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suosgirl · 7 months ago

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Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 1

Word Count: 2644

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), blood, broken bones, harassment, misunderstandings, violence, fighting, grief, loss of a loved one, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Hi! Ah – my first work! Ever since watching and reading Wind Breaker, I can’t stop imagining the idea of them running to stop a fight – only to find out it’s a strong, tough girl who’s ready for all the smoke (incredibly self-indulgent, as you can see). I plan to create 4 parts to this, so this is currently in the works!

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

“Looks like even pretty girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” his gruff voice spits out. He does his best to look intimidating, but all it garners from you is a low chuckle and a roll of your eyes. You throw your hair in a bun – tight and secure, before gently removing your jewelry.

You can feel the worried eyes of onlookers staring straight at you as you drop your bag on the ground - the soft thud causing the tension in the air to thicken. Pushing the sleeves of your sweater up to your bicep, you assess his frame. He’s 5’5, which would be useful for him if he knew how to use that to his advantage – but you highly doubted that his mind was as calculating as yours.

Although he seemed to have a good idea of how to position himself for a fight, you could see the uneasiness behind his actions. He kept glancing down at his hands as if deciding whether or not they were placed correctly. His legs were subtly swaying as he tried to ground his weight. It was clear – he was an amateur.

“I’d really love to see you try,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face – if this wasn’t an invitation, you don’t know what is.

And you were hoping that he would take you up on that offer.

You’d been trailing him since you caught him trying to take an up-skirt photo of you a couple of stores down the street. Idiot, you thought bitterly, the safety shorts underneath proved to have been a smart choice when you dressed for the day. But… the fact that you had to even prepare for situations like this by dressing “appropriately” made the annoyance you felt bloom into anger.

When you noticed his actions, you immediately grabbed his wrist in a tight hold – your manicured nails digging into the soft skin.

Although the store wasn’t packed, you didn’t want to bring attention to the situation. This wasn’t your first time experiencing a degenerate like this, and you weren’t sure if it would even garner a response from anyone around you.

You were used to dealing with this on your own. This time would be no different.

“I was just in here to buy some pens -you perv,” you muttered as your eyes flashed dangerously into his. You could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Pathetic. Did he really think you wouldn’t notice his constant presence behind your back, or the fact that the brightness of his screen allowed for a clear view of the camera app he was on?

As a result of your grip, he had dropped his phone. You grabbed it before standing up, making sure to scan his camera roll for any other indecent pictures and permanently deleting them before shoving it back into his chest - a firm grip still holding him close to you.

You pulled him even closer, forcing him to bend down a bit so that you could speak in his ear.

“Cut that shit out,” you said softly, but the warning was still there. The grip on his wrist was tightened even more - and you were sure that if you were to look down, you’d see small spots of red forming underneath your nails.

Once released, he simply scoffed as if you had inconvenienced him, and stormed out of the store.

You had thought that was the end of it and continued on with your shopping. But, as you made your way down the street, you saw him in another store doing the same thing to another unsuspecting victim.

Sighing, you waited until he left the store to confront him - but he was fast and efficient as he weaved his way through the foot traffic on the street.

Eventually, you were able to catch up to him - with a firm kick to the back of his knees.

That all leads to the present — you’re surprised by how quickly the once bustling street has cleared out. But, you notice warily that you’re not alone. The people of the town are watching you, and you’re not sure why.

You can faintly hear the whisper of someone on the phone, and you’re just able to make out “…come here now…” before the street falls silent.

“I’d better get started before those Bofurin punks get over here,” the man sneers, and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

You knew that moving to a new town would require some adjustment, but it was your first time hearing the name — Bofurin. Were they another gang? You’d heard about the rumors of the violence that occurred in the town of Makochi and their dislike for outsiders, so you were always careful to keep your head down and your responses to a minimum when you were outside of your apartment.

“Bo-who?” you try to ask, but the man has already started charging towards you, his right arm raised above his head and his hand in a tight fist.

You take in his fast approach and easily sidestep him.

“Oh… you’ve never been in a fight, have you?” you taunt, faux concern on your face as he stumbles to a stop and whips back around to face you in confusion.

“Lucky break,” he huffs out, spitting on the ground next to him before raising his fists again.

You nod in agreement, though your eyes tell a different story. They’re narrowed and icy, observing every little move he makes.

“You’re probably right… why don’t you try again?”

That gets a reaction out of him - he charges again, somehow even faster than before, but this time you race to meet him halfway. He goes to punch for your head, but you’re faster — immediately ducking under his arm and instead getting a good hold underneath his armpit and shoulder as you swing your body onto his back. You use the momentum of your run to raise your legs up and around his neck, crossing them at the ankles behind his head.

He stumbles under the sudden weight and desperately tries to grab at your back to get you off.

Lucky break my ass, you think bitterly.

With your legs tight around his neck, you let go of the grip in your hands, bracing your core and swinging yourself around again before ultimately using that same momentum to flip him over and throw him to the ground on his back.

You’re not dumb — this definitely won’t be enough to render him unconscious. But, with so many witnesses, you’re afraid to do any serious damage. You didn’t want to get driven out of another town again because of your violent streak, and while it was simple to fight one-on-one with a weak opponent, you weren’t keen on pushing your luck with a whole gang.

So, ultimately, you decide that this is a good enough scare for the poor guy — because you were capable of doing so much worse. You leisurely walk up to his gasping form, all the air in his lungs effectively pushed out when he landed flat on his back.

Looking down, you can see the fear in his eyes and the pain on his face. You note the way his body tenses and the way his fingers shake once you crouch down closer to him — as if he was willing for his body to move but simply didn’t have the strength to do so.

“Have you learned your lesson?” you ask — but this time you drop the facade. No smiles, no taunting — your question is direct and your face is devoid of emotion.

You were giving him an out — any fool could see that. But this guy just simply couldn’t take the blow to his ego, and you felt exasperated when he answered with, “What lesson, bitch?”

Figures.

You tutted your tongue as you stood up. Fine, to hell with the people and the town and the Bofurin gang. You could move towns — you’d done it once, you could do it again. But this guy — he needed a rude awakening and you were more than happy to serve it to him on a silver platter. It’s what your brother would’ve done anyway– that thought reassures you.

“I see,” you sneer, “In that case, I’d love to do a crash course with you, motherfuc-“

“Oi — what’s going on here?”

Damnit. You were really looking forward to beating this guy down — but now you have to admit defeat and retreat because no way are you taking on a whole gang by yourself.

“Do you … need some help?” the voice presses on, and you feel your body heat up at the mere question.

No way – did this guy have backup? Perverts stick together, you suppose.

When you turn to face the unknown voice, you’re surprised it’s only a group of 5 guys.

Right away, you note that this group couldn’t possibly be with the man currently gasping by your feet – if the way he’s trying to inch away is anything to go by.

Still … you warily take in their appearance and note the matching uniforms that they have on. Do gangs in Makochi wear uniforms? Is that, like — a thing? Also — why are they so … good looking?

For a split second, your brain fizzles out. You are, after all, just a girl.

You size them up again, this time not as threats but instead as potential love interests.

They’re all fairly taller than you — perfect.

Muscular and strong? Seemingly so.

Great personalities? Um.

You would have to put a pin on that one.

Your eyes are immediately drawn first to the one with pink hair and a brightly patterned shirt. The piercings on his face make you blush – they look so good on him that it quite literally takes your breath away. The way his hair is clipped back makes you wonder what other hairstyles he’s capable of doing – and, as an afterthought, you wonder if his hair smells as good as he looks.

The next one is tall, with his orange hair secured by a white fabric headband. You note his wrist wraps and the kneepad on his leg, as well as the slippers he has on. What kind of fighting does this guy do? His face, though, strikes you as good-natured – and now you’re confused because what is a guy like this doing in a gang?

You breeze over this minor question and move on to the next. This guy — whoa. Black and white hair split down the middle, with heterochromia eyes. This guy is so cool. But his face is all — pink? Maybe it’s a skin condition? And he’s in a gang too? You begin to worry about his health – unaware of the exasperated looks he’s throwing at you.

He says something to you. Was this the guy who spoke up earlier? You’re way too deep in your thoughts to register anything he said. You do notice, however, that his eyes are still on yours.

Is it — is it you? Is there something on your face? For a split second, you worry about your complexion — completely forgetting the fact that you have the body of a wheezing man laid out on the ground next to you.

Slightly behind him, you notice a guy with blonde hair and worried eyes. Like a golden retriever — cute. Weird though, this one seems more frantic than the others. Maybe he’s just joined their gang? You ponder on this as your eyes flit to the next person in line and —

Oh. Oh.

Who is he? One eye is covered by an eye patch — the visible one, though, is warm brown in color and painted with curiosity. Your gaze follows down his long tassel earrings to his calm smile, and you’re pretty sure that your eyes have glazed over.

The lights are on but nobody’s home.

Him — I want to be pummeled by him.

“What’s your problem? Hello? Helloooo?”

“Maybe she’s not talking … on purpose? Is it a strategy?”

“... I don’t think that’s it, Nire-kun.”

The cherry blossoms surrounding your vision and the romantic tune playing in the back of your mind come to a screeching stop.

Monologue = stopped.

Dreams = shattered.

You flush at the realization that you’d probably been staring at them for a good minute or two — in complete silence. If the ground were to swallow you up at that moment, you’d gladly let it happen. No way in a thousand years did you ever think that you’d stop mid-fight to daydream about your opponents.

You can almost feel the flick against your forehead that your brother undoubtedly would’ve done – along with his nagging about not being focused and present during a fight.

God, what is this town doing to you?

You blink your eyes back into focus and your lips part as you draw in a quick breath to quip back, ”I’m BUSY right now — I can’t FIGHT you until I educate this guy firs-“

“BEHIND YOU, HE-,“ the blonde one yells out frantically, finger-pointing at the shadow that just breached your peripheral vision.

Damn.

You’re immediately pulled into a chokehold, one of his arms wrapped tight around your neck, and the other holding your head in place.

From the close proximity, the man is just barely able to hear you muttering under your breath.

“What was that darling? You askin' for forgiveness?” he laughs out, his hold tightening even more and his spit hitting the back of your ear.

You can see that the Bo-something guys are moving towards you, but that infuriates you. How dare they join forces with this pervert to attack one single girl? No way were you letting that happen — not on your life.

You would rather die than let a man get the satisfaction of beating you.

You reach your arms up, locking your fingers behind his neck. Just for shits and giggles, you dig your nails hard into the soft skin, leaving red-dotted crescent marks in your wake.

“I said I wasn’t done TALKING!” you yell, before swinging your legs up and bringing them down fast to plant your feet square on the ground. The momentum causes him to stumble and loosen his grip around your neck and head, and with the strength in your thighs and your arms and good ol’ gravity, you flip him again.

He lands flat on his back once more, and you take that chance to finish him off — by slamming your foot down onto his hand. The same hand that started this whole ordeal. The hand that, at that moment, you decided would serve as his lifetime reminder of the consequences of his actions.

You hear his yowls of pain before you feel the give in his wrist. 27 bones are in the human hand — you had to have broken at least one. You release your foot, and he immediately curls into a fetal position — his hand limp and hanging from his wrist as he cradles it into his chest.

Correction — you definitely broke more than one.

You glance up and see that all 5 guys have stopped in their tracks, varying levels of shock displayed on their faces.

No more games and no more daydreaming – it was time to get serious.

You drop into a fighting stance, your arms raised and your hands in fists. You crack your neck and roll back your shoulders, a dangerous smile on your lips.

“Who’s next?”

୨ৎ Chapter 2

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker #hayato suo #suo hayato x reader #suo hayato #hayato suo x reader #melody writes (& never stops)

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despairat6oclock · 1 month ago

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Merry Christmas, Please don't Call

GN! Reader x ChrisMD

Synopsis: Former lovers rekindle on a lonely Christmas Eve

Word Count: 1.0k~

Contains: angst + fluff at the end if you squint

Warnings: Usage of the term "Y/N", drunk Chris, kinda cringey bear with me

[m.list]

Chris and I had broken up after being together for close to an online documented decade. Why? It seemed neither of us actually knew.

After the breakup, I had decided to find a place close to your old one in central London. As I was just as much in the content creating space as my past lover.

The summer has been hectic, having to find my own footing, pace, and peace alone. Finding peace within oneself was proving more difficult than any self-help book led on.

Tonight was the eve before Christmas, marking it off my calendar with a sigh. The snow falling upon the pavement outside marking it too late to go back home now. I wanted to avoid the bombarding questions I was sure to be met with anyways.

Mixing the last bit of the cookie mixture that would only serve one, a bottle of red wine close by. Its contents dip hidden below its wrapped label.

A sigh slipped past between my lips as I pulled my phone out of my apron pocket. Snapping a picture of the messy scene laid out in front of me for my Instagram. Putting the background music to the first Christmas song that popped up without much care before uploading it to my story. The array of notifications laid out neatly on the top of my phone piqued my interest. With comments from multiple media apps as well as a plethora of text messages from hours ago. One specifically catching my eye.

Not putting any meaning to the message before typing a simple corresponding message in return, no need for animosity.

Going back to my batter mix, setting the few doughy blobs into a tray and into the oven before leaning back and admiring the sight of my goods baking before the reverb of a knock on the front caught my attention with a slight jump in surprise.

Upon opening the door, I'm met with a flushed face, glassy eyed Christopher. With his hair disheveled and arm resting against the door frame as he panted erratically.

“Chris?”

I asked in confusion, head tilted while stepping aside just enough that if he wanted he could come in, he could.

“Please don't push me away.”

He practically pleaded, his free hand in front of him moving with his words.

“Are you ok?”

“I don't know."

Gesturing him with a simple hand gesture, “Please come in, you reek of alcohol.”

Stepping into my flat for the first time, being aware enough to close the door behind himself. Feet planted at the entrance as he took in the sight of the place decorated in a way that he knew was distinctly me.

Meanwhile I was back in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water I knew the man needed.

Hand on his back as I lead his swaying feet to the couch, forcing the glass into his hand.

“What brought you here?”

I questioned softly as I took a seat beside him.

“I actually don't know, I was supposed to be heading home with George."

“Should I call you a car?”

“No no, I'm good,” he spat out behind his water.

I nod, getting up to check on my cookies. If he didn't know why he was here, then he should be on his way soon.

“Do you have any plans?”

He speaks up as I walk away.

“For tomorrow?”

Chris hummed in approval.

“Not much, probably just an evening in.”

“Me neither, we should get breakfast.”

Giving a quiet laugh at his rushed words as I pulled the cookies out of the oven.

“Would that be appropriate?”

With a shrug and a smug smirk, I offered him more water. Which he gladly accepted.

“I like your place.”

“Thank you.”

“This couch used to be ours,”

He commented as he rubbed the cushion, a quick flicking grimace marked my features as I put my oven mitt back onto its pin.

“A lot used to be ours.”

Assuming the alcohol was now speaking for him rather than his brain, I continued my work around the kitchen.

“I had a lot of plans,”

He continued, still mindlessly messing with the fabric of the couch.

“I had a ring. Have. I have a ring. It was supposed to be your Christmas present.”

Eyes glancing at him from afar in intrigue and a bit of forced disinterest as I sip at my wine.

