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yumeyooa · 3 years

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revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

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

➢ pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

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

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Life couldn’t be any better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

Well, partly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He genuinely seemed to care.

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

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

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

But he would have never expected this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you say, you fucki—"

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

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have a dream?”

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

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

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

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

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

In a way, it was kind of cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was he acting like this anyway?

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

Was it because it was you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turns out it was none of them.

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

It was you.

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

Well, Jungkook be damned.

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

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

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

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

You went into all of this, risking everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because immediately you got hooked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

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

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

“(Y/N) I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because that breakup broke you like no other.

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

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

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

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

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you go out with me?”

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

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

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

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

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he says nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life.

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

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

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

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

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

Lies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what the fuck is this?”

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

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

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

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

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha.

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he realized it wasn’t you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he was the only one to blame.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk

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

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arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining. Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1 Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again. By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly. It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks. “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?” She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right. Crap. You forgot about that little white lie. “Sorry, hang on a sec.” You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face. “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks. Are you feeling okay? I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied.

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah. He was big, too. And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.” Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down. When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others. You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned. You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing. So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over. “Hm. Better keep that on there. You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag. You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully. The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed. Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in.

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work. The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you. You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her. And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence. But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge. Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft. “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was. You gave a soft sigh. “Of course not. He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed.

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement.

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it. She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them. You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing. More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes. But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied. You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No. I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded.

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes. You had to choose your words carefully.

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained. “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away. It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you. And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people. You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something. You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right? You treat each of us like family. Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know. But you don’t. That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes. “You’re so nice, big sis.” Her compliment made you smile.

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation. “Am I all done?”

You nodded. “You’re free to go.” You announced. Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name. “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave. As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand. Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before. It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time. Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation. It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear. The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past. It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

* * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible. To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores. He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels. His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you. The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before. But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake. He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it. It shouldn’t be important. You shouldn’t be important. His mouth pressed into a thin line. The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.

The cleaning only occupied him for so long. Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them. He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories. Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands. The cigarette was gone within a minute. The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort. So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids. His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face. Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal. It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space. His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself. They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret. But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind. How did you fold your towels?

Idiot. He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague. Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind. He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence.

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar. A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated. Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him. The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination. No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

* * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes. You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects.

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles. Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up. You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand. Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked. You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction. “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind. “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…? Maybe Dabi said something the day before. Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded. “She might throw it up. She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank. No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously. Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits. Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it. You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile. “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up. “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented. “However, Kurogiri is supervising her. Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high. I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered. “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled. “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents. It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh! One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.” Toga explained. Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table. “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated. “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides. “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray. Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him. “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill. But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward. Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne. Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be. The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date. You wanted to laugh. Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates. In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter. You weren’t his type anyway. And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage. Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together. He needed someone he could trust. He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact. He needed a friend. You could do that. You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag. If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills. It was about time for it anyway. With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch. Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form. You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants. Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain. He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems. Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in. You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips. His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing. If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down. “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice? How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog. Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted. The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness. The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence. Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth. Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered. All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival. A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with. You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls. With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.” He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog. He gave you a soft glare. “Why did you even take this? You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased. “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.” You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it. That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk. “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes! So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back. It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander. “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first. If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl. “Fine, you big baby.”

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth. He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful. Definitely burnt. And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth. You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.” Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back. “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.”

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll? You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him. “Don’t try to act like you know me. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. So eat up.” You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose. He pushed the bowl away back towards you. “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.” He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed. “and she had Kurogiri with her, too. Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed. “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm. “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head. Dinner date. Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it. The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks. Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you. He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits. But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him. Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table. You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off. But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload. But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could. More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed. You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment. You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.” He finally said. He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips. “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball. You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face. “Yeah, thanks.” You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it. “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway. “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first. Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.”

Was it a lie? Of course. You were starving. Did Dabi know that you were lying? Of course. But he took the other half of the muffin anyway. You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

“Are those my towels?” you asked.

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth. “Yeah. They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end. Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now. Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before. He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal. Bringing ramen. Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something. You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes. Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster. As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle. His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills. He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it. “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space. “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile. “It is. But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about. Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower. You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch. The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze. As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night. There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him. Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off? About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted.

“I’m not talking about the pain. I’m talking about… I don’t know. Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone. “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll. Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face. Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified. You needed to understand more. You needed to know how bad it was. “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling. Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions? You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night. Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with. You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing. “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged. “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing. Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again. And certainly not twice in one day. You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them. Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk.

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back? What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand. They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little. “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you. You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips. You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard. The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured. “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself. His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state. You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did. I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied. “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him. “NO!” You finally exclaimed. “Of course, I didn’t! Why would you even…” but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you.

You playfully punched his arm. “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed. “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back. “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit. With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower. You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind. You weren’t here for this. You were here to treat him and get out of his space. You weren’t his type. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice. Why did he have to be such a flirt? It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time. Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there. You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today. Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip. It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty. How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face.

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now. You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew. In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you. It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered. “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided. “Of course I’m going to do your legs. The better I treat you, the better you can rest. And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll. I won’t be needing them. Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing. “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk. “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable. Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen. But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure. He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up. He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you. What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery. Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears. Was it multiple sensory attacks? You flinched again. And again. There was a rhythm. So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out. Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper. He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears. He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point. But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave? Why stay here if it was bothering you this much? Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter. You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling. The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes. Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized. The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room. Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag. It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so. Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door. After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

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pitubea1910 · 4 years

Text

10th Anniversary

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: -

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: I was supposed to post this for their 10th Anniversary but I totally forgot about it and just found it on my drafts! So I hope you like it :)

MASTERLIST

The moment you woke up you knew what day it was without even looking at the calendar.

July 23rd 2020.

10 years. It had been a whole decade since all the craziness started. Looking back now, you would have never imagined everything you all had gone through in that time, how much you had grown up -together and separated-, how much your lives had changed.

You were a 15 years-old-girl when you met them thanks to your aunt Lou. When you first laid eyes on them, you just saw five loud and unstoppable guys. You would have never imagined that you would find four brothers and something else in them.

However, there you were, 10 years later, checking your Twitter timeline with a stupid grin on your face. It looked like 2012 all over again and you loved it. You missed those times like crazy. Of course, you knew the hiatus was coming the moment Zayn left the band -and they had earned every single day of it-, but that didn’t change how much you missed them all.

Even though you had kept in touch with the five of them it wasn’t the same. They were all busy with their own solo projects and they barely had the time to meet up. You couldn’t blame them, but you still missed them. Especially the green-eyed one.

Harry and you immediately clicked when you met. It turned out you had a lot in common and similar personalities. You had a tight relation with the whole group, but what you and Harry had was special. Probably it helped that you were the same age. But the truth was that it didn’t matter the reason, you were always together.

Everyone who saw you together and knew how your relationship was just kept on saying that you two would end up together. It turned out they weren’t completely wrong, although it never worked out the way you would have wanted. You were a couple for less than a year. It was the best year of your life and the worst break-up you ever had.

You loved him and he loved you, there was no doubt of that, but it was too complicated to keep it going. As much as you loved touring the world with them, spending every single day with Harry, you also needed a life of your own, you wanted to go to college and doing it from afar didn’t work for you. It was the hardest decision you ever made, but everyone understood and supported you. Harry the most.

It broke his heart as well, but he knew he couldn’t ask you to keep with his lifestyle. He had to let you go. You gave distance a chance, but with their schedules and the time zones it soon became impossible. You remembered the last FaceTime you had, how heartbroken you both were. But it was for the best.

You never lost contact though. Every single time he would come to London he called you to spend a day together. Those days ended up being the best days of the year and they usually ended with you two going back to his place and spending the night together. And every morning your heart broke knowing you had to say goodbye again. But you kept on coming back to him every time his name showed up on your screen.

Usually he was the one who reached out, which made sense since he was the one who was travelling all the time. That morning, that July 23rd, was different. You texted first for the first time in a long time.

Happy 10 years, Styles. Wish we could celebrate together. Love you.

You gulped before sending the text. He was probably in the States and he wouldn’t see it for another few hours, so after sending some other texts to Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn, you got out of bed and headed to the shower. Usually, you would have to hurry to get to your internship, but with the pandemic you still didn’t have to go, so you had another day completely off.

However, before you got into the shower, you heard your ringtone. You frowned confused. It was way too early for your mum to be calling, so you had no clue who could it be. Maybe it was your boss, giving you an update on the status of your internship. With a sigh, you turned on the water and went back to the room, hoping it would be a quick call so you could go back to your shower.

You took the phone without even looking at the phone and answered it.

“Hello?” You said as you started walking back to the bathroom.

“Happy ten years to you too, love”, a deep known voice said on the other side, making you stop on your tracks as your heart started racing.

Quickly, you checked the caller and saw Harry’s name. He was probably the last person you expected to talk to that day.

“Thanks”, you finally managed to say when you put your phone against your ear.

“I’m guessing you didn’t expect my call?” He said. Judging by his tone, you knew he was smirking, which made you smile.

“You guessed correctly”, you admitted. “How are you awake?”

“I was out for an early run”, he said, making you frown.

“Wait, are you in England?”

“In London to be more accurate”, he said.

“R-really?” You stuttered.

“So maybe we can also make the celebration happen”, he said.

“Really?” You repeated. “I mean, yes! That would be great!”

You smacked yourself on the forehead for being such a nerd. He chuckled quietly before saying he had to make some calls during the morning, but he could pick you up at noon to have some lunch. You said yes immediately. Most of the restaurants were still closed, but he was Harry Styles. He always had a trick up his sleeve, and you couldn’t see what he would pull off that day.

Since you woke up way too early, the morning went off slowly. Or maybe it was just you being impatient. However, you finally got a text from Harry saying he was parked outside of your building. You grabbed your purse with the basic stuff -wallet, keys and phone- and a mask. Once you were sure you had locked the door properly, you went to the elevator.

Usually, he would wait for you in his car in case some recognised him. So it shocked you to see him casually leaning against the vehicle when you walked out of the building. When he heard you, he looked up from his phone. You couldn’t see his whole face due to the mask he was wearing, but his eyes told you he was smiling.

Despite all the precautions and distancing you were supposed to take, you knew it wouldn’t work with him. He was like a magnet and all you wanted to do was hug him and have him hugging you.

“Can I hug you?” He asked.

The fact that he was thinking the same as you made you laugh. All you did was hugging him tightly. He could always hug you, no matter what. He was the exception to every rule.

“I missed you”, you said with your eyes closed, which made him squeeze you a bit tighter.

“Me too”, he whispered.

You spent a couple of minutes just holding each other before he pulled away and opened the passenger door for you. You thanked him with a smile and got into the car and buckled up while he walked around the vehicle to get in before taking off the mask. You did the same and looked at him, the whole him this time.

“I love your hair short”, you said.

Harry looked at you with a dimpled smile and ran a hand through his hair -an old habit he didn’t seem to be able to shake but you loved- before turning on the engine.

“How long has it been?” He asked once he started driving.

“Christmas, I think”, you said after thinking about it for a moment. “Hans’ Christmas party before you went back to the States.”

“Right”, he said and looked at you, making you blush and smile at the memories of that night. “How have you been?”

“Locked”, you chuckled making him chuckle as well. “But good, I finished my thesis, watched a lot of movies and TV shows and baked. A lot.”

“You’ve always been good at baking”, he said.

“And you’ve always been good at eating”, you teased, making him laugh. “What about you?”

“I got stuck in the States until a few days ago”, he shrugged. “Didn’t do much either.”

“Sorry about your tour, by the way”, you said when you remembered. “I was excited.”

“Me too”, he sighed. “But some stuff are more important.”

You smiled a little and nodded to yourself. This pandemic had been, and was been, a wreck all around the world. As usual, you reached out to turn on the radio, which made Harry smile to himself. Ever since the first time you had got into his car, all those years ago, you would always start the music, no matter what. At first, he was surprised you took such confidences in someone else’s car, but he soon loved that detail about you.

“How is it going with your internship?” He asked when the song that was playing on the radio ended.

“I’m on furlough”, you shrugged and sighed. “I got an email last week saying some people would start coming back to work soon. But I don’t think that includes interns.”

“I wouldn’t be in a hurry if I were you”, he commented as he checked the mirrors. “You don’t have a car to go to the office and I wouldn’t be too excited about getting into the tube.”

“I could always get a bike”, as soon you said that you both started laughing. You were the less sportive person you had even known. “Yeah, that was a good one.”

“Indeed”, he chuckled.

“I’m not in a hurry to go back”, you shrugged. “But it’s boring.”

“I know”, he sighed and looked at you for a moment. “But at least now we have time to hang out.”

“Like old times”, you smiled. Harry smiled softly and nodded.

“Like old times.”

“Where are we going by the way? Most restaurants are still closed”, you said.

You had been so focused on talking to Harry and watching him drive that you hadn’t been paying attention to the streets, so you had no idea where you were going.

“My place”, he said, surprising you. “My new place, actually.”

“You have a new place?” You asked even more surprised.

“Yeah. Too many people knew about the house in Hampstead. It was annoying”, he sighed. “Hopefully, no one will find out about this one.”

“But you loved Hampstead!”, you pouted. You loved that house too, to be honest.

“I didn’t sell it”, he shrugged with a smile. “I just don’t use it as official residency.”

“Good”, you smiled now. “So… your place.”

“You’re okay with that?” He asked a bit concerned.

“Oh yes! I just assumed we would to some restaurant”, you shrugged.

“I thought about it”, he nodded. “But even if they’re open, I feel bad for the people who have to work in them, so I guess it makes their lives less anxious with less customers.”

“Always so thoughtful”, you commented.

“Can’t help myself”, he said, his cheeks blushing a little.

You smiled sweetly and looked out of the window, now curious to see where he had moved to. Judging by the zone, you were in the south of London, although you couldn’t figure out exactly where.

Finally, he drove into a subterranean parking in a big brick building. The parking didn’t have many cars, which led you to believe that he didn’t have many neighbours. Harry parked at the very end of the place and, once he turned off the engine, you unbuckled yourself and got out of the car.

“Quite big for a few cars”, you commented looking around.

“I know”, he laughed after locking his car. “It’s a new building. Probably is four years old, so not many people live here yet. And those who do, have more than one car so��”

“You have more than one spot?” You asked.

“Those three are also mine”, he said pointing.

You smiled when you saw the familiar black Range Rover in which you had been so many times over the years. The other two spots were empty, but you knew he had the cars to fill them.

Without saying anything, he started walking to an elevator you hadn’t seen at first sight. You followed him while you checked your phone before throwing it into your bag for the rest of the day. When you got into the elevator, you looked around at how new it looked.

“How long have you been living here?” You asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

“A couple of years”, he shrugged and you nodded. “I was the second one to move in.”

“Really?” He nodded. “Nice”, you chuckled.

It didn’t surprise you when the elevator opened at the last floor. He had always liked high places and he had always said that he would love to live in a penthouse someday. It looked like he had fulfilled another one of his fantasies. As you stepped out, you saw that there were only two doors. Private.

“I’m the only one in this floor”, he commented. “These two places are the most expensive so”, he shrugged.

“More silence for you. Imagine a family with three children living across the hall”, you said.

“You would go crazy”, he laughed.

“Definitely”, you smiled a little.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like kids. You did. But when there were many of them, you got a bit nervous, especially if they were loud.

Harry took out a keychain and put it in front of where a locker should have been. It beeped and he pushed the door open. He looked back with a cocky grin.

“Snob”, you mumbled when he let you walk in first.

“Hey!” He laughed.

He took your bag and hung it next to the door while you looked around in awe. It was an open-space living room and kitchen, surrounded by huge windows from where you could see Vauxhall Bridge and the other side of the Thames. It was all decorated in cold colours, but it wasn’t a cold environment. He had managed to give his personal and warm touch.

“What do you think?” He asked standing behind you, a bit more closer than what you expected.

“Much better than Hampstead”, you admitted.

“You think so?”

“There’s no way teenage girls will camp just outside your door”, you shrugged.

“Good point”, he laughed. “Come, I’ll show you the balcony.”

“I’m not a big fan of heights”, you reminded him while he was dragging you by your hand.

“I won’t let you go”, he said.

Saying no to him was an impossible task. There was nothing you could deny to him, not when he gave you that dimpled smile that you loved so much.

To be honest, the views were breath-taking, it couldn’t be denied, but you didn’t go too close to the edge just in case and Harry didn’t push you. All he did was hold your hand tightly.

“I have to confess something”, he said after a while.

“What is it?” You asked quietly.

“I haven’t cooked anything. I was praying you were craving pizza”, he said, making you laugh out loud.

“I’m always craving pizza, you idiot”, you said giving him hand a gentle squeeze before going back inside.

He followed you inside but left the door open. While he ordered the pizza, you walked around the living room, checking out the photos he had framed and also the vinyl collection he had. You smiled a little when you saw that he had all One Direction CDs there as well, as vinyl.

When you started looking at the photos, the first one that caught your eye was one of the two of you, so many years ago, in the tour bus. You took it from the chest it was on. You smiled warmly as you remembered all those long hours stuck into the bus. Somehow, they all managed to make it fun.

In the photo, you and Harry were laying down on one of the sofas, sleeping while facing each other. You were cuddled up against him while he had one hand on your waist, hugging you, and the other one stretched over your head. You remembered having that photo as your lockscreen for so long.

“I think that’s my favourite.”

You hadn’t expected Harry to be just behind you. You hadn’t even heard him coming close to you, so you gasped and almost dropped the photo, but he was quick enough to catch it.

“So I would appreciate if you didn’t break it”, he chuckled.

“Sorry, you scared me”, you said.

“Sorry”, he said too and looked down at the photo before putting it back on top of the chest. “We really had fun that tour, didn’t we?”

“Wasn’t it the one when we started dating?” You asked. He nodded and turned around to walk to couch. “It really was fun.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” He asked all of sudden.

You chuckled and looked down before shaking your head. It was a question that always came up between you two. If the answer was positive it changed the whole mood of the time you spent together. It wasn’t like you didn’t want each other to date other people, but it still hurt to see it.

“Are you?” You asked.

“No”, he said and looked at you before smiling a little.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that”, he said and looked down at his hands. He started playing with his rings, which he used to do whenever he got nervous.

“About what?”

“Us.”

“Oh…”, you gulped and looked down as well.

You always feared when he brough that up. Usually it was because he was seeing someone, so you guessed this time wouldn’t be different, even though he had just said he wasn’t seeing anyone. You bite your lip and nodded.

“Okay”, you whispered.

“I was going to wait until after we ate but since it came up”, he shrugged.

“You brought it up”, you quickly said.

“Good point”, he chuckled.

“Anyway”, you looked at him. “What is it? What’s her name?”

“Her name?” He asked confused. “I’m… I’m not seeing anyone. I told you.”

“Really?” You frowned, even more confused than him. “I just- Every time you want to talk about us, it is because you’re seeing someone.”

“Oh… I hadn’t thought about it, to be honest”, he said thinking about it before laughing a little. “It’s not the case now”, he shrugged.

“What is it?” You asked now curious but also fearful. What if he said he didn’t have feelings for you anymore?

“You know how we have always said that we can’t be together because of how messy my life is, right?” He asked and you nodded, having no clue where he was going with this. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and you were right about it back then. When I was in the band. Now it’s different.”

“How? You still have the same job”, you shrugged. “And I don’t want you to have a different one”, you quickly added.

“Yes, but I’m not touring all year long”, he explained. “Now I can take my time. It’s been two years since I dropped my first solo album and only last year, I dropped Fine Line. Yes, when I’m on tour I spend a lot of time on it, but I also have a lot of time between one and the next. Especially now that it’s been postponed.”

“Harry”, you interrupted him. “Go to the point”, you chuckled.

“Yes, sorry”, he smiled a little. “I want to give it, us, another chance.”

Your mind went completely blank as he said the words. You had no idea how many times you had dreamed about this and, now that it was right in front of you, you didn’t know what to say. Suddenly, you felt scared, confused, lost. You loved him? Of course you did. Was this a good idea? You got no idea. You only knew that the first time almost broke you and you didn’t know if you were ready to go through that again.

Although it could work out this time, a tiny voice inside your head said.

What if it didn’t? What if you just didn’t work as a couple?

Luckily for you, just then the bell rang.

“Pizza!” You exclaimed and got up, relieved to have some time off from that conversation.

Harry looked at you as you ran to the door, obviously running away from him at the moment. He had no idea what to think of that. Did that mean you didn’t feel the same way anymore? You only saw him as a friend? Or maybe it was just that you didn’t see it coming and felt a bit overwhelmed? He wanted to believe it was the latest, but his mind kept on going to the worst-case scenario.

Anyway, the food was there and he figured that giving you time to take his words in wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Harry had already paid for the pizzas when he ordered them, so all you had to do was take them. Once you closed the door by pushing it with your foot, you went to the isle that separated the kitchen from the living room and put them on top of it.

“This smell amazing”, you said while Harry was walking around the kitchen gathering the dishes, glasses and napkins.

“I’m drooling just by the smell”, he agreed. “Do you want to eat here, in the living room or out there?”

“It’s a bit chilly out there”, you said. “Maybe the living room and we can watch something on Netflix?”

“Sounds good”, he nodded.

Silently, you two moved everything to the living room and set the table up. When it was all ready, Harry turned on the TV and logged into his Netflix account before he started looking for something to watch while you poured water into the glasses.

“What about Harry Potter and The Priosioner of Azkaban?” He suggested.

“You know me”, you smiled widely.

It was your favourite Harry Potter movie, so there was no way you would say no to it. Harry smiled warmly and nodded to himself.

“I do”, he sighed before pressing play on the remote.

***

“I’m surprised you watched the whole movie”, you said two hours later when the movie was over.

“Why?” Harry asked.

He stood up and started taking everything back to the kitchen.

“Well”, you got up too and took the glasses. “You always fall asleep during the movies I choose.”

“Technically, I chose this one, so it would’ve been rude to fall asleep”, he said while you handed him the glasses so he would put them into the dishwasher.

“It’s rude anyway but whatever helps you sleep at night”, you said with a smile.

“Are you saying I’m rude?” He asked with his eyes narrowed after he closed the dishwasher.

“Contrary to popular belief, Mr. Styles… I know the whole truth about you”, you said, crossing your arms.

“And what is that?” He asked, mirroring your position.

“That you can be rude sometimes”, you shrugged.

“Falling asleep during a movie is not rude. It is… tiredness”, he said, making you laugh.

“And you always have a reply for everything”, you said.

“I like to be prepared”, he shrugged.

“Like I said…”, you laughed and leaned against the counter.

Harry laughed out loud and shook his head before excusing himself to go to the bathroom. You stayed there in the kitchen, thinking again about what Harry had said just before the pizza arrived. You had barely paid attention to the movie thanks to that.

You had no idea where that proposition came from. It had been years since you two had had any conversation about your relationship and you had no idea what you wanted. Yes, you loved him. Yes, you wanted to be with him. But you feared that this was just about him feeling nostalgic. You remembered vividly the great couple you two were, but you didn’t know if you could go through that kind of heartbreak again.

