#fluff turned angst

[madd-craft]

Flight of the Canary

Gift for @rabbitminesthecrafted

Based on fanart by @applestruda

Ao3 Link

Tango makes Jimmy a pair of prosthetic wings and Jimmy has fun testing them out!

Just a completely normal fluff fic, don't worry about the tags, it's fine :)

“Rancher!” Tango immediately turned from the small adjustments he was making with his latest invention when he heard the voice shout near him. He giggled as he dropped his creation and caught an armful of Jimmy. His face was smattered with kisses from his favorite canary. The kisses carefully avoided his mouth until finally Jimmy planted one right on his lips and didn’t pull away. Tango pulled him closer and Jimmy picked Tango up.

Tango giggled into the kiss and Jimmy joined him until they were now laughing instead of kissing. They weren’t laughing at anything in particular, they simply filled each other with delight whenever they were together.

“So, my rancher~” Jimmy set Tango back down, though Tango wouldn’t have minded if Jimmy had continued to hold him, “Why’d you call me all the way out here?”

“Does there have to be a reason for me to see you?” Tango teased.

“Oh, so you were just lonely?” Jimmy smirked. “I can fix that~”

Tango laughed again. “You always fix everything! But no, I actually have a gift for you!” Tango bent down and picked up the invention he had dropped.

“A gift?” Jimmy questioned and his eyes widened when he saw it. He hadn’t even noticed it before, too taken with Tango in front of him. It was a beautifully constructed pair of wings Tango was holding now. White canvas stretched between artfully carved pieces of wood, hinged in the shape of a bird’s wings. In the center were leather straps, sized to perfectly fit over Jimmy’s undersized wings. Jimmy unconsciously shifted his own wings as he stared at the new ones.

“Do you like it?” Tango asked, trying to seem cheerful but with a hint of cautiousness in his voice. His tail flicked nervously behind him and he seemed to duck his head slightly, not sure if the gift would be appreciated.

“I…I love them!” Jimmy excitedly shouted and ran his hand over the canvas. The fabric was tightly woven and would have no problem catching the wind. “Can I try them on? Now?”

“Well, I asked Grian to be here when you tested them.” Tango chuckled, relaxing now that he knew Jimmy loved his gift. “He’s running a bit late though. Something about flowers?”

“Grian’s always late!” Jimmy huffed. “And with the craziest excuses, probably trimming his flower bushes or something. Can’t we please go ahead without him?” Jimmy pleaded, clasping his hands and giving his best sad eyes to Tango.

“Yeah, yeah, Grian’s always late with you,” Tango tried to ignore Jimmy’s big eyes, “but I wanted another flier to be here when we tested them, just in case, you know? No one else can use them since they only fit over your wings and they aren’t like elytra since they’re supposed to work with the movement of your wing muscles and obviously I don’t have the parts to wear them and Grian’s wings are too big to fit with my calculations for how it will catch wind and be able to steer without-”

Tango was suddenly cut off by a kiss from Jimmy. It lasted a long moment before Jimmy pulled away and gave Tango a relaxed smile. “I trust your creations, rancher.” Tango gave a wistful sigh and smiled.

“Okay, fine. You can take it for a spin.” Tango helped Jimmy slide the leather straps over his wings, Tango nervously asking the whole time if they were pulling at his feathers at all. Jimmy just laughed and said he loved how Tango fretted.

“Alright, you sure you can do this?” Tango’s eyes darted around the wings. “You know how to steer and everything? Should we wait for Grian?”

“Of course I know!” Jimmy huffed and smirked at Tango playfully. “I may not be able to fly, but I’m still an avian! Besides, with your creation, I’ll probably be flying better than Grian ever could.” Jimmy gave Tango one last peck on the lips and stepped forward. Tango had chosen this mountain near the shopping district as the meeting spot specifically so Jimmy could easily take off and test the wings. He shouldn’t need rockets since he had his wing muscles to flap the fake wings. But what if his muscles were as underdeveloped as his wings? Maybe Tango should give him some rockets, just in case-

Before Tango’s thoughts could go any further, Jimmy had seemingly hyped himself up and thrown himself off the mountain, wings spread. Tango ran to the edge and his mouth fell open in a large smile as Jimmy easily glided his way down. They could work and glide as elytra, that was good, now for-

Jimmy flapped as hard as he could and shot himself into the air. Tango cheered as loud as he could. To anyone else it wasn’t anything amazing, Grian easily lifted himself higher with one flap, but this was Jimmy, Tango’s rancher and love. He was finally flying, and Tango helped make that happen, he helped make Jimmy happy, and that meant everything to him.

He watched Jimmy try more maneuvers. He could turn and drift. Tango could tell how much fun Jimmy was having with how high he flew. After reaching as high as wanted, he began to glide, having fun learning to turn left and right. He did a spiral down and Tango cheered more.

Suddenly Jimmy was diving. Tango knew avians loved the speed, Grian was always diving. But didn’t diving seem a bit advanced for him? Even Tango remembered in season 6 when Grian regularly ran into walls because he was going too fast. He narrowed his eyes at Jimmy’s silhouette. Jimmy wasn’t diving. One of the wing’s joints had broken, dangling behind Jimmy. The broken joint had caused the canvas on that side to unhook and be left flapping in the wind. The other wing was fully extended, Jimmy desperately trying to use the only good wing to catch the wind and slow his fall, but it was no use.

It wasn’t even a second. Jimmy was in the air and then he wasn’t. His figure had fallen behind the trees, thankfully shielding Tango from what happened, but he knew. He knew what happened. The wings had failed, Jimmy had fallen, it was all Tango’s fault. He went through the schematics in his head. What had failed? Did the hinge restrictor break? Could the wings not handle the wind pressure? He did the calculations hundreds of times, they should’ve worked, they shouldn’t have failed!

Tango didn’t know how long he stood there on the edge of the mountain. He felt numb. Like his mind was still desperately thinking about everything that just happened over and over again, trying to understand it. He couldn’t understand it. Eventually he heard another flap of wings that jolted him out of his head.

“Hey, Tango! Sorry I’m late, was fighting off butterflies, you know how it is.” Grian looked around. “Where’s Jimmy?”

[echoes-of-the-unknown]

And then he was fine, don’t worry about it :)

[tlou-reid]

as much as he’d hate to admit it, spencer kept a lot of secrets from the team.

some were minor, like how the cardigan jj gave him really was itchy, or how the new coffee machine in the office was significantly harder to clean than the old one, making each cup of coffee slightly more bacteria-filled than the less. other secrets were major, like the time his addiction had taken hold of him or the many social media accounts he had on the smart phone the team had recently found out about.

it’s true. he was on almost every platform, usually under some variation of user17376 and with no icon. but he was still there. he followed exactly one person, who also seemed to be his biggest secret.

you.

he wasn’t even sure if you knew of the vaguely-stalker-esque accounts he created just to keep tabs on you. he could only imagine how hard it would be to keep track of one user, without a name, located in your hundreds of thousands of followers. you might’ve hit one million after your newest single dropped, he hadn’t had time to check.

spencer felt bad stumbling out of your release party. he’d stuck to the back as you did your thank you speeches, excitedly dropping hints to your upcoming album. your relationship with spencer, if it could even be called that, was very private and he intended to keep it that way.

that’s why he was keeping you a secret. obviously. not because he hasn’t truly asked you to be his girlfriend. or because he was too shy to admit he even knew someone as famous as you. or because of his own insecurities telling him that he didn’t deserve you. no, of course not.

after your speeches and singing along to your brand new pop single that dropped at midnight, you did scooch your way to the back to talk to him. spencer’s arm still had goosebumps from where you held it as you laughed at his joke. he was a bit more bold now that he was three fruity drinks in. despite your fame and all of the attention you received, spencer felt comfortable in the hidden depths of your party.

his mind sort of shut off, just enjoying his time with you. every conversation topic was riveting, and he wished he could stay here with you forever.

and then his work phone rang in his pocket. spencer pretended like he didn’t see the small flash of disappointment when he answered it, saying a “hey, jj,” quietly into the speaker. you gave him a quick side hug, and then ran off, knowing he was about to leave.

and here he was, stumbling out of the party, listening to jj’s authoritative voice tell him that he needs to get to quantico asap, bring a go-bag, and meet the team on the jet so they could go over the case.

yikes. right to the jet. must be important.

as he hung up, he looked solemnly into the building your party was in. despite the empty feeling in his chest, he couldn’t help but smile at the pink lights pouring out of the windows.

and off he was to quantico.

the train ride there gave him a lot of time to ponder your interaction with him. sure, it felt like you maybe wanted to be his girlfriend when you were together. you held strong eye contact with him, weren’t afraid of small physical touches, gave him all of your attention, and stood close to him when engaged in conversations. all tell-tale behavioral signs of a crush.

but things never went deeper than surface level. it always seemed like he was catching up with a friend, not flirting with someone who he was interested in. even if he was definitely interested in you. he sighed, realizing that feeling had to stem from you, then. if you were into him, you’d also flirt with him.

so, no matter how many times you invited him to things, or he slept on your velvet couch after a game night with you and a few of your friends, that’s all he’d ever be to you. a friend.

spencer decides to turn his mind off (and his hidden smart phone), opting to bury his nose into a book. he brought a few, just in case.

he doesn’t turn his phone back on until the second night in the dingy motel. he really was trying to give himself space from you. you were infecting his mind, preventing him from thinking clearly and making decisions on the case. he thought one look at your social media might clear his head.

he opened your twitter, seeing only one new tweet. it was a video, captioned ‘been working on this one, hope you like it.’ the video played in the small media player as he inspected it. you were sat criss-cross, an acoustic guitar resting in your lap. your nails were pink, matching your newest single cover.

as he looked closer, he could see the glitter across your collar bones and your slightly-smeared makeup. this was filmed the night of your party. it must’ve been after it, given your disheveled appearance. he couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful you looked.

finally, he opened the video, your beautiful voice filling the room. spencer closed his eyes, trying to listen to the words you were singing.

“i told myself, don't get attached, but in my mind, i play it back, spinning faster than the plane that took you.”

spencer gasped, realizing the similarities to his situation. oh my god oh my god oh my god.

“and this is when the feeling sinks in, i don’t wanna miss you like this. come back, be here. come back, here.”

this song was for him.

