#i wanted to post some pictures from my weekend trip with my friends before its too late but then i saw my fucking face and now i wanna kms
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widevibratobitch Ā· 1 year ago
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#vent post vent post lalalala#i wanted to post some pictures from my weekend trip with my friends before its too late but then i saw my fucking face and now i wanna kms#like oh my god. oh my god this is really truly the face im stuck with forever and ever and ever till the day im fuckin rotting in the groun#incredible how unfair life can be lmao (<- girl who is having such incredibly superficial stupid fucking problems but is otherwise#quite privileged but of course that will never be fucking enough for her because she's soooooo fckn stupid and selfish and annoyinggg lol)#i dont know why im so obsessed with it now#like i genuinely remember KNOWING that im kinda ugly (and fat) in high school and being like 'so what lol idc'#so WHY is it such an issue now?????#idk. i just kinda wish i was dead every time i look at my face and realise there's nothing i can do to change it#i can dress in ways that will cover my ugly ass shapeless body. maybe i can even go back to my ed properly this time#and lose some weight. for a time. before i gain back twice as much and the circle begins anew lol#but my face is not gonna change no matter what i do lmao unless i fucking scrape it off with a grater or smash my head into pieces#and like. even if i do get that rhinoplasty (its not gonna change my faceshape anyway. nothing i can do to fix THAT fuckin atrocity)#every time ill look in the mirror i will only be reminded that its fake. and that my natural face was disgusting enough it had to be cut up#to be fixed somewhat.#i just wish i had ONE. just ONE nice thing about my body. literally just one its not even funny lol#and its so fucked up when you look at my mom who was so insanely fucking beautiful when she was my age. like. i cant blame her#cause how could she have known that the genes she'll pass on will not result in anything good lol but also i feel like such a failure#like its not really my fault i got the genes i got. but yknow.#anyway im tired of always being the ugliest person in any group im hanging out with. my cousins? check. my hometown friends? check.#my uni friends? my GOD check (how ARE they all so pretty and skinny??? insane).#god i wish i were dead. like fr fr. im not actively suicidal since i cant bring myself to *do* shit anyway. but i just wish i never existed
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yesimwriting Ā· 8 months ago
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Felix and lovie:
L: but... arent promise rings meant for bfs and gfs?
Felix: i mean, we made the promise to always be close so its our promise ring i think.
L: i guess youre right!
Farleigh: šŸ§šŸ¾ā€ā™‚ļø
i want to queue posts before i go on my trip but i also i love instant gratification ahhh
this isnā€™t exactly promise rings but i think it feels pretty close
His room still smells the same--faint traces of smoke and cologne blending into slightly humid air. You're not sure what you expected. Felix left for a weekend for some family function his mother wanted him to attend. Two days.
Not a significant amount of time. Not enough time to change anything, and yet you felt every second of it. You missed him. Missed him more than you think you'd ever be willing to admit.
"Did you miss me?" There's no way he knows what you were thinking about, but there's something about the slight tilt of his head and his barely there smile.
You hold his gaze for a beat before letting your attention fall to your shoes. "Maybe a little."
Felix's mouth falls open in a mock gasp. "Maybe?" And then, still completely appalled, "A little?"
You press your lips together into a firm line to keep from laughing at his reaction. Felix moves to stand, leaving his bed in favor of approaching you. In an attempt to hold your ground, you cross your arms in front of your chest. Felix disregards your feeble line of defense, continuing forward until you're within easy reach.
"I could say--" Felix places a firm hand on your shoulder. A sound between a laugh and something slightly more panicked tumbles through your sentence. "I could say I missed you a lot, but--" Another hand on your other shoulder, another clumsy laugh. "But I don't need to feed your ego."
He pulls you forward gently until your face hits his chest. You halfheartedly lift your arm in an empty attempt to push him away. You're quicker to embrace defeat, glad for the excuse to be near him, really near him.
You hugged Felix when he first got back to campus, but with his usual crowd all desperate to catch up with him and Farleigh right there, you felt a little more watched than usual. You couldn't do what you really wanted, couldn't take a beat to just absorb Felix's warmth.
"So you were being mean."
You're only half listening, more focused on wrapping your arms around Felix. The scent of his detergent is stronger than usual, nearly obscuring the scent of his cigarettes entirely. Maybe he smoked less this weekend. You try to picture Felix under some kind of authority, sneaking cigarettes out on a patio to avoid upsetting his parents. It's so normal, a part of you regrets not getting to see him like that.
His hand presses against your back. "Lovie?"
You lift your head enough to look at him. "Yeah?"
Felix's eyebrows briefly pull together. He watches you for a moment before grinning. "You missed me."
His smugness has the instinct to protest crawling up your throat, but there's something so content about his expression, you can't bring yourself to deny it the way you usually would. "I missed you. A lot."
Felix's grin broadens. He tilts his head downwards, his lips briefly brushing against your forehead. He straightens before responding, "You could have come with me."
You did meet Felix's sister during your Christmas break trip, and she was really nice, but Felix's world is still something you're vaguely wary of. Maybe you could have come around to the idea of meeting Felix's parents, but the thought of attending some event intended only for his family was a little overwhelming, especially because Felix didn't invite any of his other friends.
"It was a family thing."
Felix lets out a soft sigh. "I brought Farleigh."
"Farleigh's your cousin, he was already invited."
He pulls back slightly, his hands moving away from your back as he lets go of you. "No one cares if you bring a date to those things." It's the same argument he used in an attempt to get you to go with him. "It's to keep the night bearable."
"Bearable?" You beam. "You missed me."
From you, it's an accusation. Felix's eyebrows draw together, like he's unsure why you felt the need to say something so obvious. "I missed you." He shifts back on his heels in a way that borders on uncertain. "So much, I brought you back a present."
You raise your eyebrows at that. Felix is a thorough person. When he gives someone his attention, that person has his entire focus. When Felix gives presents, he tends to be just as generous. It's not a bad thing, but it is something the two of you have talked about. Yes, you're best friends, but that doesn't mean you want Felix splurging on you. Even if it's not splurging to him.
Felix turns, walking towards the bag that he left on his bed. With his back to you, it's a little easier to watch him openly. He went to English countryside for some charity event put on by some cousin. What could he have gotten? "A present?"
He unzips his bag. "Yes," Felix shifts through his close, "A present."
When Felix turns to face you again, there's a something small and square in his hand. The closer Felix gets, the clearer the object becomes. A box that's oddly reminiscent of a jewelry box.
With an abruptness that doesn't seem to suit him, Felix extends his arm to hand you the box. You watch Felix as you take the box, doing your best to decipher his expression. He's strangely blank.
You open the box, revealing a ring safely tucked between cushioned velvet. There's an image carved into the flat face of the ring. The carving of an arrow-pierced hand emerging from a crown is vaguely familiar. You might have cared about placing the image more if the ring was less stunning.
"You um--you wear a lot of rings, so I thought..."
You do wear a lot of rings, there are several on your fingers right now. "It's really pretty."
"My mum was going through some older pieces this weekend and it reminded me of you." The explanation is mumbled cautiously, Felix's attention shifting from you to the ring and then back to you.
Your lips part, an uncertainty you're not accustomed to feeling around him making it hard to speak. You don't know everything about Felix's family history, but you know enough to understand that when he says something from his home is old, he means it.
"Lex." The gesture tugs at a sentimental part of you that exists solely in the pit of your stomach. "That's really sweet, and it's really pretty, but I can't take some family heirloom from you."
His eyebrows pinch together in a way that feels more confused than directly unhappy. "You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you." Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "C'mon, I've got loads of these, it's just been sitting in some closet."
Felix is watching you with wide, almost pleading eyes. You let your gaze fall back onto the ring. With no warning, Felix places a hand over yours. "We'll trade."
You don't fully understand what he's getting at until Felix starts to straighten your fingers. He twists the ring that's on your ring finger. It's a nice ring, a simple band with thin carvings that you picked up at a vintage jewelry shop on a whim, but it's not exactly an even trade.
Felix slides the ring off your finger. A trade is a little easier to accept. The two of you share things like bracelets all the time. "Okay," you pause to take a breath, "But if you ever want it back..."
"Yeah, I know." The words feel like a dismissal. You narrow your eyes briefly, but don't push the subject the way you normally would. You're too happy to see him to care about technicalities.
Felix pulls the ring out of the box and slips onto your finger. You bend your fingers and turn over your hand to get a feel for the ring and its size. It fits. "It's really nice."
"It suits you."
Before Felix can pull your ring onto his finger, you put your hand over his. He lets take your ring from between his fingers. You hold your thumb beneath Felix's palm, the rest of your fingers curling over his knuckles. Felix keeps his fingers straight as you place your own ring on his finger. "There."
Felix grins. "There?"
"Yeah, it's--" You ignore the warmth attempting to make its way up your neck. "It's in place."
He stretches his fingers, studying the way the band looks on him. There's something about his expression you can't quite read, but it doesn't seem unpleasant. He drops his hand before you can attempt to decipher his thoughts any further. "Do you want to watch a movie?"
You drag your thumb against the side of the ring. "Yeah, a movie sounds nice."
----
fun fact the design carved into the ring is supposed to be the catton family crest :)
taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy
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simp-ly-writes Ā· 9 months ago
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Life with You
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Can be read as a standalone. "Can you check my heart?" - pt.3
Paring: Jack Glass x afab!Reader
Summary: How the rest of your lives play-out together after dating.
Warnings: I know hardly anything about boxing/competitive fighting. light swearing, protectiveness, and TON's of fluff. mentions of pregnancy.
A/N: a bit chaotic writing order but, *shrugs.*
Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.
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ā†³ You two are 100% one of those gym couples that post your workouts together. There is definitely a picture of you sat on his back while Jack does push ups or some spider-man style kiss. Susie posts comments grossed out about the two of you but threatens to kill Jack if he ends up breaking your heart
ā†³ In light of this, you and Jack take morning jogs together before "saving water" by showering together. You two fight over what music to play and before you know it- its an ice-shower that morning.
ā†³ Doing meal-prep together in the evening for the week as you talk with his trainer and new assistant for the recommended proteins and what snacks to keep inside your apartment meanwhile Jack is hiding in the bedroom snacking on your favourite cereal that he promises to buy you more of ("...as much want, baby.")
ā†³ Your apartment soon gets sold a few weeks into dating once Jack insists that he cannot sleep without having you in his arms. While moving in Jack insists on you only carrying the light boxes as he requests for some of Susie's men to help you unload your car
ā†³ Play-fighting on the couch for the remote or shoving one another side while playing Mario Kart. You both make everything a competition, even running to the car after work for who gets to drive or seeing who can be the cooler aunt/uncle with your nieces and nephews
ā†³ Date nights consist of planned dinners together every-other weekend and projector move nights of the ceiling above your bed. Going boating in the summertime before jumping into the water with you in his arms. Many hiking trips and late night drives before becoming cozy in the backseat.
ā†³ While out or meeting his friends, always introduces you as "his girl" as you go a bright red and shake their hands with a chuckle. (Soon everyone is getting sick of you two being "that couple.")
ā†³ Jacks nicknames for you include: doc, my girl, baby, and goblin (affectionately) after you woke up one morning seeking revenge, chasing his around the house with your pillow for him waking you up before your alarm went off.
ā†³ Your nicknames for Jack: jay, honey, sunshine (especially after a fight, he acts like he hates the nickname but not so secretly adores it).
ā†³ Jack always needs to have a physical connection to you, playing with your hair as you talk with some of your friends or family. Holding your hand as you pick out groceries together. Dancing with you in the kitchen- hands on your hips. Foreheads pressed against one another, meditating before a fight
ā†³ You are the first and last person he sees in every fight, you take him out of his adrenaline-filled state as you rub his muscles later that night before he rolls around and does the same for you.
ā†³ When you are for some reason unable to make a fight of his, you find flowers waiting for you on the kitchen counter and a small note to call him before and after the fight. ("need to remember who I am doing this for...").
ā†³ When you have been dating for awhile, you find yourself pregnant you are scared to tell Jack. He is in the prime of his career, you don't think he would want to settle down already and you hide yourself away. Staying at a friends house as Jack panics, thinking that you were gathering up the courage to break up with him
ā†³ Jack dresses more formally, a nice dress shirt and pair of jeans as he knocks at your best friends door, your favorite flowers and snacks in arms. You open the door, eyes puffy from crying so much as Jack drops everything, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tuck your head in underneath his chin.
ā†³ This man is ecstatic that you two are going to be parents, jumps up and down that the neighbours below the apartment make a complaint as Jack explains to them you are expecting.
ā†³ Susie gifts you designer baby clothes, insisting that it is going to be a girl, you all hope them to be a girl (but are more than perfectly fine with them being a baby boy, Jack wants to be a girl dad lets be real about that too).
ā†³ If it does end of being a boy, Jack is already readying you both to have a girl, man is willing to do anything to braid hair, play dress-up, trains his son to protect them from potential romantic interests
ā†³ You have to warn Jack about playing to hard with the kids as he races around the new backyard of your country side home on the same land of the Halstead estate as Susie and Eddie have become more interwoven in each others lives than ever before
ā†³ Jack did continue to box and you respected his decision, though you both did argue about joining him on the road as you refused to re-take your ringside position, wanting to spend time with the kids, picking them up after school, having meals together, going to the park. You did not want to miss a moment.
ā†³ When he would come home the kids were always waiting at the door for him by the sound of the car pulling into the driveway. Jack picked both of them up, one in each arm while pressing a kiss to your lips as they groaned out in disgust as Jack told them off. ("I love your mom, nothing to be grossed out about now.")
ā†³ When Susie offers to watch the kids, its as if no time has passed and you are back to that honeymoon stage. What shocked you most is when Jack got on one knee and proposed to you under fairy lights by the bayside. A small table and staff waiting on hand as they clapped and cheered happily for your engagement
ā†³ You had a beachside wedding as Jack carried you off into the sea as you screamed out your protests as every wedding guest ran to join you both. It was one of your favorite photos that hug above your shared bed as you sipped your tea, Jack coming out of the shower and placing a kiss to your shoulder before both kids bursted into the room, ready to join you both for the night.
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ā†³ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung
ā†³ A/N: Tell me what divine entity I need to pray to for this to become reality.
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wildlife4life Ā· 1 year ago
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Fuck-it Friday
OMG GUYS HAS IT BEEN A DAY and ITS STILL FRIDAY! And I know I'm late this evening and here is a short run down why: Had to pack for three people and my dogs for a short family trip this weekend, had to get gas and air up the stroller tires, had to pick up the kid then head off on a 2 hr 45 minutes drive, kid pukes all over self making drive over 3 hours, finally arrive to destination before heading back out to keep a promise to my sister, make it back to original destination to make dinner at 8 PM! Have to walk dogs because were not home with the big back yard and then I finally get to sit down. To top it off, no wifi, just the hotspot on my phone so desktop tumblr is kinda slow.... So yea, it has been a day and its still not over. Fuck this Friday lol
So thank you all who have tagged me! @watchyourbuck, @jesuisici33, @spotsandsocks, @diazblunt, @disasterbuckdiaz, and @wikiangela It took time but I saw all your wonderful posts for today!
Special shoutout to @ladydorian05 for shouting me out today! Special tag for you for todays NFL Buck post!
Alright, here is another fakestagram post with an itty bitty snippet to go along with it. Enjoy!
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Hen looks over at her best friend, smiling cheekily at his own phone. "Really Chimney?" she asks in disdain. Chimney just shrugs, "He hasn't minded since that whole late night sit down you two had. In fact I think its some sort of secret kink for him. I told you about the roll of monopoly money a few weeks ago and the sly smile that he thought I didn't see." "Okay. Ew. I don't need to know anyone else's kinks besides my wife's." "Well me neither, but at the same time kind of nice to know Diaz isn't the well pressed, one position, solider boy." Chim points out. "Thought you knew that weeks ago after I caught him sexting, twice!" Hen reminds. Chimney waves his hand around, "That was his boyfriend sexting him and Bobby warned us off before we could prod him any further." His phone pings with a new message. A quick glance and his entire face furrowed in irritation, "Ass." Hen leans forward, curious, "Who is it?" "Eddie." Chimney bemoans, "Thanked me for the birthday wishes along with a picture of his private cabana on the beach." Another new message comes in, "Enjoying the perks of being a sugar Diaz. I know you wish you were here." He reads aloud then throws his head with a loud groan of annoyance. And Hen just laughs. Its what Howard deserves.
Hope you enjoyed! If anyone wants to see more posts from NFL Buck just search under the nfl tag on my page. Happy very late Friday!
I'm still gong to try and tag: @911onabc, @911-on-abc, @hippolotamus, @thewolvesof1998, @monsterrae1, @thekristen999, @lizzybizzyzzz, @giddyupbuck, @exhuastedpigeon, @cowboydiazes, @cowboy-buddie, @brokenribsdiaz, @buck-coded, @rogerzsteven, @housewifebuck, @starlingbite, @loserdiaz, @princessfbi, @transbuck, @bekkachaos, @shortsighted-owl @devirnis @eddiediaztho @spaceprincessem @bvckandeddie @jeeyuns @forthewolves
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reluctanttrabbit Ā· 10 months ago
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since you have come to my aid with writing prompts so much in the past in my times of need I will try my best
gregory and vanessa gaming and squabbling with eachother
vanessa and Gregory going to get icecream on a little weekend trip. maybe something sad happened to them and it's their way of trying to feel better
Vanessa's moment of reclaiming her rainbow hair and how she works up the courage alongside Gregory and freddy
vanny gets reprimanded by glitchtrap/mimic for a small mistake and her and rab bicker over it like siblings "oooh ur in trouble" (or vice versa)
since you said you wanted to practice dialogue, maybe Gregory and vanessa texting eachother
a little bonding moment between 3 star fam recent to the end of sb while they're still getting to know each other
vanessa being called to Gregory's school for a meeting because he got into a fight/something else
good luck my mutual o7
OH MY GOD percy to the rescue :sob: i might do a few of these actually this is so helpful
long post ahead!! i enjoyed this so much
------------------------------------------------------------------------
3. The End of the Rainbow
A man and a dog walks by. Then a group of students. Then one person on a phone call.
"Okay, uhhh... try and find someone wearing a bunch of colors."
Vanessa, Gregory and Freddy ('s head) sit by their apartment's window, eyes scanning everyone that passes by. The last few raindrops on the window fall down as the sun shines on their faces like a hug.
"A bunch?" Gregory asks. "How much would a bunch be? Like two, or five colors, whats the limit here?"
Vanessa laughs. "Dude, I don't know! Let's say four. Four colors in one outfit."
Gregory nods diligently, treating this minigame like a quest. The odd little family had spent the day inside after nonstop hours of raining, and people-watching was their one of many ways of entertainment.
Gregory and Freddy fight for victory, while Vanessa's mind wanders off a bit. She starts to focus on the weather more than the people, as rain pours down its last bits of water. Her eyes fall on a specific part of the sky, where it looks.. blurry. She focuses more, now understanding shes looking at a rainbow. The colors are dull, but they're still there, trying their best to shine.
Something about that rainbow felt important to Vanessa.
She comes back to reality to find Gregory off of the couch and now spinning around with Freddy in his arms, like how parents spin their kids.
"Gregory, please be careful!" Freddys warns between laughter. If robots could get dizzy, Vanessa guessed Freddy would be by now.
Vanessa steals one more look of the rainbow and stands up, ruffling Gregory's hair and balancing him while making her way to her bedroom. Clothes and plushies are strewn across the floor, almost with no care. I definitely have to start cleaning up, she thinks. She walks down the path of fallen rabbits and lambs and old flannels to her bed and lets herself fall onto it.
It had only been two weeks after Gregory, Vanessa and Freddy had been freed from the pizzaplex. Years of her life had gone by, and some parts she cant even remember, all because of the virus. But on one hand, Vanessa was glad Gregory was in the same condition. He didn't deserve to remember it. To experience it. To know that he took a part in it.
Vanessa fiddles with her sweater sleeves before she gets right back up and rummages through her closet. An old photo album, something from her mother.
Vanessa looks fondly at pictures of baby her, then pictures of teen her and her friends, with some scenery. The last and most recent picture was of Vanessa and her coworkers at the old VR company she had worked for.
And she noticed something.
Young, 19-year old Vanessa with rainbow streaks in her curly hair.
"..Hey Greg, you wanna go to the store for a sec?"
--
"You used to dye your own hair?" Gregory asked, sitting on the bathtub watching as Vanessa puts a towel and gloves on.
"A lot, yeah. But I barely remembered that it was rainbow once, usually I just did... blue and pink, or something."
"That is a very unique fact, Ms. Vanessa!" Freddy remarked, cushioned on a towel on the floor.
"Really?" Vanessa chuckled.
"Uh, hell yeah. You didn't have to ask for permission or anything, you just did it. It's rad." Gregory piped back in.
Vanessa felt her smile grow bigger as she heard the boy. From what she remembered of her in-between memories (a name Vanessa and Gregory use for the things they can remember when they were under the virus' control) she knew Gregory was a runaway. She never inquired why out of respect, but she thought it was be related to his parents. After all, she did that herself.
"Do you wanna help, then?" she turned around. Gregory practically jumped up at the request, and started opening the packaging.
"I have no idea how to do this, so you're gonna have to guide me." Vanessa took the first few colors, and faltered for a second.
"That's, uh... me neither, actually. God, I forgot that much?"
"Hey, its okay. I'll just grab your phone and pull up a video." Gregory did his best to reassure Vanessa, and she was more than happy for that. Once Gregory left the room, she turned to the mirror and studied herself.
She remembered how the virus wouldn't let her keep her rainbow streaks, especially after that one IT guy told her he liked them. What was his name? She'd have to log back into her company email at some point, if she still even had access to it.
"Are you okay, Of- Vanessa?" Freddy asked. she nearly forgot the bear (head) was in the room with her.
"Yeah, yeah. Just thinking."
"..Would you like to think together?" Vanessa laughed at that. That was Freddy's way of asking if he could hear her thoughts and give her a solution. Vanessa sat down against the bathtub, adjusting herself.
"I'm not sure how to articulate it to you.." she sighs. "Ok. I feel kind of... scared to do this. There's no rational reason why, but I've been dying my hair ever since I was 14. I started because I wanted to rebel against my dad, I guess."
"He wouldn't let you do it?"
"In a way. He didn't approve of it, so of course I wanted to rub it in his face. But something about the rainbow streaks is different. It just is."
They sat in silence. Vanessa was never going to get over how awkward it was to talk to a robot.
"I believe.. it is because you were a different person then. This is before you were controlled, correct?"
Vanessa nods.
"I see. You were different before you got controlled, and you were able to do what you wanted. But when you got controlled, it scared you. It made you listen. And now that you are free, you are still used to feeling like you are controlled. And maybe the virus did not allow you to dye your hair, so you are scared to dye your hair in fear of punishment."
Vanessa cant help but let her jaw drop a bit.
"That was... really insightful, Freddy. How did you just explain PTSD??"
If the bear still had his body, Vanessa assumed he would have shrugged. "I am not sure what that is, but I trust that answered your question, yes?"
"More than enough, bud." She reflected on Freddy's words and smiled at him, waiting for Gregory,
--
The end credits to Rapunzel rolled as the three were cuddled up on the couch. Only a few lights were on, and everyone was doing their best to not doze off(or in Freddy's case, power off). Vanessa had her hair up in a towel, with her sweater visibly stained.
"One more movie?" she asked the room. Gregory hummed a yes, and Vanessa got up to the DVD player and sifted through her collection
"Alright, uh.. 'Beetlejuice'? Is that appropriate for you?" she questioned.
"I feel like I shouldn't be the one to answer that," Gregory said from across the room. "But if you put it on, I wouldn't complain."
Vanessa waited for the DVD player to eject the disc and set Beetlejuice in, getting up to crawl back into her spot on the couch. But her phone alarm went off.
"Oh, I can probably take this out now." she redirected to pick up her phone and went straight for the bathroom.
"I wanna see!' Gregory bolted up, before backtracking to take Freddy with him and following suit.
Everyone huddled around the mirror as Vanessa unraveled the towel and let her hair loose. The right side of her hair was a vibrant rainbow, with her hair still a bit wet, but Vanessa couldn't have been happier. Everyone was in awe of how the color turned out.
"Could you dye my hair blue?" Gregory whispered breathlessly, and Vanessa chuckled.
"We'll save that for tomorrow, squirt."
Gregory along with Freddy made his way back into the living room as Vanessa lagged behind for a bit.
In that moment, it hit her that she was finally free from the virus. From the virus, and from her dad. She now has her own place, with her own family, and shes her own person again.
She liked to think that dying her hair was now a middle finger to both of them. Being free in general was a middle finger to both of them.
And slowly but surely, she was recovering.
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4. Get Out of My Room
Maybe something in Vanny had wanted to let that kid go. She saw herself in their terrified eyes, and how they wanted to be free. Maybe Vanessa had gotten through to her somehow. But none of it mattered, because now she was getting a lecture full of technical nonsense.
"Task failed. Goal not achieved. Goal: bring [ENDOSKELETON] to [MIMIC_01]. [MIMIC_01] breaks off limbs and heads."
Vanny rolled her eyes. She zoned out and paid no attention to the Malhare, waiting for it to stop talking. She was good at waiting. Its all she seemed to do. Wait for commands. Follow through, no matter the command.
"Do you understand, [VANNY]?" the glitching rabbit now turned to Vanny, floating closer and closer until she couldn't take it.
"..Yes."
"Don't let anyone or anything lead you astray. Again."
Vanny couldn't help but snort at the 'again' bit. She recomposed herself. "Yes."
"Good. Rest."
Vanny practically burst out of the ruins of that old pizzeria, pulling that horrid mask off and wanting more than anything to get back into her- Vanessa's office. Their only sanctuary.
But of course, she couldn't have what she wanted.
"What happened in there?" Dr. Rabbit, her coworker asked. Funny enough, her coworker was a 12-year old kid, out of his suit and only wearing a blue Bonnie mask.
"None of your business." Vanny retorted.
"What, did you get grounded or something?"
"No, I won a vacation, actually. So I'll never have to see you again."
"Vacations aren't endless, stupid."
"Oh my god, shut up.." she growled as the kid followed her up to the elevator.
They piled into the unstable excuse for an elevator, and sat in silence as the pizzaplex's distorted theme played.
"Once we change, or once you change, can we grab some pizza?" Rab asked his partner.
"..You're paying." Vanny leaned against the railing.
"No fair, this kid is homeless! And the pizza here is always like $20!" Rab protested.
"That hasn't stopped you yet, has it?"
"Well geez, have some pity."
Vanny chuckled as they reached the top, making sure to step over the debris and rubble. A few feet behind her, she heard Rab shriek and hit the ground.
"Oh my god, are you-" she caught herself. Don't offer help. Remember.
"...I'm fine." he winced.
"You are very obviously not fine." she lent out her hand. It was a few seconds before Rab took it.
"Are you good? Can you walk?"
"Um.. I don't know." he shifted. Maybe it was too awkward for them to be nice to eachother, as odd as that sounded.
"Forget about it, I'll pay for the pizza." Vanny supported Rab as they traveled up the stairs to the empty Roxy Raceway
"Well, I was gonna make you one way or another." Rab muttered.
They both laughed. Maybe they didn't have to be best buddies, but they could be allies. They were both stuck in the same boat.
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7. (idk what to name this one im tired. update later maybe)
Vanessa tapped the steering wheel over and over and she waited at the red light. Just a few minutes ago, she had gotten a call to come to Gregory's school. She didn't know what to expect. Did he get hurt? Did he hurt some other kid? Was he skipping? The anxiety was eating at her.
Freddy sat politely in the passenger's seat right next to Vanessa, with the seat belt tight on him.
"I am sure it has nothing to do with his grades, Vanessa. He is a smart kid."
"I know Fred, that's the problem. If its not about his grades he could be hurt or something." She turned left down the street where his school was, with the sidewalks full of students coming back from lunch.
"Ok, for.. obvious reasons, you're staying in here. I'll update you as soon as I can, okay?" She told the bear as she settled into a parking spot and closed the door. Her heart was racing at this point.
Vanessa stepped into the school, looking around for the office as groups of preteens walking by gave her weird looks. She looked at a wall with a window and saw chocolate brown hair that she'd recognize anywhere. She strolled over and knocked on the office door, to be greeted by a secretary or a principal; Vanessa wasn't sure.
"Hello, Vanessa." the man greeted her. "I'm Mr. Raglan, nice to meet you." Vanessa shook hands with Mr. Raglan and nodded.
"You too, uhh... so what was the problem? Is Gregory ok?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound like she was on the verge of a panic attack. She was.
"Oh, well the problem.. Let's take a seat."
Vanessa looked to her right and lo and behold, Gregory was sitting balled up in his chair, like a stray dog flinching at a human's touch. His best friend Cassie was sitting in the chair beside him, looking embarrassed to have her first impression to Vanessa be in the school's office. The two kids beside them in their chairs had recently been crying, one of them with an ice pack. Their parents glared at Vanessa, and she immediately looked away.
What the hell did Gregory do?
--
"I'm sure if we like.. posted about it, they'd reach out to us. Right?" Cassie laid out on the grass of the school's playground.
Gregory laid parallel to her. He admired how she thought it would be this easy to find his friends. It had been a year since Gregory broke free of the virus, and learned about his old friend group. Tony(who also happened to be one of the missing kids), Ellis, and Amelia. He learned from Cassie that Amelia goes to a different school, and Ellis and his family had moved entirely. Gregory had lost hope in Tony a long time ago. But theres a part of him that wants to believe he made it out, somehow. Maybe Rab let him go? Gregory wouldn't remember.
"I don't even know if they'd want anything to do with me anymore. To be honest, I always thought Amelia hated me."
