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goodlucktai · 11 months ago

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a bigger heart grew back

rise of the tmnt post-movie characters: leo & splinter, raph & splinter word count: 5k title borrowed from no hell by cloud cult

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Splinter thought he had lived through all of life’s worsts already.

Losing his mother, estranging himself from what was left of his family, moving to the States as an orphan of his own making, falling in what he thought was love and losing his freedom as a direct result—

Years spent underground where he was forced to fight like a dog, an unwanted mutation that guaranteed his exile from society, that first bleak night in the sewers with nothing but the clothes on his back and four infants who depended upon him entirely and the utter conviction that he was going to fail them—

The resurrection of the Shredder, the collapse of Splinter’s home and the exodus of his children, the fear he had become unfortunately intimate with in those fraught hours—that his boys would become orphans, too—

Raphael’s escape pod opening and Leonardo tumbling out, eyes glassy and chest heaving with panic—sweet, sensitive Red covered in a fleshy pink parasite and forced to attack the siblings he loved more than life itself, those little turtles he had fussed over and carried and kept safe since he was just a little turtle himself—

But nothing compared to hearing the voice of his second youngest child as he prepared to end his own life.

His precious Blue, who could sell water to a fish, bravely trying to convince his siblings that it was right for him to go. Already pulling away, beginning the vanishing act, even as Raphael begged him not to do it.

All for that tiresome, nebulous greater good. As if any happy ending could possibly exist with Leonardo removed from the narrative.

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was, but his heart, patchwork, secondhand thing that it was, had never broken like this before. He crumpled to the ground, and listened to Blue’s line on the comms explode into a strange whine and then static and then nothing, and it was over.

His Blue would never crawl into his armchair for late night Spanish telenovelas again, Splinter realized. Would never wheedle and bribe and coerce him into chess matches, because he didn’t seem to know he could just ask and Splinter would play as many matches with him as there was time in a day for. Would never run from a successfully antagonized sibling and fill the lair with his ringing, infectious laughter. Would never fall asleep at the kitchen table over a medical textbook he pretended to be too cool for in the daylight hours. Would never effortlessly argue his twin out of the lab for dinner, would never lift Orange up on his shoulders to get a hard-to-reach mixing bowl because teamwork makes the dream work, would never painstakingly stitch together a ripped teddy bear for the brother whose fingers were too big to handle needle and thread ever, ever again.

There is not a word for a parent who has lost a child. There is not a word for that particular flavor of grief that carves you empty at the same time that it fills you to the last hopeless, drowning inch.

April sobbed openly beside him, her small, strong shoulders shaking. She had always been exactly what Splinter would have wished for in a daughter, and so the Hamato curse didn’t spare her, either. It takes and it takes and it takes.

And then Michelangelo turned his back on despair and handed his family a miracle.

Splinter could feel his remaining sons’ ninpo stir and then surge together, and the sheer forceful brilliance of it staggered him from all the way over on the other side of the city. He knew better than to hope—but he also knew that nothing existed in this world or the next that could possibly outstubborn his children, or strong-arm them into abandoning each other, or quite frankly make them do any single thing they adamantly as a group did not want to do.

“Guys,” April choked out. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Hello?”

Thudding footfalls announced Casey approaching at a run. He jumped over one of the pinned Krang’s flailing tentacles as if he dodged ballistic alien parts every day of his life and skidded to the ground beside them on armored knees.

“I felt it,” Blue’s child from another life gasped, face tacky with half-dried tears. “That’s Uncle Angie opening a door. No one else could do it but him.”

Casey had a familiar katana at his side, blue and gleaming. His fingers seemed like they wanted to linger on the hilt but he handed it over to Splinter agreeably enough. The lingering ninpo in the blade usually welcomed Splinter warmly, eager to be of use, a telling mirror of the way Leonardo himself was so anxious to please and be praised. But this time the tool that Splinter picked up was an innate, lifeless thing.

He prodded tentatively with his own qi. The runes flickered once, half-hearted, in the manner of a dog waking at the sound of a key in the door, ascertaining the person there was not the one it belonged to, and laying its head back down to sleep.

Splinter would not be able to follow the whims of his son’s ninpo to create a portal while it lay dormant. His own uselessness crushed him.

“Raph mentioned Staten Island earlier,” April said, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm and pushing herself to her feet, business-like and brisk because she couldn’t afford to be anything else. “I doubt the ferry’s running, and the bridge is going to be a gridlock nightmare, so it looks like we’re stealing a boat.”

“If your mother asks, I did not condone this,” Splinter said hoarsely. “That said, the marina is too far to run to, so first we are stealing a car.”

They were halfway across the river in a cruiser that probably wasn’t meant to sustain the sixty miles an hour April was pushing when that startling shout of their family’s ninpo finally started to fade into a soft-spoken susurrus.

Before it was too quiet to make out clearly, he felt it: that achingly familiar mischievous blue energy, like a playful breeze flying above everything. Much smaller than usual, less spirited—giving more of the impression of a tiny tide pool creature hiding inside its shell than a smartmouthed sixteen year old boy with the whole world in his corner—but present.

Alive.

“Sensei,” Casey whispered.

“They got him,” April said, a ferocious, not-to-be-trifled-with look in her eye, all but daring the universe to try to make her a liar. “They saved him somehow, I know it.”

They were both Hamato enough to feel it as certainly as Splinter did.

But the boys hadn’t thought to include anyone else in their immediate, hard-won victory—and in fact, the call Splinter, April and Casey finally received some ten minutes later was one of outright panic.

“Dad, dad, are you there?” Orange’s voice warbled. He sounded all of fifteen years old and frightened in a way that set Splinter’s fur on edge instantly. “Dad, Leo’s hurt bad. He was awake a second ago, and talking even, but then he stopped making sense and just—just fell—”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Purple added, high-strung and liable to start biting if one more thing went catastrophically wrong within a mile of his person. “I’m scanning him but I don’t—I’m not a doctor I don’t know—”

“Send the readouts to me,” Casey said quickly, pulling his mask down, its lenses glowing green as the interface came to life. “Sensei trained me in field medicine, I can help with anything short of an open-heart surgery.”

“You take after your father,” Donatello replied. “Irredeemable overachievers.”

That faint thread of gratitude in his voice would go unheard by anyone who didn’t know him, but Casey huffed a near-silent exhale, having heard it loud and clear.

What Future Boy had to share with them wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst it could have been, either. Leonardo had sustained a number of broken bones and soft tissue damage, the cartilage in his right knee was torn as if the joint had been viciously twisted, one of his cheekbones was fractured, and even his shell had suffered a few hairline cracks. Altogether, he was looking at a long recovery, not unlike what the survivor of a traumatic car accident might have had to look forward to—but he would recover.

It wasn’t enough to prepare Splinter for actually seeing him. His Baby Blue, a tiny little thing in Raphael’s arms, with a face so beaten it was hard to make out the bright red stripe on one side.

“Okay,” April said, voice thick with anger and hurt and love. “Okay. Everyone on the boat.”

And finally they were home, after the longest day in history. Casey confirmed his initial diagnosis, with the caveat that they would know more when Leonardo woke up. He insisted to an audience of grim faces that it was a very good sign Leonardo had been awake and coherent in the first place, however briefly.

So Blue was disinfected and splinted and bandaged and medicated and then tucked safely away in the infirmary bed. Everyone else was seen to in short order. It was an easier task than it usually was, since none of them were remotely willing to leave just yet.

Splinter made a mental note to call Draxum to double-check that Michelangelo hadn’t pushed himself too far in creating a gateway—the glowing lines on his hands had faded, and beyond an occasional tremor, he promised his family up and down that he was actually fine. Donatello’s shell was a quiet source of concern, but the only person alive who could harass him into a checkup without getting maimed for his trouble was currently very much out of action. Raphael’s eye was definitely infected, and blood vessels had burst when he’d ripped the parasite away, coloring the sclera an alarming red.

The rest of the clan watched in some unspoken, exhausted wonder as Casey unthinkingly maneuvered around Leonardo’s infirmary as if he’d spent part of every day of his life there, knowing which drawer to find compression gloves for Orange in, locating topical pain reliever for Purple that he could apply himself and medicated eyedrops for Red in quick succession, before ultimately offering a bottle of extra strength Tylenol to April, who accepted it gravely.

“You’re a weird kid,” she said. From her, it was a declaration of approval. “You better plan on sticking around.”

“Oh,” Casey said at length, surprised. Clearly, he hadn’t thought ahead to what the after of his mission would be shaped like. His gaze lingered on Leo’s little bundled-up figure in the bed, so full of love and grief for a man who didn’t yet exist, and Splinter thought to hell with it. The kid was as good as his grandson if you squinted.

“We’ll find a bed for you,” Splinter said, some tiny corner of his mind free from screaming worry and bone-deep exhaustion already plotting where to make room for another subway car. “In the meantime, the sofa is yours.”

With that, five out of six children had been packed off to sleep. It took April and Michelangelo combined to pry Donatello’s hand from Leonardo’s, and subsequently his entire person from the infirmary. Raphael pulled a chair up to Leonardo’s bed and Splinter didn’t try to argue him out, knowing when to pick his battles.

Red had a familiar look on his face, an elephant in the room that often went unacknowledged for both their sakes. That look that said you’re his father but he’s my kid, too.

He had earned the right. No one could argue that. Late night vigils were his wheelhouse and had been ever since he was about nine years old. When Splinter didn’t have to be quite so present—when he started to let the tired gray encroach more and more, when he stopped getting out of bed right away at the sound of a child crying—Red quietly learned how to tend fevers and stomach bugs and bad dreams.

Soon enough, the boys stopped calling for daddy when they were hurting and started calling for Raphie instead. And their Raphie always came when they called.

Which was why it must have hurt like a blade piercing clean through his ribs when Leonardo finally stirred at something approaching two o’clock in the morning, blinked muddy gold eyes open slowly, looked up at the familiar shape of his biggest brother beside the bed, and flinched.

The world hadn’t ended yesterday. It was happening now instead.

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was. But life did not seem to ever run out of brand new lessons to teach.

“Leo,” Red whispered, heartbreak obvious in every inch of him. His hand was frozen in the air between them, arrested right in the middle of reaching out.

“No,” Blue managed, twisting around like he would attempt an escape the second he figured out where his limbs were in relation to the bed, IV be damned. The lines on the heart rate monitor started to crest dramatically.