“i still carry it around with me, as if there would still be an opportunity for me to propose”

The ruffle of him reaching into his pocket and the click of the ring box opening was enough for my eyes to widen as I continued hiding in the kitchen as he continued his drunken rant.

“I don't even remember why we broke up, but I know it was my fault. Something about growing as a people. I was so ready to marry you.”

The sight of him gazing down into the velvet ring box like a sad puppy was enough to make me sigh and the darkness crawl back into my chest.

“Chris, you're gonna regret this in the morning, I'll call you a car.”

Tugging my phone back out of my pocket, I was quickly met with slurred protests.

“No please wait, a few more minutes.”

“Chris-”

“Please Y/N.”

Hands on my shoulders as I surrender to his defense. Shoulder sagging down with my head as it lays on the edge of his shoulder.

“You aggravate me.”

A chuckle that just screams he's smiling escapes his lips

“I know.”

“You should really go.”

Picking my head up to look up at him, his blue eyes meeting mine.

“Just a few more minutes, please.”

But this time instead of a plea, it was a smile and arms sneaking around my own. It wasn't much of a hug, but it still left his pinky rubbing the side of my palm.

“Just a few more.”

I nodded, trying to fight back a smile that matched his dorky grin.

Those few minutes turned into hours, and those hours turned into a night.

A night spent reminiscing under fairy lights and the background sounds of cliché Hallmark movies.

The snow didn't keep either of us in, but that would be the excuse used the next day when either of us were questioned the next day.

That Christmas Eve wasn’t spent with a lover, but the underlying feelings were more than a friend.

A/N:

This is my first bit of writing on here, so I hope you enjoyed it if you made it all the way down here!

I always accept advice, and even requests.

Cheers!

#chrismd #chrismd x reader #chrismd fanfiction #YouTuber #uk youtubers #chrismd x you #chrismd youtube #despairat6oclock #chrismd imagine #youtube imagine #oneshot #fanfiction #chrismd oneshot

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builtbybrokenbells · 9 months ago

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Partners In Crime

The cure for heartbreak is truth, but what do you do when the truth is the source of heartbreak itself?

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, unrequited love, mentions of cheating/cheating, lots of pining and yearning, unreturned feelings, self doubt, anxiety, anger, depression, marriage/weddings, breakups, crying, mentions of blood/bleeding, being left at the altar, self sabotage, self doubt, eloping, kissing, confessing feelings, drinking, swearing, childhood friends to lovers, sorry if i miss any!

some Jake angst bc i guess I’m not suffering enough right now. much love, hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Jake’s POV

A rose, so strikingly beautiful in its own simplicity. The petals, blood red with intent to steal attention, surrounded by pillowy emerald leaves to frame the picture of her. The smell, sickeningly sweet. The perfume could choke you, suffocate you with its fragrant aura all whilst convincing you that you were okay, and that it would never hurt you. The silk of the petal against the skin of your fingertips, soft and inviting, forever making you wonder how anything could ever be so easy to love.

And then the hand slips, tumbling recklessly past the flowing leaves and grazing over the violent stem. The thorns, the only protection for the beauty above, sticking into your skin as the aching pain begins to spread. Crimson, not just from the leaves, now flows effortlessly from the wound produced by the one thing you’d fallen hopelessly for, reminding you that sometimes, not even love is enough to spare you from the hurt.

The skin, barely even broken, makes you wonder if you were even harmed at all, or if it was a figment of your own imagination, showing you the plausible outcome as it begged you to take a step back. As you brought your hand to the high quality wool of your suit jacket, swiping away the memory of your injury, you knew it could not be false. It hurt too badly to be anything but true, for even dreams did not sting quite the same. As you raise your fist to the oak door, one fancier than you’ve ever seen before, the ache suddenly spreads far beyond the tip of your finger, settling deep in your chest and wrapping around your spine as you wait for an answer.

Not even a shuffle is heard from the other side, and you wonder if maybe you should walk away, or if knocking was a good idea at all. You wonder if she’s in there, weepy-eyed with a smile while she stares at her reflection in the mirror and a dozen hands worked to zip up the back of her dress. You wonder what the dress looked like, if it was intricately beaded or plastered with lace, or maybe it was a silk slip that screamed elegance that matched her entirety.

You need not wonder, because wondering was never something you had to do on her behalf. You knew her, and you knew her better than the back of your hand. More than that, you were certain you had studied her far beyond what you’d ever known about the rosewood fret of your SG. You knew she was in the room, dressed perfectly in white lace extending down to her wrists, cascading delicately to the floor behind her as she walked. Her hair was twisted up, the loose pieces by her face hanging down to accentuate the warmth of her cheeks, just like always. Her hands, perfectly manicured and searching too busy themselves as she tried her best not to break a nail or chip away at the polish. She was tapping one foot against the ground, her heart beating so hard in her chest you could nearly hear it from the hallway, but despite her anxiety, she held a soft, warm smile on her lips.

She was not an open book, but you’d dedicated a lifetime to knowing her. Months and miles could separate you, and you would find her again the exact same as how you left her. Sometimes, things never changed, and thankfully, she was one thing that never wavered.

You knew her so well, and seeing her after so much time away, the same picture as you’d seared in your mind every night alone in a hotel room, was always comforting. It wrapped you in a blanket of warmth, filling your heart with so much love it might burst from your chest. She was everything, and she reminded you of that fact every time she graced you with her presence.

Unfortunately, her company often came with more than just that.

When the door opened, revealing the picture you’d already created in your mind, you were reminded of that fact worse than ever before.

“Jake?” She breathed, her lips glossy and her eyes sparkling to match. Her hair was twisted up, just as you’d imagined it would be, dazzling with a clip covered in gems. The soft locks of hair hung around her face, the same ones she could never seem to get a handle on. This time, it was purposeful, and you knew she’d given in to the lack of control rather than fighting it. “I can’t believe you made it.” The smile on her face was striking, but as breathtaking as it was, it hurt worse than it helped your aching heart.

“You didn’t really think I would miss your big day?” You forced the words out, wondering why you couldn’t just appreciate the moment rather than dread the future. You extended your arm, holding out the flower, you realized it had nothing on her. As beautiful as you once believed it was, seeing her stand in front of you dressed in the wedding gown and dolled to perfection, you knew nothing could ever hold a candle to her. Not even the blood red petals and the emerald leaves.

No, especially not something as simple as that.

“Here,” you said, watching her gaze down upon the single flower held in your hand. “Figured there would be lots of white today, so maybe some color would break up the monotony a bit.” Another smile graced her lips, so big the apples of her cheeks would start to ache if she held it for any amount of time.

You wanted to see her smile, so why did it hurt so much?

More than that, why did it hurt so bad to love something that was so easy to fall in love with?

“You always know what to say, Jacob.” She whispered, grabbing it from your grasp, her eyes never straying from the ruby red petals. “I never should have doubted you.” It looked a million times better in her hands than it ever did it yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the thorns never once thought to prick her skin, fearful of harming something so beautiful.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You chuckled, finding the ache ease the more she spoke. The soft sound hit your ears, quickly making itself the most important thing in the entire room. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” And it was the truth, even if you knew you shouldn’t be saying it. “Not that you don’t look beautiful every day.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, finally looking up to catch your eye. She held the stare for a moment, and just like every other time, you could have sworn there was something there, something deeper than the surface level shit the two of you were spewing to each other.

If there was, you were still a coward, and when you thought about addressing it, your palms broke into a sweat and your stomach twisted in a knot.

Maybe if you had found the courage all those years ago, you’d never be standing before her now, watching her get married. Maybe, you would be the one waiting to marry her.

“Do you want to come in?” She asked, her eyes flickering past you, settling on the wallpapered drywall in the hallway. She blinked a few times, seemingly trying to bring herself back to reality. You wanted to ask, but you were afraid of the answer.

“F’course. Think we’ve got some catching up to do.” Catching up before she could never be bothered to think of you again, is what you should have said. After all, it was the truth, no matter how badly it hurt.

“Definitely.” She let out a giggle, throwing the door open and stepping back. As soon as you let yourself move forward, you felt like you were punched in the stomach. In the air lingered a perfume you’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. It was the sweetest smell that you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. You’d spent nights with your head buried under the covers, your lips ghosting the skin of other women to try and drown the memory of her, but it never worked. When you woke in the morning, you always seemed to yearn for the same thing. Everything paled in comparison, soured just by the knowledge that something so special existed. “Everything got pushed back a little bit, but I’m trying not to panic. The day is still good, we’re here, we’re happy, even if it is a little bit later than expected.”

Happy.

Bold choice of words, sweetheart.

“What happened?” You asked, your eyes floating around the room, taking in everything it had to offer. Bridal suites were always so feminine, divine in their own special way. Billowy curtains, a stunning aerial view of the yard, porcelain white bathrooms and neat towels folded at every corner. It was perfect, everything in place, but it wasn’t her. Although she was perfect and pristine at first glance, she loved mess. For her entire life, she’d strewn clothes across the floor, leaving water bottles behind wherever she went. She loved nature, the feeling of earth on her skin and sand between her toes. Many times you’d walk in on her, paint covering her clothes and splattered on her face because she tried to repaint her bedroom all on her lonesome.

She was perfect in her chaos, and it was one of the very things that made you love her in the first place.

You wondered if her soon to be husband loved her for the very same things. You didn’t know him, nor did you know much about him. When you talked, it was never about him, but rather the life you two once dreamed of building together. Your job had taken you away from home, away from her, and as much as you missed her, you were grateful you never had to watch her fall in love with someone else. At the same time, it made you uneasy, unsure if you could watch your best friend fall into the arms of a man you knew nothing about. You dreaded the idea that he did not love her for those quirks, and that in your time away, his subjective love had made her change.

You looked to the bed, where she would have slept the night before, noticing the sheets pulled from the corners and the pillows nearly falling off the sides. The bag that once protected her dress was flipped inside out, thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed and long forgotten. A sadness washed over you, knowing that he did love her the same way. Then, you felt guilty for being sad at all; you should be jumping for joy that such a wonderful woman was being loved the way she deserved.

Even so, you could not shake the feeling of knowing you could love her better than anyone ever had, if she’d just give you the chance.

Then again, how could she ever give you a chance when you had always been too afraid to ask?

“No point in getting into it. Doesn’t matter now, does it?” She said, her tone light and the look in her eyes far away. You took a step towards the window, taking a long look outside. Rows of chairs were placed in the large field, the pond in the background decorated with lily pads and the birds sat upon trees in the distance singing love ballads. You wanted to be happy, but your stomach felt like it was filled with lead and your bones were heavy with the weight of your grief.

Tell her.

“It is important, sweetheart. It’s always important, to me at least.” Of course you could not tell her. Every time you thought about voicing your love for her, your throat closed around the words and your tongue petrified. Your heart raced, your whole body vibrating with the intensity of the emotion you felt for her, yet sentenced to a lifetime of never being able confess your sins.

Loving her in itself was not a sin, but by god did it feel like one. It was your biggest secret, and your largest skeleton in the closet. It loomed over your head wherever you went, and it clung to the fibers of your being no matter how hard you tried to shake it off. At five years old, with mud streaked cheeks and grass stains on your knees, you loved her the same. At twelve, with cracking voices and awkward statures, you still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. At eighteen, when you were lucky enough to bring her as your date to senior prom, you swore you would never feel the same for another woman, and you still hadn’t. Just a few days ago, thousands of miles away, she was the only thing you wanted. With her wedding invitation folded in your wallet, her name in your phone with a heart beside it despite the years being unkind to your friendship, she was the only thing you ever wanted to come home to.

“No, because if I talk about it, I’ll psych myself out again.” At that, a spark of hope ignited in your chest.

“Again?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, looking out at the yard too. A few guests were sat already, preparing for the main event. The event in which would forever haunt you. “I mean, it’s my wedding, the biggest day of my life. I think it’s normal to be anxious?” She posed it like a question, like she wanted you to tell her she was wrong, but you couldn’t. If you were to have her, it wouldn’t be like this. It wasn’t fair to ruin this for her for your own selfish purposes.

“Talk me through it, maybe I can help.” You offered. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, gentle and quiet as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress.

“I didn’t picture it like this.” She whispered, looking towards the floor. “I always thought I’d wake up on the morning of my wedding day, and I’d be overjoyed. I-I mean, I am, just not the way I thought I would be. I woke up, and it was cloudy outside. The sun’s not even shining, Jake.” You wanted to sit beside her, to pull her into your arms and tell her the sun was not shining because he was not the man she was supposed to marry, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, yearning to be the one who she was excited yet nervous to marry. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” She huffed, shaking her head at herself.

“Stop it, you always do that.” You said, stepping towards her. She looked up at you, noticing you were closer than before. Her stare paralyzed you, ensuring you could not progress any further. “You always act like how you feel isn’t important, but it is, Y/N. To me, it is.”

“But it’s not, Jake. I just have the jitters. Once I get out there and say my vows, it’ll be better. I know it will be.”

How do you know?

How does she know that when the curtain closes and the sun draws near the earth, that she’ll be happy with her decision? How does she know that even under the warm golden hue on the earth as it prepares for the night, the uncertainty would flee? How does she know that she won’t decide he’s not the one for her, only after it’s too late?

“If you say so, sweetheart.” You nod, biting back a sorrowful smile. She was looking at you, studying you, waiting for you to say something else. You wondered if she was waiting for you to say the very thing you’d sworn yourself to secrecy about.

Of course she didn’t. She was getting married, and not to you.

Still, there was this hint of hope in her eye you couldn’t help but pick up on. It was the same hope that you so often felt when you were with her.

“Anyway, enough about me and my woes… how was Europe? I’m sure much more exciting than consoling a pitiful bride.”

Never.

You would console her every minute of every day and you would never get tired of it, nor would you wish to be anywhere else. She was what you wanted, no matter the circumstance. You wanted her for all she was, the sadness, happiness and anger combined. You didn’t want her on technicalities nor did you want only the good parts. You loved her so dearly that you’d even take the worst from her, if that was all she was ever willing to give you.

“It was good,” You cleared your throat as you spoke, finding a lump steadily growing within it.

“That’s it?” She forced a chuckle out, clearly picking up on your distance. “Give me more than that. How can I live vicariously through you if that’s all you have to say about it?” There was humour in her tone, but she meant what she said. She still wanted to be there with you.

“Yeah, it was good.” You nodded, feigning a little more excitement. “It’s beautiful there.”

“Was it everything we ever dreamed of?” The simple question hit you like a brick, the sheer weight of her words nearly making you double over in pain. Suddenly, you were sixteen again, crowded in her tiny bedroom and sharing a comforter on her twin mattress. The air was chilly and the lights were dim, your bodies close, but never as close as you wanted to be. Laughter hung thick in the air, keeping you warm just as well as the blanket as you talked about dreams and fears of the future.

Out of all the fears, you never seemed worried about her not being a part of your biggest dreams.

Maybe you had been scared of all the wrong things.

“You would have loved it, Angel.” You confessed, looking away from her so you did not have to see the sadness on her face. “I wished you were with me every step of the way.”

“I should have went,” she whispered, pain clear in her voice the same as it was in your own. “In the beginning, I should have went with you when you asked. Maybe we could have done all the things we used to talk about.”