read about how popstar!reader and spencer met here <3

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: T || tags: post vecna, references to stancy, angst and fluff, robin buckley just being herself

~~~

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. It’s a Friday night– and not what Eddie would consider a late hour–but they weren’t expecting anyone to join their weekly movie night at Steve’s. 

He glances at Robin who shrugs, shaking her head. As he rounds the kitchen counter towards the foyer, Steve’s voice carries down the hallway.

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

“Steve, I’m sorry I know it’s late, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I can’t wait anymore,” she says. Eddie can’t see her, but she sounds anxious. 

“This can’t be good,” Robin huffs. He agrees, if the sinking pit in his stomach is any indicator.

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

“Steve,” she barrels over him, sounding desperate. “I’ve been an idiot trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed you since we broke up– and before you say it, this isn’t because Jonathan left after we closed the last gate. When we were stuck there with Robin and Eddie, the way you looked at me was how I’ve always hoped someone would love me. You looked at me like I was everything to you, like you could look at me forever and never get tired of it. I feel wanted, and loved, and safe when I’m around you.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before pressing on.

“Last time, when we were together, I took all of my grief and anger out on you. I blamed you for  what happened to Barb because I couldn’t face it myself and I knew you loved me enough to hold the weight, and I resented you for it. You wouldn’t stand up to me, and I resented you because you loved me anyway.” Eddie can hear Nancy sniffling, small sobs carrying down the hallway. “You loved me at my worst, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re amazing, and strong, and kind and everything I could ever ask for.

“Steve, what you said in the Winnebago, I just, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us”

The silence that follows is stifling and Eddie feels bile climbing up his throat. Arms wrap around his shoulders as Robin tucks her head into his neck. Only a small comfort while months of gentle moments with Steve flash behind his eyes: soft hands brushing his curls, stolen glances, lingering touches, and warm smiles. Now Eddie’s forced to stand vigil as it’s all washed away by Nancy's whispered pleas.

A spark of hope after a late night confession months ago– swiftly blown away.

“Nance, please–”

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

“Nancy,” Steve interrupts, his tone firm yet soft around the edges, “I’m in love with someone else.”

Robin gasps into his neck. Her arms around his shoulders squeeze tight, anchoring him to reality in the wake of Steve’s confession. His chest is so full he can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers before another, deeper sob leaves her breathless. He never thought he’d hear Nancy Wheeler cry. Even though they’re apparently both in love with the same man, he’s grown close with her too and can’t help the urge to comfort her. Eddie’s grown to love everyone in his new found family. But Nancy is right. 

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And Eddie’s everything is Steve Harrington.

“Yeah Nance, I’m sorry. And they’re kind of here right now, so,” he says gently.

And they’re kind of here right now…

Hope flames in his chest, blooming with warmth. Eddie doesn’t hear the conversation end over the buzzing in his own head and Robin’s frantic giggling until they hear the click of the front door and Steve’s footsteps coming towards them.

“Oh.”

Steve’s standing in front of them, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Eddie’s realizing he and Robin maybe should’ve hid before Steve rounded the corner to find them eavesdropping. 

“So,” Steve stammers, a fierce rouge burning his ears, “how much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Robin quickly stands, clearing her throat before Eddie can think of an answer. “Is that the microwave? Did anyone else hear the microwave ding? I think the popcorn is done, so I can go check that right now. Yeah, right now. I’ll just, umm, be in the kitchen checking the popcorn. For the movie.”

She practically sprints down the hall, and although she wasn’t subtle, Eddie’s still thankful for the privacy. Steve’s shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Everything,” Eddie answers. “We heard everything.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He sounds anxious and unsure, something Eddie’s compelled to fix, because all he wants in this world is for Steve Harrington to be happy.

“It’s ok.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own, tracing his thumb lightly over his knuckles. “We won’t say anything to her about it, and we won’t tell anyone what she said. Nancy’s in safe hands with us. Mum’s the word!” And as Eddie mimes zippering up his mouth, he hopes that Steve won’t take the easy way out. That he won’t use the life-raft Eddie’s just thrown in his direction to keep him from drowning. 

“Right,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he gazes at the floor between them. The silence as Eddie waits for Steve’s next words grows long and tense. He can’t hear any movement in the kitchen, making him more anxious now that he knows Robin’s listening. Which, he’d be a hypocrite to be mad about.

Maybe he has this all wrong. Maybe Steve just needed a way to get her to leave, so he lied about having a date over. Maybe he didn’t know what to say, and just said the first thing to pop into his head. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Eddie at all. 

Eddie realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hands, his grip tightening the longer he spirals. If it hurts, Steve hasn’t said anything. But when Eddie looks at his face, he seems dazed and lost in thought. As fast as if he’d been burned, Eddie drops Steve’s hands and takes a step backward.

“So,” Eddie stammers, voice shaking, “I’m going to go help Birdie with the popcorn. You want to get another movie started?”

Hands still frozen in the air, Steve finally lets his clenched fists fall to his sides. Eddie can see the whites of his knuckles. He hears Steve sigh, exhausted and frustrated, but Steve’s nodding with furrowed brows and taking a step backward towards the living room– away from Eddie. Too far to reach out to.

Turning away, Eddie’s in the middle of forming an escape attempt when he opens the kitchen door to immediately be swept up in Robin’s arms. Of course she’d been listening. He’s grateful for it, now that he doesn’t have to explain himself. As he buries his face into her neck, he finds a wet patch and wonders what kind of accident she got into while prepping snacks. It’s not until she starts gently shushing him that he realizes he’s crying, tears soaking into her shirt. 

“It’s gonna be ok, teddy bear,” she says, running her hand through his curls, “he’ll get there, I promise. He’s working on it, you know that.”

He nods. He does know that. Steve’s been out to Robin for a few months, but only to Eddie for a few weeks. He deserves the space to figure it out, and the grace of those around him to do so at his own pace. Still, Eddie can’t help his growing impatience alongside the increasing severity of his crush. At least Robin’s here to support the both of them.

The two of them finish gathering the snacks in silence. She was full of awkward jokes to try to lighten the mood, but when it was clear Eddie was stuck in his head, she’d stopped. He feels bad about it. He’ll make it up to her later, plus he knows she’s not upset with him. Eddie suspects they’ll be getting together sometime tomorrow to rehash everything that’s happened– after she’s finished consoling Steve, of course.

When they leave the kitchen, Eddie’s surprised to find Steve exactly where he’d left him. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, lip pulled between his teeth and hands still clenched. But when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s, there’s resolve behind his eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Oh my god! Finally!”

Eddie jumps violently at Robin’s shouting, almost directly into his ear. She’s flushed red with embarrassment decorated with a manic grin so wide he wonders if it’ll just keep stretching like taffy. There’s popcorn poured out onto the floor from where she clearly threw her hands up in excited exasperation. He watches as her eyes grow wide, her smile morphing into shock, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’, as if to say ‘oh shit, I just interrupted the most important moment in my best friends’ lives because I’m so excited and impatient that these two dinguses finally figured their shit out’.

She kicks the scattered popcorn towards the wall, like that’ll somehow hide the mess, before awkwardly passing them both down the hall towards the living room.

Eddie loves her so much.

“Huh,” Eddie chuckles, “well that was–”

“I’ve known I’ve liked you since last summer when you let me help you into my pool onto Holly’s rubber duck floaty so you could finally go swimming after you finished physical therapy.” Steve sounds out of breath, words running into each other with misplaced breaths in between. Like if he stops, he knows he won’t start again. 

It’s the only time Eddie’s felt the urge to keep quiet– when he’s not fighting for his life.

“You were so nervous,” Steve plows on, “but you said you felt safe with me, that you wanted only me to be there. You said you trusted me to help without laughing or judging you. Fuck, Eddie, you were so goddamn cute once we got you settled in with a Coke with a crazy straw in it. We were listening to ABBA and you didn’t even complain and you were so sunburnt the next day. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

The memory leaves Eddie shocked. He did trust Steve to help, didn’t even consider asking anyone else because Steve just felt like the most obvious answer. He’d been there through the worst of Eddie’s post-PT work to make sure he ‘kept form’ on his exercises. They’d lounged in the sun all day, and it was the first time Eddie watched Steve relax since his final Upside-Down battle. 

Eddie feels his lip quiver, eyes burning, knowing they’d felt the same that day. Judging by Steve’s watery eyes, he guesses they feel the same now, too. 

“But love,” Steve whispers. He swallows as he takes a step closer, reaching out to grasp his hands. “Eddie Munson, I knew I was in love with you yesterday.”

His shoulders tighten as he recalls yesterday, surprised because they hadn’t seen each other at all, one of the rare days where their schedules didn’t line up. It was the first time in months they’d gone longer than thirty-six hours without seeing each other. Sure, they’d talked on the phone while Steve worked, but it’s not the same.

“I know,” Steve laughs, clocking Eddie’s confusion. “I thought about you all day. Couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Robin had to work with the customers because all I kept thinking about was tonight. If you’d get here before Robin, so we could sit out by the pool and smoke. Where we’d sit for the movie and if we’d get to share the popcorn bucket. If you’d pick a movie I hadn’t seen, so you’d lean in close and tell me a million random facts, even when you know I don’t really get it. But I just like when you’re close, next to me, and–” he hesitates– “I think that’s why you do it.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, wiping a tear from his eye using the back of Eddie’s knuckles. He returns the gesture, wiping what Eddie’s guessing is a mix of tears and snot off of his own face with Steve’s sleeve. 

“I think you lean in because you want to be close to me, too, and you don’t actually care about the movie either. Eddie, I think you ask for my help because you trust me in a way only Robin does. You give me cute nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘pretty boy’ because you’re teasing me, but I think it’s mostly because you really mean it.” Steve’s stepped closer now, and Eddie can feel the warmth of shared air between their gasping breaths. 

“I think you tease me and lean into me because you want my attention,” Steve whispers, brushing his nose alongside Eddie’s as their foreheads touch. “But Eddie, you’ve always had my attention.”

Eddie surges forward, capturing Steve’s tear-soaked lips between his own in what has to be the snotiest kiss either of them has ever had. But he doesn’t care. How could he? Eddie’s kissing the man he’s been in love with for almost eight months. 

Steve drops Eddie’s hands in favor of running one through his dark curls, while the other grips tightly at his waist. He can’t help but cup Steve’s cheeks, running a gentle thumb along his cheekbones. 

It’s soft and messy and everything he’s ever hoped for, because Steve Harrington is his everything, and he’ll do anything to keep him. Right now, he doesn’t have to worry about what they’ll tell their friends, or how they’ll explain this to Nancy, or even if Robin’s listening behind the door– he’s sure she is. No, right now, he lets himself bask in the glow of Steve’s love and soak in the comfort that Steve feels loved in return.

[hallietblr]

my favourite birthday girl | j.fisher x reader

request: i would like to request can it be where jere and i are best friends and its my bday belly and conrad throw a surprise bday party for me at the becks beach house and jeremiah & i go upstairs and we go in his bedroom he confesses that he liked me since last summer and i have my first time with jere trying different sex positions like hes on top of me and im on top of him riding him & doing cowgirl style position lots of kissing can it be smut/angst and is it okay if i include my name and if not you can do y/n thanks babe❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🏻🥰

a/n: i fricking LOVE this!! i had so much fun writing it and i hope you all enjoy!

warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), oral (fem! receiving), swearing, alcohol consumption, and jeremiah being a total sweetheart

—

the sun was shining brightly through the windows of my bedroom, the morning breeze coming through smelling of sea salt. i flutter my eyes open, taking in the warmth of the summer. i reach for my phone that was charging by my bed side. the moment the lockscreen wakes, it’s full of birthday messages.

i feel myself smile as i go through the individual texts from all my friends back home in maine. i respond to them all, thanking each of them for the kind and loving messages.

after doing so, i finally decide that it’s time for me to get out of bed. i stretch out the slumber from my body before crawling out of the warm bed. i grab my phone and my bluetooth speaker and head over to my bathroom to start my birthday right.

cruel summer by taylor swift starts playing loudly as i pull off my pajamas, which was in reality one of jeremiah’s old t-shirts. i decide to text my friends to see what the plans were for the day, assuming they had something in mind.

—

SUMMER GANG☀️🌊🫶

y/n!

goodmorning guys!! what are the plans for today?

stevie:

con and i are going fishing at the pier today

belly <3:

i told my mom that i’ll go to the store with her today!! sorry girl!

y/n!:

that’s fine haha have fun! tell laur i said hi:)

j:

i should be available today i think

connie:

i thought ur coming fishing?

stevie:

yeah!! boys trip!!

belly <3:

wow i’ve nvr seen us all so busy lol

j:

wdym it’s a regular day

connie:

nvm mom says u need to clean ur room jere

stevie:

LOL

belly <3:

so true, it’s gross jeremiah

j:

shut upp

urs isn’t any better bells

belly <3:

:(

y/n!:

stop being mean j

—

i close my phone, a bit disappointed that it appeared that all my friends forgot about my birthday. i try to shake it off and assume that they’re all busy, so remembering a birthday isn’t that big of a deal.

i step into my shower, washing my hair with my coconut shampoo and conditioner, lathering my body with body wash, and shaving every inch of my body. i sing to taylor swift as i shower, feeling my muscles relax in the warm water. i dry myself off with a towel and pull on a cute purple summer dress that i had gotten earlier last week.

after putting on some makeup and doing my hair, i figured that i was ready to go downstairs to see my family. at least they would remember my birthday.

you only turn seventeen once, plus laurel, susannah, and my mom always told me that seventeen is an amazing year.

my mom was preparing my favourite smoothie bowl when i got to the kitchen. her face lit up after seeing me turn the corner and a smile drawn up her face, “happy birthday, my babygirl!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight embrace.

i hug her back, “thank you, momma!”

she hands me the beautiful smoothie bowl, “here you go, sugar! let me go get you your presents!”

my mom scurries away to her office before returning with multiple gifts all wrapped up in colourful gift wrap. she places them on the kitchen island before sitting down beside me.

i was already half way done my breakfast when my dad and baby sister came into the kitchen.

“happy seventeenth, babydoll” my dad grins, planting a kiss on my forehead, “i can’t believe how grown up you are already.”

“happy birthday sissy!” my four year old sister yells, hugging my leg. i ruffle her hair, thanking the both of them.

my mom urges me to open up the presents, she had always been a huge gift giver — seeing people’s reactions were her favourite thing. i open the sealed boxes, revealing lululemon clothing, a new ipad, gorgeous jewelry, and some makeup products that i’ve been wanting to get.

“mom!” i exclaim, in shock of the overwhelming amount of gifts, “you didn’t have to!”

“oh, honey,” she coos, brushing my hair, “it’s your seventeenth birthday! of course i had to, do you like them?”

i look at her with my mouth opened agape, “yes, yes! of course i love them all! you know me so well, thank you!”

my arms wrap around my mom, squeezing her tight.

“my first baby,” she whispers into my ear so my sister, lindsay, doesn’t hear her, “i love you with my whole heart.”

i finish up the rest of my breakfast, while also admiring my new items. my dad also takes a few photos of us, most likely to post on his facebook page later. luckily, i look decent right now.

“eat up,” my dad says to me, “your friends are probably waiting for you.”

i shrug, “they’re all busy today.”

my mom turns to me with a raised eyebrow, “seriously? do you want me to call susannah?”

i shake my head quickly, “no! it’s alright, really.”

“i’m sorry, baby” my dad squeezes my shoulder, “you can hang out with us today.”

i give him a small smile, “that sounds good.”

the rest of the day was uneventful, well not exactly. it was moreso just a typical day for us. my sister and i went swimming in our pool, i watched tv with my parents, and scrolled through my phone a ton. i really didn’t want to confront my friends about them forgetting my birthday, it would’ve been immature was what i told myself. it’s not like i’m six anymore.

i was laying on my bed when i received a text message.

—

j:

heyy pretty

wanna come over? we just came back from fishing 🎣

y/n!:

sure :)

j:

awesome! see you soon!!

also wear something nice ;)

y/n!:

why?

j:

not that you don’t always look nice!!!

my mom wants to take photos or smt lol

y/n!:

oooook

—

my brows furrow in slight confusion of the request but i shrug it off. i get up from my laying position and go to my closet to find something ‘nice’. i find a black satin slip dress that i brought from back home, i figured this would be nice enough. i put it on and look at myself in front of my mirror.

i smooth down the material of the dress, checking how it looks from the side and from behind. i silently pray that jeremiah would like it, i’ve overheard him, conrad, and steven talk about how jeremiah is an ass man multiple times — considering how the satin material of the dress perfectly fits my bum, i’m convinced he’ll appreciate it.

i grab my phone, sunglasses, and my favourite lip gloss before heading downstairs. i see my parents cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie together with my sister fast asleep in the space next to them.

i slide on my white converse and head over to them, “i’m going over to the fishers.” i tell them. they smile and remind me to have fun and to be home by two am.

the walk over to the fisher summer home is brief, a quick five minute walk. them living only two houses over from mine always came in handy. i open up the front door before my vision became black.

“do you trust me?” he says, jeremiah’s hands clamped over my eyes.

“if you ruin my mascara, j, i might cry.” i joke, “yes, i do trust you.”

“okay, good.” i can hear his infamous smile in his voice, “come with me.”

he guides me slowly through the house, his hands still over my eyes. jeremiah lifts them off and it takes me a moment before noticing all the decorations put up around the kitchen. there are streamers hanging from the walls and across the ceilings, so many pretty balloons in every corner of the room, a huge ‘happy birthday’ sign hanging on the cupboards.

my hand flyes to clamp over my open mouth, “oh my god!”

steven, belly, laurel, susannah, and conrad all jump up from their hiding spot behind the kitchen island.

“surprise!” they all scream out. i smile widely, taking in everything,

“you guys!” i gush, as im being pulled into a hug from jeremiah, “thank you!”

his muscular arms hold me and he plants two kisses on my hair, “did you really think we forgot your birthday, pretty girl?”

i laugh, “well maybe! you guys are forgetful sometimes… like the time you forgot belly and i at the walmart!”

he rolls his eyes playfully, “oh shush, that was one time!”

“we never forget birthdays here.” susannah giggles before also hugging me, “happy birthday my gorgeous and beaming girl.”

everyone takes their turn in hugging me and wishing me a happy birthday. i thank each of them individually, the smile never leaving my face once.

“who planned this?” i ask laurel, who was carefully pulling out the birthday cake from the fridge.

“it was all belly and connie’s idea” she smiles, “now go sit!”

i take my seat next to jeremiah and steven before laurel brings the cake with seventeen candles on it in front of me. they all sing happy birthday to me and i close my eyes to make a wish.

every year since i was five years old, my birthday wish has been the same. not even just for my birthday, anytime i saw a shooting star, or tossed a penny in a fountain, or honestly any other occasion that required making a wish — it has always been the same.

it was wishing for jeremiah to notice me in the same way that i see him. it’s all i’ve ever wanted, as stupid as it can get.

i blow out all the candles and susannah cuts up the cake into slices before serving it to everyone. belly reminds me of all the birthday presents that they had gotten me, and to open it later.

after cake, susannah and laurel agree to leave the home to go to a cocktail bar so that the kids can have the house to themselves for a few hours. more teenagers from cousins start showing up, all of them wishing me a happy birthday as they come in.

drinks are being served, music is playing loudly off the multiple speakers scatter around the home, beer pong matches are being played by the pool, people dancing.

jeremiah stays next to me for the whole night, we chat with a few of our friends while sipping our seltzers.

“do you wanna go upstairs for a bit?” jeremiah says to me in a hushed tone, “y’know, to get away from this?”

i nod, “yeah, for sure.”

he smiles, taking my hand into his own and guiding me through the crowd and up the stairs. we walk to his bedroom, he closes the door behind me and locks it. jeremiah places his drink on his dresser and offers to put mine next to it, i agree and soon we’re both seated on his bed.

we make small talk, him asking about my birthday so far as he rummages around in his desk drawer. he sits back down beside me, facing me. he places a small velvet box into my hands,

“open it, my favourite birthday girl.” he smirks, looking into my eyes. his hand was on my thigh and i can feel myself blushing.

i think i can get lost in his ocean eyes, they’re so beautiful and full of life. i smile and carefully open it, inside was a gorgeous golden ring with a large (what im assuming was a fake) diamond on it.

“j…” i gasp, lifting the ring out of its box and admiring it, “this must have costed a fortune.”

he shrugs, “anything for you, look on the band.”

i bring the ring closer to my eyes and see that there’s an engraving on the inside of the band.

in love with my best friend <3

my jaw drops, “jeremiah?”

