Marko was a bright light in Paul’s darkness, someone who he felt an instant connection to. They would both ramble back and forth, Marko meshing perfectly with Paul’s mile-a-minute mind and Paul keeping a close eye on the wreckless stoner who seemed to have a smile that could outshine the sun.

Marko was what brought out Paul’s true self. The wild child his parents claimed him to be apparently wasn’t as wrong as he had thought.

- Marko had introduced him to his friend Daisy, an older woman who had a gap-toothed smile and wild red curls. She, much like Marko, was a beam of light. They had told him the story of how they met, how Marko had been homeless in New York after his mother was murdered, and how he had found Daisy when they both hopped into the same boxcar on a train. Marko had said she was like a mother to him and it warmed Paul’s heart seeing how close they were. 

- David and Dwayne had even tagged along on occasion to smoking circles, listening to Daisy go on about her life before and after being homeless. She was a sentimental person who felt like she belonged with the trees more than anywhere else, saying her soul had been drawn to the forest and she never looked back. The two vampires had also gotten along with Marko, it felt like things were finally evened out when the five of them were together. There were no hissing arguments between David and Paul, no petty cold shoulder, just a bonfire and a shared joint and some stories being told.  

- Daisy had even taught Paul about the wonders of astrology, and gifted him one of her favorite crystals much like she had done with Marko when they first met. She, like Marko, had become a beacon of light in his life, like a sister to him. She was always dragging him up to dance around the fire to her favorite Janis Joplin song, singing the lyrics with a half smoked joint between her fingers. He truly felt at home, for the first time ever, he felt loved and wanted. 

- While he knew David and Dwayne cared for him, this felt different. This was a kind of bond that made him truly believe that soulmates were real, the deep connection he had with Daisy and Marko felt like nothing he had ever felt before, and there was absolutely no way he would give it up.

- Marko and Daisy had ended up finding out what they were when Paul got too high one night and let it slip. But much to everyone’s surprise neither Marko nor Daisy minded. They had told them about how they had met a handful of vampires and even werewolves during their adventures, so they weren’t exactly strangers to the supernatural. That only served to bring them all closer together, with their secret out in the open it was all smooth sailing.

- Until Daisy got sick. They all began noticing her wincing, the pained look on her face whenever she would move, the way she seemed weaker and found it hard to walk some days. Without access to doctors it was hard to figure out exactly what it was, at first they had assumed it was just something small, but she only got worse. 

- They had come to the conclusion that it had to be some kind of cancer. That was when Paul had helplessly begged Daisy to let them turn her, unshed tears in his blue eyes as he crouched down next to her sleeping bag. 

- But she only smiled, cupping his cheek gently before saying “I’m not meant to live forever kid, souls like mine are meant to die out.” She almost seemed at peace when it came to the idea of dying. 

- When she started to get more and more sick she eventually told them where she wanted to be buried. Deep in the forest underneath a large oak tree. 

- So when Daisy finally gave her last breath by the fire, Paul and Marko did exactly as she asked. They had cried at her grave until the sky started to lighten and the threat of Paul dying too was almost unavoidable. 

- The next night Paul urgently asked Marko to become one of them, saying he couldn’t lose his best friend, his soulmate. 

- It didn’t take much to convince Marko, after all he had quite literally lost the only person who he stayed human for, but that didn’t mean he had to lose everything. So he turned and joined them happily. Marko’s adjustment to vampirism was rocky but not nearly as bad as Paul’s, he had cravings and would sometimes go overboard but he had three people to help him gain control, he wasn’t alone like Paul had felt. 

- By 1964 Paul had finally become closer to David again. He had taken Dwayne’s advice and talked to him about all the things that had eaten away at him for the past two decades, Dwayne and Marko serving as mediators when things got a little more heated. But they had come to an agreement, an understanding. 

- But it seemed just as the dust was settling again things only got kicked up again when a couple of vampire hunters ambushed Paul one night, kidnapping him and using him as bait to lure in the others. The abuse he endured had left spots in his memory, not able to even remember just how bad things had gotten, it was all just flashes of him screaming and begging for mercy. 

- David quite literally tore through the hunters in order to save Paul, a crazed look in his eyes which only softened when Paul was finally safe. It almost felt like for the first time in three decades Paul had been reduced back to the cowering boy he was when David first met him. It was a hard sight for all of them to take in, especially Marko. It took a good five years for Paul to fully recover from the traumatic experience. 

But now his relationship with David had been set in stone, David had proven that he would go to any lengths to keep the boys safe, no matter how dangerous. 

[marvelatthehottotties]

Steven Grant Rogers - Prologue

A/N: These will be mini series for the avengers that has been co-written by a dear friend of mine @keliza

Masterpost Chapter 1

Warnings: Death of loved one, angst

Words: 2,346

“Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” - William Shakespear 

Love is a magical thing. Some explain it though religion, others use science. The truth is we don’t know why it happens. Nobody truly knows what brings two souls together in the universe. Perhaps the most magical thing is when those two souls finally meet and bring a new life to the world. This is a daily occurrence. Every single day about 385,000 babies are brought into this world. 