"What? No, you guys got along so well! You two are the exact same person. I'm sure of it."
Gregory snickered at that.
"And I'm sure that they're also worried about you. I mean.. I dont know if you'd remember it, but Ellis was a mess when he heard about Tony. He was even worse when he heard about you."
Gregory teared up a bit, considering his options.
"..Yeah, we should try and find them. Where would we post it?"
"Snapchat or Tiktok, I dunno." Cassie remarked. "I still have their accounts."
Suddenly, they felt two shadows over them. A couple of eighth graders; Gregory couldn't remember their names.
"Hey guys, what are we talking about?" the girl asked. Violet, or Vivian.
Crap. Gregory blanked.
"Comics. We're, uh.. gonna make one."
The boy, Mark, snorted. "What, like Captain Underpants? You guys think you're George and Harold?"
"Captain Underpants was kinda good." Cassie muttered.
"That's fair. Y'know, you should make a comic about how Gregory went missing. And with that other kid.. what was his name? Terry?" Mark asked.
Gregory took a deep breath.
"Hey, shut up maybe?" Cassie told the duo, now standing up to block herself between them and Gregory.
"Yeah, like actually don't say that," Violet whispered to her friend.
"Dude, its fine, Greg came back! But the other one didn't.. awww."
Cassie took Gregory by his hand and stormed off. Gregory couldn't be more grateful for her. He was on the verge of crying until he felt his feet go up and his face hit the grass.
"Holy sh-"
Gregory bounced right back up, visibly in pain, but shoved Mark back. He stumbled, but laughed at the push.
"God, at least hit me like a guy."
And with that, Gregory practically threw himself at the kid who was older and bigger than him. But he didn't care about the odds. He was in danger, and he chose fight instead of flight. Students crowded around as Gregory started to zone out and not focus on his actions, and how much his body hurt, but just act. He was pulled apart by Cassie and Violet, with Gregory now noticing the crowd; some watching in shock and some instigating the fight. A teacher emerged through the crowd and pulled them apart like they were small dogs fighting over food.
Gregory didn't care that everyone was watching. He didn't care that the teacher was mad. But what he did care about, is that the principal would definitely call Vanessa.
--
"Is there anything you want to say, Gregory?" Mr. Raglan asked. Vanessa watched as her kid, the kid who just explained his side of the story and how he was attacked, had to apologize.
"..I'm sorry for what I did. It was irrational, and I only furthered the problem." Gregory said in tears. Cassie sat silently as her uncle stood behind her, who had arrived a few minutes after Vanessa.
"Its okay. I'm sorry for starting it." Mark replied dryly.
"..And I'm sorry for taking part in it." Violet admitted, staring at the ceiling.
The principal turned to face Cassie.
"Um.. I'm sorry for saying shut up." Cassie said to Mark, although unsure why she had to apologize.
Some tension had been lifted from the room. Not all tension, but some. Vanessa texted Freddy, telling him they'd be done in a few minutes. Vanessa and Gregory were asked to stay behind.
"Now Vanessa, what punishment do you think would be best suited for Gregory?"
Vanessa blanked.
"Uhh... Detention tomorrow, I'll excuse him for the rest of the day."
Mr. Raglan nodded and excused them. The two awkwardly left the school, avoiding everyone else and made their way to the car. Vanessa moved Freddy to the back seat letting Gregory sit in the front. They sat in silence for a bit.
"...Do you want some Wendy's?"
"Oh my god, yes please."
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THAT WAS SO FUN omg ok sleepy time. thank you percy puhpandas,,, maybe i'll take a crack at these other ones later but this is good enough for now
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wavypotatochips Ā· 2 years ago
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omg omg omg i love ur sergios work <33
can i make a request? its my first time requesting something so i dont know if im doing it right but maybe reader being jealous when sergio spends all of his free time with his bf instead of reader but just because sergio wanted to surprise her with like her dream travel so heā€™s been planning it with his bf? can u make it angsty in the beginning and fluffy towards the end please? thank u if u will accept this<333
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GIF byĀ sergio-para-siempre
š˜—š˜¢š˜Ŗš˜³š˜Ŗš˜Æš˜Øš˜“: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader
Word Count : 2.1k
š˜ˆš˜¶š˜µš˜©š˜°š˜³š˜“ š˜•š˜°š˜µš˜¦: My allergies have been terrible this week, and I've been sneezing so much that I've been getting headaches, so instead of writing 3-4 request , I was only able to write 2 this week c': hopefully my writing is still good c': ANYWAYSSSS Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ĖšŹšā™”ɞĖš!!
(ć£ā—”ā—”ā—”)ć£ ā™„ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads will mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience cā€™: ā™„
You had been dating Sergio for almost two years now, and things had been going great until recently.
You've been feeling left out and ignored by your boyfriend, Sergio, for weeks now. He's been spending more time with his best friend, Marcos, than with you. Every time you try to make plans with him, he either cancels or tells you he's busy with Marcos. You can't help but feel jealous and wonder what's going on between them.
One day, you decide to confront Sergio about it. You call him on the phone and say, "Sergio, we need to talk. I feel like you've been avoiding me for weeks. What's going on?"
Sergio sighs and says, "I'm sorry, babe. I've been busy with futebol and hanging out with Marcos. He's been going through a tough time, and I want to be there for him." He hates having to lie to you right now, but he wants this surprise to be perfect forĀ  you. His best friend, Marcos, has been assisting Sergio with organizing a week-long vacation surprise for you, which is why they have been hanging out a lot.
You feel your heart sink at his words. You understand that Marcos is going through a tough time, but it hurts to know that Sergio is spending more time with him than with you.
"Can't you make time for me too?" you ask, your voice quivering.
Sergio hesitates before replying, "I'll try, but I can't make any promises. Marcos needs me right now."
You hang up the phone feeling frustrated and hurt. You decide to give Sergio some space and see if he comes around.
Days turn into weeks, and Sergio continues to spend all his time with Marcos. You try to be patient and understanding, but it's hard not to feel jealous and neglected.
One evening as you check through your social media page, you come across a picture that Marcos shared of a boardwalk and crystal-clear water. In Marco's story, you can see that he appears to be in a tropical location, and in the bottom-right corner of the screen, you can see Sergio's tattooed arm. When Marcos posted the image, he must not have noticed Sergio's arm was there.
Ā Your heart sinks as you realize that Sergio has been keeping a secret from you.Ā  You believe he's been planning a trip with Marcos, and you weren't invited. You assumed he was leaving for a Paris-Saint-Germain away match, NOT going out with Marcos once more.
Feeling hurt and angry, you call Sergio and demand an explanation. "Why didn't you tell me about the trip with Marcos? Why wasn't I invited?"
Sergio hesitates before saying, "I'm sorry, babe. Marcos and I have been planning this for months, and I didn't want to ruin it by telling you." Sergio believed that by speaking the flimsy truth, he would feel better. Of course, Sergio and Marcos have been preparing this vacation for months, but it is not for him and his best friend; it is for you and Sergio. They are at a resort so Sergio can check out the priciest water huts in person to ensure that it will be in top condition for you two.
You feel a lump form in your throat as you try to hold back tears. "So you're saying that Marcos is more important than me? That you'd rather spend time with him than me?"
Sergio's voice grows defensive as he says, "No, of course not. "
"What about me, then? Don't I deserve to feel special too?" you say, feeling your frustration boiling over.
Sergio sighs heavily, the line remains silent.
You shake your head and say, "I don't know, Sergio. I feel like you've been neglecting our relationship lately. I don't feel like a priority to you."
Sergio's voice grows softer as he says, "I'm sorry, babe. That's not it at all.. I promise all of this will make sense soon, okay?"
You feel your heart soften at his words, but you can't shake off the hurt and jealousy you've been feeling. "I don't know, Sergio. I just need some time to think."
Sergio sighs again and says, "Okay, I understand. Iā€™ll be back home in two days, forreal this time. Then we can talk, ok?ā€
You say "mhm" in response and end the call without caring if it was petty or not. Of course you love your boyfriend, but lately he's been acting in ways that aren't quite to your taste. He generally clings to you and wants to be with you all the time, but during the past few weeks, you have only seen each other twice, which is very out of the ordinary.
Now, two days later, Sergio is finally back home. You're sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you hear the front door open. You look up to see Sergio walking into the room, looking tired but happy to see you.
"Hey," he says, walking over to give you a hug.
"Hey," you reply, hugging him back. "How was your trip?"
"It was good," he says, pulling away from you. "Marcos and I saw some really nice things."
You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he mentions Marcos, but you push it aside and try to focus on the conversation.
"That's good," you say. "I'm glad you had a good time."
Sergio looks at you for a moment, as if trying to read your expression. Finally, he speaks.
"Listen, I know we had a bit of an argument the other day," he says. "And I wanted to explain why I've been distant lately."
"Okay," you say, feeling your heart rate speed up a bit.
"It's not because I'm upset with you or anything like that," he says. "It's just that I've been planning something for us."
"Planning something?" you ask, feeling confused.
"Yeah," he says, sitting down next to you on the couch. "Marcos and I have been planning a week-long getaway for us."
"A getaway?" you repeat, feeling your eyes widen in surprise.
"Yeah," Sergio says, smiling. "I wanted to do something special for us, and Marcos has been helping me plan it."
You sit there for a moment, feeling a bit dumbfounded. You hadn't expected this at all. Knowing what he's been up to makes you feel terrible about how you've been treating him. You wish you could take those stinging accusationsā€”along with the caustic attitude that accompanied themā€” when you practically said he didn't care about you anymore and you felt as though the love was no longer there. You know that you've probably hurt him, and you're filled with regret.
"I...I don't know what to say," you finally manage to say.
"I know we've been going through a rough patch lately because of how busy futebol has been," Sergio says. "And I wanted to do something to show you how much I love you and how much you mean to me."
You look over at him, feeling a lump form in your throat. Despite your earlier anger and frustration, you can't help but feel touched by his words. You're grateful that Sergio is forgiving and understanding. He knows that you're not perfect and that you make mistakes. He loves you despite your flaws, and that gives you hope that things will be okay.
"I...I don't know what to say," you say again, feeling a bit emotional. "That's...that's really sweet of you,ā€ you can't help but feel a sense of joy bubbling up inside you. You had no idea that he was planning something so special for the two of you, and it's clear that he put a lot of thought and effort into making it happen.Ā 
"I'm so sorry that I was acting bitchy towards you. Now everything does make sense," you say, giving him a small smile. "I can't believe you did all this for us."
Sergio grins back at you, looking pleased with himself. "I wanted to do something special for you, mi amor," he says. "Something that would remind us of why we fell in love in the first place."
You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest.Ā 
"So, where are we going?" you ask, feeling a bit of excitement building up inside you.
As he moves closer to you on the couch so you can see his phone screen as well, Sergio takes his phone out of his pocket.
"It's a surprise," he says, grinning at you. "But I'll give you a hint. It involves sun, sand, and lots of relaxation."
You raise your eyebrows, feeling your heart start to race. You still can't believe that Sergio has planned a trip for the two of you, and you can't wait to find out more.
As you watch, Sergio pulls up a page with pictures of a stunning beach resort, complete with crystal clear water, palm trees, and luxurious villas.
"Say hello to our little slice of paradise," he says, pointing to the screen. "We're going to be staying here for a week."
You stare at the pictures, feeling a sense of awe wash over you. "Sergio, this is incredible," you say, turning to him with a huge grin on your face. "I can't believe you did all this for meā€¦.. For us!"
Sergio grins back at you, looking pleased with himself. "I wanted to do something special for you, mi amor," he says. "And I wanted to remind you how much I love you."
You feel a warmth spreading through your chest, and you can't help but lean in to give him a kiss.
"I love you too, Sergio," you say, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment wash over you. "But do me a favor," you begin to say, drawing his full attention back to you, "If you ever ignore me again, I'm going to strangle you." He chuckles at your joke before swiftly embracing you and kissing you on the forehead, saying, "I'll never do it again, princess, I promise."
As the days pass, you and Sergio spend your time lounging on the beach, sipping cocktails, and exploring the island. You take long walks along the shore, hand in hand, watching the sun set over the water. You have deep, meaningful conversations about your hopes and dreams for the future, and you laugh and play like you haven't in ages. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you're able to relax and just enjoy each other's company without any distractions or stresses. As your week comes to a close, you and Sergio sit on your balcony, watching the stars twinkle overhead. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment and joy wash over you.
"Sergio, thank you for this week," you say, feeling a bit emotional. "It's been incredible." Sergio turns to look at you, his eyes soft. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, mi amor," he says. "I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, and how committed I am to making our relationship work." You nod, feeling a sense of gratitude and happiness. "You know, Sergio, I never doubted your love for me," you say, looking up at him. "But this week has shown me just how much you're willing to do for us. And it means the world to me." Sergio leans in and brushes his lips against yours, sending shivers down your spine. "I would do anything for you, mi amor," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy." You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion. You know that things won't always be easy between the two of you, but this moment feels like a turning point. Like you can get through anything as long as you have each other.
As you lean into Sergio's embrace, you feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. You know that this week has been just the beginning of a lifetime of love, adventure, and happiness together.
"I love you, Sergio," you say, looking up at him with a soft smile.
"I love you too, mi amor," he says, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. "Thank you for giving me the chance to show you just how much."
You snuggle into his arms, feeling a sense of happiness and hope for the future. You know that there will be challenges along the way, but with Sergio by your side, you feel like you can conquer anything.
As the night wears on, you and Sergio talk and laugh, sharing stories and dreams for the future. And as you fall asleep in each other's arms, you know that this week will be one that you'll never forget. A week of love, laughter, and adventure. A week that brought you closer together than ever before.
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cherrykindness Ā· 4 years ago
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let's make babies |
pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader
summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.
warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know šŸ¤Ŗ
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"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."
Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancƩe's statement.
"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."
The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.
As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancƩe and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.
"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."
Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancƩ's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.
"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancƩ's waist.
"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."
It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.
"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."
"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."
"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancƩ weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."
"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."
Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.
The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.
The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.
"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."
"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."
"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."
"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"
Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."
"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."
"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."
"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."
"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."
It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.
"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."
Harry laughed, holding his fiancƩe's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.
"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"
"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"
"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.
Even though Harry knew that his fiancƩe was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.
She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.
He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.
"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancƩ would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."
The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.
"Are you jealous?"
"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."
"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.
"But I only think about you, I already told you that."
Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancƩe.
"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."
The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancƩe's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.
"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"
That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.
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lgg5989 Ā· 2 years ago
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Church Encounters Chapter 12
Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of this fic, @barbiewritesstuff and I are having a great time writing it. She is posting this on her tumblr as well so jump over and give her a like or a comment. We have had a few requests for side drabbles and stuff about these characters and we will be happy to answer them! Just send us asks :) To all of our US friends, have a safe Labor Day weekend!Ā 
You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist, and you can read the whole series so far on my Ao3! I made the moodboard, I hope you enjoy it! :D
Comment on my post or @barbiewritesstuffā€™s post to be added to the tag list.
PS. If Glen is reading this, do you like it so far?
Tagging: @roosterscock Ā @sydneyhloveā€‹
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Indiana was surprisingly jungley when you arrived, hot and humid and crawling with so many bugs that it almost felt overwhelming. Still, it was good to be home. You were taking everything in from the sights to the smell of the bakery down the road from where you used to live. The town you grew up in wasn't much, but it was home. Cloverdale was just big enough to have a McDonalds and it was no San Diego, but it held a special place in your heart.Ā 
You took over the drive as soon as you passed the border between Indiana and Illinois to give Jake some time to sleep. Between training and the promotion Jake had gotten a few months ago, which came with a new set of duties and longer, more gruelling hours, it felt like he was perpetually running on four hours of sleep, and while he tried his best to hide it from you it was taking a toll on him.
He had been more scatter-brained and crabby. Never with you, but the rest of the team had received more than their fair share of jabs and offensive quips. You knew Jake well enough to mean that he was bracing himself for something, and although you couldnā€™t tell what, you wouldnā€™t have been surprised if burn out had started rearing its ugly head.Ā 
When Jake had offered to go on a road trip with you across the US, to see everything you had discussed at Thanksgiving, you had eagerly agreed. Time off would do him some good, and you never refused an opportunity to see your sisters on their home turf.
Still, before Indiana there had been a few other stops. Salvation Mountain in San Diego, where Jake had taken many pictures of you, arms outstretched in front of the ā€œGOD IS LOVEā€ painted in large red and pink letters on the hill. Then, the Joshua Tree National Park in California, where you hiked on the ā€˜California Riding and Hiking Trailā€, completing the hike in four days, ignoring all warnings against sun exposures, temperatures and dehydration after a lengthy conversation and a mutual understanding that neither of you was likely to be able to clear enough time off to do the trails any other time of year.Ā 
After the suicide-mission of a hike, you and Jake had booked yourselves a weekend in a spa, to be able to relax the soreness away. The two days of taking things easy, yoga classes and massages had made Jake a new man. With a brand new chilled-out attitude, Jake had taken the next leg of the trip.
He parked the car in front of the Daily Grind Coffee shop where the two of you had lunch before making your way to the Billy The Kid museum. Jake could only smile at your excitement as you entered the building. Over the few months he had had the honour of dating you, Jake had discovered how much of a true crime buff you really were. You watched and listened to everything. From documentaries watched like a bedtime story to podcasts while you cleaned. From ancient history to stuff a little closer to home, you liked everything. Even now, as you looked at the original wanted posters, the locks of hair, chaps, spurs and his rifle, you almost couldnā€™t help talking Jakeā€™s ear off about the outlaw. Jake didnā€™t mind though, your excitement was contagious and when you took over the next leg of the trip, Jake read Billy The Kidā€™s biography as you drove.Ā 
The Water Zoo Indoor Water Park had been the only notable exception in your opinion that any and all amusement parks were terrible. It had been Jakeā€™s idea to go, but as the stay came to an end, you begged to stay just one more day, Jake couldnā€™t refuse, even if he was desperate to get to Indiana.
After Oklahoma, despite the detour, came Indiana. As you drove through corn and soy fields, Jake fell asleep, resting his head against the window. You smiled as you glanced at him, taking your eyes off of the road for a moment to admire his sleeping form. He looked ever so peaceful.
You were an hour away from your destination when his lips twitched and he mumbled something.
ā€œWhat was that honey?ā€ you asked
ā€œCake,ā€ he replies, ā€œThereā€™s cakes in the display.ā€
You looked around, thinking that maybe Jake was seeing something in the distance. There seemed to be nothing for miles, except crops and the occasional lonely cow. He mumbled something else, in a deep, sleepy voice. You realised then that Jake was a sleep talker. The thought of it gave you butterflies, or doubled them at least, because the butterflies Jake gave you on your first meeting never actually went away.Ā 
ā€œCakes huh?ā€ you asked with a slight giggle
ā€œBig pink ones,ā€ he mumbled, ā€œBig as a house.ā€
He groaned in his sleep and you stifled a laugh, ā€œCan you eat them?ā€ you askedĀ 
He gasped, ā€œNoooo, itā€™s for the queen!ā€ he whispered, as if the queen, whoever she was, had been in the car with you.
You tried to interrogate him some more, but Jake wasnā€™t feeling chatty after that. His arms occasionally twitched and you wondered if he was at a banquet, sharing tea with the royals. The thought of it alone almost sent you in hysterics a few times but after being almost run off the road a few times due to your inattention, you calmed down and drove on till you hit your destination.
Your motherā€™s home was a long white affair, standing alone, looming over the neighbourhood like heron surveilling a pond for any moving fish. It had always seemed sinister to you, although perhaps that was due to memories, or even nerves. If you had to be objective about it, the house looked rather welcoming. The front garden was neat, lined with white rose bushes and pink rhododendrons. The grass was cut short and the hedges had all been trimmed to waist height. The drive had been redone since you had last been there, the concrete had been removed and replaced by sand-coloured gravel.Ā 
You knocked on the door, feeling apprehensive. Your mother had remarried since you had left for the navy. Ted, her new husband, was a local politician. He was a nice enough man, the type that placed far too much importance on being able to give a good handshake, but ultimately harmless. He did come with two children, a boy and a girl, twelve and ten year old. When he opened the door for you and Jake to come in, he wore a beige polo shirt, sleeveless jumper and slacks. The children had been made to wear a navy coloured short or skirt and a white button up.Ā 
The star difference in behaviour between how your mother used to act with you and how she acted now made you feel a little sick. She hugged and kissed her step children all the while glaring at you as you spoke. Jake, ever the perfect gentleman, tried to make pleasant conversations, but whenever your mother ignored anything you said, his hand twitched ever so slightly in yours.Ā 
After an agonising two hours of small talk and watching your mother act like, well, a mother, you jumped back into Jakeā€™s truck and drove the both of you to Annieā€™s apartment. She lived in Fishers, right next to the nursery she worked at, in one of the newer blocks of flats. She buzzed you in, and let you ring the doorbell before opening the door and embracing you in a breathtaking hug.Ā 
ā€œI see youā€™re working on your patience, Iā€™m proud of you,ā€ you teased, ā€œUsually I donā€™t even get to ring the doorbell.ā€Ā 
ā€œOh, Iā€™m sorry. I wasnā€™t aware that being excited to see my sister was such a crime,ā€ she said, pretending to be offended. Annie turned around, gently whipping you in the face with her long hair, ā€œMaybe I should ignore you next time,ā€ she added.
ā€œPlease donā€™t, Iā€™ve had enough of that today already,ā€ you replied.
Annie grimaced, ā€œDid you see mom?ā€
ā€œYeah. Why do I do it? I always regret visiting.ā€ you asked, Annie shrugged her shoulders.Ā 
ā€œI stopped going a while ago,ā€ she admitted, ā€œBut enough about the doom and gloom! Jake, congrats on the promotion!ā€ Annie exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands together, ā€œWe should celebrate! Audrey is coming later, and we were thinking of having drinks this evening at one of the new bars in town, how does that sound?ā€ she asked
Audrey had been meant to meet you at Annieā€™s but an hour before she was due to arrive, she called in a panic.
ā€œI am so sorry! Thereā€™s been a mix up in the shifts and the girl whoā€™s supposed to take over lives like two hours away. I canā€™t leave, Iā€™m the only senior midwife on call, Iā€™ll just have to meet you all at the bar,ā€ she said, speaking loudly over the background noises of the hospital maternity ward.Ā 
With that, you had all showered and changed and piled into Annieā€™s car to drive downtown. The bar was a far cry from the cosiness and familiarity of the Hard Deck back in San Diego, and heaps busier too. While both you and Jake were fairly used to people and certainly able to elbow your way through to a set of empty chairs, the way he had tensed up and recoiled at the sight of the crowd made you suggest going for outside seating.
Audrey arrived twenty minutes later, clearly having jumped out of the shower and quickly changed out of her scrubs. On any normal occurrence, your sister would never have been caught dead wearing a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt, accessorised only with a leather jacket and a pair of pointed ballerina flats. Audrey was a stylish woman that made anything she wore look wonderful, but her usual style leaned more towards vintage dresses and heels.
ā€œI cannot begin to describe the day Iā€™ve had,ā€ she huffed as she dropped down on the chair next to you.
ā€œThat bad?ā€ you asked, your sister threw you a look.
ā€œYes. That bad. I woke up late, I couldnā€™t find my scrubs and the only other set I had were dirty. Then, the washing machine broke, then, the coffee machine broke. I got to work twenty minutes late, had to borrow a set of scrubs off of a trainee and I finished three hours late!ā€ she replied, ā€œI need a drink,ā€ she added, grabbing the drinks menu and looking at the list.Ā 
ā€œI think Iā€™ll have a martini,ā€ Annie said.
ā€œI think I know what you want,ā€ Jake told you, ā€œAudrey, whatā€™s your pick? Iā€™ll go and order,ā€ he added, looking apprehensively at the bar, trying to calculate his best course of action to get served quickly.Ā 
ā€œOh donā€™t worry Jake, Y/N and Audrey will go together,ā€ Annie replied. Audrey whipped her head to look at her sister with a deadly glare. Annie looked her in the eyes for a moment. After their silent argument, Audrey stood up.
ā€œRight, come on Y/n, letā€™s get this over with,ā€ Audrey sighed, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of your chair.
----
ā€œJake, relax,ā€ Annie laughed once you and Audrey had successfully forced your way to the front of the drinkā€™s queue.
ā€œThis feels like a drug deal,ā€ he replied with a nervous laugh. Annie reached into her bag to retrieve a small ring box. The red velvet fabric felt soft against his hands. He opened it slightly to reveal the ring. The centerstone was a crystal clear oval shaped diamond. It was set into a yellow gold band and accented with other, smaller diamonds around it. The ring was thin and delicate, and the whole thing reminded him of you. Classy and delicate, always in style. Jake could see the faint marks the jeweller had left when he resized the ring and a little doubt crept into his mind.Ā 
ā€œAre you sure sheā€™ll like it?ā€ he asked.
Annie stared at him, ā€œAre you doubting my grandmotherā€™s taste in rings?ā€ she asked, outraged.
ā€œNo, no. Iā€™m -- Annie, Iā€™m fucking scared. What if she says no?ā€ Jake whispered.Ā 
Despite your many reminders that you would happily agree to marry him when he asked, Jake still felt a little stab of paranoia at the thought that maybe you had changed your mind. Since leaving his flat on the first day of the trip, Jake had been in a near constant state of nervous anticipation and blind panic at the fact you might refuse him. Still, he felt like he was hiding it well, and after the spa weekend, he had legitimately felt better until you had driven over the Indiana border and it came back in full force.Ā 
ā€œThen, Iā€™ll knock her on the head until it unscrambles her brain,ā€ she deadpanned, bringing a small smile to his face. She continued, ā€œShe wonā€™t say no. Trust me, Iā€™ve seen the way she looks at you.ā€
ā€œDrinks incoming!ā€ Audrey exclaimed as she made her way out of the bar, no doubt to give him time to stash it somewhere safe. He put it in his jacket pocket, careful to zip it up before you noticed anything.Ā 
ā€œYou okay?ā€ you asked Jake, he shot you a nervous smile right as a large group of half drunk college students passed your table, ā€œItā€™s alright, itā€™ll be quieter soon,ā€ you added, rubbing his arm reassuringly. Strange, you thought, you had never known Jake to be so antsy in a crowd.Ā 
-----
Jake was nervous. He had only had the ring in his possession for seventy-two hours and he was already a nervous wreck. As he was getting dressed for mass that morning, he kept checking his pocket, like the ring box was going to disappear into thin air.Ā 
His father asked him what was wrong on the way to mass, and Jake tried to brush it off, but it didnā€™t feel very convincing. He was practically vibrating in the passenger seat and when they made it into the church, it didnā€™t get much better.Ā 
Jakeā€™s knees were bouncing in the pew, and you had to place your hand on them several times to silently signal him to stop. When it was time to say the Our Father and share peace with one another, Jake could tell that his palm was sweaty in yours, and he prayed to God that it wouldnā€™t bother you. When he pressed a kiss to your cheek, you looked up at him concerned, ā€œYou okay?ā€
ā€œPeachy mia cara, just peachy,ā€ he said back, his accent laced stronger than usual in his voice.Ā 
Raising an eyebrow at him, you turned back to face the altar. When mass was over, Jake tried to take a deep breath, but it was no use. His excitement and nervousness would be there to stay until he asked you the question he had been thinking about for months.Ā 
As his family filed out of the pew and down the main aisle towards the door, he grabbed your hand and held you there, ā€œCan I talk to you for a minute?ā€ he asked.Ā 
ā€œOf course, are you going to tell me whatā€™s wrong?ā€ you asked him, raising an eyebrow sternly.Ā 
ā€œIn a way,ā€ he said, pulling you around the front of the pew to stand in front of the steps to the altar.Ā 
The choir hadnā€™t stopped singing, even though the church was emptying out quickly, and you looked at them confused. One of the girls in the second row winked at you, turning to look at Jake, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth, tears springing to your eyes.Ā 
He was settled down on one knee, a red velvet ring box clutched tightly in one hand. Looking up at you with an unreadable expression, he said, ā€œI know that we havenā€™t been together as long as most other couples who get married, but I love you and I think that God sent you down to me. I canā€™t imagine my life without you, your little habits like how you always pepper your food, or that you like your water without ice, but also the bigger things, like how you go out of your way to take care of me, when I know you donā€™t have to. I want to be there every morning to wake up to your beautiful sleepy face, and every night to give you a kiss before we go to sleep,ā€ Jake paused, trying to compose himself, a few tears now visible in his own eyes.Ā 
ā€œI almost lost you that day on the tarmac and it scared me more than anything ever had before. I knew that day that I was going to marry you and now I canā€™t wait for it to be true. I donā€™t want to rush into this, but I love you, and I wonā€™t be truly happy until youā€™re mine. Please, Y/n, do me the honour of becoming your husband, to love you and cherish you forever,ā€ he finished, his voice choking off at the end.Ā 
You let out a small sob, ā€œOf course, yes, a million times yes,ā€ you said, kneeling down in front of him and pulling him into a hug. You felt the collar of your shirt dampen with a few of Jakeā€™s tears but when you pulled back, the look on his face was worth more to you than anything money could buy. You had never seen him so happy.Ā 
The grin that was splitting your face couldnā€™t have been wiped off if you tried, looking at the ring in his hand, you let out a gasp, ā€œYou didnā€™t.ā€Ā 
ā€œI did,ā€ he said, ā€œThey said that she would have wanted you to have it.ā€Ā 
ā€œIs that why we went to Indiana?ā€ you asked, searching his eyes.Ā 
ā€œWell, I had to see where the woman I wanted to marry was from, but mostly, I couldnā€™t propose without the right ring,ā€ Jake said, sheepishly.Ā 
Pulling the ring from the box, he slid it on to your finger, it was a perfect fit, ā€œHowā€¦?ā€
ā€œI had some help with that too,ā€ Jake said, smiling at you. Leaning in close he continued, ā€œTheyā€™ll be here this afternoon. Also I took the liberty of calling a certain Admiral.ā€Ā 
Your heart soared that your sisters and your father figure would get to celebrate with your new family. Pulling Jake into another hug, the only thing you could think to say was, ā€œI love you.ā€Ā 
He responded in kind, ā€œI love you too.ā€Ā 
The two of you stood up, and Jake thanked the choir for staying a little over.