“You know what I’ve been trying to get better at during lockdown?”

You jumped a little since you hadn’t heard him coming back from the bathroom.

“Surprise me”, you said, still lost in thought.

“Football”, he said. You looked at him with an eyebrow raised, trying not to laugh.

“Really?” You asked. “How did that turn out exactly?”

“Awful”, he admitted, making you laugh.

“I figured”, you nodded and sighed, looking down at your hands.

You felt him coming closer until he was standing right in front of you. Yet, you didn’t dare to look up.

“You okay?” He finally asked.

“Where did that come from?” You blurted out. When he didn’t answer, you looked up. He was frowning and the look in his eyes told you that he was measuring his words. “About us.”

“From… what I feel for you”, he said like it was obvious. “What I’ve always felt for you.”

“Right”, you sighed.

“Don’t you feel the same anymore?” He asked worried.

“I don’t think there’s a world, a universe, where I don’t feel that way about you”, you sighed.

“What’s the problem, then?”

“Why now? How do I know that this, you wanting more again, is not something that will just go away?” You asked.

“I’ve always wanted more from us, (Y/N). The only reason we broke up was because we couldn’t make it work with our lives. We can now”, he said. Hesitantly, he took a step towards you and held your hands. “I’ve loved you since we were 18. I can promise you it isn’t going anywhere. Ever. And neither am I.”

“It…”, you sighed. “It just hurt so much when we broke up, Harry. I don’t think I can go through that again.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t promise that”, you chuckled.

“I could”, he shrugged. “Because that’s a promise I plan on keeping.”

You looked down at your united hands and sighed. His hands had always been so big, way bigger than yours, which had always made you feel safe in a strange way. You bit your lip, not knowing what to do. You knew what you wanted, but you didn’t know if you were brave enough to do it.

“I love you”, you whispered.

“And I love you too”, he said back, rubbing your hands. “You’re my endgame.”

“Don’t use The Avengers against me”, you said, making him laugh. With a sigh, you looked up and it surprised you to find his green eyes so close to yours. “You can’t look at me with those eyes and expect me to give you a reasoned answer.”

“I don’t want you to follow reason”, he shrugged. “I want you to say what you really want.”

“You”, you said without hesitation. “Always. Every day.”

Harry smiled warmly and put some hair out of your face gently, before cupping your face.

Your heart was beating so fast and it felt so loud, that it surprised you that he couldn’t listen to it. You didn’t know what the right thing to do was, but you knew that reasoning about this wouldn’t get you anywhere. You knew you loved him, you knew you wanted to be with him. Maybe he was right. Maybe you could make it work this time. They said that third time was the charm, but maybe the second could be your charm.

“Is it a yes?” He asked, now looking at your lips.

“Yes”, you finally nodded.

His smile grew even bigger now before pulling you towards him and pressing his lips against yours. Just like every single time, you felt fireworks in your stomach. Ever since the first time you kissed him, you felt you could spend your whole time kissing him and would never get tired of it.

Maybe this time, you could do it forever.

#harry styles #harry #harry imagine #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #one direction #10 years #10 years of 1d #niall horan #zayn malik #louis tomlinson #liam payne #fluff #imagine #one shot #pitubea #original work

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Text

BeeTober 2020 Day 22

Abandoned - Warmth

I said I would write a coffee shop au and this is barely that. Twitter decided that it would be Xicheng, but NMJ was in the lead for a while so he gets a supportive role ;)

Jiang Cheng is going to kill Wei Wuxian the next time he sees him. He definitely will kill him, at least assuming he survives this rain without catching pneumonia and dying.

Jiang Cheng hurries along the sidewalk, grumbling under his breath and cursing his brother, because Wei Wuxian was supposed to meet him here like half an hour ago. Instead Jiang Cheng got a message telling him that Wei Wuxian got hold up at Lan Wangji’s—and Jiang Cheng is not so naïve to think that it could be anything but the promise of sex that kept Wei Wuxian from meeting him—and Wei Wuxian abandoned him in an unknown part of the city without a second thought.

And as if that wasn’t enough, it started to pour almost at the same time as Jiang Cheng read the message, because clearly that’s just his luck.

He is going to kill Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng thinks again when he steps into a puddle and cold water runs into his shoe. He definitely will this time, no matter what his sister says to Wei Wuxian’s defence.

Jiang Cheng continues to hurry along the sidewalk, hoping to find any open store or restaurant where he can take shelter, but luck is clearly not on his side.

Everything is dark and cold and Jiang Cheng shivers in his drenched clothes.

If he’s going to die because of this he’s going to haunt the shit out of Wei Wuxian. He better enjoy his evening with Lan Wangji, because it might just be the last he gets with him. Jiang Cheng will make sure that Wei Wuxian will never even think of sex again if he turns into a ghost.

The thoughts are not enough to warm Jiang Cheng, but they do keep him occupied and that’s all Jiang Cheng needs right now.

He looks up when he passes by a lit window and he’s stunned to see the cosiest coffee shop he ever came across. The light is yellow and warm, the smell from it sweet and even without the rain it looks so inviting that Jiang Cheng’s feet move on their own accord.

Not that he would have walked past this opportunity to get out of the freezing rain.

There’s a little bell announcing his arrival and it’s not long before a man comes out from the back. The coffee shop is empty—probably due to the time and the weather—and so his gaze unerringly falls onto Jiang Cheng.

Who came to a stop right behind the door, because he didn’t want to track water through the entire shop.

Right now Jiang Cheng is happy about his decision, because he’s not sure he could have survived looking at the other man from up close.

Even through the shop it’s apparent that the other is gorgeous and Jiang Cheng never did deal well with beautiful people.

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng says awkwardly when the man behind the counter doesn’t say anything and instead stares at him with wide eyes.

“You’re drenched!” comes the startled reply and Jiang Cheng looks down at himself and the small puddle he is standing in.

He winces.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says and points at the nearest chair. “I’ll just sit here and not make a further mess out of your shop, okay?” he asks and is in the process of moving towards the chair, when the man almost yells at him.

“No!”

Jiang Cheng freezes, just one step away from his puddle and he turns big eyes on the man.

“I mean, you’ll catch a cold like that. I have some spare clothes and a towel,” the man offers him and Jiang Cheng blinks at him in confusion.

“Do we know each other?” Jiang Cheng then asks and the man shakes his head, making his beautiful long hair swing with the motion.

“No, I don’t think we do.”

“Why the hell would you offer me this, then?” Jiang Cheng demands to know and now it’s his turn of being stared at.

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t change out of those clothes,” the man finally says again and Jiang Cheng looks down at himself yet again.

He’s still dripping all over the floor, probably making a miserable picture, and he has to admit, a change of clothes sounds heavenly right now.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng agrees and he is entirely unprepared for the way the other man’s face lights up with his smile.

“Come here, then,” he says, waving Jiang Cheng closer and Jiang Cheng sighs before he quickly makes his way over to him.

If he walks fast, he’ll make less of a mess of the shop, right?

“Come into the office,” the man says and now Jiang Cheng is close enough to read the name tag he’s wearing.

Lan Xichen, it says and Jiang Cheng spares half a thought to wonder if there’s any relation to Lan Wangji.

It would be plausible because they do share similar features, but Lan Xichen’s personality seems to be the exact opposite of Lan Wangji’s and so Jiang Cheng shakes that thought away.

“What’s your name?” Lan Xichen asks him and Jiang Cheng startles out of his musings.

“Jiang Cheng,” he introduces himself and goes slightly hot when Lan Xichen smiles at him again.

“Ah, nice to meet you, Jiang Cheng,” he says. “I’m Lan Xichen.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng blurts out and then feels a traitorous warmth creep up his cheeks when Lan Xichen frowns at him. “Your nametag,” he quickly explains, because he does not want to come off as creepy and Lan Xichen chuckles.

“Right, I forgot about that,” he mutters and then pushes Jiang Cheng down on a chair.

“Wait here, I’ll get the clothes and towel,” Lan Xichen instructs him and then leaves Jiang Cheng alone.

Jiang Cheng is too stunned to do anything but sit and wait for Lan Xichen’s return and so he startles when someone else steps into the room.

“Who are you?” the man demands to know and Jiang Cheng shrinks on the chair, because this man looks like he might be able to break Jiang Cheng in half if he wants to.

And going by the glower on his face, he definitely wants to.

“I’m—,” Jiang Cheng starts but he doesn’t get further than that, because Lan Xichen returns.

“Ah, Mingjue, he came in all dripping wet, please don’t be angry. He’s not a burglar,” Lan Xichen says and smiles at Mingjue.

“Jiang Cheng, in case that makes you feel more reassured,” Jiang Cheng offers and then simply has to endure how Mingjue looks from him to Lan Xichen and back.

“You’re going to mop up the mess you tracked in,” Mingjue finally decides and Jiang Cheng let’s out a relieved breath.

He already saw his life flash before his eyes, this is a rather good outcome, if anyone were to ask him.

“Sure,” he easily agrees, and he sees the way Mingjue eyes his suit pants and the dress shirt.

Jiang Cheng might look like the business man he is, but he is no stranger to all kinds of work, and mopping a floor is hardly the worst thing he’s ever done.

“Just point me towards the cleaning stuff, and I’ll get right on that,” he tacks on and Mingjue narrows his eyes at him.

“I will,” he promises and then looks back at Lan Xichen, an eyebrow raised.

“You should change first,” Lan Xichen says with a nod to Mingjue—and Jiang Cheng can identify unspoken communication when he sees it—and hands Jiang Cheng some clothes and a towel.

“I probably should,” Jiang Cheng grimaces and tugs on his drenched shirt.

Lan Xichen nods again, and then he just stands there, looking at Jiang Cheng without making any move to leave and give Jiang Cheng some privacy to change.

“Do you—have a bathroom?” Jiang Cheng finally asks and it’s only when Lan Xichen drags his eyes away from his chest, that Jiang Cheng realizes that his shirt is almost see through thanks to the rain.

“Yeah, oh, sure,” Lan Xichen rambles and points behind him. “But you can totally change here, I’ll leave you to it,” he then quickly goes on, turns around on his heels and leaves.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click and Jiang Cheng is left to blink after him. He doesn’t think he imagined the red tips of his ears, but Jiang Cheng pushes that thought far away.

Instead, he concentrates on changing out of his ruined clothes. He quickly dries himself off as best as he can, taking extra care to rubble his hair dry, and then he changes into the offered clothes.

They are all just a little bit big on him and Jiang Cheng wonders if they might belong to Lan Xichen himself.

That thought sets off a dangerous warmth in his belly and Jiang Cheng scoffs at himself.

No need to get ahead of himself. Those are probably the only clothes that were around.

Before Jiang Cheng can fret over this any longer, he bundles his wet clothes up in the towel and then steps out of the office.

“Do you have a bag?” he calls out into the shop, and he takes a reflexive step back when Mingjue comes up to him, mop already in his hand.

Damn, he really is one imposingly tall man, Jiang Cheng thinks and he almost has to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Sure,” Mingjue says and pushes the mop at Jiang Cheng just as he takes the clothes out of his hand.

“Xichen is out there,” he then says and walks away without further instructions.

Jiang Cheng frowns but he makes his way into the shop and he does find Lan Xichen there.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen whispers when his eyes fall on Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng feels strangely self-conscious.

“Something wrong?” he asks and tries to smooth his hair down.

He knows it must look like a mess, but there wasn’t a brush and so there’s nothing Jiang Cheng can do about that.

“Not at all,” Lan Xichen gives back, a little bit breathless and Jiang Cheng groans.

“Okay,” he unsurely agrees and then decides to concentrate on the job he has. “I’m gonna start with this then,” he says, lifting the mop and Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“Oh, no, don’t bother, Mingjue was joking about that.”

Jiang Cheng doubts that Mingjue has joked about anything in his life so far, and so he keeps a deadly grip on the mop when Lan Xichen tries to take it from him.

“I said I would clean up my own mess, and I will!” he says and Lan Xichen seems like he wants to fight him on that, but when Mingjue comes out from wherever he hid he let’s go of the mop.

“Good,” Mingjue says with a nod, and Jiang Cheng has no idea why that approval makes Lan Xichen flush.

Jiang Cheng gets to work and since he didn’t leave that big of a mess, he is done rather quickly and then decides to simply keep going. Surely they must be preparing to close by now and he interrupted their whole routine.

The least he can do is help.

Lan Xichen tries to object when he realizes what Jiang Cheng is doing, but Jiang Cheng distracts him with a little bit of small talk and before Lan Xichen can blink, the whole floor is done.

“There,” Jiang Cheng says, weirdly proud of himself and smiles at Lan Xichen, who simply blinks at him.

“You really didn’t have to,” Lan Xichen tries once he jolted himself out of whatever stupor he was in and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“It’s the least I can do, after you gave me these clothes. It was very lucky that you had some spares around here.”

“We didn’t,” Mingjue suddenly says from behind Jiang Cheng. “Those are Xichen’s, and he usually guards them like a dragon his hoard. He doesn’t like it if other people wear his clothes.”

Jiang Cheng frowns, as he plays with the hem of the soft shirt, while Lan Xichen makes a strangled noise and when Jiang Cheng looks at him, he sees the flush on the tip of his ears again.

“Do you give them to many drenched customers, then?” Jiang Cheng asks, though he can barely be classified as a customer, since he didn’t even buy anything.

All he did was make a mess.

“Nope,” Mingjue cheerfully says, and from the corner of his eyes Jiang Cheng can see how Lan Xichen makes some frantic gestures. “Only to cute, grumpy ones, apparently,” Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng presses his lips together.

“A-Jue!” Lan Xichen yells out in outrage and Jiang Cheng watches in delight as the flush travels all the way down to his neck.

“Alright, my work here is done,” Mingjue says, smug as anything and drops a set of keys into Jiang Cheng’s hands. “You seem like the reasonable type, so make sure Xichen doesn’t forget to lock up after you are done with whatever,” he says with a wink and now it’s on Jiang Cheng to blush while Lan Xichen splutters in the back.

“Mingjue!” he yells again, but Mingjue doesn’t pay him any mind and simply walks out on them.

“Uhm,” Jiang Cheng says eloquently and eyes the keys in his hand. “I’m sorry?” he then offers, because clearly Lan Xichen is more than embarrassed and that finally gets Lan Xichen to look at him.

There’s a strange look on his face and Jiang Cheng can’t deny that his heart beats a little bit faster in his chest.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” Lan Xichen asks him, clearly powering through his embarrassment and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“My brother stood me up,” Jiang Cheng offers and is not prepared for the smile that breaks out on Lan Xichen’s face.

“Lucky me, then,” Lan Xichen says and walks past Jiang Cheng to get behind the counter. “Stay for a drink then?” Lan Xichen offers and Jiang Cheng finds himself nodding before he can give this anymore thought.

“I’d stay for more than that, too,” Jiang Cheng finds himself saying and while he wishes the ground would open itself up to swallow him whole, Lan Xichen beams at him.

“We do have the shop to ourselves,” Lan Xichen says with a wink, even though the red on his cheeks turns a colour darker and Jiang Cheng itches to taste his flush.

Maybe he’ll get to, once they finished their drinks.

(He gets to do that and so much more, though they do have to clean the shop again afterwards. And Jiang Cheng does have to remind Lan Xichen to lock up behind him before they leave to continue what they started at Lan Xichen’s place. Nie Mingjue has the audacity to high five both of them when he sees them the next time.)

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #beetober 2020 #untamed fall fest #mdzs #the untamed #xicheng #coffee shop au #modern au #first meetings #flirting #fluff

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yuta1forme · 4 years

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like magnets | ten

summary: in which you and ten are up and coming choreographers who are forever at each other’s throats. but maybe fighting is just an excuse to get close.

pairing: ten x reader

genre: angsty fluff

warnings: some swearing, alcohol mention, loads of bickering

length: 4.3k

tag list: @sly-merlin @animegirl366 @yonoohcore

He’s confident to the point of arrogance. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. When the pair of you start fighting, all the other dancers make their way out of the studio, not wanting to get involved in another explosive Y/N-Ten showdown. He counters your every suggestion. He always has more critique for your performances than praise.

And yet, he is the best dance partner you could ever ask for. He matches your poise with his passion. In dance, you both have found a middle ground.

When Ten first joined the studio you really wanted to like him. He was a young, up and coming dancer from Thailand. What you had not seen coming was that besides being the same age, you and Ten had precious little in common. The day you first met Ten, you had decided in less than ten seconds that you two would never, to put this lightly, become the “best of friends”.

You had entered the break room of the studio that day, late and soaking wet because of the heavy downpour that had begun the night before. Hungry and disgruntled, all you had wanted to do was to grab a steaming cup of green tea and the last of your favorite jelly doughnuts. Only the thought of those jelly doughnuts had you hanging on during your hour and forty-five-minute long journey to work this morning. They were your emotional support food, your one and only indulgence. After almost three years at the studio, all the other dancers knew not to touch your jelly doughnuts. All except for the bucket-hat wearing Thai newbie who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Those were my doughnuts”, you had barely managed to huff out, focusing your mind on not raising your voice or worse, bursting into tears.

Now, if he had just apologized for eating them without asking you first, you both might not have started off on the wrong foot. No, the fucker just shrugged and said, “Didn’t see your name on them”. No shame in his eyes, not an ounce of regret in his voice. The powdered sugar from your doughnuts still around his mouth and dusted over his all-black ensemble. That fucker.

“So people just waltz into a room and eat someone else’s snacks where you’re from?”, you asked, your pitch becoming shriller with annoyance.

“No of course not. Because where I’m from, people don’t leave their snacks where everyone can see them, without putting their name on it first”, he replied, cool as a cucumber.

Taeyong had entered the break room at this point. He took one look at the powdered sugar on Ten’s face and the eyes-gonna-pop-out expression on yours and connected the dots. As one of the senior choreographers in the studio, Taeyong had developed a sixth sense for sniffing out conflicts before they broke out.

“Y/N! I see you’ve already met Ten! He’s the new dancer from Thailand. Ten this is Y/N”, Taeyong had prompted by way of introductions, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and inching closer to the door he had entered from.

“Oh, you’re Y/N. The one who choreographed the last Pink Cashmere comeback, right?”, Ten had asked, suddenly sitting up straight. Seeing that your conversation was turning civil, Taeyong had left the room just as quietly as he had entered it.

“Yes, that would be me”, you had responded. That was your first time working with an idol group and was a milestone in your career. You had spent weeks running on pure adrenaline and Americanos (and the occasional jelly doughnut), spending day and night listening to the new comeback track, reviewing concept photos and looking up old performances to get their style down just right. When you watched the girls perform the choreography for the first time, you were so immensely proud of yourself, you hadn’t stopped beaming for days.

“I should’ve known it was you, it had your signature footwork style all over it”, Ten had said, nodding his head slightly. You had felt flattered at that, surprised that anyone had even picked up that you had a certain trademark in your choreography.

“But, I thought it was too showy if you know what I mean”, Ten had continued, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a slight frown on his face.

You were almost embarrassed at how much his words affected you. While you were used to internet trolls taking jabs at your work, it was something entirely different to hear full-blown criticism from your peers. As the youngest choreographer in the studio, you rarely got challenged when it came to choreography, with most of your colleagues wholeheartedly encouraging you to spread your wings and grow no matter the outcome. It probably was not intentional on their part but it had become a fear of yours - what if nobody would outwardly challenge your decisions because they thought you were too weak to handle the truth?

Still, you felt a need to defend your creative decision. You needed to stand up for yourself. “The girls are great dancers and I thought a more challenging choreography would push them out of their comfort zone. Sooji and Maya were actually part of a hip-hop dance crew pre-debut. They were itching to try out a new concept”.

“But why not use more formations in the dance? It’s an eight-member group. You could’ve used that to your advantage”, Ten had countered. He made a good point. But you didn’t want to concede to him. Who did this man think he was? Walking in here and questioning your vision as a choreographer?, you though to yourself.

“Most of the other girl groups that came back around that time had similar songs but only Pink Cashmere had a distinct choreography. I wanted to make their choreography memorable”, you had said.

Ten had remained quiet for a while. “I didn’t think of it that way”, he had replied, a thoughtful look on his face. “In that case, I think you succeeded at whatever you set out to do with that choreography. It was definitely memorable, Y/N.”

He turned his gaze up towards your face and flashed you a sweet smile. He looked like a whole different person, almost innocently brushing powdered sugar off his cheeks like a mischievous cat who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have done.

Your whole first interaction with Ten had confused you. First he walked in acting like he owned the place, critiquing your choreography as if he was a veteran dancer. But then he had just as easily praised your abilities. But at the back of your mind you had this nagging feeling that whatever Ten had said to you was not in an effort to undermine you, unlike some of the backhanded compliments delivered by your peers. He had criticized you because he thought you could take it, because he thought of you as an equal. And you kind of enjoyed that.

Arguing with Ten became a part of your everyday routine thereafter. So did labelling your snacks with your names and leaving passive-aggressive messages on post-it notes.

At nineteen, you gave up a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious law school in your country and moved to Seoul with a single suitcase and your old school backpack in hand. Your family had threatened to cut off contact with you if you left the country, but you left anyway; Your passion for dance was stronger than your fear of losing them. Dance was your first love. You lived and breathed it. Like hell were you giving up on your first love that easy.

You worked odd jobs during the day and filmed original choreographies for your YouTube channel during the night. After struggling for over a year, your hope slowly dwindling, you got a notification that changed your life. Kim Jongin, one of South Korea’s ballet prodigies had shared one of your videos on Twitter. Your subscriber count had quadrupled overnight, with hundreds of thousands of commenters dubbing you a “prodigy”. Fate brought you to Jongin, who then introduced you to Taeyong, who brought you to SM studios.

It was a dream come true - for years you had only struggled, floating in dark and murky water, swimming forward towards a hazy future. Now, you had thousands of fans, dozens of supportive friends, and a solid foundation from where you could dream. Your friend Hendery liked to joke that you would need more than twenty-four hours a day if you wanted to do everything in your planner. And truth be told, he was right. You had given up a lot to pursue your dreams. Given up on your family, most of your friends, your home country. You wanted to make sure it was all worthwhile. So you wanted to spend every day making the most of the opportunities that you now had. You went to bed each night with a head full of ideas and woke up every morning with the fire to bring them to life.

Of course, dedicating your life to your craft came at a cost. The rest of the world had not stopped moving just because you decided to make dance your life. This dawned on you one rosy Valentine’s Day evening, when you, date-less for the fifth year running, quite naively decided to scroll through Instagram. Amongst the sea of pink, flowers and picture-perfect happy couples were two faces that made your stomach instantly drop - your ex and a stunning woman posing for the camera with their fingers intertwined. On her ring finger, a diamond the size of a blueberry.

You remember the day you broke things off with your ex like it was yesterday. You were at the airport, waiting to get on your flight to Seoul, positively buzzing with nerves. You had waited until you were seated on the plane to send your ex a rather heartless text message saying you were breaking up with him to find yourself and that it was best if he forgot you. Very dramatic, even for you. But you were nineteen and had just watched ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’. In return he had left you an equally dramatic voicemail, pleading with you to not end the relationship and proclaiming that he would never stop loving you. You had all but laughed at his message then.