“Leo it’s okay it’s—it’s me, I’m not—I’m not going to—I would never hurt—”

His voice strangled itself into silence. After all, at least some of those grisly black and blue marks around Leonardo’s neck were from him.

“Papa,” Leonardo cried out, the call reaching directly into Splinter’s heart with hooks and yanking him out of his chair. “I want papa, please, please—”

Clambering onto the bed, minding all the hardware, Splinter placed a careful hand on his second-youngest’s feverish head to soothe him.

He felt like an imposter, especially with Red still frozen like a statue behind him, but that part of his heart that had been smothered once, allowing his children’s cries for him to go unanswered and someone else to pick up the slack, was the loudest part of him now.

There was physically nothing else he could do but stroke that bruised forehead with the pad of his thumb and tell him, “Hush, Baby Blue, your papa is here. You are safe. You are home.”

Leonardo turned his face into Splinter’s hand, hiding as much as he was capable of. Raphael took one staggering step back, then another, then turned on his heel and fled the way Splinter had no memory of him ever doing before, infirmary door crashing behind him.

Torn completely in two, Splinter summoned conviction from those ancient spirits housed in his soul and forced himself at knife point to be strong for his family for once in his goddamn life.

“What are these tears for, silly turtle?” he murmured, the same way he had when Leonardo still mostly fit in the palm of one hand. Back then, all Leonardo wanted was to be held. He wondered if that was still true. “You are the safest little turtle who ever lived. There is no one left in this world who is stronger than the people who love you, don’t you know that? Your baby brother pulled down the stars for you. Your twin did not let go of your hand even once. And your big brother carried you home. You are safe. You are so loved.”

It was a nonsense litany for the most part, all true things said to someone who clearly was only absorbing every third word or so. But Blue stopped hiding his face at some point, eyes wet with tears he is even now too stubborn to let fall.

Splinter felt as though he was looking at a childhood memory of himself, trying to be strong when it would have been better—kinder—to allow himself a much-needed moment of weakness.

“You think you’re too grown-up to cry in front of this old man?” he said, gently pinching Blue’s cheek on the side of his face that hadn’t been crushed beneath a monster’s fist. “Try again in about a hundred years.”

Blue blew a tired raspberry at him. Splinter laughed, surprised at the show of spirit, his heart doing cartwheels at this proof of his irrepressible little boy unchanged by the close brush with tragedy. Winning a laugh from his father was enough to coax the ghost of a smile across Blue’s face.

“How are you feeling? We have some water for you here. No, don’t sit up. Let me help.”

He really ought to let everyone know Blue was awake, but they had just gone to sleep. His other kids needed their rest, too. It had been a truly terrible day.

And now that Red was out of the room—that thought dripped with oily, unpleasant guilt—Blue seemed to be in a more solid state of mind. He had winced as he tried to sit up for water, but if he didn’t have whiplash after a psychotic alien flung him around like a terrier would its chew toy, Splinter would eat his tail. There were none of the red flags Casey had warned him to be on the lookout for. The only thing Draxum had done right in his life was develop a mutagen that made these boys all but indestructible. Splinter would have to find the mental fortitude to choke out a thank you to him for that.

“It has been a long time since a sick little turtle has called for me,” Splinter murmured, stroking Blue’s forehead around the bandages. “Normally you are all ready to fight each other to the death to monopolize Red’s attention.”

It was only partly a joke. Leonardo gazed up at him, eyes glassy. It was hard to gauge how much of their conversation was sticking the landing and how much was somersaulting straight over his sluggish head.

Then Leonardo said, “He hates me.”

“Pardon?” Splinter said stupidly.

His son blinked, and finally fat tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking into bandages on one side, unchecked on the other.

“He hates me,” Blue insisted. “He’s right. It was my fault.”

“No one hates you,” Splinter said, reeling. He’d been right here the whole time and yet somehow he was suddenly flailing about two miles behind.

“You didn’t see his face. You didn’t see—and his eye—all because I—I couldn’t—” He sobbed, an awful sound, and turned to press his face into his pillow. Once he started crying he couldn’t seem to stop. The rest of his words stumbled out thick and choked and terribly sincere. “I couldn’t just—be what I was supposed to be. And he—and it was all my fault.”

There were few things Splinter regretted more than his fumbling of the leadership role. He had always known that Blue was too clever for his own good, that he had a head for strategy—as evidenced by his early mastering of chess, entirely outpacing Splinter’s own skill level by the age of eleven.

Acknowledging that in theory and learning to trust it in practice were two separate beasts, but watching from the front row as his baby outsmarted Big Mama of all people left little room for doubt.

On the other hand, Red was as solid and dependable as they came, the foundation his siblings built their whole lives on. As far as they were concerned, the sun only rose in the morning because Raphael hung it up there.

But Splinter’s eldest son was prone to anxiety that tended to fall on him like a guillotine, a kill switch to his rational thought. The twins floated terms like ‘panic disorder’ and the entire family was well-versed in helping him through his episodes, but if even an ounce of the burden on his shoulders could be reduced, that could only help.

Red would be happier and function better in a support role, where his top priorities would be to protect his little brothers the way he always had protected them, and to smash whatever Leonardo pointed him at.

Splinter should have sat them both down and explained it. He shouldn’t have left Red to feel as though he had done something wrong, that he had failed somehow. And he shouldn’t have let Blue believe he would be shoved into the deep end and left to sink or swim.

His boys were little gremlins who thrived in chaos and learned best on the fly. Splinter had thought the surprise announcement would have been an utter shock at first and the new normal by dinnertime. They were always so much on the same page, so in tune with one another, that he couldn’t have guessed it would turn into the tangled mess of hurt and frustration and miscommunication and blame that it did.

He should have stepped in the first time Red punched through a wall in a fit of anger and Blue laughed as though his biggest brother’s good opinion of him didn’t matter in the slightest. Instead he was a coward, unable to face them and admit his wrongs. He left his children to resolve it themselves and suffer in the meantime.

He should have done better. Maybe one day he would learn.

For now Splinter held Blue’s face in one hand and wiped it clean with a cloth in the other, patient with every new flood of tears. The last time he had seen Blue cry was the night the Shredder destroyed their home and killed Karai. There had been no time to comfort him then.

He takes after his Gram-gram, Splinter thought, and tried not to resent her for it.

“No one hates my sweet Baby Blue,” he said, willing the stubborn child to hear him. “Especially not my other sweet baby Red. You are a very confused turtle, that’s all. You will see. No one hates you.”

“You don’t,” Leonardo mumbled. “You’re not allowed to. You’re my dad. You don’t have to like me, but you’re not allowed to hate me. S’in the—the contract. You signed it. Legally binding. No arbi-arbi—”

“Arbitration. I would like to study your mind under a microscope. Maybe then I will have a hope of understanding these twists and turns it takes.”

Splinter’s voice sounded nothing but fond even to his own ears.

His children were all incredible people worth knowing, worth living for, and it was a very special joy to still be surprised after all these years by how much more he loved them today than he did the day before. To think about how much more he would love them tomorrow, even though it felt impossible to love anyone more than he loved them right now.

“You are so important, Leonardo,” Splinter said gently. “To me, and to your siblings, and to your friends. We would miss you so much if you weren’t here. We all want to see you get well.”

“It’s not about me,” Blue said, wobbly and miserable and matter-of-fact. “I know it’s not. I have to make up for it. I’ll prove—prove—”

“You have nothing to prove. It was not your fault.” Splinter pressed Leonardo’s chin gently to close his mouth when he inevitably opened it to argue. “Hush. You did not steal the key. You did not open the door. It was not even your responsibility to stop either of those things from happening. You are a child. It cannot be any one person’s duty to save this planet on their own. That doesn’t even make sense.”

Blue’s expression was becoming thunderous, which was silly and endearing, because his cheeks were still tacky with the remnants of his tears and half of his face was a swathe of bandages and without his mask he looked years younger than he already was. Splinter felt affection unfold in his heart like one of those absurdly big tropical flowers with petals the size of dinner plates, taking up more room than it was allowed and spilling out the sides and going on forever.

“Can I tell you something else? Your brothers aren’t allowed to hate you either. It’s in the contract as well.”

“They do,” Blue said tearfully, face still screwed up beneath Splinter’s hand. But his eyes drifted in the direction of the door, and the wanting in them was plain to see. Splinter took matters into his own hands.

“If I’m right, you must finish watching The Strange Return of Diana Salazar with me.”

His son took a moment to digest that, slower on the uptake than usual. Finally, he asked, “Don’t we have like a hundred episodes left?”

“I said what I said,” Splinter said sagely, then patted his cheek and hopped down from the bed.

He found Raphael exactly where he expected to find him, sitting just outside the cracked infirmary door, a hunched over shape that seemed unwilling to take up a single unnecessary inch of space.

Red stared up at him, unbandaged eye wide.

“I don’t hate him,” he blurted. “I could never—I wouldn’t even know how.”

“I know, my dear.”

“Even if he’d done it on purpose,” Red went on. “Even if he stole the key and took it to the Foot and opened the door with his own two hands, I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.”

Splinter had worried when the turtles were very young that Raphael would frighten one of his siblings accidentally. He was so much bigger than them and toddlers were not well known for their self control or emotional regulation. It was a lingering fear that Red would say or do something he did not mean in the heat of the moment, and alienate himself. That something would happen in a split second that would cause his brothers to grow up wary of him.

It was an unfounded worry. Raphael was a quiet little boy, the last of the four to start talking, and as sweet as an American dessert. Splinter’s little apple pie. Even as he got older and started playing rougher, testing his strength and raising his voice, he never forgot when he needed to be gentle.

His brothers never ran from him unless they were avoiding bedtime or a well-deserved grounding or really did not want to go watch wrestling, Raph, it was boring. Otherwise he was their North star.

Even now, Leonardo would rather hide himself away than face a world in which he no longer had a Raphael to run to.

“How could he think that?” Red asked desperately. “He was going to die back there and he thought that’s what I wanted.”

Splinter cupped Red’s face in his hands and told him, “Blue was trying to do what his hero would have done. All of my children are so quick to sacrifice for each other. It is a wonderful thing to love someone so much, but consider the example you are setting.” Red’s good eye filled with tears, and Splinter was powerless to do anything but kiss him firmly on the forehead. “As empty as our lives would have been without him, they would have been just as empty without you. You are fundamental to us. Please remember that.”

“I know, pops,” Raphael whispered. “I’ll remember.”

“It is not always possible to win without losing but we must fight tooth and nail anyway. Abandon honor and heroism. Do what it takes to bring yourself and your brothers home. I would much sooner tell the great Hamato clan where they can stick it then let you join them before your time.”