“You still can.” The words slipped out effortlessly, and you wished you could take them back. The sentiment hung heavy in the air, both of you knowing the meaning was much deeper than it seemed. “I mean… You know, you can always come visit, see the sights and stuff.” Your cover up was pathetic, but it was the best you could do in the moment.

“You guys still want me there?” She asked, surprising you with her intrigue. You’d expected a blunt rejection, but she was humouring your ideas. You turned to look at her again, unable to keep your eyes off of her. A small smile blossomed on your lips, a real one that could only be accredited to her.

“Y/N, there’s not a day that goes by that we don’t want you there with us.” It was the truth, even if it was heavy. She took in a long breath, looking down at her attire for a moment before catching your eye again.

“I think about it more than I should.” She admitted, shy about still living within that same daydream whilst oblivious to the fact that you’d never left it. Your heart fluttered at the idea of her still thinking about spending her days with you, sharing hotel rooms and building a new life together, away from your hometown, away from him. “Come sit with me?” She asked, hopeful that you would oblige.

Josh had told you not to walk into the building, not to knock on her door with sad eyes and a broken heart. At the time, you thought he was ridiculous for suggesting such a thing, knowing you needed to see her. Now that she was looking at you, more beautiful than ever, you knew he was right. It was a bad idea to come, and a worse idea to sit beside her when you knew it would do nothing but break your heart further. As you stepped towards the bed, sitting next to her, you just hoped that you would not break her heart the same as you were breaking your own.

You were still, staring forward instead of turning your body towards her like you so badly wanted to. Then, without warning, her hand reached out for yours, settling so cautiously over the back of your hand. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, just as wonderful as it was all of those years ago. You could not remember the last time anything felt so good.

Tell her.

“I’m really glad you came, Jake.” She said, quiet as a mouse as if her confession was a crime.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do,” She agreed, but it was strained. “It’s just… been so long since I’ve seen you. I was worried I might not be as important to you anymore.”

She wanted to be important to you. Even now, when she was minutes away from being someone else’s, she would always be a little bit yours.

She had never been yours, but in some strange way, you both had the inkling that she was.

“You’ll always be important to me, angel.” You said, feeling her perfume begin to suffocate you. It was lethal, but you knew if you walked away, you would beg to come back just to die at her hands. “Do you remember when we were kids and you used to dream about this day? How I always told you I’d be here to hold your hand through it, just so you don't get scared and run away?”

“Yeah,” she let out a small laugh, but her mind was far away. You wondered what she was thinking, and you wondered if you even wanted to know. As terrible as it was, you hoped she was thinking about you. “How tightly can you hold my hand?” She asked, her tone airy and light, like she wheezed the words past her lips.

“What?” You asked, keeping the smile on your face as you turned your head to look at her. There was something unfamiliar in her eyes.

She was afraid.

For the first time in your life, you had to swallow the fact that the bravest person you knew was afraid of the future. No matter the circumstances, she had always been prepared. Even when your bags were packed and you held a plane ticket in your hand, ready to fly away from everything you’d ever known, away from her, she was not scared. You were terrified, tears in your eyes with shaking hands, but she never wavered and instead, encouraged you to follow your dreams. She kissed your cheek and hugged you tight, reassuring you that you could do anything you put your mind to.

If that was true, you would be able to say the words.

Jesus Christ, Jacob. Tell her. Time is running out.

You felt panicked, waiting for her to respond. You needed to say the words, but they were stuck in your throat again. You didn’t want to lose her, but your own cowardice was seeing that through.

“I want to run.”

Please, Y/N, run away.

Don’t do this.

“Why, sweetheart? I thought this was what you wanted? You looked so happy in the pictures on the invitation.” Convincing her to leave would be selfish, and she needed you to be selfless. You would be anything she needed, even if it was not what you wanted. “Is… is he good to you?”

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded, solemn in her answer. “He’s great.”

“…but?”

“But, I don’t think he’s what I want.” The words were like a breath of fresh air, a million pounds lifted off your shoulders. You were so featherlight that you felt like you were floating away. Hearing her say it was a relief, but it did not stop you from feeling guilty about it. “Everyone said it was okay to be nervous, but I don’t think it’s normal to doubt it. My mom said she was nervous to marry my dad, but she was so certain he was what she wanted. I’m… I’m not. I don’t know if I’m ready to give up my freedom, my last name. I don’t know if I can commit to him for a lifetime, because I can barely even commit to him right now.”

You wanted to ask. You needed to know if that meant what you thought it did.

Fucking tell her.

“I woke up today sick to my stomach, and it hasn’t stopped. I’m sitting here, and… ugh, fuck.” She groaned, her free hand flying to her forehead in exasperation. “I’m the worst, Jake. He’s so good to me, and I just… I don’t want him to be. The last few months, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to leave. If I do and nothing changes, then I’m the bad guy, and I don’t want that. It’s just… I love him, but I’m not in love, I don’t think. It’s boring, and every day is the same. When you’re in love, boring is nice, but this boring is just… boring.”

“Keep talking.” You encouraged, knowing that no matter which way it went, she needed to speak her mind.

“He doesn’t want to do anything. We don’t go anywhere, we don’t go on dates. We just sit at home and stare at each other. It’s been months since we’ve had fun, and I don’t know if I want a lifetime without fun. Even today… I didn’t want this. The big ceremony and the expensive dinner… it’s not me. I hate it, and he thinks I love it.”

You knew it wasn’t her, but you wanted to believe that she was the one who picked it. Hearing her say it broke your heart, knowing that this was not what she dreamed of when you two were kids. It was not what you wanted for her, either.

“I kicked my bridesmaids out because I needed time alone to calm down, and I thought it would work being away from the wedding stuff for a minute. I guess it did, but it wasn’t in the way I hoped it would be.” You reached into your suit jacket, your fingers searching for the inside pocket. They closed around the cool metal, pulling it from its hiding place as you extended your arm towards her. You knew you would need it to get through the day, but you didn’t expect her to need it, too. She looked down at the flask, her lips quirking into a soft smile. She grabbed it from you, placing her painted lips against the opening and throwing her head back.

“I’m your best man, y/n. I need to know if you want me to hold your hand so you’ll stay, or if you want me to start the car so we can get you out of here.”

“Don’t give me that option.” She chuckled, shaking her head as the whiskey burned her chest. Her cheeks turned rosy in reaction to the alcohol, reminding you she was still the same girl she was all of those years ago.

“Why, ‘cause you’ll take it?” You challenged.

“Yeah,” She nodded, answering without hesitation as she watched you take a sip, too.

“Then that’s your answer, doll. Don’t force yourself to stay when all you want to do is run. You feel that way for a reason.” Suddenly, convincing her to leave was no longer your best interest, but hers, too. You did not care what happened outside of the room so long as she was happy, and it appeared to you that she would not be so long as she stayed.

It just so happened to be the option that would make you the happiest, too.

“Thought you were supposed to hold my hand and make me stay? That’s what I always told you to do.”

What if I don’t want to do that?

“Is that what you want?” You asked, noticing your hand still held tightly in her own. She didn’t seem to want to let go.

“No… maybe? I don’t know.” She sighed.

“I always promised I’d do what’s best for you, Y/N, and if holding your hand and making you stay isn’t what you want, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Tell her.

“Would you hold my hand and help me run away?”

“That’s what best friends do, is it not?” You grinned, taking another sip from the flask.

“A best friend would tell me I’m insane, I think.”

“Right,” you give a slow nod, chuckling to yourself. “We’ve always been more like partners in crime, I think.”

“I’d say.” She laughed, nodding with you. “I missed you, Jake.” Your hand tightened over hers, your heart beating a million miles a minute. She held your stare, again adorning that same hopeful glimmer.

Is this what she wanted, or were you only seeing it in such a way because you wanted it so badly? Was she dropping you hints, or were you crazed by how dearly you loved her? Worst of all, should she actually run, or were you encouraging it because you couldn’t stand the thought of her staying?

“I missed you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

“I feel good, Jake. Better than I have all day.” She confessed, intertwining your fingers with her own and rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand.

“Maybe you just needed to get it out and get on with your day?” You offered, saddened at the thought.

“No,” she shook her head, her voice quiet again. “It’s ‘cause you’re here. Been looking forward to today, but I think the only reason why is because I knew you’d be here.”

Love could not begin to describe how you felt for her, especially after hearing her say such things.

“Is that bad? I’m more excited to see you today than my future husband.” She said, her face plagued with guilt and her beautiful smile fading into a frown. In an instant, your hesitancy faded and you reached your hand out to cup her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, relief showering the both of you. Touching her felt like finally being home after a nasty bout of homesickness. You ran your thumb over her cheek, the makeup littering her skin not even thinking of smudging under your touch.

She was not the thorny rose that hurt you. She was not a beautiful thing that hurt to love. She was the petals, beautiful and breathtaking, and you were the thorn drawing your own blood.

Not once in this lifetime had she ever hurt you. You had become the one who was an expert at harming yourself. In that moment, the ache in your chest had nothing to do with how easy she was to love, and everything to do with the fact you had always been too scared to say it aloud. Relationships with others and miles between you could not dampen the adoration you felt for her, but that was not her fault. If only you had the strength to tell her, maybe the hurt would ease for both of you.

“I want to have fun with him, like the two of us used to have. I want every minute to seem easy, like it does with us, but it isn’t. It’s hard more than it’s ever been simple, and I don’t think that’s how I want to live my life.”

Was she saying it? Were you hearing the words you’d forced yourself to hold back? Was she saying everything you had been feeling all this time?

Tell her, Jacob.

“Even if I do change my mind, I’ve been in here all day saying these terrible things. How can I go out there and marry him after doubting it so much?”

She wanted you to answer her questions, but it was a dead end for both of you. If you encouraged it, it would be an admission of betrayal for her. You were her best friend, the one person who promised not to hurt her. If you encouraged her to run, you might be hurting her far more than it would help her. If you told her to stay, you were faced with the haunting feeling that both of you would look back on this moment and regret the decision.

“Answer this,” you said, keeping your gaze on her as you spoke. “In thirty years, if you marry him today, will you regret staying? Or if you leave, will you look back in thirty years and feel like you made a mistake?”

“I-I can’t answer that Jake. I don’t know.” There was a glossy look in her eye, one that spoke volumes. It was louder than any word she had spoken thus far. The fear and hesitation was clear in her face, and you wanted to comfort her, but you did not know how.

When you got on that plane, flying home to her, you never expected to be faced with such a situation. You never expected to feel hopeful about today, especially after you had spent so many months dreading it.

“I guess… it would be easier to regret leaving than regret staying, right?” She breathed. “If I stay, I’m wasting thirty years. If I leave, I can spend that time learning to love life in other ways, and maybe I’ll never think it was a mistake at all.”

“Right,” You nodded, looking back out the window, noticing people filling chairs. Your heart dropped to your stomach, wondering if she would follow through with her thoughts, or if she would stay out of obligation. Could you keep her occupied for long enough so she could come to the right decision? “I can’t tell you what to do, sweetheart, but I can support whatever you decide.”

“Will… will you take me to Europe with you?” She asked, her eyes pooling with unshed tears. “You’re going back, right? I-I… I want to do what we talked about. I want to travel the world Jake, with you.” She stammered out, as if she couldn’t believe her own words. “I know I sound crazy, I know I do, but I’m not. You’re… you’re my whole world, the only thing that’s ever made sense to me. You’re my best friend, and there’s so many things we promised that we never got to do. I don’t want to miss out on that, or be stuck in my hometown knowing I made a mistake by letting you walk away again.”

“Y/N,” You warned, wondering if she realized the extent of what she was telling you. Suddenly it all became real, and it was much larger than the fantasy you had been living in since you sat down beside her.

Josh was right, and you were breaking your own heart by entertaining an impossible idea.

“No, don’t tell me I’m wrong. I dont want to hear it.” She shook her head, silently pleading with you to be honest with yourself just for one second.

She felt it too. You have to tell her.

“Jake, take me to Europe. I want to see the world. I want to be with you again, and Josh and Sam, and Danny too. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted this. I don’t want to wait a year before I see you again and… I just, I can’t.” She was saying it in every way she knew how, without having to say the actual words aloud. “He’s not the person I should be marrying, Jake.”

You wanted to tell her everything, how you wanted it even more than she did, but it was not right. She was nervous, second guessing because of cold feet on the biggest day of her life. You could not take her away from this and ruin everything. You could not take her away and have her regret choosing you. Making her unhappy would be the biggest mistake of your life, and you would never be able to repent from it.

“Listen to me,” you said, taking her face between your hands, gentle and telling of all the love you had for her. “You wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t right, sweetheart. You are the most self-assured, smart, and level-headed person I know, and right now, this isn’t you. You’re getting married, angel. You’re going to go outside and walk down the aisle and steal everyone’s breath away, because you are the most beautiful thing that’s ever graced this earth. You’re getting married, and you’re going to be happy. I promised you I’d be here to hold your hand so you couldn’t run, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Jake,” she protested, her bottom lip quivering as tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks. “What happened to whatever I decide? What happened you supporting me no matter what? Why would you let me say all of that just to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Maybe I lied,” you whispered, swiping away a stray tear. “Trust me when I say, I want you to come with us so badly, but I don’t want you to regret it. Right now, I think you will.”

“I won’t, Jake. Been thinking about it since you got on the plane last time. Every time, really.” She shook her head, panic beginning to set it. More tears made an appearance, and you did your best to wipe them away as soon as they fell.

You loved her enough to do what was best, even if it killed you to do it.

“Don’t cry, angel. Only happy tears, today.” You hummed, pulling her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around you, holding you as if her life depended upon it. You held her just the same, knowing she had no idea how much it meant to you to have her in your arms. She had no idea how much it meant to you that she wanted to go with you, instead.

That was the reason you had to make her stay, though. You could not in good faith allow her to run away, because deep down, the motive would always be just a little bit selfish.

“I love you, Jake.” She said it with so much conviction that it was hard to ignore. She said it like a confession, rather than a fact.

“I love you, sweetheart.” And yours was a confessional statement too, even if she did not realize it. Just as the words left your lips, a knock sounded on the door. It forced the two of you apart, even if it was painful for the both of you. You brought your thumb to her face again, carefully swiping away the specs of mascara that had fallen. Her sadness plagued her, but it did not stand in the way of her beauty. Once she was back in perfect condition, you urged her to answer the door.

She stood, white gown flowing angelically behind her as her fingers wrapped round the golden doorknob. She pulled it open, now face to face with her mother, who was so busy jittering with excitement she failed to notice the grief written across her daughters face. She looked in the room, her eyes landing on you and widening with a joyous shock, happy to see you had made the occasion.

Would her mother be this happy if she knew you almost ruined her daughters big day?

She barely uttered a greeting before turning back to the girl you loved so dearly. “It’s time, sweetheart. Your dad is waiting outside. Are you ready?”

Are you ready? The question pounded in your ears like a drum, louder with every passing moment.

Is she ready?

Are you ready?

Tell her, Jake.

She looked back at you over her shoulder, stunning and breathtaking as if she was waiting for you to answer for her. Her mother watched you, only slightly concerned about the tension in the air.

“She’s ready.” You forced a smile, nodding your head. Her eyes caught yours as she pleaded with you to stop, to stop everything and stay in the room with her for just a little while longer.