ā€œWhy here? Why in the church?ā€ you asked, as the two of you were walking out.Ā 
Jake laughed, ā€œWell it just felt right, God brought you to me, and you met me, the real me, in a church. Why not propose in one too?ā€
Clutching his arm in yours, you let Jake escort you to the truck. He opened the door for you and gave you a hand to help you climb in. Before he went around to his side of the truck, he took your left hand in his, pressing a kiss to the ring that was still cool on your skin. With a smile and a little jog, he made his way around the truck. The whole ride back to the ranch was spent talking about plans for the future, from the date of the wedding to what you were going to name your first born, and you couldnā€™t have been happier.Ā 
----
When you arrived back at the Seresin ranch, the rest of the family was already there for their usual Sunday brunch, you hesitated before getting out of the truck. Jake looked at you curiously, ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€Ā 
ā€œHow do we tell them?ā€ you asked, a grin on your face.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll let you decide, baby,ā€ Jake said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.Ā 
You hummed, ā€œLetā€™s just see who notices first, shall we?ā€
Jake laughed, ā€œYou are such a shit stirrer,ā€ he said.Ā 
ā€œYes, but Iā€™m your shit stirrer,ā€ you bit back, the smile that was stuck to your face never leaving.Ā 
Jake opened the front door for you and the two of you were immediately accosted by Gio, ā€œHowā€™d itā€“ā€ he let out a surprised grunt as Jake clasped a hand over his mouth and dragged him out the front door.Ā 
You laughed, closing the door behind them as you made your way further into the house.Ā 
ā€”
Jake pulled his hand away from his brotherā€™s mouth, the two might have been grown men, but they still fought like children, ā€œJohn, thatā€™s gross,ā€ he said, wiping his hand off on his jeans, ā€œYou are like forty-three grow up.ā€Ā 
ā€œI am your brother, if you put your hand over my mouth, I am going to lick it,ā€ he said in a defensive tone, ā€œHowā€™d it go? Did she say yes? Did she cry? Did you cry?ā€
Jake laughed, putting his hands on his head and walking off the porch. He turned back to his brother and shouted, not caring if they heard inside, ā€œShe said yes!ā€ but then immediately lowering his voice, ā€œBut you canā€™t say anything she wants to see who notices first.ā€Ā 
Gio nodded, grinning, ā€œOkay, I wonā€™t say anything, but you have to explain to Alessa why I knew before she did or she is going to kill me tonight in my sleep.ā€Ā 
Jake laughed, ā€œYeah, yeah Iā€™ll tell her,ā€ he replied before Gio opened the front door and they made their way into the house.
ā€”
You made your way into the kitchen, joining the other women as they set about preparing lunch. Isabella guided you towards a pile of ingredients she had laid out on a side of the kitchen counter alongside a printed out recipe for muffins. Without trying to be subtle, you removed your ring and set it on the counter before mixing up the ingredients and pouring the batter into greased tins. Once your hands were washed clean of any leftover specks of chocolate, you slid your ring back on, holding your hand out to admire it in the light of the kitchen.
Squeezing past the Seresin women, you walked to the coffee machine, dropping a latte pod in the compartment and pressed the power button, reaching to grab one of the cups Sofia had unloaded from the dishwasher only a minute ago. She smiled at you kindly, completely oblivious to the ring.Ā 
Maria called your name from the living room, requesting your help with an inconsolable Bianca. Gio had disappeared off to the garage with Jake to play a round of pool with Tony and their father, leaving poor Maria alone with all four children. She was trying to comfort the baby, keep the boys from arguing and stop Catalina from playing the same episode of paw patrol for the fourth time in a row. You deposited your cup on the dining room table, joining Maria with a light jog. As you reached the boys, you gently grabbed their arms and separated them.
ā€œLuca, you know we donā€™t hit. Hitting is not nice. We are nice to our siblings. Do you understand,ā€ you told the eldest boy sternly, pointing one finger in the air, ā€œWhat do you say to your brother?ā€
ā€œThatā€™s a pretty ring Y/n,ā€ he said, bringing the collar of his shirt up to bite on it, not registering what he had said until Maria spoke, you pulled it down from his mouth, ā€œWe donā€™t eat our clothes, breakfast will be ready soon.
ā€œWhat did you just say Luca?ā€ Maria asked, dumfounded
ā€œI said Y/n had a pretty ring,ā€ he repeated. You braced yourself for her reaction, ā€œitā€™s on her hand, right here,ā€ he added, grabbing your hand and holding it up for his aunt to see.Ā 
ā€œOh my God. Oh my God! Mamma, ce l'ha fatta! He did it! He proposed!ā€ She screamed holding your hand in hers.Ā 
Something heavy shattered in the kitchen. A second later, Isabella ran into the living room, her hands covered in flour from the roll of cinnamon rolls that she had been preparing to bake. She had a spot of flour on her face, but her apron was a mess with it. You assumed the shattering noise had been their ceramic flour jar. Letting out a small squeak as she tugged you to her, she looked at the ring on your finger before looking into your eyes, ā€œYou take good care of my boy, okay?ā€Ā 
ā€œI will,ā€ you promised. At that moment, the door to the garage burst open and Tony ran into the room.
ā€œWhatā€™s the ruckus about?ā€ Tony glanced into the kitchen before adding, ā€œOh my God, mamma, did you drop the flour?ā€
ā€œNevermind the flour! Jacob proposed!ā€ she scolded him, you had never seen her so flustered.Ā 
ā€œMamma mia! Itā€™s been like, three hours, are you just noticing now?ā€ Gio said, appearing behind Tony and scaring him half to death. He leaned against the door, inspecting his nails looking smug when a pillow connected with his face and knocked him to the floor from the surprise.
ā€œYOU KNEW! You little -- Piccolo topo! You little rat! You knew!ā€ Alessa screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at her husband.
ā€œWell, Iā€¦.Iā€¦Jacob told me first?ā€ he said questioningly trying to deflect her anger on to his brother.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t you dare throw him under the bus,ā€ she said, walking over to him, ā€œHow long have you known?ā€
Gio hesitated, and before he could answer, Alessa started on him again, ā€œYou arenā€™t supposed to keep any secrets from me Giovanni.ā€Ā 
ā€œNow, whatā€™s all this commotion, has somebody died?ā€ Giovanni Senior said, climbing up the garage stairs with Jake hot on his heels.Ā 
ā€œBambino!ā€ Isabella screeched, running up to her youngest son, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him all over, ā€œOh, my Bambino!ā€
Giovanni Senior looked on at the scene, the women huddled together by the dining room table, Maria standing over three very confused children, and you still crouching on the carpet as both of his sons stared at his youngest with shit eating grins.Ā 
ā€œOh, Cieli, has he done it?ā€ Giovanni asked, ā€œBambino, tu hai proposto! You proposed!ā€ he added, practically ripping Jake away from his motherā€™s grasp to engulf him in a bone breaking hug, ā€œIo sono cosƬ orgoglioso,ā€ he added, holding Jake out in front of him.
ā€œYes, Jacob, we are all so very proud,ā€ Isabella said, rubbing his arm with a loving look on her face.
ā€œOf both of you, of course. We are so very proud of both of you,ā€ Maria said, throwing her parents a strange look, ā€œIt is such a shame your family isnā€™t there with you though,ā€ she added.
ā€œActually, I am picking them up from the airport in three hours,ā€ Gio said, hiding behind Tony in case Alessa fancied exercising her throwing arm again at his reveal that he knew more of the plan than he had let on.Ā 
ā€œYeah, I arranged for them to--ā€ Jake said, interrupted by his ringing phone, ā€œBobā€™s calling, Iā€™ll be right back,ā€ he added, turning away from the group and walking back towards the garage, only to come back three minutes later, ā€œOkay. How does Bob know?ā€
ā€œI have no idea,ā€ Maria lied, ā€œWhoā€™s Bob?ā€
ā€œYou know what, when he proposes, Maria, I will call your friends before you get to. Weā€™ll see how you like it, then,ā€ Jake told his sister, whose cheeks proceeded to turn a light shade of pink.
ā€œPlease, do not make me get the argument jar out on such a happy occasion,ā€ Isabella begged, finally brushing the flour off of her apron, ā€œWe will need to hoover before your family arrives, Y/n, and I will make my lasagna,ā€ she mumbled to herself, ā€œOr maybe spaghetti?ā€Ā 
ā€œSo, spill,ā€ Tony said, gently punching Jake in the arm, ā€œHow did you do it? Did you ask her father?ā€
ā€œYes, Antonio, I asked her father. I tried to ask him on base but he pretty much sent me packing. Something about not wanting to cry at work,ā€ Jake said, winking at you when you smiled. He walked up to one of the sofas, sitting down and motioning for you to sit next to him, ā€œSo, we went to theirs that evening. I was shitting myself --ā€Ā 
ā€œLanguage!ā€ Isabella shouted from the kitchen.
ā€œSi, sorry Mama,ā€ Jake replied, ā€œI was nervous, and Y/n didnā€™t know, so obviously she kept telling me to ā€˜relax, itā€™s just dinnerā€™,ā€ he laughed, poking you in the ribs, ā€œSo I asked and he said yes. His wife told me to call her sisters to see if they knew what Y/n might want, which I did as soon as I got home and they told me that they had a ring that her grandmother had left in her estate. We used one of the rings her sister Audrey ā€˜forgotā€™ to give back to her to get the ring resized and then we set about figuring out how I would get the ring. Now, at Thanksgiving we briefly floated the idea of a road trip and I figured it was the perfect cover to get the ring, then I emailed our Father here and asked if there was any way we might be able to work it into Mass. He obviously said no, but he offered to ask the choir to stay behind an extra fifteen minutes. So, after Mass this morning, while Gio very kindly herded you all far away, I proposed,ā€ he explained.
ā€œAww, did he do a speech?ā€ Sofia asked you, sitting down on the arm rest of the sofa chair her husband was sitting on.Ā 
ā€œYes, it was very cute,ā€ you replied, looking at Jake for a moment, then you looked at her conspiratorially, ā€œI cried,ā€ you whispered.
She winked at you, ā€œDid he cry?ā€ she asked. Jake didnā€™t answer but his silence was telling enough, ā€œOh Bambino, if you cry at the proposal, how will you be during the wedding?ā€ she laughed.
ā€œSpeaking of weddings, have you guys already thought of a date?ā€ Alessa asked, rocking Bianca in her arms.Ā 
ā€œWe were thinking Spring next year,ā€ Jake replied.Ā 
The questioning lasted for a while longer. It only stopped when Gio stood up and clapped his hands together, ā€œIā€™m off to the airport,ā€ he announced.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Isabella flew into a frenzy. She loaded you and all her children with chores and tasks until Gioā€™s truck pulled into the driveway and Cyclone, Elisabeth and your sisters jumped out of the cab. By the time they did, the house had been cleaned from baseboards to chandeliers and garage to attic, the bedding had been changed, washed and dried, and enough food to feed a small army battalion had been made. Tony had even been sent to the shop to fill up the drinksā€™ fridge.Ā 
Gio opened the front door, ushering the shocked group of guests into the house, immediately upon seeing their sister, Annie and Audrey both said, ā€œYou didnā€™t tell us he was rich too.ā€Ā 
You felt a blush spread over your cheeks in embarrassment, thankfully Isabella came to your aid, ā€œOh, it is so good to finally meet you two, Y/N has told us so much about you both. Iā€™m glad you like the house, itā€™s been in the family for generations.ā€Ā 
Pushing out a breath, you plastered a smile to your face, ā€œYes, Annie and Audrey this is everyone,ā€ you said, slowly going over the whole Seresin clan in detail.Ā 
When you finished you were pulled into a hug by Beau, ā€œIā€™m so happy for you,ā€ he whispered in your ear.
ā€œYou didnā€™t give him too much trouble did you?ā€ you asked him, ā€œWhen he came to ask?ā€ you clarified.Ā 
ā€œNo, okay well maybe a little, I had to have some fun,ā€ he said defensively and you laughed.Ā 
Lizzie pulled you into a hug next, ā€œLetā€™s see the ring,ā€ she said, taking your hand gently in hers, ā€œItā€™s your grandmothers?ā€ she asked.Ā 
ā€œYes, she wore it every day for seventy years,ā€ you said at that moment Annie cut into the conversation, ā€œWe wanted you to have it,ā€ she said, ā€œIā€™ve been saving it since she passed.ā€Ā 
ā€œThank you,ā€ you said, tearing up a little.Ā 
ā€œNow, now,ā€ Isabella said, fanning her own eyes, ā€œNo more tears on such a happy day. Dinner will be done shortly. Maria, will you show the Simpsons up to their rooms?ā€Ā 
Annie and Audrey didnā€™t bother to correct her assumption of their last name, and you saw a smile spread across Beauā€™s face. Giving him one last side hug, you made your way into the kitchen to help Isabella finish up with the meal.Ā 
Dinner went smoothly and by the end of the night, everyone was laughing together like old friends. Now the only people you had left to tell were the team, well besides Bob. Hopefully they wouldnā€™t be too shocked with the news.Ā 
ā€”
Later that night, you were getting ready for bed in Jakeā€™s room, he had been booted to the couch due to the influx of visitors, when there was a knock on the door. Turning around, you found Annie standing there holding two mugs of tea, ā€œMind a little company?ā€
ā€œWith you? Never. Whereā€™s Audrey?ā€ you asked, taking the cup from her and taking a seat upon Jakeā€™s bed.Ā 
ā€œSheā€™s talking with Maria, apparently they are bonding,ā€ Annie said with a smile, ā€œI have some good news!ā€Ā 
ā€œOhh, tell me more!ā€ you said excitedly.Ā 
Annie paused for a moment before continuing, ā€œWell, Rooster and I have been texting.ā€ ā€œOh thatā€™s so good. He is perfect for you,ā€ you said, ā€œHow do you like him?ā€Ā 
ā€œWell he is so sweet when he wants to be, and he sends me memes that he thinks are funny, he is a goofball, but I think I really like him,ā€ she said, looking down at the cup in her hands.Ā 
Setting your hand on top of hers, you said, ā€œIā€™m really happy for you Annie. I hope things with Rooster work out.ā€Ā 
ā€œMe too, then we would have to double down to find Audrey someone,ā€ Annie said laughing.Ā 
The two of you sipped your tea and chatted. You didnā€™t get to catch up with your sisters often, and with the line of work that you were in, you tried to take every opportunity to do so when you had time.Ā 
When you both started to feel tired, you took the cups downstairs. Jake was already asleep on the couch, his nerves must have tired him out. Bending down, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, brushing your fingers across his forehead moving a piece of his hair back in place you whispered, ā€œI love you.ā€ You pulled the blanket that had made its way down to his waist up to his shoulders before heading up to bed.Ā 
ā€”
ā€œGuys, last call!ā€ Penny shouted to the remaining eighteen patrons of the Hard Deck. It was getting late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. Still over the moon after what happened in Texas, you and Jake had decided the night was still young, and while no one but the two of you knew the occasion, there was much to celebrate.
With this in mind you fought the sleepiness and the comfortable warmth Jakeā€™s arms were providing and left the couch to order a drink at the bar.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll just have a sugar-free Pepsi, Penny, please,ā€ you asked.Ā 
ā€œNot a big drinker?ā€ A voice next to you asked. It belonged to a man about your age, dark curly hair, brown eyes and the kind of smirk that sent shivers up your spine. You recognised him from somewhere and when he spoke you remembered seeing him hug Jake at the Christmas market, ā€œDo I know you, I feel like I know you?ā€Ā 
ā€œNo, I donā€™t think you do,ā€ you replied, eager to get away. Penny hadnā€™t given you your drink yet, but you figured you would wait where the officer wasnā€™t likely to follow, seeing as he had very wisely chosen not to approach the dagger squad all night.Ā 
ā€œWell, I think Iā€™d like to,ā€ he said, blocking your path with his arm. The smirk remained, but whatever warmth he had in his eyes earlier had vanished now. You looked at the team, trying to catch their eye but they had all bunched up by Fanboy to watch something on his phone. None of them were even looking up. You tried to seek help from Penny, figuring that if anyone had the power to throw him outside it would be her, but her call for last orders had brought a nice throng of people by the bar top and she remained occupied.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m not interested,ā€ you said, trying to push past him. As soon as he felt you fight his arm, he moved his entire body in front of you, effectively sandwiching you between the bar and himself and hiding you from anyone who could possibly come and save you.
ā€œSure you are, doll. My name is Dylan,ā€ he replied, moving closer to you, ā€œThatā€™s a pretty necklace you have there,ā€ he added, pointing towards the golden rosary. You had worn it every day since Jake had gifted it to you, taking it off only to sleep and shower. It was something you held impossibly dear, and yet, if you had thought it would get him away from you, you would have gladly ripped it right off of your neck.Ā 
ā€œYou a catholic? I like the catholic,ā€ he started, ā€œespecially the girls,ā€ he said with a wink, ā€œtheyā€™re all soā€¦ Innocent. Are you innocent?ā€
ā€œPlease leave me alone,ā€ you said, your skin starting to crawl from here he had his hand on you.Ā 
He pouted, ā€œAww, Iā€™m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable? Thatā€™s a shame. I really donā€™t mean toā€¦ā€ he said, moving one of his hands to touch a strand of your hair that had fallen from your clip onto your shoulder, ā€œIā€™m just asking questions, getting to know you better, you know?ā€
ā€œPlease, leave me alone,ā€ you repeated, more self-assured and louder this time. Still he did not move or let you go. He cocked his head to the right and looked you straight in the eyes.
ā€œPretty girl like you, I bet youā€™re a good catholic girl. I bet youā€™re waiting for your prince charming. Tell you what sweetheart, how about I show you a good time while you wait,ā€ he winked, ā€œTell me honey, do you still have that schoolgirl uniform lying around? Weā€™ll put it to good use.ā€
ā€œIā€™m sure we will, isnā€™t that right, baby? Iā€™m sure itā€™ll be great when we need it to mop your blood off of the fucking floor,ā€ Jake appeared behind the man, towering over him with a dark look on his face, Dylan turned around as soon as he heard the menacing tone of voice with which your fiancĆ© was speaking, ā€œBobby, why donā€™t you show Y/n that video you took at church last Sunday, I think Dylan and I are going to go for a walk,ā€ he added, still staring straight at the man.Ā 
Once you slipped past the both of them and into Bobā€™s reassuring arms, Jake grabbed Dylan by the collar of his service uniform and all but dragged him outside, Rooster and Coyote following close behind. Bob rubbed circles on your back as he guided you back to the sofa, making sure to seat you somewhere where you wouldnā€™t be able to see Jake.Ā 
----
ā€œDylan, what the fuck are you doing?ā€ Jake said as soon as the Hard Deckā€™s front door closed behind them. He walked off of the deck, still holding tightly onto the kidā€™s khakis. Once he set foot on the concrete parking lot, he swung his arm around, letting go of the kid and watching him hit the floor with a satisfying thud.
Dylan stood up quickly, limping slightly as he took a few steps back. He wiped his hands clean of gravel and grime onto the front of his trousers, inspecting the tiny cuts and future bruises his fall had caused.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s your problem, Seresin? You might have run shit at home, but you ainā€™t running shit in San Diego,ā€ Dylan said, spitting at the floor in front of Jake.Ā 
Jake took a few steps forward until he stood a few feet in front of the kid, ā€œThat was my fucking fiancĆ©, kid,ā€ he said.
ā€œHuh,ā€ the kid smiled slyly, ā€œNot that innocent after all,ā€ he added.Ā 
By the time Rooster and Coyote had sprung into action, Jakeā€™s fist had already connected with Dylanā€™s head, knocking him out cold even before he hit the floor. Rooster walked up to the kid, checking him for any signs of serious injury while Coyote tried to stop Jake from kicking the man and finishing the job.Ā 
ā€œHey, hey, take it easy, dude,ā€ Rooster said, jumping to Coyoteā€™s side once the other man started struggling against Jakeā€™s strength, ā€œYou need to calm the fuck down,ā€ he added.
Jake took a few deep breaths, ā€œIā€™m good, Iā€™m okay,ā€ he panted. The fight had been one of the shortest of his life, but the adrenaline had the same effect it always did and made him breathless. He bent down with his hands on his knees for a second before standing back up, only to immediately bend down again when Coyote drove his fist into his stomach, ā€œWhat the fuck was that for?ā€Ā 
ā€œFucking fiancĆ© dude?! You proposed? I thought I was your best friend, man!ā€ Javi exclaimed.
ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ Jake said, wincing from the pain, ā€œWe havenā€™t told anyone. Wanted to ask you to be my best man at the same timeā€¦ā€
ā€œYeah, whatever, dude,ā€ Coyote said, pushing past him. He reached the door before turning around, ā€œWait, what?ā€ he asked incredulously, ā€œAre you serious, best man?ā€
ā€œYeah, obviously. I just -- you know, ask properly. Not in the middle of a fucking parking lot next to a knocked out asshole,ā€ Jake replied, gesturing around him at the parked car and Dylan, groaning as he came to.Ā 
ā€œYeah, thatā€™s fairā€¦ā€ Coyote finally said, ā€œHuh, Jake Seresin, walking down the aisleā€¦ Well I never,ā€ he added with a wide smile.
ā€œAnd the first one too,ā€ Jake laughed.
ā€œCongratulations man,ā€ Rooster clapped him on the back, ā€œEngagement suits you. You look good.ā€Ā 
ā€œI am good, Bradshaw. Very good,ā€ Jake replied with a smirk, ā€œIā€™m over the fucking moon, man. It was the scariest thing Iā€™ve ever had to do,ā€ he admitted with a nervous laugh.Ā 
ā€œHow did you do it?ā€ Coyote asked as he and Rooster joined Javi near the door.Ā 
ā€œI proposed after church one day, we went up to the front while my family was waiting outside and went down to one knee and proposed,ā€ Jake said, a far off look on his face.Ā 
ā€œSounds nice,ā€ Rooster said, grinning at him, ā€œHow about we get you a drink? My treat, man.ā€Ā 
Rooster opened the door, calling over to the bar, ā€œPenny! Could you get Jake one last whiskey please, and put it on my tab, would ya?ā€
ā€œOoh, what are you celebrating?ā€ She asked with a laugh.
Jake shot you a look, asking for permission to reveal your secret. When you nodded, he smiled, ā€œI proposed,ā€ he said. Penny cheered loudly, going to grab her nicest bottle of whiskey and pouring him a double. You joined Jake by the bar.Ā 
ā€œHang on. I donā€™t get it,ā€ Harvard slurred, ā€œYou proposed to that kid?ā€
Jake looked at Harvard, then at you, and back at Brigham again, ā€œYes Brig. I proposed to the kid. He tried out one of the pickup lines he used on Y/n and I just felt so overcome by love and adoration that I proposed on the spot,ā€ he deadpanned. Raising his arm for you to slot into.
ā€œā€˜Atā€™s nice, man. ā€˜S very nice. How -- howā€˜re you going to tell Y/n?ā€ He asked, leaning forwards towards Jake and falling flat on his face.
ā€œI think youā€™ve had enough to drink, dude,ā€ Yale said, picking up his friend and sitting him down on one of the comfortable sofas. He removed Harvardā€™s pint out of his hand, and by the time he had put it down on the pool table, he had already fallen asleep.
Once that commotion had blown over, the rest of the squad descended upon you and Jake with questions and Congratulations. After another hour, Penny finally closed down the bar, ushering you all into the parking lot. Jake climbed into your car, folding himself into the passenger seat of your Mini Cooper.Ā 
You stopped in front of his apartment building, putting the car in neutral and engaging the handbrake to allow you to give Jake a proper goodbye. You leaned over to him and kissed his lips, cupping his face with one hand. When you came up for air, he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, ā€œGoodnight, future Mrs. Seresin, I love you.ā€
ā€œI love you too, Mr. Seresin. Sleep well,ā€ you replied. He unbuckled himself and opened the passenger door, kissing your lips one last time before leaving the car and walking up the stairs towards his apartment.Ā 
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allegra-writes Ā· 3 years ago
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"Don't Dream it's over"
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A "Hopeless Romantic" out take, can be read as a stand alone.
Billy Russo x Reader
Teen and up
Warnings: Canon typical dark-ish Billy, unresolved sexual tension in the form of thinly veiled threats
Hey, guys! I know I said I was going to post the next part of "Hopeless Romantic" this weekend but real life got in the way, so I'm posting this early draft as an apology, in the hopes you can find a little mercy and don't unfollow this poor, extremely busy, writer šŸ’”
Back when I first wrote this, Reader was going to be Dinah's friend instead of Frank's, so her refusal to give into her feelings for Billy was going to be rooted in a deeper guilt (you'll see why), and Billy was going to be... Well, he was going to be the same bastard, but pretty much from the get go.
This was obviously inspired by that one confrontation scene with Dinah in season two. Hope you enjoyšŸ’–
MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE
The scream died in your throat even before his hand came up against your mouth to drown it, the crisp, expensive smell of his cologne giving away the identity of the intruder inside your darkened apartment even before he spoke.
"Shhh baby girl" Billy Russo breathed hot against your ear, "it's just meā€¦"
"That is exactly why I should scream" you countered, even as you kept your voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Aw, I promise you baby," he cooed mockingly in response "before this is over, I will make you scream"
He punctured his words with a quick kiss to the side of your neck, chuckling at the way you tensed, before letting you go.
You almost tripped over yourself in your haste to get away from him as fast as you could, willing your heart to calm down its furious beating, telling yourself it was galloping in fear, and nothing more.
Definetly not in reaction to the way his body had been pressed against yours. Absolutely not at having his warmth, his touch, against your skin after almost a year.
"What do you want, Billy?" You were proud at how steady your voice sounded. He shrugged.
"What I always want"
Information, then.
"I already told you everything I know-"
"Have you?" He interrupted, taking a step. You took a step back, "Because, you seeā€¦ I don't think you did"
No. He couldn't know, could he? There was no way he could possibly know. His mind was in shambles, that's what Dr. Dumont had said. The last three years -or more- erased from his memory.
And yetā€¦
"I haven't lied to you"
"Not saying you did," He placated, "but you didn't tell me everything either. Am I right, agent?"
His lips curled in disgust around the last word, the only outward sign that betrayed how upset he truly was. But you had experience in dealing with him, you could feel the undercurrent of danger in his faux calm demeanor. The step back you took this time was deliberate.
"I have no idea what you're talking about" feeling behind you, your hand had barely reached the handle of drawer, when he waved your own gun at you.
"Looking for this?"
You froze.
"I could give it back, if you really want me to" he turned it around in his hand, offering the handle, "You always point this at me, every single time. You never pulled the trigger, though, wonder why is thatā€¦ You don't want it?" He goaded, shrugging again when you refused to take it from his hands, "Suit yourself"
Gun tucked safely behind his back, he sat on your couch, making your eyes burn at the way he just fitted there. As if he owned the place, as if he was meant to be right there, in the middle of your home, surrounded by your books, by your records and your friends' pictures, in the middle of your life.
And maybe, just maybe, once upon a time, you had thought exactly that.
You knew better now.
He gestured at the chair in front of him. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching in some misguided sense of satisfaction as his jaw clenched at your obvious rejectionl of his invitation.
"I'm not in the mood for games, Billy. Ask me what you came here to ask, and go away"
"So you can call the cops? Why don't you come after me yourself, Y/N? I've given you plenty of chances. Tell me, are you that eager to play damsel in distress for detective Mahoney's knight in shining armour?"
You frowned, did he know about your date with the detective?
"... Or maybe," He went on, smirking, "maybe you don't really want to catch me"
"What the-"
"Why did you come to the hospital?" He demanded, voice raising above yours. You almost sighed in relief, so that was what this was about? "I didn't have many visitors. Not many loved ones, I guess... But you came to see me. Why?"
"I went to see my partner" The lie fell easily from your lips, you had some practice with it, having fed it it to both Curtis and Frank before, "You were just there on the way out"
"Your partner" He repeated, obviously not convinced.
"Dinah Madani. You might not remember her though, she put a bullet in your head, you returned the courtesy?" Only Dinah hadn't been lucky enough to wake up.
Billy chuckled, amused,
"No, can't say it rings any bellsā€¦ I can see why I liked you, though"
You couldn't help your scoff,
"You didn't like me, you used me. You slept with me for information, while openly dating Dinah"
He was up and onto you in a blink, crowding you against the breakfast bar that separated your tiny living room from your equally small kitchen.
"Maybe" He leaned even closer, hot breath fanning against your face, "but it's not Dinah I remember just like this against a wall, moaning my name"
Your eyes went wide as you leaned back as far as you could to get away from him trapped as you were against the counter.
"You-"
"Yeah, I remember you. Everything else is-... Is a mess, but you? You, I remember" He licked his lips, smirking as your eyes zeroed in his pink tongue, "On your hands and knees on a training mat, bended over a desk, ridding me inside my carā€¦ I dreamed about you every night, Y/N. Tell me, who did you dream about?"
Him. You had dreamt about him, him moving above you, his phantom touch leaving burning trails on your skin long after you had woken up, him kissing you like he wanted to suck your soul out of your open mouth, too hard, until you couldn't breath.