It coaxed a shy smile from his eldest son, the barest exhale of a laugh. Still his sweet apple pie, no matter how big he got.

“I’m gonna go see him,” Red said bravely. “I’m missing out on premium Leo time while the gremlins are asleep.”

“Very wise,” Splinter said, patting his cheeks in approval.

Leonardo had managed to drag the blanket up over his head while no one was around to stop him, and only one golden eye peered out at them from his makeshift shell.

Raphael snorted and leaned over to peel it back down, heedless of his smaller brother’s protests. He let one hand linger on Leonardo’s scuffed plastron, and the other cupped the back of his bruised head.

“You’re so dumb,” Red said. “I love you more than anything. If you ever try to go anywhere without me ever again, I’ll make your life a living hell. Capiche?”

Blue stared up at him. It’s very possible he didn’t understand every word of that. But the tone seemed to get through.

His hand drifted up slowly, as if it weighed a thousand pounds, to cover the one planted on his chest. When the world didn’t end and his big brother continued to smile down at him like nothing between the two of them was any different than it used to be, Blue risked a smile back.

“I capiche.”

“You’re not alone, okay?” Red went on, playfulness gentling into sincerity. “We’ll figure it out. I’m in your corner, right where I’ve always been. But for now let’s get some sleep, big man.”

He didn’t move his hands even after Leonardo had dozed off. He just hooked his foot around the leg of his chair and scooted it closer to the bed before sinking into it.

Splinter joined him, and felt both aged by the last hour and rejuvenated. He needed a good pair of running shoes to keep up with these kids.

“He never asks to play chess with anyone else you know,” Red said suddenly.

Thrown by the non sequitur, Splinter could only offer an intelligent, “Huh?”

“Leo only learned how to play because of a comment you made once about—I don’t even remember what you said. But it stuck with him. He wanted to impress you. And he started learning Spanish because of those weird soaps you guys watch. He drove us crazy practicing every day but he never let up.

“I know that it seems like he does whatever he wants without rhyme or reason, but I think he just tries really hard to make it seem that way. Otherwise we’d all clue in to the fact that every single thing he does is just—him trying to get closer to us somehow. And then his cool guy cover would be blown. And god forbid that.”

Raphael brushed his thumb over the crown of Leonardo’s head, much like the way Splinter had earlier.

“He doesn’t love you for no reason, pops,” Red went on, not looking at him. “None of us do. Even when getting out of bed was the hardest thing in the world, you came running when I needed you. Every time I needed you. I learned all my moves from the best.”

Splinter had seen the worst of the world. He was no stranger to pain.

It was only occurring to him now that the opposite was also true.

His life was so full of impossibly good, underserved things; every day a little brighter, every night a little richer.

Four little creatures tumbled into his world by chance and then filled it to the brim with mayhem and color and laughter and pride, and he would not take a second of it back. He would not change a single painful part.

If only he had known as a young man where he would end up someday. It would have made those earlier years so much easier to survive.

Pretending his own eyes weren’t wet, Splinter said, “It will be hell on earth in the morning when Orange discovers we let him sleep through Blue waking up. You had better rest while you can.”

Smiling to himself, Red folded his arms on the side of the bed and rested his head in them, tilted so that his brother was within line of sight of his good eye. He had capitulated to the changing of the guard without complaint, but he was still tense. Primed for danger. Anxiety no doubt at play.

But Splinter was not without his tricks. He stroked Red’s carapace between the spikes, humming an old TV theme song under his breath. He did this for upwards of an hour once, back when Red was still small enough to be held in his lap, fussy and clingy after a bad dream.

Sure enough, with a great, shuddering sigh, Raphael’s shoulders went slack, and his breathing evened out—asleep within moments after the day he’d had.

“I’ve still got it,” Splinter murmured, and let himself have the win, as small as it was. If nothing else, he could give his children a safe place to rest.

And that really was no small thing at all.

#rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #lou jitsu #hamato yoshi #hamato leonardo #hamato raphael #hamato donatello #hamato michelangelo #april oneil #casey jones #casey jr #ratdad #my writing #tmnt fic #a team

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georgiapeach30513 · 3 months ago

Text

The Shadow of You

Summary: Underground fighting was no joke. It was brutal. It was bloody. There were no rules. You should have listened. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You stood out in the crowd. And he wasn’t ever going to remove his eyes off you again. He was going to find you. And he was going to keep you.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, objectification, stalking/yandere, obsession, dubcon/noncon elements, fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex, teasing, edging, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3K

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Moodboard Event

You have been warned. The moment you became an adult, you were told not to venture into your father’s business. He didn’t want you around the underground world. Forbade you to ever step foot into the sleazy club. The seedy underbelly of the city where everyone goes to make bets on their favorite fighter, and God only knows what else goes on there.

But he’s gone. Your brother is in charge of the club, and you’re not a child anymore. You’re a grown ass woman. You’d done the college life. Lived out of town. Fell in and out of love. Been very successful. So what if you want to come home and just see exactly what the family business is about.

You peek through your friend’s bathroom as she layers on more black eyeshadow, followed by another coat of mascara before falling back on her bed. “You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb,” she warns. “You sure you don’t want to borrow an outfit from me?”

“Nope,” you hate wearing other people’s clothes. You’re dressed, and you look fine. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“One, you’re wearing a dress. This isn’t the place,” what a stupid thing to say. Every place is a place to wear a dress. It’s too fucking hot to wear pants.

“What, is some big bad wolf going to try and sneak a peek?”

“Probably,” she shrugs, and adds on a thick layer of red lipstick. Nonchalantly ignoring the fact that there was in fact a big bad wolf. Man. Men. They’re all the same.

“That’s…”

“Yeah, I know,” she grunts, walking out of the bathroom. “We’re all aware that it’s illegal. I’m well aware that you should be able to wear what you want, and it shouldn’t matter. But you should also know that tonight could get very rowdy. People are jumping, screaming, drinking, and one wrong move and then there’s a fight breaking out in the crowd. This isn’t the place for the faint of heart.”

“Why do you go?”

“Because the top fighter is hot as fuck, and I would very much like him to notice me. They call him The Winter Soldier,” odd name. “He's a former Sargent. He’s also got a metal arm. And completely fuckable.”

“Sounds unfair,” metal arm versus an arm of flesh and bone. Not exactly a fair fight.

“Yeah, well, he rarely uses that arm. He’s just that good to kick someone’s ass with one arm,” fascinating. “You ready, Petal,” you roll your eyes, and jump up from her bed. “Your brother is going to kill me when he sees you.”

“He won’t see me.”

“Dressed like that he will,” oh pish posh. You’re dressed fine. You’re comfortable, you feel good, and you feel pretty. and you don’t foresee yourself enjoying this outing anyways. You just have to get out of the house.

——

“Woah,” you silently say as the champion walks into the octagon. He beats his fists together. Amping up himself and the crowd while simultaneously intimidating his opponent. You cannot take your eyes off him. He’s beautiful. Dirty and dingy, but beautiful.

“I know, right?” Casey screams beside you, and she starts jumping up and down with a wad of cash in her hands. “That’s the one they call The Winter Soldier,” he is every bit of a giant muscular god. His muscles seemed to have been chiseled perfectly from steel. You don’t know where he came from, but you’d like a closer inspection.

“He’s literally the only reason I come here. It’s disgusting and filthy, but that man is worth it. He won’t fully lock in on the crowd until after the match. Jason said that he’s fully in game mode beforehand,” if Jason knew him maybe he could get you closer to him. Your brother could be good for something. And that something is to get close enough to this man to touch him.

The man, built like a brick shit house, turns towards the crowd, and slowly starts to spin in the octagon. Pumping his arms and getting everyone roaring with screams. Pointing at your section he turns away, but does a double take. Shifting to where his body is pointing straight at you. His icy blue eyes lock on yours, and you can’t look away. You’re frozen in place staring at him, staring at you.

“Holy shit,” Casey says, gaping her mouth open at you, and she glances down at your body. “Of course. The fucking floral print. Dirty men like that love a good girl. And you stand out.”

“Is he looking at me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s definitely looking and ogling you. Bitch,” it’s all in good fun. Casey is always calling you a bitch or a slut. But you still can’t turn away as the whispers get louder in the room. The crowd turns towards you, and looks back at the fighter. You’re in deep shit.

And then the unthinkable happens. That man points at you. His mouth turns up into a cheeky little grin as he does so, “What just happened?”

“I believe that Bucky Barnes just claimed you,” no. Definitely that is not what happened. “He is letting everyone in here know that he’s going to fuck your brains out tonight. Just so you know, the man never does this shit. You’re in girl. Enjoy my dream of being fucked stupid by the most beautiful man on the planet.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You do if it’s from him,” did you? Did you really want to be just his girl for the evening? No. That wasn’t you at all. And suddenly the prospect of what could happen drowns you. Keeps you from breathing or seeing anything in front of you.

“He probably does this every weekend?” You ask, still unable to look away from him.

“No. The man never pays attention to the crowd. And he is locked in on you. Still. You better not distract him into losing. My god! This isn’t fair. This was my fantasy, you lucky bitch.”

“Casey, what do I do?” You’ve got to get out of her, and to safety. That man seems dangerous. He seems as if he’s already planning your future with him. Keeping you barefoot and pregnant, and calling you his. His old lady. His property. His obsession.

“Let him take care of that for you,” issuing you a quick wink The Winter Soldier turns back to his opponent. You have a moment to not be suffocated by his stare.

“I’m being serious,” you finally look at her. The sounds of the fight were enough. You didn’t need to see this man get beat up. “What do I do?”

“You don’t have a choice, babe,” the hell you didn’t. You didn’t have to do shit.

“What does that mean?”

“Go ahead. Leave, and see what happens,” her smile is nearly sinister as she looks at you.

“What are you playing at, Case?”

“Oh, honey, you were told never to come here. Those men get whoever they want. You’re just the lucky slut that he finally chose. You can run,” your skin crawls with a weird sense of foreboding. You’re unsure what she means, or why she’s acting so fucking creepy. “Go on, sweetheart. Be daddy’s little girl, and leave. See how far you get.”

“You’re creeping me out,” you cringe, backing away from your friend. What the fuck is going on?

“Aww, princess, aren’t you just the sweetest? Take it as a compliment, you were chosen the first night by him. Do you realize how many other men it could have been? And they’re not nice.”

“What kind of club is this?”