She wanted you, the same as you wanted her, but you were not good for her. You were just the thing that was standing in the way of her forever. If it was meant to be, it would have happened all of those years ago.

Right?

Tell her.

“Will you walk with me?” Her voice, sweet as honey and smooth as silk, settled deep somewhere in your heart with no intent to leave. Would you walk with her? Could you handle such heartbreak?

“Of course, sweetheart.” You nodded, taking a stand. You straightened out your jacket, drawing in a long breath as reality began to take hold.

This was it. The very thing you’d had nightmares about your entire life. The love of your life, vowing to love someone else for the rest of hers.

Her mother straightened her hair for her, running a soft hand over the line of her shoulders where lace met soft skin. She ensured she was pristine, not a thread out of place before kissing her cheek and promising to meet her out there. She looked at you only, her gaze never faltering.

She wanted you, Jacob. Only you.

Her mother disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in heavy silence once again. It felt like weights were tied around your ankles, holding you there and sentencing you to an eternity spent in limbo.

Tell her.

“Let’s go, angel.” You said, taking a step towards her. Her eyes, pleading again, but her mouth did not move. She stood, stoic and statue-like. She was petrified from her own heart, unsure if she could take the heartbreak of having you give her away.

“Okay.” She whispered, her throat scratchy and her hands trembling. She reached out to you, the action telling you she still needed you to hold her hand and make her stay. You grabbed on to it, lacing your fingers together once more, unable to ignore how right it felt. “Please stay with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” Your chest was tight, burning with rage towards yourself. Why couldn’t you do it? Why were you biting your tongue if it was only hurting the both of you more? You swore yourself to secrecy, letting yourself believe that the truth was more painful than silence, but that was no longer true. The truth would set you free, and possibly even allow you to love the one thing you never allowed yourself to have.

The hallway was barren, but voices were in the distance. Happy, bubbly, excited. The echoes were the exact opposite of the emotion hanging between you two. She should feel that way. Why didn’t she feel that way? She was happy before you showed up, stealing the light from her eyes even on her biggest day.

Was she, though? Really and truly happy?

You two walked together, the personification of grief becoming you both despite the joy you were supposed to be feeling. When you neared the end of the hallway, you had to stop. The world was spinning, seemingly crumbling before your eyes. Your stomach was sick, your palms sweating and your knees ready to give out under your weight. You couldn’t do it, even if you promised her you would.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, panicked at your sudden loss of confidence.

“I…” you trailed off, looking over her face. “I can’t,” you shook your head.

“You can’t?” You can’t what?” She pressed, anger bubbling inside of her. She needed honesty, and she needed it now. Why couldn’t you muster the strength?

“I can’t go out there.”

tell her.

Tell her.

Tell Her.

Fucking Tell Her, Coward.

“I can’t… I can’t watch you marry someone else.”

The world appeared normal, the sun still desperately trying to peek out from underneath the clouds and the birds still singing their pitiful love songs. The chatter remained in the hallway, unchanged and unbearable. Her hand still rested in your own, and her eyes were still watching you. Your heart was still beating, and your knees did not give way. The same look was on her face, and the glimmer in her eyes never changed.

The world looked the same, but everything was different.

Finally, after a lifetime of holding it back, you told her the truth.

“Why?” She asked, desperate to hear you say it. Her expression was not one of horror, but one of great hopefulness. “Tell me Jake. I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You rasped, your own throat dry as your words came out with a nervous wobble. “I can’t watch you marry him, because I’m in love with you.”

“Fuck, Jake.” The words hit you hard, like a knife even though she did not brandish them like a weapon. “Took you long enough, don’t you think?” You we’re too immersed in your own confession to care about her chastise. You opened the flood gates, and now there was no sign of stopping.

“When we were five, I loved you. Way back when we used to make mud pies and play pretend in my parents’ front yard, I wanted to do it with you for the rest of my life. When we were twelve, I loved you. We didn’t know what love meant, but we knew how much we meant to each other. When we were sixteen, making plans in your bedroom to travel the world together, I loved you so much it hurt. Right now, I love you the same as I did then, but even more so, because I know what it means, and I know it’s never going to go away.” You confessed, feeling the weight of the world being lifted from you. “Europe wasn’t everything we dreamed of, because you weren’t there. You weren’t there, Y/N, and I spent every night wishing you were. I came home to watch you get married, but I can’t do it, because I love you too much.”

“I can’t get married, Jake.” She said, looking over her shoulder to ensure nobody was onlooking the situation between you.

“I wanted to encourage you, to make sure you followed through with it because you deserve this life, sweetheart. You deserve the house, the dogs and the expensive ring and fancy wedding venue. You deserve everything, but I was always so afraid I couldn’t give it to you. Right now, I’m afraid that nobody could ever give you what I could, because nobody could ever love another person this way, this much.”

“You give me everything, Jake. You gave me the world when we were five, and you’re giving me the world right now, without even knowing it.” She said, the tears rushing to her eyes again. “I can’t get married to him, because I only ever wanted to marry you.” Her cheeks were damp with her misery, feeling guilty on behalf of a man she did not love nearly half as much as you. “I made this life, this new dream because you left, and I was afraid I’d never get the chance to live out the dream we made when we were kids. I spent all day unsure if I was making the right decision, but you showed up at my door, and now I know that I’m not. Marrying him has never been the right decision, and if I go out there, I’ll be looking for you in the crowd, wishing it was you standing beside me, instead.”

“Make the right decision, then.” You pleaded, knowing you could not make the first move. “Make the right decision, Y/N, because I’ve always been too scared to do it myself. Make the right decision before we lose our chance, please.”

She sprung forward, her hand slipping from yours and instead wrapping around your neck. One hand anchored on her hip and the other cupped her cheek, drawing her into you as she pressed her lips to your own. It was a feeling you’d been waiting a lifetime for, but the daydreams never came close to how it truly felt.

You told her, and she made the right decision, just like it was always meant to be. You’d been so afraid of something you never needed to fear, because she loved you just the same.

You could feel her tears on your cheeks as she pulled away, but the smile on her face contradicted the inkling of sadness that lingered on her skin.

“Happy tears, Jake.” She said, her face still so close to your own. “I’m happy, now. I’m not second guessing it, because I’ve spent the last six months making sure this was how I truly felt. Today was the last piece of the puzzle. You walking in that door made everything make sense. As much as it hurts to leave him here, it would hurt him much more if I married him while I was in love with someone else.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You said, running your fingertips over the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed again, enamoured with the feeling of you touching her.

“Don’t be,” She shook her head. “I could have said it too, but it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is we said it now, before it was too late.”

“You’re dad’s gonna kill me.” She let out a laugh, the first genuine one since you got there.

“No, he’ll be fine. He likes you much more than he likes him.” She assured you. “My mom, though, is a different story. She’ll get over it.” She promised, leaning forward and pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “But, if we’re gonna make a break for it, we should go now, before anyone comes looking for us.”

“Right,” You grinned, nodding in response. “Let’s go get your things. I’ll text Josh.”

“He’s here too?” Her face lit up at the knowledge. You nodded, smiling at her joy.

“Everyone is.”

“Oh, god. They’ll be a witness to my craziness.” She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. The emotion was high, surging through the both of you like never before.

“Your crazy is mine too, angel.” You said, giving her hip a squeeze. “Partners in crime, remember?”

“Right.” She said, grinning up at you.

Without another word, she led you back towards the suite. You closed the door behind you, giving her just enough time to grab the most important things. You watched her scribble a note down on the back of a wedding invitation, likely an apology for the now ex-fiancé she left hanging. As you watched, you couldn’t help but smile, falling more in love with her by the second and only feeling slightly bad for the man she was leaving behind. He was losing the best girl in the world, but you could not dwell on his loss, because it was your gain. You were walking away with the love of your life, and he was losing a fiancé. You were sure the poor guy could find someone else.

To you, if you lost her, you knew there would never be another. Even before you lost her forever, you knew that to be true.

She turned to you, frazzled but still stunning despite her panic. She had a few things clutched tightly in her hand and a change of clothes in her arms, walking towards you and showing you she was not regretting her choice to leave. If anything, she was over the moon, and you could see it in her eyes. Instead of uncertainty, there was happiness sparkling within the beautiful hue of her irises.

“You want me to take that?”

“Yes please.” She breathed, handing the small items off to you. As you grabbed them, you noticed her finger was now ringless. The shiny diamond was sitting atop the goodbye letter, which was stuck in plain sight. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not.” You assured her. “Like I said, if you are, I am too.”

“I’m okay with being crazy together.” She said, more light in her eyes than ever before.

“The guys are gonna meet us in the lot out back, so you can get out of here without any questions. We can worry about the rest later.”

“Okay,” she nodded, a nervous jitter running through her.

“Hey, we’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

“More than anything.” She said, certain in her answer.

“Then let’s get out of here.” You grinned, opening the door for her. She was still in her dress, her change of clothes held tightly to her chest. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she kicked off her heels and kissed your cheek as she passed by. As she sprinted down the hallway, your whole body flooded with love, but this time, you did not need to hold it back. After a lifetime of surpressing it, it finally had somewhere to go.

In true crazy fashion, as you sprinted behind her, another idea popped in your head. You wondered if her crazy had run out, or if she was just crazy enough to go along with it.

You thought you ought to try, because the day had been full of pleasant surprises. After all, the worst she could do was say no.

“Hey,” You called out to her, laughing as she looked back at you over her shoulder. “Slow down for a second.” You pleaded, childlike joy reflecting on both of your faces.

“What’s up?” She asked, a little breathless as her feet slowed to a stop. “Please tell me you’re not changing your mind.”

“What? F’course not.” You waved the idea off, knowing it was completely incredulous. “How impulsive are you feeling right now?”

“Considering I just ran away from my own wedding, I’d say very. Why?” She grinned, her fingers lingering over the handle of the back door, ready to flee at a moments notice.

Perhaps she wasn’t impulsive at all, and the idea of staying was harder for her than trying to leave. She was waiting for you to ask, all of this time. Even as she forced herself to marry someone else, all she ever wanted was you.

“Why waste the dress?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. She watched you for a moment, stunned at your words and unsure if she understood.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you began, checking over your shoulder to ensure nobody was looking for her. “Why waste the expensive dress? Marry me instead.” Her eyes widened, but she did not look horrified at the prospect. “I mean, come on. You’re in a wedding dress, I’m in a suit, I can buy flowers anywhere, and I want to be with you so bad I was willing to object the whole thing in the middle of your vows. If it hasn’t changed in twenty years, I’m sure it won’t change tomorrow.”

“A-are you sure? Like, really sure? You won’t regret it in the morning?” She asked, curious if you were in your right mind.

“I wouldn’t regret it in a million years, my love.” You promised. “I promise I’ll do it right, I’ll buy a ring and we’ll do a ceremony when the smoke clears from this disaster.” You both let out a laugh, knowing that’s exactly what it was. “But why waste the dress, especially when we know what we want?”

“Okay, crazy.” She nodded, cracking the door open. “I’ll marry you. Why waste the dress?”

“You mean it?” You followed behind her, noticing the rocks littering the paved lot and her shoeless feet. You reached out, grabbing her arm before she could step outside. She looked at you, then looked down at you taking your shoes off for her to wear. Her cheeks tinged red, a silent thank you dancing in her eyes as she jumped into the shoes that were just a little too large for her. You looked out into the lot, finding your three brothers standing by your car, waiting for you to join them.

“F’course I do, Jake.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze. “Partners in crime, right?” You couldn’t seem to stop the smile from blooming once again.

“Partners in crime.” You confirmed, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air.

“I love you, Jake.” She said, the sun shining down on her beautiful face, illuminating her in the most perfect picture. You wanted to remember this moment forever. “Feels so good to finally say it.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You replied, taking in your surroundings. As you watched the sunlight shine over her face, your heart soared with affection. “Look,” you said, catching her attention. First, she looked to you, then followed your finger to the sky, where she could see the sun had finally broke free from the clouds, shining down without a single thing brave enough to stop it. “The sun is shining after all, sweetheart.”

As if you needed anything else to solidify that you had made the right decision, but the sun shining, eager to carry you home to start over only correctly this time, was enough to assure you of the importance of your choice. As you led her to the car, watching her eyes light up as she greeted your brothers, you were sickened at the idea you ever had a single shred of doubt at all. She was your partner in crime, whether that be at five years old, or eighty, and you were eternally grateful for that fact alone.

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rispwr · 2 months ago

Text

Hate you - chapter 5 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : idc abt the word count anymore lmao. i will accept my fate that i could never get those number word counts lmfaoo. the drama is startinggg- oh hasn't it already began?

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt. not proofread

series masterlist

again?

Jungkook's head pounded as he groggily sat up. He rubbed his temples, wincing at the dull ache. Glancing to the side, he noticed a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the bedside table. Next to them was a note, its familiar handwriting tugging at his heartstrings.

"You should stop drinking and driving fast at midnight. It's bad for your liver and dangerous."

The note was pinned to a picture frame of the two of you, smiling. He traced his fingers over the image, a small, bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

it wasn't just a note. it was you. It was your concern, your voice, your heart. Even now, after everything. At least you were here, even if only for a moment.

He closed his eyes, letting the ache of longing settle in his chest. This—these fleeting moments—were all he could hold onto now.

Reaching for his phone, Jungkook unlocked it, scrolling through social media out of habit. His thumb stopped dead on the screen as a picture appeared: you and Yoongi, cuddled together on a couch. Your head rested on Yoongi's shoulder, his hand gently tangled in your hair as he smiled down at you. The caption was simple but cut deeper than any knife: "Home."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, biting his lip to stifle the wave of emotion surging within him. His fingers trembled as he stared at the photo, regret burning in his chest. That could've been him. No—it should've been him.

If only he had stayed.

But he hadn't. He had his reasons, though none of them felt valid now. He had convinced himself that leaving was the right thing to do. He hated the gnawing insecurity that whispered he'd never be enough for you, that you deserved more than the flawed, broken man he was. He thought he was doing you a favor by walking away, promising himself he'd come back when he was better, stronger—when he was perfect.

But perfection never came. Time passed, and so did his chances. Now, he was left with nothing but the crushing realization that he had only sabotaged himself. You had moved on, found someone who could give you the love and stability he always struggled to provide.

He let out a bitter laugh, though it carried no humor. He was too late.

Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the headboard, the phone slipping from his grip onto the bed. His mind was a storm of regrets and what-ifs, but none of them could change the reality staring back at him.

Jungkook's eyes drifted back to the note, his heart aching with a mixture of longing and acceptance. He'd lost you, but at least you were happy. That's all he had ever wanted for you, even if it meant watching from the sidelines as someone else gave you the love he couldn't.

But it didn't make it hurt any less.

Jungkook stood up abruptly, his movements shaky yet determined. His eyes, red from tears and alcohol, found yours in the dim light. Without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The embrace was warm yet suffocating, filled with desperation.

"Kook- what are you doing?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible against his chest.

"Let me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just... let me hold you. For the last time."

His words hit you like a freight train. The 'last time' echoed in your mind, twisting something deep inside you. Hesitantly, you raised your arms, almost letting them encircle him, but before you could decide, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of the moment.