i look up at him, our eyes interlocking. he slowly nods, “i love you, y/n — i’ve always have, i thought it was a childhood crush and i don’t think i really realized until last summer that i truly do love you.”

“can i?” he asks, taking the ring from my hand. i nod and he carefully slips it onto my finger before being it to his lips and kissing it.

i pull him into a kiss, my hands rested on his cheeks and his on my waist. he kissed back almost immediately. my hands move down to his built chest and gently push him down onto his back, our lips never leaving each others. i adjust my legs so im straddled on him,

“i’ve always loved you too.” i whisper against his lips, he smiles into the kiss and kisses me harder.

his fingers fiddle with the edge of my dress, hands sliding up and down the back of my thighs before squeezing my ass slowly, “god, i couldn’t take my eyes off of you in this dress. it makes your body look so fucking good.” jeremiah groans.

i lower my crotch onto the evident tent in his pants, he gasps at the contact while slowly grind my hips on his.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants.” he moans into my ear as i flip my hair onto one side. i bring my face to his jawline, kissing it and licking the soft skin. his hands tighten around my ass and i moan at the contact.

his hand slips under my dress and to the lace material of my thong, his finger slide underneath the band of it. he lifts it before letting it go, the snap of my underwear against my skin making me moan louder.

“sit on my face,” he tells me in a low voice, i feel myself getting even more wet and excited at the tone of it, “let me give you another birthday gift.”

he lifts me by the waist and moves me so my core is hovering above his mouth. i grab onto his head board while jeremiah slowly moves the lace material to the side and lowers me onto his face.

i gasp loudly when his tongue licks a long stride between my folds. he moans into me, “fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.” he mumbles against me, the vibrations causing me to throw my head back in pleasure.

jeremiah dips his tongue into me, licking up all the juices and tracing figure eights against me. i squeeze the headboard tighter, becoming a moaning mess quickly. his tongue is magic. he fucks me with his mouth, my thighs shaking around his head,

“shit, jere.” i cry out, feeling my high coming closer. his hands squeeze my ass yet again before landing a smack on my left ass cheek. i moan loudly in response, my body flowing with immense pleasure, “fuck, i’m gonna come!”

he never slows his tongue as i feel my orgasm come crashing down on me. waves of pure pleasure crashing down. jeremiah licks up every last drop as i slowly come down from the high. i move myself down from his face and back down towards his groin. i lean down to kiss his passionately, tasting myself on his lips,

“holy shit, i can eat you out all day long.” he says to me as his hands fumble with his pants. he kicks off his pants and boxers. his erection slaps his lower abdomen and i drool at the sight of it. it’s huge, red tip begging for attention and veins pulsating on the sides of it.

i move to give him a blowjob but his grip on my waist prevents me from moving, “it’s your birthday.” jeremiah tells me, “you can give me head another time.” he winks

my hips position themselves above his thick and veiny cock and i lower myself onto it. he fills me up perfectly and we both moan loudly at the same time. every inch of him inside on me as i bottom out.

i slowly start rocking my hips against him, both of us becoming a panting mess. his hands never leave my hips, lifting me and slamming me back down onto his dick.

“you feel so good, baby” he praises, “you tight pussy feels amazing around me, fuck”

i continue riding him, my hands tangled up in his hair, pulling it which makes him moan.

“i- i think your cock was made for me.” i whisper in his ear before kissing him harshly.

he smirks, “oh yeah?”

and i nodded feverishly before he flips us around so im on my back and his on top of me, “sorry baby, i want to be in control now”

he pulls out almost entirely before slamming himself back in, the new position making him hit me even deeper than he was before. he thrusts harder and deeper, my back arches and i grab onto the sheets beside me, “fuck i’m close” i cry

“me too, hold on.” he continues fucking me, littering kissing on my face and neck. i can feel my inner muscles squeezing around him which makes jeremiah groan, “i’m fucking gonna come.”

“let it go.” he encourages me, his thumb going down to start abusing the bundle of nerves. almost immediately, i feel myself orgasm. my legs tightening around his waist and i feel him finish inside of me. he releases a series of curse words as he fucks us both through our orgasms.

a few moments after he pulls out and rolls next to me. we’re both breathing heavily, trying to catch our breaths, “holy shit” i pant out, looking over at him.

he grins, “that was amazing.”

“beyond amazing.” i repeat and he laughs,

“fuck, i should’ve asked you this before.” he says, reaching over to cup my face, “will you be my girlfriend, y/n?”

i blush, “yes, a hundred times yes!”

—

taglist! @randomaccountworld123 @bxbyyyjocelyn @20nugs @jeremiahxaesthetic

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone - c.f

summary: y/n’s the only person who can get conrad, and he realizes that maybe he’s been falling for the wrong conklin.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

gif from @conradfiisher

a/n: this will likely have a part two, so it probably won’t end here!! no promises as to when pt 2 is out but it will be there eventually ;)) this is literally me wishing i could slap some sense into belly

part two

“hey,” y/n greets, stepping into the beach house and finding conrad unpacking.

“hi,” he smiles lightly. the past few months have been nearly impossible. trying to crack conrad open is like trying to break into a safe. it took y/n forever to be able to understand conrad, and now that she finally did, there was an undeniable spark. she could sense the tension in his mind, knowing that something had set him off. he looked like he just wanted to break down, but he didn’t want to. if he did, he doesn’t know how to put himself back together.

“you ok?” she asks, cautiously. he’s almost like a wild animal, get too close and he runs away. especially since susannah died, he hasn’t been able to find a connection like the one he had with his mother.

“fine,” he mumbles, folding a few blankets onto the couch and placing some pillows beside it.

“conrad, don’t play this game with me again,” y/n sighs, stepping closer to him. he pauses in his movements to look up at her, slapping one last piece of decor on the mantle. “can we at least talk about the exam?”

“i, um,” he stutters, unable to find the right words that have disappeared in his mind. it’s like he completely pushed out the exam, all the other events had forcefully taken the excitement from it. “i feel really good about it, but it’s just an exam.”

y/n can tell in his slumped stance that something is truly disturbing him. he looks broken, and whoever did it certainly failed to put the pieces back together. it appears that they didn’t even try. “talk to me, conrad. please?”

he stops, breaking eye contact. he can’t look at her while he tells her because she can’t see his face when he says it. he doesn’t want y/n to see him crack under the pressure again.

“jeremiah and belly were making out on my car when i came out of testing. i walked out and there they were.”

“what?” y/n spits out, thinking about everything belly had told her before. “i thought she said she moved on-“

“yeah, i did, too,” his voice breaks, still avoiding any looks to y/n. if y/n sees him falling apart over belly, y/n would probably say something. the last thing conrad wants is for belly to know the affect this had on him.

“conrad, you know you can talk to me, right?” she steps closer, wanting to reach out her hand to him but knowing he probably doesn’t want it. he wants belly’s. “anything you say to me won’t get back to her.”

he slightly turns, finally letting his eyes wander up y/n’s body until they meet hers. he’s always found a trust in y/n. she’s been there since they were little kids, but it’s always felt different. there was an innocence to her, she felt like home and he could always run back to her if he needed her. he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he ruined that.

“i’m just so tired, y/n. it’s just one step forward and two steps back. i thought we could finally be over this, but they both just stabbed me in the back. on my car, during my test, in my hoodie. my mom always said belly was destined for me, but it just feels like jere took that.”

y/n can feel the hurt as well as see it on conrad’s face. she’s able to read him so well now that he’s not afraid to open up. she feels like they’ve gotten through a door, a point where they can share secrets and find a safety net in the other. “belly doesn’t deserve you, conrad. she’s not as mature as you, and you can thrive without her, i swear.”

“i’ll be ok, i just need a break from all this shit,” he groans, allowing y/n to finally walk up to him and hold his hand. “i don’t know if we can go back to the way things were after this.”

“i know i can’t change what happened, but i need you to understand that you’re not alone. at this point, you come first to me.” he nods, and y/n can see the sunrise in his face a bit more, but his mind is still covered with darkness. “if you need anything, please call me or come see me, ok?”

“deal,” he cracks a little grin, making y/n smile a bit in return.

“take care of yourself, connie,” she says before opening the front door. she starts the long drive home knowing what’s waiting for her there.

she plants her stuff down on the counter, letting her body relax after the hours behind the wheel. she starts to clean up some of the mess that she left on the counter when she hears squeaky footsteps come down the stairs.

“hey, you’re back already?” belly says, lurking into the kitchen to lean against the frame. y/n doesn’t say anything, she just looks at her and continues to organize everything. “what’s wrong, why do you look like that?”

“honestly, belly, i’m just trying to figure out what to say to you.”

“what do you mean?” belly asks, trying to think about why her older sister could have a reason to be mad at her.

“i stopped at cousins on the way home,” y/n informs her, belly knowing exactly where she left conrad.

“y/n, you can’t be pissed off because of what he told you-“

“no, belly, i have every right to be pissed. i’m pissed for conrad. you left him in the dust and you have no shame about it.”

“it just happened, jeremiah and i. i never wanted to hurt conrad, but im in love!”

“yeah, you were also in love last week with conrad. and the week before with jeremiah. you need to move on from them, bell,” y/n sighs, allowing belly some time to build another response.

“who are you to even say that?”

“because i’ve been there for both of them! i was there for jeremiah when you wanted conrad. i’m there for conrad because you are playing with their hearts like they’re toys. i can tell your hearts not fully in it with jeremiah, but i’m not gonna let you destroy those boys even more.”

“how am i destroying them?”

“belly, wipe that innocence off your face. you’ve managed to rip apart the fisher brothers because you cannot pick which one you like more.”

“but-“

“no, belly! listen to me,” y/n cuts her off before she can try and make anything better. “you couldn’t even contain yourself at susannah’s funeral because you were too worried about conrad. i know we are all grieving, but you are acting like you’re more worried about which brother likes you more. it’s exhausting having to clean up the mess you make over and over again. you’re slowly ruining this bond for me, for steven, for mom! you know i love you more than words, but if you keep playing with their feelings, belly, this family is going to be destroyed.”

“y/n, susannah told me-“

“use susannah as an excuse one more fucking time, belly.” the room goes deadly silent, y/n sick of the excuses and victimized mentality of belly. when steven comes stepping quietly into the room, he ganders softly into the chaotic mess that has formed between his sisters. she swipes her keys back off the table, grabbing an extra bag out of the closet. “i’ll be back.”

“where are you going?” belly says, eyes full of tears from her fear of confrontation. her voice was shaky, and y/n could still feel a sting of guilt in her chest. she hated to build a bigger wall between everyone, but belly had to hear it.

“i’m going to look after conrad, because you failed to do it,” y/n ends their conversation, slamming the front door behind her and moving to the car. she left the house with a terrible tone, but someone else needed her more. belly had jeremiah, taylor, steven, laurel, anyone she wanted. conrad had y/n, and that became enough for him.

[soobnny]

ex!seungmin who thinks about you when he receives his diploma during his graduation in law school because he couldn’t have done it without you, and it breaks his heart that while he’d reached his dreams, you couldn’t be there to see him make it.

he’d remember the countless sleepless nights you’d stayed up with him to review for his tests

or when you’d urge him to get some rest or eat his meals when he’d forget sometimes

you were there to help him realize he could do it, coming with him to apply for numerous universities

you were there from the beginning, so why couldn’t you be there to see him reach the end?

and it was a mutual decision—the breakup. but he finds that, as he reaps the rewards of his efforts, it doesn’t feel right that you aren’t in the crowd

that night, seungmin ponders over whether to call you or not

instead, he sends a few text messages

he doesn’t think he could talk to you without crying, doesn’t think he’s ready to hear your voice again

seungmin (9:57pm): i graduated today haha

seungmin (9:58pm): i just wanted to say thank you. i know that things are over between us, but it’s undeniable the influence you had on me while i was in law school. i don’t know if i’d be able to make it this far if you hadn’t believed in me the way you did. thank you. i can’t say it enough.

seungmin (10:01pm): there’s so much i want to tell you, but i guess i don’t really have the right to do that anymore. still, i hope you realize how much you’ve changed the way i looked at life (for the better, i can hear you complaining already)

seungmin (10:03pm): oh, and i found this letter i’d written back when i was still in my 1st year. it’s addressed to you, and i vividly remember telling myself to give it to you on the day i graduate. haha, somehow i’d thought we’d still be together when today would come. lmk if you still want it or if it’s too awkward then that’s okay too

seungmin (10:06pm): alright that’s it. sorry if these messages freaked you out a little. i’m not even sure this is still your number

seungmin (10:07pm): thanks again, (name). you are the one person who made me believe i could make it and i did :) thank you

[ethosiab]

No fences. Just for a little bit.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 28

Thomas stared down at Bruce-no- Danny as he led him by the hand toward what he had dubbed as his "Secret Lair" which was just an old fall out shelter in the woods that had been well hidden and forgotten about. The door to it was old and still buried under years of dirt and plant growth, requiring Danny to phase them into it which made Thomas wonder how his grandson had found it in the first place.

Inside was surprisingly high tech. "You have a secret lair filled with all this equipment but don't have any weapons or armor?" Thomas asked, making mental preparations to fix that.

Danny sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and explained his only allies were two other 14 year olds who were also untrained, unarmed, unarmored, and unsuper-powered which would explain why Danny was so excited to be working with an adult vigilante who at least knew what they were doing.

The kid didn't even mind when some of his more evil or harmful rogues "stopped showing up" thankfully no one would really question the reclusive Vlad Masters "going back to Wisconsin" only to never be seen again. No one saw much of him before coming to Amity Park, it made since he would become a hermit again once he had his fill of human interaction.

And if hes later found dead in his cheese castle? Well, the body had decomposed too much to really say what killed him. His will left everything to a Daniel James Fenton/Daniel James Masters which visibly infuriated Danny. Thomas mentally patted himself on the back. It was a good call to get rid of that one. The will was a surprise, though one that can only benefit Thomas in his crusade of protecting his grandson. Its not like he can return to a timeline that no longer exists anyway.

Unfortunately this doesn't stop the bats from hearing about "Batman" operating in a city in Illinois for the past few months...

[salsakiyoomi]

you fell head over heals for someone you shouldn't have fallen head over heels for.

ryomen sukuna was an enigma and the very person you should've never fallen in love with.

you knew him from all over campus, he was a troublemaker but his looks made up for it, all the girls were in love and squealing about him, hoping for a chance to get in his bed and tangle up in his sheets.

of course, some did, the lucky ones you'd guess, for someone as arrogant and cocky as him, he sure was picky with who he gets with, it's not like he's ever had anything beyond one night stands, though still the dainty drummer still liked to have his good food.

oh yeah, he was a drummer in a band.

maybe that's what made him such a heartthrob at campus — actually, you weren't sure if it was the fact that he's a drummer or the fact that he's a gym freak, or the fact that he had tattoos or —

you could go on for days.

in your mind, you hated sukuna, he was nothing but a difficult and egocentric freak to you.

in your heart? that was a different story.

you should've never fallen in love with ryomen sukuna.

so now in the morning after of a fun night, tangled up in his sheets with your clothes scattered all over the floor, you knew you were the stupidest person to walk earth.

how did you get here? oh that's easy, you were drunk but not that drunk at a party with your friends, he was there with his band mates serving one song after the other until they got of stage and had a few drinks of their own.

then suddenly, sukuna's hands were all over you as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear about how pretty you are, the way you look and how perfect your body was for him.

you should've never fallen for any of this, why did you fall for all of this?

you had a giddy smile on your face and was giggling the whole way back as he led you to his room.

god, that was such a fuck up.

you groan, covering your eyes from the sunshine the leaks into the room from the cracks of the blinds, and when you get accustomed to it, you let your eyes wander over his room.

posters, curses, a drum set with a guitar in the corner, a vape and a pack of cigars on his nightstand, the dresser's door wide open with clothes spilled out.

yeah, everything about this screamed ryomen.

the door to his room opens and he walks in, hair dripping wet and with nothing but a towel around his waist.

he lets out a huff as he sees you're awake, "there is still warm water if you want to shower."

that's it? that's all he has to say to you? after everything he told and did to you last night? even after your naked bodies tangled and connected that's all?

he won't even meet your eyes.

"okay." is all you manage out in a meek voice, pulling the covers tighter over your body, hoping that you can just drown in them.

ryomen sukuna was an enigma, an enigma you should've never fallen in love with.

a/n : this was heavily inspired by another writer's drummer! sukuna drabble but i cannot for the life of me remember their user if somebody knows who they are pls tell me so i can give them their credits <33

[satoruhour]

a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me

the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.

when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.

gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—

“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.

it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.

gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.

he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.

you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.

“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.

and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.

not like this. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.

“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 

“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.

“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”

“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.

“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.

“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.

“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.

but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.

the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[celestialwrites]

stabbing/being stabbed prompts & dialogue⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

(inspired by @que3rduckling’s day)

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ character gets attacked in alley after leaking files.

♡ they could feel the coldness of the blade as it seeped in, contrasting the feel of the warm blood flowing out of them.

♡ “what happened, are you okay?” “yeah, i’m great, only lightly stabbed.” “you were STABBED?” “lightly.”

♡ “i’m feeling very attacked right now.” character says as they were getting stabbed.

♡ character confessing their undying love to their best friend as the blade pierced their chest.

♡ “i feel like you’re flirting with me.” character A states as character B swings to puncture.

♡ the deep crimson red of his blood clashed with the light colour of the floor as it splashed along it.

♡ character rips out blade as their wound heals instantly.

♡ “it’s almost like you’re going after my heart, at least take me to dinner first.”

♡ character running for their life as their best friend chases them with a knife.

♡ characters making intense eye contact as one dives a knife into the other’s heart.

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS<3

big thanks to @que3rduckling again (please go check them out!!)

[kamaluhkhan]

in my head, i play a supercut of us

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.

a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)

you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)

now — summer, age 18

driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming. 

it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.

your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too. 

it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s. 

you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open. 

"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!" 

"four summers can do that," you note. 

you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug. 

"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?" 

"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season." 

you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.

"possibly," laurel sighs. 

"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun." 

the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack. 

belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs. 

"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours." 

"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"

you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.

"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there." 

with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking. 

"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?" 

susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.

instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.

"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well? 

it was almost too much.

tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.

“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.

“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”

“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”

“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:

“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah. 

"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”

“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”

“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”