“Daddy and Jason seriously keep you in the dark, don't they?” She throws her head back laughing, and you start to walk away from her. You didn’t like it. Didn’t like her behavior, or her hidden meanings in her words. “Oh, this will be so fun for you.”

She yanks you closer to her by grabbing your bag. “Run, little flower. I hear he likes the chase.”

Not wanting to waste another second, you bolt. Fucking weirdos, the lot of them. Psychos. You weren’t property that can be claimed. You’ll run as fast as you can and as far away as you can. This was a mistake coming here. It was a mistake thinking that your father, who everyone in this city feared, was running anything but a legitimate fighting club. You’d let Jason do whatever it is he needed to do, but you’re getting the hell out of here.

——

Leaning over your sink, you splash water onto your face. It’s been a hell of a past few weeks. So much weird shit. And you can’t stop feeling paranoid. Casey sounded utterly insane the last you heard from her. You can’t even dwell on that night, or his eyes. Eyes that could bore holes into your body.

He didn’t even know you, and he had this weird pull to you, but he also pulled on you. The man was insanely gorgeous. But you weren’t into the weird cult like behavior they were doing. What were they doing?

Standing back up straight, you close the dinky mirror of the medicine cabinet, and nearly leap out of your skin.

“Did you miss me?” He asks, tilting his head to the side like a puppy dog. “You ran?” His hand rubs against the back of your neck, and you flinch forward, and spin around to look at him head on.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Coming to find you,” he answers, and looks at you like this is the most obvious answer. You ran from him, so he came to find you. Like a fucked up hide and seek.

“Why?” You ask, pushing on his chest to push him further away. He’s solid and moves nowhere. “I didn’t ask for you.”

“But you’re mine.”

“Ha!” You reach towards your phone, but he’s faster, and grabs it himself. So fast you didn’t even see the movement. “Give me my phone back.”

“Why, so you can call the police? What are they going to do? You’re mine. There’s nothing they can do.”

“Go back to the basement of the club, and fight to your death,” he feigns hurt. How dare you ever say he should die. The only way he’s dying is with you in his arms, and joining him in the after life.

“They’re always the one that dies,” he responds matter of factly. “Why did you run?”

“Because you creeped me out.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t own me.”

“Yes, I do,” insufferable bastard. Oddly he didn’t seem to want to hurt you. No, he just wanted to own you. To make you submissive to him. “What do you have against me?”

“I don’t know you,” he tilts his head to the side again. He’s a curious man. His cold metal hand starts to coast down the curve of your side.

“But I know you,” sliding his hand over your belly, he adds pressure, and pushes you into his front, and sniffs up your neck. “I know that you drink your coffee with two creams and two sugars. I know that you have too many alarms to wake you up. I know your route to work.”

“You’re stalking?” Of course the creepy hot man was following you. It makes sense. You’ve felt like you’ve been watched since you fled.

“No. Observing,” you try to move from his embrace, but he presses against your stomach harder. “I know your favorite flowers are dahlias, and you buy yourself a bundle every week. Did you not notice me putting more into the bouquet? You did. I saw you looking at them. Noting how you didn’t have pink dahlias in that one,” he isn’t lying. You did notice it. But honestly you didn't think too much about it. It didn’t matter anyways. He’s here now. Here to ruin your life.

“You knew I had been here. You smelled me,” another comment that isn’t a lie. His cologne is intoxicating. “You saw me sneaking away from you,” so it was him. “You weren’t afraid, just like you aren’t now. You saw me that night, you knew who you belonged to.”

“You’re wrong about me,” you bulk up. Wiggling around, but it only seems to arch your back, and push your ass more into his crotch, and throbbing cock. “You know nothing.”

“You think that I didn’t watch you fuck yourself?” Your eyes go wide before you look into the sink with fiery cheeks. That was private time. “I saw how frustrated you got laying on your back, so you straddled a pillow. Still it wasn’t enough, huh? Because you belong with me. Nothing will ever feel like me. I can prove it.”

“How?” Taunting him. He leans you forward over the vanity, but lifts your head up by your hair. While his flesh hand holds you in place, forcing you to watch yourself. His metal hand roams below your ass, and it scoops below your oversized shirt, and pulls it over your ass. Your eyes cinch close in embarrassment. You have nothing else on now.

Bucky uses his booted foot to scoot your legs further apart before his metal hand dips below your ass cheeks, and burrows into your warmth. His fingers root around, while he smiles at your reflection. Entering two fingers into your weeping cunt, he slowly starts pumping them in and out. Your body gave absolutely no resistance with just how uncomfortably wet you were.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” You shake your head no, keeping your eyes closed at the absurdity of this position you’ve found yourself in. But also, his deft fingers feel amazing. “Your sloppy little cunt is leaking.”

“You’re fingering me,” that is just your body reacting to stimulation. Not him and his cool metal fingers. Or his wide body caging you in. Not that sensual smell coming off his body. No.

“Oh, she was leaking before I did this. How do you think my cock will feel?” Better. So much better than his fingers. “Shall we see?”

“Yes,” your voice is barely audible, but you’re too far gone to put up the fake fight anymore. You want him. Well, you want him to pleasure you. Not own you. Or do you?

“Good girl. I really hate brats. Almost as much as I hate liars. You’ll be punished for such,” Bucky releases your hair, and uses his free hand to undo his jeans, and lets them pool to the floor below you. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Myself.”

“Wrong answer,” he growls. His fingers are quickly removed from your pussy, and replaced too fast with his thick, veiny, aching cock, and you preen at the motion of him shoving his member into your body. Into your soul. Arching your back, your mouth goes limp. “Tell me.”

“Fuck you!”

“I will once you say who you belong to.”

“Never,” Bucky is too into this moment. He’d waited on this for weeks. Months. He needed to show you exactly who you belonged to. His stabs into you are rough. Forceful as he ruts into you. Hips slapping on your backside, and his metal arm goes to your front. Circling around your neck, he adds the tiniest pressure.

Your body is making too much noise on its own accord. Vulgar. Squelching. Moaning. Whimpering. Speaking in tongues. How did this man do this? You didn’t know him, and yet he commands your body with such ease. When most men are just trying to make themselves come, Bucky is making you boneless. Whatever the fuck he’s doing to you has made you unaware of life itself. You know nothing but pleasure.

So much pleasure.

Such deep blinding pleasure. Leaning over you, he gives your shoulder a little nibble while grunting onto your skin. Snapping his hips into you so hard that you swear you're going to break the sink that you cling to. Anything to keep you in this time. In this moment. Feeling him.

“You can’t run from me, Petal. I’ll always find you,” you didn’t run from him. You ran from yourself. From the life that came with him. Whatever fucked up thing that your family has cooked up, you want no part of it. But you do want him. No. You want freedom. As long as he comes with it.

“I’ll always have you,” he gives your neck a little squeeze. Not enough to cut the air from getting to your lungs, but enough to have your brain soaring into a high. Up in the clouds where you don’t want to come down. You would make yourself go stupid up here.

“I’ve always had you. Just admit it.”

“I — can’t.”

“Then I won’t let you come,” he stills his movements, and mockingly laughs at your reflection. “Go on, say it. You’re so pretty looking pitiful and filled with me.”

“Don’t stop!” You practically beg. You need him to finish the job. This is a cruel sort of torture.

“Then say it,” shaking your head no, Bucky pulls himself out of your warmth. Using his left hand to hold you down over the sink, his right hand grips his cock, and he pumps himself over and over again. You grip onto the edge of the sink. Trying to turn your head to watch him. Begging with no words for him to push back into you, but he doesn’t stop stroking himself.

“You’re going to be miserable, until you say it.”

“James!”

“You have been asking about me, huh?” You refuse to entertain him. You just want to feel him. “You’re not fooling — ugh — anybody,” you whimper as warm ropes of his cum coat your back.

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re a liar. I’ll be seeing you. If you run again, I’ll find you. And if you refuse to admit it, I refuse to let you come. Enjoy the edging, princess,” and with that he turns to walk away. Weak and unable to find your footing, you watch him in the mirror. Wobbling on your legs as you try to stand up straight. Knowing next time he won’t find you so easily. And you can orgasm without him.

“Nothing will ever feel like me!” The door slams, and you lift up to look at yourself in the mirror. You’re just as sick as he is. You’re also just as stubborn. You’ll never admit it. No matter how many times he tries.

Never.

His shadow can search and haunt you, but you’ll never admit defeat…

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @rnurse-kole @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @harrysthiccthighss @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

@distractingbeth @musingsfromthemitten

#the shadow of you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfics #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #marvel

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sugarpasteltmnt · 1 year ago

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Chapter 25: W̹͇͈̒͒͑̒͜I͗͐̓̑N̨͉̮̄̅̊Ņ̜̫̟̺̘͐͊̑Ę̣͇̳R

Hey Casey, can I borrow your hockey stick for a sec?

[Read it here on AO3]

#there's another Treat waiting in this one for you guys 🩵#hehe have fun #gunna get dinner with friends see u later ✌️#The Neon Void #The Neon Void TMNT #TNV TMNT #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic update #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #ROTTMNT #the neon void chapter update #save ROTTMNT

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madlovenovelist · 1 year ago

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#bookquotes

That moment when you, and all your friends, realise the guy you’ve fallen for had been playing you…

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#amreading #book #book quotes #Borrow My Heart #Casey Carlisle #contemporary #Fiction #Kasie West #Novel #reading #romance #Writing #YA Fiction

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slt4kavanagh · 1 month ago

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Sorry but can you write a fic about Katie having a close friendship with the boys and girls especially Joey and Aofie who are protective of her , cs yk how in the actual book series it isn't shown much and I just need a fic about them, I've read a few of your fics and they're AMAZING but I've only seen fics of the boys so if you don't write about the girl characters, its okay

wholesome headcanons

pairing: katie wilmot x bot characters

tw: none

a/n: i love women and i love katie. (been a week since i last posted mb guys i’ve had finals and winter sickness finally hit and if it seems like i had no direction in this it’s cause i loved the idea but i had no idea how to word it so i did headcanons instead)

masterlist !

ᯓ★ joey and katie have this easy, sibling-like dynamic. he teases the hell out of her, calls her “kitty kat” in the most obnoxious tone possible, but the second someone else tries it? nah. it’s on sight. only he gets to wind her up like that.

ᯓ★ aoife is her day-one. the kind of best friend who knows katie’s moods just by how she walks into a room. she’s loud and blunt and drags katie into life when she’s too quiet, but never pushes too far. they share snacks, clothes, eye rolls across classrooms. a proper girlhood kind of love.