You weren’t laughing anymore though. He was happily engaged, while you were lonely, lying in bed on Valentine’s day in a pizza grease-stained sweatshirt. You had spent the last few years working relentlessly which had given you a career that you could be proud of, friends you could rely on. But besides the occasional fling here and there, you didn’t have much in terms of a romantic life. You guessed you deserved this, that karma had finally caught up to you. Didn’t stop you from feeling like shit though.

So you did what you always did when you felt particularly shitty. You went down to the studio, turned the music on full blast and dove right into a new choreography. You were freestyling, too lost in the moment to hear the door creak open.

“I gotta hand it to you, Y/N, that was pretty impressive!”, a male voice exclaimed. You had spun around expecting to see Sicheng or Hendery at the door. Instead, you were met with a tired but rather amused looking Ten.

He was dressed in a white silk shirt and a pair of black slacks. You noticed the roses in his hands, slightly wilted but still beautiful nonetheless. He was clearly dressed up for a date. He looked striking as always but you didn’t linger too long on that, thinking that it was your romance deprived mind projecting thoughts onto the first attractive male it saw.

“What are you doing here? It’s Valentine’s day, don’t you have a crowd of screaming fans to attend to?”, you asked sarcastically.

“One date. And they stood me up, actually”, he replied with a bitter smile. He must have been quite upset if he didn’t have a snarky response for you.

You were truly taken aback. Ten? Getting stood up by someone? Ten, who could charm the socks off of anyone he set his eyes on, getting stood up on Valentine’s day?

“But how?”, you blurted out, instantly regretting it when you saw the quizzical look on Ten’s face. Yet you foolishly continued mumbling, or rather digging yourself deeper into a hole.

“I mean, you’re just...so...you”, you said vaguely gesturing at his whole form. From his boyish good looks to his ability to sweet-talk, Ten’s charms were undeniable. Ever since he joined the studio, the number of signups for the afternoon classes had doubled. Dozens of people would come to the studio every day, just to catch a glimpse of him. And he indulged them all too, flashing them his signature grin or paying them a cheeky compliment. If only you weren’t all too familiar with the way he could run his mouth during an argument, you too might have fallen for his charms.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Y/N, but I’m not quite the Casanova you expected me to be. But I will take that as a compliment”, he said with a wink that had you resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here though”, you mumbled out.

“I like to choreograph at night. I think I’m my most creative after midnight. Besides I just got my heart broken and I should channel that emotional energy somewhere right?”, Ten said feigning nonchalance. You could tell he was genuinely upset from how his night had played out and couldn’t help but sympathize with him.

“Well, I’m here for reasons along similar lines. You could join me? Help me choreograph this new freestyle piece I’m working on?”, you had asked.

Ten cocked his eyebrow at you, clearly not expecting you to extend an olive branch to him in this manner given how you were still being snarky with him five minutes ago. But he accepted your offer nonetheless.

You both entered your element pretty quickly, letting the music move your body freely. You worked out a simple choreography, cheering for each other when you came up with a particularly impressive move. You were having fun, even though you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. At least you hadn’t thought of your ex in the last couple of hours, mind completely occupied with the thought that you and Ten surprisingly made good dance partners. Perhaps the friction between the two of you translated to great chemistry when you were dancing. Taeyong would be pleased to know that.

“I’m beat”, you exclaimed, slumping down on the floor after the final round of practice. Ten sat down next to you, resting his back against the mirrored wall. The pair of you sat wordlessly for a few minutes, letting your heartbeats slow back down. You lay flat on the floor, too physically exhausted to move. As soon as you closed your eyes, your traitorous mind brought back the images of your ex’s engagement and you groaned loudly.

“Long day?”, Ten asked, giving you a slightly concerned look. You just chuckled bitterly in response.

“Want to talk about it?”, Ten pried in an almost uncharacteristically gentle voice. You wondered if he had ever spoken to you in that tone before.

“I don’t know if we’re close enough to have little heart-to-hearts yet Ten”, you replied. There was an invisible wall between you and Ten that you were just not ready to tear down. The thought of sharing embarrassing details about your love life with someone you could consider a frenemy at best, too jarring. You didn’t miss the way Ten’s shoulders slightly slumped at that. You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, yet you felt somewhat guilty.

“But…maybe we are close enough to have a drink together?”, you asked, suddenly emboldened by a rush of confidence that confused even you. You took his cheeky smile as a yes.

You spent the rest of the night drunk and giggling with Ten. The thoughts of your ex were long forgotten. Perhaps you could learn to do more than merely tolerating Ten’s presence. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy his presence too.

Soon it became a ritual - if you and Ten were the last ones left in the studio, you would grab some beers and head to the roof. It was such strange departure from your usual selves that you often wondered why it was so easy for you to enjoy his company sitting under the stars like this when you would be at each other’s throats the rest of the time.

Over time your conversations had gone from discussions about art, to plans of travelling the world, what you were currently binge-watching on Netflix, and everything in between. Still, there were some topics that you both steered clear of - talk of family and love lives was seemingly off the table.

Until one night after a couple of drinks, when Ten pulled his phone out to show you a picture of two women, one older and one younger. The striking resemblance between the faces in the photo and Ten confirmed that they were indeed his mother and sister. His sister was clad in a dark blue graduation gown and his mother was holding a beautiful bouquet of light pink roses.

“She graduated last week, my baby sister”, Ten said practically glowing. The proud look on his face was a testament to the close relationship he had with his sibling.

“You must miss her a lot”, you said, voice barely a whisper.

“All the time. My family are my biggest supporters. I don’t think I would have had the courage to move out here on my own if it weren't for their encouragement”, Ten answered.

You hadn’t spoken to your family ever since you came to Seoul. In the past, the longing left a pressure in your chest that sometimes made it feel like your throat would close, choking you on your guilt. Now, it just left you numb.

“What about you?”, Ten asked, cautiously prying into your personal life.

“What about me?”, you countered, diverting your gaze away from the man sitting next to you, instantly wary of how much you wanted to share about your past.

“What about your family? Your old home?”, Ten asked.

It couldn’t hurt sharing with Ten, right? It’s not like what he thought of you really mattered to you. Right?

“I actually don’t keep in touch with my family any more. They weren’t too keen on me becoming a dancer. It’s been, what, three? Three and a half years since I last saw them. When I first left home for Seoul”, you said, trying your hardest to suppress any trace of emotion in your voice. You kept your gaze focused on the city skyline ahead of you, too afraid to turn and see the expression on Ten’s face. You wondered what he thought of you, whether he thought you were stubborn. Worse yet, whether he pitied you.

After a few moments, Ten broke the silence. “I guess sometimes, not having a family is better than having one that doesn’t love you for who you are. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t possibly know how you must have felt, all these years. But I want you to know that the people who love you now, love you without any agenda. Not because they are related to you by blood, not because they are obligated to love you. But because they just love you”, Ten said, eyes shining with an emotion you didn’t know how to react to.

“And they could be your family too”, he finished in a voice that was so warm, so gentle, you wondered if this really was the Ten who stole your jelly doughnuts when you first met.

You were speechless, processing his words for what felt like hours but was probably just a few seconds. Then you did the only thing your impulsive mind could think to do - you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. In response, he wrapped you up in his embrace. You stayed still, focusing on the faint scent of his cologne on the sleeves of his hoodie. You breathed out a thank you, soft as a whisper. Whether or not Ten heard you, he moved his left arm slightly, gently stroking your hair and continued to chatter on about some entirely different topic.

You knew that once the sun came back up and both of you returned to your lives inside the studio, this little moment would not be brought up in front of anyone else. That moment was just for the two of you to share and bury deep within your hearts.

You knew you were in too deep one day when Ten gave you a friendly smile in passing while making his way to the break room, and you felt your cheeks and neck heat up. You had finally let the Thai dancer charm his way into your heart.

Typical Y/N, you thought to yourself, Falling in love with any cute boy who gives you attention. But he wasn’t just any cute boy. It was Ten. Ten, your frenemy turned close confidant. Ten, who would send you pictures of cute animals he saw on the street just because you once told him you wanted to adopt a cat. Ten, who took you dancing to a club in Hongdae when you were feeling low and all but carried your drunk ass back to your home. Ten, who over the last couple of months had heard every single one of your deepest insecurities and had still chosen to stick by you. Ten who had just left a box of jelly doughnuts in the break room, next to a post-it note with your name on it. To make matters worse, you were supposed to start working on a new collaboration together this week, a contemporary piece set to an R&B slow jam. How were you meant to work with him all week when you could barely make eye contact with him? You had to physically restrain yourself from facepalming.

You spent the week, evading conversation with him beyond work and some small talk to fill the silence. But none of your usual banter. You had even turned down his suggestion to grab dinner together several times that week, to the point that even typically non-confrontational Sicheng had picked up that something was off.

“Why have you been avoiding Ten all week? I thought you guys had given up fighting?”, Sicheng asked after he cornered you one day.

“Avoiding him? Now, why would I do that when we’ve been working together all week?”, you had chuckled nervously, desperately looking for an out from this conversation.

“He’s been sulking around since Tuesday, Y/N. He said he doesn’t know what he did to upset you”, Sicheng had asked you sharply.

The guilt in your eyes must have been apparent because Sicheng dropped his voice into a gentle whisper for what he said next.

“I know the two of you are as good at dancing around your feelings as you are at dancing on stage. But maybe try talking to him, Y/N? I think right now, you two might have more in common than you think”, Sicheng told you as he gave you a knowing look.

The day of the performance shoot came and there was a noticeable awkwardness between you and Ten. You decided to cut the tension by apologizing to him, citing the nerves for the performance as the reason you had been on edge the whole week. Whether or not Ten believed you, he accepted your apology and wrapped you up in his arms. You wished you had psychic abilities so you could read his mind. Did he have the same butterflies in his stomach right now?

As soon as the music started any nervousness you felt around Ten melted away. Dancing with him was like second nature to you by now. The song started with you on stage alone, dancing under the single spotlight illuminating the stage. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes, following your every move and observing you with nothing short of adoration. You left the stage for Ten’s solo and you could feel the goosebumps on your skin from watching him perform. He was absolutely stunning, moving fluidly through the movements as though he was painting with his body on the canvas of the stage. You joined him on stage for the chorus, dancing apart but facing one another as though mirroring the other’s movements. Through the bridge you inched closer and closer to one another. You felt your heartbeat beginning to rise from the proximity.

Both of you could communicate with each other with your eyes alone. You danced perfectly in sync with one another, pulling apart only to fall right back into each other, just like magnets. So different yet inseparable. You could see it in his eyes, when he looked at you, that the emotion in his mirrored yours. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he audibly gasped as you melted into his embrace for the final move. His heartbeat was racing a hundred miles an hour, just like yours. The pair of you stood there, lips just a few millimeters apart, breathing deeply as the studio erupted into thunderous applause. You were no longer afraid to admit to yourself and to the world, that you had it bad for Ten Lee.

And when he kissed you on the rooftop that night, you knew that he had it bad for you too.

#ten #ten scenarios #ten angst #ten fluff #ten imagines #nct #wayv #nct ten #wayv ten #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #wayv angst #wayv fluff #moonrise

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

15.12, le tits now, trent baretta

Title: le tits now ( let it snow wrapping paper used wrongly, ftw.)

Theme: Wrapping paper

Fandom / Character(s):Trent Baretta, AEW

Warnings: It’s flirtatious and a little comedy. Oh and definitely over the top fluffy. That’s p. much it.

Word Count: uhhh... roughly 2k.

This is my entry to @champbucks 12 Days Of Christmas Challenge for the day.Listen.. I was shown a picture by my bb @schizoauthoress that I immediately took and ran with. So.. thank them for the inspo. The wrapping paper is supposed to say let it snow, but instead, it’s wrapped horribly enough that it reads le tits now. Annnyway. I went full on sexy rom com funny with this, so I really hope ya’ll like it? I had way too much fun writing it.

BTW>. i made the banner thing. No stealing.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif

@sassymox

@champbucks

@hungmanhorsecarriage

@wardl0w

@ryantaylorgirl

@dilfmoxley

@hotyeehawman

@gabbynorth98

@bec0m

@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

@daddyslittlevillain

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The baseball cap was being passed around Catering and for the most part, I ignored it. Only vaguely noticed it. Hell, if I’m being honest, I was only halfway listening to Brandi Rhodes as she explained the ‘rules’ that went along with Secret Santa.

Kris leaned in and elbowed me, whispering with a soft laugh, “I hope I get OC.”

“I don’t care who I get as long as it’s not Hager. Because I can’t punch him in the dick and call it a present to humanity.” I mumbled, shrugging lazily as I scrolled Twitter.

More to the point, I may or may not have been scrolling Trent’s Twitter… For the fourth time that day. As soon as Kris caught onto it, she smiled and teased quietly, “But you’d really like it if you got Trent’s name.. Right?”

“I mean.. I wouldn’t exactly complain.” I answered Kris, putting down my phone and looking up at her, laughing softly. I could feel someone staring at me but I didn’t bother turning around. It was probably Hager again, being gross.. Again.

The baseball cap made it’s way to our table. Kris went first, pulling out a slip of paper.

“Ooh.”

“What’s ooh? Did you get OC?” I asked, teasing a little.

“No, actually.” Kris was giving me this smug little smirk. I pretty well knew she wasn’t going to tell me just yet. And it didn’t really bother me.

I eyed the baseball cap. “Well, here goes nothing. Please baby Jesus in the manger, don’t be Hager. Don’t be Hager..” I reached in and grabbed at two slips, letting the first one settle back in the hat and pulling out the second. I opened it, eyes scrolling over the writing on the page.

“Oh thank god. It’s not Hager.” I may or may not have said it a little too loud, because at the table behind us, I heard Chuck Taylor start snickering, immediately launching into an impersonation of Hager that prompted me to turn and laugh as I nodded and gave him the thumbs up.

“You have to sound dumb as a brick next time though, Chuckie.. Man’s as dumb as a brick.”

“Noted, darlin. Who did you two get, huh?” Chuck asked Kris and I.

“We’re not supposed to tell! That ruins the whole surprise!” Kris’ eyes went wide. I laughed and shook my head. I nodded my head subtly towards Kris when she was preoccupied and Chuck smirked, leaning in to whisper, “Just shove her in a room with Orange. Pretty sure it’ll make both their Christmas real jolly.”

“Noted, Chucky boy.”

Knowing that Chuck was one of exactly 3 people who kind of knew about my little crush on Trent, I leaned in a second later and whispered, “Any idea who got Trent’s name?”

Chuck shrugged but he waited and leaned across the aisle when everybody else was occupied or talking and muttered quietly, “If I find out, I’ll send ‘em your way.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I got Kris, but I’ve already got her a present or two.” I explained. And honestly, after that I totally forgot about the whole thing.

XXX

“Who did you get, man?” Chuck asked the question because Trent was.. In deep thought mode and hadn’t been listening to at least the last ten minutes of the conversation currently going on around him. The question was enough to pull Trent out of his deep thought and Trent chuckled, raising his hips so that he could dig around in the pockets of his jeans to find the slip of paper he’d drawn earlier that night in Catering when they all drew names.

Chuck took the slip and looked at it, promptly chuckling.

“So you’re going for it, huh?”

“Mhm. Was there any doubt though, Chuckie?”

“Good. Good, man.”

Orange spoke up from the back. “I got Trent.”

Trent chuckled.

“Thinkin about tradin though. Found something I wanted to get Kris.”

Chuck rubbed his chin thoughtfully and filed away what Orange revealed for later. Maybe he’d run into his friend again later, when he didn’t have Trent and Orange hanging around.

Orange eyed Chuck and asked, “Who’d you get?”

“Stunt. I’ll get the kid some guitar strings and a few picks or something. That’ll be a damn breeze.”

“Excuse me, did you say you were trading my name, Orange? I thought we were buds.” Trent pretended to pout and Orange rubbed his chin, smirking as he shrugged. He sank back against the backseat and dragged his fingers through his hair. “We are. Just thought it was time I did something.”

“Yeah, same thing with me. I get it, man.” Trent explained. And he smirked to himself, because he had more than a few ideas just how he could go about what he had in mind.

XXX

I’d just stepped into the hotel lobby when an arm shot out from behind the christmas tree tucked away in the corner. I’d been just about to start swinging when I realized it was Chuckie.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“I have news.”

“Yeah?” I eyed him, wondering what the hell was up. When he explained that he knew who’d gotten Trent’s name and that this person might be willing to trade, especially if I had Kris’ name… I nodded, smirking and giving Chuck a high five. “Take me to this person. Let’s do this. I’m ready for things to… Finally come out.”

Chuck gave me this smirk that gave me the distinct feeling that there was more that he wasn’t saying, but instead of pressing him for it, I chose to follow along. We wound up by the vending machines and while I waited and Chuck texted whoever he was telling me about just a second or two ago, I got myself some junk food and a few sodas for the night, promptly popping the top on a wild cherry Pepsi and taking myself a seat on the floor, my back to the machine.

About a minute later, Orange Cassidy appeared, leaning lazily in the doorway, smirking as he rubbed his chin. “She’s the one, huh?” and he went quiet again, as if he were in thought. “You have Kris’ name?”

“I do, yeah. I already got her presents that I want to give her… Hey, wait… Are you looking for her name specifically?” I flashed Orange a teasing grin and he shrugged, answering with a quiet “Maybe.”

I dug around, producing the slip of paper, holding it out. Orange dug the slip of paper with Trent’s name on it out of his jacket pocket, but before he handed it over, he gave a teasing smirk. “At least you’re cool.”

“I,uh.. Thanks I think?” I dragged my hand through my hair and gave a soft laugh and as we switched names, I asked, “This stays between us… Right?”

“Definitely. See ya around. Chuck, Trent’s looking for you.” Orange nodded towards the check in desk. After another second or two of Chuck teasing me and saying that he should have known I had a thing for Trent because apparently I wasn’t as good at hiding it as I thought I was, Chuck and Orange left, leaving me sitting there to finish off my Pepsi in silence as I waited on the line at the check in desk to die down just a little.

And as I did that, I scoured a few shopping sites, trying to settle on what exactly I wanted to get Trent for Christmas, while mumbling to myself audibly, “I should just show up on the night we’re to meet up face to face in a big red bow…”

From behind me, I heard Kris giggle.

“So you did get Trent…” Kris mused, flopping down to sit beside me. I smiled and nodded. There was absolutely no way I was going to ruin the whole surprise where Orange willingly trading around til he wound up with her name was concerned, so for now, I saw no need in mentioning that I’d traded.

“It might be a little cold for your idea just now.” Kris cautioned and I gave a laugh, shrugging it off. “It was just a thought. I think I’m gonna get him a gag gift the first night.. Something that’ll make him blush.. Oooooh.. Hey.. do you feel like going to that adult store in town with me in the morning before we hit the gym?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Massage oils. And a new neck pillow for flights. He gets the worst tension in his neck I’ve noticed..”

“Flavored massage oils?” Kris taunted, poking her tongue out at me.

I pretended to be shocked and gaped at her. “I.. Never said that… I mean, not exactly...”

“I know how your mind works, A.” Kris teased me gently and I gulped, blushing a little over how well she managed to call me out just now. “That is an idea to file away for the future… I mean.. If this all doesn’t backfire in my face.” I pulled myself off of the floor that I’d been sitting inappropriately on, and I reached out, grabbing for the heels I’d pretty much abandoned upon entering the building.

“Still think those new stilettos were good for tonight?” Kris was teasing me again and I laughed it off as I debated on whether I actually wanted to put them back on and have my feet screaming at me in sheer agony.

I quickly decided that no, no I did not feel up to that tonight.

“They made my ass in these jeans look amazing, so yeah. Yeah I do, Kris.” I taunted, making her laugh and shake her head as she remarked, “Opposites attract is definitely true in your case, huh?”

“God, yes.. And speaking of opposites, there he is now..”

I stared like a helpless idiot as Trent walked past with Orange and Chuck flanking him. Chuck managed to look back and catch me staring, holding up two fingers. To anybody else that would’ve been a peace sign. But to me, that was a reminder.

I had two nights until I was face to face with Trent, revealing myself and probably, everything I felt for the guy.

XXX

“You’re actually giving her the present.. Wrapped like that.” Chuck was trying his best to hold in laughter. Almost failing miserably, but he was trying. Trent eyed the box he held in his hand and smirked at Chuck, nodding. “I am, why? What the hell is wrong with my mom’s leftover wrapping paper, huh?”

,, for starters you wrapped it so bad it reads le tits now, but hey.. You do you, buddy.” Chuck could’ve said it, but what Trent was doing was a huge deal. It was something Trent probably should’ve done a while ago, as opposed to just keeping his feelings to himself and going above and beyond to kind of keep his distance from the girl in question unless they had to interact.

Because yeah.. While all the quiet staring and the pining going on was cute as hell between the two, it was getting to a point where the sexual tension was so heavy that literally everyone around them was suffering for it also.

“Tonights night one, man.”

“That it is, Chuck.” Trent took a long and deep breath, almost as if he were centering himself. He waited until no one was looking and made his way into Catering, over to the decorated tree that sat on top of a table in the back already loaded down with presents.

And when he knew the coast was clear, he stuck the box on the nearest pile and quickly, he walked out of catering.

XXX

Everybody was already crowded into Catering when Kris and I made our way into the room and found a seat close to the door. I let the stilettos on my feet hit the floor with a soft thud and tugged my hair free. The blazer I’d been wearing that evening to conduct my two backstage interviews was sitting on the tabletop in front of me, right next to my travel bag.

Britt named herself Santa for the night, so she was calling out names. I was talking quietly to Kris, only half listening for my own to be called.

We were trying to anticipate who we might have gotten. I was trying to resist the urge to tell Kris that Orange had gotten her name. I was more than a little excited for her because just the sheer joy that she had over having managed to get his name was enough to make me truly happy.

I wasn’t terribly worried about who might have gotten my name, because the important thing here was that I’d taken steps to make sure I wound up with Trent’s name. That I was finally doing something I should’ve done months ago.

Britt must have called my name more than a time or two, because I looked up to find Brandi standing over me, trying not to double over laughing as she held out a hastily wrapped gift.

The wrapping paper caught my eye immediately. Whoever wrapped it had chosen wrapping paper that was pretty.. Shiny and sparkly, with silver snowflakes and pale blue lettering. The bow tied on the package somehow did not fit the packaging itself, but honestly, I just couldn’t stop staring at the way Let It Snow was turned into Le TitS now because of the way my Secret Santa had hastily wrapped the box.

I swallowed hard, getting a bit of a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach because at this point, I was at least 90 percent sure that the wrapping paper itself was a clue of some sort.

“Le TitS now, huh? Hager, are you the secret santa? Because if you’re behind this, man.. I can personally assure you, you dumb fucking Okie, you are.. Not even on the bottom of the very short list of men I’d willingly show my tits to.” I mumbled aloud.

“Well? Are you at least going to open it?” Kris asked from beside me. Brandi was watching expectantly too and under the pressure, I tore into the gift after neatly removing the way the bow had been tied so pretty and so carefully.

I wanted to keep that.

“Ooh, you’re gonna keep the bow, right?”