you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.

“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”

your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”

you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.

when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.

after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad. 

"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.

you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.

“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”

“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.” 

stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.

“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.

steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing. 

"yeah, well, i’m here.”

jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”

“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”

"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.

you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting. 

"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.

"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote." 

“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."

then — summer, age 11

you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.

it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good. 

"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat. 

"no way, man. it's freezing."

you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach. 

"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.

"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."

"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare. 

"i'm good," conrad snapped.

"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.

"i'm not scared —"

"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him. 

"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed. 

"yeah, but if connie —"

"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.

"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.

conrad smiled at you softly. "right." 

reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.

"ready?"

conrad nodded once. "ready." 

hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind. 

now 

jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize. 

"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet." 

jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly. 

"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"

the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer. 

"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive. 

you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay. 

"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.

"like i said: intense," you answer cooly. 

"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating. 

"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"

jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer. 

"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.

who the fuck is nicole? 

nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.

the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too. 

jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension. 

"never have i ever gotten a tattoo." 

you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink. 

"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes. 

"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage. 

the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other. 

"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.

you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach." 

the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.

then — summer, age 13

"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose. 

"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.

"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)

that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.

"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically. 

years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course). 

during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach. 

the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming. 

you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm. 

"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word). 

even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone. 

"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked. 

"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.

"i'll stay with you," conrad said.

belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together. 

"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?" 

conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"

you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs." 

conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!" 

you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.

"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."

"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it. 

"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."

you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.

"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."

"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.

"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.

"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."

being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats? 

conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks." 

you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was. 

"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.

"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."

you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other." 

you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.

now

you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.

the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.

you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.

conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink. 

“morning,” he whispers.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.

“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs. 

conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”

“i thought you loved football.”

“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”

you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports. 

“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.

conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well. 

“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.

“do what?”

conrad scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[kiri-thighs]

Express | J.Fisher

FEM! READER

summary: you and jeremiah are best friends and you two get into a terrible argument on the beach after showing mixed signals of each other's company. you express your feelings for him at the end of it and he realizes with you two obviously ignoring each other that he has those same feelings for you.

warnings: angst, mentions of underage drinking, cursing + TAKES PLACE IN AMAZON PRIME VIDEO SERIES SEASON 2. If you don't want minor spoilers please don't read OR you can watch season 2 first!! this one shot does not completely go with the plot of the show!

thank you and enjoy lovely readers 🤍

"I can't fucking believe you, Y/N." Jeremiah said, half intoxicated due to them leaving a party at Susannah's house. Susannah was gone and all of you had decided to throw a party.

Rewinding to at least an hour before he had said those words to you, what led up to this moment was surprising. As you and Jeremiah were partying, about to kiss a fight broke out between Milo and Steven.

Another event happened where Skye ended up sharing the news about their mom, Julia making a deal with the kids that lived, well used to live at the Cousins beach house.

You and the others were allowed one week each summer, since the family that Julia had sold it to wasn't going to use it too much. Jeremiah, you and Belly hearing the news, all three of you were happy.

Though there was one person that couldn't accept the deal and that was when Jeremiah and Conrad ended up fighting. You were in the middle of it.

"Jere don't say that-" You said, holding his arm as Jeremiah pushed you away, which caused you to be taken aback. As Belly was leaving, Skye went after her. You stayed as you watched Jeremiah throw hurtful words towards Conrad.

"Jere stop-" You said but Jeremiah looked at you, after everything that he said to Conrad.

"So what you're defending him now too?" Jeremiah asked as you looked at Conrad, before looking down and shaking your head.

"I'm, I'm not sure." You whispered.

"Yeah. There it is again. The I'm not sure from Y/N. One happy thing, such a small thing that everyone could be happy about and you go and ruin it Conrad." Jeremiah said as he walked away.

As everyone seemed to go their separate ways, you stayed in front of Conrad as you felt your chest was hurting.

Conrad was silent, his eyes teary due to the words that Jeremiah said towards him. Conrad looked up as you were lost in thought, your mind vacant before you hear Conrad calling out your name. You looked up at him when he asked, "You okay?" his voice was shaky, hoarse and like it was caught in his throat.

"Yeah...yeah it's just," You started before sighing. "Last summer was messy." You stood there as your voice was shaky too, wondering why in this moment you felt like breaking down.

There was one specific person that you loved so much. That person was Jeremiah Fisher. Yet with how things were going last summer due to the whole love triangle, Susannah and other messy stuff, it was like that again.

You were caught in the middle of it and it was not until this summer that your feelings for Jeremiah were growing uncontrollably larger.

"As soon as school got out, hearing about the house being sold I've been trying hard too. To get the house back. To talk some sense into your dad. To talk to your aunt and I never once told anyone how much things have effected me." You said as your eyes teared up remembering the way Jeremiah and Conrad looked at each other with so much remorse.

"I love Jere. So much, Conrad" You whispered. "Last summer I realized I liked Jeremiah even if he's been my best friend my entire life. Seeing Jere and Bells kiss with Steven, I couldn't take that happiness away." You smiled as you wiped your tears, you weren't a drinker so these were your raw emotions, not intensified too much because there was no alcohol intake.

Conrad seemed to go more silent hearing that Jeremiah and Belly kissed, as if not knowing that already. It was a reminder that Belly couldn't choose. You looked at him as if apologizing for bringing it up.

"Conrad," You called out, "I wanna keep fighting for this house but I don't know how much more all of us can take if it's causing this much damage," You said truthfully as your tears were falling harder. Conrad was crying as well, his head held low before pulling you into a hug.

You two were somewhat the same. Bottling things up, though Conrad got the bigger blow. You hugged Conrad tightly as you sniffled, continuing what you were saying.

"I just had to be there for you both," You mumbled. "You are here," Conrad mumbled. "You are, you really are." Conrad said in a shaky tone, not knowing how else to comfort you. Not knowing if what he was doing for you was helping you feel better.

You didn't want Belly to be alone but the one person that needed someone, knowing that Conrad would go after Belly, you knew no one would be there for Jeremiah.

Conrad pulled away as you wiped your tears. Conrad wiped his away as he patted your head. "Go after Belly," You told Conrad. You pointed to his chest.

"I already know you will." You smiled at him as Conrad nodded. Everyone rarely saw you cry. You knew that you had just let it all go to Conrad, but knew that he had something to take care.

Conrad nodded as he slowly walked away from you, leaving you there to wipe your tears away in hopes that they would be gone. You took a deep breath before walking back into the beach house, the strobing lights still seen through the house's windows since the curtains seemed to not be covering any part of the windows.

You looked through the crowd, trying to find Jeremiah amongst the people dancing and drinking. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes always made you cringe, you and Cam always got along pretty well when it came to parties because you two didn't drink.

You didn't drink specifically because your mom died due to a drunk driver. You didn't want to be that way, and there would come a time when you would finally drink.

You saw spray painting on the wall, people breaking windows and tables as you shook your head, moving past people who were shoving you left and right.

Finally though you found Jeremiah standing against a wall with a red cup already in his hands. You were in front of him as he looked down at you with the same angry expression he showed Conrad.

He was ready to leave, pulling his weight off of the wall as he turned away from you. You grabbed his wrist quickly, making him accidentally drop the red cup in his hand, spilling the drink on the ground.

Jeremiah tried his hardest to hold back his anger, you being his best friend he couldn't be mad. Not at you completely. You looked up at him as he turned around, his eyes still averted away from yours.

"Can we talk?" You asked him, loud enough to go past the loud music that was playing.

"I don't see a reason," Jeremiah said as you bit the inside of your lip and held his wrist harder.

"Then you don't need a reason but I have one." You said as Jeremiah finally looking at you. The reason he didn't want to look at you was because he saw you crying on Conrad.

He knew the reason why you were crying and it was because of him. He knew that too well that he was the one that made you cry, yet he couldn't comfort you and say that it was okay.

Jeremiah pulled his wrist away from your strong grip before walking outside with you, to the beach, a different part of it since Belly and Conrad were talking as well.

You followed after him, as you stared at the back of his head before he finally stopped when you both reached your favorite log on the beach. He turned around as he stared at you with a look of anger still.

"If this is about what I said to Conrad, I'm not taking it back." Jeremiah said.

"Jere you didn't have to say all of that-" "He asked for my blessing, Y/N" Jeremiah started getting riled up, already feeling that anger was bottled up inside of him.

"Yes he did, but he needed someone, he needed his brother and this summer you guys have been butting heads indirectly but things were getting better," You said as had your hands out, you trying not to get teary eyed. Yes you were defending Conrad because he was in the right, but you wanted Jeremiah to know that too.

"Since when were we getting better?" Jeremiah asked as he scoffed, laughing a bit because it was unbelievable to him. "He took Belly away from me. I had to watch him and Belly together. I thought of all people you would know how lonely I was because I was there for my mom when no one wasn't." Jeremiah said, his voice partially raising.

You felt your heart ache as your tears were starting to become visible but you wiped your face while Jeremiah was looking away. You didn't know. How else to tell him. How else could you possibly comfort him?

"Jere," You called out, "I'm here," Was all that could slip out.

"Where were you then? When were you here?" Jeremiah asked as his eyes were tearing up, his eyes seeming to get rid of the anger slowly but it was evidently still there.

"You always comforted everyone else before you came and checked up on me. You ran after Belly when her and Conrad fought at my mom's funeral. MY MOM'S funeral. You told me that you would always be there for me first, you liar." Jeremiah pointed to his chest, as he was hitting his chest with his fingers as he was saying that.

You hated it. Seeing him in so much pain but you were in pain as well. "Jere, I tried to take care of everyone and I'm sorry. I swear I came to check up on you first you're twisting the story," You said, trying to stay calm, while Jeremiah was raising his voice at you.

"You know what, whose side are you on?" Jeremiah asked as he put his hands on his hips, turning his body as he was now rejecting looking at you.

"I saw Conrad hugging you," "Jere are you seriously doing this right now-" "Doing what? Watching you be comforted because you're what the girl version of me and Conrad combined? Bottling shit up and then acting like it's okay? Yet you don't even go and run after me?"

"You aren't making any sense Jere why are you blaming me for that thing specifically?" You asked as you put your hand on Jeremiah's but he pushed you away once again, like he did back there during his argument with Conrad.

"Don't fucking touch me." Jeremiah said with a rough voice. "Whose side are you on." Jeremiah asked as you bit your lip.

You clenched your fists, "What do you even mean Jere?!" You finally yelled which took him aback. You looked away as your chest was heaving.

"When was I here? I've been here the entire time! Being in the middle of you and Conrad. The middle of you and Belly. The middle of you three!" You yelled as you stepped towards him, you pointing your finger on his chest as you were pushing him with it.

"I was there even if I was in pain too. With my mother's death at the beginning of last summer, then Susannah was next. You don't see it do you?" You asked as your tears were falling uncontrollably.

"You needed someone and when you say no one was there for you I watched you miserably. I watched you and felt invisible. You focused on Belly so much when you guys had a thing and I had to act like I was okay with that." You laughed but it mixed with crying too.

"I tried so hard to continuously fix things. Every time Belly had a conflict with Conrad or you I would be there for her. Every time you felt so alone I was there. I was there for each and every one of you and yet you're asking me where I was?!" You yelled.

"Y/N-" Jeremiah said as he took your finger off of his chest and held your hand but you pulled your hand off of him. "I get how much Belly effected you. How much you love her," You said as you knew the next words that you were about to say were fucked up. You knew that you shouldn't put yourself before others.

"I love you Jere," You said, in hopes that he would return the feelings. Yet you knew. You knew that you two made a promise to one another that you would never fall for each other.

There was complete silence, the silence killing you but Jeremiah was taking time to process. The processing ended up stopping, but the next words that Jeremiah said towards you were words that you wished he would never say to you, but he did.

"I can't fucking believe you, Y/N" Jeremiah said as he had a face of disgust. An expression he never had towards you but to others. You saw the way he looked at you, the way that you wished he hadn't.

"So that's it," You said as your breath hitched before your next words came. "You and I were about to kiss, obviously getting even closer during this whole week and you say that to me," You said as Jeremiah looked away.

"That was a mistake," Jeremiah said as your lips quivered, tears falling harder. "I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted to kiss someone." Jeremiah lied, but you didn't know that. Jeremiah knew that he didn't want to hurt you if he was still in love with Belly.

"You wanted to kiss someone?" You asked as Jeremiah nodded. "I love Belly." Jeremiah said straightforwardly. "We promised each other that we wouldn't."

"Fuck- promises are meant to be broken!" You yelled. "Can't you make an exception just this once? That you can love me somehow? The way I love you?" You asked, begging for Jeremiah to somehow look at you the way he always has.

The one time that you finally break, after being so worn out with being the therapy friend, the friend that everyone could depend on but at your lowest moments you could only depend on Susannah and Laurel.

Susannah was gone and that impacted you too but you knew that if you compared it to the pain that Jeremiah and Conrad felt, it would be selfish. That the mother figure that replaced your mom when she passed, was now gone and the last mother figure you had was Laurel.

"I can't fucking look at you." Jeremiah said, his breath shaky. "I can't believe you." Jeremiah said as he started walking past you. You didn't watch him leave, as you stood there, still in front of your favorite log that you two would always have heartfelt conversations on.

Before he could walk away completely, you turned to him. "You can't just leave it at that!" You yelled before Jeremiah stopped. You sobbed as you begged for him one more time, wanting his answer to change.

"Yes I can." Jeremiah said as he turned around, his eyebrows knitted. "I can say that I can't." Jeremiah said, his voice shaky because he was afraid. Afraid that he was losing you now too and it was because of the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You walked up to him and tried your hardest but still he pushed you off of him. He would never treat a girl like this, ever. Yet it seemed like you were a different case. He wanted to get away from you.

"Just- Just get away from me alright?!" Jeremiah yelled which made you stop. You froze and as you did, Jeremiah ran his fingers through his hair before his tears fell as his breath was hitching too.

You watched as he sobbed, his emotions seeming to stir in the pot but with each new ingredient in there, it was the wrong ones every time. You reached out to Jeremiah, but your efforts were short as he finally decided to leave.

This time you didn't go after him. As much as you tried to comfort him, he still walked away without turning back even if your cries were heard. You had tried to hug him, knowing that was always the solution but this time, that solution was last place.

You fell to your knees as you sobbed out, wishing that the conversation ended on a high note but it didn't. Your heart ached before you felt everything suddenly get blurry and shaky. Due to the many emotions you were feeling everything had gone black.

NEXT MORNING

The sun was shining over Cousins beach. The next morning came and everyone at the party was gone. The guests were gone at least except the mess that was left behind.

You felt your breath catch in your lungs before waking up when you felt the glare of the sun hitting your body. You woke up, getting up from the sand on the beach.

"Did I really sleep here?" You asked before your eyes softened realizing no one noticed you were gone. You were hoping Jeremiah would at least bring you inside or be concerned for you seeing that you didn't come inside later that night.

You had your hands on the sand before standing up, your legs feeling numb because of the emotions that were still hitting you right as you wake up.

You walked off of the beach and into the beach house, seeing that the door was wide open, before realizing Laurel's car was there in the driveway.

You blinked before you realized. You ran inside but was met with Belly walking out of the house. Belly was holding her cheek. "Bells?" You called out as held her arm, trying to stop her. She hugged you tightly, her tears falling onto your shoulder.

You were shocked seeing the amount of tears coming out of Belly's eyes. You held the back of her head as you hugged her tightly before she pulled away and walked out to the beach.

You watched as she left, your breathing on double time before walking inside knowing that she needed space. You saw Laurel there, with Steven, Conrad and Jeremiah.

Steven told Laurel that Belly and the rest of the kids were at least here for Susannah's boys while Laurel was absent. After hearing Laurel already knew about the house being up for sale. Everyone walked away from Laurel and apparently you now. Jeremiah didn't bat an eye at you, covered in sand.

Laurel looked over to you before you looked away. "I'll start cleaning up," You whispered. "Belly needs her mom right now." You whispered before grabbing a trash bag, feeling somewhat small as you started to clean the place.

It was an hour or two later that Laurel announced that she would fight for the house and talk to Julia about it. Everyone was thankful for Laurel, glad that Belly reached out to her mom.

You kept your distance from everyone as you felt invisible and sad again. You looked at Jeremiah a few times but he never looked at you. He really did mean that he wouldn't look at you at all.

Julia finally arrived and as the kids were cleaning up, Laurel pulled Julia aside talking at Susannah and her's favorite spot.

You continued to clean up as Belly came over to you with Taylor. "You okay?" Belly asked, her hand on your back. You didn't know that Jeremiah and the others were also listening in as well.