ᯓ★ joey once saw a lad trying to flirt with katie in the smoking area and without even thinking twice, pulled her into a hug and said “sorry mate, she’s taken — by my patience.” she nearly died laughing, but appreciated the rescue.

ᯓ★ hughie’s mates — specifically johnny, gibsie, and feely — don’t treat katie like a mascot. they treat her like one of them. johnny always offers her his jacket if they’re walking home late, and gibsie insists she sit in the middle seat during group lifts so she doesn’t get squashed.

ᯓ★ aoife and katie have matching bracelets they made one afternoon in a haze of nostalgia. aoife wears hers religiously. katie pretends not to be sentimental about it but would full-on cry if she lost it.

ᯓ★ joey and katie have this unspoken rule where if either of them texts “pub?” the other shows up, no questions asked. even if they just sit in silence or rant for hours, it’s always safe between them.

ᯓ★ during a particularly shit week for katie, the group surprised her with a night in — aoife brought sweets, joey brought dvds, johnny brought a borrowed blanket from his mam’s house. they didn’t say anything dramatic, just sat around her until she felt okay again.

ᯓ★ aoife once decked a girl at a party for talking bad about katie behind her back. no hesitation. katie didn’t even know until days later when she overheard someone whisper, “don’t fuck with red, she’s got that molloy girl in her corner.”

ᯓ★ katie’s the quiet heart of the group. the one who remembers birthdays, notices when someone’s off, and checks in later with a simple “you alright?” that somehow always hits harder than a whole lecture.

ᯓ★ when katie finally starts standing up for herself more — speaking louder, laughing bigger — joey gets weirdly emotional about it. “look at you,” he teases, voice soft. “fuckin’ powerhouse.”

ᯓ★ aoife is always the first to clock when something’s off with katie, especially when it comes to hughie. she doesn’t pry, but she’ll wordlessly drag her out of the house and feed her curly fries until katie feels like herself again.

ᯓ★ casey is the one who actually listens to katie. like listens. when she says something about feeling small or invisible, casey’s the one who cuts through the noise and reminds her she’s the backbone of their whole group. no katie? no glue.

ᯓ★ katie and podge have a surprisingly gentle friendship. he’s a goof around most people, but with her, he’s calm, a bit older-brotherish. always carries extra tissues in case her anxiety gets bad. never mentions it, just quietly hands them over.

ᯓ★ joey has threatened hughie exactly three times. once with a stare, once with a warning, and once with a flat-out “if you fuck this up, i swear to god.” katie doesn’t know about the last one. hughie never mentioned it.

ᯓ★ deep down, alec’s got a soft spot for katie. she helped him study once — and by helped, she just sat beside him in the library while he muttered about exams — and now he acts like she saved his life.

ᯓ★ casey once told katie, “you’re allowed to want more,” in the middle of a group hangout. it stuck with her way longer than she let on, especially during the rough patches with hughie.

ᯓ★ when katie and hughie fight, she doesn’t usually tell the others. but aoife always knows. “your texts go dead quiet,” she says. “plus hughie gets weird like he’s trying to prove he’s fine.”

ᯓ★ the girls have sleepovers at aoife’s house where they do facemasks and talk about boys and pretend everything’s chill. it’s the only time katie lets herself admit how much she overthinks things — how hard it is to feel like “enough” for someone.

ᯓ★ joey always offers his shoulder when katie needs it. even when she doesn’t ask. even if she’s dating someone else. “you don’t owe anyone sunshine, katie,” he tells her once. “but you deserve to keep some for yourself.”

ᯓ★ podge once tried to set katie up with someone after a rough patch with hughie. it didn’t go anywhere, but it made her laugh — and she really needed that laugh.

ᯓ★ the boys have a code between them — if katie’s upset, they don’t make fun of her. they switch into big-brother mode without a word, and suddenly everyone’s quieter, gentler, less annoying. it’s automatic.

ᯓ★ aoife’s fiercely protective of katie’s softness. she’s the one who says, “you’re not weak for loving him — you’re strong for not letting it turn you cold.”

ᯓ★ hughie’s never had to be loud about love — he just does. when katie’s at his house, her tea is always exactly how she likes it. her playlist’s already on. her favorite crisps are in the drawer. he’s not showy; he just notices.

ᯓ★ he doesn’t say much in groups — especially not around the bcs kids — but katie never feels like an outsider when she’s with him. he always sits close, always leans in when she talks. like the rest of the room fades out a little.

ᯓ★ he’s so good to her without even realising how deeply it lands. if she skips lunch, he splits his sandwich in half without comment. if she’s quiet, he doesn’t ask why — he just reaches over and laces their fingers.

ᯓ★ he’s the kind of boyfriend who’ll hand her a hoodie before she asks. who’ll open his bag and have a cereal bar she likes without mentioning he packed it on purpose. who walks her to class without even thinking about it.

ᯓ★ katie’s never talked about her relationship with food, not out loud. but hughie’s clocked it. and he never pushes — just quietly makes sure there’s always a plate for her, always makes eating feel normal, never a big deal. just “here, eat this.”

ᯓ★ he never makes her feel like she has to perform for him. no makeup? hair messy? pale as paper? he still looks at her like she’s the calmest part of his world. because she is.

ᯓ★ he does love her. he does. he just doesn’t love her the way he loves lizzie. and maybe that’s what messes him up most — because he wants to. he wants to be enough for katie the way she’s enough for him.

ᯓ★ sometimes, after a day with lizzie, he comes back quieter. more distant. but he always holds katie’s hand like he’s sorry, even if he doesn’t know what for.

ᯓ★ he tells her she’s beautiful more through action than words. wipes smudges from her cheeks. tucks her hair behind her ears. zips up her coat when she forgets.

ᯓ★ when she has bad days — the ones where she doesn’t want to be seen — he doesn’t force her out of them. he just holds her hand under the table, gives her space to breathe, lets her come back in her own time.

ᯓ★ lizzie is the storm in his life — sharp, electric, all-consuming. katie is the softness he doesn’t think he deserves. and maybe that’s the problem: he doesn’t think he’s worthy of the good things, so he keeps breaking them.

ᯓ★ his mates at tommen don’t really get how much he cares about katie. because he’s quiet about it. because it’s not the kind of love that shouts — it’s the kind that waits. the kind that hopes.

ᯓ★ but even if he’s in love with someone else, when katie smiles at him like he’s the only boy in the room, he feels it in his ribs. it aches. it aches.

ᯓ★ he never says “i love you” first. but when she says it, he always kisses her knuckles after. it’s the only way he knows how to say it back without lying.

#boys of tommen #katie wilmot #feeling 12 #trusting 12 #chloe walsh #slt4kavanagh

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witchygagirlwrites · 6 months ago

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Jay Halstead x Reader

You've both been through hell in your own way. You were willing to do anything to help Jay, you believed in him no matter what but one woman could only take so much before you had to walk away.

Jay opened his closet, stepping inside and pulling the chain. Will wanted to borrow one of his jackets but finding it was the issue. He checked a couple shelves and came up empty then reached for the corner of the back shelf where he remembered seeing it last, when he tugged on a bag a red box fell to the floor and photos spilled out. “Dammit” he cursed, he didn’t have time to clean up a mess he was supposed to be meeting Will and the rest of the unit at Molly’s in twenty minutes.

He squatted down with intentions to just scoop the photos over into the corner and deal with them later but the face staring back at him stopped him dead in his tracks. Your smiling face littered the floor, some with him, some with members of the unit, others with the crew from fifty one. He hadn’t realized he’d lost his balance until he hit the floor. He picked up the first one in the pile, you were sitting in his lap with your arms around his neck. You weren’t even looking at the camera, you were looking at him. You always looked at him like that, like he was something worth seeing.

He blinked hard as he reached for the next photo, it was you laughing at one of the community fundraisers as you and Stella dunked Kelly in the water booth. He could practically hear your laughter just from looking at the photo. The next one was from Christmas, you and him were sitting in front of the tree at Will’s. You were sitting back against him, wearing those damn rudolph pjs you adored. He remembered because he’d bought you that necklace you’d wanted and you’d cried. He’d never had anyone cry from a present he gave them.

The next one was one you must have taken, it was one of him. He was asleep. You had an entire album on your phone at one time of photos just like it. He’d never realized you’d printed any.

Photo after photo he went through the memories that had somehow gotten tucked away in the corner of that room for the last two years. Every one hitting him harder than the next.

He’d known you for years before the two of you had ever started dating. You were a fixture of fifty one, one of the calming factors when tensions were high between Voight and Casey. Every time anything happened they turned to you. You were smart, brave and fucking beautiful.

You busted your back alongside the men on your truck, proving yourself time and again. You and him had somehow managed to become friends before he ever joined intelligence. You always managed to keep him in check, whether if he got in his head too far or if his temper got the best of him. You were always the cure for it. When he made intelligence he’d taken you out to dinner and you’d smiled and told him how proud you were of him.

When he and Erin started getting closer you backed off your friendship with the excuse of “A new relationship doesn’t need the boyfriend hanging out with his female best friend. I’m just a phone call away Halstead” He fell for her but even then you were the one she called when she couldn’t get through with him. You were the person who never doubted him, never blinked an eye at anything to back him up. When he’d gotten kidnapped she hadn’t come to take care of him after the fact, you had.

He never saw what was in front of him until she left. One day both of you were working a scene and he saw you coming out of a building, laughing with one of the firemen from another house and knew. You were the one for him, you’d always been.

Looking back he should’ve never sought you out. He probably would still have a piece of you if he hadn’t. You were an angel when you were with him, patient, understanding and loved him with everything you had. He tried to be the man you needed but no matter how hard he tried he kept screwing up. He kissed another woman on an undercover op. It was just a kiss, nothing more but it wasn’t needed to keep the cover. She’d kissed him first and instead of stopping it he kissed her back.

The worst part was he hadn’t even gotten to tell you, you just happened to stop by the precinct when Voight was chewing him out about it. He could still see the tears in your eyes when you told him “I see why Erin left you” he’d come home that night for the second time in his life to the woman he loved having emptied her belongings out of a shared apartment but this one hurt so much worse because while he loved Erin you were the only one who had owned his heart fully, the one who was there for him through thick and thin. The ugly and the pretty.

“Did you get lost Jay?” Will asked when he walked into the door of Mollys. He forced a smile “No man, I um made a mess looking for that jacket” Will knew his brother well enough to know when something was wrong. “What happened?”