A black mask. A hidden blade Him stabbing you. Dinah desperately crying for help as you bled out in her arms.
His hand snaked under your blouse, fingertips gracing the scar you still carried from his knife.
"You still wear my mark" He whispered, almost reverently, in awe.
You pushed against his chest, but he only surged forwards, hand tangling in your hair, bending you backwards on the counter as you punched and kicked at him.
But the angle was all wrong, leaving you with no leverage to push him off you as his fingers digged painfully around your throat. White spots exploded in your vision as you trashed, flailing arms knocking appliances and cups, until your hand hit something heavy and smooth. Wood.
Your fingers closed around one of the knife's handle, finally taking it out of the block to rest it against Billy's neck. He froze, frenzied eyes meeting yours.
"Do it" He breathed out, "If someone's gonna kill me, I want it to be you"
You pressed harder, until a faint red line appeared under the blade, but no further.
Not as Billy's lips crashed against yours, hard and punishing.
Not as the hand under your shirt moved up, cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple over the lace.
Not as his other hand popped the button of your jeans open and sliped inside...
206 notes Ā· View notes
bubblyhoney Ā· 3 years ago
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can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk
places i used to go
warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage
tags: sapnap x gn!reader
words: 2191
A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd
inbox/requests: open
-
The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.
ā€œThatā€™s where I went to high school.ā€ Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.
ā€œAnd youā€™re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work andā€”actually, nevermind.ā€ His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.
ā€œDo what?ā€ You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.
ā€œNothing. Homework.ā€ He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. ā€œAnywaysā€” Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.ā€
You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-momā€™s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dadā€™s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.
You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.
ā€œYeah,ā€ you decide, bottom lip popped out. ā€œCan we get ice cream after?ā€
ā€œUh, duh.ā€ The Neighbourhoodā€™s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. ā€œIā€™m so ready to get home and sleep.ā€ He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.
ā€œOkay, weā€™re here,ā€ he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. ā€œYouā€™re so cute.ā€
ā€œShut up,ā€ you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. Youā€™d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.
The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.
ā€œDo you know her?ā€ You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.
ā€œDonā€™t think so.ā€ He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeansā€™ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.
ā€œWhat?ā€ You give him a weird look and put down the menu.
ā€œI totally went to homecoming with that girl.ā€ He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.
ā€œSheā€™s cute,ā€ you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.
ā€œAre youā€”?ā€
ā€œWhat?ā€ You reply right back.
ā€œNothing.ā€
Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else youā€™d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.
ā€œIā€™m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.ā€ You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.
ā€œYou werenā€™t hungry an hour ago.ā€ He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? ā€œI would have made you something.ā€
You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.
ā€œI think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.ā€ A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.
ā€œI do have that effect,ā€ he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.
The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.
ā€œSo,ā€ you start, patting dry your jeans. ā€œtell me what you were like in high school.ā€ You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.
ā€œWhat I was like?ā€ He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. ā€œFirstly, a virgin.ā€ You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (Youā€™ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) ā€œSecondly, I was actuallyā€” well, I wasnā€™t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didnā€™t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.ā€
ā€œRelatable,ā€ you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet ā€œKobeā€ and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. ā€œStop being cute, Iā€™m trying to listen to your story.ā€
ā€œOh, my bad,ā€ he mocks. ā€œAnyways. Thatā€™s what I was like in highschool.ā€ You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.
Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.
Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by ā€œfood, me eatā€ instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.
ā€œCā€™mere,ā€ he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.
ā€œThanks, baby.ā€ You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.
You two finish your food in record time. Itā€™s borderline vacuum-like. Thereā€™s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.
ā€œIā€™m a much more functional person now,ā€ you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.
ā€œI guess weā€™re not getting ice cream, then,ā€ he teases, and you just groan in response.
ā€œI donā€™t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.ā€ You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.
The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. Heā€™s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.
ā€œThatā€™s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring wasā€” dude broke the bank for her.ā€ Itā€™s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.
You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.
ā€œOh my God, itā€™s still there.ā€ He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. ā€œMy buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the menā€™s bathroom.ā€
You shoot him a horrified look. ā€œWhy was it in the bathroom?ā€
He just smirks.
ā€œā€”And thatā€™s my Uncle Ronā€™s house. Had my first beer there.ā€
ā€œAnd last, hopefully,ā€ you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. ā€œThat shit is nasty.ā€
He just shrugs and continues down the side street.
ā€œIs this the park you were talking about?ā€
He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesnā€™t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.
ā€œCome on.ā€ He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.
ā€œI hope this isnā€™t where you kill me.ā€
ā€œNo,ā€ he snorts. ā€œI just wanted to show you something.ā€
Itā€™s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before youā€™re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.
ā€œThis your make out spot?ā€ You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.
ā€œNo,ā€ he murmurs, and just breathes you in. ā€œI came here onceā€”the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone Iā€™d take them here with me.ā€ He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.
You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.
ā€œThatā€™sā€” awfully romantic, huh?ā€ Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.
ā€œSo here we are.ā€ His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.
You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.
ā€œDonā€™t propose,ā€ you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and heā€™s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.
You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. Heā€™s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.
You realize you wouldnā€™t mind if he proposed.
-
A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think
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lightsovermonaco Ā· 3 years ago
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Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)
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Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-maxā€‹ thank you Mea!Ā 
Masterlist
Word count: 3.5k
Recommended song: ā€œLucky Youā€ by Sim Dane
Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.
When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane.Ā 
The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.
Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.
"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."
Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and heĀ  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.
Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.
Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.
You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.
Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.
A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.
You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.
Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.
You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.
You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.
You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid.Ā 
The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after.Ā 
Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.
Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.
Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.
A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.
You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.
Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.
You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.
An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.
"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."
Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.
"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."
You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.
"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.
Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.
"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.
"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.
"Well done mate!"
Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.
"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."
"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.
"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.
"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.
"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"
"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.
**********
"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.
"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."
"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."
"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.
Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.
Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."
"That's exactly why-"
"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.
Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.
"Let's do it."
Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"
"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"
"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking.Ā 
"This a good height for you?"
The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.
"Sure," is all you manage.
"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.
You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.
"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,Ā  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb.Ā 
Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."
"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.
The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"
"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"
Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."
"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."
When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.
Michael B. Jordan who?
Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.
Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?"Ā 
Holy shit, this was actually happening.
"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.
"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."
Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.
A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.
"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.
"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.
Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."
Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.
"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding.Ā 
"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.
Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.
"Have at 'er-"
Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides.Ā 
You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.
Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you.Ā 
Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting.Ā 
Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.
And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.
Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.Ā Ā 
"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.
"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."
"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.
"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."
The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.
Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."
You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.
"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,Ā  they promised not to keep you long."
Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning.Ā 
And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.
Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, butā€¦" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.
"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."
You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.
"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.
"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.
"Can I kiss you again?"
Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.
"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."
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anonquack Ā· 4 years ago
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| And Me? |
Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!
Word Count: 2262
Warnings: None! Just some curse words.
Summary: Seeing how much time you've been spending with Bad recently just doesn't sit well with Quackity, and he's going to make sure your attention is returned back to where it belongs. With him.
You had been messing around with what was coined the "Feral Boys" on a Saturday afternoon. Your takeout order was placed on your desk, neglected by the loud clicking and tapping of your keyboard. You all had been throwing around random stream ideas, which proceeded to be bashed by everyone.
"Guys," Dream groaned, frustration clear in his tone yet there was still that softness that let everyone know he wasn't actually mad, "we've been on call for 2 hours and still have no stream ideas we like."
"Maybe if Sapnap didn't complain about everything." Karl quickly quipped in, the grin that was probably plastered onto his face was visible to you even with it just being voice chat.
Sapnap clapped back just as quickly, a little more edge to his words but just the right amount of teasing too.
"Yeah? Nothing works with your schedule. We gotta fit these ideas in with your Mr. Beast-filled schedule."
Quackity let out a laugh that made you roll your eyes yet smile fondly as you finally turned to look at your food, taking a bite as the call jumped right back into their previous banter, a helpless Dream trying to regain control and get everyone to work together.
It served as background noise as you quietly ate your food, inputting or agreeing with someone here and there, your stomach grateful to finally be getting some food. You'd been too busy earlier, and now you had the chance to eat and relax on call with friends. No actual streaming or anything, but still with the burden of coming up with new and fun stream ideas.
As you took yet another bite, your gaze fell onto your phone as the screen lit up, a notification coming through. You set your food down and grabbed the device, clicking on it and smiling once you saw it was a message from Bad.
Unlike whatever mess this call was, you had scheduled to record a video with Bad, and you assumed this message was to confirm that he was now available to film. After quickly reading it, your assumptions were proven right.
"Hey, Bad just texted. I'm gonna head out. Try not to think too hard while I'm gone, okay?" You said as you grabbed ahold of your mouse again, cursor going towards the disconnect button.
There was a mix of 'Bye!' and 'You think of some too, then!' and Sapnap's backhanded remarks that told you he would indeed miss you. You smiled, about to click disconnect before he spoke up.
"Bad? What are you recording with Bad?" The question caught you off guard, not because it came from Quackity but because no one had asked.
"Oh, well, just for a youtube video.. and I promised him we'd chat since I miss him." You admitted, cursor dancing across the screen as you waited for a response, if there was to be any.
"How come we didn't get invited?" Quackity asked, voice a mix of feigned hurt and disbelief of being 'left out'.
You playfully rolled your eyes, noticing a message come in from Bad yet again asking if he could call now. "You spend enough time with Bad as it is. Get in line, right now its MY turn. Now bye!! Seriously." You chuckled, hearing the start of a protest before disconnecting from the call and moving your cursor onto Bad's chat, quickly pressing the call button and waiting to hear his sweet voice ringing through your headphones.
ā€”
As the small ping notified everyone else in the call that you had disconnected, Quackity let out a small huff, followed by George's small laugh.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" Quackity replied with a tired tone, fingers lazily typing up some email he had been procrastinating on.
"Was that jealously I smelled, Big Q?" Karl teased, letting out a laugh that was so contagious, eliciting laughs from the whole call, even Quackity couldn't help but laugh before letting out another noise of disapproval.
"No, what the fuck? It's just they didn't even contribute any ideas. Just sat and argued with us, and then left to go hang out with Bad." He reasoned, it was a half truth. It didn't bother Quackity at all that you'd been 'unproductive', he enjoyed your company so much and these past two hours had left him with a tummy ache from laughing too hard.
What he hadn't enjoyed was you dropping everything to go on a call with Bad.
It didn't actually bother him, it was part of the bit they had going on, where he was a Skeppy 2.0 and had to fight the other Skeppy copies, in this case YOU, for Bad's attention.
..
Right?
He could feel a migraine coming through trying to understand this new emotion settling in his chest.
Sapnap let out an amused laugh, mumbling a 'sure' but swiftly changing topics in order to not start yet another argument.
ā€”
It had been about 4 days since the call with the 'Feral Boys' and the recording with Bad. Since then, everything had ran smoothly and you'd been extra productive, focused on getting the video edited and posted as soon as possible.
Currently, you were ringing Bad as he streamed on the server, wanting to make a quick appearance and also just bug him for a bit since you missed him.
Since it was a rather chill stream, Bad didn't fight away your affection, instead encouraging that you hop on the server and play with him for a bit. You couldn't say no to that, how could you?
Before you knew it, you were off your bed and on your chair, in front of your computer as the Minecraft loading screen lit up your facial features and Bad told chat and you about an event that took place this weekend while he was out shopping.
The hushed laughs and sweet stories being shared were soon interrupted by Bad letting out an annoyed huff. "Quackity is spamming me to let him join the call. Is that okay, Y/N?"
You nodded, letting out a hum of approval as you walked towards Bad's avatar that was currently standing still since Bad tabbed out. "Of course."
"Okay, Quackity I'm live, what do you want?" Bad warned before tabbing back onto minecraft.
"Why are you guys calling without me?" There it was, the same tone he had 4 days ago when he was 'upset' he got left out. Your eyes looked at the small message on the bottom left of the screen that let everyone know Quackity had joined the server.
"Because.. whats wrong with it?" Bad asked, confused, before happily following that up, "I was actually telling them about my trip to the store over the weekend."
"Yeah, he was," you mused, "before you rudely interrupted." You assumed he was here for a bit, the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love and affection, bothering Bad for a bit before letting the stream go back to being a relaxing, chill stream.
"Yeah? Well I want to hear the story too. You'll tell me too, right Bad?" He returned, the joking tone in his voice confirmed your assumptions. This was a bit.
Bad let out an exasperated sigh. These bits were never planned beforehand, they just happened and unfortunately for Bad it was happening during his chill stream. "What are you two going to fight about now?"
"I have one. Why were you guys recording without me? Hm?" The chat exploded with confusion and excitement for a new video from either Bad or you, possible video ideas being thrown around in chat.
"Because." You deadpan, "If you can do it, so can I."
"That's different." He says every single syllable with precision, as if he is preaching something of upmost importance. "You two spend way too much time together now."
Bad says something to try and interfere the banter he knows is about to take place, chat is going crazy about the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love. "So much for a chill stream." He mumbles to chat as his character watches you and Quackity hitting each other. With your fists, since it was deemed a 'fair fight' by both.
After about 3 hours, Bad decided he'd had enough and began saying goodbye to chat. There was a content smile on your lips as you made your character crouch beside Bad's, letting out a small and content "Bye chat!". Quackity had stayed the 3 hours as well, and was yelling his own goodbyes. As soon as the stream ended, Bad let out a small laugh.
"Sometimes you two are just too much." He said, the smile evident in his voice. "Do you guys enjoy bothering me that much?"
"Aw c'mon, Bad. You know we love you tons. And you know damn well you enjoy it too." Quackity teased, which earned yet another exasperated sigh from Bad.
"Okay, well I'm heading to bed.. I'm exhausted. Thank you two, for joining me tonight.. I had fun." He said softly, which automatically made a frown appear on your lips.
"Of course, Bad! I had fun too. Thanks for letting us join. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" You offered, to which he hummed. There was a few more goodbyes exchanged before the ping notified you both Bad was gone.
There was silence for a bit as you finally got out of the server and shut minecraft off, wanting to rest your eyes for a bit. Maybe even head to bed yourself.
"You'll call him tomorrow, huh?"
Your eyes closed and you leaned your head back against your chair.
"Bit's over, Quackity." You chuckled, not up for yet another banter about who deserved Bad's love more.
"When's the last time we called? Now it's just Bad this, Bad that."
Your eyes opened, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his little profile picture that had its green ring fading around it.
"What?" You said in pure disbelief.
"You heard me." He mumbled. "Video recordings, streams, calls. And me? Nothing. Not one crumb."
"What about you?" You teased, amusement growing as you realized the past 3 hours had not been about Bad, at least not entirely.
"Don't make me actually say it." He complained, which only helped make the smile on your face grow.
"Use your words, Alex. I can't read minds." You gently bit at your bottom lip in anticipation, and in poor attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape.
"Where's my calls? My recordings. You can't just randomly strip away all your attention from me and dump it on Bad."
"I didn't even do that." You protested, before letting the laugh escape your lips. "Plus, you should be greedy over Bad's attention, not mine."
"Maybe it's not for a bit, asshole? Did you think of that?" He asked sarcastically, earning a scoff from you.
"So you want my attention yet you're going to proceed to call me an asshole?"
"Yes." He breathed out.
"You didn't deny it." You hummed in slight approval. Usually he'd shy away from showing any actual clinginess or affection, and yet here he was, declaring with his whole chest that he wanted attention.
"Because I'm serious. Do you think this is a joke? Is that what I am to you?" He said dramatically, to which you shook your head.
"Of course not." You hummed before smiling at the absurdity of this conversation.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you and now you were imagining things.
"So? Does this mean I'm getting daily calls, recording videos with you, and streaming together whenever? Even on the alt?"
"Now you're just asking for too much."
"It's the bare minimum you can do for treating me so poorly and neglecting your responsibilities."
"Neglecting my responsibilities?" You repeated in disbelief.
"Yes." He declared. "Ignoring me for Bad is neglecting your responsibilities. A.K.A. me."
"I wasn't ignoring you, Alex." You tried to reason, though he would not listen to any reasoning.
"Yeah, yeah. So what? Do we have a deal?"
You paused and thought about what he was asking for. It really wasn't much, and he was most likely joking, but it was very endearing to see him ask for attention so openly. Especially from you.
"Did you miss me, Alex? While I was off on calls with Bad, talking about who knows what until who knows what time.. were you missing me? Thinking about me?" There was a teasing tone to your voice, but you also genuinely wanted to know.
It was clear that it caught him offguard.
"I mean.. yeahā€“ what do you want me to say? No, fuck you. I didn't miss you at all. That's why I'm on call with you whining and bitching about how you don't give me enough attention and I want more. Specifically from you, please."
His last few words came out more hushed than the rest, and it brought a smile onto your face.
"Okay."
"Okay-?"
"You don't have to go on.. I'll give you the attention you want so badly from me." You said, the grin on your face growing more at the sound of happiness he let out.
"I guess directly asking for stuff isn't too bad, hm? I'll have to give props to Karl later for the advice."
You raised your eyebrows in amusement. "You asked Karl for advice on how to get my attention-?"
He let out a small groan, "Let's not talk about this with anyone, yeah? Just give me my attention and shh."
You hummed, "Whatever you say, Alex."
464 notes Ā· View notes
teddy06writes Ā· 4 years ago
Text
A Night In Las Vegas
requested by this anon: ā€œI had the BEST idea: CC!Quackity came up with the idea of his Las Nevadas character arc after going to Las Vegas and meeting Reader there. Maybe one night the reader decides to go and twitch and finds quackity doing a lore stream and the reader is like: no way, itā€™s the guy I met in Vegas.ā€
{I love this concept, sorry it took so long for me to get out}
Quackity x reader
trigger warnings: some swears
premise: after getting ditched by your friends on the last night of your long weekend in vegas you run into a very interesting guy who doesnā€™t hesitate to befriend you. But what happens months later when he still seems to be running circles in your mind?
{covid donā€™t exist here, no sir}
{for the sake of the story, readers favorite color is blue, if its not, either pretend it is, or get over it}
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
10:34pm
ā€œYou canā€™t just- you canā€™t kick me out!ā€ You yelled.Ā 
Your bestfriend laughed,Ā ā€œJust find somewhere to go for a few hours! Me and Hunter want alone time!ā€Ā 
ā€œA few fucking hours!?! Seriously?!ā€ But your duffle bag had already been thrown at your feet, and the hotel door room was swinging closed, muffled giggles coming from inside.
Groaning, you picked up your bag, where were you supposed to go now?Ā 
ā€œNot that I was like- listening in or anything- but damn that sucks.ā€Ā 
You jumped turning to see a man with black hair sticking out of his beanie standing in front of the door diagonal from yours.Ā 
ā€œUh- yeah. Last night in Vegas and I get ditched for a random hook up,ā€ You scoffed,Ā ā€œI shouldā€™ve known it would happen.ā€Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s not cool, uh- Iā€™m Alex.ā€ He stepped forward, offering his hand.Ā 
Somewhat reluctantly, you shook his hand,Ā ā€œ(y/n).ā€Ā 
He nodded,Ā ā€œI was going to head out for a late night wander, find something to do-, preferably away from all the hookups that seem to be happing around us right now. If you want to come.ā€Ā 
You glanced around,Ā ā€œSeriously?ā€Ā 
ā€œOh- god that did sound kinda creepy didnā€™t it,ā€ Alex scrubbed a hand over his face,Ā ā€œSorry- I- you can just forget about this then-ā€Ā 
ā€œNo! I mean- You donā€™t seem like a rapist or anything. Iā€™ll come with.ā€Ā 
He grinned,Ā ā€œPoggers, you can, leave that, in my room, if you want. Just seems like a pain to lug around everywhere.ā€Ā 
You bit your lip,Ā ā€œLeaving my belongings in a strangers room while I go with said stranger to find something interesting to do, sure- why not?ā€
~~
10:57pm
Somehow, you found yourself wandering out of the hotel lobby, and onto the crowded streets along side Alex.Ā 
ā€œSo.... whats your favorite color?ā€ He asked as you walked.
You laughed,Ā ā€œWhat?ā€Ā 
ā€œWeā€™re like, total strangers- it was a question, to get to know you.ā€ He tucked his hands into his pockets.Ā 
ā€œOh, well-ā€ before you could finish your sentence, there was a large amount of gasps and yells from the crowd in front of you.
ā€œWhatā€™s going on?ā€ Alex asked quietly.Ā 
You craned your neck to look over the crowd, gasping,Ā ā€œThe water show! With the fountains outside of Caesarā€™s Palace!ā€ You grabbed his hand, tugging him with you to push through the crowd,Ā ā€œThis was the whole reason I agreed to this trip- but we never got to it!ā€Ā 
You shoved your way through the crowd until you got to the front, pressing against the barrier to watch the fountain display.Ā 
ā€œHoly shit.ā€ You heard him mutter from beside you.Ā 
You grinned,Ā ā€œItā€™s impressive right?ā€Ā 
ā€œImagine the coding it would take to get those things to stay on time.ā€Ā 
~~
11:27pmĀ 
After the show had ended, you had kept wandering for a while, up the strip, asking various questions back and forth.Ā 
You had found out that he was a Minecraft youtuber and a law student, though youā€™d had to admit, you werenā€™t too knowledgeable on either that subject.Ā 
Now you were both staring up at the Dave and Busters sign,Ā ā€œThis is a good idea right?ā€Ā 
He nodded,Ā ā€œDefinitely. Come on, Iā€™d bet I could beat you at skee ball!ā€Ā 
Laughing, you followed him into the building, and up the stairs toward the arcade entrance,Ā ā€œYour on!ā€Ā 
After buying the credit cards for access to the games, you grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the skee ball lanes.Ā 
ā€œLets go!ā€ He shouted, a few minutes later, upon realizing your score was a total of 10 points behind his,Ā ā€œIā€™m popping off!ā€
You laughed,Ā ā€œOkay, what gameā€™s next?ā€Ā 
Nearly an hour later, you had both run out of credits, and laughing, made you way up to the prize area.Ā 
ā€œDo you think its possible to compile our tickets?ā€ He asked.Ā 
ā€œWhy?ā€Ā 
You followed his pointing finger to the large stuffed dragons sitting on one shelf.Ā 
ā€œWe need him.ā€ You said immediately.
After picking out a bright red dragon, you began to argue over the name as you made your way to the counter.Ā 
ā€œWhat about Carl?ā€ You suggested.Ā 
He shook his head,Ā ā€œI have a friend named Karl.ā€Ā 
ā€œHowĀ ā€˜bout........ Phil?ā€Ā 
ā€œI also know a Phil.ā€Ā 
ā€œHmmmm, what about Sebastian?ā€Ā 
ā€œHe doesnā€™t look like a Sebastian!ā€Ā 
You frowned,Ā ā€œWell do you have any ideas then?ā€Ā 
Alex thought for a moment,Ā ā€œAlbert.ā€Ā 
You looked down at the dragon,Ā ā€œAlbert it is.ā€Ā 
At the counter Alex convinced the reluctant worker to allow you to use both the cards credit totals, and then you went happily on your way out of the building, stopping to take a picture of Albert in front of the sign, which Alex posted to twitter with the comment of,Ā ā€œLook at our son!ā€Ā 
Youā€™d staid mostly out of frame, but he managed to get about half of your side, since you were the one holding Albert.Ā 
ā€œDo you think any pf the buffets are still open?ā€ Alex asked.Ā 
ā€œI hope so, Iā€™m starving.ā€ You giggled.Ā 
~~ 12:06am
The buffet was somewhat deserted, and you and Alex had grabbed seats in one of the corners after getting plates full of food.
Albert sat on the table between you as you talked.Ā 
ā€œSo itā€™s roleplay- but in Minecraft?ā€ You asked, barley holding back a laugh.
He nodded, chuckling,Ā ā€œIt sounds stupid, I know, but itā€™s like- huge. Especially since technically Iā€™m getting back into the main lore now, with the whole project: vegas thing.ā€Ā 
ā€œProject Vegas?ā€ You asked.Ā 
He nodded again,Ā ā€œMy character, heā€™s been through almost everything that's happened, and everything always ends to blow up in his face, literally sometimes. Heā€™s built contries from the ground up- as stupid as that sounds- but they always fail, but this one wonā€™t fail.
ā€œIā€™m partnering with another guy on the server to set up a whole economy, heā€™s making a bank, and Iā€™m making- well Iā€™m making my own Vegas.ā€Ā 
You took a sip of your drink,Ā ā€œWhatā€™s it going to be called?ā€Ā 
ā€œI havenā€™t figured it out yet,ā€ He admitted,Ā ā€œI wanted to just call it Las Vegas but the names already taken.ā€
With a chuckle you shifted in your seat,Ā ā€œWhat about....- what about Las Nevada's?ā€Ā 
He laughed,Ā ā€œI like that.ā€Ā 
ā€œTell me more about this server then, I still donā€™t understand the story.ā€Ā 
With another chuckle he launched into the story,Ā ā€œWell, it all started when this guy called Wilbur Soot decided he wanted to start a nation....ā€
~~ 3:18am
ā€œBlue.ā€Ā 
You were back at the hotel now, still with Quackity, sitting out on the balcony of his room. Some how, you had ended up having some slightly deep talk about life and death and a million other things before lapsing into silence, simply watching the blinking lights of the city.Ā 
ā€œWhat?ā€ He asked softly.Ā 
ā€œYou asked me my favorite color, ten minutes after we met. Itā€™s blue- that's my favorite color.ā€ You shivered against a cold breeze.Ā 
Alex shifted minutely closer,Ā ā€œWhy?ā€Ā 
You shrugged,Ā ā€œIt can be so many things. Deep and dark and mysterious but also light like the summer sky and filled with hope. Thereā€™s a million shades from happiness to anger, and to everyone it could mean something else.ā€Ā 
ā€œI like that.ā€ He said quietly.Ā 
~~
7:04am
You yawned, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as the car drew closer to the airport.
Alex tapped on the steering wheel in time with the music, quietly humming along.Ā 
ā€œOh, I see my friend, they actually waited for me.ā€ You said as the car pulled up to the curb.Ā 
ā€œHow considerate.ā€ He chuckled, climbing out of the car.Ā 
You followed suit, retrieving your duffle bag from the back seat.Ā 
ā€œWell, it was cool knowing you Alex.ā€ You said.Ā 
ā€œLikewise.ā€Ā 
Before you started to walk away you remembered, and quickly turned back to where he was standing, pulling Albert out of your bag,Ā ā€œHere, heā€™s yours. You spent more tickets on him than I did.ā€Ā 
He shook his head,Ā ā€œKeep him. I give you full custody of our son.ā€Ā 
ā€œOh- okay... bye then.ā€Ā 
You barley made it a few steps before he was quickly catching up to you, grabbing your arm and spinning you to press his lips on yours.Ā 
ā€œGood luck with your shitty friends.ā€ He breathed, before hurrying back to his car, leaving you flustered and running to catch up to your friend.Ā 
~~
One and A Half Months later
It had been over a month since the Vegas trip, but you still hadnā€™t gotten Alex out of your head.Ā 
You had clicked, on some level, and the late night conversation you had shared seemed to keep you thinking about him.
Now, you scrolled aimlessly through twitter, checking the trending tags until you came across one calledĀ ā€œLAS NEVADASā€Ā 
Now that piqued your interest, and clicking on it, you found posts of people live tweeting an event- no a live stream. And not just any live stream- a Minecraft stream.
Quickly you opened a new tab, pulling up twitch as fast as you could.Ā 
What was the name of his channel? Oh god why did you forget?
Returning to twitter you searched until you found a link, following it to a new twitch tab.Ā 
And there he was.Ā 
The boy who had been doing laps around your mind was actually there, talking to another character.Ā 
ā€œLook Sam, you and me, we could control everything. I need the bank to help fund Las Nevadaā€™s, we can be partners.ā€Ā 
You sat, watching the stream, enthralled.Ā 
Once it had ended, you still could hardly believe you found him, quickly following another link back to his twitter and opening a direct message.Ā 
Y/n: Um, this is awkward, idk if you remeber this, but we met in vegas, about a month ago, and I had no idea how to find you until the stream today
quackityHQ: uh, hi?Ā 
qusckityHQ: proof?
Quickly you sent him the picture you had taken of him with Albert,Ā 
y/n: uhhh, bam, proof?Ā 
y/n: our son is sitting on my head board right now
quackityHQ: holy shit
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twinklelilstarkey Ā· 4 years ago
Text
Bad Day - Nolan Patrick
Words: 2.2k+
Type: Fluff and slight Angst
Summary: You and Nolan are very different. Your bubbly personality is something that does contrast with his own. Yet he finds himself lost when that so happy person loses her spark after a hard and sad day.
Warnings: A lot of crying over college stuff (negative grades, overworking, etc.). Affectionate reader. Slight mentions of blood (from falling).
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You and Nolan have been dating for almost 2 years, now. Some people do agree that your relationship was quite odd when it began, but those who are the closest noticed how much you two belonged together.
The surprise behind your relationship is mostly around the topic of how your personalities are nothing alike. You are this loud, bubbly, excited and happy human being, and youā€™re dating this silent, introverted, deep-voiced man. He, obviously, isnā€™t so silent when heā€™s with his friends or you only, but people still describe him as so.
Sure, you understand the shock but you two truly love each other. And that should be the only thing that matters, right?
You and Nolan arenā€™t exactly very active on social media. Yet you post more pictures of yourself than he does. And just by your feed, people seem to notice how different you two are.
Some people find it cute, while others not all that much. So you two try to limit as much posts with the two of you together as possible. And even though that comes with a lot of rumoring of you breaking up, youā€™re just, honestly, trying to minimalize the hateful words you usually receive.