"Yeah, just a little tired." You told Belly. "Jere and I had a big argument last night." You smiled sadly. As Belly pulled you aside along with Taylor and Skye who seemed to tag along, Steven looked over at Jeremiah.

"What happened?" Steven asked Jeremiah who was scrubbing the wall, trying to get the spray paint off of it. Jeremiah shook his head. He knew if he thought about it then he would've said the wrong things somehow.

"Nothing," "Well it doesn't seem like nothing Jere. Taylor and I watched the whole thing. I wanted to punch you so badly seeing the way you made her cry." Steven said as Conrad awkwardly listened, still on the silent treatment with Jeremiah.

Steven put down his trash bag as he made Jeremiah stop too. "I get it. We've all been through a lot of shit man but I know damn well that you love Y/N. More than Belly." Steven said as Jeremiah looked away.

"I don't." "You really are an airhead like they all say." Steven chuckled before making Jeremiah face him.

"You may think that taking the easier option is better but the better option will always be there for you and if I'm going to be honest it's Y/N. You said it so yourself. Belly will always have something for Conrad. There's someone though waiting for you." Steven said since Conrad left the room. Jeremiah looked up at Steven as Steven was awkwardly smiling.

"I.." Jeremiah said before his shoulders fell, "I fucked up so badly," Jeremiah said as Steven agreed.

"Well yeah. Can't say that I don't agree with you cause I do." Steven laughed as Jeremiah nodded.

"I..I don't know. I just don't know." "Well you gotta know somehow. All the things you said weren't her true intentions and even you know that when you start to regret what you said. She's always been there for you. Through everything. Of course she would love you dude. It isn't hard to love someone like you. Especially her. She always finds a reason." Steven reassured as Jeremiah's eyes teared up.

"Do you think she'd forgive me? For the things I said? I've never in my life spoke to her like that. I've never said such harsh things to her and yet in that moment it felt that that was the only thing that I could do." Jeremiah explained, his obvious regret showing.

"Give it a day or two. You'll probably realize it more." Steven patted Jeremiah's shoulder. "What you said was fucked. Even I would be hurt if someone said that to me." Steven said, not trying to blame Jeremiah but he knew that the two would push through.

Jeremiah paused for a bit before nodding. He knew that he had to do something somehow. He knew if he wasn't there for you the way you were there for him, then no one would be. Hearing that you slept on the beach, eavesdropping and everything no one came to come get you.

Jeremiah knew that as a best friend he should've been there for you. To carry you inside despite being so mad at you. He knew that he put his emotions first. Who knows what could've happened. He wasn't there for you the way you were there for him.

Those thoughts of what he said to you last night started to course through his mind. He winced at the thought of everything as Steven went to go clean more.

He would give it a day or two, in hopes that he would realize it all.

That he needed you, and loved you the way you did.

Taylor was currently giving you a hug as you tried your best not to cry. You stayed so strong up until now but again, you were a carbon copy of Conrad and Jeremiah combined. Belly and Skye were rubbing your back as you cried.

You hated the words that Jeremiah said towards you. Taylor had heard it all with Steven and explained everything to Belly and Skye for you so that you didn't have to.

You closed your eyes, hoping that all of this was a bad dream. Hoping that what Jeremiah said wasn't meant. Your chest kept on going up and down quickly. You were hiccuping as your walls crashed down.

You hoped that the house would be in the possession of the boys. You knew though that you didn't want to be a part of it anymore. You told yourself as you were being comforted, that this would be your last summer at the Cousin's house.

THE NEXT DAY

As you all were wrapping things up, Conrad and Jeremiah had a heartfelt conversations the night before. It seemed that everything was able to be fixed yesterday except things with you and Jeremiah.

You of course included yourself in helping Conrad study for his test in Brown to get into Stanford. Everyone was all for it, especially Belly. Yesterday evening was the last time you saw Julia and Skye for now.

After being able to convince Jeremiah and Conrad's dad about selling the house they had in Boston, things started to get good from there.

The morning came around and things needed to finish up. With the house not being on the market, everyone needed to go home and would be able to come back whenever they'd like and whenever everyone had free time.

You smiled as you were saying goodbye to Laurel. While the others were saying goodbye to one another, you wanted to talk to Laurel first.

"Thank you so much Laurel for everything that you've done up to this point." You said as you were holding her hands. Laurel smiled as she looked at you. You looked back at her, and the obvious eye bags were under your eyes.

"I heard what happened between you and Jeremiah," Laurel said as she gave you a hug. "Thank you so much for being here for everyone. We'd love to see you here again next summer or this summer if anything." You softened up in Laurel's hold before holding onto her and smiling.

"I'll think about it," You said as Laurel nodded. Laurel slowly pulled away as everyone started getting into their cars. You ended up actually driving here, so you didn't have a problem taking your time getting home. You took a good look at the Cousins house.

You weren't ready to leave yet, as everyone was talking about when they would next be all together. Everyone was saying the fourth. You looked at everyone in the group before smiling and humming.

"Yeah, I'll be available whenever." You chuckled as you started waving goodbye to everyone. "I'm gonna stay here for a bit longer. Conrad tell me how the test goes. Tell us everything," You smiled as Conrad nodded, with a content smile.

"See you whenever, Y/N" You nodded as everyone seemed to be driving out of the driveway. You didn't notice that Jeremiah actually stayed behind, instead of driving off in his brother's car. Conrad ended up leaving without Jeremiah.

You had your back turned, oblivious to Jeremiah staying behind as you walked into the Cousin's house, going to the pool as you dipped your feet in the cold water.

You heard the door open and looked back seeing Jeremiah was there, his hands in his pockets as he looked over at you, sitting on the ledge of the swimming pool.

You slowly looked away, still kicking your feet gently. Jeremiah slowly sat next to you, dipping his feet in the water with yours. It was silent for a good minute as the awkward silence was sitting there with you two as well.

Jeremiah was the first to break the silence, as he looked at you slowly, seeing that you were watching your feet kick in the water that you were now used to since they have been in there for at least a minute.

"Let's talk?" He asked as you tensed up a little before shaking your head. "I don't see a reason to." You snapped back, repeating his words from last night. To your surprise though, Jeremiah said the exact same thing that you had said to him too. You both switched placed though.

"Then you don't need a reason but I have one." Jeremiah whispered which made you stop kicking your feet. You slowly looked over at Jeremiah, your eyes already teary eyed. Jeremiah stared at your hurt filled eyes as he winced seeing how drained you looked.

Jeremiah reached up as he cupped your cheek gently, but you pulled away a bit. Jeremiah still tried though, holding both of your cheeks as he took a good look at you.

"No," Jeremiah whispered. "Don't pull away," You shook your head more as you held onto Jeremiah's wrists, wanting to shove his hands off of you but you knew that if you didn't want to do that truly.

"But you did," You told Jeremiah as you continued to look at his ocean eyes. "You pushed me away," Jeremiah nodded.

"I know I did, and I'm sorry Y/N." Jeremiah said as he wiped away the tears that were streaming down your cheeks as they were coming down.

"You didn't eat today or yesterday. You haven't slept either. I saw you were still awake even when everyone else was sleeping." Jeremiah said as he put his thumb gently under one of your eyes, seeing the obvious eye bags that already grew.

"It's hard to when you're mad at me." You admitted. "I didn't think you would have noticed me at all since you said that you couldn't look at me," You looked away as Jeremiah's eyes softened.

"Everything with Conrad, I resolved all of it. We told each other that we would talk things out as they come and not let them linger." Jeremiah admitted towards you.

"Things with Belly..I already knew that I don't love her that way. That there will always be a better option for me and..Y/N that's you." Jeremiah said, trying to convince you that the words he said to you a night ago was wrong.

You continued to look away as Jeremiah was the one speaking this time. "I do love you too. In the way that a best friend does but the way that a lover does too." Jeremiah said as he slowly let go of your cheeks, grabbing hold of your hands that he noticed were shaking, seeing your body tremble as well.

He could still see the silent cries you were giving and he knew that instead of being jealous of others that he'd rather be there for you than watch you crying in someone else's arms.

You stayed silent as you listened to Jeremiah, still trying to register everything. "I know..it's hard to forget what I said. But I'd rather say this and take back all of the words." Jeremiah held your hands still, trying to stop them from shaking as he kissed your hands gently.

He closed his eyes, "I'm so sorry for the way I talked to you. I'm sorry for making you cry. I'm sorry for blaming you and lying to you that it was a mistake." You started to sob but Jeremiah didn't stop.

"I'm sorry for pushing you away and thinking you're invisible..you aren't. I needed someone and Belly couldn't be there for me because she was always with Conrad the most. I'm sorry for forgetting about you." Jeremiah's voice started to become shaky, starting to get emotional as he continued.

"I'm sorry for never realizing how much I loved you, Y/N." Jeremiah stopped when you took your hands off of Jeremiah's hands. With this, Jeremiah thought that you were going to get up and leave but you had your hands on his chest, pushing him gently.

Jeremiah looked up at you as you looked at him, hiccuping as your voice finally came out. "Stop," You whispered as you punched him gently, "Just kiss me already," You begged as Jeremiah's eyes widened.

Jeremiah put his forehead on yours as he watched you start to calm down, feeling how close he was to you. Jeremiah gently, hesitantly grabbed your cheek.

"I want to kiss you, I really do." Jeremiah said as your noses touched, booping one another's. "Out of all the people, it was always you." Jeremiah said before his lips hit yours.

Your body stopped trembling, as you melted into the kiss that Jeremiah had given you. Your first kiss was with your best friend. This was Jeremiah's millionth kiss probably but to you, this was the kiss you wanted it to be with.

You kissed Jeremiah, wrapping your arms around Jeremiah's neck as you pulled him closer.

He pulled you closer by the waist as he held you tightly, not wanting to let you go. You pulled away for a second before reconnecting your lips together with his.

Jeremiah tucked some strands of your hair behind your ear, feeling his chest was about to explode because of how much his heart was beating double time.

No one else could make both of you feel this way, both of you knew that for sure as you felt sparks. As Jeremiah slowly pulled away, Jeremiah stared into your eyes as he smiled softly, seeing how out of breath you were.

"The tears are gone." Jeremiah pointed out as he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You pressed your lips against his curly hair, closing your eyes slowly.

Jeremiah looked up at you again, pulling away a bit from the hug. He connected his lips with yours again, kissing you was so easy to him it seemed.

You kissed him back instantly, smiling in the kiss because you felt better. You felt that things really were going to be okay with Jeremiah. Jeremiah pulled away this time, staring at your lips before pecking it gently with a smile.

Jeremiah rubbed your back gently before getting up and helping you up as well. Jeremiah held your hands before sitting down on one of the beach chairs with you. He put you on his lap gently, having you face him.

You had your hands on his shoulders, having some support as you stared into his eyes.

As you two were silently looking at one another, the silence was broken when both of you said at the same time,

"I love you," You and him stared at each other before laughing softly together.

"Let's stay here for a bit, then I'll come over and sleep over." Jeremiah said as you nodded.

"I'd love that, a lot." You said as you pushed all of your weight on Jeremiah's as he laid on the beach chair with you on top of him.

Jeremiah kissed your forehead gently, having his arms up as a arm pillow.

Jeremiah closed his eyes as he smiled softly. "Me too,"

[chateautae]

to turn a bad thing good | jjk. I

➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

➵ pairing: ceo!jungkook x law student!f. reader

➵ genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating: 18+

➵ word count: 13k

➵ warnings: swearing, loads of angsty arguing, sEXUAL tension, mentions of sexual content

➵ a/n: YAYYY it's here!! thank you endlessly to everyone who has loved, supported, and anticipated this series ever since I announced it. i’m grateful for  your patience and hope you enjoy this first chapter. I have so much in store 🥺 pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3 

chapter one: “i’ve been to someone’s tomorrow”

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“Hello! Don’t you two dare get couply with me, I’m having a mid-life crisis!” 

 “Dude, you’re only 23, this isn’t a mid-life crisis, just a fucking crisis, goddammit.” 

 Jungkook scoffs derisively at Kim Taehyung’s curt voice over the phone. He rolls his eyes, knowing full well that his ride-or-die, lifelong friend is much more interested in indulging his wife right now. He’s happy for the man, he truly is, but Jungkook’s life is currently on the brink of destruction. 

 And he goddamn needs some sympathy. 

 “Hey Jungkook, it’s me.” Jungkook feels blessed to hear Taehyung’s wife on the phone, a much more kindred soul compared to his broody friend. “Go on, what happened to you? Why do you sound so scared?” 

 God, it’s good to hear that voice. Taehyung’s wife’s concern always sounded so genuine, like she’s handing you a cup of tea and creating a safe space for you to tear out your heart and empty its heft. It’s so goddamn sweet, it makes a person want to spill all their secrets until their soul is cleansed—it’s what makes Jungkook steel himself before relaying what’s happening to him. 

 After attending his friend Jung Hoseok’s club opening last night, he encountered the most enchanting woman he’s ever met. Her alluring eyes, her graceful body and seductive smile caught Jungkook like a Venus flytrap, unable to escape once nipped; but it was her sharp tongue and cleverly sexy mind games that keep Jungkook captive. He found that he enjoyed being captured, enjoyed the sweet pain of her cage and drowning in her nectar despite the poison; it resulted in the most mind-blowing sex of his entire life that night.

 Until he was slapped with the shittiest turn of events. 

 “What’s up, Jungkook? Did something happen with your hookup?” 

 “No, I need to tell you the crisis. So I had mind-blowing sex, yes, but then I woke up a couple hours ago and tell me how I heard my parents talking about getting me an arranged marriage, an arranged marriage for fuck’s sake!” Jungkook grinds his teeth with contempt, the word ‘marriage’ tasting foul on his tongue.

 “What? You’re getting an arranged marriage?” 

 “Yeah, my parents were just talking about it and I’ve been having a mental breakdown for an hour now, what am I supposed to do? I can’t fucking get married.” The very thought has been clawing at Jungkook’s stomach ever since. Marriage? Monogamy? Having his freedom stripped away? 

 He may actually turn green and throw up his stomach contents. 

 Jungkook has always been far from what most people expected a rich kid in Seoul to be. Devil-may-care, disobedient, allergic to responsibility. The word itself could make a disease break out in his blood, appalled by anything that demanded more than a night of fun or partying—it threatened his formula of escapism.

 Ever since Jungkook was old enough to grasp his family’s affluence, he’s had tradition, discipline and business politics rammed down his throat. The sheer force of it trained him to have an acute disgust for anything resembling it, resulting in a “troubled” child that rarely followed what his parents desired. 

 It was not his fault his father owned one of the largest gaming companies in Korea, on track to raiding the American markets and introducing a global name for Jeon Entertainment. It was not his fault he was his father’s child and his first born son, burdened with the responsibility to inherit the company from the moment he drew his first breath. It was not his fault he carried the weight of a thousand expectations of who he should be. 

 It was all decided for Jungkook. He had no say in the matter, no method to refute his prominence. No, he’d been forced to bid his parent’s wishes, unable to live a life of his own. So what did Jungkook do? How did he break out of these confinements and live his intemperate, so-called recalcitrant life? 

 He developed the only method he’d considered most effective; he’d live unapologetically. 

 Tattoos, piercings and partying proved his disobedience. He wouldn’t be the prim, proper son many expected of the Jeon family, adopting what society believed to be a “delinquent” image. Instead of posh ceremonies and frivolous flattering, Jungkook found his tongue down a woman’s throat in a dark bar or worked out until his muscles burned.

 Instead of unsteady politics and people-pleasing, Jungkook traversed every club in Seoul or smoked enough weed to forget the entire events of a weekend. Instead of empty words and fake smiles, he traded them for carefreeness, straight-forwardness, genuineness.

 Some would say Jungkook’s too simple, that he indulges in vices and the finer things in life because he’s too daft to comprehend the complexities of the ways of the world. A notorious playboy who’s only merit appears to be his ravishing good looks and god-like stroke game, but that’s only the image he builds, the persona he carefully curates for outsiders. 

 It’s not that he hides who he truly is, no, he merely goes about life without over-complication, allowing him the freedom he’s been forced to renounce. It’s his plan for the rest of his life; take as much control of it without giving a fuck about others, and he’ll always be happy. 

 It worked for as long as he was smart enough to understand people, to understand his indulgences and pleasures. But when Jungkook overheard he was being shoved into an arranged marriage, distaste was too light a word—he was filled with absolute loathing. 

 This is a complete fuck-up to his plan. 

 “Shit, you’re only 23, too, why would they be marrying you off?” 

 “I don’t know, I heard something about how she’s the daughter of some what-its-face CEO that our family knows.” Jungkook relays with a hard swallow, clutching his phone in his hand so hard his knuckles must be white. He gazes upon the horizon before his eyes in the early morning, brimming with an orangey hue that bathes the gorgeous skyline of Seoul, its light rays dancing across the Han River. 

 It rids Jungkook of the nausea climbing up his throat, threatening to hurl over his balcony. “I’m gonna throw up. I can’t do this, marriage is literally my kryptonite and I can’t get married, I can’t. What if the girl’s some stuck up brat? What if I hate her? Oh God.. what if she’s some goody two-shoes? What if-”

 “Shh, Jungkook, calm down.” Jungkook took a deep breath at the sound of Taehyung’s wife’s voice—he knows he’s losing it. “Look, I know it sucks and you didn’t agree to this, but maybe the girl won’t be so bad? Maybe you’re being matched because-oh fuck, Kim Taehyung, don’t you dare put your mouth there right now.” 

 “What? I can’t have my breakfast, thought I’d at least have a snack.” 

 Of course, this is what Jungkook should’ve expected to hear after he saw Taehyung and his wife nearly fucking each other on the dancefloor at Hoseok’s club last night. They were ravenous, practically impossible to not stumble upon and find either devouring each other with their eyes, one sitting in the other’s lap or lips passionately glued to one another. 

 Part of him envied their love and intimacy, but he's more glad the two seemed to be jolly again after the fight they’d been having for weeks. And as much as he’d love to hear the lovebirds go at it this morning, his patience was running thin. “Ugh, could you guys not get disgusting in front of me? I’m still having a fucking crisis here.”

 “Right.. right, Jungkook.” 

 “Jungkook, dude, look. Arranged marriages aren’t even that bad, look at how mine turned out.” 

 “That’s because your wife is literally perfect, you asshole.” Jungkook grits—he’s telling the truth. His friend’s wife was possibly the prettiest woman inside and out he’s ever seen. She’s kind-hearted, head-strong, and even has these adorable doe-eyes that could charm any man. It’s no wonder his friend fell so hard for her, he couldn’t blame him. 

 Jungkook harboured strong feelings of admiration for Taehyung’s wife—of a Seoul rich kid able to defy the status quo and live for herself. 

 His friend’s wife was a tale often heard and discussed; the daughter of famous architect and CEO Min Namhyun, running away from the family to pursue her dreams on her own two feet. While it wasn’t an exact replica of Jungkook’s tale, it was still a distant cousin. Someone who despised the closed quarters of a suffocatingly rich family, the disarming responsibilities, the soul-crushing pressure. 

 Jungkook could only hope he’d escape it like his friend’s wife did, but this marriage tosses him right back to square one. 

 “I mean, I can’t argue with that.” His friend boasts over the phone, tugging Jungkook back into reality. 

 “Fucking hell, you guys are just a special case, too. And it’s only because your wife is literally so perfect, and caring, and cute, and cool, not to mention a ride or die. I mean, who the fuck throws a right hook like her? And for your sorry ass? She’s literally the epitome of wifey material, hot and sexy-” 

 “Jeon, shut the fuck up before I personally murder you.” 

 “I mean, he isn’t wrong. I’m pretty cool. I also have nice eyes, don’t I? Not to mention my plushy lips? And my cute height, too, Mr. Kim?” Jungkook had to bite back his laugh, remembering when Taehyung became uncharacteristically timid and told all their friends three things he liked about his new wife. His marriage was still fresh after the initial arrangement then, just two strangers forced into matrimony, but even Jungkook knew there was something special between the two of them. 

 It was obvious; something warm and kindred in the way his friend looked at his wife that indicated his heart was meant to belong to her. 

 Jungkook knew his story wouldn’t be the same fairytale. 

 “You’re so sweet, Jungkook. You’re like the perfect package, all endearing but then you have muscles like that too? Do you work out?”

 Jungkook nearly blushed, flattered by the compliments. He’s seconds from adding to the joke before Taehyung’s so-calm-it’s-scary voice rippled through the phone.

 “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Princess. You’re naked right now, and I have access to every inch of your body. Want me to touch you while he’s on the phone? Let him hear the way you moan for me? Maybe give him a sneak peek of what happened last night? All I remember is you digging your nails into my back and riding me until-” 

 “Okay, Tae, shut up! God, you’re so annoying.” 

 Jungkook heard Taehyung bellow out a laugh, and he couldn’t help but be a shit-disturber like always, their happiness contagious. “Damn, Tae, I’m gonna get turned on over here, you know I have a voyeurism kink. Invite me over next time you’re going at it, I like watching my porn live-” 

 “Jungkook, you’re dead to me. Goodbye.” 

 “Wait, wait! I’m serious, Tae. What do I do about this goddamn marriage?!” 