“Just found some pictures she didn’t take with her..I fucked up so bad..it’s been two years Will..two years and it hurts like it was yesterday..I’d go back a thousand times over and change that if I could..I don’t even know why I did that..maybe I wanted her to leave me? Maybe I knew I didn’t deserve her..knew I’d never be good enough for her and wanted her to leave me before she fucked up her life by staying with me?”

“Why don’t you just apologize to her and ask for a new start?” he heard your voice from behind him and thought for a moment he was imagining things until Will grinned “She called me because she wanted to see you”

He turned around and there you stood, looking just like you did the day you walked out, minus the tears. “I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart baby. I don’t know why I didn’t shove her away or-or stop her but you are everything, you always have been and always will be” you smiled slightly and shrugged one shoulder “Buy me a beer and let's talk?” he nodded “Of course” and held his hand out and when you put yours in it for the first time in two years his heart didn’t feel like it was crumbling in his chest.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead angst #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic

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youmakemefeelbetter · 11 months ago

Text

His Bunny

Billy Loomis x fem!reader

Warnings: Grinding, almost oral, unprotected sex, subtle sub/dom dynamics on both ends (yes, a little bit of submissive Billy),

I’m not really ever comfortable writing smut, but I had to get this out and this collab is the perfect opportunity.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” is the question I’m asked

“Whichever one has you in it, Honey.” I say with a smile

Within a few seconds, the voice from my phone steps out from my closet for me to see one Billy Loomis with his crazed smile.

“That’s my girl.” he says scruffily

He extends his left arm out toward me, his left hand coming to grip my chin in a loose grasp.

“I’d be in all your movies, Bunny. Any kind, any time.” he adds smoothly

I lift myself up on my toes, bringing my arms around his neck and shoulders. Looking at him, I can’t help but lean in to give him a kiss. It becomes many pecks [and slathered kisses] until I’m having to pull myself away.

“Even the rated ones?” I tease

“All the rated ones. They’ll have to form a new genre just for us.”

“Naughty boy.”

He laughs joyously with a sparkle in his eyes at the way I stare up at him, the way I always have which is a mix of admiration and and being mesmerized.

“You act as if we’ve been involved, Billy.” I tell him softly

Though, his grip around my middle and the way his fingers tease my sides make me wish we had been.

“Trust me, I would remember you above any others if we were, Bunny. I just get my hopes up in seeing if you’ll let me in.” he expresses

“You’re in, Lumie. You just gotta wait to go any farther.”

“I’ll take you over Prescott any day.”

“You’re not just sayin that?” I ask carefully

“I wouldn’t wait like this for anybody else. And as we’ve done a few things..they’re things I wouldn’t do for her; not even with her.”

“What else?”

“She doesn’t let me put my hands on her, even just to rest my hand on her leg or my legs over her though if we’re sitting next to each other.” he adds

I tilt my head down in attempt to hide the way my face is reddening due to my thoughts.

“What?” he asks while he tries tilting my head back up to look at him with his finger

“It’s just that..I don’t blame her for being so unsure and uncertain especially due to what happened to her mom-only so long ago, to add. But I always want your hands on me.”

“I love that about you. And I love having my hands on you, plus I think you like having your hands on me too.”

“I do..” I add quietly

“I hope to hear you say that at the altar someday.”

“Really?”

“I’d hate myself if I lied to you, pretty girl.” he states and nods

I gasp and jump to hug him, taking into account the texture of his sweater-type shirt that I love so much. It reminds me of the sweater I borrowed from Casey last winter (luckily, I remembered to give it back recently).

“You gonna let me in tonight, Bunny?” he asks and gestures to my room

“You already came through the window.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m invited in.”

I can’t hold myself back, so I place pecks all over his lips, chin, and neck. He releases a grumble that shakes my insides, especially when he pulls my hips to meet his.

I smash my lips to his, causing myself to fall dizzy while he smiles and reciprocates. He leads me to my bed, his right hand pressed to my spine and ribcage while his left hand is grasping my hip so I won’t fall.

When we get onto my bed, he’s on top of me while I’m just panting and kissing him the best I can keep myself up with. We pull away long enough for me to point to my wall for him to sit up against it, leaning his back into it. I crawl over his legs and straddle his hips, putting my hands on his shoulders while his hands naturally fall to my hips.

I slowly sit myself down on top of his jean-coated legs and rub around with my hips, Billy intently watching where our clothes meet in the midst of our hormonal mess. His large hands keep a tight grip on my hips, helping me to press a pressure against his lap while I dig the base of my pelvis against the front of his.

His mouth is gaping open since his head is tipped back and my head is tipped back, though I’m smiling instead. His hands are easily grinding me to him, but my arms are thrown into the air like I’m riding a rollercoaster instead of my boyfriend.

I finally place my hands on his shoulders again, bouncing myself up and down on his lap for his gaping mouth to open wider.

“I wan-I wanna.” I whisper with a gasp

“You wanna what, Bunny?”

“I wanna f*ck you. I wanna f*ck you so bad.”

“Please do.” he eases in the same tone

He presses his hand to my tailbone once again, using it to pull my pelvis towards his chest until my chin is inches above his head. I smooth my hand over his head, slicking back his already sleek hair until he tilts his head back to look to at me. I lower myself so our lips out on each other’s, locking the way they were meant to.

After not enough seconds of it, he pulls his face from mine to stare my eyes down to death.

“What are we gonna do, Pretty Girl?” he asks with a gulp from practically panting into my mouth

“What do you wanna do?”

“This is about you. But I wanna worship you. I want to possess every millimeter of your body with my lips, with my mouth entirely.”

“You mean it?” I check

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Animals of prey don’t usually praise their prey.”

“Most prey don’t deserve to be appraised, they’re only worth the chase.” he mentions

“Am I worth it?”

“You’re worth it all, Babydoll. The chase-but most importantly, the catch.”

This has me smiling, queuing him to cup my jaw in his hand with his thumb and middle finger into the ridges of my cheeks above my jaw. His eyes boring into mine the way we did before I introduced myself to him last year.

“I know I belong to you.., but you don’t belong to me, do you?” I realize aloud

“I’m yours. I’m yours to nurture and kiss, I’m yours to toy with and break. I’m yours to play with and enjoy. I’m yours to spend your time with and absorb.”

From his words, I lean against him with my entirety. I pull my arms around his neck and lean my head on his left shoulder, tipping my head to his to meet his lips. I give my all in energy to this kiss, leaning into him and loving into him the way I always want and he always lets me.

My chin nudges his while out tongues delve into the other’s mouth, exploring the walls of a part of us that strengthens the other so. I fall so into it, I could fall asleep this way; I feel I could belong right in this spot. Before I can lose myself entirely to this, he lazily pulls my jaw from his to where his eyes seep into my own.

“Where’d you learn to kiss like that, Pretty Girl?” he asks me

“I just gave into what felt right. Did all I wanted.”

“If you do that every time, I won’t ever be able to leave your bed.”

“Then don’t.” I challenge

He chuckles knowingly, that infamous smirk on his lips.

“I won’t. Not yet.” he assures

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” I tell him and smile tiredly

“Why? You got somethin planned?”

“Nothing specific, just a few [find a word].”

“And what does that entail?” he wonders

I roll my body on his, worming it to a soft grind against his torso. I move my left hand from behind his neck to go under his shirt, dragging my fingertips up his bare stomach and chest-a place I always want to be.

“Feels like you have something specific in mind.” he hints while dragging a gentle hand up my forearm, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin there

“Nothing specific, I promise.”

“Then what?”

“Just a few intentions is all.” I admit

His abdomen tightens as my hands rub over it, finding a sense of arousal in myself being led on by the contact somehow. I swipe my thumb over his belly too, so carried away in how beautiful he was created to be that I lay kisses to some of the skin there.

His head falls back, his left hand swiping over the back of my head gently. I feel urged on to continue, so I place slow and sensual kisses to each part of his abdomen (even his hips and sides) until I’m slinking down to his waist. I dart my eyes in his direction, my fingers on the brink of grasping his waistband.

“Uh uh.” he says connivingly while shaking his head

I lean my head down and kiss just above the waistband of his pants, using my hand’s placement on it to pull them down just enough to place my lips a little lower. He lets out a heavy exhale, one that pulls a smile from me. I (very) slowly place deep kisses to each area of his waist/pant line to where I feel his legs shiver under me.

“What? I can’t be the tease?” I ask when it comes to moving his underwear out the way

“You’re always the tease.”

I tug the line of his underwear down, softening the pressure of my lips on his skin the more sensitive the area is. His hips buck up a few times, but I put my arms on his legs to hold them down while I just sit and appreciate his outsides.

“Y/n..” he warns when my chin grazes his pubic hair

I tug his underwear down til they’re being held on just by his butt and growing length. I lean back down and continue placing kisses down the curve of his hip and thigh, tracing his v-line with my lips, one side at a time. His thighs tremble and twitch while I enjoy taking my time impressing myself at how I’m going about this.

I suckle at the skin carefully, gaining moans from him with such little effort. I flicker my gaze to him before bringing it down his body at a pace that could burn. He puts his left hand around the back of my head to hold it in place, grinding his bulge against the side of my face. But I smack his wrist away and pull his shorts down to his ankles at a taunting speed, freeing his tension while giving me access to the entirety of his v-line so I can suck at the thin skin of him.

When I get to the part of that area where his thigh is boring into the side of my head, I nip at the skin until he’s writhing above me. I give two gentle kisses to the inside of his thigh before I bite down harshly, but kindly on the skin near his taint. This triggers a lurch from him, throwing his body almost over my head while a heavy grown leaves his throat.

“I’m not done yet, Baby.” I murmur

He shakes his head, releasing pleas for me to stop and get him off.

I massage the insides of his thighs a little bit, moving my hands to the outer sides to loosen those up as well. After a few seconds, I nudge my nose through his pubic bush until I’ve nuzzled what eggs him on the most.

His has him skipping breaths and gasping quietly, that is until I’ve latched my lips and tongue around one of his balls. His falls silent once I fall into the mesmerizing depths of ball-sucking, only using my tongue and lips to cause any affect I can.

I lick one stripe of saliva up the sides of his shaft before going right back down to the base of it, attaching myself to his testes for as long as my breath can take it. I lick between them and under them, around them and beside them until I hear grunting and a stream of hot sperm shoots over my head (some of it landing in my hair) and on my feet since I’m kneeling but leaning towards him.