The vibration was loud, intrusive, and it broke the fragile bubble you and Jungkook had found yourselves in. You gently pushed against his chest, creating some distance.

"Wait," you mumbled, reaching for your phone. The screen lit up with Yoongi's name. Your heart sank further into the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"Hey, Y/N," Yoongi's familiar, comforting voice came through the line. "Where are you? It's getting late."

"Oh, um..." you stammered, your mind racing for an answer. "I'm at a restaurant right now, eating," you lied, hoping it didn't sound as strained as it felt.

"Really? Are you okay? You sound... different," he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You stole a glance at Jungkook, who was watching you closely, his gaze unreadable but intense. His jaw tightened at the mention of Yoongi's name, but he didn't say a word.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, forcing a nervous laugh. "I'm just tired. I'll, uh, see you soon, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Yoongi pressed, his worry evident.

"I'm sure," you said quickly. "I'll call you later. Gotta go!" Without waiting for his response, you ended the call, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

Jungkook took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching for yours. "Stay," he whispered, his voice raw and pleading. "i don't understand-"

You looked at him, your throat tightening. His expression was unlike anything you'd seen before—hopeful yet broken, desperate yet resigned.

"Kook..." you began, but you couldn't bring yourself to finish.

"Just this once," he said, his voice trembling. "Stay with me."

Your heart ached at the sight of him, but you knew you couldn't. You couldn't let yourself fall back into the same cycle of heartbreak and pain.

"I'm sorry," you said softly, tears pricking your eyes. Gently, you pulled your hand from his and took a step back.

Jungkook's head bowing as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. He didn't try to stop you this time. He just stood there, watching as you walked away.

As soon as you were out of sight, the tears you'd been holding back spilled over. You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs. You hated how much he still affected you, even after everything

The Next Day

You run your hands through your hair as you waited in the sleek conference room. Today’s meeting was important. a potential collaboration with influential figures in the industry. Securing this deal would not only benefit your company but also solidify your position as a force to be reckoned with in the business world.

You twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly, your mind wandering to the memories of last night. The image of Jungkook’s tear-filled eyes and his broken voice pleading for you to stay was still fresh. Shaking your head, you focused on the present.

The first three representatives had already arrived, exchanging polite greetings and idle chatter as they settled into their seats. You greeted them with a warm smile, but a glance at your watch told you the meeting was running late.

“Where are the last two?” you muttered under your breath, turning to your assistant, who stood nearby.

“I apologize, ma’am,” they whispered. “I wasn’t informed there would be five guests instead of three until this morning.”

You sighed but nodded, waving them off. It wasn’t ideal, but you would manage.

The door opened, and your heart instantly lifted when you saw Yoongi walk in, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. his eyes meets yours, he gave you a subtle smile that sent a wave of reassurance through you..

Behind him came another man. one that made your breath hitch.

Jungkook.

He strode into the room, his black dress shirt perfectly fitted, his expression unreadable, like nothing ever happened last night. His gaze swept across the room until it landed on you.

Your smile faltered, your lips parting slightly in shock as you stared at him. It was like the air had been sucked out of you.

He met your gaze briefly before looking away. He took the seat across from you, and it felt like all eyes were on you now.

Yoongi sat beside him, his expression neutral, though you noticed his jaw tighten for a moment. He glanced at you, his subtle nod urging you to refocus.

Clearing your throat, you forced a polite smile and looked at the group. “O-Okay. Let’s start, shall we?”

You gestured toward your assistant, who quickly connected the presentation slides.

The meeting room had finally emptied, leaving only you and Yoongi. As he adjusted his watch, he turned to you with a slightly apologetic smile.

“I’ve got to rush- urgent family dinner,” he explained, his tone regretful.

You nodded, understanding. “Okay! Tell them I said hi,” you replied with a genuine grin, waving as he turned to leave.

He raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back, his quick steps taking him out of the building.

You gathered your things and began walking toward the elevator. As you rounded a corner, lost in thought, your heel caught on the edge of the carpet. A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled forward, bracing for the hard impact of the floor.

But it never came.

Strong arms caught you mid-fall, steadying you. The familiar scent hit you before the voice did.

“You should be more careful, y’know?”

Your heart stopped.

The world seemed to freeze as your eyes darted upward, meeting the face you thought you’d left behind in your mind.

Jungkook.

The murmur of workers broke the moment.

“Isn’t that Ms. Kim and Mr. Jeon?” “Didn’t they break up?” “Are they back together?”

You glanced around, spotting several employees discreetly snapping pictures and whispering amongst themselves. The realization made your blood boil.

Quickly, you pulled away from Jungkook’s grasp, straightening your outfit as you shot him a glare.

His lips curled into an infuriating smirk. “No ‘thank you’?” he teased, his tone as casual as ever.

You rolled your eyes, your irritation boiling over. “Thank you,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Without waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and walked away, your pace hurried as you headed toward the nearest restroom.

aglist : @crazyovayou @minghaosimp @pitchblack0309 @kpopsmutty69 @junecat18 @primadonnasdream @minimoniminimoni @7lilacpetals @vonvi-blog @jk97bam @kissyfacekoo @baechugff @chuberry22 @nerdycheol @etaernaluvv @kooloveys comment if you wanna join

#rispwr #bts #jungkook ff #bts x reader #jungkook #yoongi #jungkook x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #bts x oc #fic : hate you

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bonesxbows · 6 months ago

Text

Act Naturally - Chapter 1 (Cooper Howard X Reader)

Masterlist

While exploring an old section of Hollywood, the two of you stumble upon an old advertisement for a cowboy movie. But the man on the poster looks suspiciously a lot like Cooper, even down to the same smile. But it couldn't possibly be him...right?

(WARNINGS) - anger issues - negative self talk (from Cooper not you)

I feel like I dragged this on for way longer than it needed to be BUT it's a done thing now and tbh I'm pretty happy with it. I fucking adore soft Cooper moments and idc if I have to write them all myself

Also! This idea came from @land-of-evergreens-and-dye so full credit to them for letting me stew on this prompt

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reblogs and comments much appreciated!

Banners by @strangergraphics

The two of you had found yourselves in an old section of Hollywood. It had been so long since Cooper had told you his reason for bringing you here that you’d forgotten what his motivation for this excursion was. Although it didn’t really matter to you, you’d follow him anywhere whether he wanted you to tag along or not. There was no separating you two. Not anymore.

Most of the buildings had been boring to scavenge through, if you could even find a way inside at all. Not much was left of the boulevard besides dusty sidewalks and rusting billboards. But one building in particular piqued your interest. It had a larger facade than all the rest where small billboard-like signs hung above the wide double doors. Broken and busted bulb lights framed the signs and the rows of black lettering were missing far too many letters to be able to read it clearly. What letters you could make out only baffled you more than the strange-looking building did.

‘Co - How - Starr - in - Th - M - Fr - Dea - Horse’

“Horse? What’s a horse?” you asked out loud, more to yourself than to him. He usually never listened to your mid-exploring ramblings, though he never did tell you to stop. You turned around to find him staring up at the old sign too, although his brow was creased and a scowl was stuck on his face. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes shifted to looking at you instead.

“You wanna check inside there, don’ you?” He asked.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “Can we? Please? I’ve never seen any place like it before.”

“Hm. ‘Spose we can. But make it quick alright?” He checked his pistol’s ammunition levels and flipped the barrel back into place once he was satisfied. You led the way forward, pushing the swinging doors inward as Cooper was right behind you, pistol in hand and trigger finger ready.

He was a little disappointed when the place appeared to be empty. But the feeling didn’t last, he couldn’t stay upset as he watched you scurry around the place, your eyes wide with fascination. The interior was even more astonishing to you than the exterior had been. Rows of folding booth-like chairs covered the majority of the floor, their fabric exterior faded and torn, and in the back of the building was a wooden stage. Ragged old curtains framed the blank wall behind the stage where its faded white paint chipped and peeled off the plaster. There wasn’t much hiding between the rows of chairs besides dust and sand but you still kept your hopes high that the rest of the building would hold something worthwhile.

“What is this place? Some kind of shooting gallery?” you asked, your wasteland-born intelligence of pre-war places was lacking, but fortunately for you, Cooper liked you enough to fill you in on what knowledge you didn't have.

He chuckled at your observation. He supposed a shooting gallery was just about the closest thing you could get to a theater these days. “Not ‘xactly, sweetheart. It was used for movies, picture shows, that kinda thing. A place where folks could feign ignorance ‘bout the end of the world fast approachin’ on their heels.”

“Movies? Like the kind on those busted-up televisions?” you continued to explore around as you talked. He followed you, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary that could be dangerous while you focused on the useful and exciting things you could find.

“Mmhm. Just like those. Never endin’ loops of fairytale stories kept alive by people long gone by now.” he explained, and you ended the conversation after that. His voice was strained and scruffy, meaning he was either remembering something he wanted to forget or he was getting agitated. Either way, you knew it was in your best interest to stop asking questions.

Things got progressively more interesting when you discovered the back rooms of the building. The first one had been large, with dusty velvet ropes leading to a counter filled with food machines and nuka-cola dispensers, you’d come back here to scavenge all the food you could carry with you on your way out, but the hallways and storage rooms were what really piqued your attention.

Posters lined the wooden walls of the hallways, the plaster that had once surrounded them now nothing more than dust on the ground. The paper was old, torn, and extremely faded, even with the lack of sunlight in the place. The color was all but gone from the paper, but you could still make out the words if you squinted hard enough.

“Cooper Howard Starring in The Man From Dead Horse.” The letters matched up with the ones from outside but yet you were still baffled on what exactly a horse was. The poster had no other information to help clarify, although you found it interesting that the man on the paper supposedly shared your cowboy’s name.

“Huh.” You exclaimed as you studied the pictures.

“What?” Cooper called after you, pulling his attention only slightly away from the containers he was looting around the place, looking for spare ammo or anything else that was useful.

“Nothing. Just something about these posters. Are these about those movies you were talking about?” you asked, which had him turning around to examine the poster along with you. The only response he gave you was a short grunt, which you knew translated to a yes. You shifted your eyes back to the paper on the wall. Most of the color may have been gone but you could still make out a blue shirt on a man with a white cowboy hat on top of his head. He stood in a pose with his revolver in the air and his other hand on his hip. He wore a smirk on his face that felt familiar and something in the back of your mind itched like you had seen this all before…somewhere. But you couldn't pinpoint the memory.

When you turned back around Cooper was already gone down the hallway so you hurried to follow him, tearing your eyes from the poster but keeping your mind on the nagging feeling it left you with. Maybe if you turned the picture over in your head enough times the memory you were looking for would click, or so you hoped.

His attitude had significantly changed after you found that poster. He became more on edge and that gruff exterior he had when you had first met him was back. He rushed through the rest of the building, seemingly not caring if you were behind him or not. By the time you caught up with him, he was shoving his way back out through the swinging front doors. You could see the finger on his pistol’s trigger starting to twitch. You followed him outside and down the road a way until he stopped in front of the first billboard he saw.

Like everything else in the wasteland, the colors were gone and the picture was faded, but you could clearly tell it had been an advertisement for Vault-Tec before the bombs. Cooper didn’t hesitate to unload every round in his revolver through the billboard. Pieces of wood and metal went flying and you instinctively covered your face, listening to the bullet casings and wood chips hit the concrete around you. He eventually ran out of bullets, although you could still hear him clicking the trigger. Once the gun sounded empty you lowered your arms again, examining the now hole-riddled Vault Boy on the billboard. Cooper’s face still held a nasty scowl.

“You got a personal vendetta with Vault-Tec I don't know about or something? What just happened?” you asked. If you were anyone else he would have filled you with lead just for asking a question right then and there. He was currently too angry to deal with stupidity. But he would never purposefully hurt you, that was one line he refused to cross in his mind. But unknowingly to you your words only fueled his anger more.

“Shut it. Let’s go. I’m sick of this place.” he snapped, his usual drawl and accent missing and replaced by venom in his words. He quickened his pace out of the block of streets and you followed him, but you kept your distance to a minimum of a few feet at least for the remainder of the trek.

It had been a few hours since Cooper’s outburst and the two of you had set up camp for the night inside of an old diner. He had seemed to calm down a little but he had set himself up in the corner of a booth with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his feet kicked up on the table in front of him. Which left you alone with your thoughts in front of his makeshift campfire. You watched the sun sink below the horizon as you replayed the earlier events of the day over and over in your head, still trying to connect the dots. You stared at Cooper, his supposedly sleeping form leaning against the worn material of the diner booth, hoping that if you focused on him hard enough you could will the connection in your mind to click.

And then the realization hit you like a lightning bolt, your eyes pulling all of the pieces together in front of you as you stared at his hat and the rough skin poking out from underneath it.

You sprang up from your seat on the ground, sliding yourself into the booth on the other side of the table in front of him. He didn't seem to notice until you reached over and yanked his cowboy hat off of his head with one swift motion. His eyes shot open and immediately landed on you.

“Can’t a ghoul get some shut-eye ‘round here without you botherin’ him?” he scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turning to face you across the table. You didn’t respond and instead placed his hat on the table in front of you, staring at him with full intent. He was unbothered underneath your intense gaze, either he was used to being stared at or knew you weren’t much of a threat to him. “I got somethin’ in my teeth or is this a new hobby of yours I don’ know about?” he asked, your silence was irking him more than your constant staring.

You let your eyes do all the work and your imagination filled in the blanks, pulling both images in your head together; the man from the poster and the man sitting in front of you. His dirty blue shirt peaking out from underneath his duster confirmed your suspicion.

“You’re him.” was all you said as the realization set in.

“Pardon?”

“You're him! From the poster earlier! That's why he looked so familiar!” your excitement was getting hard to contain. You had known Cooper was from before the bombs but you hadn’t known he was THAT Cooper Howard.

“Darlin’, I have no idea what you’re on about. You best forget ‘bout that whole theater ‘fore you go and stir up trouble.” he told you, folding his arms in front of him on the table as his brow darkened his eyes.

“What’s the big deal, Coop? Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you rushed out of there so quickly?” you spoke quickly, the questions flooding out of your mouth faster than you had intended.

“Hmph. ‘What’s the big deal?’ The ‘big deal’ is that man is dead. Has been for over 200 years. I ain’t keen on bringin’ him back neither. His optimism and gullibility got him killed and that was the end of that. I’m done rememberin’ the sorry excuse I got for a past. Reminiscing don’ keep you alive for long.” his western accent was tangled together with poison as he spat out his words. But his scary looks didn’t work on you anymore.

“Maybe, but you’re still him, Coop. You’ve adapted to the wasteland but you’re still you. Roughed up and scarred a little, sure, but who isn’t?” you told him, doing your best to keep your voice soft to combat his spitefulness.

“A little? Sweetheart, I’m a damn monster, everyone out ‘ere thinks so. Whatever was left of good ol’ Cooper Howard died when this here skin started fallin’ off. I’m done bein’ nice in a world that does nothin’ but kicks you when you’re down.”

“I don’t think you're a monster.”

It was one sentence, just a few words, but it made him pause. His scowl vanished for a few seconds and was replaced by a look of confusion. There was a small smile tugging at his lips too, if you were quick enough to notice it before it was gone. He sighed and leaned back against the booth.