 “Suck it up and marry the damn girl, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably not even that bad, if anything I feel bad for her, you’re the asshole, Jungkook.” Taehyung snips back. “Watch you end up falling in love with her, I’m gonna be there to say I told you so.” 

 “But-!” And Jungkook’s cut off, left to stare at his phone. He resists the urge to toss it over the railing and let it plummet to the ground, its pieces scattering everywhere until they’re eventually dust. How hilarious; that sounds a fuck-ton like Jungkook’s ravaged freedom right now, his goddamn autonomy, his sovereignty. 

 What happened to Jungkook’s rights? Why can’t his parents respect the goddamn progressive state of the world and just let him live?

 The things he’s fought to preserve ever since he was a kid, the things he valued more than anything else, gone with the wind just like his right to choose. He knew there was no fighting this one either, no manner of escape he couldn’t accomplish without completely destroying his family. 

 And despite what many want to believe about him, Jungkook isn’t selfish. 

 He can’t choose himself without damning others, so he swallows down his pride, his anger, his instinct to defy, and marches back into his room. He tosses away his shirt and strips off his dress pants, left to crawl into his bed and marinate in what the fuck he’s going to do. 

“Avatar is literally one of the best movies ever.” 

 “Crap. The best movie ever is Inception and you know it.” 

 “Oh please, you’re just trying to be edgy. You’re the same guy who hates on Silence of the Lambs for the fuck of it.” 

 “Not my fault I’m not into serial killers who skin their victims and wear them.” 

 You snort as you whack your best friend Taeksu in the bicep, giggling into your martini. “Admit it, you just like to be different.” 

 “What can I say, I’m a one of a kind guy.” 

 Taeksu’s full-of-it smirk makes you bop him in the shin, earning an overly-exaggerated exclamation of pain from him. You roll your eyes as you request a refill on your martini from the gorgeous bartender who hasn’t been discreet with his few-too looks in your direction and his sexy lop-sided grin. You send him a lascivious one in return, drinking up his bulky muscles and square jaw you ache to kiss. 

 “Hello, earth to Y/N?” Taeksu flails his hand in front of your face, earning a scoff from you. 

 “Why are you interrupting my game, loser? What the hell do you want?” 

 “I asked how your final essay for contract law is going.” Taeksu bites back with the same attitude, swirling around his Whiskey before downing it. “Forgive me for goddamn asking, you idiot.” 

 “Says you.” You retort, narrowing your eyes at him. He stares right back, challenging you with his formidable eyes, though not threatening in the least. 

 That was the thing about your best friend Cho Taeksu, his eyes told everything. Their stunning shade of hazel with green flecks made his gaze appear soft and light no matter the situation, and never allowed you to take the man seriously. 

 It’s what made you two such a great pair; both of you didn’t take anything seriously. You’d discovered your similar laissez-faire approach to life when you met the snot-nosed kid at the age of 8. 

 You stumbled upon a young Taeksu lounging in his bedroom rather than enjoying the bustling party his parents were throwing downstairs. He was wearing a dapper little button up with his tiny tie a little off-center, sniffling away his allergies. His light-brown hair was mussed and his lips drawn into a pout, annoyed with his constant sniffling. 

 Your mother had let you wander the Cho mansion earlier, a notion she was comfortable with considering the Cho’s were good friends with your parents. 

 Taeksu was playing with a model car, imitating the sounds of a roaring engine as he knocked over a tower of wooden blocks. His room appeared as cool as an 8-year-old’s room could; a gigantic lava lamp in the corner, a car bed with a water mattress, a Nintendo 64 with his very own TV. You’d opened his door further as curiosity plagued you, only for the creak of the cherrywood to alert Taeksu of your presence. 

 Fear gripped you at invading his space; would he be like the other boys that didn’t want to play with a girl? That refused to share their expensive toys with anyone else? That would be mean to you?

 “Are you not having fun?” 

 You tilted your head; what a weird question. “What do you mean?” 

 “At the party, is it not fun?” 

 The boy seemed so… calm, relaxed. He continued playing with his car as you ventured inside his room, timidness overcoming you. “I don’t like these parties. Too many people.” 

 The boy pouted, sighing. “Me neither.” 

 “Won’t you get in trouble by your parents? For being here?” 

 The boy pouted again, jerking his small shoulders up and down as he sniffled. “It’s okay. No biggie. I’m having fun like this.” 

 His lack of care honestly shocked you in that moment, taken by his ability to shut out what others wanted of him and simply pursue something he enjoyed, even if it was merely playing with a toy car. It was a trait of Taeksu’s that remained consistent throughout the 15 more years you’d known him, a trait you’d come to admire. 

 You found that your lives were so similar, so entangled that being best friends was simply fate. That connection extended to your families, your parents such synergistic friends that forging an unbreakable bond was inevitable. 

 It doesn’t hurt that Taeksu isn’t ugly either, no, he’s objectively one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen. His eyes were like rare gems of amber and emerald, a product of his Persian mother, complemented by brown, silky hair and flawless face structure courtesy of his Korean father. The man was a beautiful mix of rarity on his own. His physique was tall but lean, straight teeth that made for a handsome smile, and a kind heart that could ensnare the affections of any woman he set his eyes on. 

 He never really utilized that much around you, though. 

 After staring too hard, you and Taeksu burst into laughter, the alcohol poisoning your bloodstream by now, becoming loose-lipped and loose-limbed. Taeksu also appears slightly flushed, his grin a little too wide indicating that he’s now tipsy, and easily swayed. “So what, haven’t started your essay for contract law yet?” 

 “No, I started. Finished, actually.” You correct yourself, glugging your shot of tequila before sucking on a lime. You let the liquor burn your throat and dizzy your mind, leaning your cheek into your palm against the bar counter. “Why are you asking, anyway? Looking to copy off?” 

 Taeksu snorts. “Please, if I ever copied off you my GPA would drop.” 

 A look of disgust dawns on your features before punching his arm, once again earning his dramatics. “What the hell, Y/N?” 

 “You’re the one doing things to deserve it.” 

 Taeksu shakes his head in disapproval as your drunkenness takes over, slowing your speech. “Why are you even talking about school when that blonde chick over there has been eyeing you for 20 minutes?” 

 You make a light gesture towards the girl’s general direction, Taeksu flitting a glance to indeed find a gorgeous girl smiling at him, confident enough to even wave him a seductive hi. Taeksu scoffs through his smile, wetting his lips before his gaze falls to you. “I don’t remember saying I’m sleeping with someone tonight.” 

 “Well, you should.” You encourage him, clasping his shoulder like he’s your teammate. Indeed that’s what Taeksu always was; your partner in crime, your buddy, your homie. As attractive as the man might be, he’s also the same man that’s seen your absolute worst, and you his. You knew the kid when he thought replicating the movie “How to Eat Fried Worms” was a genius idea and his mother spanked him raw for destroying her microwave with cooked worm. 

 You knew the kid when he vomited all over you during field trips, his motion sickness as persistent as the damn devil. You even knew him when he needed to jump ship on a hookup because his dinner settled terribly in his stomach and he had the runs. You were his saviour that night; you posed as his mother texting him that his aunt had died. 

 Bless Taeksu’s auntie, but it was his most embarrassing moment he refused to tell anyone—save you.

 Suffice to say, Taeksu was and will always be a friend. Your feelings never bloomed beyond that. You could never see him in a romantic light without something foreign crawling through your blood or feeling as though you’re deeply wronging him. 

 The furthest you’d go is sleeping with him, and that would cause nothing but carnage. Your appetite for sex was nothing like his, used to fill a void that haunts your soul—sex could mean absolutely nothing to you but everything to him. You couldn’t risk rousing those feelings inside him nor jeopardizing the future relationship Taeksu could have with the right woman, someone he truly belongs with. 

 It’s what always allowed you to operate like this with Taeksu; best friends, and nothing more. 

 “Why do you think I should?” 

 “Because law school is so stressful, and you need a good fuck to relax.” 

 Taeksu frowns. “Who says I’m stressed?” 

 “Says the damn wrinkles forming on your forehead.” 

 “My what?!” Taeksuk screeches as he snatches his phone and accesses his front-facing camera, examining his forehead—you cackle. 

 “Taeksu, if you stress over the wrinkles, you’ll get even more.” You continue to snicker as Taeksu tells you off, flinging insults and teases he never means at all. Your banter persists for another five minutes before your gorgeous bartender refills your glass without you asking. 

 “Oh, I’m sorry. But my bill’s already quite–” 

 “Bill? It’s on me, love. Every drink has been.” 

 The magnetism of his stare has you believing you’re North and South poles, destined to connect. Your body could feel the buzz his own promised; thick muscles and broad stature, the low timbre of his voice invoking libidinous thoughts. The ghost of his whispers, the heat of his desire, the rough masculinity of his roaming hands… 

 “You look like you’re seconds from orgasming.” 

 Taeksu’s voice makes you cut a side-long glance at him. “And how would you know what that looks like?” 

 “Think I’ve made enough women come to know.” Taeksu sips his Whiskey with a smirk. “But neither of you are being discreet. Are you thinking of sleeping with him?” 

 “Yes, I very much am.” You answer matter-of-factly, your bartender returning to concocting more drinks, but the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he’s in the same boat as you—your foreboding eyes cut to Taeksu. “Is that a problem?” 

 “No,” Taeksu stiffens like he always does, swallowing a little harder than he should. He steels himself, though, draining the rest of his liquor. “But you’re quite drunk. Sober up before sleeping with him.” 

 “Don’t worry, I’m only tipsy, Taeksu.” You drawl, stroking your bottom lip with a seductive finger, eyes only for your bartender. “Like I said, how else do you get rid of stress other than a good fuck?” 

 Taeksu breathes a laugh at your proclamation, nodding. “Like you said about the guy last night. You didn’t tell me much about that.” 

 The simple reminder of last night left tremors through your body, forced to recall the ecstasy of it. All you had in mind was perusing a newly opened club belonging to an infamous chain owned by Jung Hoseok, a man one would call Dionysus himself. His music was spell-binding, his liquor of the finest quality and his circle of people even more delicious. 

 You barely remember the man you’d had inside of you last night, but there wasn’t much room for talking once his lips landed on yours. His roaming hands made fireworks explode in your veins, his touch igniting a burning passion within you. 

 You’d had the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever experienced, a rarity in your usual escapades. The man knew how to touch you, not just that he knew women. He excavated your body, understood your pleasures as though he was a study in what made you tick and utilized it to give you the night of your life. 

 The sheer memory of him made you sweat, shooing away the thought before you longed for something gone. He’d left by the time you’d awakened in your apartment, alone, wondering whether you were angry at him or angry at yourself for expecting something more. 

 “Not much to tell.” 

 “The look on your face says there’s a lot to tell.” 

 You roll your eyes at Taeksu and flick his cheek, your face contorting with teasing. “You definitely need a good fuck; would teach you to stop over-analyzing me.”

 Taeksu chuckles, leaning his elbow against the bar counter. “Whatever you say, loser. Don’t say I never warned you about not being sober tonight, though.” 

 “Noted.” 

 You’re ready to make your move, downing your glass of water before straightening out of your dress and breathing deeply. You face Taeksu and blink rapidly, touching your hair. “Is my hair okay? I’ve been running my hands through it all night.” 

 Taeksu studies you, and it’s the kind of look that could get him in trouble. He gazes like you’re the only woman in the world, that softness shimmering with something indescribable. You swallow at the look, at his hand coming up to your face to softly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb coasts your cheek before he grins, a genuine and sweet one. “Bartender was right to call you beautiful.” 

 You inhale sharply, returning his smile before nodding and propping off your seat. You’re in the middle of banishing the conflicting thoughts Taeksu’s gaze just stirred when your phone begins buzzing on the bar counter, revealing a photo of your mom. 

 “Damn, why is she calling me now?” 

 Taeksu shrugs. “Want me to answer? Could be something important.” 

 “It’s okay, I’ll answer.” You thank him, snagging your phone and accepting her call without a single idea of the reality that’s going to hit you. 

  “You want me to what?” 

 “I want you to come with me on this cruise next weekend, Y/N. We’re meeting some very important people and I don’t feel like going alone.” 

 “But mooom—” 

 “Bidulgi, please. I’d much rather journey on a cruise with my daughter instead of alone.” 

 You sigh listening to the term of endearment your mother used with you. Bidulgi, dove, something she likened to calling you ever since you were four years-old and declared to the world that you wanted to be just like your mother—a lawyer who fights for people’s justice and freedom. She’d taught you that doves symbolized peace, freedom, and love, and wanted you to become not only a lawyer, but someone that emulated those things. 

 You couldn’t resist her when she called you her dove. 

 “Fine, mom. But who are we even meeting? And why is it a cruise? How long are we gone for?” 

 “Just half a week, Y/N. They’ve invited us on a cruise for the day that’ll dock in Hong Kong, and from there they’d like to take us to the Maldives.” 

 “The Maldives?” You squeak in question, absolutely bewildered. “Who the hell is taking us to the Maldives?” 

 “You’ll meet them next weekend. Spend this week packing for the cruise and the Maldives.” You sigh at your mother’s neglect for your life, not even registering how sudden this is.

 “Mom, as much as I’d love to go on a trip, I have school and my internship. I can’t just up and leave for a luxurious vacation.” 

 “Taeksu already told me that you’re ahead in all of your class assignments and merely have studying left. You’ll have plenty of time to study upon the cruise and in the Maldives, and we’ll be back before your exams. As for the internship, considering you’re the daughter of the firm’s owner, I see no reason why you can’t have some time off.” 

 “But mom, you know I love working for your firm—” 

 “That’s final, Y/N. You will accompany me to this meeting. Am I not allowed to spend time with my daughter?” 

 You exhale heavily, shaking your head as you rummage through escape plans from this. You come up short in the end, because is there truly a way? There’s no winning an argument against a lawyer; a task as Herculean as beheading a Hydra. “Fine, mom. What about Jihoon and dad, though? We can’t just leave them.”

 “Your little brother has school, and you know your father’s condition—he won’t be able to join us.” 

 Your mood plummets at the news, refusing to let it damper the rest of your night. “Okay. We’ll talk about this more later, though.” 

 “Good, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Always ask questions before taking any deal.” You breathe a smile at the pride in her tone, her parenting always having been through the lens of a lawyer. As annoying as it could be sometimes, it did have its perks, too. 

 “Bye, mom.” 

 “Take care, nae bidulgi.” 

 Cutting the call, you narrow your eyes at Taeksu. “You knew my goddamn mom was gonna whisk me away to the Maldives? And you didn’t tell me.” 

 “Hey,” he protests, hailing up his hands in surrender. “She told me not to say anything and you know your mom. The woman’s a kickass lawyer for God’s sake, I couldn’t defy her.” 

 Sticking your tongue out at him, you march towards where you last saw your bartender, fed up with the situation—you might as well fuck your mind off it. Unable to locate him, you land on the first employee you can spot, leaning over the counter. “Hey, have you seen that really good-looking colleague of yours? Dark hair? Super buff?” 

 “Ah, you probably mean Hyunwoo. He just went to the back. One of my best guys.” The man flashes you a sunny smile as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting your head at his words. 

 “One of your guys? As in you’re his boss?” 

 “Everyone’s boss, technically. I kinda own the place.” 

 You’re far too tipsy to consider you’re speaking to the Jung Hoseok, having barely noticed him at yesterday’s club opening. You thank him for the information and he tells you it’s no problem, along with what time Hyunwoo gets off work. 

 His information was more than correct, because you ended up finding Hyunwoo after his shift, sticking your tongue down his throat, and letting him shove his hand in your panties as he pressed you up against his car, grinding like two teenagers in heat. He drove you to his place where you both went at it quick and dirty, rough and nasty, left with enough whisker burn to have scratched you raw. 

 Though it was like nothing you had with the man the night before, left with the ghost of him haunting you, and wondering if he’ll ever return. 

  “You want me to what?!” 

 “We want you to take over the company, son.” 

 Jungkook scoffs as anger rages inside him, threatening to boil up all his blood. “You can’t be fucking serious, dad.” 

 “Watch your language, child.” Jungkook’s father rebukes him. “You knew this was coming, son. Why are you so upset? You were always destined to inherit the company.” 

 “But I thought I had time, time to actually want it.” Jungkook argues, exasperated beyond belief. “I’m only 23, dad. You can’t make me run an entire company.” 

 “And who says you can’t?” Jungkook’s mother cuts in, her arms tightly folded across her chest. “Son, your father built this company at 20 years-old, who says you can’t run it at 23? Besides, you’ve always loved games, what’s stopping you now?” 

 “Mom,” Jungkook exhales with a dry laugh, raking his hands through his long hair. “Enjoying games is one thing but running an entire fucking company is another. You can’t just drop this responsibility on me, you can’t!” 

 “Jungkook, you cannot escape this.” His father’s voice grows stern. “You are my firstborn and only son, and you are to inherit my company. There is no negotiating this; I do not care how hard you try to rebel against me or ruin your image. I do not care if you are nothing more than my playboy son who wastes the last half of his brain on partying and drinking, you will inherit my company and embrace my legacy.” 

 Jungkook attempts to hide the disgust on his face, the sting in his heart when his father regards him with such disdain. He’d grown used to his undermining and condescending language since he was a boy, speaking to Jungkook as if he were an obtuse child unable to fill his father’s shoes. 

 This is why Jungkook has always looked the other way, why he’s been fighting for his freedom since the day he understood his fate; disappointing his parents by being the worst was much better than disappointing them with his best. 

 Jungkook’s fist clenched open and closed, remembering to breathe through his fury, to channel it into his fists later when they met the hardness of a punching bag. His head is pounding, his brain computing five million possibilities at once, his body buzzing with the need to rampage. “You’re already forcing me to marry someone, you can’t force me to own your company. You just can’t.” 

 “Yes, I can. And you will.” Jungkook’s father remains unmovable, utterly stubborn. “Do not defy me.” 

 “And what if I ruin your company?” Jungkook venously retorts, jaw tightly locked. “What if I run it to the ground and you lose every precious thing you’ve worked so hard for?” 

 Jungkook’s father smiles grimly, replicating the malice of the Joker himself. “Then you’ll be damning yourself and the rest of our family, son. And I know you’re not so stupid as to jeopardize that. After all, your money has been my money your whole life; what are you to do without the penthouse you live in or the car you drive? The luxuries you bathe in everyday? What of your mother and sister? Will you let them lose everything because of your ignorance?” 

 Jungkook’s mind shatters; this is why his father was doing this. He knew Jungkook would have no choice, knew that his one weakness was always his family, that he’d do anything for them. He was manipulating that love, knowledgeable that Jungkook truly had no choice when sandwiched between these two tragedies. He had to run the company as best he could to support everyone, and failure to do so would result in his worst nightmare. 

 His family destroyed… his sister…

 Jungkook laughs, meek and dry. He’s tired, he’s furious, he feels like tearing everything in this room apart. His chest aches and his brain throbs and his shoulders feel heavy with the weight of so much pressure, like a boulder crushing every tendon inside him. 

 He’s so… so fucking tired. 

 “Fine,” Jungkook grits, barely able to stand. His eyes fill with malevolence as he accusingly points at his father, his voice taut. “But I am not, and will never do this for you. I’m doing this for Mari… only for Mari.” 

 Jungkook doesn’t even give his father time to rebuttal before he turns his cheek and throws open the door of his parents’ suite, venturing away with white hot rage radiating through his every step.

  “Mom, why the hell are you dressing me up?” 

 “Because, my love, you need to look pretty for this meeting.” 

 You grumble as your mother flocks around you like a wild bird, pestering you about your makeup and hair and outfit and shoes and purse as though you’re meeting the Prime Minister of Korea himself. Her constant blithering is enough to make your eardrums surrender, left utterly exhausted. 

 “Mom, what’s wrong with you? Why are you acting as though this is the most important meeting in the world?” 

 Your mother stiffens for a millisecond before softening, her expression calm and collected. You know the woman spent the better half of her life schooling her emotions as a lawyer, slaying any feelings of anxiety and doubt like a warrior. But the nerves always showed in her eyes, in her hands that sometimes shook, in the entirely unconscious way she’d clean just to distract herself. 

 Right now she was tidying up your entire suite on the cruise, her voice distant. “Nothing’s wrong, Y/N. You know appearances are everything and I just want my daughter to look beautiful.” 

 “Do you mean to say I’m not always beautiful?” 

 It’s only a joke, your light-hearted tone and a small chuckle saying that much, but your mother gasps as though someone has misplaced one of her files. Your mother has always hated when people touched her files. 

 She approaches you with a kind smile as she cradles your cheeks, her eyes sweeter than cotton candy. She’s been so benevolent lately that you’re afraid this may be the calm before the storm, wary of what today really entails. 

 She still refuses to share many details about the meeting today, nor has she informed you of the people part of it. You could be walking into a den of monsters and not know, but she’s your mother—the woman who raised you to be relentless, strong-spirited, a goddess. You’d always trusted her, always let her be your confidant because she offered so much more than just being a mother—she acted as a best friend, a sister, a counsellor even. 

 Even if growing up under her strictness and expectations wasn’t easy, you like to believe she truly molded you into the person you are today. She did what was necessary; polished a rock hard enough until it became a diamond. 