He pants til his breathing evens out, his face red and his stomach rising and falling at an erratic pace. When he’s pulled himself together enough, his right hand juts down to grasp my throat. He uses this grip to pull me to where he is, lying spread out for me to play with.

“What? You didn’t like it?” I struggle to get out

“That’s not the point. The point is that since you wanna play, I’m gonna ruin your perfect little pussy until you feel the way I just did. Alright? You’ve got your safe word, so I’m just gonna do my thing because you wanna play so bad.”

The menacing look in his eyes almost means nothing until he’s tearing my panties off my excited body. This motion helps get my legs over his thighs, setting my knees near his hips which allows him to rub his shaft against the lips of my entrance before his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Are you really not that wet from toying with me, Pretty Girl? What’s it take to please you, huh? What’s it take to impress you?” he challenges tauntingly

He does this while rubbing four fingers on my entrance, inserting two then three until I’m balanced on his hand. He pushes me up and down it with his suspiciously strong forearm while his left hand is still wrapped around my throat.

Within two seconds flat, he’s shoved himself all the way in me til my clit is an inch above touching his pelvis. He thrusts me up and down with his legs, pushing his hips up and down off the bay window to where I can feel the whole of him filling me completely.

“You’re not gonna get it like this anywhere else.” he grunts while bouncing us

“Don’t want it from anyone else. Just you.”

“Bouncing like the bunny you are, look at you go. Just hope you don’t get tired.”

“Won’t get tired, love being bounced on your cock.” I manage to mutter when my thighs touch his

“Got anything else you wanna say?”

“Don’t break me, Ghostface-I wanna f*ck you in the sequel.”

#whiteboywastedcollab #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #scream 1996 #billy loomis smut

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solarwonux · 8 months ago

Text

Business Proposal || knj (11/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting,

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 4.3k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol hello hi, being an an adult and a social adult is hard. I've had this written since June, but never got the time to edit it. Until now, I hope you enjoy it.xx

Thanks to those who have stuck around it means a lot!

Prev | next

m.list | series m.list | wattpad

Present:

“I don’t get it?” Casey Han, the newly hired intern in the Writing and Rhetoric Department voices as she leans back in your office lounge chairs. Every Tuesday she comes into your office at four so you can help her review her Master Thesis on Language and Dialects in Different Regions.

She also uses this as an opportunity to fill you in on the rumors floating around the office, pry you for juicy deets about yours and Namjoons relationship, or thirst over your best friend slash soon to be brother-in-law aka Jeon Jungkook.

It used to bother you at first, but over the last two months you have grown fond of the graduate student. She has a great sense of humor, knows all the juicy gossip, and mainly buys you an iced americano every Wednesday and Friday morning.

“What don’t you get Cas?” You stand up from your desk chair, walk to the other lounge chair and sit down. By now, all thesis editing, review, or proof-reading has ended. You get off work in five minutes and you have to wait for Namjoon to finish grading his final papers. A task you finished three days ago.

“Your fiance is the hottest guy in this building and you’re always holed up in your office. If I was in your shoes I’d never keep my hands off him.” She shrugs, leaning her elbow against the arm rest and resting her chin over the palm of her hands.

You laugh, shaking your head. If things were different and you didn’t know Casey the way you did, you’d surely be suspecting her of hinting at something else. But you have nothing to worry about with Casey. Her eyes are reserved for Jungkook or Leonardo “Dilf” DiCaprio. Her words not yours.

“I mean we’re together all the time. I think keeping our space at work is just our way of staying professional and it gives us something to talk about at the end of the day.” You shrug, chucking off your heels and crossing your legs underneath you.

“You’re stronger than me.” She smiles, shaking her head. “But it's cute. One can only dream of having a relationship like yours.”

“Believe me it took a while to get here.” You brush her off. It did. After coming clean to each other, things didn’t automatically become all sunshine and rainbows. There were constant petty arguments about who takes the trash out? Who does the dishes? You vaguely remember getting annoyed with Namjoon because he couldn’t use a knife if his life depended on it. But the two of you decided that if you wanted your relationship to work, couples therapy was the best option.

So, every Monday at five the two of you see Dr. Heras. It’s helped with talking to each other, and getting to know each other's triggers and how to handle them. The two of you have household assigned chores to each other, but if the other forgets the other has to step up. Nightly recaps are a must, which makes bedtime exciting for the two of you. It’s the main reason the two of you don’t meet up throughout the day until it's time to go home. Things still aren’t perfect but they’re getting better day by day.

Casey claps her hands together, bringing you out of your bubble. Her face is bright like she just remembered something and it excites you. “When is your dress fitting?”

The brief excitement escapes you when you remember how much you’re not looking forward to it. Not because you don’t want to see your mother and Namjoon’s mother. It’s because you don’t like any of the dresses on the online catalog of Hyugas Bridal.

“Saturday.” You say, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top of them. You’ve tried everything to convince yourself to be as excited as possible. It is your wedding dress fitting after all. A moment every little girl dreams about. A moment you have always dreamed about, but you can’t shake that there’s something holding you back from feeling exciting.

No, you know exactly why you’re not looking forward to it. The reason starts with Jung and ends with Hoseok.

He’s been in the back of your mind for the past week. Since the day the mothers have made a groupchat to decide the dress fitting date. At first you thought it was because it would be the first time they would be meeting. Then you shifted your blame when you caught a glimpse of the online catalog. Then one night while Namjoon was out with the boys, you remembered the faint promise from all those years ago, and things started making sense.

No, you haven’t spoken to the well renowned designer in years. After a year communication between the two of you ran dry. You never resented him for it. You were going through things and he was building his brand from the bottom up. Your problems were only going to make him worry and that was the last thing you wanted. But he’s been living in your head rent free. You keep going back and forth.

Should I text him?

Should I just settle?

Should I text him?

It’s a constant battle. One you haven’t decided on a winner. It’s putting such a damper on a day where you’re supposed to share fond memories with your mother and soon to be mother-in-law. Yet, you just can’t shake the feeling that you know what you want already.

You're stubborn like that.

“Why don’t you sound excited?” Casey lowers her voice. Her brows furrow in concern.

As much as you love Casey and now consider her a close friend. This is something you don’t want to simply get into. So you lie, “I’m just nervous, our mothers are meeting for the first time. And both of them have strong personalities.” You sigh.

Casey laughs, “I will keep you in my prayers for the rest of the week.”

You smile, your attention getting caught on Namjoon’s ringtone. You don’t even need to check your phone to know that he’s texted you that he’s done and to meet him downstairs. So, without a minute of hesitation you slip your feet into your heels again and stand up. “Thank you, I think I will need it a lot on Saturday.”

“Please, please, please send me pictures.” Casey clasps her hands in front of her, pouting and widening her eyes. You smile fondly. Casey has been your first female friend in years. A true girl's girl. A lovely breath of fresh air from all the testosterone you’ve been constantly surrounded by since childhood.

“Of course, you’re the only one who will get pics anyway.” You round your desk and shut off your desktop, and pick up your work bag slinging it over your shoulder.

“You mean I’ve knocked down the guys and made it up your list.” She stands up, smoothing down her pleated gray skirt.

“You will always be at the top of the list Cas.” You smile, getting your phone and unlocking it to Namjoon’s short text: Done, down in 5 mins.

Followed by another one that says: Dinner?

You smile and type a quick: poke bowl plssssss.

You lock your phone and stuff it into the pocket of your gray dress pants. Casey scoffs as she opens the door to your office. “You two are gross and cute.”

You follow her out of your office, “What do you mean?” You lock your office door and lock your arms with hers.

“You get this huge smile on your face and then your eyes get all twinkly. It’s a little gross.” She bumps her hip with yours before giggling. “It’s so cute though.”

“I think you’re making shit up.” You whisper, and she stops walking the minute she reaches the front reception desk. “I’ll buy you coffee tomorrow by the way.” You wink, as she takes her seat in front of her desktop. She still has two more hours left of her shift, and the last two hours are always the slowest.

“You don’t have to but it's greatly appreciated.” She moves her mouse to wake up her monitor, and slumps in her seat sighing. “I’ll work on my revisions and email you the appointments for next week.”

“Thanks Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You rush out when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You don’t bother to check it nor stay for her to reply the second the elevator dings on your floor.

“Love ya,” Casey shouts after you, and you send her finger hearts as the elevator door closes.

“Jin wants to go out for drinks tomorrow.” Namjoon says as he enters the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. His eyes find yours through the mirror as you begin to apply your night cream.

You hum, placing the container against the counter. “You should go, the semester is almost over and you’ve been working hard.” You say, spreading the cream down your neck, cleaning your hands on a clean towel and proceeding to pick up the tube of your eye cream.

“I know but he’s inviting Tae and these days wherever Tae goes so does Jimin.” He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards you. “Things are still a little awkward between Jimin and I.” He finishes, facing you and leaning against the bathroom counter crossing his arms in front of him.

You smile, screwing the cap of your eye cream tube and placing it down. “I think you’re thinking about it too much. Jimin doesn’t hold grudges, plus we’ve talked things through already.” You pat your under eyes with your ring fingers and then turn to face him. “If it bothers you, you should talk to him too, but don’t feel pressured to do so because of me.”

He nods, uncrossing his arms and grabs your hands, reeling you in. “I definitely want to apologize to him and settle things between us before the wedding, but I don’t feel ready.”

“Then do it when you are ready Joon.” You reassure, lacing your fingers with his. “But I think you should still go, it’s been months since all of you got together to hang out.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to interject but you stop him with a roll of your eyes. “Working out together doesn’t count.”

He sighs, shaking his head, letting go of one of your hands and snaking his arm around your waist, scooting his leg between yours. “Sometimes it’s scary how you know what I’m thinking.” He whispers, placing his forehead against yours. “But I will go, I do miss them a little.” He confesses, and gives you a quick kiss on your lips before hugging you completely. “Can you tell me what’s been bothering you all week now?”

The only downside of couples therapy and learning more about each other is that neither of you can hide anything anymore. He is well aware that you’ve been up in your head more than usual.

You pull away, placing your hands on his cheeks. “Sometimes it's scary how you know that I’m thinking too much.”

He plays with the tie of your bathrobe, chuckling at your response. “Your thoughts are too loud, and you didn’t sleep last night.” He shrugs. “I was waiting for you to wake me up to talk but all you did was sigh and turn a thousand times.”

You pout, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to keep you up too.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t be. I would’ve interjected but I also know you wouldn’t have told me until your conscience was clearer.”