“Well then that’s one hell of a lapse of judgment on your part sweetheart.” he hooked his hands together and put them behind his head, cradling the back of his neck as he closed his eyes again and leaned further into the booth. But you weren't done with the conversation just yet.

You got up, grabbed his hat off of the table, and shifted yourself into the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him and then looked down at his hat in your hands. A relic from over two centuries ago, covered in sand and caked in dirt. But still a working and functioning cowboy hat. It protected its wearer from the harsh sun and there was a sense of safety woven somewhere in between the fibers. Broken and beaten and even dirtied beyond repair, it was still a hat. And Cooper was still a person.

You climbed on top of the table, being careful not to accidentally kick him with your feet as you positioned yourself in front of him and placed a leg on either side of his body. You placed his hat in its rightful place on top of his head, making him open his eyes again when he felt your touch. He looked up at you curiously, fully not expecting you to be on the table in front of him. You reached down and grabbed both of the lapels of his duster, balling the fabric up in your fists as you pulled him forward and smashed your lips into his. You were quick with your movements, something you had learned from being around Cooper so much recently, which left little to no time for him to react or protest against your sudden affection.

Although he didn't seem to mind. His hands found their way to your hips almost automatically and he slipped them under your shirt, grabbing at your soft skin roughly. Tomorrow morning you would have bruises all over your hips in the shape of his fingertips, but it happened so often now that the purples and blues were a permanent part of you. You had started this impromptu makeout session but he was determined to finish it. His tongue worked fervidly like he was mapping the constellations in the night sky across the inside of your mouth. He never once gave you the chance to take the lead and he was as quick as a viper to wrangle back control when you tried to take it yourself. At some point he had shifted his hands underneath you and scooped you off the table, sliding you right into his lap while still keeping a strong grip on you, never once slowing down with his tongue. Your legs were forced to wrap around him, your bodies now flush against each other in the booth.

It wasn’t long after he had pulled you closer that you had to pull away, panting and taking gulps of air. You finally let go of his jacket as you leaned back against the table, feeling the metal edge digging into your back as you did so.

“You know for a so-called ‘monster’ you sure know how to make someone feel breathless.” You told him as you admired the way he was smirking at you. Ironically it was the exact same smirk from that old poster of him, although you noticed he had shifted from that old-school charming look to now one that held an aura of danger around him.

“Hm. Well, now I’ve never been the type to pass up an opportunity when it’s handed to me. ‘Specially if it ends with somethin’ pretty sittin’ in my lap.” his grip on your hips was still ironclad as his eyes raked over you. His stare felt similar to a hunter stalking its prey. You knew what he was doing, trying to convince himself he was right by acting like a predator, but you knew the truth underneath the facade. You had seen firsthand how he had cared for you and looked after you even when he stood to gain nothing in return.

“Whether the old Cooper is dead or not doesn’t change the fact that I love this, right here, right now. Whatever led to you being my cowboy, I wouldn’t change a thing.” you ran your fingers up his chest as you spoke, fiddling your way underneath the collar of his cowboy costume to run your fingertips along the raised edges of his scarred skin. He sat back and let you touch him, not making any move to try and stop you. He’d let you do anything your little heart desired. He was your cowboy, he knew that, and yet two hundred years ago he would have never imagined meeting someone like you. He’d be damned if he would let anything happen to you, you were the only good thing he had left in this fucked up world. He refused to let anything else be taken from him.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, relishing in the way the soft cartilage felt against his marred fingertips. He ran the very tip of his finger against the edge of your ear, earning a tilt of your head as a response to the sensation.

“Cooper?” you asked, making his eyes flick to yours. He noticed you had pulled your hand out from under his shirt and instead, you had placed it on top of his chest, mindlessly fumbling with the ancient fringe attached to the front.

“Hm?”

“I still have one question,” you told him, knitting your brows together in curiosity.

“I’m listenin’.” he had been so enraptured by your affection that he had no idea what to anticipate, especially when your face had turned so serious.

“What even is a horse, anyway?”

It took him a great deal of effort to stifle his laughter.

#my writings #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul #fallout tv series #fallout tv #fallout prime #fallout tv fanfic #cooper howard fanfiction #Cooper howard fanfic

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mostly-marvel-musings · 7 months ago

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Found my way back to you

A/N: Something for our CACW broken and sad boi Tony? Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here ya go. Special mention to @nicoline1998enilocin for proofreading, love you girl 💛 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger! F! Reader (our reader has Falcon-like abilities and Red Wing as well)

Warnings: Angst, hurt comfort.

Word count: 4.3k ish

Square filled: “Please don’t go.”

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

“Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure you heard it at first as the voice seemed fainter than a whisper. Collecting your forgotten phone from the conference table, you were almost out the door when you heard him speak. Tony Stark sat at the far end of the table, nursing a glass of whiskey, his eyes downcast and shoulders drooped. There was a pleading in his voice that you couldn’t turn down.

Ever since Pepper left him for good, Tony had been heading towards a steady downfall of self-destruction. He was never one to talk but the team knew it, you knew it. You silently prayed that he would seek help and not be so stubborn for once. But you knew better than to push your teammate.

“What happened today, Tony?” Grabbing the nearest chair, you slid into it and waited for Tony to speak. You frowned as he took in a deep breath, as if preparing himself to relive whatever he was about to say.

“I met a lady named Miriam Sharpe today at MIT. She had a son, Charles Spencer. Great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” he raised his eyes to meet yours finally, guilt and regret swimming in them, almost drowning his soul with it. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you remained silent. How does one process this kind of information anyway?

“He would have been working at Intel come fall. And now…She blames me, Y/N. And she’s right. I blame myself. I created Ultron. It’s my fault.” his voice was so low, you had to strain to hear. You could see his guilty conscience eating him alive, and your heart broke for the man.

“It’s not all your fault, Tony. We all share responsibility for what happened in Sokovia. Could we have done without the blood-thirsty artificial intelligence that threatened an extinction-level genocide? Sure. But you have to stop blaming yourself for Ultron. We got him, he’s gone. The world is safe again, the Avengers made sure of that. You made sure of that, remember?” you reached out to place your hand over his, he didn’t resist, instead he gave you a small nod indicating he understood your point before offering you a small but grateful smile. Your words provided him comfort, temporary though, yet he was battling a world of obsessive thoughts on the inside.

Excusing yourself, you headed out the room once more, only for Tony to grab your attention once again.

“The world is only safe until the next big threat, Y/N. And then what? Another conference where I meet another parent of yet another child that didn’t deserve to die? We need to be kept in check.” he muttered assertively, downing the rest of his glass before heading out the door himself. Leaving you to ponder over his words that somehow rang true the more you gave it a thought.

“So you’re really going to leave huh?” Clint Barton knocked on your door softly before he made his way to your room, followed closely by Natasha Romanov.

“Yep. I’m really leaving.”

You were packing the last of your suitcases, cramming one of the many photo frames that held a picture of you with the team. A Midgardian suit-clad Thor stood tallest brandishing his humongous glass of beer, right next to Steve, Nat and Clint; Tony had decided to go for dramatics as he laid down in front of all of you, his suit jacket discarded as he laughed pointing at Bruce who had just spilled his drink down his shirt - all thanks to Red Wing - your trusted device that you secretly used for a jump scare. It was worth it. Taken at one of Stark’s parties, everybody looked happy, less frown lines, less stress. Good old days, you thought.

“That was a good night.” Clint chuckled, pointing at the picture and making you nod in agreement.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha pulled you in for a hug, making you tear up in the process. She didn’t try and convince you to stay, she was probably the only one who truly understood why you chose to step away, even if she didn’t agree with the decision.

“I’ll miss you too, Nat. More than you know. You too Legolas. Don’t die on us.” you chuckled after hugging Clint. The nickname Tony gave just sort of stuck around, and it irritated Clint the most which is why you always chose to call him that. Both of them were the closest thing to family around here for you.

“I feel like I’m probably gonna be the only one who miraculously survives, Y/L,N.”

“Seriously though, be careful you guys. I have a feeling this is not going to end well.” you added, zipping up the last of your bags. Saying their final goodbyes, they left you alone.

Your room was now empty, all packed up into boxes, the space looked smaller somehow, even though it wasn’t. It was time for you to start a new chapter of your life and close this one. It came with unfinished business but you chose to move on. Whatever moving on from a superhero life meant.

“Please don’t go.”

Those three words rang in your ears months after they were uttered. As much as your heart wrenched, you had to leave, it was time.

The Sokovia Accords lay on the polished oak table, bringing dreadful silence across the room. It was hard to believe what your world had come to, and yet here it was. A choice. A choice that nobody benefitted from, except maybe the government. The accords meant that the Avengers would no longer function as an independent association, instead, the government would control and track their moves and influence their decisions. Not signing them would be considered as retirement, so there was no easy way out of it.

Did you agree with them? Absolutely not. Was it necessary? Probably. What shocked you most was that Tony Stark had agreed to comply, in fact he was coaxing each and every one to sign the papers. You knew what was about to happen. And you knew where you stood.

It didn’t make sense for you to stay anymore.

So you left. Retired as the government had you call it. And Tony tried to stop you, once. He assumed you would fight by his side no matter what. And for a brief moment, so did you. You wanted to be by his side, however, what Thaddeus Ross had asked of you was simply unacceptable. You could never live with your freedom taken away from you like that. It wasn’t regulation, it was manipulation and you couldn’t believe Tony for siding with it. It broke your heart.

And so with that broken heart, you fled town. Bought yourself a country home and a small farm with animals, you made a good life for yourself. A life so distinctly different from the one you previously had. No fights, no aliens dropping from the skies, no threats, but no Avengers either. And more importantly, no Tony.

It came as a huge shock the day King T’Chaka was killed in Vienna, and the terrorist later identified as The Winter Soldier only was going to make matters worse, you knew that.

A part of you felt guilty for leaving, while another part was relieved to be away from it all. The constant tug of war gave you several sleepless nights. The main cause for those was the fact that you left without saying goodbye to Tony. You wondered if he hated you for it. He probably did. The two of you were…complicated to say the least. The nature of your relationship was never clear, it came with baggage, one you were more than willing to carry before you were presented with the Accords. There wasn’t much left to say when Tony Stark became spokesperson for regulating and controlling the Avengers under the government’s shadow. Arguments seemed futile when the man was determined on what needed to be done to keep the team in check.

An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever. - Helmut Zemo

Tony Stark was a man left wounded by many battles, some he drew upon himself, others he didn’t. The Sokovia Accords had caused a schism in the Avengers, a public feud with Steve Rogers and those he trusted at an airport in Germany. He had now the burden of involving a child in the fight, and the fact that he almost lost his best friend. Rhodey was built an exoskeleton to aid him in walking after he recovered, that was the least Tony could do. Although James never blamed him for anything, deep down it cut him that he was responsible for most of mayhem caused.

And then there was you.

You had left the team, left him without a goodbye. Disappeared one night without a trace. Tony felt abandoned by the one person he had hoped would never leave, and yet you had. He had had many sleepless nights thinking about you, hoping that one day maybe out of the blue you would come back and explain yourself.

And now you were gone.

Tony,

I’m glad you’re back at the compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion all by yourself. We all need family.

The Avengers are yours, maybe even more so than mine. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And, I’m happy to say that for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn’t.

I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.

I wish we agreed on the accords, I really do. I know you’re doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do. That’s all any of us should do.

So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us—if you need me—I’ll be there. The team may be scattered for now but I believe if and when the time comes, we will assemble as one. And it’s probably not my place to say this but, Y/N stepping down certainly does not mean she’s no longer with the team. She is out doing what she always dreamt of, living a normal life. Something all of us wish for every now and then. I hope you guys work it out someday. Take care, Tony.

Tony stared at the letter after reading it for the fourth time, the flip phone that came with it still in his hands. His mind invariably wandered to the last bit of Steve’s message. You.

Over the past few years, Tony had come to realize how integral you were, not just to the team and your contribution but to his life too. He had on many occasions found himself seeking you out for a chat, it always made his heavy heart just a little lighter. From the moment you joined the Avengers, you had intrigued Tony Stark. He admired you for your abilities, you were more capable than you were given credit for, you were compassionate, kind and a team player. You never said much but whenever you did, you always knew the right things to say, especially to Tony.

He recalled many occasions where you had leant a listening ear when he had wanted to rant, provided a logical solution when things seemed to get out of hand. He would never forget the comfort you provided when Pepper left him. You were there, holding his hand, hugging him tight when he asked to be left alone, knowing how much he needed a human touch. He didn’t fight it, instead he had let himself be held by you, by arms that provided safety, touches that soothed him and words that rendered all the uncertainties silent.

And yet you had left the compound without a word, or maybe without a conversation with him. It angered and worried him in equal parts.

The more he thought about it, the clearer the picture became of your possible whereabouts. One particular conversation stood out indicating where he might find you, memories of that evening brought a smile to his face as he recalled.

“Farm animals, definitely. I will get myself an alpaca, call her Ms Brain.”

“Are you serious?” you giggled, looking at Tony incredulously. The man was always full of surprises. You were lying on your backs on the compound lawn, it had been a particularly eventful day. Tony found you out here all by yourself, staring up at the gray sky. Getting him to lie down with you wasn’t easy but you managed, bribing him with his favorite whiskey later.

“What about you, Y/L/N?”

“Hmm..Let’s see. I want a huge backyard where I will grow my veggie garden, make the most delicious foods, and have a cat since I’ve always wanted one. Somewhere peaceful and quiet, away from the city, of course. Some place that’ll show me actual stars instead of these twinkling airplane lights, you know?” you murmured, chuckling as a plane flew right above, its red lights mixing with the gray smoke and clouds before it disappeared, effectively making its point.

Tony remained silent, turning his head towards you so he could see your face, your eyes still focused on the sky, he gazed at you fondly. Admiring you for having the courage to dream of a different life so freely, something he used to be able to do but now it all seemed too far off.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/N?” Tony murmured, reaching his pinky finger out to entwine with yours.

“I’m just picturing you on a farm with Ms. Brain on a leash.” You smiled looking down at your hands.

“Do you think about running away from it all?”

“All the time.” Tony replied promptly, turning his body to face you as you did the same.

“What stops you from doing it then?”

As if on cue, his phone rang, disturbing the quiet of the moment. He murmured a ‘that’ under his breath before sitting up to answer it, thereby ending your little heart-to-heart.

It was a lovely spring morning when you awoke. Your usual wake up call was meowing his way up your bed, demanding to be fed. Once the cat had his fill, you made yourself a cup of coffee and breakfast and went about your day.

Your life out here was simple, just the way you wanted it to be. Your savings had bought you a decent sized house with a large enough backyard garden for you to grow your veggies - something you always dreamt of having. The difference was so stark, it took you a while to adjust to this new life. But eventually you did. The peace and quiet it brought you was indescribable. But that didn’t mean you didn’t miss your Avenger life. To be more specific you missed the team, mostly Tony Stark.

You felt horrible for leaving without notice, especially after finding out about the fight that took place in Germany. You often found yourself wondering how he was dealing with everything. Did he have anybody by his side? You knew the answer to that. Did he get back with Pepper Potts? You didn’t want to find out the answer to that.