“It’s beautiful, Fuck yes.” I answered Kris as I gaped at the black velvet box in my hand. The other hand raised, catching in dark waves and tousling as my mouth opened and closed. “This is.. Okay.. Let me breathe here, I…”

I was at a complete and total loss for words suddenly.

And when I opened the box and spied the silver necklace with a shooting star pendant that I’d probably made 3 trips past a certain jewelry store in the mall in town just to stare at it…

Jake Hager spoke up from behind me.

“If you want, darlin. I can fasten it.”

“Ew, no! Fuck right off, you dumb Okie. Oh and if you’re the one who got me this, thanks but… This is as far as it goes, Hager. You’re not, nor will you ever be… Seeing any tits.”

Jake gave me a blank look and shrugged, wandering off. Kris was trying not to die laughing from beside me, as were Chuck,Trent and Orange from the table across from ours. I turned to Kris and held it out carefully. “Will you put it on? You’re probably the one other person I trust to do it without trying to cop a feel at this rate.”

“Except the guy you wish would cop a feel.” Kris muttered, making me gaze briefly at Trent, watching as he opened the tiffany blue and white wrapped gift box that contained what I’d gotten him.

When I saw the way his eyes lit up, I let out a ragged breath. Somehow, I got the feeling that he’d enjoy the controller. And the neck massager pillow that he was putting around his neck already, a goofy grin playing at his lips as he sank back against the booth and muttered aloud, “Nobody talk to me. I’m takin a nap.”

I couldn’t resist saying something.

“It’s.. heated, I think? There’s a little button on the back to turn on the heat. I..”

,, you absolute goof, what the fuck are you doing, A?” my mind shrieked as soon as the words left my mouth. I covered quickly, the words tumbling out of my mouth almost breathlessly as Trent’s eyes fluttered open and locked on me intently. When he licked his lips while still staring, I had to cross my legs under the table.

“It does, huh? Awesome.” Trent flashed me that cocky grin and I wanted to melt. If I thought forming words was a bit of a struggle before, compared to now, it seemed so much easier.

“Yeah.. I uhh.. I have a pink one.” I finally managed to stammer, going back to my own conversation and gushing over the necklace sitting around my neck out loud and excitedly with Kris.

I mean, it wasn’t a lie. I did have a pink one exactly like it. And a red one. And I’d actually said a lot more than usual to him tonight. Without stammering or saying the wrong thing entirely like I tended to on occasion.

XXX

“Did you see her face light up?” Trent was still on cloud 9 after watching her open the secret Santa gift earlier in the night. Now he was texting his mother to see if the gift he’d gotten her for the last night of the gift exchange had shown up yet.

Chuck spoke up, chuckling. “Was funny as hell when she told Hager he didn’t stand a chance in hell, man. And then when he tried to sneak up on her under that mistletoe that Brandi put up earlier, her threatening him with her shoe.”

Trent chuckled, even though his jaw set firmly and he grumbled. Right after Jake had tried pulling that stunt, he’d gotten the guy off to himself and quickly told him if he caught him attempting it again, he was going to take him outside.

Lucky for Jake, Chuck and Orange managed to get between the two. Because Trent was personally beyond fed up of the disgusting way that Jake behaved around her all the time. She shouldn’t have to threaten the guy with mase or a knee to the nuts to make him leave her alone.

No woman should.

“You know.. You could’ve done it, man. You could’ve snuck up on her.” Chuck teased his best friend as he glanced over at him.

“I’m saving that for tomorrow, Chuck. I have a plan, remember?”

“Says the man who wrapped the gift so that it read ‘le tits now’.” Orange chuckled from the backseat.

Chuck and Orange burst into laughter and Trent grumbled, smiling and laughing as he flipped them both off. “Yeah, well neither of you saw to point it out either.”

“I assumed you could read the damn packaging? My bad, Trenty.”

“I was just too caught up in getting to the arena and giving it to her, man. You know I’ve been waiting to do this a while!” Trent groaned as he let his head fall back against the headrest behind it and laughed.

“Maybe you should just let Sue wrap it this time, huh?”

“That’s not entirely a bad idea.” Trent chuckled as he said it, texting his mom to ask if she’d mind wrapping the present for him when it finally got to her place the next morning.

“She knew it said that too?” he grumbled aloud a few seconds later when his eyes scanned his mother’s response text.

[ mama bear ] I wanted to tell you before you left but you were so excited…

[ mama bear ] Did she like the necklace, son? I thought it was beautiful…

[ trentylocks] She loved it, mom. Was excited, doing that cute thing where she talks loud and giggles a lot, talking with her hands. Just wish me luck for tomorrow, please? I’m gonna need it.

[ trentylocks ] She loved the bow you tied just as much, by the way. ;) She kept it. When I saw her leaving the arena, she had it tied around her wrist.

[ trentylocks] Did you still want me to invite her over for dinner?

[ mama bear] You talk so much about her, of course! I have to meet her. Make sure she’s sweet enough for my baby.

[ mama bear ] I see you, trying to get her brownie points. But I’m glad she liked the bow. Says a lot about her that she kept it.

Trent slipped his phone back into his pocket and started to nod off, awakening when Chuck cleared his throat and asked aloud, “So what did you get her for tomorrow night?”

Trent smirked. “For the actual present, I got her a photo album. Because remember that time we were in the airport and her luggage burst? And the pictures inside it went everywhere?”

“Awww, for a cranky jerk, you can be sweet sometimes, Trenty.”

“Look who’s talkin, bigger cranky jerk. I also got her an actual warm blanket. Because she’s always walking around with that fuzzy pink thin one draped around her like she’s cold as hell. And roses. But I’m not givin’ her those until we’re face to face.”

“You giant sap.” Chuck teased his best friend as he grinned. “If it helps, man.. I don’t think you have to worry about tomorrow night going south. I think things might surprise you with how they turn out.”

“Oh you do, huh? What are you now, a psychic, Taylor?” Trent asked, giving Chuck a raised brow, wondering why he got the feeling that Chuck definitely knew more than he was saying.

“No, I just know how to read that particular girl, Beretta.” Chuck smirked, not even having to look over to know that Trent was giving him a dirty look at the reminder that Chuck had become friends with her first.

XXX

[ dad] Well, how did the secret santa go, sweetpea?

[dad] did this Trent like his present?

I smiled as I read the texts from my dad while standing in line to check into the hotel. After a second or two, I answered.

[sweetpea] He did! I’m glad I took your advice and didn’t try to go overboard. Now it leaves the romantic part for tomorrow night. Thank you, sir!

[sweet pea] remember that necklace I told you I was thinking about getting myself? The one like mama’s? I don’t have to… apparently, my secret santa knew somehow that I liked it and got it for me?

[ sweet pea ] But the way they wrapped the present, oh my god. I nearly died laughing.

[dad] you should call around. Find a restaurant. Your mama.. She liked cozy candlelit dinners. Just a thought.

[ dad] they did, huh? That’s good! Be careful driving to the hotel, sweetpea. The news said snow for your area tonight.

[sweetpea] Night, daddy. Don’t stay up all night watching the news or Blue Bloods. Go to bed, sir.

I put my phone away and at the tap on my shoulder, I turned. I found myself body to body with Jake Hager. I raised a brow and bit my lip, stepping away from him as quickly as possible. “What’s up?”

His eyes settled on the necklace and he chuckled. “Do you really think I’d have bought you that cheap lookin crap if I were the guy, princess?”

I glared and started to turn around, rolling my eyes. But Jake produced roses from behind his back. I eyed the roses and him and laughed as I shook my head no. “Life pro tip, Jacob.. Save the flowers for your actual girlfriend? Stop wasting your time with me. I have an ideal man and you sir, are not it. And you never will be.”

“Yeah? How about given a guy a chance?”

A throat cleared from behind us and a look around Jake revealed Trent standing there, muscular arms folded over his chest as he smirked at Jake.

“Do you have a fucking hearing problem, Hager? Or are you really that damn dense? She’s told you a thousand times to get bent by now.”

Somehow, in the midst of all this, I wound up right between Trent and Jake.. with my back pressed right against Trent’s chest. I gulped and tried like hell to hold myself together, but it just wasn’t working.

“Hey, whoa.. Can we just not, boys? Please?” I knew Jake would ignore me because he always does, so when I asked the question, I chose to turn.. Body to body with Trent.. And lock eyes with him, biting my lip and giving him my best pleading look.

Because holy hell, is it awkward when people make a scene like this.

Trent was glaring, tensing up all over. But at my question, he seemed to un-tense just slightly, tearing his eyes off of Jake to gaze down at me. “Yeah. He’s not fucking worth it anyway.”

“Exactly, Trent.” I muttered quietly, swallowing hard because I was lost in deep brown eyes and I knew it. And I couldn’t pull myself away from him, either.

The clerk’s throat cleared and gingerly, I managed to finally break gazes with him and stepped back, pouting before I turned to face the front and check into the hotel.

XXX

“You ready for this, man? Tonight is the big night.”

Trent chuckled, nodding. “It is. My mom came by earlier and dropped this off. Already wrapped.”

“You got the roses right, buddy?”

“Mhm. Over there.” Trent nodded to a dozen long stemmed red roses. Almost the same vibrant red as the lipstick she always wore.

He smoothed a hand over his hair and eyed the stupid jacket he was wearing. “This is a bit much.”

“It kind of is, man. A isn’t.. She’s not into male model types, man. Just dress comfortable.” Chuck shrugged as he chuckled. Trent took off the jacket and tossed it lazily at the second bed in the room and after he grabbed his key, he started out the door.

“I won’t wait up for you, man.”

Trent paused and gave him a laugh and shrug as he stepped out and into the hallway.

On the surface, he seemed calm, but on the inside?

An actual nervous wreck.

He knew she liked the presents she’d unwrapped in Catering earlier in the night, she hadn’t been without the blanket that he’d gotten her to unwrap there for the duration of the show. And as soon as she’d opened the photo album, she got the softest smile on her face, trailing her fingers over the cover.

She’d looked around the room and then gone back to whispering to Kris. But he’d managed to over hear her say that she knew it wasn’t Hager, because Hager had the emotional depth of a teaspoon and never would’ve thought to get her something as thoughtful as an actual photo album as opposed to her just tossing her photos in her luggage every time she went on the road.

Trent took a deep breath and made himself focus as he stood waiting on the elevator, goofy grin on his face.

He was meeting her at the town square because there was this huge christmas tree there and he liked the way her eyes lit up every time she saw it. It felt like time dragged at a hellish and slow pace from the time he was out in the parking lot, waiting on the Uber he’d called, to the time that Uber was pulling to a stop at the little park.

When he got out, he caught sight of her, approaching from the opposite direction. So he hung back, watched her walking past as he worked on getting himself reasonably pulled together and mentally prepared to reveal himself to her.

He let her settle in on the bench closest to the lit up tree and after a few deep breaths, he stepped out, roses in hand, clearing his throat.

XXX

[galaxybae] well? Is anyone there?

[galaxybae] are you sure this dress I borrowed was a good idea for tonight, A? I feel so damn naked right now…

[galaxybae] answer your texts woman.

[brunettebarbiedoll] not yet.. What about on your end? See anybody familiar?

I typed in the response to her first text and briefly, because i felt the sensation of being stared at intently, almost to the point of literal eye-fucking… It had my thighs clenching. It had me sitting up, alert and looking around, then pouting when I didn’t see anyone right away. I wandered over to the lit Christmas tree, a soft smile coming as the warm twinkle of soft white lights shined on me.

I felt good about tonight. Tonight’s secret santa gifts had pretty much blown my fear and theory that Hager was my secret Santa out of the water because Hager lacked the emotional depth and the practicality to pick out the gifts that my secret Santa had chosen for me.

At the thought, I snuggled tighter into my jacket, wishing I’d lugged the oversized plush winter white throw blanket along with me for both warmth and the comfort it made me feel.. As if I were being wrapped in a warm embrace whenever I had it wrapped around me.

And it didn’t go amiss by me that it smelled familiar somehow. Like a cologne I’d smelled somewhere, on more than one occasion.

And that thought further had me giving a soft and sappy smile over the thought of the gift. My fingers drifted upward, lingering at the shooting star charm that hung from the necklace that had been my gift the night before.

And I realized that I still hadn’t answered Kris’ two other texts. I sighed and looked around again, still seeing nobody around and yet, still feeling as if I were being visually fucked somehow.

Not in bad way though. Just… hungry, maybe.

,, it’s just the frenzy you’ve got yourself worked up into.”

I eyed my watch. I hoped my secret Santa showed themselves soon, because I still had to get through revealing myself to Trent.

And boy, was I ever a bundle of raw nerves over it.

[brunettebarbiedoll] Still nobody. I guess my secret Santa is gonna remain a secret? Either way, I’m kind of starting to get really nervous because I still have to wait on Trent to get here and reveal myself.

[galaxybae] Don’t you dare leave!

[galaxybae] Oh.. Oh.. i.. I think my person is here. Gotta go, bye!

I smiled to myself and put the phone away just as I felt my eyes being covered with something and then felt myself being turned around, what felt like flower stems being placed into my hands. I caught a whiff of the same cologne that I’d smelled on the blanket earlier and I swallowed hard. “Hey, no fair. You’re supposed to reveal yourself, sir.” I managed to get the words out as my body brushed against hardened muscle when I was pulled closer. So much closer. And arms wrapped around my waist.

I gaped as the fabric that had been placed over my eyes was lowered and it gave way to me standing body to body with Trent. Who was staring down at me intently, this soft smirk playing at his lips.

“Trent?”

“Mhm.” he chuckled quietly, a hand moving from it’s resting spot across my lower back to drag through thick dark hair.

I couldn’t help the fit of giggles that came. He eyed me with a brow raised and when my giggle fit finally died away, I explained with a teasing smile, “I was supposed to be meeting you here to reveal myself to you.”

His eyes widened and he chuckled. “Vanilla massage oil, hm?”

“In my defense, you always seem tense?” I bit my lip as I laughed softly. I was melting into him, awestruck at the realization that my forehead hit almost perfectly at the center of his chest. He used his grip on my body to pull me up a little and I wrapped my legs around his waist, making him laugh as our mouths brushed against each other clumsily.

“Was it an offer though, hmm?” Trent questioned, licking his lips as his eyes locked on my mouth.

“Possibly. I mean, I am pretty good at massages...” I teased, daring to trace the outline of his mouth with my tongue. Which only had him tangling a hand in the hair at the back of my hair and pulling my mouth against his completely.

The kiss broke and we pulled apart. I climbed out of his arms and leaned against him, raising to tiptoe to press another kiss against his lips as I muttered, “Are you hungry, Trent?”

“I could eat, yeah.. Why?”

“Well, there’s this cozy little place about a block away, I.. Kind of thought that maybe if things went okay when I had to meet you here, I’d ask you if you wanted to go with me?”

He grinned and slipped an arm around me, pulling me into his side as we made our way down the sidewalk.

“Did you wrap the first present the way you did intentionally?”

“No, I didn’t actually.” Trent answered, giving a sheepish laugh. “Did you think I did?”

“Well, when I thought was Hager, I didn’t think it was a stretch to imagine that yeah, he’d purposely done it. For the record.. If you wanted to see my tits, all you had to do was ask.” I teased, not stopping to think how suggestive what I said actually sounded until it left my mouth and I saw Trent’s jaw drop, and a flash of hunger flash in his eyes as he leaned down and muttered against the shell of my ear, “Ya know… I might actually take you up on that, doll.”

#12daysofchristmas #12 days of christmas #trent beretta imagine #trent beretta fanfiction #trent beretta fanfic #trent beretta imagines #trent beretta one shot #my writing; trent beretta #my fics; trent beretta #my oneshots; trent beretta

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

overturned (egd)

ethan’s tried everything to get you to hear him out, and you aren’t budging until a news article on twitter changes everything in an instant

word count: 4.7k

requested by: anon (thank you bby!)

warnings/tags: angst angst angst angst, did I say angst???, but in typical lynds weak bitch fashion it ends up okay at the end 🥴

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

You were running out of counter space, and that was saying something. The kitchen was beginning to smell like a florist shop, rich and beautiful with the number of bouquets. Luckily, they’d all come in vases, or you wouldn’t have had enough containers to keep them in.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang again. You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, already feeling guilty. When you opened the door, it was the same sweet woman who had been there everyday, twice a day at least, for the last 6 days.

“Hi Mary,” you sighed. You’d begun a bit of a friendship with her, the exchange of her handing over the flowers commonplace now.

“Hi Ms. Y/N. Those are particularly good ones, I think the shop found a new supplier. Blue hydrangeas are hard to come by, especially out here. He must be paying a fortune for those,” she said, raising her eyebrows. You knew that - your favorite flower wasn’t common in California.

“Money isn’t really an issue for him,” you mumbled, holding out the water. “Here, take this, I know it’s hot out. I’m sorry you keep having to come out here for all these. You’d think he’d take the hint.”

“Oh nonsense honey, I don’t mind at all! It’s actually quite heartwarming.” She took the water, offering you a warm smile.

“Heartwarming?”

“To see young love so strong. Most people these days just give up and move on. He’s persistent.” Mary gave you a look that was laced with meaning, like she was trying to convince you of something. But she let it go quickly, sensing she may have gone too far.. “Well, I’ve got more deliveries to make. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

You waved as she got back into the delivery van and pulled out of the driveway. Pulling the door behind you, you carried the bouquet in and sat it amongst the others, her words ringing in your ears.

Persistent. That was one word for it. Guilty might be more fitting.

It’d been a week since your argument, and you were still wrestling with the whole thing. The fact that you could play the entire thing back, word for word in your mind, wasn’t helping anything.

-----

“You can’t keep doing this,” Ethan said, leaning back against the couch. The fact that he was being callous about it wasn’t helping matters in the slightest.

“The hell I can’t. Don’t try and put this on me Ethan, don’t you fucking dare.”

“What the hell did you want me to do?” He snapped back.

“Just fucking tell me. That’s literally all I ever ask for you to do, and you just keep hiding shit from me!”

“I’m not hiding anything, you’re just paranoid.”

Wrong answer.

“Oh, okay, you’re right. Yeah, just paranoid. Well, hope you don’t mind, I’m gonna go spend the whole day with my ex. Oh wait, shit, shouldn’t have said that, too much information for you.” You spat the words, the anger you’d been holding in finally bubbling to the surface.

“We were filming, it’s for work.” His tone was short, anger escalating.

“I understand that. But you could have at least told me that’s what you were doing, instead of some vague ‘oh I’m just filming a collab’ bullshit. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

“I don’t tell you shit because you always react like this! Everything I do makes you pissed at me!” Ethan said, exasperated.

“No, I react like this because you don’t tell me in the first place! You never ask me if I’m okay with anything-”

“I shouldn’t have to!” He was yelling now, something he never did. He knew how you got when people raised their voices, knew how it made you feel. “You don’t get to control my life! I’m my own fucking person!”

“Control your life...” you breathed it out, shaking your head in disbelief. “Right. I control you. I control you, but I’m the one who can’t ever post a picture with my boyfriend, can’t post a snapchat because people might realize that we’re together, can’t go out without telling you where I’m gonna be. Can’t have my clothes in your closet in case it’s in the back of a video, can’t leave our room when you’re filming in case my fucking reflection or the sound of my footsteps end up in shot. I can’t hold my own boyfriend’s hand in public, I can’t go on a date without security there. But you’re right, I’m the controlling one.” The tears were coming now, and Ethan’s eyes were wide. You made it a point to never complain about the things that life with him entailed - it was always worth it. But right now, you let them fly. You wanted him to know, to realize, to fucking appreciate exactly what you did every day, just for him. Maybe it would make him understand why you were so upset.

“I-” He started, but you cut him off.

“I give up so many little things, every fucking day, and I do it for you. And I ask you for one fucking thing - just to give me the respect of telling me when you’re gonna be around your ex for work, and you can’t even give me that. Just one fucking thing Ethan, that’s all.”

“You knew what you signed up for when you decided to date me.”

You weren’t sure what response you were expecting, you weren’t even sure what response you wanted. All you knew were his conceited words were the final straw.

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

-----

When you came back out of the memory, you were gripping the flowers so hard you were surprised you hadn’t broken the vase they were in. With a deep breath you went to the counter, scooting another vase to the side to make room for the new ones.

You pulled the card from the small holder nestled amongst the flowers. Your name was scrawled on the outside of the envelope in Ethan’s handwriting.

You never thought that handwriting could make your heart hurt. With delicate fingers you pulled it open, fishing out the tiny card provided by the florist shop.

I never thanked you enough for everything you gave up for me. I’m sorry. I love you more.

The tears were instantaneous, just like they were every time you opened one of the notes. They were all gathered in a little pile by one of your candles, each one a small declaration from Ethan.

I fucked up.

I can’t imagine my life without you. Please call me back.

Please give me a chance to make it up to you.

I miss you so fucking much.

But it didn’t matter what he said - each one ended with the same four words, and that’s what brought the tears every time without fail.

I love you more.

You could remember the first time he’d said it. Toes in the sand at the end of a picnic blanket on the beach, fire behind you keeping you warm as you watched the waves crash. His arm had been around your shoulder, you were leaning into his chest. And you said I love you to him for the first time.

And he’d responded with ‘I love you more’, as if that was the only correct response.

“What?” You’d asked.

“Well, you love me. Take that and add just a little more, and that’s what I feel for you. So, I love you more.” He explained it as though it was common sense.

And it had become the most unplanned little trademark in your relationship that you cherished more than you realized. Every time you said I love you, that was his response. When you were leaving for the day, when he made a stupid joke, cuddling in bed, after sex, when you were done singing terribly in the car.

He never missed one, never forgot.

You were realizing now that you’d taken advantage of what it really felt like to be loved like that.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping at your eyes. You’d cried too much over the last few days, not having enough distractions to keep the memories and thoughts at bay. You couldn’t even use your phone - the missed calls and texts were too tempting to respond to. You needed to hold strong, and really think about everything when you were rational enough to figure out what you wanted to do.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Ethan anymore - you’d always love him. In fact, it was that maybe you loved him too much. Maybe you were giving up too much to fit your life into his. You wanted the simple things, the little things in your relationship. You wanted to go get ice cream with him on friday nights, hold his hand while you shopped, post stupid instagram stories and snapchats. You wanted to be able to talk to your friends about your own boyfriend and not be afraid that they might be using you to get information to sell to tabloids. They were little things, but they were still part of the ideal relationship you always dreamed about having.

And you knew that Ethan did it to protect you. He didn’t want fans harassing you any more than they already did, didn’t want you in danger. You’d been around for the stalker, and he’d almost broken it off right then for your own safety. But you’d stayed, and you’d followed his rules and you’d given it all up.

You did what you had to, but you never really thought about how it made you feel. Were you being selfish? Maybe. But part of you needed to be - you were bad about putting other people’s problems in front of yours, pushing down what you wanted, what you needed, in order to appease everybody else.

So as badly as you wanted to, you didn’t call him. You didn’t text him, you didn’t facetime him. You put your phone in a bag with a towel and some sunscreen, changing into a bathing suit and heading out to enjoy some California sunshine.