It was the fourth day of July in 1996 that one very special child was born. The 220th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence was the day Steven Grant Rogers was brought into the world. His mother, Sarah Rogers, often called him her little patriot. Steve’s upbringing was a loving one for many years. It was just Steve and his father and mother. 

On Father’s day in 2000, Steve’s father went to the hardware store, but he didn’t come back. This left Sarah in a tough position. She didn’t have a job, they were a single-income family. Her husband made enough money to support them so she never had to worry. Now she was on her own with a toddler. Luckily, their hometown of Avalon had a pretty good public school. She was able to get Steve enrolled in kindergarten so she could get a job. 

When Steve was 6, they discovered he had asthma. This wouldn’t be a huge deal for most families, but Sarah was just getting by with the bills on a hostess’ income. They made it though. Steve had gotten good grades and progressed well, all things considered. Avalon wasn’t an expensive place to live, and once Sarah had found a job that would support them, they lived happily. 

Steve was about 9 when he met James ‘Bucky’ Barnes in fourth grade. The two became best friends rather quickly. It was evident to everyone around them the two would be friends for a lifetime. The two did everything together. When Bucky needed him, Steve was there. When Steve needed him, Bucky was there. 

The boys had looked out  for one another, but nothing could prepare Steve for the year of 2008. Steve was 12 years old when Sarah fell ill. They were sitting in the hospital when Steve heard the news that his mother was terminal. Bucky was by his side the whole time. Steve wouldn’t forget the day the words, “She has two- maybe three years.” left the doctor’s moth. This brought a sound from Steve that he didn’t know possible. Anguish. Despair. His mother was his light. His Angel. The thing that kept his feet on the ground, and now she was dying. Words cannot explain the closeness that Steve and his mother shared. 

From that moment, Steve pledged his life to his mother. He came home from school every day and made sure she got her medication, did his homework, helped her with dinner, then watched a movie with her until she fell asleep. Sometimes they would play a game of Monopoly or Life. 

Soon,  Steve was old enough to get a job. Without his mother’s income and his father having abandoned them, they were left destitute. It was a fight to get her medication and put food on the table. Steve had to make sacrifices. His mother’s Diabetes had been progressing- they say she had it long before they knew. It didn’t take long for their funds had run dry, all their savings gone. Steve had a job as a grocery store clerk after school on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays but it wasn’t enough. 

Sarah’s insulin had been far more expensive than he had anticipated and they couldn’t afford it. It was that or food. It was a choice nobody should have to make. Steve would rather go hungry so his mother could get every second longer out of her life. That’s when Bucky stepped inside, a bag hidden behind his back. 

“I come bringing gifts.” he said firmly, plopping a paper sack on the wooden table. Steve looked up from his books. Papers were scattered along the oak on over half of the table. He wanted to go to college but it was a far off dream. “What’s this?” The blonde stood, peeking into the bag then snapped it closed, the paper crunching loudly in the kitchen. “What is this??” the blonde whispered at his dark-haired companion. “Food. It is what you put in your mouth hole that gives you energy.” Bucky said in an overly snaky tone. “I don’t- I can’t accept this,” Steve tried to deny the gift. 

“Too bad,”

“Bucky. I can’t,”

“You can. Dad paid for it anyways so it’s no money out of my pocket. Now you-” Bucky placed two firm hands on his pal’s shoulders, the slender boy shuddering at the sudden pressure, “sit.” Bucky plopped Steve down into his chair. “Ea,t” He pulled a pre-made sandwich out of the bag and placed it in front of his friend, “And do your homework so that you can play Uno with us.” Bucky said firmly then grabbed two more and crossed from the kitchen/dining room into a small bedroom. Steve sighed, hearing his mother’s voice and Bucky’s mingling in the distance. His friend was more charitable than he realized. 

He spent about 30 more minutes doing his homework. He had an hour to spend with them before he had to go to his second job at a nearby craft shop. His boss had allowed him to put some items in the shop, knowing that Steve was struggling, so that they may sell and he could get some extra money. Bucky seemed to come around less often recently. He thought it was because his father didn’t like Steve that well. He didn’t know why, but the last few years he got the vibe that he wasn’t liked by the owner of Avalon Insurance. 

He came into the room slowly, always hesitant to step into his mother’s room. It wasn’t because she was there- it was because he was scared she wouldn’t be. He knew she was already two  years passed when they said she would die. He knew she could go any day. It scared him more than anything in the world. Bullies he could deal with. Bucky’s asshole father, he could deal with. An asthma attack, he could deal with… but losing Sarah… it would change him and he was terrified of it. 

Push those thoughts aside, Soldier.  He reminded himself. He was his mom’s soldier and he needed to fight for their comfort while she fought for her life. He stepped into the small bedroom, a twin sized bed sitting in the middle of the room, the walls painted a light lilac color, a matching quilt over his mother. He walked across the stained carpeting and sat on his mother’s bedside. The woman had blonde hair that matched her son’s, but she was very thin and clearly not well. 