As evening rolled by, you poured yourself a glass of wine and got started on dinner, hearing a sharp knocking sound on your door right after. Frowning, you wiped your hands on a napkin and went to open it. You weren’t expecting anyone.

On the other side of the door stood the man you least expected to find, and yet the same man you were hoping to find all this time.

Tony Stark.

He wasn’t the Tony Stark you recognized. No. He seemed different, and not in a good way. His face was still the same, handsome, striking and yet it lacked the usual charisma. There were several bruises decorated all over his face, some healed, others on their way but definitely promised to leave a permanent mark. Words had escaped your vocabulary as you stood there dumbfounded, until he cleared his throat.

“Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re um, you’re here.”

He gave you a nod, grateful that you stepped out of the way to let him in, still trying to process. Red Wing flew in after him, having scanned him for being a potential threat. It was a habit you couldn’t shake off, even in retirement, you were prepared for the unexpected.

“You turned Red Wing into a bellboy? You should’ve left with Dum-E, he would’ve been the perfect lawn mower.”

He made you chuckle, immediately reminding you of the Tony you had missed all these months. A part of you was relieved to see him, your heart beating with excitement now that there seemed a possibility that he was here to see you.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

He shook his head in a no, explaining he had had too much coffee before, his trembling fingers spoke for themselves. Wordlessly, you made your way towards the kitchen, putting on a kettle of water to make him a cup of chamomile tea instead.

“Will you stay for dinner? I was only just getting started.” you offered, taking his noncommittal shrug as a yes.

He seemed to be busy digesting your new home, the surroundings that now glowed under the light of the setting sun. Your cat jumped out from his hiding spot, greeting Tony by walking between his legs, rubbing his scent over him, already claiming the man as his.

“He’s never that friendly with anyone.” you pointed out, smiling a little when Tony bent down to scratch him behind his ears, causing a cat to purr in appreciation. You brought him a cup of piping hot tea which he accepted wordlessly, taking a seat on your couch where you joined him. Several moments of silence passed where you watched him blow on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

“You left without saying goodbye to me.”

Tony’s words fell on your ears but cut right through your heart. You should’ve been prepared for this to come up.

“Would you have stopped me from going, Tony?”

“No. Probably. I–I would’ve wanted you to stay and fight back, Y/N.”

You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at the thought.

“Fight you, you mean? You know I was never going to sign those Accords. I was not going to fight by your side, Tony. You knew that.” your voice shook as you spoke, getting up from your seat and heading back to your kitchen, you put some distance between the two of you.

“Then you should’ve fought me! Anything was better than leaving unannounced, Y/N.”

His words made you turn around, his eyes shone under the candlelight, burning with embers of unanswered questions. You stood quiet, your breathing shallow now.

“Clearly I didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Is that what you think? You’re wrong, Tony. It’s because you meant the most to me, Tony. I couldn’t say goodbye to you because if I had, I wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t stay. So forgive me for running away, alright? I took the easiest choice at hand because the alternative was just too damn difficult.” you had a few tears strayed down your cheek by the time you finished, your heart now pounding wildly against your ears as you stood gripping the dining chair so tight your knuckles had turned white.

Tony sat still for a while, his brain comprehending your words before a hint of a smile made its way on his face, a sense of temporary relief - something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something inside of him had led him here, the longing to see your face, questions that needed answers, the loneliness he felt that only grew more and more once everything that could go wrong went wrong. And yet, as he sat here after finding you, his heart felt lighter. Like he had made the right choice in what felt like forever.

“You haven’t asked why I am here.” he murmured, turning his attention back to the cup of tea in his hands.

“Wasn’t it to donate Dum-E to be my trusted lawn mower?” you jested, taking a seat on the chair you were previously clutching.

“I found out it wasn’t a car accident that killed my parents. They were murdered. By James Buchanan Barnes.” Tony stared ahead, gripping the cup tightly in his hands as he spoke.

“Oh my God, Tony…”

“And Rogers knew. He knew, Y/N.” he whispered, the anguish and hurt in his voice evident. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The Avengers having a difference of opinion was one thing, but this piece of information was enough to cause a definitive crack, you knew that.

“It wasn’t Barnes, Tony. It was the Winter Soldier, he was being controlled.”

“They’re still dead.”

That made you understand he wasn’t looking for a logical explanation, at least not now. What he needed was comfort. Without another word, you made your way back over to the couch, placing your hand on Tony’s back to let him know you were there for him.

“I almost lost Rhodey. I saw him fall to his death from the sky, Y/N. I couldn’t make it to him in time. And now our team is scattered. Gone. All because I–”

“Because of the Accords, and a difference of opinion, Tony.” you shifted closer, placing the cup away to grab his hands in yours.

“But I signed them. I failed.” his words broke your heart, unshed tears now made their way into his eyes as he tried his best not to break down in front of you.

“Hey, it’s okay, Tony. We’ll figure it out, like we always do, right? It’s okay, come here.”

Wrapping him in a hug, you held him close to you as he broke down, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. He held onto the light sweater you wore like you would disappear in his grasp, shoulders burdened heavy now shaking in silent tears as months, maybe years of pent up and unaddressed feelings resurfaced.

“Shh. You’re okay, Tony. Let it out, I’ve got you.” You carded your fingers through his hair softly, blinking your own tears away.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Tony. I should have been there for the team, for you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head slightly, the movement a little difficult with his head safely tucked against your chest. After his tears subsided, you clasped his hand and led him upstairs to draw him a bath.

Tony Stark hadn’t known what it felt to have someone else care for him in a long time. He didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable the way he had now, because for the first time in forever, he knew felt safe. Safe enough to show his scars, his wounds. As you wordlessly undressed him, your eyes scanned the bruises littered across his skin, old scars and new. Your fingers traced them delicately before you nudged him to step inside the tub while you sat out. He needed this more than you at that moment.

The warm water healed his sore muscles, the ache that had settled deep within them slowly slipped out as your hands massaged the knots away. There was no way he could express how thankful he was for you in words. He chose to express it all with a kiss instead.

Right after you were done washing his hair, he held your hand to pull you closer to the edge of the tub, his gaze lowered as his face inched closer to yours.

As your lips met, you felt yourself melt against him. There was still a lot to work through but for now, you let yourself be lost in Tony Stark. All of him. You let him consume your senses. He was all that mattered.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Hmm?”

Your question seemed irrelevant, you probably guessed it had been a while since the man got a good night’s rest. Now that you were out in your backyard, lying on a soft blanket you’d brought out to watch the night sky. Tony held on to your hand, placing it right over his chest where his arc reactor once was.

Several stars twinkled in the inky black sky, a visual you had missed in the city life. You remembered the nights you laid out here alone, rethinking past choices. You were content then, but you only understood peace now. There was no one else you would rather be here with than Tony.

His heart was beating steadily against your hand, his breath calm, features relaxed. This was the Tony you knew and loved.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I found my way back to you.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #fandom free bingo #tony stark angst #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fic #tony stark x you #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction #iron man #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings

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ashsimpsalot · 6 days ago

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Big strong man, big strong feelings

Kid x reader

Tw: self self harming behaviours (no cutting), I wrote him with the headcannon that our man has bipolar.

Cheeni universe, kinda a sequal to home to home

Ik I promised filthy fluff but... Yo girl is a deceiver

You smiled as you leaned against the door frame. Fuck you've missed this. This domiscated, more rare version of Kid. When he has a spatula in his hand, an apron tied around his waist, basically nude aside from the apron you gifted him when you two moved to Mumbai.

"I can feel you staring," Kid mumbled as he continued making breakfast. You could just picture the smirk he has on. Gentle music from the 80s could be heard from the smart TV, as the living room isn't that far from the kitchen.

Kid turned the fire off and turned around to look at you, walking towards you with a mock frown. "it was supposed to be breakfast in bed," he scolded jokingly. You shrugged and wrapped your arms on the back of his neck, gently pulled him down and kissed him. Granting the promise you made when you bought him the 'kiss the cook' apron.

He pressed his forehead against yours when you pulled away with a relief sigh. "what's all this about?" you asked quietly, trying to not break the calm ambience. Quiet after the storm. Just yesterday he was sobbing into your chest until he falls asleep. Apologising for the bullshit he pulled.

Kid slowly pulled away and held both of your hands. Staring at your intertwined fingers. "just... Glad to be home," he answered finally lifted his head to look at you. You cupped his cheek and your heart almost break when you see him leaned into your palm. He's had an episode, you two fought it out, not the first time he ran off but it's the first that he stays gone for long. "I'm sorry," he said again, as if the countless amount of times he said yesterday wasn't enough.

You've forgiven him, he doesn't even need to apologise and you'd still forgive him. Your heart is truly his, carved with his name tied to his soul. It jumped out of your chest and tried to chase him the night he stormed off after the fight. The gaping empty hole only grew when he stopped answering your texts and basically fell off the surface of the earth for months.

'I swear, Kid, I won't search for you if you step out of that door.' you fucking lied, of course you did. He's the central pillar of your very soul. You'd forgive him, always.

"I.. I didn't mean what I said. I need you, I need you," he mumbled, his thumb playing with the promise ring placed on your finger. The presence of the ring reminds him that you still love him.

You nod. "I know," you kissed his hand, you'd do anything to comfort this man. Anything.

"it doesn't matter, you're home," you replied, not really sure who you were trying to soothe. Both of you need to be reminded that he's home. Now.

Kid nodded. "I'm home," he repeated. Offering you a small smile and a kiss on your forehead before walking towards the counter and picked up the tray of food he's prepared. "let's get that breakfast in bed, hm?"

With Kid you've learned to enjoy these moments. He's the furthest thing from stable. You knew that. You knew how it'd be to love a broken man.

So you bury it in your mind. When he walks with you to the cafe, his fingers intertwined with yours. He'd make a point to look up at the pretty colours of the sky when the sun rises. It's like rediscovering the world. You made a point to stand and watch him prepare the coffee machine as you wait for customers. Kid would look up at you when he's done and give you a small kiss.

Fuck you've missed him. You know you did but you didn't know you've missed him this much.

You know the stable wave won't stay long. Kid is a big strong man and he has big strong feelings that he can't understand. Kid is quite the handyman, he could fix anything, everything, everything except himself.

You realise it. It happens gradually. He starts waking up a little later than usual. On the way to your shared cafe he doesn't lift his head to look at the sky anymore. He just stares upfront. Holding your hand a little looser.

"you don't have to go today, baby," you said, playing with his curls as he's laid on his chest, bare but a boxer on. You're all dressed up and ready to get to work and he's having the darnest time to even open up his eyes. He looks at you, not a word uttered, face still planted to the pillow. You smiled sadly, you know that empty look.

"take a day off, okay? I could handle the cafe just fine," you promised, leaning towards him to plant a kiss on his forehead before standing up to leave.

The whole day all you could think about was him. At lunch time you gave him a call. It took a few times, when he picks up he lets out a small grunt of 'hello'.

"have you eaten?" you asked, this is good, at least he has the energy to answer his phone. Kid let out a 'mm' and you smiled. "I'll bring back dinner later, okay?" and you're met with the answer identical to before.

Hours later when you stepped into your shared apartment it felt a little too quiet. "Kid?" you asked as you slowly opened the bedroom door, expecting him to lay on the bed bit he isn't there. You searched the house and it's confirmed that he isn't home. "shit, fuck" you mumbled and started dialling up his number. Only to be met with no answer. You tried about 4 more times.

"hey," finally he picked up. "Thank God, where are you, bandhar?"

The other side of the line went quiet and eventually a sigh was felt out. "open the door," he answered. You walked towards the front door and unlocked it, only to be met with bruised and bleeding Kid. He limped towards the couch and threw himself on it.

"Kid-"

"I could do what I want," he immediately cuts you off. He's staring at you, expecting a reaction.

You shook your head. "no, I'm not gonna do this." you meant it another way but he understood it the other

"you're leaving?" he asked, and that made your ears rang. No, you can't give him what he wants. You're trying to keep calm. "no Kid, I always stay,"

"and I leave. Why not find someone better?" Kid asked looking at a bruise on his arm and start pressing on it. You want to stop him but you know he'd try to use it to jab you. You need to remain calm.

"Kid-"

"I'm a burden hm?" he's just echoing his own insecurities. "everyone have their ups and lows" you tried to reason. Kid let out a chuckle. "hm but mine is too high and too low. You'll crash with me one day," he said.

You're tired. Fuck you're tired. "you keep pushing me away, you want me gone?"

For a split second you could see his mask broke. You know him too well. He went out to the ring, wanting the opponent to beat the shit out of him so he can feel something. He's numb. You can see it in his eyes and for a second what you said spark alarms in his mind. You're onto him and he knows. He slips the mask back on.

"you should." Kid replied as if it's final.

"I'm not giving you what you want Kid." you replied as final as his statement. You know this tactic. He used to do this when you both were 17. At first it drove you mad but you knew it's his way to hurt himself. He wants you to yell at him, berate him. Punish him. Hate him like he hates himself.

You walked closed towards him, eyes shifted towards the poor bruised arm that he's applying too much pressure on. You took his wrist. Trying to gently pry his thumb away from the bruise. "you promised to let me love you," you whispered. Hinting at the night you two had on the roof, you just started dating, he's forced you to accept the scholarship and leave him for a better life.

You chose him, the small apartment you two now have and the cafe you two own.

"remember? You promised," your sweet voice echoes in his head. He let you pulled his wrist away, he hung his head low, staring at the carpet. He felt the kiss you planted in his palm and a wave of shame hits him as a form of shiver colonising his whole body.

"I know you, don't pull this on me," you replied, standing between his spread legs. He pressed his forehead onto your lower obdement and wrapped his arms around your waist. You rubbed his back. "Just you, you remember that night, hm?"

Kid's breathing was uneven. He's about to start sobbing and you know. His depressive episodes could look ugly, you're prepared.

"it's unfair to you," he mumbled, looking up at you, he leaned his back against the couch, pulling you onto him, pressing his cheek against your chest, looking up at you. "it's not fair," he repeated.

You shook your head and kissed his forehead. "I love you," you whispered, Kid closed his eyes to soak it in. You moved to place a sma kiss on his nose. "you hear me? I love you," you added. Moving to kiss his lips twice. "you make me happy. You just have issues but so do I. We had this conversation before baby,"

"we were 17, that was years go," Kid finally answered, you used your thumb to caress his chin. "we could be a thousand and I still meant what I said, just you," you made sure to make him look into your eyes. He needs to see you're telling the truth.

He nods. "just us"he drew circles on your back as you've found a comfortable place in his lap. His kisses taste like blood but you don't mind.

"I.. Want to get better," he admitted.

You kissed his cheek. "we'll find a way."

Kid nodded. He had to say it, he's scared that you didn't know, that you thought he meant it. He won't blame you if you do, he's pushed you away so many times.

"I don't want you gone. I want us,"

You smiled., nodded and kissed him. "of course I know that, silly."

#dev patel #kid monkey man #monkey man fanfiction #monkey man x reader #monkey man #dev patel fic #Spotify

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assortedvillainvault · 2 months ago

Note

hello fellow blitzwing self shipper, i love the way you write him and i am suffering from thoughts of HIM. If it's not too much trouble, could you do a scenario where Blitzwing meets an actual human witch who also has elemental powers and how does their eventual relationship develop? (reader is non-binary.)