The pool in your neighborhood wasn’t as nice as the one at the boys house, but it would do the trick. It was part of the reason you’d decided to rent the place, but you’d only used it a few times. In fact, you might as well have given up your lease for the last 6 months anyways - you were rarely anywhere but Ethan’s.

Maybe that was it. Maybe you just needed some time to yourself, to figure out how you’d changed over the last year of your relationship, figure out who you were when you weren’t with him. Either way, you were going to have to talk to him about everything eventually - and you needed to get your mind settled on exactly what you wanted before you said anything.

You laid out on one of the lounges, closing your eyes and trying to relax. But the images wouldn’t stop rolling behind your eyelids, like a slideshow of all the best things you never wanted to forget.

And Ethan was in every single one of them. It didn’t matter how hard you tried - anything worth remembering and reliving had him written all over it. Your road trip across the US, he was right there in the passenger seat. The fourth of july when you’d gone camping and set off fireworks - he was the one with the lighter. The first time you’d caught a wave surfing, he was the first thing you saw when you turned back, arms raised high as he cheered you on, loud enough for the whole beach to hear.

This was going to be harder than you thought.

You fought within your mind for a few more hours, reaching farther back, back before you’d met Ethan, trying to find memories. It worked for a little bit - some trips you took when you were younger, late nights with old friends. You were finally getting the hang of it when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Uh, ma’am? Sorry, but you’ve gotta leave.” You opened your eyes, blinking up at the boy who’d tapped you. He was a young teenager, you could tell, and after spotting his whistle and red shorts you realized it was the lifeguard. “There’s a storm coming in, supposed to be pretty bad,” he added.

“Oh. Okay, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, trying to orient yourself again. As you packed up your things, you looked up to see a rolling dark cloud coming in above your building. It was rare that it even rained in LA, much less stormed.

Guess your mood really could bring the weather.

You went back to your house, assaulted by the smell of the flowers after being out of the room for so long, and changed into shorts and a tank top. You couldn’t tell if it was getting darker from the sun going down or from the storm. Either way, you decided it was time for dinner - cooking would keep you occupied enough.

You pulled up an intricate recipe, one you knew would take a lot of focus and time, writing down the instructions so you could pull up Netflix on your phone and watch a few episodes of your favorite show. The more things on your mind, the less space for Ethan to creep in.

The method worked, and you moved around the kitchen, cutting up herbs and mincing garlic, enjoying the process and the relief from your thoughts. You frowned when you looked over the tops of the flowers on the counter - the sky outside was so dark that it could have been midnight. You paused, heading over to the doors.

As soon as you opened them, you realized that the storm was going to be a bad one. The wind was whipping, and the temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You’d never seen a storm come through LA like that.

“Damn,” you muttered, closing the door and locking it before heading back inside to finish up your dinner. Even over the sound of your show and the air conditioning, you could hear the wind outside. Eventually it even began to thunder - you didn’t mind. Storms were always your favorite weather.

You know who didn’t love storms? Ethan. He hated them. You were hit with another memory, from when you’d flown home to New Jersey with him. A storm had rolled through, with harsh winds and hail, and he’d clung to you through the whole thing, making sure you stayed at his side and away from the windows. He couldn’t sleep that night, and you’d stayed up with him watching harry potter to keep his mind off of things.

He wasn’t going to be doing well during this storm, that was for sure. You were overwhelmed suddenly with the thought of him alone in the house, curled up on the couch under a blanket. Just the thought of it made you sick to your stomach - you hated seeing him upset.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you were suddenly surrounded in darkness.

‘What the fuck?” You moved to the light switch, testing it.

The storm had knocked the power out. Lovely.

“Well... pb&j it is then,” you sighed to yourself, turning off the burners on the stove and abandoning your dinner plans that definitely required electricity. It was like the universe was playing some sick joke - oh you wanna ignore your problems and distract yourself? Nice try.

With a lost appetite and nothing else to do, you retired to the couch, deciding to just keep watching netflix as the storm rolled outside. You expected it to blow over, but even after two episodes it was still raging outside. It sounded a bit like your house was going to come apart at the seams.

Trying to ignore it, you kept watching, dismissing your phone’s notifications of 20, then 10 percent battery. You were sure the power would be back on soon anyhow and you could charge it.

And then everything happened very quickly after that.

It started with a text from your best friend. You swiped down so you could read it.

have you checked twitter? wtf is going on

You frowned at that, exiting out of your texts and opening the app. You didn’t get on often - usually it was just slander, but occasionally you would check to see what was going on in the world. And even though it had been a while, your notifications were much, much higher than usual.

It only took a second for you to realize why. The article had been sent to you at least a dozen times, all with messages of concern attached. But you couldn’t read any of them - all you could see was the TMZ headline.

Dolan Twin involved in major LA crash, scene shut down

And right below it was an image of a mangled white tesla, upside down on the side of the road.

You couldn’t breathe. That was Ethan’s car. Ethan was in that car.

“Oh no, oh no no no no,” you groaned, immediately closing out and going to your contacts. He was the first one on the list of recents, and you immediately clicked to call him.

The dial tone came through three times before the call disconnected.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you cried, going to your text messages.

are you okay? was all you had typed, and then your screen went black.

Your phone was dead.

“FUCK!” you yelled, panic overriding everything else. In the back of your mind you knew that you had a power bank somewhere that you could charge your phone off of, but the thought of looking for it wasn’t even feasible.

By the time you found it, you could be halfway to their house.

Without another thought you ran to the table by the door, grabbed your keys and sprinted to your car.

The rain was coming down in sideways sheets, droplets stinging against your bare skin as they hit. Even though your car was right outside, you were soaked by the time you threw the driver’s door open and climbed inside.

You fumbled with the keys, trying to start the car, hands shaking. You were a mess. It wasn’t going to do you any good to get to try to get to their house if you didn’t make it there yourself.

“Okay breathe Y/N, breathe,” you mumbled, turning the key and starting to back out of the driveway. The rain was relentless, your wipers going as fast as they could on the highest setting as you started down the road. You drove painfully slow, lucky to find that there were very few people out on the roads. You could hardly see in front of you at all.

In the back of your mind, you weren’t even sure why you were going to the house. He wouldn’t be there. Maybe Grayson was there. Grayson would know what to do.

The drive that usually took 10 minutes took 20 this time - you couldn’t go over 25 without losing your visibility entirely. Your heartbeat was through the roof the whole drive, and you were blinking the panicked tears away as they came so you could see. Both hands were gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles were white until you got to the house. You pulled up to the small box that unlocked the gate, typing in the code without thinking.

The power was out. The gate wasn’t going to open.

“Fuck!” You yelled again, still panicking. In a moment of insight, you remembered something. When they’d installed the gate, you’d been there to help supervise, and the installer had shown you all something.

“There’s a reset code that will activate the battery pack in here. In case you ever get locked out, or there’s no power. Just type it in and then type in your usual code and it should open right up.”

“Shit, shit shit,” you mumbled, reaching out the window and trying to remember the code, remembering the numbers but not the order. 6736. No. 3766. No dice. 7663. Nothing. Finally, you tried again. 7636. The buttons lit up blue, signaling you’d done something right.

You quickly typed in the code, letting out the breath you’d been holding when the gates began to swing open. You rolled up your window and pulled up the driveway, throwing your car in park and climbing out immediately into the rain.

And to your confusion, the driveway was full. The Porsche was parked in it’s usual spot, the Bronco behind it. Ethan’s Jeep was to the side, and there right in front of you was the Tesla, in perfect condition, parked and waiting.

“What-”

“Y/N? What the fuck? What’re you doing?”

When you turned at the voice, you could have fallen to your knees right there in the rain.

Standing outside the front door, still under the stoop and protected from the rain was Ethan, whole and unharmed.

Every doubt you’d had, every question you’d asked yourself about what you wanted and what you needed over the last few days was suddenly irrelevant. None of it mattered. You’d do anything, you’d do everything for him. There wasn’t a single fiber of your being that questioned it anymore. He was the only man you were ever going to love, and you’d been dumb to think otherwise, even for a second. You were meant to be with him, and that was the end of the story.

You ran straight for him, dropping your keys on the way and barreling into his arms. He caught you, the force of it almost knocking him off his feet.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong, what’s goin’ on?” He carried you inside, into the dark, and it wasn’t until you were out of the wind and the rain that you realized that you were sobbing. You could hear the gasps coming from you, like they were being ripped out with hooks. You knew you were scaring the shit out of him, but you couldn’t get enough of a breath to even say anything. All you could do was cling to him, relish in the reassurance of having him there with you, perfectly fine and alive and safe. You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in as best you could through your gasps.

He seemed to realize that you were incapable of speaking, so he sat down on the couch, you in his lap pressed to him as tightly as you could be. He wrapped his arms around your back, squeezing you to him in the most blissful way as the sobs continued, rough and ragged.

“Sweetheart, you’re shakin’ like a leaf. You must be freezing,” he mumbled, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around your back. You were still soaking wet, and you knew that the water would probably ruin it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you hurt? Baby please - talk to me.” He pulled back just enough to look at your face, and even just that tiny loss of contact was excruciating.

“Are you hurt?” He repeated, some of the worry leaving his eyes when you shook your head no. “Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I saw an a-a-article, and I t-thought-” you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out, you just broke down again.

“I saw it too. They already took it down, and their asses are getting sued,” Ethan said, a bitterness in his tone that you weren’t used to.

“I thought it was your car, I thought it was y-y-you,” you stuttered, burying your face in his neck.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call?”

“I tried- it disconnected.”

“I was probably on the phone with the lawyer,” he mumbled his explanation, still unsure. “But hey, I’m okay, I didn’t even leave the house today. I’m safe, and I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” you whimpered, the tears still coming.

“Tell me what to do, tell me how to help,” he pleaded, obviously at a loss. He’d always told you he hated seeing you upset, even a little bit.

“Just hold me, please,” you asked, feeling vulnerable but knowing it was what you needed.

“Okay. Okay.”

He wrapped his arms around you even tighter, pressing you into his chest. His arms were strong and stable as they coiled around your waist. You focused on the feeling of them around you, holding you steady as he rocked side to side, so subtle that you weren’t even sure that he realized he was doing it. You breathed him in, the smell a mixture of his skin and his deodorant and the ghost of the cologne you knew he’d put on that morning. It was the most grounding thing you could find besides his voice in your ear, whispering sweet reassurances.

It took a few minutes, but you were able to breathe again, body finally processing out your adrenaline and allowing you to stop shaking. He didn’t let go, even when the tears had ceased - he kept his hold, leaning his head against yours, pressing kisses to your temple, your neck, your shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered when you got to the point where you could trust your voice, sitting up and taking a deep breath.

“Me and smooth cat are just fine,” he said, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first time you’d laughed in a week, and it felt almost foreign.

“There’s that smile I’ve been looking for.” Ethan breathed out a sigh of relief, reaching up to wipe your tears. When he did, you laid your cheek in his palm, so thankful for the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I’m sorry you thought I died. But I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” he admitted, staring at you, eyes tracing the features of your face in the candlelight. You’d barely even noticed they were burning, giving off just enough light for you to see each other.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you smiled. You couldn’t believe you’d ever thought you could live without him.

“Did you get my flowers?”

“Which ones? The first bouquet or the 15th?” You teased.

He blushed at that, cheeks turning your favorite shade of pink. “I went a little overboard huh.”

“I made friends with the flower delivery lady,” you shrugged.

“Of course you did,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

“I missed you too. I missed us,” you sighed.

“Does that mean... does that mean we’re okay then?” He asked it nervously, obviously scared of what you would say.

You watched the relief cross his face when you smiled. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Oh thank god,” he said, hugging you to him again. The blanket fell off your shoulders and you shivered as the cold air hit your skin again. You weren’t dripping wet anymore, but you were still damp, the occasional droplet falling from your hair and onto Ethan’s shirt.

“Well in that case, let’s get you warmed up huh? And get you away from these windows.”

You let him carry you to his room, past his bed and into the bathroom where he sat you down and started running a bath and lighting the candles he always kept on the sides of the tub for you. It was as easy as breathing to undress and climb into the water, feeling it warm you up from head to toe. Though the most relaxing part was when Ethan climbed in behind you, leaning you back gently so you were resting on his chest.

And when you rolled over just slightly so you could look at him and tell him that you loved him, you knew exactly what he was going to say. The words were so much sweeter falling from his lips than they had been when they were on paper.

“I love you more.”

#two imagines in two days???? a bitch CREATIVE #hope you all like the angst #i did my best #now i want it to storm haha #lynds writes #ethan imagine #ethan imagines #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagines #dolan twins #dolan twins imagines

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Ducktales Review: The First Adventure! or Baby Donald Says Eat the Rich

Welcome back. I’d been looking forward to this one for some time in the hopes of getting one thing i’ve been waiting for.. sadly that thing didn’t come, we’ll get to that, but this was still a fun episode so let’s hop right in. Spoilers in a second but my tag is spoiler tagged soooo. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We open in the 1960′s. Austin Powers just went into Cryo Freeze to prepare for Dr. Evil’s eventual return, The Marvel Universe was in full swing, a teenager in baltimore was battling racisim via a dance show, and Black Heron had just been caught by Agent 22, aka Beakly when she was young and just as gorgeous then as she is now. Heron once again engaged in her usual cartoonish supervillian, and now SHUSH has her. Meanwhile in a nearbye room a young accountant by the name of Bradford Buzzard is outlining his plan for Director Von Drake: The way he sees it every time a villian costs chaos Shush “Wastes” billions causing MORE chaos to stop it without controlling things. He proposes taking over the world, weeding out the chaos and ruling from the shadows. Naturally, Ludvig isn’t on board with any of this and points out they aren’t super villains. It’s here this episode fully defines something about Bradford’s character. Back in “Let’s Get Dangerous!” when Huey called him a villain, he said he’s not one... at least from his point of view. It’s here, in his youth we get a clear understanding why he dosen’t think so: So far most people we’ve seen in the world of Ducktales take the chaos and insanity of the world in stride: Either just numb to it like most of the citizens, Rolling with it like Daisy and Violet, or diving straight into it like.. pretty much the majority of the cast, either for the love of adventure and treasure like the McDuck/Duck family, or for their own ludcrious ends like Glomgold, Mark Beaks or Magica. To them the world’s fine the way it is and there’s to explore, take or whatever. To Bradford.. this is madness... he feels all these people are just a bunch of overgrown children, and in some cases actual children, are just making the world worse and worse until one day their going to break it. One day skill, intuition, wit, and knowledge just wont’ be enough. Someday Scrooge, SHUSH or whoever’s standing in the way of evil will fail and the world will fall. This simply can’t go on, and SOMEONE has to control this, someone has to take this world, shake the chaos out of it and MAKE it sane. Make it work the way it’s SUPPOSED to. And to Bradford that’s him. Someone has to, no one else will, so he will. To him SHUSH doing this is just the logical thing: They want peace right? Their fighting for good right? Then what’s better than making the world a utopia? Ending these conflicts and remaking it. The thing is.. that’s not what Heroes do. As we’ve seen in various stories where the superheroes, the Good Guys take over they do improve things.. but at the cost of free will. At the cost of free thought. At the cost of their morals. They become what they were fighting all those years and have to bloody their hands and keep them bloody just to make THEIR world right. And that’s not Utopia, that’s a dictatorship. The example I always come to, even though there were ones before and after this including Marvel’s incredible Squadron Supreme maxi-series, is Justice League the animated series’ two parter, like most of their episodes really but that’s not the point, a Better World, about an alternate reality where Superman kills Lex Luthor after Luthor kills the flash and hte League take over the world. The thing is.. the world isn’t BETTER. It’s just crime free. You can sweep the chaos and the crime under the rug.. but your not making a better world, your just making YOUR version of it. No one person is a god even if they have a power of one and no one person can or SHOULD be able to decide what’s best for everyone. It’s up to each of us to MAKE the world better, to fight for a better world. That’s what Ludvig knows full well and what Bradford just can’t see. You can’t control the world, you just have to accept the things you can’t change like it being chaotic and change the things you can like injustice.

Bradford however, who was hired as a favor to his grandmother, can’t though Von Drake lets him off with a warning.. and a laugh about an accountant being able to be a super villian. Bradford however realizes ther’es some truth to that.. he needs someone to teach him out to operate outside the law, and if SHUSH won’t take the world and remake it.. maybe it’s time someone else did. So in the prison cells of SHUSH, which are conveniently empty outsdide of Heron, Bradford outlines his plan to her. To create a massive orgnization to steal the world and give it the order it needs. To combine their skills: Heron’s for grandeur and crime, and Bradfords for strategy and focus, to take the world. The Orginzation for World Larceny, or OWL, fitting bradford’s hatred for theatrics. Heron objects, adding an F for fiendish, and Bradford relucntantly agrees to get her on board, lets her loose and fakes like he just saw her escape. FOWL is born. And the world would never be the same. Cue credits and cue the rest of the review under the cut.

After the opening we cut to 1994-5.. sometime around then as it’s hard to get an exact year, and that’s how the crew likes it. Point is it’s the 90′s, and Scrooge is.. busy running his company. We’ll get into the weeds of that in a bit, but this is a different Scrooge, one who while no less capable, has no thirst for adventure or drive. He’s not nearly as miserable as the Scrooge we saw back in Woo-Ooo but he’s still a much less complete man. Anyways alongside him for his planning is Duckworth, whose very much alive at this time, and who tells his boss his sister Hortense left something in his office for him. To no one suprise, that thing is the twins, at the tender age of i’m guessing 10. Since your probably curious, Della is still voiced by Paget Brewster, just using a slightly different voice like the Triplets and Webby’s voice actors do. It’s just a bit more jarring here since unlike those characters, we’ve seen adult della and thus are used to this voice coming out of a grown woman. It’s not bad and I got used to it eventually but it was jarring at first especially since once again Donald has a completely diffrent voice ACTRESS doing his voice. This time around it’s cristina valenzuela, of Miraculous Ladybug fame, who I know more for her song work and twitter than her actual work ,but am delighted to see her here and she does a terrific job. I genuneily did not realize it was her, and while not exactly like the late great russi taylor, it is just similar enough to work.

So we get to see what the Twins were like when they were the Triplets age: Della is about the same, but with more of Dewey’s impulsiveness, and Donald, much like he’d be a few years and some dead parents later, is a bitter, grungey musician whose constantly on his guitar and railing against the man.. which is Scrooge in this case which is fair. Hortense left a note.. which bothered me as I genuinely expected her to show up and was majorly disappointed she did not. We are in year 4 of this series, season 3 and STILL no appearance of Hortense or mention how she died, as she and Quackmore are still alive by the end of this. Given she’s easily my faviorite part of Life and Times, this bothered me, and the only reason i’m not more upset.. is the clever way they wrote around actually using her. The letter she leaves for Scrooge explaining things is the same one Della herself used in the comic strip, and using a bit of the postcard she left in the cartoons, when leaving Huey, Dewey and Louie with Donald, down to the Twins having left a firecracker in their fathers seat, thus leaving him in the hosptial. As disappointed as I am my favorite Ginger is completely absent once again, this is a brilliant reference, and I have to give them credit for it, so it’s a fair enough trade off. As for his “Angel Nephew and Niece”, Della wants to dive into adventure while Donald struggles to write a song, singing throughout the episode. It varies in tolerablity, though mostly due to the writing, Cristina is doing fine. Della however is disappointed to find her legendary uncle views his past exploits as merley a means to an end to get his fortune and now he has it he can just focus on building it in the boardroom. This is an intresting take.. and one I could easily have seen happening to the Don Rosa version seen in Life and Times. The Scrooge there himself saw building his wealth as the most important thing until his encounter with Teddy Rosevelt, who taught him experince was what mattered and the having isn’t as fun as the getting. It works for me: This is a scrooge who never got that lesson so once he got to be richest duck in the world, having achieved his life’s goal nothing was left. He’s not miserable like the Scrooge we saw at the start of the series, having lost his love for adventure after loosing his niece/daughter, and having lost his fight. This one has retired.. but because he likely just sees no point in going on. He’s the richest duck in the world, has a vast empire.. no amount of treasure is really going to add to that like it used to, and as he points out in a second Shush has tons of agents at this point to clean up what’s left of FOWL. He’s the man who has everything, so why keep going. It’s weird to see a scrooge without the hunger to keep going, but it makes sense when his belly is full. Without someone to get him to see there’s always another rainbow, he just stopped chasing them. Also a fun nod to the comics I almost forgot to mention is when hearing about the “Gift”, i.e. the twins, Scrooge dreads it’s another surprise party, a nod to life and times where Hortense threw Scrooge one that went.. badly and lead to their entire relationship collapsing. Though Donald did get back at Scrooge for screaming at his parents and Auntie Matilda

However his busy day is disrupted with a call from Beakly. They’ve found the last known cordinates of Captain Yellowbeak, but FOWL is on them and Scrooge is the only one Beakly trusts for this since they have a leak. Beakly is also director of SHUSH at this point, with Von Drake having retired or died or both at this point. Scrooge reluctantly accepts, while Della is excited at the prospect of a real adventure and Donald ends up sharing her enthusasim as it’d make a good song. Scrooge, naturally, has no intention of bringing them with him to their disapointment and leads Donald to sing another “Suck it the man song” which totally isn’t about Scrooge.... spoilers: It entirely is, he’s just a little dumbass grunge baby and I love him. We then get a cute sequence of Della popping up in Scrooge’s Luggage and Trunk to try and convince him to let them tag along, before we cut to the Limo, driven by Duckworth at this point, which solves that mystery. Scrooge is firm in having his butler take them back and have them work with him and Duckworth’s fine with that.. but wants overtime, which is fair. Scrooge, being Scrooge, grumbles about not being made of money, proven wrong by gold spilling out of him. Though I do like the update of Scrooge’s classic cheapness when it comes to pay: INstead of barely paying his employees like a monster, he’s simply reluctant to pay extra if he dosen’t have to, and would rather drag two 10 year olds with him on a dangerous adventure than pay overtime, which tracks. It’s also clear if he had to he WOULD actually pay it, either due to legal reasons or his moral standards, he just isn’t happy about it. So he agrees, though he wants Donald to leave the guitar behind which.. given the most Donald’s been able to come up with is “Suck it THE MAN” and “This guy’s a greedy asshole”.. he’s extremely correct and when Donald tries to pull a “YOU CAN’T CENSOR ME MANNNN”, Scrooge just chucks it out of the car. At the airfield while Della is excited like an rabid chipmunk, and genuinely thinks she can fly a plane because she’s played Outrunner 2.. which I have only vaguely heard of before now. And is apparently just a pc game where you run a lot so I genuinely do not get where Della gets piloting from that.. but she IS Dewey’s mother. So with that in mind the family take off and Scrooge explains what their after: The Papyrus of Binding. It’s a dangerously powerful magical artifact from Ancient Egypt that will make whatever’s written on it happen. The dangerous part is that it’s incredibly literal: As Bradford puts later in the episode, ask for unlimited power, it might zap you dead with a million volts, ask for infinite wealth, prepare to be crushed underneath it. It’s a nice twist on a Monkey’s Paw or Jackass Genie situation. Instead of either the source of the wish granting magic just being inherently evil, or some dickhead screwing with the hero.. it’s just an object that has no ability to interpret nuance, just like your phone with the goddamn autocorrect. It can’t judge intent or tone or meaning, it just gives exactly what it’s asked. It’s a thoroughly interesting concept.