“Where did these come from?” the tall dark haired man asked, his eyes bright. Steve cocked his head to the side then nodded, “I drew those for mom” he said. In his hand, Bucky held about thirty sketches. Some were landscapes, but most were body parts. Many were of himself or of his mother. That's all they needed. A couple were of Bucky too. What Bucky found the most interesting was that many were of hands. His mother’s hands. His and hers together. Some were of her lips, her nose. Steve had a talent. Not even Bucky knew. “She liked one I did so i’ve been doing it a lot” he nodded to her gently. He had a knack for bodies and the human form. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Rogers” Bucky ruffled his hair. 

The next two years were more than his mother could have asked for. She survived 4years passed they said she would, and Steve never stopped. He still worked at the art shop, attended classes through the week at the local college (part time), got a new job in management at a local department store that paid a little better, and had been doing some drawings at the local fair every summer. That’s where most of his college money came from. 

Bucky had recently found out while on a run that Steve had stopped renewing his inhaler medication to afford his mother’s insulin. It was a hard choice, as Steve knew if he had an attack bad enough, it would mean hospital bills they couldn’t afford, but it was a risk he had to take. This caused a mild fight between the best friends because Bucky just knew Steve was going to lose his mother, and he worried for his brother more than anything in the world. 

Wednesday November 12, 2014. This was a day Steve would never forget. He woke up that morning, made breakfast for him and his mother, then went to class. When he returned he had 20 minutes to spend with her then had to go to work at the art shop. That’s when it happened. He came into his mother’s room to tell him about his school day as he always did, and she just looked at him. A sad, distant expression in her eyes.

 “Come my son.” She whispered. Steve made his way to her, mentally going over a checklist to make sure she got all of her medications. She had other things as a result of her diabetes, all of which had to be monitored. “Are you feeling alright” he asked, running a hand over her face and gently taking her hand. She gave it one firm squeeze, “It’s time” she whispered. She had known all day, but held out as long as she possibly could. “Lie with me” the woman whispered to him. Steve felt the blood rush to his face, time. It couldn’t be. Not yet. Please, God.  Steve thought to himself as he lied beside Sarah. The woman wrapped herself in his arms, the two holding each other. 

“I am so proud of you, my son” she whispered. Steve felt tears brimming the bottom of his eyes, “Everything I’ve done is for you.” She gave a gentle nod, coughing a little bit as she inhaled. “I know… but it’s time you lived your own life.” 

“This is how I want to live my life- mom, with you.” Steve choked, trying his hardest not to cry at his mother's last moments with him. “No,” she said stubbornly. Even on her literal death bed, Sarah Rogers was a strong woman and wouldn’t take any other answer than what she knew to be correct. “You have lived the last six years being my humble doctor.” she said quietly. “I’m thankful-” she stopped. She cleared her throat and cupped his cheeks, “I’m thankful I got to see the man you will become.You’re a good man, Steve. I’m proud of who you are.” 

Steve felt the tears begin to roll down his cheeks, “Mommy please don’t leave me-” She tutted and kissed his hands, snuggling back down into his arms. “Shh…” she soothed. “I will be okay.” she said, her voice faltering. She closed her eyes. The two lied like that for nearly half an hour before a quiet whisper breathed, “I love you, my Patriot.” 

“I love you too, mom… more than life itself.” Steve said to her. He had so much more he wanted to say to her but he couldn’t find the strength to speak again. He had drifted off to sleep with her in his arms, no regard to call into work and let them know- he didn’t care. All that mattered was Sarah and him. He didn’t even call Bucky to tell him his favorite woman was dying. 

Part of him thought Bucky knew. Part of him knew. She hadn’t been doing well the last few days and Bucky asked to speak with her alone. Maybe he was saying goodbye. Not that he would ever admit it. 

The next time Steve opened his eyes, the sun had come up. He fell asleep around 6 pm and slept nearly 12 hours. He was exhausted. He looked to Sarah, the woman’s eyes were closed, her lips together, but it didn’t look like she was asleep. There was no stiffness in her muscles. Her cheeks had sunken in. Her body relaxed. She was gone. 

Steve had thought this moment over a million times in his head. How he would react. He thought he would scream. Be angry. Cry. But right now… He knew she was finally at peace. He didn’t know where you went when you died. None of us do. But he knew wherever she was, she wasn’t suffering. Sure, she had survived four years longer than they said, but she didn’t live. She was bedridden most of that time. 

Steve kissed her hands, knowing this was the last time they would hold each other. “I love you” he whispered and hugged her body close to his. He sighed shakily, tears running down his face, wishing he could talk to her again. “I’ll make you proud. I promise” he vowed to her. He stayed there, knowing he could spend an eternity in bed with her. He let out a huff, pulling himself away from her bed and standing up. He knelt by her bed, packing away all her medical stuff. 

He gave a soft sigh and tucked her in so she looked more comfortable. He smoothed her hair out of her face and grabbed her rosary off her side table. He regretted he didn’t get her last rites. He wasn’t all that religious, but he knew she was. She didn’t ask for it, though. Maybe she had it arranged while he was at school. He would never know though. Once he was satisfied by how she looked more like she was sleeping, he went to the living room and picked up the phone. 

Call Bucky. 

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