But, yes, you two are very different.Ā 
You can notice that in how the two of you interact with each other. Nolan, being this more closed off person, doesnā€™t seek that much physical and affectional touch. Not as much as you, surely.
You hug him, cuddle him, snuggle onto him, kiss him, play with his hair, and so on. And you do that while battling his whines right in your ear of how he didnā€™t want to cuddle at that moment.
Bad thing for him, you look right through his shit. This man loves when you hug him, kiss him, play with his hair, etc.. He just doesnā€™t like to admit it.
Your affection doesnā€™t really leaves your apartment, since you two arenā€™t both two big fans of PDA. But, hand holding or hugging his arm close to you when itā€™s cold, is almost always happening when out of the house. Again, he doesnā€™t mind it at all.
And thatā€™s literally how your relationship works - one whines and the other gives hugs.
Yesterday was a Sunday, and it went particularly well. It was Nolanā€™s day off, so he spent most of his day playing video games with his friends. You worked on an assignment while sitting next to him, and once when you were done, you sat in Nolanā€™s lap, ignored his protests - which lasted 10 seconds - and just fell asleep against his chest, completely exhausted with everything youā€™ve been doing for college.Ā 
You honestly thought this week wouldnā€™t be all that bad since it doesnā€™t all that much going on. Weekend was good, and that usually was enough to set the mood for the rest of the days.
But, you thought wrong. Very wrong.
You went to college around the same time Nolan went to practice, you had breakfast together and everything was good. But that was until your teachers started to announce that they already had the grades of some tests and assignments.
In two of your 3 classes, today, a teacher gave you a grade. Both of them negative grades.
The worst part? You thought these were the two evaluations that had gone well and seemed pretty easy when you did them.
If this is your results to the ā€˜easyā€™ ones, what about the ones that you, actually, struggled with?
After college, you walked back to your apartment, eyes already covered with tears over your failed evaluations, and right as youā€™re about to get home, you trip over your own feet.Ā 
Right when you looked down at Nolanā€™s text.
Even though nobody was in the street to see it, you felt more than humiliated. Your knee was now painted in dark red over the fresh wound, from your fall, and you were in pain.
This is just a whole recipe for disaster.
When you got home, Nolan was still not back. And that just helped you with wanting to break down more as you walked through lobby of your home.Ā 
Itā€™s usual warmth welcomed you home but it did not provide any sort of comfort.
You went into your phone to try and distract your mind by scrolling through social media or looking at pictures with your friends and Nolan. But from not the lack of social media in these last few days, you let your eyes focus on old notifications popping up, comments, which are a few days old.Ā 
All of them negative.
From how you were using Nolan for his money or fame, to how unlucky he is to be dating someone like you. Insults were just scattered all throughout your feed.Ā 
As if your day could get any worse.
After half an hour of crying, you were able to force yourself into taking care of your nasty wound. Yes, there were some more tears and sobs here and there.Ā But you feel more calm than before.
You ended up not texting Nolan since you were too preoccupied after your fall to remember anything. And he found it strange.Ā 
He had just texted you saying that practice was over when he got off the ice, and since then, he hasnā€™t received anything.Ā 
He kept on checking his phone. He checked it when he took his gear off, after he showered, when he got dressed, etc.. He kept on doing it, and still nothing.
And now, you are laying on your bed, in way more comfortable clothes, and under your comfortable and fluffy duvet and a blanket over your head. Your lap top is right next to your head and only your face isnā€™t shielded from any colder temperatures.
Tears would make their way back to you in between every few seconds while you force your mind to focus on a random video of reality show highlights. Itā€™s like you canā€™t really control your body anymore.Ā 
Constantly reminding you of your failures as you keep on trying to focus on something else. But nothing. Nothing is working.
Over the loud background music and the dramatic screaming from your lap top, you donā€™t hear the front door of your apartment opening.
Nolan stands by the door, closing it behind him. He walks slowly to your living room, finding an empty couch. He checks the kitchen, still nothing. So he walks to your bedroom.
Itā€™s awfully strange to not have you right around the corner to welcome him home. He had never noticed it before, but it had become apart of his routine already.
He opens the bedroom door slowly and his eyes finally find you. The slight creak of the door makes you look away from the screen and look up to find your boyfriend staring down at you.
To Nolanā€™s confusion, you didnā€™t do your usual ritual of when you spot him. You didnā€™t get up from your bed and gave him a kiss or a hug, you just continued to lay there.
Your eyes go back to the screen, fighting off your tears once more, and you hear Nolan start taking his shoes off.
He doesnā€™t say anything, filling the room in its natural silence, and walks to your side of the bed.
ā€œScoot over.ā€ He whispers over the sound coming from your laptop.
You move your computer first, moving it to Nolanā€™s side of the bed, as you crawl to the middle. He slides under the duvet and blanket and you turn around, deciding to face him.
Nolan lays on his side, elbow on your pillow as he holds himself up and rests his face on his fist. His eyes are on you, studying your face, the way your eyes are slightly swollen and watery and how your lips seem to always curve in a small pout.
ā€œWhat happened?ā€ He whispers, not wanting to break the silence.
ā€œHad a bad day.ā€ You whisper back, blinking your tears away.
ā€œWas it college?ā€ He asks, you nod,Ā ā€œA test?ā€
You nod again and soon his face changes into a pitiful scowl. He feels bad for you, especially after yesterday, when you were so excited to finally have time for yourself. All of it ruined just because your grades are coming back to you as negatives.
ā€œThe other assignment I did, like, 2 weeks ago?ā€ You ask him to see if he remembers, and he nods,Ā ā€œFailed that one too.ā€
Your voice is broken, your chin is starting to shake. Youā€™re a blink away from breaking down again and Nolan feels so helpless. He wishes he could help you with college, but his knowledge in whatever degree youā€™re dating is close to nothing.
ā€œ-And I fell outside, too.ā€ You break his train of thought.
A dry chuckle escapes your lips as you bring your hands up to wipe away your tears, as if youā€™re forcing yourself to laugh at your problems.
ā€œOn the way home?ā€
You nod and wipe your tears again, soaking the ends of your sleeves.
ā€œMy day has just been so awful.ā€ Your voice breaks, making Nolanā€™s chest squeeze in pain at the sound of it alone.
Without knowing what to say, Nolan wraps one of his arms around you and pulls you in closer. The feeling that comes with not having you hug him back right away is strange. It almost makes him feel heartbroken.
As your face rests over Nolanā€™s shirt, itā€™s like your body just gives it all out. You start crying again, sobbing as you let all your worries out, mumbling some stuff youā€™re not even sure what they mean. And Nolan just holds you close, resting his head against yours while laying kisses over your cheek, neck or over your hair.
Itā€™s so hard to see you like this. It has happened before, it has, but itā€™s never this bad. Which doesnā€™t make it that easy to deal with.
Your sobs stop after some time, your breathing slows down back to normal and your body stops to shake. Nolan still holds you, comfortably smoothing your back with one of his hands over your sweatshirt.
You, finally, wrap one of your arms around his torso and just rest your body against his a little, while in complete silence.
ā€œWhenā€™s your next test?ā€ Nolan asks against the skin of your temple.Ā 
ā€œIn 4 weeks.ā€ You answer.
ā€œAny assignments between today and that test?ā€ He asks and you shake your head,Ā ā€œOkay, so you have more than enough time to get prepared and do amazing on that test.ā€
A sudden warm, giddy feeling runs through you at his words, yet you only nod at what he says.
ā€œI wish I could help you study, but Iā€™m clueless with half of the words in your notes.ā€ He jokes and your lips curve into a grin,Ā ā€œI can always be your reminder to go back to studying?ā€
ā€œYouā€™re going on a roadie next week.ā€
He shrugs.
ā€œI can still call.ā€
You smile and lean your face back onto his chest.
ā€œWhat about that fall? Are you okay?ā€ He asks, lifting his head again to take a look at your face.
ā€œIā€™m okay, now, yeah. It was just really embarrassing,ā€ You answer back.
Thereā€™s a quick silence and you lift your chin to stare up at Nolan.
ā€œDid something else happen?ā€ He asks, just to make sure.
You do a quick shrug.
ā€œNo- I mean,ā€ You correct yourself,Ā ā€œI did check my Instagram after getting home...ā€
ā€œAnd... what happened?ā€
ā€œJust- The usual stupid comments.ā€ You whisper at him.
He analyzes your face for a few seconds and brings his hand up, wiping with his thumb the rest of the tears under your eyes.
ā€œI know I shouldnā€™t have looked at them,ā€ You scold yourself,Ā ā€œBut I didnā€™t exactly do it on purpose. They were just... there, when I wanted to look back at some pictures.ā€
Nolan nods understandingly and rests his hand against your cheek, cupping it as his thumb caresses your skin continuously.
ā€œWhat type of pictures?ā€
ā€œLike, with our friends or just the two of us,ā€ You shrug, again,Ā ā€œI was just looking for something to cheer me up, you know?ā€
He nods at you and a small grin lifts over your lips.
He doesnā€™t scold you in any way. Doesnā€™t judge you for being stuck in the middle of the hateful comments that donā€™t do nothing but bring others down. He sometimes finds himself in those black holes without even realizing, and when they do bring him down, youā€™re there for him to remind him who he really is. Not letting the comments get to him. He canā€™t do anything else but the same. Return the favor.
ā€œDo you feel better now?ā€ He says at a low voice, almost in a whisper.
ā€œA bit, yeah.ā€ You nod,Ā ā€œThank you.ā€
ā€œNo need to thank me.ā€ He answers.
In the comfortable silence and under his smoothing and loving touch, you prop yourself up with one arm, so your face is in front of Nolanā€™s, and you peck his lips. Itā€™s a quick kiss, but one that makes you grin back at him.
ā€œI love you.ā€ You tell him.
ā€œI love you too.ā€
You kiss again but this time, he holds the back of your neck, pulling you in closer to him, making the kiss longer and letting it actually evolve into something more than a peck.
You kiss him back as his lips start to move against yours and your, only vacant, hand find its way to his side, almost as if pulling him in closer to you, even though youā€™re already glued together.
Nolan pulls back and looks back at you for a second.
ā€œWant to go get lunch and then watch a movie?ā€ He asks and your smile finds itself back on your face.
ā€œI would love that.ā€
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Is this good? I wrote it in between classes, while bored, so I hope itā€™s not too awful.
*First time writing for Nolan... I just had to do it, okay?*
372 notes Ā· View notes
ve1vetyoongi Ā· 4 years ago
Text
wherever you will go | jjk
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Pairing:Ā Jungkook x female reader
Genre:Ā actor!oc, director!jungkook, smut, angst, humour.
Word count: 21k
Summary:Ā  Not much happens when you grow up by the coast. Tourists come and go, the theatre where you work shows the same shows over and over and thereā€™s always sand and salt in the air. Your dreams of making it big in the city are exactly that: dreams. When your hopes of becoming an actress are shattered into a million pieces, you find yourself getting drawn to a captivating up-and-coming movie director by the name of Jeon Jungkook. With his bright eyes and charming smile, he seems determined to glue your pieces back together -- even if it means leaving Ocean City behind for good.
Warnings: themes of loss/grief, mentions of death of a parent, dom!jungkook, dom/sub themes, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving).
Rating:Ā Mature.
A/N: Hello loves! HAPPY JK DAY!! This fic is a lil celebration of our golden boy Jungkook so I hope you enjoy!! This whole fic is sickeningly fluffy and reads like a pretentious YA novel but ya girl wrote this while she was stuck in quarantine a few weeks ago and I debated not posting this bc I lowkey love it lowkey hate it so pleasedonthateme if itā€™s bad LOL. Also -- just incase you havenā€™t read the warnings already there is a running theme that deals with the loss of a parent (a topic very close to my heart, hence why this piece was especially healing to write.) so reader discretion is advised if that is triggering to you in any way shape or form!!!! P.P.S Largely unedited so pls bare with any mistakes!
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Prelude.
You're late for your work shift, you note, as you catch sight of your watch face glaring up at you menacingly from the arm clutching the handle bars of your bike. As if your mood couldn't get any more miserable -- the dreary morning drizzle that falls from the sky and drips icily down the back of your nape was bad enough.
Goddamn, you groan to yourself as you will your feet to pedal ever faster. Now my hair is gonna be frizzy.
It's a Saturday and the theatre where you work always opens earlier at the weekends. You promised you'd be on time today, but yet here you are, speeding down the worn in sandy sidewalks of your seaside town a whole block away when you should've been opening up half an hour ago.
It's a habit of yours, being late. And as hard as you try, you just can't change a habit. But it can't be helped you suppose. Continuity is all you've ever known. That's the thing about living in a tiny seaside town. Things never change.
The view from your bedroom window has been the same for as long as you can remember ā€” Ocean City ā€” Aka, block after block of rainbow coloured houses with flaky paint leading up to the harbour where boats bob nonchalantly and fishermen reel in their catches beneath the gull filled sky. Beyond it the beach; greyish rolling waves and upturned pebbles nestled atop of hard sand in the winter and clear water and brightly coloured beach towels and brave surfers in the summer.
Nobody ever leaves, and the tourists that arrive in summer never stay. Life becomes a predictable practice, just each day lived out to the next in an endless cycle of never ending continuity. It's suffocating and endless and sometimes you feel like you're just a pawn on a giant chess board, destined to move one agonising square forward at a time, never diagonally. It's hard to change directions when you've been taught to stick to what you know.
You didn't always live here, in this town of continuity. You lived in the big city for a while, where no day was the same as another. But after your mother died you and your older brother were shipped off to live with your dad, who wouldn't know the definition of adapting if it hit him square in the face. He's always been the same square shouldered, balding dude in his forties who never wanted kids and never quite got over losing your mother to the big buck actor she ran off with when you were two.
So that's how you ended up here. Late for work at your job in the country's most prized vacation spot. And your boring reality.
You roll past the beach huts on the shoreline that alternate between vibrant pink and muted blue, barely paying attention to the boardwalk with its little boat house that stretches out into the horizon like a crooked finger. When it gets dark, you can spot the pier carnival lights flashing in the distance from here as they dance across the reflection of the pale white moon and play among the waves.
Even now, the yellow lights of the ornate street lamps that line the water's front shine like tiger's eyes against the sky just like they always have when you turn down the familiar route that takes you past the winding lanes of trinket shops and the happy hour bars and the carnival that feels strangely empty at such an early hour, not a single rollercoaster ride in operation.
Before long you're skidding to a stop outside of the The Crestmont, the old theatre where you work. It's everything you'd expect from a vintage cinema; pink and blue neon lights and a gold trimmed ticket booth out front with a three-sided marquee that extends from the front of the building like a brightly lit airport runway. You hurry beneath it, grateful for the protection it provides from the rain that has started to come down in lashes now, before heading over to the rack around the back of the building where you can chain your bike.
The Crestmont used to be somewhat of a hotspot back in the day or so your told, but these days it only shows cartoons at a discounted price for the neighbourhood kids and the occasional local production of some worn out musical everyone has seen a hundred times before. It's lost all it's magic, everyone says. But you disagree; you probably spend more time here than anyone, and there's magic in every inch of this place.
From the red velvet curtains to the grand chandelier, The Crestmont is one of a kind. Sometimes you disappear into the theatre by yourself for a while unbeknownst to your manager. You can almost taste the laughter and the tears and the love that has been spilled and shared unapologetically amongst these seats. Pure magic.
Your mom left a piece of herself here, too. If you close your eyes you can hear her laughter spilling out into the theatre, or her lilting singing voice filling every nook and cranny like a haunting siren. She was the Crestmont's star. Ocean City's sweetheart.
There's a wall of fame in the lobby. It's covered in portraits crested with gold frames, all filled with pictures of the Crestmont's greatest performers. You've spent hours there ā€” (turns out it's the perfect hiding spot from your manager) ā€” fingers tracing the plaques beneath each one, all inscribed with names that townsfolk whisper with dreamy looks in their eyes. Some are black and white, some colour, but all of them depict pretty faces with beaming smiles that never seem to fade.
Not even your mom's. Her smile is pearly and bright, right above the plaque with her birthdate. And her death date.
And right there at the end, an empty frame. Your frame. You can feel it. You already know how you'll pose for your picture. Hair over one shoulder, hand on hip, smile so convincing that it'll be like every happiness in your heart is written right across your forehead proudly, and you won't have to dull it any longer.
You finish hooking a chain around the handlebars of your bike, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened windows. Staring back at you is a girl dressed in a maroon v-neck with a preppy dicky bow tied around her collar. You frown. The white shirt itches and the high waisted pants make your crotch look weird but the uniform is compulsory. The only thing uglier is the sour expression on your face, which you try to smooth out with your thumb, experimenting with plastering a sickly smile to your face instead. It might be convincing if your lips didn't strain and your eyes weren't so prone to rolling without your permission.
You need to learn to hide your emotions, your father said. You have your feelings written across your face. Customers don't like that.
It's true; customer's didn't usually like you, your unforgiving face or when you spilled cola down their blouse or spat in their popcorn. One more complaint and you were on the path to being fired once and for all, and although in some ways you would be glad to say goodbye to the stupid slushie machine that always gets stuck and the ungrateful customers and the goddamn uniform, you can't loose this job.
Not when it's your ticket to making it big. Then customers will point to your picture as they pass and clutch their chest with a snide superiority, Oh! Can you believe she served me a cola once? I always knew she was gonna make it! instead of Would it kill you to smile a little, honey?
So you swallow a sigh and make your smile as convincing as possible and march inside of the ornate theatre doors of The Crestmont, hoping that today may be the day where things finally change for once.
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Where it begins
"I'm going to work!" You call as you you pull a baseball cap down over your hair to cover it's unbrushed wildness. "I won't be back for a while so don't wait up, okay Taehyung?"
You pause with your hand on the door, listening carefully for a response; the small house you live in pulsates with the bass of some indie rock album your brother and his friends are obsessed with at the moment, and your eyes roll when you peer up the staircase and find Taehyung's bedroom door firmly closed like always.
With a shake of your head you scribble out a message on a sticky note ā€” GONE 2 WORK. ā€” and leave it for him to read when he eventually emerges from his man cave in search of sustenance and finds you gone.
You brush away the funny ache that nestles in your stomach. This is nothing new. You're used to not being heard. Your dad is always gone for trips you suspect involve more play than work, and your older brother pretends he's not broken by hanging around with the neighbourhood cool kids and barraging himself in his room for days on end. Despite living under one roof it feels as though you're miles apart, an invisible barrier separating you indefinitely.
You weren't always like this; distant, always stepping on eggshells around each other. You were a family once. A happy one. But since the accident there's been an absence in this house, and nothing has been the same since.
Still, you know that beneath Taehyung's standoffish persona, he's still your big brother. He worries about you. So you tack the note to the fridge and make your way outside.
The lawn is already brown despite it only being late May, and summer is shaping up to be hot and sticky, though you live two blocks away from the beach so the coolness of the ocean still thankfully pervades against your perspiring skin, the gulls already calling you with their high pitched squaks from down at the shoreline.
You've barely made it to the end of the drive before there's the sound of knuckles rapping against glass. You look up and your heart jumps into your mouth. Staring back at you is a pair of dark eyes from behind the upstairs windowpane. Even from this distance you can see how they shine, deep and dark like a cup of black coffee, and you'd recognise the annoyingly cute smirk that matches them anywhere.
Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung's best friend, and, unfortunately, your crush for as long as you knew what the word love meant.
"Hey, Y/N!" Your heart sinks when the window slides open and a messy head of brown hair sticks out through the gap and points at you with a pout. "You're leaving already? Without me?"
Oh; another thing about Jeon Jungkook. He's also your co-worker, which means you spend 16 hours a week in his company, much to the glee of your heart and the dismay of your conscience.
You weren't exactly surprised when you turned up to the Crestmont theatre for your first shift and were left in the capable hands of none other than Jungkook to teach you the ins and the outs of the popcorn machine and the ticket booth.
For as long as you've known him he's been somewhat of a film buff. He practically grew up holding a camera. You always used watch him and your brother making home movies in the backyard, fit with ketchup sachets for blood and endless costumes from your mom's closet. And the one time you stayed at his house when your dad went away for a while after the accident, you saw all the classic movie posters on his bedroom wall; Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Jaws. So it made total sense for Jungkook to be at the Crestmont. In fact, you couldn't imagine him anywhere else.
That day you were mostly just surprised that he knew who you were at all. While you had spent years watching him from your bedroom window while he kicked a ball around with Taehyung or avoiding his eyes at the table when he stayed for dinner, he had never so much as glanced in your direction.
Deep down you think the reason he was so quick to take you under his wing is because he knew first hand how hard the accident hit your family. You suppose he feels he owes it to Taehyung to keep you in high spirits.
Although if you weren't you and he wasn't him, you'd swear Jungkook's attentions had become almost flirtatious as of late. He always goes the extra mile to spend time with you, and you even though you know it'll end up with you getting hurt you can't bring yourself to stop him.
You see, Jungkook has a gift for subtle charm. Like how he always sneaks you sodas out back on your lunch break, never forgetting the extra syrup ā€” tooth rottingly sweet just how you like it ā€” slipping one of his own dollars into the cash register to avoid a telling off from your manager. Or how he insists on helping you clean up after the theatre is empty, showing you the best secret places like down the back off seats to find misplaced trinkets and the creaky floorboard where your manager hides his cigarettes. How he insists on walking you home after the evening shift, even if he says he's going this way to see Taehyung anyway.
You've spent countless hours pondering over whether his sweet talking words mean as much to him as they do to you. And as much as you know it's unlikely for someone like Jeon Jungkook to ever have feelings for you, you can't help the way your heart speeds up every time he shoots you one of his signature bunny smiles that light up his whole face like he's happiness personified. And you can't bring yourself to hate him for it.
"I did call," you respond matter of factly, finally sucking in a breath of courage to turn around and squint up at him through the afternoon sun with a shrug. "But that trash you're listening too was too loud for you guys to hear me."
Jungkook's eyes widen as he fumbles around beneath the windowsill and pops up again holding up a shiny vinyl record sleeve. You recognise it instantly; it's from his favourite film ā€” Submarine. He hardly ever shuts up about it.
"This is not trash. This is, like, the best movie soundtrack ever made!" He shakes his head as he takes the needle off of Taehyung's vintage record player, music ceasing with a scratch, and slips it into the sleeve with a grin. "Good thing I have it downloaded so we can listen to it on the way to work, hm?"
You roll your eyes and tap your foot impatiently, and at that, Taehyung appears behind him.
"You're leaving already?" He frowns, words directed at Jungkook even as he glances through narrowed eyes at you stood awkwardly on the front lawn.
"Yup. My shift starts in twenty." Jungkook shrugs, disappearing into the room for a second before he emerges again with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Sorry dude. I can come back afterwards though, if you want?"
Taehyung purses his lips. Even from here you can see the stress lines embedded in his forehead that make him look older than his humble age of nineteen, somehow weak unlike how you always saw him as a kid. Big and strong; untouchable; your brother.
His blunt eyes never quite meet Jungkook's as he shakes his head softly. "'S good. I was gonna try and sleep, anyway, before the sun goes down. Didn't get much shut eye last night. Not with the..."
Nightmares. Taehyung trails off, but you know that's what he's alluding to. The nightmares that turn your big strong brother into a sniffling mess in the dead of night, kicking around mercilessly until you sneak into his bed and whisper to him until he slips into slumber again. Not that you ever acknowledge it in the morning over your bowls of cereal and vacant good morning's.
"Okay." Jungkook's face momentarily falls; a rare occurrence from the boy who seems to be perpetually cheerful. He pats Taehyung on the shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"
Taehyung just nods, letting out a yawn as he rolls into a stretch. "See ya tomorrow."
You're jolted from your thoughts when Jungkook throws his left leg out of the window, then the other, arms bulging in just the right way where they poke out of the sleeves of his plain white tee as he climbs down the drainpipe and lands with a thump on the soles of his high top sneakers.
"Hey kiddo." He grins as he wipes the palms of his hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans, before messing up your hair despite your groan of protest.
"Don't call me that. You're only a year older than me."
You're startled when you meet the pair of warm eyes that glint golden brown in the summer evening light, chest contracting as you look away and break into a fast walk towards the street.
"And you know you can just use the front door right?"
You hear him snort behind you, neglecting to use the front gate and instead launching over the fence so he lands directly in front of you on the sidewalk.
"How am I supposed to impress my best friends little sister if I can't show off my guns?" He flexes his arm, but you just brush past him with a roll of your eyes.
"You're an idiot."
You hear the clunk of his bike chain unhooking from the gate, before a set of wheels pedal up on the sidewalk beside you. "Hey! Where are you going?"
"Uh, to work?" You offer bluntly, squinting at him through the sun. "You should be too, we start in fifteen minutes."
"I mean why are you walking? What happened to your bike?"
You roll your eyes. "Some tourist kids slashed the wheels at the beach."
"Shit. Really?" Jungkook tuts, but you don't miss the glint in his eye as he nods towards the pegs on the back of his bike that were made for carrying a passenger."Then I guess it's my lucky day. Hop on, we can ride together."
You come to a standstill, arms crossed tightly. "I'd rather walk."
"Oh come on!" He wiggles his eyebrows. "It'll take double the time if we go on foot, and I recall it being you who got a final late warning last week."
"If we go on foot?" You laugh breathily, determined to stand your ground. "Just go on ahead, I'm good here."
"Well, I'm not exactly going to leave you here alone on the side of the road now am I? So I'll be forced to walk with you. And I'm older than you remember? Look, I'm already out of breath! My legs aren't what they used to be, y'know."
"Fine!" With a pout you take the helmet resting in his front basket and hook it underneath your chin, biting your lip to stop a smile from gracing your lips at the excitement that lights up Jungkook's features. "But only because I want you to shut up."
"Your wish is my command." He says with a pat to your head. "Hold on tight, okay?"
And as you wrap your arms around his waist, you're sure his ears heat up a deep shade of red, even it could just be the evening light playing tricks on you.
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The theatre at the Crestmont feels eerily quiet when its empty.
You know that because even though your shift was supposed to end at 5, you offered to stick around to help clean up after today's performance. Phantom of the Opera.
"Jesus," You groan as you pick up another sticky soda cup that someone had kindly spilled all over the ground for you to clean up, dropping the offender into a black trash bag. "Doesn't anyone around here know how to use a trash can?"
You fall into one of the theatre seats with a sigh and run your fingers over the scarlet velvet, worn yet plush, the texture soothing you instantly. You tilt your head back and let the silence engulf you. No orchestra, no musical numbers, no stage crew shouting directions. No whirring cotton candy machine. Just you and the stage.
From here you can see every detail on the high ceiling littered with renaissance-style paintings of mermaids and babies armed with heart shaped bow and arrows. Your mom was an actress. When you were a kid you used to spent hours staring at them while she rehearsed. You were convinced they came alive once the theatre closed up for the night, their cheeky smiles evidence of a secret only you knew.
A trail of rainbows is cast by the grand chandelier hung in the center, and it draws your attention all the way down the aisles and up to the stage.
The Crestmont is only small, fitting perhaps 200 people at most. It's hardly Broadway. But the fire in your chest ignites as you glance side to side before sidling up the creaking wooden steps that wind up to the Crestmont's center stage. Your favourite part of the whole theatre.
It's not the first time you've done this. You often like to come up here after everyone has gone home, even though you technically aren't supposed to. There's a certain magic about being alone up here as you collect the lone roses that were thrown on stage by tonight's audience. Breathing in the musty smell of butter popcorn that lingers on the velvet curtains, feel the warmth of the bright stage lights glazing your skin. Something about it feels like home.
The first time you ever saw the Crestmont stage was on tv, watching a grainy camera shakily capture your mom in the very same spot you find yourself right now.
Your mom used to have a cardboard box filled with her old audition tapes. Everything from Hamlet to A Streetcar Named Desire, she'd starred in it, and you spent hours together in front of the television set trying to memorise the way she spoke your favourite lines and listening to her lilting voice recite backstage anecdotes about her rendezvous with foreign directors who dined on her in Paris or underground parties with celebrities you had never even heard of as she stroked your hair.
It wasn't until you got a little older that you realised that, just like you, your mom was a dreamer. Sure, she'd visited a couple different states and starred in some makeup commercials once, and that was enough to make her a celebrity in a town as small as this.
But really? She was just a small town actress with dreams larger than herself and way larger than the Crestmont where she made her name. And suddenly the gaps in time where she would disappear for weeks ā€” sometimes months ā€” on end no longer made sense to you. If she wasn't drinking cocktails with the prince of Monaco or clubbing in London, then where was she?
"Down town with those no good roadies," Taehyung told you once. "They made all these empty promises. Told her she'd make it big if she just did what they said. But look how that turned out."
That was the day you realised your mom was a better actress than you ever knew.
She always thought that her dreams would come true. She believed it so hard that you believed it too, naively. But who knows? Maybe they would have if she didn't get into an accident on her way to New York for her big break.
It's easy to imagine how your mom felt up here. She always looked so alive and free in those VHS tapes as she danced effortlessly across the stage with an ethereal weightlessness, the theatre silent except for the melodic sweetness of her monologues that drew tears to the eyes of those who listened eagerly.
If you close your eyes you can hear the roar of the crowd, hands clapping furiously. The orchestra tuning their brass in the pit, bows melodic against strings. Flowers landing at your feet. The deep breath of satisfaction as you take your final bow and the curtain closes.
Just like that you're moving across the stage, reciting the lines you know so well...
"You're gonna be a star like me some day," A voice whispers against your ear, soft and gentle. A memory. Your mom. "Just like me."
And just like that, she's there. In the audience, clapping. For you. And you feel invincible.