Something I really like about this episode is the fact it answers some little questions. While none were Hortense related, and I am still grumpy about that even with this coming out a good 17 hours after I watched it due to getting caught up with other stuff, it does have little touches that explain small parts of the lore: Who drove Scrooge? As just mentioned, Duckworth. Who flew scrooge? Paid pilots. Did he have a plane before the sunchaser? Yup. It fills in some small gaps in the world. Stuff we weren’t dying to know but’s stil lintresting. Said pilots in this case however are Heron and Bradford. This episode also fills in Heron’s character, as while we’ve already seen bits and pieces this season she LOVES being a classic, take over the world james bond type villian, like she stepped out of a duck version of kim possible.. and i’m just now realizing there probably IS a duck kim possible somewhere in this world as while far after disney afternoon, it fits too neatly to not be wedged in there with your tailspins and goof troops. I wouldn’t be suprised if there were brid versions of every human based disney afternoon and one saturday morning show. My.. my head’s swimming from this. I could be, and probably am wrong but the sheer idea of this... it’s amazing. Back to Heron, she just LOVES being evil and destructive, letting the world know she exists and operating on a grand scale. Now we’ve seen more of her while she’s Beakly’s nemisis.. she’s really an evil scrooge.. yes another one. Like Scrooge, at least how he normally is, she simply gets how the world of Ducktales operates and can take advantage of that to the best of her ablility. Just like adventuering, cartoonish supervilliany is about risk and reward.. sometimes you faceplamnt hard, that’s the risk, but the rewards and rush is worth it. She’s as addicted to grandoise villiany as Scrooge is to adventure by this point. And like Scrooge, and unlike her partner Bradford, she sees the world as it is: Chaotic and one big sandbox to play in. She contrasts Scrooge by the fact that while Scrooge is willing to bust down doors, he still has morals, as well as the wisdom to not go overboard Heron often lacks. It also makes her a good contrast ot the equally skilled Beakly: While Beakly is taciturn, controlled in all things especially her emotions, Heron is bombastic, gloating and borderline insane, and while deadly in a fight, dosen’t exercise any control in her plans, preferring it big and loud despite her partner usually being right about reiging it in. So Heron evacuates dramatically, taking a grumpy Bradford with them, and sending the plane into a tailspin.

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I can’t wait for Next Year’s Tailspin episode. I swear to god. I’m hoping for Shere Kahn but this episode has taught me to be okay with disapointment, if a grumpus. Della however shows her natural talent and despite having no real experince with planes, lands it gracefully. While that’s going on, Bradford berates Heron for her plan, pointing out that they COULD have simply landed the plane, then captured the McDuck family and executed them quitely, versus leaving a chance they’ll survive which they do. They AREN’T supervillains.. or at least he thinks he isn’t. Heron does show off her competence though, pointing out that this way they can simply stay low, and FOLLOW the Ducks to the treasure. Bradford is impressed for a second.. till Heron’s evil shows as she plans to use the Papyrus. Bradford loudly objects to this, listing the possible risks shown before. If not used CAREFULLY, it could kill them, and she balks and wants him to just embrace being the Villian already. It’s what I love about their dynamic set up here: While they are equals, Bradford is a better strategist, able to think and plan way in advance, and prefers subterfuge, and if present day is any indicatoin probably used Heron’s flash to distract from the real mission or goal often or to do something on the down low while she kept SHUSH busy. His last two plans, while again requiring some pizzaz, relied on misdrection: having the ducks take care of an immidate threat like their used to.. while he gets exactly what he wants while their busy and whatever they get out of it is either nothing (Impossibin) or something he couldn’t use just yet and thus if he didn’t get it, no loss, but if he did it just moves up the timetable. Not only that but he’s outlasted all three other big bads, lying in the shadows till it was too risky to leave scrooge and play and even THEN, only coming out into the open when forced out. IT’s why he’s Scrooge’s most dangerous opponent: He knows how Scrooge’s other enmities operates as well as Scrooge himself. And since he knows everything he can maneuver Scrooge exactly where he needs him to do exactly what he wants. It’s unknown how the family will beat him, but he’s easily the biggest challenge they’ve had.

But back to the show and the past, Scrooge bonds with his niece and nephew, retelling stories of his past as they get closer, with Donald ending up high at one point and thus seeing the ship stranded on a mountain. As he recounts a fight with El Capitan, the villian from the ducktales 87 pilot, he counts the story as as a loss: He didn’t get anything from it, no treasure no new contracts. But Della shows him the point he’s been missing; He got a story. Sure he lost.. but he got experince, a tale to tell and a legend grown.Just because you don’t get everything dosen’t mean it wasn’t worth the experince and you can’t hold it in your heart. And this episode shows why this scrooge needed his family: Without Teddy to mentor him, he simply never got that adventure wasn’t about gains or what you get.. it’s about the thrill of it, the enjoyment of discovery and the memories you make.. it’s about the Journey not the destination.

As Scrooge starts to warm up to that, he finds a gap, with Della volunteering Donald to jump but Scrooge just having the kids hop on his back and pogo caneing across. The family find the Papyrus, and find out why the ship is all the way up here: Captain Yellowbeak, who’s a character from one of barks stories and the one who had the scroll last, wished to escape.. but that just stranded them. He asked for water.. and it drowned his crew.. and finally with the document hteir reading he asked for release... and thus is now a skelington. The kid are happy to have reached the goal.. while Scrooge is back on his Zack Morris phone trying to reschedule things and schedule a SHUSH evac, to the kids annoyance. However Scrooge raining on their parade gets interupted by Heron and Bradford, as Heron can’t resist popping out dramatically and Bradford is UTTERLY furious since she blew his cover, and Scrooge recognizes him from his christmas party, a nice callback. Scroog being scrooge figures out he’s the mole and Bradford runs , furious at Heron. Their conflict is an intresting one: Both have a point but both will not back down. Bradford is right this showboating nonsense has only hindered Heron’s plans.. and Heron is right that Bradford needs to accept he’s the bad guy. Even if he has well meaning motives, he’s the villian, he works with them, he leads them.. he is one. He just can’t accept he’s wrong or dosen’t have the answers... huh.. I wonder who that reminds you of. And that’s 100% intentional as Frank has outright compared Huey and Bradford and like last season it’s neat to have the main vilian contrast our chosen Duck for the season.

Heron outfoxes the kids and gets the papyrus and being just an enitrely black hearted bitch, plans to kill them just to spite scrooge.. writing that “his sidekicks will perish on this mission.”.... but Scrooge’s character development, and her choice of words, means nothing happens. As Scrooge outlines, “Their not my sidekicks their my FAMILY, and this isn’t a mission, it’s an ADVENTURE”. Scrooge has finally accepted his life for what it really is.. and the thrill of the chase over what lies at the end. There’s always anothe rainbow.. and he’s finally become the man who will chase every last one.

OF course this is interupted, and Heron escapes with the papyrus, when a skeletal pirate attacks.. why is Yellow Beak alive, why’d the scroll do this?

But we get a neat fight as Scrooge fights the skeleton while he sends the kids after Heron. Scrooge gets a cool looking swordfight, while Bradford gets the papyrus, and Yellowbeak even terrifies me what with his bestial roll and fucking centepede crawling out of him.. jesus those things freak me out. Meanwhile the kids battle Heron, who throws della overboard... and thus for the first time, Donald taps into his beserker rage, snikty snoink, and easily incapaciates the more experinced and fully grown adul, though Della since we’eve been following her kids for the past three seasons, is fine, if suprised by her brother being the goddamn wolverine.

While heron is out for a second, Scrooge heads after Bradford, and vows to tell Beakly and chase him all across the world. However Bradford gets an utterly awesome moment.. he admits scrooge may be right and probably would.. but since he has the papayrus and is careful in everything he writes his request carefully and perfectly “As far as the ducks are concerned, I was never here.” Grante dit COULD have left scrooge out.. but since he didn’t sday duck family or specificy, and likely knew it’d do that, it instead just means the three bilogical ducks. Bradford dissappears, turning invisble and leaving the papyrus for scrooge, who foils heron by simply writing that this scroll will be lost until one day found by his heirs.

So Heron takes a fall and looses an arm, again.. or for the first time.. the family is triumphant and despite loosing his goal, Scrooge is convinced he and the kids will find it again. See above. Scrooge then pulls out his phone and tells Duckworth to rework his schedule.. but it’s so he can find someone to run his comapny so he can spend more time with the kids. As for why Hortense would allow this before her still mysterious passing.. i’m guessing A) she notices her brother is happier and more alive than he’s been for a while and B) they just blew up their dad’s ass with a firecracker, and she won’t be able to use it for a while, so she’s double mad, so if it means she gets a moment’s peace and is with someone she trusts.. why not?

So we end on Scrooge packing up, preparing for further adventures.. i’d love a spinoff of this one day. I mean Disney plus needs it, and since Frank is probably going over to Darkwing.. maybe matt could take a crack at this. Just saying. You have the cast ready, a giant world to explore, and 15 years worth adventures. Run that baby damn you! But yeah the inevitble happens and Bradford further proves his magificent bastardry.. by appling for the position of running the company as head of Scrooge’s board, and setting up said board. So now FOWL has unlimited resources, he has a direct eye on what he now realizes is his greatest threat, and the complete trust and faith of both Scrooge and Beakly. It also puts Beakly’s breakdown in context: We now see WHY she went as far as she did: While the revelation was bad for Scrooge, finding out one of his most trusted allies was a traitor the whole time and knew everything about him, for Beakly.. it had to be worse. Finding out one of your best employees, one of the FEW people you ever trusted, and someone you DIRECTLY RECOMMENDED TO SCROOGE, was not only the man who set up your greatest enemies, but had compromised your organization for most of your career. IT’s no wonder she broke down so hard.. while I already gave several reason adding “This level of betrayal and self doubt to the list” only makes it that much harder on her. But for now a partnership is started.. one that very well may end scrooge.

Final Thoughts: A pretty good episode overall. It’s well paced, to the point I probably forgot a LOT, has some good jokes, and fills in a lot of the gaps in the lore, while giving us a nice insight into bradford and heron. Even without hortense this was a pretty good episode.

Upcoming Reviews: LIfe and Times; Master of the Mississippi Ride of the Three Cabbleros: The Three Cablleros (House of Mouse) Tomtrospective: Lava Lake Beach

#ducktales #ducktales spoilers #scrooge mcduck #bradford buzzard #della duck #donald duck #black heron #bentina beakley #the first adventure!#the first adventure #cristina vee

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little-red-toyota · 3 years

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Final good bye to the fandom

TW//Trauma, triggers, nsfw, sexual themes, rape, domestic abuse e.g.

This is gonna be a long ass post…

It has taken me a while to get emotionally strong enough to do this, as I will have to think back at some traumatic events from my past to address some of these things. That's why I waited until I got home from vacation with my family, as it will seriously affect my mood and mental health, and I want to be near my doctor and therapist, just in case.

And also, I know that the majority of those reading this will invalidate me and tell me I am making things up to clear my name. So, I literally have to torment myself to write a blog post people will just brush off as bogus anyway. But I will do it now that I am in safe surroundings. Then it will be off my chest, and I can finally move on. If people will continue stirring up the past, it will be their problem, not mine.

I think I should write one last blog post where I address everything. I have left the TTTE-fandom, but I will write that one as my final goodbye to the fandom. I just have to find out everything I've been accused of so I can properly address them all in order. I might leave out details of my life that is too hard for me to open up about. I know most of you will just invalidate me anyway.

1. The Stepney fic and glorifying rape.

2. My mafia-AU.

3. The Darin incident.

4. Being a pedophile. (Where do they get this from anyway??)

5. Running the NSFW-blog.

6. Drawing penises/boobs on trains. Drawing age-regression art.

Is there more?

Ah... yes! Faking my own suicide, of course!

7. "Faking" being suicidal.

8. Having the audacity to survive and go on living.

9. "Making up" my past trauma to justify writing fics to cope with it.

10. Being a nazi for being interested in WW2 history and for being Norwegian and having so-called nazi-letters in my last name (actual letters of the Norwegian alphabet).

11. Putting a white-supremacist flag (the actual flag of Norway) on my porch on family birthdays and our national day.

12. Being a danger to my daughter.

Anything else that needs to be addressed? What else am I being accused of? Send me a dm and I will add it to the post.

Okay, I will bump the Stepney fic down a bit as it is the most traumatic thing for me to address, I will save that one for last.

2 and 3. The dark au/mafia au where I gave some TTTE characters some rather dark and unpleasant character traits, and the whole incident with Darin and the pedo-Salty was addressed in this blog post written by my husband last year, so I am not opening that can of worms again: https://little-red-toyota.tumblr.com/post/623743183795470336/in-light-of-recent-events

Even the thing about Toby cheating on Henrietta is addressed there.

As for the au, I never fully explored it as I started losing interest in TTTE around the same time. I found other things to enjoy and TTTE faded into the background and the au was dropped before I even wrote any stories, apart from the one about Toby and Henrietta.

Some people claim, like this lovely individual, that most of the characters were rapists and pedos. No, not most. Only one of each. And I did not write more than one story about rape and suicide. Where does this person even get that from? Someone who told someone who had heard from someone who might have heard….?

Don't spread rumors unless you are sure that they are true.

Anyway, it's all addressed in that blog post in that link. I don't see how this mafia au is any worse than other dark post-apocalyptic or violent aus. It mostly was about the diesel mafia and their illegal businesses, not about sex, even if it did occur now and then. I find the substance abuse in it to be more problematic tbh…

4. Being a pedophile.

I don't even know how to defend myself against this one, as I don't even know why people think I am pedophile. They only throw the accusation out with no backing evidence, so I have no idea where it comes from or what it is that makes people think I am one.

Apart from one claim that I had faved "porn" alongside "strangers'" baby photos on DA. I addressed that earlier though. As DeviantArt doesn't sort what you click "like" on, it all ends up in the same folder unless you actively go through it and sort it into categories, which I don't bother most of the time. It also doesn't say WHEN it was added to your faves. So, I can have faved an artistic nude on Saturday, and then faved my friend's family photo on Thursday. It's not like I actively search for porn, get all steamed up and then look at pictures of children. WTF.

The few children I have faved are not from complete strangers, but long-term friends of mine. Yes, it is possible to have friends on the same website. I have actually met a lot of my RL friends through DeviantArt. I posted photos of my daughter when she was a baby, they would fave it and congratulate me. So, I did the same when they had a baby. As simple as that. Nothing weird or perverted about it. Due to people doxxing me last year however, I deleted the photos of me, my husband and my daughter from DeviantArt, so it's no longer there.

Porn isn't allowed on DeviantArt anyway. The nudes there are so-called artistic nudes, and for the most part I use them as pose-references when I draw as it is easier to draw a pose using a nude base and then dress them up once you got the pose right.

"The very naked" centaurs I have faved. Well, I like the mythological creature Centaur. And as far as I know… they do not wear clothes, so how are they NOT nude? Look it up, it's a horse body with a human torso instead of horse head. I don't see them as sexual, but what do I know? Maybe YOU do?

I have no sexual interest in children whatsoever.

5. Running the NSFW-blog on Tumblr and Twitter.

Yes. I was one of six people modding that blog. ONE of six, so I refuse to take the full blame here.

MerciResolution has openly admitted to being the founder, and she recruited me and some others to modify as the confession load became too heavy for one person to handle alone.

The original blog on Tumblr worked as follows: People would anonymously send a confession to our askbox, we would add a picture (sometimes photoshopped) to the text and post it on the blog. Always tagged as NSFW and with proper trigger warnings if necessary! The blog itself was also marked as explicit, so it didn't appear in searches and such.

For us, this blog was nothing but a joke. We did it for shits and giggles. If anyone took it seriously and thought we got off to the stuff that was posted, we apologize for that, but to us it was just for laughs. And we DID laugh a lot, you guys should have seen the weird shit people sent us sometimes!

We had fun and we never thought anyone would take it seriously, so we never thought of writing "joke" in the description or anything. It never occurred to us that it could be anything but a joke.

We also made a Twitter account for it, also locked for minors. But it was quickly hacked, and someone changed the password so we could no longer access it. We made another account and forgot about the old one…

After a while, the original mods started losing interest and the blog (both on Tumblr and Twitter) became less active. That's when a person I had known for years, and wrongfully trusted, came forward and wanted to take over ownership. So, the ownership was handed over to Russalita/Charlie.

That turned out to be huge mistake!

Me and the other mods had more or less forgotten that the blogs existed, when suddenly someone started bashing me and getting up in my arms over it. I got seriously confused as I hadn't been active on it in almost a year. But as it turned out, Russalita had removed the mature filters and made the accounts open for all the see. Even minors.

And as people knew I was one of the mods, they fired their guns at me. I can see why though, so I'm not pointing any fingers here.

I tried contacting her by phone, asking her to lock the accounts again, but she gave me a less than polite response, hung up and then blocked my number…

So, I decided to try to shut the blogs down on my own, trying the old passwords. It worked on the Tumblr-account, and I managed to password protect it, for some reason it couldn't be fully deleted. But the Twitter account had gotten its password changed by Russalita. I was however able to get a new password by logging into the e-mail we had used to create it. I deleted the Twitter blog fully. It can't be re-activated even if we wanted to. It's gone.

But it turns out the old, hacked one is still up and now open for everyone. And this one poses a huge problem as we have no way of getting into it to delete it. Only thing we have been able to do so far is reporting it and hope it will be removed by Twitter. So I only have one thing to say about it: report it.

I am no longer running any NSFW TTTE blog anywhere, nor do I have interest in doing so. So, if you come across one, claiming to be me or any of the other mods, it is false.

6. Drawing penises/boobs on trains. Drawing age-regression art.

People seem to believe I have drawn genitals on trains. I have never done such. Any art on the NSFW-blog with genitalia on the trains were sent in by confessors and was not drawn by me. Most of them seems to have been drawn by someone who goes by the name "The Lance".

I HAVE drawn things for the NSFW blog, but there were no genitalia in those drawings. I drew Frank of Arlesdale looking grossed out by (I don't know what the part is named in English, but it is connected to the brakes of the engine) that stick-like thing on his bufferbeam being wet from whatever the confessor did to him. I drew an over-exaggerated comical pic of a horrified Peter Sam getting his face licked by his driver, who had an enormous tongue. I also did a couple of manips. Mostly maniping engine faces on humans, like the one where Gordon's face is on a less than fit guy flailing his shirt around, and the Arlesdale smallies' faces on a movie poster from Magic Mike. One with Mr.Conductor in a giant bun while Pinchy is applying ketchup on him, for a confession about eating him, I think? I've done some more, but I forgot what it was, I only know I loved making them comical rather than erotic, as I saw the blog as a joke overall.

I HAVE also drawn aheago faces on engines because it looks hilarious. Though I have only drawn them on my OCs and the NRS engines, not TTTE characters.

Point is I have never drawn genitalia on trains. Ever. And I likely never will. It's not THAT much fun drawing NSFW stuff.

I see from this screenshot that a certain MK-Instrumentalist claim that all my personal art is age-regression art and infantilism…

Whose art have you been looking at? Because it's definitely not mine. I have drawn a couple of baby/chibi diesels… But claiming that all of my 700 or so artworks are depicting infantilism and age-regression stuff? I suggest people go have a look for themselves. I haven't drawn that. That MK-guy has been desperately trying to cancel me for ages for reasons only himself know. I don't even know the guy, and he doesn't know me, yet he wants to see me beheaded. Go figure.

I was for a long time bothered by some age-regressor on Tumblr who just wouldn't leave me alone with their weird asks, who tried to force themselves on me and some other artists here. They claim age-regression isn't a fetish, but the shit they sent to my askbox certainly looked like a fetish to me.

I don't want anything to do with that stuff. It weirds me out.

And no. I have never drawn pedophilia or rape art either. This guy can't even make up his mind on which one to accuse me of.

7 and 8. Faking suicide and having the audacity to survive and go on living.

As many know, after the intense shitstorm against me last summer, thanks to Darin, I attempted suicide. I didn't succeed as my husband came home early. I was gone for a few days but returned when a young boy reached out to me for help as he was being groomed and didn't know who else to turn to.

Recently I saw a screenshot where someone claimed me to have faked suicide, and that I just came back after a few days when everything had died down.

Wow.

I am truly sorry I survived.

I don't remember much from those days to be honest, but as the load became too heavy and the bullying too intense, piling up on 30 years of old trauma… I decided to end it. I must warn you guys who might get triggered now; there are detailed descriptions of a suicide attempt. Proceed with caution. People told me I was a bad mother among other things, having had those same thoughts myself (according to my husband, I am a good mom) and people just confirming them, I thought that my daughter would be better off growing up without me. I could have chosen a more effective suicide method, but I was afraid my daughter would be the first to find me, so I wanted it to be clean and look like I was just sleeping. That way it could be explained as natural causes.

So, I decided to overdose on pills. I downed all pills I could find in the house that had a warning triangle on it (strong pain meds etc.) and then went to my computer to delete my online existence, especially the personal data.

As a former paramedic, I should have known better. Because after half an hour, my body started reacting. But not the way I had hoped and wanted. I started retching and almost vomiting. That's when my husband came home from work and found me. He immediately saw the empty packages and knowing my past suicidal tendencies, he reacted instinctively. He put his fingers down my throat and had me puke everything up, then he called an ambulance and had me admitted to the hospital.

I don't remember anything from the days I spent there. But I have been told they emptied my stomach and gave me lots of fluids. I was then assigned a psychiatrist which I am still seeing today.

I was gone for those days because I was in hospital, not because I was pulling some kind of trick and pretending to have ended myself.

So… I am sorry I "faked" my suicide.

I'm sorry my husband saved me. I am sorry the medics and doctors succeeded in saving my life.

I am sorry I survived and proceeded to live on. If I ever make another attempt, I promise to do better.

Why are you guys so persistent in trying to push people to suicide anyway? Do you get a kick out of it? Why do people have to be pushed to that point before you care?

What did we tell our daughter? Simply that I got sick and had to go to the hospital. She took that well.

I've seen a lot of people wonder why I am still around. Why shouldn't I? Does my daughter deserve to lose her mother over some online crap she doesn't even know about? I owe her to live and watch her grow up, to help her with her homework and whatever else a parent needs to do. I also owe my husband to stay by his side, like I promised him the day we got married. Even if I do not wish to live.

I'm sorry I survived, guys. Really, I am.

9. "Making up" my past trauma to justify writing fics to cope with it. And 1. The Stepney fic and glorifying rape.

First… why would anyone make up trauma? It's not like it's a competition to have the worst life, is it?

Sadly, I don't have to make up anything. My life HAS been rocky up until the birth of my daughter. I have been through so much trauma I couldn't even fathom it myself before my therapist listed it all up to me. Until then, I had just been casually talking to her about it, like I would talk about the weather. I didn't cry or get in touch with my emotions even once while telling everything, because I was taught from an early age to never complain, to suck it up and go on. So, no matter what people did to me, I would just smile and go on, even if it killed me inside. I did not want to show any sign of weakness, because then they would attack me. A habit I developed through years of being bullied in school. Never show feelings, just pretend nothing could hurt you, then they would eventually grow tired of it and stop.