You nod. “I’m nervous about Saturday.”

Namjoon stops playing with the tie and hugs you again. “Don’t be, your mom is great and so is mine and I know they’ll get along fine. We might be making a mistake by introducing them to each other. I have a feeling they will be inseparable after Saturday.”

“It’s not that Joon.” You sigh, he tilts his head to the side. “I know they’ll get along, it's just that–” You stop biting your lip, trying to sort your words out as quickly as possible in your head.

As far you know, Hoseok and Namjoon haven’t spoken to each other in years. Jungkook knows why but he won’t tell you. He only says that they lost communication. But it's odd. Hoseok’s career has expanded to the point that he’s getting interviewed by Jimmy Fallon. He’s been invited to all the fashion weeks, and now has his own magazine. Your dream is to one day own one of his purses. You saw the ad for one a couple weeks ago on Instagram. You showed it to Namjoon and he had no reaction.

Which was weird because you thought Namjoon would be proud of his once best friend. He even grumbled a little when he found your box that kept all the magazine clippings from his previous interviews. It was your way of showing your support from a distance. So, whatever happened between them isn’t a normal falling out with no hard feelings.

From what you can tell there are hard feelings you just don’t know why. Nor do you want to pry, but the promise Hoseok made you all those years ago keeps echoing in your brain.

Maybe this is why you’ve been running yourself up the wall. You want to reach out but you don’t know how Namjoon would react if you told him you were. After all, Hoseok was a huge part of your life. A relationship Namjoon witnessed from start to finish.

“What is it?” He says with concern.

“I don’t want my wedding dress to come from Hyugas Bridal.” You whisper.

Namjoon nods, “That’s okay there’s so many other wedding dress shops, you can go to a new one.” He offers.

You shake your head, “I don’t want any of those dresses from any of those shops.”

Namjoon’s hands fall down to his side. “I see.” He pauses before, pushing past you and out the bathroom. His demeanor has changed so quickly you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what’s going on.

You follow him. “Joon what are you doing?” You enter your bedroom. It’s empty and you begin to wonder where exactly your fiance went until you see him walk out of the closet with a slip of line paper in his hand.

“Here,” He extends his hand. “Text him this is his new number.” He gently shoves the paper further in your direction.

“What is this? Text who?” You take the folded slip of paper and watch as he walks to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

“Hoseok, that’s who you want to design your wedding dress right?” He clasps his hands together. “He promised so it’s only right.” He adds, clenching his jaw.

Now, you’re confused. Actually, you’re beyond confusion at this point. You’re also concerned because Namjoon looks like he’s about to burst. “H-How do you know?”

Namjoon chuckles dryly, “He told me before he left.” He throws his hands up in the air. “Actually he told me a bunch of things but half of those things aren’t important. What’s important is that you want to wear one of his wedding dress designs so text him.”

You take a seat next to him. “Why does this bother you Joon?” You say softly, placing your hands on top of his, trying your best to smooth down the grip.

“Because it was supposed to be your wedding dress for your wedding with him.” He whispers, unclasping his hands and settling them on top of his pajama pants.

“Namjoon, we were never going to get married.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“But you could’ve. He’s been back in town since January. Jin has tried everything to get us to meet again but I keep turning down his invites. If we hadn’t tried to solve our issues I have no doubt he would have contacted you again.”

You smile, bringing his hands to your lap. “Namjoon, things between Hobi and I are long over. I won’t lie to you and tell you I don’t love him anymore because I do just not in the same way I loved him back then and not the same way I love you now. I don’t want to marry him, I don’t think I ever wanted to marry him in the first place. He will always love his career more than anything in this world and that’s okay. I never will hold that against him because although it hurt when we broke up and I did make bad decisions trying to fill the void I felt when he left. I grew up. We both grew up Namjoon.” You finish, bringing his hands up to your lips and kissing his palms gently.

Namjoon sighs, “He will likely join us tomorrow and what if you run into him one day and fall for his charms again.” He pouts.

“Are you jealous?” You tilt your head in amusement. He lets go of your hands and rolls his eyes.

“So what if I am. Is that a problem? He’s a much better man than me in every sense of the word.” He stands up and walks to his side of the bed before peeling back your duvet.

You turn your body in his direction, biting your bottom lip to stifle your laugh. You’ve recently learned that Namjoon loves to sulk like a child and he has no problem expressing when something petty is bothering him.

“It’s not, I think it’s cute.” You sit up on your knees, before he scoffs and lays down, his back turned to you. You move closer to him and wrap your arm around his torso before leaning your body over his so you’re face to face with him. “You’re more than enough Joon.” You kiss his temple gently.

Namjoon rolls onto his back. “Are you sure?” He snakes his arms around your waist tugging you closer. You straddle his lap, and lean down resting your forehead against his. “I wouldn’t be working this hard to make our relationship work and better if I didn’t think you were enough.”

He throws his head back in defeat. His heart is beating so fast he’s thankful you can’t feel or hear it. His jealousy simmers in dying embers. Despite some unresolved differences between him and his oldest friend, he knows Hoseok isn’t one to try to break marriage apart.

“I love you,” Namjoon says after a while. His voice is soft and full of tenderness.

I love you.”

The last time you felt this nervous was the day you had to read your master thesis out loud in class to a group of judgmental writing students. The sales assistant has been watching you pace for the past five minutes since she led you to the back of the shop.

You admit it was a long shot, texting your ex boyfriend and world renowned fashion designer after Namjoon went to sleep. Sure, what you received was a very polite and formal message. To which you concluded that it was probably his personal assistant that messaged you.

So, did Hoseok know you were the one meeting with him about commissioning a wedding dress. Or did he figure it was just a normal customer. Still, the whole process was fairly quick. You figured he had a packed schedule considering he had just returned to his hometown after being away for years. You couldn’t help but wonder how things were going to go today, which was why you were running the clock, driving the sales assistant absolutely insane.

Finally, you get tired of wearing a hole in the ground and take a seat on the white sofa, just as the sales assistant whispers into her earpiece. “Mr.Jung will be here in two minutes.” She voices out, adjusting her blouse before moving to the door.

“Thank you.” You say crossing your legs and placing your bag next to you. Quickly you decide that’s too comfortable so you uncross them and place your bag on your lap again. Fidgeting with your hands, while the door slowly opens, revealing the one and only Jung Hoseok.

You almost feel like suffocating. Your breath hitches as he strolls in wearing a black suit. His hair is slicked back, and some dark sunglasses on the tip of his nose. He oozes a wave of confidence that you have never seen before, and you begin to wonder if he even remembers you and the promise he made to you all those years ago.

After five months of being away the two of you lost contact. Three years later he unfollowed you on instagram. Well technically he unfollowed everyone on instagram and only followed one person. A beautiful model whose name was Hailey. For years, they were speculated to be dating, but nothing has ever been confirmed or denied. So, who knows. But now he was here, silent, powerful, and looking better than ever.

And you feel foolish.

“So he finally came to his senses.” Hoseok clicks his tongue and removes his sunglasses, revealing his beautiful warm eyes.

You don’t know what comes over you. Just an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and before you know it you’re hugging him tight and crying into his very expensive suit. He chuckles, running a soothing hand down your back. He smells fresh, like a cool breeze on the beach. He feels different, but similar and all the love you once held for him comes rushing back in powerful strokes of color.

For a moment you feel twenty-one again.

Finally, you pull away and look at him, taking in all the features you once knew by memory. He has a few wrinkles on the side of his eyes. But he looks sharper in all the right places and you realize that just like Namjoon he has aged like fine wine.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle, smoothing out the lapels of his suit. “I don’t know what came over me.” You chuckle awkwardly, looking around, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

He chuckles, placing his hands on top of your shoulders. “I see you’re still as emotional as ever.” He notes, running his hands down your shoulders before taking your hand in his. He leads you towards the couch and sits you down before taking the seat next to you.

“Now, tell me how have you been?” He tilts his head, intertwining your fingers with his. If you didn’t know better, you’d mistaken this for a romantic gesture. But you know better as much as you love Hoseok. The love you feel for him is different from the love you feel for Namjoon. It’s just nostalgia with Hoseok, it’s unforgettable memories that you’ve buried. It’s young love that hasn’t known experiences. It’s the chase but never settling. And you’re ready to settle down.

“I’ve been great. The fall semester starts next week so I’ve been running around like crazy, in and out of meetings. You know the usual boring work life.” You wave off, wiping your eyes with the handkerchief he's handed you. “How have you been, you look amazing.” You blurt out, widening your eyes.

He chuckles, “I’ve been better, fashion week is in a month and we are still deciding on garments for the models to wear.”

“Wow, fashion week.” You say in disbelief, shaking your head, to keep the tears at bay. “You really made it Hobi. I’m so proud of you.” You whisper the last part and hug him once more, letting go of your tears.

It was so embarrassing but you couldn’t help it. You’ll send him money for the dry cleaners later.

“It wasn’t easy but knowing I’ll one day have this moment with you kept me going.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head, and pulling away. “You look amazing too, I’d love to have you as my professor.” He winks, making you laugh.

“I’d love to have you as my personal designer.” You retaliate, making him laugh. He lets go of your hands and stands up, posing dramatically. “That’s why I’m here. Now, come on, I have a few design ideas I want to run by you first.” He extends his hands for you and pulls you up quickly. “These are just prototypes but I think they all suit you one way or another.” He says, nodding towards the sales assistant who leaves through the bright pink curtains.

“Wait, wait, wait Hobi. How do you already have prototypes?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes jokingly. “Joon and I have been in contact here and there. So, I’ve been designing these since then. And don’t worry he hasn’t seen any of them.”

You’re floored, your annoyance zeroing in on your conniving and jealous fiance. Why the hell did he make you meeting Hoseok such a big deal if he had been plotting this against your back? But instead of focusing on that, you feel the butterflies in your stomach begin to erupt when the sales assistant comes in with three garment bags.

“Are you ready?” Hoseok says, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his dress pants.

Your heart begins to thunder against your chest when each garment bag is hung in front of you. You look at Hoseok who has the biggest smile on his face and you realize what a full circle moment this is for the two of you. You gave up your relationship for dreams either of you didn’t know you’d ever achieve. Yet, here you are. Him a self made fashion designer making a pit stop on his busy schedule to do this for you. And you, you are working your dream job and getting ready to marry the love of your adult life.

You smile nodding enthusiastically. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

A/n: it's short, but I will try to be more consistent with my uploads. Check out all my other stories too!

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