The sound of applause breaks you out of your trance. Real applause. You find yourself stood center stage, broom in hand, staring out at row after row of empty seats that gape with the same emptiness that was here when you arrived.
Except one of the velvet lined seats is filled now. Right at the front.
"Encore!" Jungkook whistles, the harsh thwacks of his palms clapping together clanging inside your ears. "Do it again! That was amazing!"
Your chest seizes painfully, a sudden bout of panic turning your blood cold. You feel the colour leave your face. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching?
Jungkook is watching you attentively, eyes soft at the edges with wonder. It makes bile rise in your throat. You can't be up here. Not when there's a pair of eyes looking at you, judging.
"I..." You begin, but the words get caught in your throat.
"I can't do this."
The way Jungkook's eyes widen and he lurches forward to catch you is the last thing you see before your vision goes black.
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The boardwalk is strangely quiet for a summer evening. It's happy hour so you suppose most vacationers are already in the bars in their I LOVE OCEAN CITY T-shirts drinking cocktails or whatever. Not that you're complaining.
The smell of hotdogs and vinegar from the vans that line the strip still fill the air, snatches of conversations from children begging their parents to let them go on the waltzer one last time barely audible above the tinkling bells of the carousel. The ride operators drink soda's as they fan themselves with rolled up newspapers, grateful for the gentle hubbub on such a sticky evening, and then there's you, caught up in the middle of it all.
The wooden boards of the pier are warm against he backs of your thighs. You're sat with your legs dangling through the peeling guard rail that lines the strip. It was painted pastel blue at some point but years of sea spray and grubby hands made it fade to a sickly green tinge that matches the ocean.
Speaking of, the ocean would usually be directly below your feet, murky and wild, but today the tide has receded right back to reveal a large strip of sand. The stands suspending the pier rest on top of it so that you could walk right under and around them if you wanted to. You and Taehyung used to do that all the time when you were kids. Searching for barnacles. Exploring the dark places.
"Here. Eat up. You totally passed out on me back there. You could probably do with some sugar."
The soft voice beside you is the only thing loud enough to permeate your daydreams. You don't have look up to know who it belongs to. Jungkook.
He peers down at you, sun beating down against his back. He's holding two vanilla ice cream cones, double scooped, and he thrusts one into your hands before mirroring your position at the edge of the boardwalk.
The walk down here from the Crestmont was more or less silent, and your stomach twists now you realise Jungkook wants to talk.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing." You lie. The ice cream is cold and sweet and covers the bitterness. "I just think it's funny."
Jungkook's tongue sneaks out to lick up the melted cream dribbling down his cone. "What is?"
"How this place stays the same but I feel so different." You were born here, raised here. This place was your whole life once, with it's salty air and bustling casino's. But since the accident, something's been bubbling inside you, swelling and crashing like the ocean below that taunts you and you've never felt farther from home in your life as you do now, looking out over the town that just won't budge, just like the funny ache in your chest. "Forget I said it. I don't know why I'm even telling you this."
Jungkook fidgets beside you and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh."It's okay, y'know. To miss her."
Your mom. You know that's who he means. Just the mention of her stings.
"Mhm." You snort. "Tell that to my family. If we all carried on missing mom then we'd be in pretty hot shit by now."
"If it's Taehyung you're worried about, then don't be. He's stronger than he looks."
"Until he's not anymore. And we lose him again just likeā€”" You pause. You hate how you can hear the pain in your voice so you smooth it out. "Just like before. And I can't let that happen. I won't."
Jungkook shifts. As Taehyung's oldest friend he was there for everything in the aftermath of the accident. He was there when you put on a brave face for the sake of your family. He was there when Taehyung couldn't be any more.
"That doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. Think about it this way. The ocean isn't always this calm right?" He gazes wistfully out over the ocean that swells and crashes against the shore, fingers twirling the gold chain around his neck. "Last winter when we had that huge storm, the waves were so big they smashed right through the pier support beams."
You furrow your brows. "What about it?"
"The ocean was just too much for the pier to bare and it would've come crashing down forever if half the neighborhood didn't come down to the beach in the dead of night, despite the rain, and hold it together until the storm calmed and the emergency repair boats could get to shore."
It's true. You remember how unforgiving the rain was as it pelted down against your back and froze you through to the bone that night as each and every familiar face from your neighborhood came down to the seafront to lend a hand, your family included.
Jungkook was there too. He was the one who knocked on your door in the early hours to spread the word. He got given free churros for life by one of the pier stall owners as a reward.
"What I'm trying to say Y/N, is that Taehyung has you to lean on, right? So who do you have?" Jungkook says, staring at you head on now. His sincerity almost makes you blush.
You bite your lip. Deep down you know that your beams are just as broken as Taehyung's and it's only a matter of time before they come crashing down into the water, and this time there'll be nobody to hold the pieces together.
"I don't need anyone. I'm just fine on my own. I can handle my ocean."
Jungkook brushes your hand. You flinch, so he pulls it back into his lap. "Well if you ever need a life boat, then you know where I am okay?"
You don't believe him, but he's staring at you so expectantly that you just tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at that.
"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."
Children's laughter bubbles up from the beach. You watch their distant silhouettes dancing among the waves. It's Jungkook who breaks the silence before it settles between you and becomes uncomfortable.
"Anyway, what were you doing up there on the stage today?" He smiles, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were having the time of your life beforeā€”"
You feel your cheeks start to burn. How long had Jungkook been watching you at the Crestmont? Had he seen the whole thing?
"It was nothing. I was just being dumb."
"Nothing?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side and punches you playfully. "It didn't seem like nothing."
"It just...it makes me feel close to my mom when I'm on the stage." You admit. "I loved watching her when I was a kid. She was always larger than life in my eyes. She had this way of making you really believe she was someone else. It was like she wasn't just acting -- she was becoming. Sometimes...sometimes I think I liked her better when she was in character."
You shake your head with a small smile. "I like me better when I'm in character. I used to dream about going to New York one day and becoming an actress just like she wanted to. Small town girl making it big in the city and all that." You scoff. "But I'm nothing like her. It's just fun to pretend sometimes."
"You're good. At performing. Like, really good." Jungkook's eyes are wide. When he places a hand on your forearm you don't shake it off this time. "You take after her. Everyone says it."
It's true. There's one photo of your mom in the house. It's in Taehyung's room. When you were younger you thought it was your face staring back at you from behind the glass. Sometimes you'll be walking down the boardwalk or serving soda's at work and you'll hear the whispers. See their heads turn. Is it her?
"Pfft. Looks mean nothing." You scoff. "She was fearless. I can't even speak in front of one person without passing out, let alone a crowd."
Realisation crosses Jungkook's face. "Oh. So that's what happened back there? Stage fright?"
"Uh huh." You roll your eyes. "So don't give me the follow your dreams spiel or whatever."
"Hmm." Jungkook uses his arms as a makeshift pillow so he can lay back against the ground. You mirror him, peering through your fingers to watch how the golden rays of the sun swallow his frame. "Remember that play they made us do in middle school?"
"The Nativity?" You raise your eyebrow. It was the first theatre production you were in, before the accident and way before you had stage fright.
"Yeah." He grins. "I was the sheep. Taehyung made fun of me for months afterwards because of that stupid costume my grandma made."
"Yeah." You snort. "You did look sorta dumb."
Jungkook bumps your arm with a playful pout that makes you giggle. "And do you remember how I forgot my lines on stage and nearly pissed myself with stage fright? God, I still remember how mad my dad looked in the front row. We'd practiced that part for weeks. I don't know why it happened. I just frozeā€”" A small smile forms on his lips. "But you didn't. Next thing I know there's a kid in a gold star of Bethlehem costume running on stage to recite my lines for me. You stole the show, remember that? Everyone loved you."
"That was then." You murmur, but you can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners or your mouth. "I'm not the same person."
"You were a year younger than the rest of my class but you auditioned anyway, because you knew that you were the only person who could play the star. Because you were a star."
Jungkook turns so that his head rests on his elbow and you're suddenly so close you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek. Your heart pumps in your ears as you gaze dips down to his rosy lips and back up to his sparkling eyes which bore into yours.
"You still are a star."
The words echo in your ears, soft and sincere. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips. You lose your breath. And then you jump away, placing a safe distance between your bodies before you can do something you regret.
"And what about you. Are you still a sheep?" You tease, turning your face so he can't see how it burns rosy red.
"Nah. Figured out pretty quickly after that that I was better off behind the camera." He chuckles.
"Oh right. You still have that thing?" You nod to the camera in his lap. It's one of those old ones that looks like the type that needs a film reel and a projector, but it's been modified so there's a little viewfinder at the side to check the footage instead. "Can I see?"
"What?" Jungkook blinks.
"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"
"Oh! Right!" It's his turn to flush now, scratching the back of his neck as he anxiously thrusts the camera into your hands and pays close attention to the hangnail at the edge of his thumb as you watch the footage.
Your eyes widen when a familiar scene rolls out on the tiny screen. You, on stage at the Crestmont. Jungkook filmed you.
"This is..."
"You." He rushes."Yeah, I know. Sorry if this is awkwardā€”"
"No. Not at all. I justā€”" You watch in awe as the you inside the camera moves across the stage with an effortless grace. How the lights make your eyes shine and your skin brighter than you remember it being in the mirror this morning. "How did you do that?"
Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"
"Make me look like...that."
"I didn't do anything." Jungkook shrugs. "That's just how I see you."
You could listen to him say that all day, but you stop yourself mid swoon.
"Don't say things you don't mean."
"I do mean it. And I'll show you." He wiggles his eyebrows.
"How?"
He grabs your hand and squeezes it. Tight. "I don't know how yet but I will."
You roll your eyes. "Good luck, Jeon."
"You know I like a challenge." Jungkook laughs, and the melodic sound goes right to your chest. "I'll make you see yourself how I see you. Just wait."
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"Since when did you have four wheels?" You call to Jungkook with a quirk of your brow, resting your elbows on the window ledge of the beat up truck he pulls up in outside the Crestmont.
It's a sticky August afternoon and the rusty red vehicle purrsā€” or more like splutters ā€” in the parking lot as Jungkook untangles your bike from the rack and lifts it into the cargo bed like it's weightless. Just yesterday he came by with his pump and a patch to fix that goddamn slashed tyre, and now he's stealing it?
"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?"
He is clad in nothing but a white vest and board shorts, and you can see perspiration glimmering at his temples as the salty breeze blowing from the beach ruffles the dark curls that flop over his forehead.
"This is my dad's truck," His eyes flash with pride as he hops into the open drivers side door and makes the engine growl. He nods to the empty seat beside him and pushes his dark round sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, fanning his face with his hands. "And you won't be needing your bike today. Now hurry up and get in, loser. I've been waiting ages for your shift to finish and the AC is broken."
You raise a brow. "We're going somewhere?"
"Yeah. Why else would I be waiting for you to get in my truck?"
"I mean, we're going somewhere in this?" You nod towards the truck's worn tires, the fumes that wisp from the exhaust pipe like a lit cigar. "Are you sure it's safe?"
Jungkook notices the way you bite your lip. You don't even have to tell him the worries that are running through your mind. It's as if he can read them like an open book.
"Are you still scared of riding in cars?" He questions, softly.
You nod. That's what an accident does to someone. Makes them scared of something they ordinarily wouldn't even question.
"A little." The breeze ruffles your hair and you hide behind it. "I'm getting better." You add, so he doesn't feel bad because you know he does. His face tells you as much.
"It's a short drive, if that helps." He rushes. "And I asked Taehyung and he said you'd be okay, but if you aren't then I can just walk you homeā€”"
"No." You shake your head firmly. There's a funny fizzing in your stomach that's been there ever since that day on the boardwalk, and it's only growing stronger and stronger now you're inches away from Jungkook and his warm eyes and gentle smile. You don't want it to end just yet. It's enough to outweigh the wriggling fear that's always inside you just a little. "Where are we going?"
Jungkook's face lights up and your heart flips when you realise it's because of you.
"I told you I was gonna make you see what I see, didn't I?"
"Oh that was today?" You tease. "Must have missed it it in the calendar."
"Stop asking questions! Just get in. Please?"
"Fine." You walk around to the passenger door, sliding in beside him and throwing your bag into the back seat. "But I need to be home by midnight or Taehyung will worry."
"No problemo." Jungkook salutes as he switches on the engine and the truck roars to life. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap and breathe through your nose. You're okay. You're safe."Home by midnight. It's a promise."
You gaze out of the window to stop your thoughts from running wild. Jungkook turns left, away from town and the beach and everything familiar. You watch it get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, strangely relieved. Strangely excited.
"Now will you tell me where we're going?" You ask.
"Nope." Jungkook chuckles when you pout. "Just sit back. Relax. Take in the view. Listen to the music."
He leans across the dash, making a point to keep his eyes on the road as he fiddles with the stereo. A familiar string of guitar chords fill the truck. You recognise them, even if vaguely. Probably from Taehyung's vast collection of records.
"The Beatles right?" You ask, resting your chin on your knee as you dare to take a peek at him, blushing when you find him already staring at you.
"Pfft, yeah. Of course it's The Beatles! Only their greatest soundtrack, like, ever."
You shrug. "I've never listened to them before, so I wouldn't know."
"Oh come on? You haven't seen A Hard Day's Night?" His eyes widen when you shake your head. "Super Fly? Pulp Fiction? Purple Rain?"
You stifle a giggle at the look of pure shock he's sending you. "Nope. Should I have?"
"Absolutely!" He splutters. Passion shines in his eyes. "You're missing out on some of the greatest cinematography known to man!"
"I guess you have a lot to fill me in on, then."
"I sure do." His eyes soften. "Open the glove box."
You open it. Inside you find an assortment of cassette tapes, old and new. You send him a curious look.
"Close your eyes and choose one." He nods. "Go on."
You do as he says and shut your lids tightly, feeling around until your fingers curl around a tape you're strangely drawn to. When you open your eyes you find a worn box in your palm, yellow at the edges, and you're momentarily disappointed until Jungkook hums in approval beside you.
"Good choice! Dirty Dancing. A classic." He takes it from you and slides the tape into the stereo. It crackles a little before the music starts. "Trust me, you'll love it."
The stereo tracklist flashes amber. 01: Do You Love Me?
"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance," Jungkook sings along in a deep voice, eyebrows bouncing as you loll your head to the side to send him an eye roll. "And now I'm back to let you know I can really shake 'em down!"
The song starts, all vibrant guitar and drums. It has a funky 60's groove, like it belongs in a swing dancing club instead of on the highway at sunset. It's a happy song and you think it suits Jungkook just right.
Speaking of Jungkook, he starts to bob his head in time with the beat, fingertips tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. He looks adorably dorky, losing himself to the song, like he's forgotten you're even sat beside him.
"You look like an idiot." You deadpan, though you can't cover the laugh that escapes you as he sings along louder.
"No, I look like I'm having fun!" Jungkook rolls down the window and turns up the music so loud he has to shout for you to hear him. "Don't you ever do this? Just give in to the music for a while? Let your body do what it wants?"
"Uh, no. I prefer to just listen." You shout back. "Besides, your body should be focused on driving this car right now--"
"Oh come on! Just try it."
"Try it?" You blink, stomach suddenly knotting."Like now? In front of you?"
"Well duh. Look. Copy me."
He starts to shake his shoulders from side to side, fingers clicking as he nods for you to do the same.
"I...okay." You start to copy, but you catch yourself in the rear view mirror and you just look stiff compared to how effortlessly Jungkook moves to the rhythm.
"See you're doing it!" Jungkook grins, throwing his head back. "Feels good huh?"
"Kinda..." You have to admit there is something liberating about just letting go. "Like this?"
Your knees volunteer themselves to the beat, and then your arms, and before you know it you've got your eyes closed, hair whipping around your face as you speed down the interstate
"That's it. Feel the music!"
Before you know it, the song ends and you realise all at once that you're laughing. Loud and free, enough to make your belly hurt. Jungkook is too, the sound better than any song you've ever heard, and neither of you can seem to stop.
"Oh my god." You pant, covering your face with your fingers, embarrassed. "Now we both look like idiots."
"Don't hide from me." Jungkook bites his lip. You're suddenly aware of how close he is. His arms grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face, but he doesn't drop the one closest to him. Instead he links your fingers and uses your shared grip to change the gear as he turns down a winding road.
"I'm shy." You say, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.
"Why? You're beautiful." Jungkook puts the car into park. You realise all at once that you've been driving for ages and you didn't even panic once. "Besides, we've arrived. And you're not gonna wanna miss seeing this."
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The destination Jungkook seems so excited about turns out to be a concrete parking lot.
"Where are we, Jungkook?" You ask, looking around but finding nothing but tyre tracks and dirt.
Jungkook has already hopped out of the drivers side, sliding over the hood of the car to tug open your door with a quirk of his brow.
He holds out his palm, upturned and calloused. "Do you trust me?"
You bite your lip, heart pounding. Do you trust him?
Your body speaks for you and you slide your hand into his. His thumb traces your knuckles reassuringly.
"Yes." You breathe. "I trust you."
"Good."
You yelp when an arm wraps around your waist and hoists you out of the car, tightly interlocked fingers blocking your vision like a makeshift blindfold. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."
"Okay." You giggle, feet stumbling as you try to find your balance with the help of a sturdy hand beneath your elbow.
Jungkook hums gently beneath his breath as he guides you up a path that turns from concrete to loose rock to dampened grass beneath the soles of your beat up sneakers. There's a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to be nervous; who knows where he could be taking you right now.
But as you breathe in the musty notes of his cologne and feel your heart flutter in your chest when he comes to a stop and rests his chin on your shoulder, just close enough to feel his laugh ghost across your neck, you don't care where in the world you are right now as long as it's beside him.
"Now, open."
The sun is startlingly bright when you open your eyes for the first time and see the vibrant meadow that stretches as far as you can see.
Wait ā€” that's not the sun. It's sunflowers. Clusters of them, cheerfully waving with the breeze from where you stand on the path that continues for a few steps before it disappears among their stems.
The sunflowers are a burst of golden colour against the fading green of the meadow, and the horizon beyond that which boasts the silhouette of beach rock against the soft blue of the ocean at sunset. There's tracks here and there where the uncut grass is trampled, like some children had played hide and seek.
You reach out a hand and brush your fingertips over the velvety petals; breathe in the botanical scent of the fresh sunny blooms that dances through the meadow. It's breathtaking, you think. There's no coordination, just freedom choreographed by the wind as the tall stems sway back and forth in their gentle dance.
Before you know it you've taken off into a run, grinning with childlike glee when the tall grass tickles your nose and the sun whispers against your neck.
"Jungkook, this place isā€”"
"Beautiful right?" You nod breathlessly, blushing deeply when you come to a stop and find him staring right at you. He squeezes your hand and that's when you notice your fingers are still interlinked. "I come here a lot. When I need to think."
"How did you find this place?"
"Taehyung and I stumbled upon it a few summers ago by accident." He says. "Nobody knows about it. It's our secret."
"It's so beautiful." You whisper. "The whole world needs to see this."
Jungkook kicks at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I kinda like it being a secret. This place...is special to me."
"Then why...." The words get caught in your throat. You swallow and try again. "Why did you bring me here?"
"I wanted to show you the things I find most beautiful. Remember?"
"The sunflowers?"
"Well yeah..." He scratches the back of his neck. Swallows thickly, like he's preparing himself. "But I was thinking of something a little different..."
You close your eyes, a smile appearing on your lips as you let the crisp breeze caress your face. "Then what?"
There's a sharp click of a shutter, and when your lashes flutter open in surprise, Jungkook is shaking a Polaroid picture back and forth, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.
"Hey! Give me thatā€”" You reach for the Polaroid, stomach churning with a sudden shyness that makes you hug your arms.
"Just ā€” don't do that okay?" He holds it out of reach, pleading with his eyes. "Please."
"Do what?"
"Give up on what makes you happy just because you're scared." His palm cups your cheek. "You said it yourself. Being in front of the camera is where you belong. Don't you see that?"
"I'm not scared." You feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Jungkook sends you a knowing look. "Okay maybe I am scared. And so what if I am? You've already given me the face your fears spiel and I told you. I'm perfectly happy avoiding every camera known to man for the rest of my life if it means I never have to face them."
"But you've already faced one of your fears today. You got in my car, remember?" He raises an eyebrow, smug. "Well, two technically, 'cause you're here with me now and I know how nervous you used to get around me--"
"Did not!"
"Do too! Every time we talk outside of work you get all shy and--"
"Shut up."
"See! You're doing it right now!"
You don't know what compels you to do it. Maybe it's the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks or the way your heart quickens when Jungkook closes the gap between you, but before you can stop yourself you're reaching up and grasping his face with both hands.
"Oh just shut up and kiss me, doofus."
The smug smirk on Jungkook's face is replaced with wide eyed surprise, his lips falling still for a moment when yours crash against his. But then his steady hands find your waist and he supports you on your tip toes so he can pull you ever closer, melting into the plush press of your lips.
When you pull back, you're smiling. You can't help it. You've been dreaming of this moment since, like, middle school. And goddamn, he even tastes how you imagined. Like black coffee and toothpaste.
"See." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Happiness suits you."
"Whatever, Jeon." You smirk. "Don't let it go to your head, but it's thanks to you."
Jungkook flashes you the biggest bunny grin you've ever seen, eyes sparkling at your words.
"Wait...stay like that." He reaches for his camcorder in his backpack and points the lens at you. The smile falls from your lips. You place a hand on his arm, grip tighter than you intended.
"Jungkook stop."
"What's wrong? Just keep smiling like that, the shot was perfectā€”"
"I don't know what to do." You shrug, the lens boring into you like a judgy aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. "The camera makes me nervous."
"Just pretend I'm not here."
You sniff. "I don't want you to not be here..."
"Listen," Jungkook cups your face, thumbs tracing your cheeks fondly. "The reason I brought you here? It's because this place reminds me of you. Beautiful."
"Jungkook--"
"Just like you said, the world needs to see this place. Just like they need to see you."
"I..." Your heart is on the verge of exploding, you would swear it. "Okay." The word rolls off your tongue before you can stop it because somehow you trust him. And deep down, there's still that fizz of excitement mixing in with all the nervousness. The Jungkook Effect. You don't want to lose it to the darkness like everything else.
"I'll try. Just-- don't laugh at me okay?"
"You have my word, sarge." He salutes with a thoughtful grin. "Hold on a sec. I know exactlyĀ what you need to get you going."
Jungkook jumps to his feet and you watch with your chin tucked between your knees as he jogs down the rocky path and opens all four of the truck doors, even the trunk, before his head disappears into the vehicle and the same pumping bass from earlier starts blasting into the quiet serene of the sunflower field.
"There," He grins as he returns, out of breath, and sits back down beside you cross legged, holding his camcorder to his eye. "Now do what you were doing before again, but over there. Just pretend you're on stage at the Crestmont, okay?"
You feel the music wash over you and the urge to move hits you like a wave. Jungkook nods encouragingly and there's something in his eyes that flips a switch inside you. And for the first time in a long time, all the passion and spirit and feeling inside you fizzes up to the top and you can't contain it any longer.
"That's it!" Jungkook calls, shutter clicking uncontrollably. "I knew you could do it!"
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An oak tree provides sun-flecked shade, a cool sanctuary from the sun that sets on the horizon and splashes the sky's canvas magenta.
Jungkook laid out a checkered blanket from the trunk of his truck which you both lay upon, shoulders pressed together as close as humanly possible, surrounded by your devoured picnic consisting of his mom's fruit punch and bags of snacks he took from the concession stand at the Crestmont when nobody was looking.
"Holy shit, Y/N." He says through a mouthful of popcorn, jabbing his finger at his favourite shot of you in front of the sunflowers. "This is what I've been saying! You're a natural in front of the camera."
"No, you're amazing, Jungkook." You feel for his hand. It's funny how natural it feels already when his pinky links with yours. "Behind the camera."
"You think?" He chews his lip, eyes searching yours for approval.
"I know. You should do something with these. People need to see them."
"I'm thinking of becoming a filmographer, actually"
"Like at the pier?" You think of the tacky photo booth that overlooks the sea in town, fit with all the silly cardboard cut outs that tourists come and take a photo with for a dollar.
"No, I mean a real filmographer." He shrugs, and you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Movies and stuff."
You nod. It makes sense for Jungkook to spend his life with a camera glued to his right hand. You can't imagine Jungkook anywhere else, and you have to ignore the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that he would eventually leave Ocean City -- and you -- behind for the big screen.
"Well you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."
"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.
"Always."
He must see the sadness brimming inside you, his body shuffling closer so your knees brush. It's reassuring somewhat.
"Actually...there's something I should tell you."
He shifts under your gaze. The nerves rush back. "What is it?"
"I guess I finished writing my first screenplay..."
"That's like a movie script, right?" You ask eagerly, and he nods. "That's great, Kook!"
"Yeah, it's great it's just --" He pauses, and clutches your hand tighter like he's scared what he says next will make you let go forever. "It's about you."
You pale. "M-me?"
"I mean, it's about you and...and Taehyung! And your mom." Jungkook rushes. "I was inspired by your story at the boardwalk and it just happened! I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now and think I'm crazy but--"
"Burn it." You deadpan.
Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"
"I said burn it." You pull his hand into your lap and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't hate you, Kook. I just think you were right earlier when you said I need to face my fears. And the only way I can do that is by forgetting my past. The last thing I need is a whole freaking movie about it."
He joins in with your strained chuckles. "Sure you aren't mad?"
"Not mad." You assure with a smile.
"Then I'll burn it."
You avoid his gaze shyly. "I'm kinda honoured you wrote about me, though." You admit.
"I guess...I guess I could call you my muse." Jungkook blurts hurriedly. His nose is a deep shade of pink and it makes you want to tease him forever.
"Yeah." You nod to yourself with a smile. "I like that. Your muse."
And then his lips are on yours again, like he can't quite help himself, and you start to forget where yours begin and his end.
This time it's not delicate and sweet. It's slow and languid, hot and heavy. The sunflowers break your fall, Jungkook's lips never leaving yours as he climbs on top of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other planted beside your head so that his chest hovers above yours. You're almost certain he can feel how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, but you don't care, too lost in the bliss of finally feeling Jungkook's plush lips against your own.
"Come to New York with me." He says breathlessly between kisses, and your heart stops.
"What?" You can hardly drag your lips away from his but you have to be sure you heard him right. New York?
"I mean, in the future. I'm gonna go to New York. Get a job at a film production company or something, I don't know--" He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Come with me."
"I...I can't."
"Why?" He frowns. "Is it me?"
"No! God no."
"Then why? You said it was your dream right?" You nod. "So what's stopping you?"
"I..I have to take care of Taehyung, and my job at the Crestmont and--"
"Okay. Lets pretend none of that exists. It's just you and me." His breath ghosts against your forehead. "Y/N, will you come to New York with me?"
"Yes." It comes out breathless, but you mean it. With every atom and nerve and fiber in your body. "Lets go to New York."
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Where things change.
3 years later.
A postcard sits on the Welcome Home! Doormat you and Jungkook bought before you left for New York. You recognise the picture perfect image of Ocean City on the front, and Taehyung's messy scrawl on the back that tells you he's doing fine at his new management job at the Crestmont and he will be sending a housewarming gift imminently.
ā€” Stay smiling, Y/N. Miss you already! Taehyung. :)
With a small smile you tack it onto the bare fridge. It brightens up the empty kitchen somewhat, a little piece of home and a reminder that you don't need to worry about leaving your brother behind to fend for himself so much any more. Since he pulled his life together and got a job at the theatre, it's like he came alive again. Found his purpose.
Speaking of purposes, you suppose that's how you found yourself here. In your very own apartment in a nice complex on the east side. The east side of New York City.
There's a pair of satin curtains hung over the balcony doors, probably left behind by the old tenant as it's the only form of furniture in the whole apartment. They rustle in the morning breeze and you tiptoe across the room barefoot to rip them open, letting your eyes flutter shut when the early morning sun filters through the glass and cascades over your face like a warm embrace.
You press a hand to the glass, studying your reflection; the messy lump of hair atop your head, the soft shadow of your lashes atop your cheeks. And beyond it, New York. Your new normal in all it's familiar glory from your dreams, yet still so deliciously foreign it makes your heart leap whenever a cab horn rings out in the distance or you breathe in the smell of fresh bagels from the shop down the street.
Home. You could finally call it that now. But New York is just a city and this apartment is just a house. The real reason you get to call this place home is because of who you came here with.
Jungkook.
You've been dating for two and a half years by now. He let you borrow one of his old much-too-big t-shirts to sleep in last night. There's a hole in the shoulder and the hem brushes your knees but it's warm and smells like his cologne and your heart expands when you close your eyes and remember this is just the beginning. You have so much to do, so many things to see here in New York. So many things to learn. And there's nobody you would want to explore life with more than Jungkook.
His camera equipment lays in a cardboard box by your feet, and something compels you to take out the old-school camcorder he loves. The leather strap tightens perfectly around your hand and the red RECORD button flashes as you open the doors wide and lift the lens to take in the view. Something tells you you're gonna want to remember this moment forever.
It's not long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked cheekily into your shoulder. "There you are." Jungkook husks, stilly groggy with sleep as his lips ghost across your cheek.
Turning around in his grasp, you find him still shirtless, sweatpants slung low around his hips. He's been working out recently, and you can't deny you don't love how firm his shoulders feel when you brace yourself on them to stand on your tip toes and leave a peck to his lips.
"Morning sleepyhead," you say, running your fingers through the strands of his silky bed hair. It's longer these days, whispering across the nape of his neck and falling across his round eyes sweetly. They flutter closed when you massage his scalp just how he likes it. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed."