Except they never did. They kept going through all my years at school. To such an extent, my boyfriend didn't dare to show himself hanging out with me out of fear of being bullied himself… And as we grew older, he would start cheating on me too. And I kept smiling…

My next boyfriend was a bit older than me, and while that didn't bother me, as we were both well over legal age, it bothered him. We only lasted one year before he bailed out and ditched me out of the blue via an sms.

The next guy… was the one who scarred me for life. Both physically and mentally. A charmer at first of course, until I was trapped. He was unemployed, so he moved in with me, and I paid for everything from food to phone bills. All while he was dating several women behind my back, calling various pay-phone services and in general acted like a manwhore. As I worked as an electrician (also being subject to massive bullying and sexual harassment at work), he would be jealous of all my co-workers and if I ever came home late or worked overtime, he accused me of cheating and was extremely violent about it. He would also isolate me from my friends and family, making me think I couldn't get any other than him. If any of my male friends (almost all my friends are male…) came over, he would give me such hell afterwards, it was easier just to tell them it was a bad time to visit. And after a while, they stopped asking. This guy also demanded sex. Every single day. If I refused, he would punish me, mostly by flogging me with lampcords, belts or whatever else he had at hand. My back is a criss cross map of old, faded scars even now nearly 20 years later. I would have shown you a photo, but I am so self-concious about my body after all the bullying, I hardly even show my face in photos. Maybe one day… but I certainly need more therapy before being able to show naked skin to strangers, even if it's just my back. So I had non-consensual sex with him more often than consensual. It has taken me hours in therapy to even take the word in my mouth and call it by its proper name: rape. I was raped, almost every single day for little over a year, before I found the strength to break out of the relationship and finally throw him out of my house. It all ended when I found some revealing texts on his cellphone, which he was extremely protective of… Texts that revealed that he had engaged in a relationship with a 12 year old girl, and it had been going on for a while. Not only was he cheating on me, but he was a pedophile too. Needless to say, I didn't even let him pack his stuff before I fetched my shotgun and chased him out of the house. I don't know where I got the courage and strength from… but I was furious.

I thought I had gotten rid of him, but no. He started stalking me in public. Hiding behind shelves when I was shopping, his car following mine everywhere I went. I received weird letters in the mail with cut-out letters from newspapers, glued together. On top of all, his creepy, old uncle called me with some rather disgusting suggestions and tried to come on to me really hard. I had to change my phone number, and after coming home to my house and finding out someone had entered my home using a key, only to empty the drawer of my night table, I also had to change the locks of my doors as he had clearly copied the key.

He didn't stop until I got the police involved.

So, when I finally met the guy who would become my husband (or rather, we found out we were made for each other, we had known each other since we were 11 years old), I had major trust issues towards men especially and it took him endless patience and love to break me out of that shell.

But the trauma doesn't stop… or start there.

In the year 2000, on January 4th, I would experience something that made me unable to even look at a train for over 10 years. The Åsta accident (google it). I was a volunteer in the Norwegian Red Cross then, and a paramedic in training. Back then, you were allowed to start training the year you would turn 16. So, I was still 15 when I witnessed the most traumatic event of my life. The day started out calm, we were stocking up the ambulance after delivering a patient to the hospital when we got a call with the code "500", which means "catastrophe". Normally when we get that code it is a rehearsal… so we drove towards the coordinates with the thoughts that this was just an exercise, nothing real… we didn't prepare ourselves mentally… And we ended up in the closest thing to hell I have ever been… The sight of the burning trains, the smells, the sounds, the screaming… I still wake up by nightmares to this day. Though the moment that haunts me the most is when the screaming stopped… because we all knew why… I don't want to go into details, but 19 people died that day. But we also saved 67 people. I try to hold on to that thought. The age limit for starting paramedic training was raised after this, as I wasn't the only one who was too young for an accident of that scale. Today it is 18. A memorial stone has been placed on the site, but I still haven't been able to bring myself to visit it, even if we drive past the site every year on our way to visit family further north in the country. I needed hours of therapy to even be able to ride a train after this. To have gotten to the point where I now volunteer at a heritage railway and is in training to become a driver, is a HUGE step for me. My next goal is to visit the site of the accident.

On to next trauma… A previous employer, a rather large electric company in Norway, whom I worked for 8 years. The first five years were great, we were a close-knit bunch of electricians, and we had a great relationship with the bosses and higher-ups. Our labor union was strong.

It all started changing in 2009 when we got new leaders… and those decided to get rid of everyone who were a member of the union. One by one, they started harassing workers in various ways, trying to get them to quit. In Norway, they need a legal reason to fire you, it's not enough to not like someone. There has to be a good reason to fire someone e.g. theft, neglecting work… Since they didn't have any reasons to fire us, they started making our work lives gradually harder and harder until we would break and find another job. Sadly, one of my co-workers couldn't stand the pressure… He bid us all farewell as normal one Friday and hung himself the following day.. But as I was a girl in a male-dominated profession, I had been taught at an early stage to ignore anything that would hurt me emotionally, just arch my neck and plow through. I kept doing that, despite starting to feel more and more mental and physical pains… even my co-workers pointed out how I was being mistreated before I acknowledged it myself. I tried to tell my boss, but he reacted by treating me worse. So, I went to his boss… and that's when things went to hell. Instead of doing his job and listen, he started harassing me too. He deemed my over-weight a problem, and he started demanding I gave him detailed lists of what I ate and how much I worked out… Completely illegal of course, but by this point I was broken down to the point I thought I was useless and couldn't get another job… so I accepted. He started accusing me of lying about my exercise, so I started training at the gym in the basement at work instead. One day, while I was there, he locked the doors and turned the lights off. There were no windows, no cellphone reception and hardly anyone walking by in that part of the building… I sat there in the pitch dark for 3 hours before I was let back out. I still get badly triggered by narrow, dark rooms and rooms with no windows. To such an extent, I jumped out of a small window on the second floor of a gym when I was in boot camp. I was allowed to train downstairs in the bigger gym with windows on all walls after that incident…

The harassment at work went on for years until I finally snapped, ended up at the hospital and got into therapy for the first time. I don't want to go into depth about what more happened, I just can't… I can't bring myself to write it all. Luckily, I had gotten more education while working, so when I graduated, another company called and gave me an offer I just couldn't refuse. So, I quit my job and never looked back, even if the traumas I suffered there still haunts me to this day.

Sadly, even after switching jobs, now getting a safe job with sane leaders… I started to relax, and that's when all my past trauma came washing over me. And one day, on while driving to work, I had my first serious panic attack. It started as this feeling I used to have at the old company; getting sick to my stomach and having the sense of someone being out to get me… then it developed to breathing problems… and I had to pull the car over. I broke into tears, struggling to breathe, stumbling out of the car to read the logo on its side just to reassure my body and brain that I worked for a different company now and there was no reason for panic. I called my boss and let him know, because he also was a "refugee" from that other company, so he knew what me and several others had gone through. He managed to talk me down enough for me to come to the office to talk to him. That helped.

I got back into therapy. A better therapist this time. But sadly, it got apparent that I could no longer work as an electrician as there was too many triggers. I was diagnosed with PTSD, severe depression, and social anxiety. I'm still working on these and get better slowly.

I have been in therapy for a long time now, and it was my therapist that suggested I wrote fics to cope and "write it out". I tried to make up my own characters for this, but never felt any connection. I was by this time in the TTTE fandom and had met people with similar trauma and pasts like myself, and I started roleplaying with some of them. Me and a girl from UK then agreed to try to rp/co-write a fic to cope with our trauma. We both found it easier to write about pre-established characters we had a connection to, even if it was an au that made it barely recognizable from the original source material. Only the names and some minor things were similar.

That fic was Stepney's Virginity Gets Lost.

Do we regret writing it? No. It helped us write out our traumas and helped us overcome some mental obstacles in out therapy process. Our therapists cheering us on, because we finally managed to break through the hard shell surrounding us. We both cried for the first time in years while writing it, some of it through roleplay, because some parts were extremely graphic and brutal and very mentally exhausting. We had to take long breaks between each writing session, so the fic wasn't written in just a weekend. But we got a lot of darkness out of our minds by writing all this. And we were definitely NOT aroused by it, like this pervert here claims.

It's when you dare to touch and feel the difficult and dark emotions, you can finally move along in the grieving process.

Should it have been posted online?

In retrospect, no. But at the time, we thought it might help other trauma victims, as we also found reading about other people's experiences and fictions touching painful subjects helpful to ourselves. So, we posted it, never expecting it to cause such a controversy 3 years later. In fact, we had more or less forgotten about it until it came back to bit us in the ass. Or rather, bite ME in the ass, as I am getting the full blame alone.

Also, despite what people claim, it was not posted openly for children to read. It was tagged properly and hidden behind mature content walls. If a minor chooses to break that wall, that's not the author's fault. It's the same as watching a movie with an age restriction way above your age, not the filmmaker's fault.

I think MerciResolution puts it nicely here:

"If your problem lies with you KNOWINGLY entering adult spaces when you’re a minor, ignoring all mature warnings that are literally SCREAMING at you “hey, this is what you’re getting into. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

That’s ENTIRELY on you. YOU are the fucking problem.

We’re marking mature things as best as we properly can. If you decide to ignore them, that’s your own damn fault. We’re not your fucking babysitters."

Also, I never posted the story on Wattpad, so if anyone has done that, it's not me. I posted the story on Fanfiction.net, DeviantArt and AO3, that's all. If it's posted anywhere else, it's not done by me.

I had honestly moved on from it when people pulled me back into it.

Other people who have done questionable shit in that fandom are easily forgiven because "they have moved on" or "changed". Yet, nobody believes I can move on or change…?

I had moved on; my interests had changed. But people won't let me, so here I am… Having to defend some crap I did years ago. A fic I no longer have any interest in.

I'm not even interested in TTTE anymore. I have moved on with my own book project now and I would like to focus on that.

So, deleting my TTTE content, whether it was the SFW or NSFW stuff, didn't cost me a penny. It actually felt like a relief. The only downside with it is that people now can't read it and make up their own opinion about it, but will solely believe in what others say, and those things are often seriously bent out of shape and blown out of proportions to such an extent it's barely recognizable.

If people claim that Arry and Bert rape Stepney in the fic, they have never seen it or read it. That's not what happens. That's just an assumption made by looking at the title and knowing there is a rape/torture scene in it. But I'm not gonna tell who the victim is or who performed it, because this is the only way I am able to tell who has actually read the fic or not, who is just trying to spread bullshit and who is actually telling the truth. The person in that screenshot, has no idea what he's talking about.

Does SVGL romanticize rape and abuse?

No, not in the least. It's described as the horrible, heinous acts it is and is in no way meant to be cute or romantic and definitely NOT something anyone should get off to. If anyone finds it sexy, that's their problem, not the authors'. If anything, SVGL might romanticize suicide, because one of the characters isn't able to cope with his trauma and chooses to end their life. Which is something I considered doing myself when I was in the darkest pit of depression. So, I apologize for maybe romanticizing suicide. The following chapters describe how friends and family handle the loss and grief.

It also describes a toxic relationship, where one of the parts struggles to get out of it. They eventually manage to break free, but it is not easy. This can easily be translated to my previously mentioned relationship, as it was my way of writing out my experience about how hard it is to break out of a relation when your partner has broken you down to the point where you no longer believe in yourself and your self-worth.

The last chapters start to gradually become brighter, as both our lives started getting better too. But we never really wrote the end because we both lost interest in writing TTTE content by that time and just left it hanging.

I'm not the only one who has written NSFW TTTE fanfics out there. But it seems like violence and murder is more acceptable than sexual things? I do wonder how brutally mutilating children's show characters are more tolerable than sexually abusing them. Neither should be okay.

Some content creators hide behind "it was a joke". I have been told that such topics that SVGL touches upon shouldn't be joked about… so I didn't do that, and yet it was wrong? So how should such topics be treated? Be hidden like it's a shame, like in the old days when rape victims were told to suck things up and keep it to themselves? When those subject to abuse didn't dare to speak up because people would judge them?

I think it is important to talk about these subjects and why they are so problematic. Victims shouldn't have to hide their trauma; they should be allowed to talk openly about it without fearing judgement.

Some of you claim that writing isn't a good way to cope… You're trying to dictate how trauma victims deal with their trauma, and that's a dangerous path to walk down. Nobody handles trauma the same way. You might have your thoughts on how you would react, but you'll never know until trauma hits you… and you might not react the way you had expected or planned. Trauma messes with your head and you won't be able to think clearly. It makes you do thinks you normally wouldn't have done and can make you act out of character. So, do not judge people without having been in the same situation yourself. Ever.

Someone wrote that I have "more problems that just a rape".

Read that again.

Just a rape.

This person does not know how damaging a rape can be. And if you made it this far in this post, you know I didn't only go through one, but several. Not just by my ex, but also being ambushed while I was walking home from a party, and later; a co-worker forcing himself onto me at a building site. I can't go into depth about them all, I just can't.

Just a rape…

"Just" the feeling of not being in control of your own body and your own decisions. "Just" being robbed off your dignity and self-worth. "Just" having someone intrude into your private zone, tear your clothes off and claim your body against your will. "Just" feeling how your life force leave you as you realize that fighting against it won't help you, and you silently give up and just lay down waiting for it all to be over. "Just" spending hours in the shower, scrubbing your skin until you bleed because you can't wash the filth away and you keep feeling dirty no matter how much you clean yourself. "Just" waking up at night, after having relived the scene again in a nightmare. "Just" looking over your shoulder wherever you walk because you heard something or thought you saw something or simply because someone is walking behind you. "Just" the fact that you'll never feel comfortable walking alone at night again or have someone walk behind you. "Just" never being able to relax because your body constantly think you're in grave danger. "Just" a rape…

That's such a neck-beard thing to say. Someone who clearly think of other people's bodies as property or things. Not taking into consideration that we are living, breathing individuals with feelings. And that having another person violate us isn't something we like or that we'll easily get over. We want to choose who we give ourselves to, nobody should be forced. We didn't ask to be raped. We didn't want it. We didn't like it.

Rape is trauma.

Yes, we should have chosen other characters for the story, but we did what we did, and it cannot be undone now. So, if the only thing I will be remembered for in the fandom is that ONE fic, instead of all my other content, that's what it will be. That's what people chose to. I'm moving on.

10. Being a nazi for being interested in WW2 history and for being Norwegian and having so-called nazi-letters in my last name (actual letters of the Norwegian alphabet).

*sigh*

This is something that could only happen in America, isn't it?

Some people don't bother educating themselves. The "nazi-letters" you guys are talking about is actually part of the Norwegian alphabet and has nothing to do with Nazism or white-supremacy to do at all. The Norwegian alphabet has 29 letters, the three extra is æ,ø,å or in capital letters: Æ,Ø,Å.

We can't help it if some morons over in the US abuse these letters as symbol of their twisted mindset.

Yes, my name contains one of those letters. It is my name… and I didn't choose it. It is a common Norwegian name.

As for me being a Nazi?

Those who knows me knows that I am as far from a Nazi as one can get. I despise Nazism with all my heart.

But the reason some people choose to believe so… was that some guy who has no hobbies or life went through every single fave I've made on DeviantArt since I joined the site in 2006, which is well over 20000 faves. And he found a few Nazi-characters from a web series I was following about ten years ago. I am very interested in history and especially WW2-history, so I found that particular web-series interesting and faved some artwork related to it. What this guy failed to notice is that I also faved the Allied characters… That's ALL there is to that story.

I has also faved a pic someone made of Joseph Goebbels (I think it was?) as a Pixar Car. That's not because I have any nazi-sympathies, but I simply found the concept of turning historical persons, both good and bad, into Cars as an interesting project. I would have faved any other historical Carsified person as well.

As for me being a Norwegian and have a natural pale complexion, that's not something I can help. That's nothing I choose. And it doesn't make me racist or Nazi. Period.

11. Putting a white-supremacist flag (the actual flag of Norway) on my porch on family birthdays and our national day.

Again. Get educated.

This flag… is the actual flag of my country. The Kingdom of Norway.

There is nothing Nazi about it. It is not a symbol of white-supremacy. IT IS THE FLAG OF NORWAY.

During WW2 it was even illegal, so people would paint it everywhere in a protest against the Nazi-occpation and the SS. We even decorated our Christmas trees with it, and that is a tradition that has followed us into the modern day.

Again, if some idiots in the US choose to use it as a symbol for their disgusting logic, it is not Norway or the Norwegians' fault.

12. Being a danger to my daughter.

I need people to elaborate here.

What exactly do you think I do to my daughter? What is the cause of your concern here?

The fact that I have made NSFW content? How is that harmful to her as long as I keep it away from her? You DO realize that even authors, pornstars and moviemakers have children and that they can be good parents, right?

Do you think I read pornographic content for her as bedtime stories? Or show her porn instead of kids TV? How sick are you guys, really…?

Some people even wanted CPS to take my child away from me… Have a look at these screenshots…

You want a happy, healthy, innocent child to be taken away from a stable, safe home with loving parents just because you don't like the content the mother made? You want her to be placed in foster care, where there is no guarantee that she will have a happy upbringing rather than have her stay with her parents who love her and care for her, for reasons she'll never understand and wasn't even aware of?

"Think of the children!" a lot of you say when it comes to my content. May I ask why this doesn't apply to my daughter?

Why do some of you go as far as to wishing her dead or wanting her to be removed from the home she feels safe and loved in? How is that thinking of the children?

As for the douchebag in that screenshot. You claim that if your mother did something like that you would want nothing to do with her… I have a question: Do you know EVERYTHING your mother do? Does she include you in each aspect of her life? Even her sexual life? No?

How do you know she doesn't do thing you don't approve of when you're not around? She could be a rabid pornmag reader for all you know. But stuff like that is something adults hide from their kids. So, you wouldn't know, unless you go snooping around in her business.

Everyone is entitled to privacy. What I and my husband do when our kid is not around is our business, not hers, and certainly not yours.

Porn and parenting are to be kept separate from each other. Period.

And we do.

There is absolutely no reason to be worried about my daughter. She is a happy, healthy child in a safe, stable home with family that loves her and cares for her. Not just me and my husband, but also grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

If you want to remove her from that over a stupid fanfic behind a mature content wall, you're the deranged person, not me.

This is all I have to say about all this and my time in the TTTE fandom. I have left by my own, free will. Yes, I am aware that many people don't want me there. That's fine. I don't want to be there.

I am a bit disappointed in those people who just blindly unfollowed me and unfriended me without any questions asked, just followed the leader. Big users tend to dictate who and what is worth following in that fandom. They will even protect real predators, but I'm not going to open that can of worms now. I'm done with the fandom.

Some of those people, I have been talking to regularly, even supported when they faced hardships in the fandom themselves. But when I got in trouble, they ditched me without a word…

If anything, this whole ordeal showed me who to trust and not, and who were true to their word when it came to how deep our friendship was. True friends at least give you the chance to explain before they drop you. I hold no ill feelings to those who did, at least they asked me before judging.

And those who still stayed with me, are the ones who truly know me and who I really am.

Some of the worst libels posted about me might be reported to the police, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I am not mentally strong at the moment, so I don't know if I have the strength to legally follow it all up. I will ask the cops at work for advice on the matter.

All I ask for now is some peace.

You don't have to like me. You don't have to follow me. You don't have to like my content. Feel free to invalidate me, I know a lot of you will.

But please, stop bullying me and my family.

Please stop sending me horrid messages and death threats.

Please stop doxxing me and calling me.

Please leave my family alone. If you don't care about me, at least care about them.

Please just ignore me. I have already left the fandom, there is no reason to keep hunting me.

I just want to move on and go on with my life and the content I am currently working on. After years in therapy, my life has gotten better, and I want to move on.

Please let me.

#good bye to ttte #tw//suicide #tw//rape #tw// bullying #tw//depression #tw//ptsd #tw//ttte #tw//sex #tw//abuse #tw//domestic abuse #I'm done

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pauleonotis · 4 years

Text

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you want to get to know better.

I was tagged by @rosabella1315, thank you!! <3

1. Nicknames?

Pau (and various others as Paul, Lina, Paula, Pauli... idc you choose lmao but I like to introduce myself as Pau)

2. Name?

Paulina

3. Zodiac

Virgo

4. Favorite musician or groups?

Bastille, Coldplay, Owl City, Fall Out Boy, Nickelback, Evanescence, Simple Plan, Santiano, etc... idk, I listen to a lot of music actually so there’s no particular group or musician that I‘d prefer so these are some examples of groups- or bands (...I feel so stupid to ask but is there a difference between bands and groups?)

5. Favorite sports teams?

I’m not a big fan of sports I have to admit, so I don’t know any teams lmao.

6. Other blogs?

I don’t have any other blogs but I am on other sites so ima just link my Instagram, Twitter (there’s nsfw art tho!), and Ao3.

7. Do you get asks?

Yes I do sometimes. I want to thank everyone who takes their time to leave an ask, I really appreciate it! (As long as it isn’t anon hate lmao but in case anyone who does that sees this right now, I delete these kind of asks so you‘re basically wasting your time by leaving negative comments but thanks for your time anyway I guess.)

8. How many blogs do you follow?

About 550 or so.

9. Tumblr crushes?

I don’t have crushes as in... really crushing on them— but uh... I do have crushes as in... I absolutely adore their blogs/posts/art/writing and the person behind it seems really nice and I love them (AS A FRIEND OR FELLOW MUTUAL OR FOLLOWER-) and admire their work and would try to be there for them always. Am I making sense? I hope I do.

10. Lucky numbers?

4885. Lmao no, I actually don’t have one. This number is just the current word count of the first chapter of a fic I‘m currently working on (still need to finish that chapter and then I‘ll have to look for a beta reader but I‘m kinda scared to ask for one on discord LMFAO)

11. What are you wearing right now?

My pyjamas.

12. Dream vacation?

I wanna go to London someday with my best friend. Aaaand I really want to travel to Pompeji someday.

13. Dream car?

Nothing really, just gimme something comfortable and with enough space for more than 2 people and enough room for maybe 2-3 suitcases or big bags in the trunk and I‘ll love it.

14. Favorite food?

Atm apples probably. Apples and bananas.

15. Drink of choice?

Water.

16. Instruments?

Triangle.

17. Languages?

German, English, bad French, worse Spanish... and I can understand a little bit of Dutch.

18. Celebrity crushes?

Don’t really have one.

19. Random fact?

I sometimes realize I totally forgot to answer people and then I’m scared to just... slide back into the dm‘s. And then I get sad because I wanna write with those people and I miss them horribly but I was the one to randomly vanish for a whole month and I actually feel really bad for it but somehow it happens again and again. ;-;

20. Favorite ecosystem?

Uhhhh... forests probably. And grasslands, if I‘d have a horse... I don’t have one but I recently had this dream of me having a horse—

21. Favorite cat species?

I love cats in general. Idk what species exactly Ivory was (I actually think something mixed-?) but she was a gorgeous cat with really long and elegant legs. She was really clumsy tho. But still adorable, calm, sometimes playful and overall really gentle.