 You trust your mother, so you’ll blindly follow her into this meeting if you have to. 

 “You are the most beautiful woman, Y/N.” Your mother coos, tracing one of the earrings you wear. “You look stunning.” 

 Your lips naturally curl, touched by her love. “I’m only beautiful because I get it from my mother.” 

 She grins, wide and true, but you can’t help but distinguish the lightest regret in her eyes, as though she’s shielding something from you. You want to press her, desperate to understand what’s going on, but you know your mother—whatever it is, it’s for your benefit. 

 Taking a deep breath, you clasp her wrist, bouncing your brows. “Shall we?” 

 She giggles warmly in return, gripping your hand. “We shall.” 

  To say this cruise was beautiful is an understatement, it was absolutely lavish, decadent. Its sheer opulence begged the question of the wealth of whomever you were meeting tonight, only a billionaire’s pockets deep enough to afford this.

 Your mother still opted for secrecy regarding everything tonight, but she informed you of the cruise. One of the most luxurious to sail; it was owned by the man you were both meeting, colouring you 26 shades of impressed. The activities and events on board were enough to spend days on the ship; it was genuinely disheartening to think you’d only be able to indulge until tomorrow. 

 Manuevering across the ship and into a more private, though equally opulent room above the main deck, your eyes widen at the sight beyond the windows. The vast sea offers a soothing sight tonight, the scent of salt water like balm to your soul. The sounds of waves crashing are shut out in this room, though present, threatening to lull anyone who listens too carefully to sleep. 

 You’re so busy admiring the breadth of the ocean that you’re startled by the sound of an older man entering the room, his voice joyful and welcoming. “Bitna, there you are, how great it is to see you!” 

 “Ah, Chinhae, it’s great to see you too!” Your mother lights up with a merry smile, reaching out and embracing the man with familiarity. “Let me introduce you to my daughter, Y/N.” 

 “Well would you look at her, she looks just like you, Bitna.” Chinhae politely compliments, extending his hand for a shake. You meet him in the middle and respectfully bow, plastering on a smile. “Nice to meet you, dear. I’m Jeon Chinhae. I’ve heard wonderful things from your mother.” 

 “Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” You squeeze his hand, soon shooting your mother a reprimanding look. “I’m sad to say my mother didn’t tell me much about this meeting or yourself.” 

 “With good reason, Y/N.” Your mother tuts. 

 “Bitna, how could you? I think you’ve wounded me a little.” Mr. Jeon jokes, causing you and your mother to chuckle. They begin some light small talk as your mind starts to wander, contemplating the significance of tonight’s meeting. 

 What is your mother planning? Considering this man owns this ship means he’s incredibly wealthy; perhaps a politician? Another lawyer? Someone you could potentially work with after you’ve finished law school? But you don’t know of any extravagantly affluent lawyers by the name of Jeon, already familiar with Seoul’s upper echelon of justice representatives. 

 Seoul’s upper echelon… now that gets your gears shifting. He must be a member if he’s in possession of such a lavish vessel and freely offering you and your mother an all-inclusive vacation to the Maldives. 

 You rake your mind for the name Jeon then. It sounds so familiar, a company of sorts often on the news and in stores… ah! Jeon Entertainment. 

 This must be the CEO of Jeon Entertainment, it’s the only viable option. Of course the CEO of a gaming company could afford all of this; the gaming market remains crazy profitable as technology advances, creating new ways for humans to escape their reality and immerse themselves in alternate worlds. 

 “She’s only told me of the wonderful trip you mean to take us on, which we’re very grateful for, Mr. Jeon.” You honestly extend your gratitude as you cut into the conversation; it’s not everyday an illustrious family waves you a free ticket for a vacation in your face. 

 “No need for thanks, dear. I’m certain we’ll be like family on this trip, anyway.” Mr. Jeon smiles kindly, and his words slightly confound you. Like family? Surely if your mom considered the man family, she would’ve told you about him. 

 “Please, Chinhae. Where is the rest of your family? I haven’t seen your wife in far too long.” Your mother laments, causing Mr. Jeon to regretfully exhale. 

 “Ah, she’s with my son. I’m sure they’ll be out soon.” Mr. Jeon kisses his teeth with slight annoyance and swivels around, calling out to the corridor he emerged from. “Jagiya, our guests are here!” 

 You and your mother fall into needless conversation to seem polite as Mr. Jeon nearly stomps his way to the corridor, calling out again. It’s then you hear whispered-yelling, barely coherent but evident. They sound angry and distressed, alerting you that something seems off about this. 

 Mr. Jeon settles as two shadows appear before him. His smile, though fake, rises. “Ah, Bitna, Y/N, let me present my wife and son. Jeon Aecha and Jeon Jungkook.” 

 You’re smiling politely, ready to respectfully bow for the two people that enter the room. What you’re met with is nothing you’d expect; your jaw unhinges the second you lay eyes on a frustrated man venturing into the room as though he’d rather watch paint dry, and his distraught mother trailing behind. 

 Your heart stops, your blood spikes and suddenly every hair on your body rises, unable to fathom…

 This is the exact same man you slept with the other night, the one who absolutely rocked your world.

 And now here he is before you, his eyes widening just like yours. Clearly he’s as shocked to see you, frozen. It takes all but two seconds for shame to dawn on his features, evidently recalling how things were left between you two—he’d run off before you could even wake up, dooming the night to a simple one night stand. 

 Petty anger settles into your bones, once again either hating the man for leaving or yourself for expecting him to stay. You weren’t anticipating much; you’re a woman who stands by one night stands, sex merely something you craved and often got. But you at least expected him to stay until breakfast, to have that awkward but mollifying conversation where both parties either agree to continue the relationship or end things there. 

 And you’d wanted to continue things with this man. He was different, and deliciously good in bed. But no, he didn’t respect you enough to have that conversation, or clearly hated the sex so much that he disappeared like a thief in the night. 

 Looking at his stupid face now, you hate that he did, hate him for leaving you, hate that his skills in bed were so good you’d been reeling for days.

 You decide to toss aside those notions now, forget the fact that you’ve slept with the goddamn CEO of Jeon Entertainment’s son. You could hardly look Mr. Jeon in the eye now, introducing his son as though you didn’t already know what he feels like inside of you. 

 The thought forces you to clear your throat and collect your wits, schooling yourself as you greet who you now know as Jungkook, and his mother. 

 “It’s lovely to meet you.” You say, swallowing down the urge to stare at Jungkook. “What could be bringing our two families together in such a wonderful place? I’ve heard the ship actually belongs to you, Mr. Jeon.” 

 “Ah, yes, it does, dear.” He grins widely. “I’m sure my son would be happy to show you around tomorrow. You’ll be spending quite some time together after all.” 

 You then remember you’re meant to spend this entire vacation with Jungkook’s family, and of course, Jungkook himself. The thought nearly makes your insides coil, forced to be with the same man that left you that night. Still, your mother was friends with this family, and you’d use every available method to hide the true nature of how you know Jungkook in order to preserve niceties. 

 No matter that the fucking heat of his stare from across the room keeps distracting you… fuck. 

 “Of course, the trip to the Maldives. Is there something to be celebrating?” You query, curious as to what occasion there is. Jungkook’s entirely blank face suddenly folds when his eyebrows quirk in confusion, eyes darting towards you. It’s then shock blooms on his features, soon his jaw flexing as he looks away.

 “Oh? Did your mother not tell you about our meeting today?” Mr. Jeon asks, shaking your head as you peer at your mother. 

 “No, she didn’t. Is there something I should know?” 

 Mr and Mrs Jeon then send each other puzzled looks, your mother barely able to meet your eyes. Your confusion only grows, peeking between both hesitant parties. 

 Mr. Jeon then grins politely, speaking carefully. “Ah, Bitna, you didn’t tell your daughter about the marriage between my son and your daughter?” 

 You choke, both literally and figuratively. Your body goes rigid, mind blanketed by a snowstorm. Your very understanding of reality crumbles, chest pierced by a cruel arrow of pain. You glance at your mother, who looks at you with a world of regret, finally understanding why she seemed so off today. 

 This entire time… this entire time she planned on having you married off, and she didn’t tell you? 

 “Mom…” You breathe, ribs threatening to cave in, leaving you bare and naked as you face the people in this room. You feel too vulnerable, too seen, too exposed. “Mom… you-you didn’t tell me?” 

 Your mother smiles with guilt, reaching out for you. “Bidulgi, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to meet the Jeon’s without any judgement.” She coos, coos like she always does, even using that term of endearment with you to sweeten the blow of her words. 

 She planned this… she–she ambushed you with this news, purposefully withheld the information so you had no choice but to agree. You couldn’t rudely reject the marriage in front of the Jeon family, not with them letting you stay on their ship and taking you to the Maldives. Not with their son right here, who’s gone so still you’re certain the man is stone. 

 That’s nothing like you, though. No, you're a whirlwind of emotions; hurt, betrayal, pain, sorrow, betrayal. You feel like you’re living somebody’s life, somebody else’s tomorrow, certain this is all a cosmic joke because this can’t be your life. 

 But your eyes then fall to the woman responsible for this; your mother. Not anyone else’s, yours, meaning this is your life, and it is happening to you. You feel horribly wronged by her; she knew you trusted her, used that trust and manipulated you into a deadlock of a decision. 

 Marriage? Fucking marriage? She wanted you to marry someone, and of all fucking people on Earth, it’s to the man who left your bed as though you were some meaningless rump in the sheets? 

 You’re shaking with anger by the time your mother and Jungkook’s parents begin talking, discussing the most menial of things. Mr. Jeon asks about your father, and your mother gives the usual answer she does. Mrs. Jeon even dares to joke about wedding decorations, her and your mother beginning to discuss which flowers to purchase for the ceremony. 

 They continue to speak freely, acting as though their children they’re forcing to wed aren’t even there, mere pawns to be moved around on their chessboard. You can barely stand now, white hot fury poisoning your blood. To be in the same room as your mother feels akin to burning, the sting of her betrayal more agonizing than any venom. 

 Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, incapable of remaining here, of accepting this. Your embarrassment is gut-wrenching, unbelieving that your mother could do this to you, could leave you looking imbecilic in front of your future fiance’s family—those very words taste wrong in your mouth.

 She was always such a modern woman, forward-thinking and progressive. You would’ve never thought she could do something as old-fashioned as marry her daughter off to a stranger—it seems you were wrong.

 You can’t even breathe anymore, so overcome with emotion that you excuse yourself for a breath of fresh air, fighting to keep the contents of your dinner in your stomach. 

  “Uh… hey.” 

 You whip your head around to find Jungkook hesitantly sauntering onto the deck, shutting the door behind him. You grip the railings of the bow of the ship, letting the sea breeze whisk through your hair. 

 You’d ventured outside to clear your head, to let the unsettling waters of the ocean perhaps distract you from the choppy waves in your own mind. But it’s far from clear now as you watch Jungkook’s eyes dart elsewhere, lodging his hands into his pockets, feet shifting. 

 You despise that your memory of him the other night resurfaces, distraught with how he appears the same; strikingly handsome with a boyish charm that completely contradicts his playboy sex appeal. 

 You could sneak a peek of the tattoo sleeve you knew decorated one of his arms, extending to the back of his hand. His piercings present dangly earrings that glint in the moonlight, his lip ring harkening back memories of its metal against your skin. His hair is longer than your traditional male, falling in soft, slightly wavy strands that frame his face handsomely. A few even curl over his forehead in a comma, a faint undercut adding a hint of roughness to his soft features, his strong brows mesmerizing. 

 You can’t help but scoff, despising yourself for finding him even remotely attractive. He just had to have a Herculean body with delicious muscles that hugged a tall torso, adding insult to injury. Had to have thick thighs and a thick chest and thick shoulders that could carry the entire world. 

 Absolutely unfair. 

 “Well… if it isn’t you.” You snark, ripping your eyes away from the damn traitor. His hesitant behaviour in the meeting earlier indicated that he knew about this marriage before you did, possibly even knew it was to you. “Did you know about this shit? Because if you did, I won’t hesitate to throw you overboard.” 

 You listen to Jungkook scoff, tonguing his lip ring. “Wow, says the girl who told me her name was Yeji before sticking her tongue down my throat the night we met. Nice to meet you by the way, Y/N.” 

 “Please,” you narrow your eyes at him, disgust sprawling all over your face. “I don’t remember you hating it, so stop acting wounded. And you didn’t tell me your name, anyway. I was under the impression we weren’t going to meet again… let alone marry each other.” 

 “Trust me, I want nothing to do with this either. And no, I had no clue my parent’s arranged a marriage until after our… night together. And I just found out it’s to you… of all fucking people.” The last part he whispers to himself, causing rage to simmer within you. 

 “Fuck you; you’re the same person who left my apartment like I was some trollop.” You venomously retort. “I can’t believe I have to marry you of all people.” 

 Jungkook visibly stands down at those words. You hate that your hurt is apparent enough for him to soften, his body less rigid. His eyes shimmer with the lunar rays of the moon, reflecting… sympathy. “Look, I’m sorry I did that, okay. That night was… overwhelming, and I never meant to make you feel—”

 “Forget it, I don’t want your pity.” You spit his way, tightly clutching your shawl over your body. The sea had grown colder, attacking your exposed skin in this thin dinner dress your mother chose. 

 Now you want nothing but to toss it into the ocean. 

 Jungkook sighs deeply as he pinches the bridge of his nose, distress written all over his face. He runs a hand through his hair, lost in his head. “Listen, I know you may hate me, Y/N, but we’ll have to make this work somehow. We have to—” 

 “Are you mad?” You genuinely question, laughing even. “Jungkook, we’re going to pretend like the other night never happened, and we’re not going to get married, end of story. We’re going to march right back into that room and tell our parents that this isn’t happening.” 

 Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh dryly, gesturing towards you. “Are you mad? We can’t fucking avoid this. We have to get married, we have no other choice.” 

 “We do; we simply don’t.” You refuse to budge, tone growing in its malice. “Don’t you see this isn’t going to work? We barely know each other and made a mistake the other night. We are not getting married.” 

 Jungkook’s features contort in disbelief. “We have to, okay? You don’t fucking get it, Y/N. I need to marry you, I have too much riding on this stupid fucking marriage.” 

 A derisive laugh escapes you, unbothered. “And what could you possibly have riding on this marriage? What more could a little fucking rich boy like you need?” Your words cause Jungkook’s eyebrows to furrow, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “Yeah, I did a Google search on you the second I came out here. All you are is a spoiled playboy who’s had his daddy feed him with a silver spoon all his life, what more could you need?” 

 Jungkook locks his jaw tightly, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew you recognized the bruises on his knuckles, the coarseness of his calluses running over your heated skin that night. He clearly boxed or performed some kind of exercise fighting, indicative of the way he squeezes his hands together to no doubt control his anger. He swallows harshly, hard enough his Adam’s apple bobs and draws unnecessary attention to his neck… a sexy neck. 

 Fuck. 

 “Wow, you’re like a fucking angry kitten. Unaware of her size in the world and yet still slashing her claws.” 

 “Shut the fuck up. I am not a kitten.” 

 He breathes a tight laugh as he eyes your height, clearly finding you ridiculous. So what if you’re shorter than him? You are not a docile kitten, you’re a lioness ready to pounce on anyone who fucks with you.

 Jungkook’s cadence is leveled, his voice condescendingly honeyed over as he folds his arms. “We have to get married, little kitten. We just have to, we have no choice.” 

 “Well, I don’t want to marry you.” 

 “And I don’t want to fucking marry you either!” Jungkook suddenly explodes, his eyes wild as emotion overtakes him. “But for fuck’s sake, I have to take over my father’s company! I have to marry someone and prove something to him! I have it the fucking worst, the worst, and yet I’m still trying. I’m still compromising.” 

 “You have it the worst?” Your voice cracks, tears brimming your tired eyes. “I was fucking ambushed by my mother, the woman I trust most in this fucking world! She betrayed me in front of your family, you can’t possibly have it worse than I do!” 

 “Please,” Jungkook laughs, his tone cutthroat. “You did a Google search on me? Well I did one on you, too. You’re the daughter of a wealthy lawyer couple with a famous law firm, you were fed everything on a silver spoon, too. How hard could you have it?” 

 Rage boils inside you, having half the mind to not march over and slap him across the face. He knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing. Indignation becomes your friend, gritting at him. “Says fucking you.” 

 Jungkook appears exhausted now, shaking his head. He sighs again, hands perching onto his hips as he peers up at the inky black sky. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to marry me. You’re the only way I’ll get my parents off my fucking back, so be a doll and just do what you’re told, yeah?” 

 Now’s the time you truly can’t stand the man, approaching him with angry steps to invade his personal space. “Don’t you dare call me a doll, and what? You’re just gonna use me like you did the other night? Leave me once your needs are satisfied?” 

 Jungkook becomes formidable then, shoving himself in your face with mere inches between your heated, angry bodies. You hate that you focus on his height in comparison to yours, large enough that he could easily manhandle you. He towers you, sexily so, and you use every ounce of your strength to fight back your arousal. 

 “If I recall correctly, you’re the one that had four orgasms that night, kitten, so whose needs were really satisfied?” 

 The rumble of his foreboding voice shoots electricity through you, shoving down the urge to remember those four wonderful orgasms he made explode in your body. His words still implant disgust within you, ready to shove the man overboard.

 Jungkook seems to notice the way you swallow, his lips curving smugly, eyes dancing with amusement. “And here I thought you forgot about that night.” 

 You grind your teeth, hating his stupidly gorgeous face and sexy smirk. “Still doesn’t give you the right to use marrying me for your own benefit, you bastard. I want nothing to do with you.” 

 “Like fucking wise, wifey.”

 “Don’t you dare call me that.”

 “Then don’t you dare call me a bastard.” 

 You’re at your limit, hanging on by a fucking thread as Jungkook refuses to drop your gaze. He stares dauntingly, challenging you with his unmoving look. He’s still in your space, the gap between you two small enough to be closed by a single step. Your body reacts stupidly, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

 And something about being burned intrigues you beyond explanation. 

 You huff in his face, shaking your head in controlled fury before shoving past him and marching towards the door, shooting him an alarming death glare. “Mark me, and mark me clearly, you mongrel. I’ll be damned before I wed you and share a fucking marriage bed with you. Goodbye.” 

 “And here’s the bed you’ll be sharing!”

 You gawk at the suite with wide eyes, unable to speak. It’s similar to the room you share with your mother, except this room doesn’t have two beds… but one. 

 One fucking king sized bed that belongs to Jungkook.

 “Mom, what is this?” You rudely question, ignoring your tone and the fact that Jungkook stands just behind you. “What do you mean I’m sharing his room?” 

 “Well, us parents just thought it’d be better for you two if you shared a room together, so we decided to place you in Jungkook’s. You’ll be married soon after all!” Your mother appears overly thrilled, smiling widely with her hands clasped together. You can’t believe her at all, shaking with resentment. 

 “Mom, you can’t make us share a room.” You fume, barely containing your temper. “You’ve already done enough, this is too much.” 

 “We don’t have much of an option, dear.” She coos, acting as though she hasn’t just entirely fucked up your life. “The Jeons suggested it and it’d be rude for us to not accept their hospitality. Besides, Jungkook’s a sweet boy, and I’d hurt him myself if he ever did anything to you.” 

 Your mother reaches towards Jungkook and cradles his cheek, her later warning bright in her eyes. Jungkook smiles politely, as though he wasn’t just up in your face and spitting poison half an hour ago. “Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N. I can assure you I’ll treat your daughter with respect. Always.” 

 Your mother hums delightfully at that, flashing a look at you. You refuse to meet her eyes, emotions still too raw inside you. She sighs and bids a farewell, leaving you two with your dicks in your hands. 

 You simmer angrily; your things were already transported here so you couldn’t make the excuse of leaving for them—shit. You suppress a snarl, hating every second of this. 

 “So, what was that about not sharing my bed, kitten?” 

 You scoff, hissing at him. “Fuck off, and don’t call me petnames.” 

 “But it’s so fun.” 

 Patience will certainly become your best friend with this man, whipping your head around with a death glare. “I’ll sleep on the Godforsaken couch if I have to. I am not sleeping with you.” 

 Jungkook laughs, dry and curt. He makes it a statement to walk towards you, slow and calculative. He invades your space as he pins you with an amused look, eyes as dangerous as the sea itself.  “Don’t know if you’ve forgotten, kitten, but you’ve already slept with me.” 

 The pride in his smirk leaves you unhinged, shoving Jungkook away from you. “I remember it being the biggest mistake of my life.” 

 Jungkook laughs humourlessly this time, obviously not used to a sharp-tongued woman. His gaze harbours something you can’t quite distinguish, like he’s attempting to figure you out, entertained by solving whatever puzzle you appear to be to him. 

 You hate that he’s trying, indicative of his still unwavering will to try this marriage, to truly be bound to each other as husband and wife. You can’t understand it, can’t understand how the man is so eager to prove a point that he’s soiling one of the most precious things in human life; the bond of marriage. 

 It only makes you consider how your mother could do this to you, strap you to some random person’s son as though you’re her doll. For all she knew you were in a relationship, in love, goddamn handfast with someone else, but her refusal to divulge any information or inquire about your love life says enough. 