"Missed you." His lips turn up when he sees the camera pointed at his face. "Whaddya doing with that?"
"Making memories." You say simply, zooming in on him as he rubs his sleepy eyes. "So we never forget this."
A cheeky smirk appears on his lips as he wraps you in his arms, a surprised giggle leaving you when he spins you around and grabs the camera so he can point it at the both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder now as his bare arm snugly wraps around your waist.
"Hey stop! I just woke up, I look bad!"
"Hello us of the future," Jungkook chuckles, pulling your fingers away from your face when you bury your face in his chest to hide from the lens. "It's our first day in New York and Y/N is being all camera shy--okay, okay fine, lets show them the view instead!"
Jungkook finally flips the lens around so it focuses on the distant silhouettes of tall skyscrapers skimming the blue skyline, before he turns it back onto you guys once more with a mischievous look this time.
"But we have to go now because we have far more interesting business to attend to..." He lowers the camera as his lips start to trail up your collar bone and he smiles when your eyes flutter shut and you gasp at the feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a pout when you wriggle out of his embrace with a stern look.
"Not now. Later."
"Mmf? Why?" He whines, making grabby hands towards you. "You're so warm, jus' wanna cuddle for a bit."
"No time!" You call over your shoulder as you grab him by the hand and drag his heavy feet behind you. "We've got an apartment to decorate."
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Before you know it you've enlisted Jungkook's help in laying tarps across the living room floor, two pots of bright white paint plonked in the center. It's not like you could afford a decorator after all. You are two broke twenty-something's trying to make it big in New York, and all that cliche stuff. So you would just have to do it yourselves.
Jungkook's over in the corner, miming along to the guitar solo from some rock song playing from the radio balanced on the windowsill, the paint roller his instrument as he dances around the room with giddy impulse. There's paint all over his butt where he accidentally leaned against one of the wet walls and he's got his hair tied back into a bun at the crown of his head and you watch him out of the corner of your eye while an affectionate smile creeps onto your face no matter how hard you try to curb it.
That's when you notice the camera in his other hand. He zooms in on the stepladder in the corner, the paint spillage in the hall, the heart with Y/N + JUNGKOOK FOREVER written inside it on the back wall. Documenting everything as usual.
He was always filming you, too. Whether you were making coffee in the morning or drying your hair. He'd even slow down beside you on the sidewalk to get the perfect shot.
You find it cute, even though you pretend to hate it. It makes your heart flutter every time you catch him rewinding the footage with a contented smile on his face, like he just captured the whole world with his lens.
It's no surprise when you finish putting the final coat on the wall and step back to admire your handy work that you find him wandering around the apartment with his hand curved around the lens of one of his bigger cameras like it's natural to him. You always joke that thing is like an extra limb, but he looks so calm as he looks through his lens at the room that is now drunk on the afternoon sun pouring through the window, the golden rays like honey on his skin, that it's easy to see that the camera really is a part of him. Passion lies in the soft lines of concentration on his face, in the plump lip tugged between teeth as he fiddles with the settings.
Jungkook sees beauty where others don't, where others can't. It might as well pump through his veins. And it's one of the reasons you love him so much.
You shake your head when you see how a small smile finds his lips when he leans a shoulder against the door frame and lets the camera land on the thing he swears is most beautiful.
"Hey." You warn, shooting a side wards glare at the camera lens you spot Jungkook not so discreetly pointing in your direction. "Stop it."
"Stop what?" He runs a hand through his hair, lips pulling back into a sly bunny smile when you bend down to reach a spot you missed at the bottom of the wall. "I'm not doing anything."
Your upper lip twitches. "Are you zooming in on my ass?"
"What? No!" Jungkook scrunches his nose with wide eyes, a habit you knew meant he was guilty, a pout forming on your lips as he snaps the viewfinder closed and shoves the offending piece of his equipment behind his back.
You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He blows a strand of hair out of his face innocently but there's a playful glint in his eyes and you can hardly keep a serious face as you plant your hands on your hips in what you hope is a menacing manner.
"Then lemme see it." You challenge with a nod to the camera behind him.
He feigns indifference, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy. "See what?"
"That's it!" You shake your head, charging towards and him making grabby motions towards the camera. Jungkook looks down at you fondly as he holds it above your head, out of reach, and it only makes you you pout harder. "Hey! Give it!
"Never!" You jump pitifully, fingers grasping around nothing. A melodic chuckle spills from Jungkook's lips when you cross your arms over your chest in defeat and blink up at him crossly. "You have to say the magic word first."
You scoff at the teasing look on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and waves the camera just above your head, before an idea strikes you and within seconds you're wielding a paintbrush, Jungkook's eyes widening when you point the paint coated bristles at his face.
"Give it up." You hold out your palm with a smug look. "Or the walls are not the only thing getting a fresh coat."
"You wouldn't." He smirks, despite being backed into a corner now.
"Oh yeah?" Without further ado you swipe the brush down the bridge of his nose, swallowing a giggle at the white smudge it leaves behind and his shocked expression beneath it. "You underestimate me, Jeon."
Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing up and down your body before they lock with yours daringly. "You shouldn't have done that."
"Or what?" You taunt playfully, a laugh escaping you, but you quickly bite down on your lip when you see the glint in Jungkook's eyes as he submerges both his hands into the nearby bucket of paint.
You don't run when he steps closer. Instead your breathing quickens, heart doing a funny somersault when he brushes your hair to the side and clamps both of his wet hands on the sides of your jaw to bring your face up to his.
He tastes like coffee and desire when your lips crash together in a delicious tangle of teeth and tongue, all the thoughts racing through your mind dripping away like honey until all that's left is the thump of your heart against your chest and Jungkook's warmth as he backs you up against the wall.
When he pulls away he rubs his paint covered nose against yours, cocking his head and smiling sweetly when he leans back and admires his handy work.
"You have paint on your face." He looks down at his white hands innocently with a shrug. "Whoops?"
His hands trail down to your hips. You reach to your side and grab a fistful of paint, wiping it down the centre of his face and giggling when he groans and scrunches his eyes closed . "So do you."
"Okay, that's it. This means war!" Jungkook growls, strong arms wrapping around your waist, and before you know it you're stumbling over to the mattress in the corner, Jungkook's body hovering over yours.
"You wanna play dirty, huh?" Desire-filled eyes trace your face, travelling down the expanse of your neck before zeroing in on your collar bones. You gasp when Jungkook's lips attach themselves to the sensitive skin, every inch of you set alight when his burning fingers slide beneath the hem of your tshirt and find your thighs. "Always being such a bad girl, huh?"
"So? What're you gonna do about it? Punish me?" You say teasingly, and he stiffens, lips leaving a mark behind on your neck with a pop. Jungkook's narrowed eyes meet yours and you feel your heart speed up with anticipation.
His lips twitch, like they're dying to turn up. "Brat."
With that, you're being flipped over onto your knees with a yelp. Jungkook's hands work quickly and before you know it your tshirt is over your head and the sudden breeze from the open balcony doors against your hardened nipples makes you gasp.
"You love it." You laugh breathily.
"Too much," Jungkook confirms, before his large palm presses you down into the bed firmly between the shoulder blades so that your ass is thrust up in the air. You wiggle is teasingly, though the breath catches in your throat when the first spank lands on your bare skin. Then a second, the sound ringing out through the empty room like an echo and making a damp spot appear on your panties.
"Hey!" You chastise when you remember the paint on his hands that just left two glaring handprints right across your ass.
Jungkook just smirks. "What? Now everyone knows it's mine."
A third slap and you have to bite the blanket to stop from groaning, then a fourth, and a fifth and by then your eyes are watering but in the best way. Calloused hands smooth over the burning area, soothing it.
"Good girl," A raspy voice whispers next to your ear. "Such a good girl for me, taking your punishment. I think you deserve your reward now, hm?"
"Please." You moan as he reaches around to grasp your breast, tweaking your nipples in a way that has you writhing beneath him.
"Don't say I didn't warn you though," Jungkook chuckles as he rips your panties down your legs, gasping at the sight of your dripping slit like it's the first time. He runs a finger down your folds, biting back a groan when it makes your legs fall open a little further, desperate for his touch. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."
"Jungkook, what do you-- oh!." Before you can finish, Jungkook is pushing your face back into the comforter, spreading your cheeks with his palms and licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your throbbing core. His tongue finds your clit easily, toying it with the tip playfully until you're gasping for air.
"Mmf, tastes so good." He murmurs against your folds, the vibrations of his chuckle making you moan so hard your legs start to shake. His tongue finds your hole, swirling around teasingly before it slips inside and you can't handle it anymore.
"Jungkook!" You gasp, reaching behind to grab his hair. "I..I can't-"
"You can." He says, almost a command, mouth leaving your pussy only so he can slide over onto his back and pull you back down onto his face by the hips.
"Oh g-god!" Your hand reaches for the headboard, landing on the wall to steady yourself when you remember you still haven't bought a bed frame yet. Your legs are starting to ache from holding yourself up but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of Jungkook's tongue lapping at your swollen folds as you grind in lazy circles on his face.
"C-close, Kook." You manage to splutter, head thrown back with pleasure when he slides two of his fingers inside you and starts to pump in time with his tongue, the sensation of being filled enough to send you over the edge into a shuddering climax that is unlike anything you've felt before, the only thought on your mind the way your hole clenches around your boyfriend's fingers.
It takes a few moments for your legs to stop shaking, your hearing slowly coming back into focus as you hear both of your heavy breaths intermingled. You look between your legs to find Jungkook staring up at you with a grin, eyes filled with wonder. His chin gleams with your juices, the front of his t-shirt damp as you realise with a gasp what just happened.
"Did I--?"
"Yup."
"Holy fuck." You swing your leg over his shoulder so you're beside him, Jungkook sitting up to look at you, still mesmerised. "I...I'm sorry, that was--"
"The hottest thing you've ever done." Jungkook finishes, grinning at you like he just won the lottery.
You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"
You can't help but laugh at his eager puppy dog eyes, hands practically twitching at his sides to touch you. A quick glance at his crotch confirms the biggest tent in his pants you've ever seen, and you crook a finger towards him with a sultry smile and a nod.
"Let's see if you can make me do that again."
"O-Okay!" Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, and then he's on top of you, burning skin meeting burning skin. Your palm runs down his chest, Jungkook's eyes falling shut when it reaches the hem of his sweatpants. You cant help but gasp when your fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, core already throbbing again to be filled. He shivers when your finger circles his tip, admiring the wet patch on his boxers.
"Eager?" You smirk.
"You squirted on my face, Y/N, of course I'm goddamn eager."
"Get these off then." You tug at his pants and he kicks them off without a second telling.
"Your wish is my command."
When he returns to hovering over you, both completely bare now, he pauses. His eyes meet yours, a gentle smile appearing on his lips as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and grips your jaw protectively.
"I love you, y'know."
You close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his but barely able to keep yourself from grinning with the elation swirling in your chest. "I love you too, doofus. Now hurry up or I'm gonna have to fuck myself."
"That sounds kinda awesome--"
"Kook!"
"Okay, okay, on it!"
Palms spread your legs, and you both gasp when Jungkook runs the blunt head of his leaking cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices before he lines it up with your entrance.
"Ready?" He checks, thumb tracing circles into your inner thigh.
"As I'll ever be."
And with that, he pushes inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck with a sigh of relief at finally feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing length. The stretch of his girth stings, but it makes you feel so deliciously full, so perfectly whole to be connected to Jungkook like this that all you can get out is another soft I love you that earns a blissful smile from your boyfriend as he starts to move.
Each stroke makes you lose your breath, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. It's when Jungkook takes your nipple into his mouth that you feel a second orgasm start to build, one hand gripping the sheets as the other drags scratch marks down his muscular back in blissful agony.
It's not long before Jungkook spills inside you with a deep growl, your own high hitting you as you feel him coat your walls. He collapses onto your chest, breaths deep and exhausted, and wraps you in his arms before you can even catch your breath.
Jungkook pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and places a kiss to the top of your head. He's so warm you feel yourself start to drift off into a blissful sleep, the smile on your lips never faltering.
"I love you too." Is the last thing you hear him say before sleep takes you under, and you're safe wrapped up in each other's arms.
When you open your eyes, the room is warm with sunset's rose tinted blush, and Jungkook's body is no longer beside you. Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sit up on your elbow and find him on the ground in front of the freshly painted wall, intricate petals and stems flowing from the end of the paintbrush he delicately waves across the surface to paint the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen.
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"I'm home!" You hear your boyfriend yell out as he shuffles into the apartment, quickly followed by a yelp. "Hey, Gureum, stop trying to lick my face!"
You can't stop the smile that spreads across your features when a ball of white fluff comes bounding into the living room, the puppy that excitedly jumps into your arms tracking a trail of muddy paw prints over the script in your hands.
"Hey Gureum," You coo, scratching him behind the ears where you know his sweet spot is. "You're such a good boy, huh?"
"Don't praise him! He totally ran away from me in Central Park and I had to chase him all the way home!" You can practically hear Jungkook's eye roll, shaking your head fondly at the mock annoyance in his voice. It was Jungkook who begged you to adopt a puppy for months in the first place, and they've been more or less inseparable ever since ā€” the little guy hardly ever leaves his side. It's safe to say Jungkook is definitely Gureum's favourite.
The smell of coffee and fresh bagels wafts through the apartment, a warm sensation settling in your stomach as your boyfriend rounds the corner and waves a brown paper bag.
"Still got us enough coffee to stay up all night learning lines though." Jungkook grins, dumping the contents onto the coffee table and raising his eyebrows when your hands dart straight for the chocolate cookies. "Speaking of learning lines, how is it going, pretty?"
He nods towards the script in your hand. It's worn at the edges and ferociously dog eared from all the nights you have stayed up until sunrise reciting the words littered across the pages over and over, until it's like your lips are moving by muscle memory and the words are a part of you.
After what felt like hundreds of failed auditions, you had started to lose hope. With every letter that landed on the porch with another SORRY or MAYBE NEXT TIME, you felt all the confidence in the dream you worked so hard to uncover start to dwindle.
But Jungkook was always there, by your side no matter what. Encouraging you when you forgot your lines or holding you when you didn't get the callback. Reminding you to eat whenever you were too absorbed in your work to cook or cheering you on from the crowd at your weekly improv performances.
It was Jungkook who cried with you when the director of the small theatre downtown called and gave you the lead part in his upcoming stage production. Your big break. And you were determined to make sure everything ran smoothly at opening night tomorrow, which is how you find yourself snuggled up on the couch rewinding your VHS copy of Dirty Dancing over and over again until you have every word memorised by heart.
"Pretty good." You say as you pop a salted peanut into your mouth while Jungkook slips out of his tweed jacket. He's been trying to dress more New-York-ish these days, or so he says. More dress pants and less sweats. "Final rehearsals start at five."
"Aren't you nervous?" Jungkook squishes into the space beside you, Gureum cuddling up between your bodies.
Tomorrow night's show is sold out, along with every night after that for the next week. You heard there were going to be at least 700 people there each night.
"Terribly." You admit, stomach churning at the thought of 700 pairs of eyes staring right at you. You try to focus on the fizzing excitement that lingers there too, growing stronger and stronger. "But I think I'm more excited".
"I'm excited to see you up there doing what you love." Jungkook smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "My star."
"Well don't get too excited because I still keep messing up this one goddamn scene," You flip the script to a page covered in bright highlighter scribbles and run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. "I'm totally gonna mess it up and then I'll never get another job andā€”"
"Shhh," Jungkook takes the script from your hands and runs his eyes over it quickly. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be amazing ā€” hold up..." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this...the kiss scene?"
You feel your cheeks redden, voice small. "Yes."
"Then you're in luck because who better to help you practice than the best kisser in all of New York?"
You snort. "Wow, I sure could use some of your expertise Good-Sir-Makes-Out-A-Lot."
"Then you're in the right place..." He runs his finger over the script, jabbing at one line in particular.
[Johnny and Baby kiss.]
"Let's start here, hm? For practice, obviously."
"For practice." Your eyes roll but your heart still beats a little faster as he closes the space between you, hand pressing into the wall so his sturdy body hovers over yours, hands instinctively pulling him closer by the collar.
"Come give me a kiss, m'lady..." Jungkook murmurs, but before he can tilt your chin up towards his lips there's a sudden series of frantic knocks at the front door.
"What the heck?"
You both jump out of your skin, Jungkook's eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder at the shadowy figure outside, fist pounding the glass fervently, like they're trying to break it down.
"Okay, damn, I'm coming!" He yells with a roll of his eyes. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders as he hops up from the couch with a sigh. "Probably just some dumb marketer again or something ā€” dude, chill! I said I'm coming! ā€” be right back."
The lock slides open and you hear Jungkook gasp. Your stomach drops. "Who is it?"
"Uh, Y/N..." You hear the door click shut and the sound of squeaky shoes shuffling inside. The anxiety in Jungkook's voice makes your heart skip. "You might wanna come see this."
"Huh?" Your legs feel shaky as you follow him out into the hall, chest seizing when you lay eyes on the dripping wet hair and chattering teeth of the shivering man stood before you, eyes dark and grave like they used to be.
"Taehyung?" You splutter, ripping the blanket from around your shoulders and swaddling him in it as quickly as you can, Jungkook already bounding into the other room to get dry clothes and towels after shooting you a terrified glance.
Taehyung grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace. His cheeks are wet against your shoulder, but you can't tell if it's because he's been crying or because he's been out in the freezing cold rain ā€” hold on, did he walk here?
"Y/N," He murmurs frantically, eyes darting back and forth but never quite focusing on anything. You knew this look. This is how he looked that day you found out about the accident. Murky, far far away. Devastatingly sad. Something wasn't right.
"What is it?" You ask, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the couch before his shaking knees buckle beneath him. "What are you doing here, Tae?"
"It's...it's the Crestmont." He whispers.
"What about the Crestmont?" Jungkook appears behind Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it's like your brother doesn't even feel it.
"They're tearing it down." He mumbles. "They're tearing down the Crestmont. Forever."
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"Okay, now let's start from the beginning."
Jungkook's calm voice lilts from beside Taehyung who, after a warm shower and two cups of cocoa, has stopped shivering and seems to be ready to talk.
A hand reaches across the coffee table to tug on your wrist mid-lift to your mouth, a reminder from Jungkook to stop biting your nails. An old nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in Ocean City but apparently more than just Taehyung showed up here unannounced tonight.
"I...I got a call this morning." Taehyung begins, pausing to take a sip from the mug he cradles in his lap. His hands are shaking so he places it on the coffee table for safe keeping, right beside your discarded script. "It was from a construction company."
"And?" You prod, somewhat impatiently, making Taehyung jump.
"And apparently the owner of the theatre is behind on rent and...and..." He swallows hard. "And they're buying the rights to tear it down and build an apartment complex in its place."
"What?" Both you and Jungkook exclaim at the same time.
Jungkook's fists clench. "I always knew that old man was shady."
Taehyung fumbles in the pocket of the coat he arrived with, retrieving a brochure which he thrusts towards you.
The image on the front is of a metal skyscraper, far too shiny and new to belong in a seaside town like Ocean City. Fusion Apartments ā€” modern living.
Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair, eyes sorrowful as you pass it over to him. "This sucks. Big time." He murmurs. "The Crestmont is the heart of Ocean City. How can they just bulldoze it like it means nothing?"
"That's why..." Taehyung swallows. "That's why I came here. I thought maybe you guys could help me, and we could do something before theyā€”"
"We?" You furrow your brows. "You want us to help stop them from tearing down the Crestmont?"
"I mean yeah, I guess? I figured you guys would understand how important it isā€”"
You bite your lip. Taehyung flinches when you place a hand on his knee. "Tae. It seems like they've already got it figured out I mean...what can we do about it? The Crestmont has had a long run and maybe it's time for something new in Ocean City..."
"Y/N?" Jungkook warns, but there's a betrayal in his voice. How could you say that? It pains you, but you continue anyway. "What are you saying?"
"I just...I think it's time to let the Crestmont go."
Taehyung stands up so abruptly his mug smashes onto the marble tile.
"How could you?" He roars, but his bottom lip trembles. "The Crestmont is mom's place! It's all we have left of her in that fucking town and you want to just let them burn it to the ground?"
You tut, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of china with a sharp glance at your brother. "For goodness sake, Taehyung. Mom isn't there anymore. She never was. She was always running off with some roadies and leaving us behind because she thought she was something special."
Taehyung scoffs. "What? Just like you?" He grabs the cocoa sodden script, crumpling it up in his shaking fist. "You are exactly the same as her. Running off to New York and leaving me behind to get your big break."
Jungkook steps forward warily. "Taehyung, you don't mean thatā€”"
"Yes I do! If Y/N had just gotten in the car that day she wouldn't have died. It was all her fault. And now she's just gonna let them take what we have left of her."
"What?" Jungkook blinks.
Your stomach sinks. Is that really what Taehyung thinks? You wouldn't blame him. Deep down, his words strike a nerve. Because you know they're true.
Taehyung's eyes are hazy, unfocused. You reach for him dizzily, but he backs away into the hall.
"I shouldn't have come here." Taehyung whispers. He looks between you and Jungkook one last time before he's grabbing his coat and running down the steps to the first floor.
"Taehyung, wait!" You hear Jungkook's footsteps follow him out into the stairwell, but you're trapped on the ground, heaving for air.
Your hands shake as you pull yourself up to the window pane and watch Taehyung disappear into the gloom of the city, the sorrowful raindrops that lash against the glass mirroring the ones on your cheeks.
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YOU: Taehyung??? YOU: [CALL IGNORED] YOU: please Tae YOU: can we at least talk about this? YOU: we're worried about you
It's been nearly 12 hours since you watched Taehyung disappear among the hustle and bustle of New York from your apartment window.
You and Jungkook were out all night searching for him. By the time you gave up the sun was rising and the birds were chirping and Jungkook somehow convinced your shivering form to return home to rest with a Taehyung shaped hole in your heart.
"It'll be okay. He'll be okay. He always is."
A phone call to your dad revealed he hadn't returned home that night; so where did he go exactly?
The weight of that question sits heavy in your chest as you sit backstage at the theatre, staring into your own vacant eyes in the dressing room mirror.
It's opening night. The show is due to start in fifteen minutes. Your lips are painted a deep shade of red, hair backcombed to perfection by one of the makeup artists. Beneath the harsh lights of the exposed bulbs that line the mirror, you look almost unrecognisable.
Confident, strong, successful.
Anyone would say your dreams had come true, or something sappy to that effect. But even as you sit among the hustle and bustle of the costume team and breathe in the fragrance of perfume and powder blush, you couldn't feel further away from the New York version of yourself if you tried.
Staring back at you is a reflection of the shy, terrified girl from Ocean City you worked so hard to forget. Yet here she is, mind whirring with worries for her brother instead of the lines she should be rehearsing to death before curtain call.
This should be your big moment. One which you will remember forever. But all you want to do right now is hold Taehyung close like you used to and tell him you're sorry and that you won't leave him again.
"Y/N!" You're snapped out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder. You cover it with your own, instantly eased somewhat when you glance up and lock eyes with Jungkook in the mirror.
"Y/N, I found him."
"What?!" You jump to your feet, chair scraping obscenely. It draws the eyes of the people around you who quickly register Jungkook's polite smile as their cue to shuffle out of the dressing room and leave you two to talk. "Where is he? I need to talk to himā€”"
"He's not coming."
"What?"
Jungkook sinks into the chair beside you, forehead creased. He runs a hand through his hair and momentarily you catch a glimpse of the old Jungkook. The Jungkook that always took care of his best friend Taehyung.
"I...I gave him a ticket for the show tonight and told him to come. To see how much this really means to you...butā€”"
Your finger nails press half moons into your palms. "But what, Kook?"
"He was already leaving for Ocean City."
A sob wracks your frame. "Do you think he hates me?"
Jungkook's arms engulf you before the first tear can roll down your cheek, his chin tucking perfectly into the cleft of your shoulder. "Of course not, he's just...he's hurting right now."
"I can't lose him ā€” not like this, Kook..."
"Shh. It'll all be okay."
You jump back and start to pace. "But it's not okay! What he said last night is true!"
Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"
Your knees buckle and you crumple. You can hardly breathe, shame washing over you as you admit the truth for the first time.
"I caused the accident! I'm the reason my mom's...she's..."
Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulder, voice soothing. "What are you talking about?"
"The night of the accident she got a call from some big buck director. She was cast in this huge movie. Her big break." You're speaking to fast, but Jungkook nods to tell you he's listening.
"So she told Taehyung and I we were leaving for New York that night. And we were packing our bags before my dad got home and...and I said I wasn't coming. I didn't wanna leave Ocean City behind."
"I kicked and cried and said I didn't want to go, so her and Taehyung took off by themselves and that's when they got into the crash. She was upset and going too fast. It was all because of me." You start to sob. You've never admitted this to anyone before. Not even yourself. It tears your heart in two to say it out loud. "I'm the reason Taehyung's broken."
"You can't think like that." Jungkook clasps your face in his hands, thumb wiping away a stray tear. He looks scared, but his voice stays calm and convincing. "What happened was an accident. You were a kid. None of this is your fault."
"That's why Taehyung must hate me so much." You choke. "I'm doing what mom always wanted to, but she never had the chance because of me."
"Y/N?" A crew member steps into the room awkwardly with a cough. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the show is about to start. The audience is getting restless."
"Go. I'll take care of Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook pulls you to your feet, engulfing you in a final hug before he pushes you towards the stage entrance at the small of your back. "You're needed out there. Show them what you're made of."
Your eyes widen. This can't be happening. Not now.
"I...I can't."
"You can." Jungkook grabs your face and captures your lips, hard. It tastes salty with tears. "You're my star remember?"
"I love you." You whisper when you pull back, fingers reaching for him weakly as a costume designer hurries you towards the door.
"I love you too." Jungkook calls. His smile is the last thing you see before the door slams shut and there's no going back. "Now go break a leg, pretty!"
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Particles of dust float in and out of your vision beneath the blinding stage lights.
Everything feels different from side stage. Your heart races as you press your ear to the velvet curtain separating you from the world, listening to the hubbub of laughing children and chattering adults filtering into the theatre. You imagine them taking their seats, buying icecream from the vendors, alive with anticipation.
The lights dim. You hear the director behind you, shouting something about places please! but it's like you're underwater, limbs weighted as you move like a ghost to your position for the opening number.
Your palms are clammy and you wipe them on your dress.
Show starting in 5...
Your legs turn to jelly. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts.
4...
Taehyung. Is he okay? Why didn't he come tonight?
3...
Shit! What was your opening line again? Goddamnit, Y/N, think!
2...
Mom. Would she be proud?
1...
You open your eyes.
The curtain is gone, and a pair of hands pushes you out into the harsh white spotlight. You shield your eyes with your fingers, heart dropping when you look up and find hundreds of eyes staring. Staring right at you.
It's like you're on the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the cool water below. Or fall.
Everything starts to blur. You're a teenager again, stood on the stage at the Crestmont. Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you don't know whether to scream or to run.
Run. Run. Run.
Your mouth opens, then closes. There's an awkward cough from the audience. Words run your mind in circles, but none of them are right, and before they can reach your lips they evaporate on your tongue.
Your panicked eyes roam the sea of seats that zoom in and out of focus. Your knees buckle, and you're sure you are going to pass out right here in front of everyone, but then your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones that makes the room stop spinning for a moment.
Jungkook. He's smiling at you, fingers crossed in his lap. There's not a trace of nerves in his gaze as he nods for you to go ahead.
I believe in you.
Just then the door to the theatre flies open and every head in the audience turns towards the darkly clothed figure shuffling through the aisles, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's until he reaches the empty seat beside your boyfriend.
He lets down his hood, shakes free a head of blonde hair that's still damp from the rain. He's out of breath, like he ran here.
Taehyung.
Your brother looks up at you, frozen in place, and his eyes soften. He flashes you a thumbs up and his lips curl around the four words you needed to hear.
You can do this.
And just like that, the panic disappears. The words come flooding back, and your body flies into action, moving across the stage
You forget all about the fear, and the anxiety, and Taehyung and the Crestmont. For now it's just you and the stage, together in harmony.
And you've never felt more alive than when you take your final bow and the crowd roars to life, just like you always imagined it would.
Your jaw hurts from smiling, and before you know it you're crying. Because when you squint against the theatre lights, you see Taehyung and Jungkook in the front row, holding each other and shouting your name.
Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!
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"Hey! Be careful!"
The bouquet of congratulatory geraniums cradled in your arms gets crushed between your body and your brother's. He practically tackled you as soon as you entered the dressing room, carried on the cheering shoulders of the other cast and crew members.
"Holy shit." Taehyung holds you at arms length. His eyes are ringed red around the edges. "You were amazing, Y/N."
"You really think so?" Tears start to well and you're so happy to see him that you throw your arms around his waist. "I'm so glad you came, Tae."
"Yeah. You were just like her." He smiles. "Just like mom."
You share a small, sad smile. You've heard those words all your life but it feels different when it comes from Taehyung.
Jungkook pops his head into the room. He catches your eye over Taehyung's shoulder, and flashes you a small smile when he sees you cradling him in your arms.
Talk to him. He mouths, and you're suddenly reminded of why Taehyung came here in the first place.
"Hey listenā€”"
"Taehyungā€”"
You both start to talk, bursting into easy laughter when the other stops, seemingly hit with the same idea at the same time.
"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.
"Okay." He pulls you over to the couch. "I'm just...I'm sorry for storming out last night. I shouldn't have come here and expected you to help meā€”"
"No, stop. I'm sorry." You place a hand over his. "I want to help." You hold an arm out to Jungkook, who crosses the room and slides his hand into yours. "We want to help. We want to save the Crestmont."