Tagging @rockmarina @samyistrying @drarryruinedme7 @april-thelightfury115 @aceveria @ohheavenlylord @parkkate @triggerlil @keyflight790 @practicefortheheart @xx-thedarklord-xx @qmortentia @nourix-png @jackofallplagues @fictional @teruyo @mslyramalfoy @sirene312 @big-draco-energy @cibeewastaken @latibaris (well, I tagged some blogs I normally wouldn’t tag because I‘m hella afraid of annoying anyone so in case someone wants their tag removed please tell me and I‘ll do that or feel free to just ignore this. I’m so sorry in advance!

And of course it’s up to everyone if you wanna do this or not, no pressure. <3)

#hey i managed to come up with 21 people #but im actually so anxious about that lmaooo #but ima just click on post before i decide to delete the tags #btw these are all amazing people so check them out i absolutely adore their blogs

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nadjaofstatenisland · 4 years

Text

@moretvforyou forgive me for answering this way but I don’t want this showing up in the flice tag (contrary to what they all seem to think i’m actually not an asshole lmao) I feel like I answered this question a million times during s2 but I am too lazy to look for something and it’s been long enough I can dive into this with a fresh outlook.

I fell in love with Alice Cooper in s1. Like head over heels from the second I heard her shit talking her daughter’s dead boyfriend. I already loved Madchen and it was such a nice surprise to see her in this show and I just... LOVE. And I loved Hal soon enough too. And their relationship was one of the few marriages we had on the show at the time and they intrigued me to no end. Their dynamic was fascinating and the way they played off each other was amazing. Even their fights in s1 had me on the edge of me seat. And low and behold one of my favorite scenes in that whole season was the homecoming dinner!

I’ve probably written so much about that homecoming dinner at this point I could get a masters degree in it. What a scene!! Alice and Hal are polite fighting in front of FP. Alice wants to weasel something incriminating out of FP while Hal is trying to embarrass her and FP is having the ever loving time of his life watching... and then he drops that whole bomb about the fight at homecoming (which we soon find out was about the baby) and I was like PLEASE tell me more about these guys back in high school. All of them! They all felt like old friends awkwardly talking again after many years and I loved it. Hal felt like he was doing that classic “embarrass my partner in front of their friend to annoy them!” thing. Plus this scene and the one of them outside in 1x10 seemed to spark interest in the parents and I was pleased! I wanted more parent scenes!! Any of them!

Then I’d wander on tumblr after s1 and people were shipping them and thinking he was the real father of Alice’s baby and be like hahaha okay... suuure. And I was forming friendships with so many Alice stans who mostly seemed to hate Hal and want her with FP and I was like ???? what is happening.

Now let me make it clear. s1? flice was never a couple in high school. They were two kids both from the southside (we didnt even know alice was a serpent back then). Could I have gotten down with some “they dated in high school for a bit” plot like with fremione? Sure. But that wasn’t the case. Fremione was our old high school couple we were supposed to root for! But then...they just dropped that. And gave it to flice! And then gave halice’s baby to flice. And then made both Hal and Gladys villains to make flice okay! But I am jumping ahead of myself.

In s1 halice were high school sweethearts. Alice came from the wrong side of the tracks! Do you know what Alice would have never in any universe have done? Married a man who she didn’t really love just to get ahead in life. If that was the case why not marry someone like Fred? Why stick with Hal if she never loved him? Because she did. Christ both times Hal moved out (both when she kicks him out and when he he leaves himself) she falls into this slump. It’s sad. Like we’re allowed to have a strong woman who loved her husband but didn’t just marry him for his social status? Like why do people enjoy this idea that both Alice and FP married people they didn’t love for convenience?

Look... that baby was Hal’s until mid way through s2 when they decided it all of a sudden was FP’s. FP was actively sleeping with Alice in high school, knew she got pregnant, and never thought it was his?? Like he’s dumb but not that dumb. Even when she tells him in s2 he’s like “huh?” like it totally forgot the whole homecoming dinner scene. Then the flashback episode makes no scene because halice were high school sweethearts but they don’t start dating until she’s several months pregnant. Once again, Hal is not so stupid he doesn’t know how long it takes to make a baby. Please.

THEN the show had to make Hal the Black Hood so it’d be okay for them or to just get him out of the picture because the guy who played Tall Boy got injured filming so it couldn’t be him. Instead of just like... having halice divorce? Like what was the point of the Penelope affair then if not to pave a way to get rid of Hal? What was the point of them reconciling in 2x18 just for him to kill a teenager by the end of the episode?? What??? Like as sad as them getting divorced would have made me it would have made the whole flice stuff a little more tolerable. And I’m not just saying this for ship reasons like its just literally a more realistic thing that should have happened. Not Hal being a fucking serial killer out of no where.

Then they introduce Gladys and MAKE HER A VILLAIN FOR DEALING DRUGS WHEN FP HAS DONE SO MUCH BULLSHIT??? FP is literally a corrupt sheriff at the time getting mad at his wife for dealing drugs I have to laugh. Watching this whole fandom bash Gladys for moving to Toledo while they jerk off to FP despite him burying bodies and shooting people... okay. Despite the shit i talk i don’t hate FP i just hate the double standard in this fandom. Even Alice doesn’t get a pass like FP does.

Look... I just don’t like them together. At least not as more than just friends. Hell I even toyed around with them having had a little thing in high school in fics and all it ever got greeted with is backhanded comments. And I particularly don’t like the idea of them and bughead living under one roof that is fucking weird and there is no way around it. I ignore scenes with them at this point and am glad they’ll soon be over for good. I was also sent hate constantly in s2 and 3 for just not like them (yet purposely never interacting with their shippers) so I’m also just bitter by the ship all together at this point and I hope this rant ends up screenshot on twitter like all my other rants are. 😘😘😘

tldr: it would have been tolerable if it was planned from the beginning but it clearly wasn’t and I hate it lmao

#i proofread NONE of this sorry lmao #alice cooper #fp jones #gladys jones #hal cooper #parentdale #riverparents

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a-second-hand-sorrow · 5 years

Text

Paper Rings (Richie Tozier X Reader)

WC: 3952

Warnings: Language, kinda sexual stuff at one point, alcohol, weed, tiny bit of angst at the end but not much

Summary: Y/N and Richie’s relationship through ‘Paper Rings’

A/N: The bitch is back y’all. I apologise for not having written in about 8 billion years, but I’m back. I hope you guys enjoy this, bc I really love it.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

2009

Y/N had never been a fan of parties. Ever since high school she would always be the one to stay home and re-watch her favourite movies instead of going to parties. Unfortunately, now that she had a career in comedy writing she was being dragged to parties left, right and centre, and she hated them all.

“Mulaney, please tell me why I’m coming to this thing? I’m going to miss Seinfeld and you know I live for that shit.” Y/N whined, tugging on the sleeve of John’s jacket while he rolled his eyes.

“They’ve been playing episodes of that show every night since 1989, and you’ve watched each one about three times over, Y/N. I think you can afford to miss one night’s rerun.” John said, causing Y/N to let out a groan of protest.

“It’s about the habits, John. The habits.” Y/N mumbled, and John shook his head like an irritated parent.

“You’re coming with me to this party, Y/N. I’ve heard they’ve got this bigshot comic coming in from LA so just think about that potential opportunity before you complain again.” John said, and Y/N narrowed her eyes before caving, causing her friend to give her a victorious smile.

The pair walked into the crowded club, and Y/N immediately grimaced at the loud music and the overwhelming stench of alcohol and weed. “Real classy joint, huh?” She muttered to John, who simply chuckled in response.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, and I want you to mingle. Have some fun Y/N. Let loose for once!” John said, gripping Y/N’s shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest but John quickly snuck away before she could say anything.

Y/N pouted, trying to navigate her way through the bustling club. Eventually she found her way to a booth where she saw a group of people, including one manwho was strangely familiar to her. She heard him laughing and she found herself beginning to laugh as well as she walked up to the booth.

“Hey sweetheart! You lost?” One of the men at the booth called, and suddenly all of their eyes were directed towards her. Y/N let out a nervous laugh and shook her head, a slight smile on her face.

“My friend ditched me. He told me I needed to mingle and have some fun, his words not mine.” Y/N said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she made brief eye contact with the oddly familiar man. He had a head of wild black hair and was wearing glasses so big they nearly covered his face.

“Well, uh, you can come sit with us if you want.” The man spoke, a kind smile on his face as he looked up at her, and she knew she was done for.

“Sounds good.” Y/N said, laughing lightly as she watched the men scoot along so there was enough room in the booth for her.

“I’m Y/N by the way, in case you were wondering.” Y/N said once she had settled herself next to the very kind, very attractive man in the glasses.

“I’m Richie Tozier, and this is Carol Feeny and Steve Covall.” As soon as Y/N heard his name she smiled, not really thinking as she politely shook hands with Carol and Steve.

“I’m just gonna put it out here now, Steve and I are a bit high so sorry in advance if we do or say anything weird.” Carol said, and Y/N gave her a thumbs up before shooting Richie a confused look. He let out a laugh at her expression, and Y/N felt her stomach fill with butterflies.

“This is like a normal Saturday night for them, I just tagged along because they’re my friends and I don’t want them dying or whatever.” Richie said, raising his voice slightly due to the loud music.

“Glad to know. Well, here’s to getting to know strangers at a wild party.” Y/N said, lifting her drink as Richie did the same. They tapped their glasses together and Y/N couldn’t shake the giddy feeling that washed over her as soon as their eyes met.

Oh yeah, she was well and truly fucked.

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

2009

“John Edmund Mulaney, I need your goddamn help.” Y/N said, busting his bedroom door open and pulling the covers off his bed. John groaned, giving the girl a dirty look as she stood in his doorway, a determined look on her face.

“What the hell do you want Y/L/N? It is Sunday morning and I am too hungover to breathe.” John grumbled, rolling over reluctantly as Y/N sat down cross-legged next to him on his bed.

“I met this guy at the party last night and I forgot to online stalk him last night so I need to do it now.” Y/N said, and John sighed as he sat up, rubbing his eyes before turning his attention to Y/N.

“Did you at least get his name?” John said and Y/N nodded eagerly, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“Yeah, he said his name was Richie Tozier.” Y/N said and John’s eyes widened as he sat up straighter, looking at Y/N with shock.

“Y/N do you have any idea who that is?” John said, and Y/N shook her head, giving him a confused look.

“Remember when I said there was going to be some bigshot comic from LA at the party last night? Well that’s him! Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier! He’s massive right now.” John said, snatching Y/N’s phone and plugging his name into Google as the wheels turned in Y/N’s head.

“Is this him?” John said, pulling up a photo of him to show to Y/N. She nodded, the pieces starting to fall into place. John let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N how the hell are you a comedy writer who doesn’t know one of the biggest names in comedy right now? Honestly woman.” John said, handing Y/N her phone back. Y/N took it graciously and she immediately found Richie’s social media accounts and followed him on Facebook and Twitter.

“What can I say, I’m ridiculously stupid Johnny. I’ll go make you some breakfast as a thank you for making it very easy to stalk this guy.” Y/N said, ruffling John’s hair before leaving his bedroom with a smile on her face.

For the rest of the day Y/N was deep in Richie’s social media feeds, and it was so bad that she found a photo of his bedside table on Twitter and immediately found and then bought all the books that were on the table so she could read them.

As she was in bed that night watching a video from one of Richie’s specials on YouTube, she saw two notifications pop up on her phone.

Richie Tozier is now friends with you on Facebook

@TrashmouthTozier is following you on Twitter

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

2009

“Y/N, John, so good to see you guys! Welcome to Saturday Night Live!” It was Y/N and John’s first day as writers for Saturday Night Live and they were both panicking internally as they were being shown around the studio.

They were shown writing rooms and all the relevant things they needed to know, before their guide told them one final piece of information. “Oh, and the first host you’ll be working with is Richie Tozier. He’ll be here in about 20 minutes to discuss sketch ideas with the team, you guys included. Good luck!”

Upon hearing this crucial fact Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned to John, who instead was sporting a smug look. “Holy shit, did she just say Richie Tozier? As in Richie from that party a few weeks ago Tozier? As in the guy I am so very into but won’t talk to because I get really anxious?” Y/N was rambling, her words and her breathing getting faster and faster as she started to pace back and forth.

“Yes, the very same guy.” John said, sitting down at a table as Y/N continued pacing.

“Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck! What do I do John? He’s a comic genius and I am just a lowly rat writer.” Y/N said, starting to feel light headed from all the hyperventilation. John sighed, standing up and marching over to his friend. He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“Y/N, calm down. You just have to keep it professional for now, and then at the after party on Saturday night or the very early hours of Sunday morning you can get piss drunk and hopefully sleep with him.” John said with a straight face, and Y/N let out a huff. She went to respond, but a familiar voice stopped her.

“Hey, I wouldn’t happen to be interrupting something, would I?” At the sound of Richie’s voice Y/N spun around, knocking John’s arms off her shoulders in the process.

“Nope, not at all. You’re all good, Richie.” Y/N said, internally cursing for being so casual with him. Richie just gave John a wave before stepping into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” John said, and Richie obliged. As he walked around to the table he passed by Y/N, stopping to whisper something in her ear.

“It’s really good to see you again Y/N. I’ve missed you.”

2015

Y/N felt so comfortable in Richie’s arms, and in her mind there was absolutely nothing like it. They always fell asleep the same way; with Y/N’s head on Richie’s chest, her arm slung across his torso and his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

Some nights Y/N would wake up at around one or two in the morning and just watch Richie for a while before going back to sleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

She woke slowly, the warmth of Richie’s body almost lulling her back to sleep as she opened her eyes. She took in a deep breath, shifting slightly so she could gaze at Richie without waking him up.

He always looked so peaceful when he slept. It was something Y/N had noted since the night they first slept together, and she never got tired of seeing her always energetic husband at peace.

Y/N was almost mesmerised by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and she couldn’t help but lift a hand to his face and gently stroke his cheek. She felt his body stir slightly, and a gentle smile appeared on her face when she heard him let out a little groan.

His eyes opened and he smiled almost immediately when he saw Y/N’s eyes staring back at him. “Y/N, why are you up?” He asked, his voice deep and groggy with sleep.

“Just like watching you sleep, sue me.” Y/N said softly, pecking his lips before resting her forehead against his.

“You’re a creep, wifey dearest. I love it. I love you.” Richie mumbled, kissing Y/N lightly in between his words. Y/N let out a giggle before dropping her head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too, but you should really get some sleep mister. I’ll still be here when you wake up, don’t worry.” Y/N said, melting a little when Richie’s hand came to rest over hers on his cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N/N.”

“Night Rich.”

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night

Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause I waited my whole life

2011

Y/N had been working on this sketch for about eight hours and had gotten practically nowhere. She was almost tearing her hair out, having gone through at least ten cups of coffee in the last hour alone. Richie was performing somewhere downtown and John was out with his girlfriend, meaning that Y/N was tired and alone in her apartment.

She checked her phone to see that it was now verging on one o’clock, and she groaned loudly, both at the time and her lack of progress. She went to put her phone down before seeing a text from Richie, causing her heart to skip a beat.

Trash Boy: I’m outside with Chinese food, shitty coffee and the potential for a lot of cuddles. Please let me in. I nearly dropped a chow mein writing this.

She let out a relieved laugh, a smile blooming on her face as she raced to the door, pulling it open to reveal her beautiful, wonderful boyfriend. Richie seemed to be drowning in bags so Y/N ushered him in quickly, shutting the door as he unloaded all his bags onto her dining room table.

“Ok, so I’ve got some fried rice and what I think is satay beef, honestly I have no.” Richie’s words were cut off by Y/N grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. His hands quickly found her waist while hers found his hair. When they pulled apart they were breathing heavily, and Y/N let out a chuckle when she noticed his glasses had fogged up slightly.

“Not that I’m complaining but was there any reason for that?” Richie asked once he had caught his breath, and Y/N chuckled as her head found its way into the crook of Richie’s neck.

“I’ve had a super long night and then you brought me the food and the coffee even after your show and I just fucking love you so much.” Y/N admitted, and Richie’s eyes widened slightly at the confession. It was the first time either of them had said those words, and it made Y/N look up at her boyfriend with trepidation in her eyes.

“Rich I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t too soon or anything, but I really do love you.” Y/N said, her voice a lot meeker than it was previously. Richie’s look of surprised melted into one of pure adoration, and he simply leaned down and kissed Y/N, long and hard.

“I love you too Y/N, so fucking much.”

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want

2015

“Babe, have you seen my good blazer? The grey one!” Richie called out from across the house, causing Y/N to groan in annoyance.

“Rich I told you it was hanging up in your closet next to your wedding suit, and if you tell me you can’t remember which one that is, so help me God you will get my shoe so far up your ass it isn’t funny.” Y/N hollered, putting her earrings in with a little more force than usual.

“Found it, thanks babe!” Richie called back, and Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately as she straightened the skirt of her dress. Tonight was the taping of Richie’s most recent special for Netflix, and he wanted Y/N to be there in the front row.

She looked her outfit over once more before catching a glimpse of the framed photo that sat just outside their bathroom. It was of her and Richie kissing with a disgruntled John next to them, and she gave it a tender look before making her way over to their bedroom, where Richie was trying to psych himself up for the show. Y/N wrapped her arms around his middle from behind, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“You nervous Rich?” She asked and he nodded immediately, taking in a deep but shaky breath. Y/N moved so she was now standing in front of him, her arms still resting securely around his waist.

“You shouldn’t be, honestly. You are the funniest man I have ever met, and my best friend is John Mulaney. I have so much confidence that you will go out there and make that stage your bitch, Richie, and I will be sitting there right in the front row, watching it all. I couldn’t be prouder of my amazing husband.” Y/N said, lifting one hand to cup her husband’s cheek. She noticed a tear begin to fall and she gently swiped it away, sending him a genuine smile.

“How did I get so lucky?” Richie said, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. She let out a soft laugh as she hugged him back, rubbing her hands up and down his back.

“Honestly Rich, you could’ve proposed to me with a paper ring and I would’ve said yes, and you know how much I like my shiny stuff.” Y/N said, and Richie burst out laughing, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple.

“Come on, woman of my dreams. We have somewhere to be.”

In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool

When you jumped in first, I went in too

I'm with you even if it makes me blue

2013

“Welcome to the Christmas extravaganza, Toziers.” John said, ushering Y/N and Richie into the warm house. Every inch of spare space was covered in Christmas decorations, and the scent of gingerbread and mulled wine was thick in the air.

“God this is amazing. I’m assuming Anna was responsible for most of the decoration?” Y/N asked, causing John to pull a rather insulted face that made both Y/N and Richie chuckle.

“I’m hurt, however you would be right there. She’s always been more talented in the design aspect of things. Did you guys want a drink?” John said, and the couple nodded quickly. John laughed to himself as he went to fetch three glasses of mulled wine.

The amount of mulled wine consumed increased greatly over the course of the night, and by about ten o’clock John, Y/N and Richie were well past it. “Hey Y/N, how much do you bet that Richie will jump in the pool?” John asked, and Y/N let out a laugh of disbelief.

“There’s no way in hell he’d do that. It’s fucking freezing, right Rich?” Y/N said, turning to look at her husband. Instead of the shock and repulsion she thought she’d see on his face, Y/N instead saw a look of contemplation and deep thought.

“How much are you offering, Mulaney?” Richie said, and John’s face split into a Cheshire cat grin, much to Y/N’s horror. “I’ll give you fifty if you do it, one hundred if Y/N does it as well.” John said, and Y/N’s eyes went wide as Richie stood straight up, already shedding his jacket and outer shirt.

“Come on Y/N, it’ll be fun!” Richie said, taking his shoes and base shirt off before unbuckling his belt. Y/N let out a whine of protest, watching as her piss drunk husband stumbled towards the freezing outdoor pool.

“Richie, don’t you dare!” Y/N shouted, but it was too late. Richie had already jumped in, and even though she knew she’d regret it, she jumped in too.

Which takes me back

To the color that we painted your brother's wall

Honey, without all the exes, fights, and flaws

We wouldn't be standing here so tall

2010

Painting was hard work, Y/N had come to realise. When her brother said he needed one of the walls in his apartment re-painted, Y/N had volunteered without even thinking, which is what caused her and Richie to be spending a precious Sunday covered in sweat and blue paint.

“I can’t believe that instead of staying at home and fucking each other senseless, we are painting your brother’s feature wall. Fantastic.” Richie grumbled, painting the wall with much more aggression than necessary.

“Easy Tozier. I’m doing this as a favour for my brother, and if you keep complaining there will be no chance of us fucking each other senseless at all today or tonight.” Y/N said sharply, and Richie gave her an annoyed look, sticking his tongue out as a childish gesture of irritation.

The painting took quite a bit of time, with Y/N and Richie leaving the apartment at around four o’clock. When they got home Y/N was straight in the shower, itching to get the paint off of her skin.

“You’d better not be having a shower without me, you minx! Wait for me!”

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

2016

“Mrs Tozier?” Y/N walked up to the young stagehand who had called her name, a kind smile on her face.

“Please, just call me Y/N honey. What do you need?” She said, gently touching the young girl’s arm.

“Its your husband. He’s really not feeling well, and he asked for me to get you.” Y/N’s face dropped slightly upon hearing that news, but she kept up the smiling front with a little less sincerity than before.

“Where is he?” Y/N asked, and the stagehand lead her through the back corridors of the venues until she came to a fire exit door.

“He’s out there.” The girl said before leaving, and Y/N felt confused as she opened the door, though the confusion turned into concern and worry as soon as she saw Richie. He had clearly just vomited and he was shaking like a leaf.

“Shit, Richie. What happened?” Y/N asked, rushing forward to wrap her arms around the man she loved. His arms snaked around her waist almost instinctively, and she felt him rest his head against her chest.

“I got a call from home… from Derry.” He breathed out, and Y/N felt all her muscles tense up. She knew Richie didn’t talk much about his childhood or his hometown, but from what she gathered it was not a good place, and clearly the phone call must have brought some stuff up in Richie.

“Shit. Are you good, babe?” Y/N asked and Richie let out a shaky breath, lifting his head so he could look up at her.

“I don’t know. I was fine but when I heard Mike tell me he needed me to come back to Derry I just lost it.” Richie said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Ok well do you still wanna do the show or not, because you don’t really look that red hot, Rich.” Y/N said with concern evident in her voice.

“No, I’ll still do the show, but we have to go back to Derry as soon as we can after it, ok?” Richie said, an almost pleading tone in his voice. Y/N nodded, kissing the top of his head.

“All of your problems, all of your shit, you can share it with me. For better or worse, right? And if you need it, I will drive away with you at a moment’s notice. I love you Richie Tozier. Always have and always will.” Y/N said, and when she met Richie’s gaze she was almost overwhelmed with the sheer emotion in his eyes.

“I will never love someone as much as I love you, Y/N Tozier. You’re my world. Now let go of me so I can go do some kickass comedy.” Y/N chuckled at Richie’s words and obliged, letting go of her husband.

Though neither one of the couple knew what their trip to Derry would have in stall for them, the sheer love between them was enough for them.

#it #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #bill hader #paper rings #paper rings universe

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