 She doesn’t fucking care.

 Your thoughts send you swimming in the doubts of your mind, negativity poisoning the waters. You slowly step away from Jungkook, your anger subsiding like a tide that reveals the rocks and shards of your sorrow when it pulls backs. 

 Her betrayal hurts more than anything. You had always been her partner in crime, her confidant, her person, but she kept something so vital, so life-changing from you… 

 “I can’t believe my mother would do this…” The words escape you without thought, flattering onto the bed behind you. “I trusted her. I’ve trusted her my whole life… and she didn’t even tell me.” 

 The vulnerability is evident in your cadence, vision focused on nothing but the hardwood floor. You can’t see Jungkook, who stands a few feet away from you, but distinguish the slight sympathy in his tone when he speaks. 

 “What about your father?” He asks carefully, his hands finding his pockets. “Did he know?”

 “He’s… sick.” You swallow, slapping concrete over your heart so it doesn’t crumble at the thought of your father. It’s a story you rarely tell, and one you’re certain you’ll never tell Jungkook. “Don’t ask about him, ever.” 

 Jungkook seems to get the memo, ending that topic. He sighs then, long and deep, before taking a few steps towards you. “I’m not even doing this for myself, you know.” He informs, his voice oddly soft, quiet. “I’m doing this for somebody else. Someone I care about.”

 Your eyes flicker up to him. “Who?” 

 “My little sister, Mari.”

 “You have a little sister?”

 “And you have a little brother.” He adds with a charming smile, taking a seat as furthest from you as he could. You’re unsure whether he did it for your sake or his. “Google search, remember? 

 You silently absorb that information, tasting it. “Where is she now?” 

 “Asleep. She didn’t sleep the night before because she was too excited about the trip.” 

 Your lips don’t know which emotion to convey, left merely blinking. “How could someone like you be doing this for your little sister?” 

 Jungkook puffs air through his nose as he tongues his cheek, leaning back on his palms. “Just because you don’t like me, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.” 

 You weigh his words, chewing on them—they’re indicative of the exact predicament you’re in. He needs to be logical about this, there’s sincerely no way you two could agree to marriage when you don’t even know each other’s character, let alone favourite colour. “But that’s the point, Jungkook, I don’t like you nor do I know you well enough to even discern if you’re a bad person. Neither do you with me. Don’t you see that we can’t marry each other? It’s blasphemous.” 

 “It’s just a marriage, Y/N.” Jungkook leans back with a devil-may-care attitude, completely unbothered. “It doesn’t mean shit.”

 “It may not mean shit to you, but it does to me.” You snap back, harmed by his idiotic nonchalance. “I’d rather marry a man who doesn’t leave my fucking bed in the middle of the night like a thief.” 

 Jungkook scoffs, his stupid doe eyes cutting you deep. “Says the woman who seduced me like a siren.” He spits. “Trust me, I want nothing to do with you and your sorry-ass way of getting attention.” 

 Now you’re hooked up to a livewire, darting off the bed and accusingly pointing. “Please, you’re the one who craves attention.” You snarl. “Anyone could take one good look at you and know that you only party and act like an idiot for mommy and daddy’s attention.”

 “Shut the fuck up.” His eyes harden with clear fury; looks like you’ve hit a nerve. 

 “Well would you look at that? Seems like I’ve hit a bullseye.” You sweetly condescend. “I’m right, aren’t I? You act like a little tantrum-filled playboy to get mommy and daddy’s attention. What? The silver spoons aren’t enough?” 

 “I said,” Jungkook fumes, his jaw locked firm enough he could’ve been breaking a tooth. “Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” 

 What a fucking classic; another boy with anger and mommy and daddy issues, should you really be surprised? It’s a tale as old as time, and you have no energy to poke at it anymore. “I’d shut the fuck up if you put on your big boy pants and told your parents to fuck off.” 

 Jungkook’s face contorts with disbelief, shooting up from the bed. “Like you’re saying shit to your mother? You’re the same little girl sobbing in a corner just because your mommy made a decision without you. Why don’t you put on your big girl pants and tell your mother to fuck off?” 

 “Fuck you,” you growl, both words dripping with venom, eyes the very harbinger of death. “I’d rather eat grass than spend another minute with you.”

 “Then get used to the taste of dirt, kitten. You’re spending a whole lifetime with me.” 

 You can’t believe him, you can’t believe how insolent and reckless and idiotic he is. Spend an entire lifetime together? Is he insane? He’d rather spend a lifetime with a stranger than stand up to his parents? He's the very definition of a fool. 

 “What is wrong with you? How are you okay with spending a lifetime with a stranger? How are you okay with that?” 

 Jungkook smirks, wide and charming. “Well, we’re not exactly strangers, are we, kitten?” 

 “Don’t fucking call me that, and stop brining up that night.” 

 “Why?” Jungkook asks with almost fascination, entertained by your denial. “Why do you want to forget it, Y/N? Is there something about that night that bothers you?” 

 He crosses the room to you now, his each step fluid, methodical. His approaching only makes you retreat in response, his aura enough to corrupt yours. His very existence alters the workings of yours, leaving your heart racing and your breath hitching and your skin heating. It made no sense, made no sense beyond being physically attracted to the man… 

 Oh fucking hell; you are ravenously attracted to this man. 

 And with him approaching you like this, with his eyes intent on you, his gaze hungry, you’re left nothing but to be his prey, succumbing to him. 

 “Tell me, Y/N.” He purrs, taking his last step before standing mere inches from you, scavenging the depths of your soul with his piercing gaze. “Tell me, why do you want to forget it? Why do you want to forget what our bodies felt like against each other?” 

 His words surge memories through you, seductive, bitter, sensual, powerful memories you’d much rather purge. You stand your ground despite shaking with arousal, despite your nipples hardening against your dress as you meet the man’s fiery gaze. “Because you were a mistake.” 

 Jungkook laughs that laugh that’s quick and dry, his voice deeper and richer than an aged bottle of Whiskey. “Was I really a mistake, Y/N? Do you really regret what happened between us?” He invades your space so much your ass nudges the vanity behind you, squeaking. His sex appeal oozes out of him as he stands this close, suffocating you, leaning down to your height until he cages you between himself and the vanity, hands gripping the edge either side of your hips.

 You swallow harshly, hormones on high alert. “I-I do. I regret it.” 

 Again, one of his laughs, making it a statement to tongue his lip ring, tempting you with his tongue. You unconsciously watch the hypnotic movement, recalling exactly what it felt like to kiss him; majestic, Dionysian, ecstasy. 

 He dares graze his mouth along your ear, causing goosebumps to freckle your skin. “Do you really, Y/N? Because I think,” he breathes hotly, electrocuting your body. He chuckles at your jolt, voice dropping an octave. “I think that night bothers you because you hate how much you want me.” 

 Disgusted by his accuracy, you become angry, not even understanding this yourself. “Shut up.” 

 “Why, Y/N? Because I’m right?” He chides, voice utterly spell-binding. “Because you remember the taste of me? Because you remember my hands roaming your body? My lips worshiping your skin? Because you remember the feeling of me inside you, and never wanting it to end?” 

 You’re an idiot, you’re an absolute fool for not listening to your head and shoving him off, calling him every repulsive name in the English language and demanding that your mother cut off this marriage. You’re an idiot, because your body is reacting too easily to this man, falling right into the trap he so effortlessly crafts for you. 

 You want to resist, want to break this spell, want to tie up every memory of that night and store it away in a box, but you can’t. That night infiltrates your mind like a dam being let loose, remembering his coarse hands on your body, the cherry taste of his lip balm, how he speared you open with the sheer size of him, bigger than anything you’ve ever felt. 

 You can’t stomach this, overheating by the second. Your head feels light and your pussy can’t help but throb, hating his heat, his proximity, his fucking scent. “Jungkook… shut up.” 

 “God, the way you say my name.” He practically groans, his breath fanning across your cheek as he levels himself with you, lips only separated by mere inches of space. “I should’ve told you that night, could’ve heard you moan it.” 

 Oh, he’s dangerous, he’s hazardous and calamitous and fucking dangerous. The temptation of him is stronger than your will, using every weapon in your arsenal to fight him. “Jungkook…” 

 “Tell me, Y/N.” He rasps, as overheated as you, breathing hard. “How long did it take? For my hickeys to disappear? For my cologne to stop lingering on your skin? In your hair? How long will it take for you to forget the memory of me touching you? Kissing you? Moving inside you?”

 You’re a goner, you’re so close to diving off the deep end, insane with lust. You hate that he’s dictating this situation, hate the power he’s exercising with that stupidly unwavering confidence. Two could play this game, and you need to remind him you’re not the kitten he keeps calling you.

 You grab his collar without thinking, digging your claws into the expensive material. You tug him so close you could’ve been kissing him—his eyes widen in shock when you sneer. “And what about you, playboy? Do you like remembering that night because of how much you liked it? Because you can’t forget the way I moaned? The way my nails dug into your back and scratched you raw? The way I pulsed around you when I wanted more?” 

 Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to pant, chest rising and falling with his faltering self-control. You hear how hard he grips the vanity behind you, creaking under his grip. You challenge him nonetheless, ready to relish in the way this man snaps. 

 But he merely smiles, as shaky as it is, and accepts your challenge. “Seems like we’re back to remembering that night, then.” 

 You shake your head, scoffing at him. “Face it, Jeon. You say you don’t like me but you’re so ready to marry me because you can’t help but want me after that night, and you fucking hate it.” 

 He exhales haughtily, his smile as wicked as the devil himself. “Then why don’t you face it, too, kitten?” He breathes, lips hovering just above yours, touching them. “You don’t want to marry me because you’ve been aching for me ever since, and you hate knowing what’ll happen if we spend a lifetime together.” 

 God, you’re seconds from shoving him against your mouth. He’s got you so hot and bothered you’re squishing your pathetic thighs together to stop your pathetic essence from leaking out of your pathetic cunt. You can’t help but breathe into his mouth, mere centimeters from kissing, his hips pinning you to the vanity. 

 You swear you feel the ghost of his length for a millisecond, and you’re close to transforming into a wild animal. His eyes dart between your lashes and your mouth, clearly losing his sanity the same way you are. The heat between you is searing, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife, only the modicum of respect you have for yourselves keeping you from risking it all. 

 That very thought sucks you back into reality, recalling the situation you’re in with this man, the gravity of your future. This isn’t going to be a fairytale with a happy ending, nor is Jungkook ever going to be your knight in shining armour or Prince Charming you’ll fall in love with. He’s the bane of your existence, an impertinent bastard that isn’t worth selling your happiness for. All he wants is to marry you to benefit himself. 

 It has nothing to do with how he feels about you, and all about what you can do for him.  

 The very reminder of his stupidly sexy face saying those words makes you hurtle him off you, watching him stumble back a few steps. He shakes his head as though he were lifted from a trance, swallowing as his eyes meet yours. You level your breathing and snarl at him, teeth bared. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

 You don’t give him an opportunity to speak before you’re searching for your night bag, loaded with everything you need for your night routine. You salvage your suitcase for the Godforsaken thing but can’t find it, exasperated when you remember that your mother was using it this morning, so of course it wasn’t here. 

 You storm out of your shared room with Jungkook and stomp all the way down to your mother’s, using your keycard to open the door. You were glad to find it vacant of her, rummaging through the bathroom for the bag. You find it, but snatch other things she was sharing with you, far too angry with her to lend her anything anymore. 

 This one task alone eats up over 30 minutes, nearly exploding at just how many of your things you shared with your mother, and yet she couldn’t share this one fucking thing with you—the fate of your future.

 As anger becomes your old friend, you march back to your new room, swinging the door open. You expect to harp on Jungkook and his idiocy again, having concocted seamless arguments to counter his ridiculous notion of marriage the entire walk back, but are shocked as you enter the room. 

 Jungkook has changed into his nightwear, most likely a pair of shorts with a white t-shirt. You can’t exactly tell, because he’s tugged a throw blanket over himself, his hand resting on his taut stomach as the other remains wedged underneath his head… with his long legs nearly dangling off the couch. 

 Your mouth opens and closes as you find the empty, untouched bed, attempting to manufacture a sentence. Saying anything seems like a moot point now, though, considering his breathing is stable enough to suggest he’s sleeping. 

 You shake your head, so utterly confused by him. You throw away any trifling thoughts and quietly prepare yourself for bed, careful not to wake him. You despise that his presence remains something you’re careful about, or that your kindness-deprived brain keeps considering the benevolence of his one action. 

 Labelling it as a stupid whim, you tuck yourself into the unoccupied bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what on God’s green earth you’re going to do about Jungkook, and considering the hell you’d rather perish in than ever marry him. 

a/n: y’all forgive me if it acc doesn’t only take around 24 hours to sail from seoul to hong kong on a direct cruise i swear i searched up the nautical miles and did the loose math if the boat doesn’t dock at any ports. I SWEAR I’M NOT DUMB so if i’m wrong forgive me <33

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone pt. 2 - c.f

summary: y/n leaves to do what susannah always wanted for her boys.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

a/n: gif is not mine, but i was so so happy to see how much everyone loved part one!! i’ve never had to tag people, but i will try and do that at the end of the story <3 this is also not following the books, that i haven’t read because i’m the worst reader 😭

y/n stood on the opposite side of susannah’s bed, visiting her in boston after she was waiting to see her girls. her connection to laurels daughters was always something susannah felt from the moment they were born. she always wanted girls of her own, but she was still blessed with her two sons.

belly was sitting on the bed, a bright blue dress as susannah looked into her eyes. laurel had gone out to run errands for her friend, so the girls had stayed with susannah.

it was clear that her condition was declining, and rapidly. her face didn’t have the usual sunshine look, and she appeared weaker than y/n and belly were ever used to. her skinny hands trailed to theirs and wrapped together. her touch went from a warm comfort to as light as a feather. somehow, through the cloudy day, the sun poked through and her angelic smile blessed the girls.

“i’ve been missing you so much,” susannah grinned, placing a hand on belly’s thigh and grabbing y/n’s hand with the other. “i’m so glad you came to see me. i needed to see you girls.”

the look on belly’s face was almost coated with uncomfortableness, her naïve self not used to seeing people in this condition. y/n didn’t want susannah to see her fall apart in her grasp, so she made herself blend with tranquility.

the time had passed where they wanted to attempt to save susannah. now, they knew it was only a matter of time until they lost her. they may not have physically lost susannah, but they lost the spark in her a long time ago.

“the boys love you, you know,” she tells belly, and then turning her head to y/n. “both of you.”

“i know,” y/n replies, seeing belly trying to find the right words.

“promise me something?” she asks, looking at belly who’s head perks up. “look after them for me.”

“you’re going to do that yourself,” belly remarks barely over a whisper, moments away from letting the dam break. y/n’s cried enough tears for susannah, but somehow they don’t seem to stop. watching her whole family experience this grief makes her feel less alone, but seeing her baby sister fall apart is near unbearable.

she watched as belly crumpled on the bed into susannah’s arms, and her once warm grasp felt lighter than ever.

ever since her death, y/n wants to look at belly the same. her actions make it so hard. she promised susannah to take care of her boys, and she failed. she let jeremiah sit around knowing he wasn’t the one she truly wanted. afterwards, she made conrad watch in heartbreak her new self with jeremiah.

that scares y/n, knowing that she’ll never truly be able to pick between them. in the long run, no matter who she “picks”, she’s hurting more people than she thinks.

she figures the best thing she can do is be there for conrad, as belly and jeremiah don’t think it’s necessary.

as she drove further and further away, the music she normally sings to turned into static. conrad would probably still be in cousins, not wanting to face his family back in boston. the traffic had quieted down, for people would be home with their families.

she pulled up the the house that had gotten it’s life back before julia took it all away. conrad and y/n were the main ones trying to save the house from being invaded by another family. even if they couldn’t, the cousins house would always have the fisher’s name on it. when y/n walked up to the front door, she slowly turned the doorknob and stepped in.

her footsteps lightly echoed due to the emptiness of the house, some of the front rooms still looking lifeless. y/n walked around, picturing everything exactly how susannah had it, all the portraits and loving decor she had around. she knew, though, that’s how conrad will set everything up.

the sun was just starting to dip down below the horizon, and when she spotted conrad sitting with his feet dipped in the pool, he looked lower than the sun ever could get.

she quietly stepped out onto the back, not saying a word until he noticed her. his head slowly tilted around, feeling her sweet eyes burning through him. he felt more relieved. she’s the only person he wants to see. she’s the one person who hasn’t ripped his heart out and used it.

“what are you doing back?” he questions, keeping his collected expression.

“i didn’t think you really wanted to be alone. you can’t fool me, conrad,” she smirks softly, moving over to sit next to him on the edge of the pool. she dips her feet into the cool water, not yet graced by the hot summer air.

“i don’t need you to be here for me, i don’t think i’m too good of company right now.”

“i think that’s exactly why you need me,” y/n says as conrad looks back to her. he’s always noticed y/n’s beauty on the outside, but he never got to really appreciate the inside. her mind was just as beautiful as her hair when the wind blows it, or the dimples on her cheeks when she’s happy. “you don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“yeah,” he sighs, swaying his feet in the pool. “i thought jere would at least help me.”

“i talked to belly,” y/n tells him, seeing him quickly freeze and lean his head back.

“it’s not a big deal, y/n, really,” conrad says.

“it is to me. i never thought of her like this, but i don’t understand how she could do that to you.”

“it’s a me problem, clearly jeremiah’s better than i am.”

“that’s not true. belly’s young and thinks she’s innocent. she doesn’t deserve someone like you. she’ll never take the time to know you, but she’s going to jeremiah because he’s ‘easier’.” y/n replies. “you’re perfectly fine the way you are, and you never have to change for her, or me.”

“my mom always saw me with belly. i think that’s the worst part.”

“but your mom didn’t see what belly’s done to you. susannah would never want you to change in order to be with her.” y/n says, clearly to him. “susannah asked belly to be there, and she failed.”

“what do you mean?”

“when belly and i went to visit, she asked us to take care of you and jeremiah. belly barely looked after you, and i don’t even know if she’s helping jeremiah.”

“i get it, though. i left her at prom, and broke her heart.”

“was it shitty of you? yes, i’m not gonna lie to you. at this point, she’s taking it too far by playing with you and now it’s jeremiah’s turn.”

“maybe my mom was wrong,” he looks away, connecting his eyes back with the minute waves in the water. “i miss her. she was like a breath of fresh air, and i feel like i haven’t gotten that since she died.”

“she’s still here,” y/n tells him, seeing the corner of his mouth turn up a bit.

“i still feel her sometimes. if i’m home and i hear a noise, i’ll think she’s cooking, or painting. i don’t need people to see me fall apart.”

“you never have to hide, conrad. not anymore, and not from me.”

the next time he locks eyes with y/n, he can majorly see the sincerity in her face. there’s still a hint of when they were young in their eyes, memories swimming back into conrad’s head. every time she talked to him, all the time she spent with him. every party she skipped because conrad didn’t feel up to it, and she didn’t want him to be alone. he never felt nervous around y/n the way he did with her sister. they always had a complex relationship, but never once did y/n fail to be next to him. conrad let his inch closer to y/n’s, letting her hand lay on top of his, leaving solace in him. he never noticed how soft her hands were, literally and figuratively. she never once used him and glued his pieces back together. it’s then that he realizes that’s something belly never did.

impulsively, he moves his body more toward y/n, trying to get all the gladdening she can give. she’s more than happy to give it to him, letting conrad hold onto her and have her help him. the world around the boy became lighter, almost forgetting about his former despondency caused by belly. the closer he got to y/n, the more he thought that his mother had mistaken belly for the one.

he brushes a stand of y/n’s hair behind her ear, placing his hand on the side of her neck. she breathes lightly, knowing what conrad wants from her, but not knowing if he needs it.

“conrad,” she whispers, his name coming across incredibly from her lips. “you know i love you.”

“of course,” he says back, his hand trailing down her arm.

“but i won’t be a redemption because you cannot have belly. i’ve been the second choice once and i destroyed myself. i won’t do it again.”

“belly’s not who i want. i don’t think i’ve ever loved belly the way i have for you.” it all felt so sudden, the tension growing thicker between them as conrad only wanted to deepen the connection. y/n was just so horrified of hurting him more. she knows that she could help him and love him how he should, but she needs to know that he’s not just trying to get belly back.

“i think we need time, conrad. please?” she asks, and he nods, slipping his hand back down and grabbing her hand. “but trust me when i say that’s it’s not over with us.”

the meaning behind her words is stronger. in reality, she just wants to dive into conrad and accept anything he has to give, but he needs to strengthen his own heart first. he needs to know what he wants. if y/n needs time, he will wait for her.

tags: @historygeekqueen @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @celesteblack08 @parkerdayaa @shelby-x