Taehyung's eyes bulge. His voice drops to a whisper. "Really?"
"You were right. The Crestmont was mom's place."
You think about how it felt to be out there on the stage, in front of a crowd cheering your name. The excitement, the exhilaration. Your first stage.
The Crestmont is your mom's first stage. It's where she felt those same emotions for the first time. You can't let it be demolished. Not for anything.
"She deserves a legacy. We can't let them tear it down. I don't know how yet, but we'll save it."
"Thank you." A tear streaks his cheek, and his arms pull you and Jungkook into a tight bear hug.
"Thank you. For showing me what really matters, Tae." You whisper. "Let's do this together, okay?"
"For mom."
Taehyung holds out his pinky finger, and you link yours with his.
"For mom."
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Where things go wrong.
Six months later.
Every second that passes is marked by a deafening tick from the kitchen clock.
Jungkook was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. You're sat alone at the dinner table, a carefully presented meal for two spread across your mom's old polka dot table cloth. You even lit candles.
With a sigh you drop your chin into your hand, absentmindedly pushing your spaghetti around the dish while your eyes remain trained to the front door that will open any moment.
To be honest, it's been months since you and Jungkook shared a meal together. He spends most of his nights in his office, hunched over his laptop staring at the blinking cursor on some script he'll never finish. And ever since Jungkook's big script got rejected and he fell into a slump of no work, he had to get a job at a local convenience store all day for some spare cash to get you through the month.
You know he hates it. He hates the rude customers and how he can never shower the smell of grease out of his hair.
You know the bickering that turned into arguing that turned into fighting was just a result of his restless aggravation at being shot down too many times. Of watching his dream slip right through his fingers.
But you haven't exactly been as understanding as you should have been. You're overworked too, with the play, and The Crestmont, and you hate how easy it was to accept sleeping apart and missing dinner dates.
So you texted him to tell him you were making dinner tonight. A cease fire of sorts, or maybe just a feeble attempt at glueing back together the cracks that have appeared between you recently with pasta sauce and meatballs.
But he's late. Again.
And it makes you wonder whether there was any point in trying.
"Y/N?"
A gravelly voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Keys jangle onto the counter, shoes are slipped from feet and thrown into the storage cupboard with the creaky door.
"I'm in here." Your voice sounds meek, but you straighten and muster up a smile. To show at least one of you is making an effort.
Jungkook appears in the doorway, clad in his ugly traffic cone orange uniform. His shoulders are slumped, bangs limply stuck to his forehead. He looks tired, exhausted.
"What's all this?" He nods disinterestedly towards your untouched homemade buffet before heading to the sink to fix himself a glass of water.
"Dinner." You cough. He stiffens. "Remember?"
"Oh." He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flash with something close to guilt momentarily, but then he smoothes it out. "Yeah. Dinner."
"It's okay, you're not too late. We can just heat this up in the microwaveā€”"
"I already ate, Y/N." The glass in his hand slams onto the counter a little too loudly. "At the store."
You can't hide the way your face drops.
"Please." You whisper. "For me?"
Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, unblinking, before he exhales shakily and pulls out the seat opposite you.
"What's on the menu?" He asks, hands already grabbing for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table without so much as a glance at the food you worked so hard to prepare.
"Pasta."
"Right."
An uncomfortable silence settles. Jungkook nibbles at a meatball, and you suddenly feel too sick to the stomach to keep anything down.
You jump when Jungkook's fork clatters to the table. He wipes pasta sauce from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and you're sure you can see a slight tremor in his grasp.
"There's something I need to tell you."
His words ring out into the deafening silence that shrouds the apartment. You train your eyes to the candle in the middle of the table that flickers back and forth and carefully place down your own cutlery.
"Should I be worried?"
"No...I mean, I don't know. Maybe." Jungkook waves his hands around and when his eyes meet yours they're distant. Like the table that separates you spans oceans. "Just promise not to freak out."
"I'm not promising anything. Why are you looking at me like that?"
He shifts and the cheap flat pack dining chairs you bought when you moved in creak like they always do. "I...I got a movie deal. They loved the script I told them I've been working on and they want me to direct it."
Your heart fills with something sweet; pride. Even despite your downs recently this is still incredible news. You knew your boyfriend should be ecstatic...so why is he staring intently at the table cloth like it killed his whole family? "That's awesome, Kook. So what's the problem?"
"I gave them a different script."
Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.
"Huh?"
"The script. The one you told me to burn before we came to New York. The one about you...your life."
Your blood runs cold and it's like your frozen. Just searching through the never ending blackness behind Jungkook's eyes that fails to falter, no matter how hard you pinch your inner thigh and hope you're about to wake up from a bad dream.
"You wouldn't." Your voice sounds strained and Jungkook doesn't even flinch. "You...I don't believe you."
"I'm sorry." He runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's just that they hated the first one and I wanted this deal so bad. It's a once in a lifetime chance Y/N, don't you see?"
The boy staring back at you isn't the sweet and sensitive Jungkook from Ocean City or the strong and passionate man from New York. His words get all mixed up in your head as you repeat them over and over and it's as if you don't even know him at all. All you can feel now is betrayal. And just like that all the anger that has been building inside you for months explodes.
"So my life is just a fucking plot for one of your indie movies, Jungkook?"
"It's always your life isn't it? Never mine." He slams his hands on the table hard enough to make your insides shake. "Ever since we came to New York I've supported you, sat back and watched as you achieved all your dreams. And it hurts, Y/N. To come home from my dead end job, and write another goddamn script that nobody wants to even read."
"I came to New York because of you!" You don't even realise you're crying until you taste the hot salty tears that won't seem to stop. "I came here so you could make it big! You're the one who encouraged me to audition for the play in the first place!"
"God, are you really that naive? Don't you see? I came to New York because I saw how much it meant to you." Jungkook lowers his voice, and there's something in his words that makes your heart twist. Pain. His eyes look watery and you long to reach out for him. Like the skin on skin contact will somehow make all of this okay. "And not once have you ever considered how it might feel for me to sit back in your shadow."
"So that's what this is? Jealousy?" You shake your head and get up from the table and turn to leave, but Jungkook grasps your wrist.
"Why can't you be happy for me?"
"I am happy for you Jungkook. And I always will be." Your heart softens and you're reminded of the boyfriend you know. The boyfriend you love. You want to believe he's in there somewhere so you place your hand over his, and for a second he looks hopeful. "But this was never your story to tell. That's what hurts."
He drops your arm, gaze cold and distant. "Then I guess that's it then."
"What?"
The room starts to spin.
"If you can't accept my decision to go ahead with the project then I guess we can't do this anymore."
"This?" You whisper.
"Us."
"Jungkook...Are you saying we're over?"
He drops his head into his hands and lets out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know."
"You don't know?" You chuckle but it's hollow, empty. "You don't know if you love me any more?"
Jungkook's face drops and he lurches towards you, but you step back.
"No, shit Y/N I didn't mean it like that!" He looks scared. "I was just angry and it slipped out."
"Don't." His arms reach for you again but the brush of his fingertips feels scalding hot, wrong. "Don't fucking touch me."
"I'm sorry..."
"Don't lie to me Jungkook." Your vision is blurred with tears as you rip open the closet and yank out a suitcase. "You're not sorry. I was never your muse. I was just a stepping stool to the top."
"Where are you going?" Jungkook's crying now too. It comes out as a sob.
"Home." You say as you rip open your shared closet door and start throwing your things into the case. "I'm going home. Where I belong."
"I can't lose you like this. Please." He reaches for your wrist again but you're already half way to the door.
"Too late." You say. "I'm going home. And I'm never coming back."
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The familiar scent of burned popcorn and candyfloss soothes you as you creep through the backdoor of the Crestmont. It always had a broken hinge which opened just enough for a body to squeeze through. Seems not a lot has changed since you left Ocean City.
It's dark inside. Silent too, without the popcorn machine running and the movie trailers playing on LED screens. You don't know what you expected. It's gone midnight by the time you get back to Ocean City, but you don't want to go home just yet.
Comfort washes over you as you run your fingers over the gilded edges of the counter, and slip beneath the hatch on auto pilot. It feels strange to be back here without the starched shirt and bow tie you used to hate. You've swapped out worn sneakers for heels that click against the tiles and you've performed on stages for crowd's bigger than the Crestmont's but here and now, you feel like yourself. Even though everything in your life has changed, you're still the same small town girl underneath it all.
Without thinking your legs carry you to the wall of fame. The faces smile up at you, like they're saying welcome back.
"Hey mom," You whisper, stopping momentarily in front of her portrait. You stared at it for so long as a kid that you have every detail committed to memory but seeing it up this close makes your breath hitch. "It's me."
With a sigh you force yourself past into the hall. Your hands tremble as you push open the door to the theatre. It's just how you remember it, sparkling gold and red velvet and mystery. But there's yellow tape strung up across all the seats and a sign has been propped up on the stage, red glaring letters burning a hole in your heart as you read them.
DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.
All you can do is let your legs buckle, back sliding down the wall as you hug your knees to your chest and let out a throaty sob that echoes from the high ceiling.
When did everything go so wrong? You must be cursed. Everything you touch gets destroyed.
"Y/N?"
The lights flicker on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. You wipe your tears, but that doesn't stop them from coming.
"Over here."
Your voice is small but a few seconds later Taehyung's face appears from behind one of the velvet seats. His eyes soften when he sees you curled up in the corner.
"What are you doing down here?" He clambers over the seat to join you, his long legs folded awkwardly in the small space.
"Having a one man party." You snort and point to your tear stained cheeks.
"Are you okay?" His hand covers yours and the contact makes you jump.
"Yes..." You sniff. He raises a brow. "No. Jungkook broke up with me."
Taehyung chokes. "What?!"
"I mean, we fought and then he...he said we were over." Your heart stabs painfully but you shrug. "So I came here. Didn't know where else to go."
He places an encouraging hand on your shoulder. "Listen...I know I haven't always been there for you when I should've. Hell, you always took care of me and I never even asked how you were doing." He offers a small smile. "But I'm here now. And you can tell me anything. If...if you want to."
A few seconds tick by in silence. You try to form a sentence but everything just comes back to the same three words.
"I miss mom." You blurt.
It echoes through the theatre, and you can practically hear the mermaids and the cupids painted on the ceiling gasp. It surprises you too, the combination of grief and relief that washes over you at finally admitting it.
"I know." Taehyung pulls you into his chest, lips whispering against your hair as you let out a sob and it's like all the sadness and denial is rushing out of you like a faucet, filling the whole room up like a water tank. You're terrified of the moment it gets too full, and you stop being able to breathe. "But you're a lot like her, y'know."
"That's exactly the problem!" Your words come out as a yell and it makes you both jump. "Everyone always says I look like her, I talk like her, I act like her. And I hated it for the longest time because I hated her for leaving us!"
"But without even realising it I became her, Tae. I did what I always said I wouldn't and became selfish. I hurt you, and Jungkook and even the Crestmont."
"That's not true."
"It is! And the worst part is I don't even hate her any more. I need her. To hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. But she isn't here!"
"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"
"Jungkook wrote a script. A long time ago. About mom. And you and I. And everything that happened." You swallow, Taehyung's eyebrow raises though he doesn't look at all surprised by this information, nor as horrified as you that a record of your bleak shortcomings exists for anyone to read. "He got a movie deal. That's why we fought."
Taehyung hums. "You don't want him to make the movie?"
"It's not that I...I want to be happy for him. But I can't." You choke. "It's too painful. Remembering."
Accepting.
"When I said you were a lot like mom, I meant that you are headstrong." Taehyung pauses. "I felt that way once too. Like I hated mom and the goddamn world for taking her too soon. But in the end, the only person I hated was myself. Like however hard I tried I could never get over her, and all the pain I was pushing down into a dark place kept taunting me through the nightmares." He shivers, and you grip his hand tighter. "But one day I realised I don't have to be afraid of that pain any more. That pain is a part of me. But that doesn't mean I have to let it win."
"So what did you do?"
"I let myself feel it . I faced it. The only way I could let mom go was to stop running away." He pats your shoulder. "You need to set the girl in that script free, so you can move on."
And just like that, you're swimming...up, up, up, until you reach the surface of the water tank and you can take a heaving breath for the first time.
You throw your arms around his neck. It feels weird to hug him like this, but it's nice. "I missed you, Tae. Thank you.ā€
"I didn't do anything." He says. "The strength is inside you, you just need to find it. Just like you need to stop holding on to the past and let the new you shine for once."
You shake your head. "I need to talk to Jungkook. I don't know why I stormed off like that and..." You trail off. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"
Taehyung grins. "I didn't. I got called in to sort some paperwork and I noticed the back door ajar. Good thing it was you and not some crazy with a baseball bat, right?"
"At this time?" You nod to his still pyjama clad state. "Is it important?"
"Y/N," He laughs lightly. There's excitement shining in his eyes. "Someone just bought the Crestmont."
You scramble to your knees. "What?"
"We're staying open, and I get to keep my job."
And then you're hugging again, and laughing and crying because the Crestmont is going to be okay. You're going to be okay.
"That's incredible, Tae! Who is it? Who bought the Crestmont?"
"I don't know, it was an anonymous transaction. But the guy said he would be here...." He glances at his wrist watch, and as he does, the door creaks open. "Around now."
"Hello? Anyone here?" A familiar voice calls out.
"Jungkook?" Both of your jaws drop as you poke up from behind the seats. Sure enough your heart flutters when you see him, all wind swept and out of breath like he ran here.
"I thought you might be here." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can we talk?"
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The car ride to the pier was mostly silent. Jungkook borrowed his dad's old beat up truck -- it was that or his old bike with the pegs on the back -- and it still smelled like leather and petrol like it used to.
Everything about Ocean City is the same as you remember it. The pier stands strong atop the rocky sand, sea air deliciously fresh as it fills your lungs. The rolling waves shimmer like gold dust below the wisps of pink clouds that greet the rising sun. The beach is a peaceful view at this time. No tourists, all of yesterdays sandcastles swallowed by the sea spray. It took a couple hours to work through the paperwork so by now it's early morning ā€” 5:30am according to your phone lockscreen.
It's chilly, and your skin is covered with goose bumps even despite Jungkook's suede jacket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. But you don't mind.
You've missed this. You've missed Ocean City.
"No ice cream, I'm afraid." The breeze ruffles Jungkook's hair as he emerges from the fairground and settles beside you with his legs poking through the rails. He flashes you an apologetic smile. "I guess the parlour doesn't open until 9..."
You feel a pang in your chest. Being here is like a serious case of deja vu. Countless hours spent in this very spot, eating vanilla scoops with rainbow sprinkles beside Jungkook used to be so normal. When did you grow so far apart that you're surprised he even remembers?
"Jungkook..." You swallow hard when you meet his eyes, hands longing to reach out and stroke the stream of sunrise on his cheek that makes his dark eyes sparkle. "We...we need to talk. About everything."
There's a moment of silence filled only by the calls of seagulls greeting the morning before he speaks. "I sold the script."
He sounds nervous. Like he's not quite sure what your reaction will be.
You swallow. "And you used the money to buy the Crestmont?"
"Yeah." He says matter of factly, scratching a phantom itch at his nape. "I guess I did."
"Why?" Your voice is small.
"I can't loose you, Y/N." He murmurs. "Just like you can't loose your mom. The Crestmont was her everything. But you are mine. And loosing the Crestmont would be loosing a piece of you, and I couldn't stand that."
The breeze ruffles his hair as he reaches for your hand and links your fingers and squeezes hard. You don't make any move to stop him. You know what it means, so you squeeze back and return the sentiment. I'm sorry.
Before you can stop yourself you lurch forward, arms curling around his neck and it's like coming home. His hands pull you flush to his chest, hearts beating in sync and you know everything is going to be okay now.
"Thank you." You whisper against his nape. A tear rolls down your cheek and soaks into his collar and before you know it you're blubbering. "Thank you so much, Kook."
"You aren't mad?" His voice is muffled but you can hear the quirk of his brow.
"Mad? No..no..." You lean back and wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "But what about the movie? And your dream to be a director and--"
Jungkook grabs your shoulders. His own eyes are glassy as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.
"That was never what mattered to me, Y/N. Not even a little bit. There's one reason I went to New York and it's the same reason I came back to Ocean City tonight. You."
"But--"
"No but's. As long as we're together, I'm already living my dream." His lips turn up into a smile, his eyes tracing your face like it's the first time and he can't get enough. "And I never ever want to wake up."
You shift in your spot to face him properly for the first time, and emotion hits you like a tidal wave. It's like all of a sudden you realize how stupid you've been; to fight with the man before you, a man who only knows kindness, about the trivial when the things that mattered the most were always right here, in front of you. The things that mattered most were always in Ocean City.
You brace your hands on his shoulders and lean up so your lips are inches apart. His eyes fall shut naturally, and you can't help but laugh with what you can only describe as one thing: happiness.
"I love you." You whisper against his lips. A warm palm cups your jaw and closes the distance between them and you're almost too lost in the way Jungkook's kiss takes your breath away to hear his response.
"I love you too."
"Sooo..." You bite your lip with a coy smile when Jungkook pulls away, the blush upon his cheeks scarlet beneath the sun which is rapidly rising. "I take it we're no longer broken up?"
"Well duh," He swats you playfully. "You think I'd do all this just to dump your ass?"
"Hey!" You pout. "I dumped your ass."
Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.
"Besides," He glances out over the horizon nonchalantly and shrugs. "I'm gonna need help if I'm gonna start my own film company and run the Crestmont."
Your jaw drops. "A what now?"
"A film company." He explains. "A different type of film company, right here in Ocean City. For the outcasts like me who have a vision that even the biggest names in New York can't see yet." He smiles, so big and bright it makes your heart leap. "I'm gonna show them, Y/N. And everything I need to do it is right here in Ocean City."
"I know you will. I never doubted you for a second." You take his hand and link your fingers, squeezing hard. "And you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."
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Epilogue.
"Just keep your eyes shut!"
"I already know where we're going, so why can't I look?" You laugh, attempting and failing to tug Jungkook's interlocked fingers away from your eyes.
"Shush, it's a surprise! Just roll with it."
A surprise. That's what Jungkook said earlier too when he woke you up at the crack of dawn by throwing a dress at your head and telling you to meet him outside in the truck in 10 minutes or else.
By the time you pulled up into the familiar parking lot of your not-so-mysterious destination, the sky was already aflame with the glow of morning skimming the horizon, and Jungkook practically leapt out of the truck, palms unusually sweaty as he grasped your hand and pulled you towards the path quicker than your feet could carry you.
"What's the hurry, Kook?" You get out between heavy breaths, quads burning as the path gets steeper beneath your feet.
Come to think of it, your boyfriend has been acting strangely all week. Like hiding things behind his back when you walk into a room or talking in hushed whispers on the phone to Taehyung when he thought you were sleeping.
"You'll see." The path levels out and you stop. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, chin tucked into the cleft of your shoulder like a perfect puzzle piece. "Okay. Now you can look."
You round the corner, heart racing when your eyes flutter open and your vision is filled with a sea of yellow flowers. Your place.
The meadow is just how you left it, tall grass and sunny blooms dancing beneath the rays of morning sun peeking out from between the clouds. A warmth spreads through your chest and you both laugh when Gureum lets out an excited yelp, before bounding off between the stems playfully.
"I think the little guy wants us to follow him." Jungkook raises a brow and throws you a knowing shrug.
Excitement flutters in your stomach like a butterfly trapped between cupped palms. "How could I refuse?"
Fingers interlinked, you part the sunflowers and jog after the ball off fluff bouncing across the meadow, the breeze cool and forgiving as it ruffles the strands of hair that billow behind you.
Eventually you reach the clearing, and Gureum wags his tail at you proudly when you stoop down to scratch him behind his ears.
The sun reflects in Jungkook's eyes, turning them a warm golden brown. "Turn around."
You spin on your heels with a questioning glance. "Why?" That's when you see it. The spot where everything began. The tree where Jungkook kissed you all those years ago has bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and twinkle lights glow like tiny stars around it's branches. A blanket is laid out in the sun flecked shade beneath it, littered with feather cushions and lanterns and a trail of sunflower petals that begin at your feet.
"You did this?" You take his chin in your palms, face beaming despite the tears that have started to blur your vision. "Oh, Kook."
"Surprise." He smiles knowingly, grabbing you from behind and spinning you round and round until you both land with a soft thump in the middle of the outdoor cushion fort. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." He says with a nod to his right.
It's then that you notice the white sheet that's strung up a couple meters away between the trunks of two trees, Jungkook's vintage projector set up in front of it.
"What is this?" You ask, bewilderment evident in your voice.
"Gureum, would you do the honours?" Jungkook chuckles, extending a finger to point at a remote that your puppy obediently picks up with his teeth and drops into your lap with a wag of his tail.
Jungkook tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and takes a deep breath, like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Go ahead. Press play and find out."
Your head shakes fondly, but your fingers tremble with anticipation as they find the PLAY button. You press it and the projector starts turning, a light flicking on at the top that makes a grainy image appear on the sheet.
The first scene is you. A teenager, dancing through the sunflower field, laughter spilling from your lips. The first time you hung out. And then it switches. You, again. Cleaning up a spill at the Crestmont, unaware of the camera. You. Paint in your hair as Jungkook chases you around the apartment in New York. You. Tears in your eyes as you hold baby Gureum for the first time. You. Asleep on Jungkook's shoulder on the subway, the camera panning to his face which lights up in a big grin, lips mouthing three words.
I love you.
Tears are hot on your cheeks, laughing as you remember the good moments and the bad, the funny and the sad, all immortalized forever through Jungkook's eyes.
The film fades out, and you throw your arms around your boyfriends neck. He chuckles when you tackle him to the ground, throwing a leg over his lap so that you can lean down and capture his lips between yours in a kiss that says all the words you want to say but you don't know how to. I love you too.
"I take it you liked it, then?" Jungkook says coyly, thumb stroking your cheek.
"It was beautiful Jungkook." You place your hand over his. "Now I know why you're always goddamn filming me."
"What can I say? You're my muse."
"Shut up." You punch him playfully. "You're gonna make me blush."
It's Jungkook's cheeks that flush pink. "Actually..." He starts to sit up, fumbling around in his back pocket. "There's something else."
"Oh?"
He clears his throat. "The first time we came to this place I knew I loved you. Back then, I said I wanted to show you what I found most beautiful. And it was you. It's always been you." He takes your hand, grip tight. "When we met we were just kids with big dreams. We might be older now but heck -- I still don't know what I'm doing. All I know is dreams come and go but you never left. You always stayed by my side. Which is why I want to promise you something."
"What, Kook?" You manage to whisper. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute in your ears. Is this what you think it is?
Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.
"That I'll go wherever you go. New York, across oceans, up mountains -- you name it. As long as we're together, everything will be okay. So that's why I wanted to ask..." His fingers tremble as he produces a tiny black box, flicking it open to reveal a ring that sparkles see through in the sun. "Y/N, will you marry me?"
"Oh Jungkook," You throw your arms around his neck, overcome with emotion now as you capture his lips with your own. "Of course I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask."
He lets out a sigh of relief, and then he's spinning you around in circles until you're both dizzy with love and belly laughter.
"I love you." He whispers, eyes shiny. His hand gently grasps your wrist as he slides the ring onto your finger.
You've heard him say it a hundred times before, but this time it's different. This time it's forever. Your heart flutters.
"I love you too, Kook."
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Where there are new beginnings
Ocean City is the same as it always was.
You wake up each morning to the distant crash or waves, and you fall asleep each night to the tinkling fairground music that makes your heart sing. Tourists come and go, flooding the casinos and eating churros on the beach.
The Crestmont is doing better than ever. Once Taehyung took over as owner, the theatre became the heart of the city, attracting visitors from near and far to see the renowned plays directed by none other than Jeon Jungkook, the most sought after playwright and filmographer in all of the East Coast.
And then there's you. Ever since you starred in one of Jungkook's plays, about a girl from a seaside city moving to New York with big dreams, there's been no shortage of movie deals and acting opportunities thrown your way.
But in the end, you always find yourself coming back to Ocean City.
Tonight the Crestmont reopens for business after some much needed renovations. Taehyung is throwing a party, and there will be plenty of big Hollywood faces attending to see the brand new theatre and the updated __.
But one thing will always remain the same. The picture of your mom hung in the gallery. Her big smile is the heart of the Crestmont, greeting each and every visitor with pride.
And in the empty frame at the end of the wall of fame, there's a new picture.
You. Smiling, with your hair over one shoulder, just how you imagined. And beside you is Jungkook, with his arm wrapped around your waist and Taehyung holding Gureum and making a silly peace sign behind your head.
And you wouldn't have it any other way.
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Okay so hi if youā€™re still here!! I decided to put this at the end because I didnā€™t wanna spoil the ending so please send love to @brekkiejeonā€‹Ā !! They sent me the request for the ending of this fic all the way back in January and iā€™m trash and took like 7 months to finish writing it so i hope you enjoyed it even so lovely !!! <3 thank you for the request and sorry for the wait, this one really got me creative lol!Ā 
Also Iā€™d like to dedicate the smut in this fic to @atastefulwonderlandā€‹ because I know you love some good ole JK loving!! Hehe, ily~~
Also lemme know if this was bad because I never usually give OC so much backstory because I want it to be as relatable to the reader as poss obvi but these characters wrote themselves lmao like iā€™m just the writer i had no control okay???? I just do what these mfkers say. LOL.
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ashintheairlikesnow Ā· 3 years ago
Text
Misread Details, Part Two
CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper
Part One: NandaĀ | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert
The Unsolved Murder of Henry ā€œBruteā€ Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer
r/LetsTalkTrueCrime
ā€¢Posted by u/oshaycanyousee
2 weeks ago
Iā€™m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!
In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel ā€œNandaā€ Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Bensonā€™s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket.Ā 
The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Bensonā€™s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Bensonā€™s house by train.Ā 
Questions remain around Bensonā€™s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?
Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?
And most importantly: If he wasnā€™t guilty, why did he run?
Less than a full calendar year after Bensonā€™s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answeredā€¦ but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.
Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as ā€œBruteā€.
Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force.Ā 
His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henryā€™s older brother William ā€œBillā€, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta ā€œBobbieā€ one year after that.
Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential ā€œmiddle childā€, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of ā€œBruteā€ in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henryā€™s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I canā€™t really verify if theyā€™re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.
After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon ā€œBruteā€, and he never seemed to mind.
He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.
ā€œBruteā€ dated around a bit, but it wasnā€™t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Bruteā€™s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.
Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims sheā€™s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear.Ā 
They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellenā€™s father gave her away while Bruteā€™s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Bruteā€™s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.
The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellenā€™s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.
But Brute Hanlon had a secret.
Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money ā€œunder the tableā€. Ellen wouldnā€™t discover any of this until after his body was locatedā€¦ in a secret house heā€™d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.
Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a ā€œcompany townā€ from the 1930ā€™s - 1950ā€™s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60ā€™s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or donā€™t, and itā€™s best if you belong.
Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didnā€™t want Ellen or the children to know about.
While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.
Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a ā€œpoker nightā€ with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged.Ā 
What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills ā€œred light districtā€, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.
After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him.Ā 
Some described him as a regular customer who wasnā€™t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the weekā€¦ but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.
One individual, who gave his name asĀ ā€œMixā€, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy.Ā 
During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent.Ā 
He was home right on time every night except ā€œpoker nightā€, attended his chlidrensā€™ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.
Six months before his death, Bruteā€™s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him homeā€¦ for good.Ā 
The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as ā€œone of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starvedā€.Ā 
Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics donā€™t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didnā€™t see him again.
Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldnā€™t be a real one. Which is probably a good point.Ā 
Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.
Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests.Ā 
Bruteā€™s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.
Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.
We donā€™t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.
On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Bruteā€™s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.
None of Bruteā€™s possessions were inside, and it didnā€™t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Bruteā€™s friends who knew about his secret activities werenā€™t telling, and Ellen and the children didnā€™t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and fatherā€™s double-life.Ā 
At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.
Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Bruteā€™s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell ā€œlike something died in thereā€, and that he hadnā€™t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.
When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as ā€œunmistakable. I knew exactly what weā€™d find the second we walked in that door.ā€
He was right.
What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry ā€œBruteā€ Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.
The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was ā€œabsolutely enragedā€.Ā Ā 
Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.
Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.
The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from ā€œworkā€), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlonā€™s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesnā€™t recall if he wore a collar or not.
He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlonā€™s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.
Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlonā€™s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxieā€™s fingerprints were all over the murder weaponā€¦ and everywhere else, too.
Within Bruteā€™s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Bensonā€™s home. Other things were different (ā€œanimalizationā€ was mentioned in some of the reports, but what Iā€™ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason).Ā 
Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the homeā€™s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Bruteā€™s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom.Ā 
There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there.Ā 
In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cotā€™s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dogā€™s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.
Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.
Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlonā€™s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.
A contract for a 24/7 ā€œmaster/slaveā€ style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ā€˜Petā€™ at the bottom, and with Bruteā€™s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlonā€™s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they canā€™t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldnā€™t have been considered remotely valid.
I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.
Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Bruteā€™s associates in his more illicit activities.
Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.
Those associates claim that Brute kept a ā€œsecondhand Box Boyā€, muzzled him so he couldnā€™t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ā€˜poker nightā€™ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but franklyā€¦ given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... thatā€™s doubtful.
Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henryā€™s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since.Ā 
Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husbandā€™s secret life.
I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasnā€™t at home.
So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?
In shortā€¦ no one knows for sure.
After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticketā€¦ and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.
The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.
He isnā€™t seen in Red Hills again.
Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearanceā€¦ more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.
Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isnā€™t the cause.
Instead, Robert Weberā€™s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weberā€™s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.
Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.
-
@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiaryĀ 
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