Greetings brave comrade, and thank you kindly! We all suffer here, such is the way in the Blitzwing Simp Squad.

I’ve left this more of a cliffhanger on the start of the relationship because I couldn’t get this scene out of my head – this was a really fun one to do so ty for the ask!

Blitzwing x Witch!Reader

He blinked.

He blinked again, with a different face.

“Vhat the frag.”

His plating wasn’t even scratched, but there was no doubt – and yes he did reply his own memory like a broken record just to be sure – that you had just tried to set fire to his shins.

Frag this planet.

His optic twitches as Random hysterically chants ‘Same hat! Same Hat!’ from inside his helm, instead grinding his dentae and trying to stomp on the infuriating little squishy. Feeble jets of half frozen mushy ice splatter against his frame as you run away, clearly not well versed in your irritating fragging mimicry-

Is this a tech thing? A human thing? A freak run-in with the powers that be? Blitz has seen it all during the war but a tiny fleshling with his own powers was just a push too far.

He had to be torn apart and welded back together by a sadistic turncoat spider to get his outlier upgrades, you do NOT get to flaunt a barely passable mockery in his faces – now HOLD STILL-

Of course the Autobots pick you up before he can crush you. Of course you join the myriad weird aft costumed humans he can’t be bothered to pay attention to. Of course he thinks the pointy hat looks stupid. Random wants to pinch the top of it and twirl you like a spinny top.

Of course he finds you trying to sneak into the decepticon mines. Alone.

The two of you stare each-other down. Icy raises an eyeridge after 10 clicks of increasingly sweaty silence.

Eventually, predictably, you snap. “Take a picture 'Con- it’ll last longer.”

Blitzwing takes a moment to refrain from grinding you into paste. Instead, he tilts his head and smirks.

Your phone pings.

“You can’t be fucking serious-”

“Vhat? Like it’s hard?” he shrugs, taking a step forward and enjoying the way you fumble backwards, looking incredulously at the photo of you he sent over. “Do you not have cameras built into your optics?” he asks mockingly.

“Do you not have shit to do somewhere else?!”

He catches the way fire licks in one of your tiny hands. It already looks brighter and steadier than the last time he saw you. Frost glitters on the fingers holding the phone.

He grins and crouches as low as he can. “No.” he says sweetly. “Vant me to leave?”

Your eyes widen in alarm as you register just how much he still towers over you – all escape routes cut off, your phone signal suddenly dead. “Yeah, that’d be great.” you whisper hoarsely, feeling the flames you’ve managed to summon sputter.

His faces spin gleefully onto Random’s glowing, grinning features as both cannons swing down with a hiss of hydraulics and lock on your position.

“Aw, cute! Make me.”

#thalassa responds #tfa blitzwing #blitzwing x reader #transformers animated #maccadam #x reader #blitzwing my beloved #thank you so much for the ask!!#lowkey I think this is one of the best things I've written for Blitz #he's just so done and all 3 are going to play with their food for once

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el-tur-el · 9 months ago

Text

reverence, the suspension of belief, and the death of the divine.

Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Angst. 18+, Minors DNI.

Word Count: 1,525. Read it on AO3.

“How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it's some kind of murder?” - Richard Siken

Tav has become something of an expert in handling damaged goods over the last year and a half.

Perhaps it’s crude to say that, but she fails to see the fault in calling something by its name. There is no shame in being damaged - she is damaged, perhaps in different ways, but scuffed and worn all the same. A fissure, a fault, spiderwebbed lines reaching out spindly fingers over the surface of her being. Waiting for the wrong word, the wrong breath, the wrong hand. And then? Only broken glass. Only the pop fizz shatter of it all.

He thinks he is damaged, and she has spent the last year trying to paint him a different picture; the portrait of a man weary from the years, yes, but not broken. Oil paint smeared, rusty in its vermillions and carmines, but no less beautiful than it was in its first days of being.

----

He’s a willing subject upon the altar of their bedroom, patient and pliant as she drags her lips down his chest, lips grazing over the ridges over his sternum. He’d been so shy about his infernal heritage when they’d first gotten together, all blush and bashful, terrified that she would find dislike within the features that branded him as ‘different’. Now, after so many times of her settling her love for him down upon his weary frame, he’s far less hesitant about it all.

What reason does he have for shame? When these pieces that make up the soft composition of his body are just as much him as the kindness of his heart, the spirit of his being? Nothing about him was ragged or rough - cartilage is, at the end of the day, just cartilage; made to bend, to sway.

“Look at you.” She murmurs against the swell of the side of his pectoral. “Absolutely divine.”

He flushes, barely visible against the cloudy red of his skin, and his lips part - tremble and shake in their attempt to form themselves around the syllables of a protest, forming the shapes, soundless. She’s heard it all before; that there is nothing divine about someone touched by Asmodeus, that such talk is sacrilege. That he’s older than her, that she’d be better with someone else.

She will entertain none of it tonight.

She silences him by pressing the flat of her tongue against his skin and drags it upwards towards his clavicle. His brow furrows at that, a choked sound bubbling up in his throat. She relishes in that, the ability to unspool his self-deprecation, replace it with the syrupy sweet rush of want. He tastes like salt and sweat and something earthy, and it makes heat pool low in her stomach.

“Beautiful.” She breathes out again, finality in her voice; she will not be undermined here, not tonight.

She’s reminded of that rush of power that fizzled through her the first time she used the tadpole against someone. Authority. White hot and electric, the euphoria followed by the crash as realization settled within her.

She does not mean to strip away his autonomy, only to strip away his doubts.

“You are incorrigible.” He huffs out, all gravel and lilt.

“And you are stubborn.” She brings two hands down to cup either of his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the ridges on his face that he had once confided made him feel dreadfully insecure. “Be selfish for once in your life, Zev, please. Let me worship you, Commander.”

A number of things happen in rather rapid succession after that.

He lets out a sound that she’s certain she’s never heard from him before, rough and low, more akin to a growl than anything else. And then he’s gripping her hips - still so gentle, even now; a habit to revisit another day, lest she push him too far. She regards him through heavily lidded eyes as she testingly rolls her hips against his own, both of them letting out soft gasps when his length drags along her slick cunt.

“Gods, you’ll be the death of me.” The tips of clawed fingertips ever-so-slightly dig into the plush of her hips. She’s beginning to question her own resolve; the feeling of him against her, the barest hint of pressure against her clit. “Would you mind - could you….”

She dips down to ghost her lips over the shell of his ear. “Go ahead,” She prompts, all breath. “Tell me what you need, Commander.”

She doesn’t expect him to be so direct, but he’s tilting his head to the side to mirror her, his breath heavy and damp against her skin. “Ride me, please, Tav. I want to see your face when I make you come.”

A ripple of heat swims within her, and the lines between who is in charge blur; perhaps it matters little in the end, so long as he knows that she loves him, all of him. Every flaw, every fracture, every bruise and blemish on his pride that is, by all accounts, not as ruined as he may think.

She sinks onto him slowly, her breath catching in cobwebbed lungs and her hands snapping to splay out over his chest as she steadies herself. She’s been with him for a year now, but every time feels like the first; emotionally charged, boils within her until she’s something else entirely - brings her up until she’s seeing the world in technicolor.

His hands grip her hips just that little bit tighter as she begins to move, grinds down against him and thanks the Gods that she was gifted with enough core strength to keep it slow and languid and deliberate.

“Divine.” He chokes out.

And isn’t that what they are, really, at the end of the day? When you strip away the honorifics and the bravado and the prowess? Mirrors. Parallels. An echo of a thing once loved and twice forgotten. Hellrider Exile. The Hero of the Gate. Names in history books that will be forgotten long before they’re dead and gone.

There’s a gloss to her eyes as she moves, chest aching with something indescribable. Far past the point of yearning, something deeper and warmer and heavier. She thinks, maybe, if she makes him cum hard enough he’ll forget duty for just a little bit. Settle with her. Let this - their home, their lives - be enough. Cast aside the need for redemption and be still.

“I love you.”

She hopes it is enough.

“I love you too, Tav, Gods - I’m….”

On any other night, he’d be settled between her thighs for ages, taking her apart piece by piece until she’s a trembling mess, uncertain of her own name. Tonight is not about her - for once, she doesn’t want things to be about her.

“Come for me, sweet thing. Let me feel you.”

Mercifully, he does not protest; just grips her hips firmly and shallowly ruts up into her like she’s his saving grace. He groans, low and heady, as he spills himself into her - a vision like this, sweat-slick and debauched.

Gripping hands dissolve into him loosely wrapping his arms around her, settling her next to him on the bed. His face buried in her shoulder, catching his breath. It’s nice, the closeness of it all; skin against skin, comforting and familiar and warm.

“I really do love you.” She whispers against the crown of his head, right where the gnarled keratin of one horn meets his scalp. “I hope you know that.”

“I know, sweetheart.” An open-mouthed kiss against the slope of her neck. “I love you too. More than you know. More than you could possibly - you are everything.”

“Can it be enough for me just to be yours, for tonight? Nothing else? Just yours.”

How does one save someone from their own self-sacrifice?

She can feel him swallow thickly, the bob of his adam’s apple. “Is that really all you want?”

She gently shifts so that she can look at him - the blaze of his eyes, the twitch of his bottom lip. “More than anything. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“It’s rotten work, loving an old thing like me.”

“Not if it’s you, Zevlor.” She pulls him closer, wraps his arms around him like a safe harbor. “Not if it’s us.”

“Very well.” There’s a flicker of emotion in his voice, and it makes her want to shout, makes her want to rip apart the world for hurting him in such a way that he feels he’s unworthy of something as fundamental as love. “I have a feeling I couldn’t dissuade you even if I tried.”

“Don’t try. Just… just be.”

He falls asleep before her, cheek pressed against her shoulder, his brow knitted together. And she offers up a supplication to every God that will listen to her that she will find a way to soothe this ache he carries. That she will bless and keep him always. That he will always be something with her.

They don’t need to be heroes. They just need to be together.

#bg3 #zevlor bg3 #zevlor x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav

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lum13 · 2 years ago

Text

Your eyes, lead it back to me.

Chapter one of the mute series.

“It says, I love you— isn’t that weird? I mean, it’s not everyday a stranger bumps into you and the first thing they do is declare their love for you.”

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

taglist: @kaitlynroseb @idkjustliving2 @angel-luv-04 @left-and-right-up-and-down @reginassweetheart @thekid4466 @engenelxver

Love at first sight. Your younger self would have laughed at that. You never really believed in it— how could you fall in love with someone you barely know?

That belief soon crumbled into pieces the moment you saw her.

Though her interaction with you was short, it felt like eternity— ever since that day, the scenario played in your head again and again like a broken record player, every second passing with your body longing for her again.

So you attempted to talk to her again— and realized for the first time that talking to someone was very hard.

Everytime you tried to actually talk to her, your throat would clog up, your body freezing with an overwhelming amount of pressure flooding over you. You walk up to her, try to have an actual decent conversation– then proceed to forget about everything you had prepared for you to talk about.

So you would stand there still, too nervous to say anything– leaving the two of you in an uncomfortable silence.

But not today. Today, you have no choice but to talk to her– so you have decided to take advantage of that. You will talk to her, even if you have to force yourself to.

It was strange, how you felt such a strong pull to a person who is not even your soulmate. You felt an immense attachment to her, and without having a decent conversation, too.

Just as the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, swiftly grabbing your books that were scattered on your desk– swinging your bag around your shoulder. You paced to the exit, ignoring the looks you got from your classmates.

Normally, you would have gone straight to the cafeteria, trying to claim the perfect lunch table for your friend group. But not today– none of those mattered at this moment.

You stopped in front of the library, breathing in and out, trying to soothe out your beating heart. You bit your lips, your fingertips playing with the edge of your uniform. You peeked through the glass, scanning for the girl in question.

There she was, flipping through the books idly. You pushed open the library door, drawing the girl’s attention. You gave her an awkward smile, setting your bag on the desk beside her.

“Hi.” You said, “I’m, uh, your project partner— as you would’ve guessed.”

Wednesday gave you a look, before glancing back at her book. A short silence followed, making you fidget in the tense air.

“Do you.. have something in mind? For the project?” You asked, watching as the girl’s lashes fluttered down, before her eyes met yours.

She nodded her head, her bangs bouncing slightly from the motion— framing her cheek perfectly.

You held your breath at the sight. The raven haired girl shifted to open her notes, pointing at the pictures— tracing the words on the paper. Though you tried so, so hard to focus on the letters, your eyes kept making their way back to Wednesday— sending you into a trance, unable to think about anything but her.

Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, your mind chanted.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts. Your breath hitched in surprise.

Wednesday glared at you, noticing your distracted state. You gave her an apologetic smile, chuckling nervously.

“Sorry— I’m kinda tired right now. I’ll focus harder.” You said, the lie slipping from your tongue easily.

You plopped your arm down to the desk, revealing your inked wrist. You felt her stare on the letters curved on your skin— and turned your waist up to look at the letters yourself.

“Oh, um, it’s my soulmate mark.” You shrugged, “It says, I love you— isn’t that weird? I mean, it’s not everyday a stranger bumps into you and the first thing they do is declare their love for you.”

You giggled, noticing the girl’s round eyes. “I know, right? Strange.”

Despite your amusement, Wednesday was feeling the opposite. She fell into a panic, millions of questions running in her mind.

“Anyways, let’s get on with the project.” You said, bending down to grab your book from your bag. The raven haired girl eyed your back, deep in thought.

“So what you’re saying is—“ You started, but your voice faded out in Wednesday’s ears. Now, it was her who couldn’t focus, with too much of the puzzle pieces messing up her mind.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Hello!! I finally got to post this chapter that I struggled so much with. Hopefully next chapter will be easier to write because I don’t wanna go through that again.

Also for the taglist, is this the right way to do it? If you want to be out of it, feel free to tell me :)

Anyways, thank you for reading! Have a great day <3

#Wednesday Addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday Addams x you #jenna Ortega x reader

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lou-struck · 2 years ago

Text

Surprise?

Eijirou Kirishima x reader

Genre: fluff

~ In the early hours of your birthday, you hear something you don't think you were supposed to.

WC: 1k

Eijirou Kirishima has never exceeded at stealth; having a power-type quirk makes his movements seem heavier and limbs less coordinated, no matter how much training he goes through.

It doesn't bother him anymore, though, He is sitting comfortably in the top ten of hero rankings, and you have helped him work through his self-consciousness from his occasional clumsiness with your gentle yet loving smiles and unconditional affection.

You mean so much to him, and since today is your birthday, he really wants to show just how much he means it by decorating the apartment with balloons and streamers while you sleep and making you a nice breakfast.

He gets to work, carefully blowing up balloon after balloon. They float upwards, covering the off-white ceiling. They sway slightly with the soft breeze that flows through the window. Feeling satisfied with his progress so far, he smiles.

It's going to be absolutely perfect!

Clang*

A clanging sound pulls you from your birthday slumber.

"What the?" You mumble out loud, sleep still lacing your voice as you try to roll into the sturdy comfort of your boyfriend's frame.

But he's not there; his sheets aren't quite cold, but you can tell that he's been out of bed for a while. No doubt, the cause of whatever seems to be going on downstairs.

You do wonder what he's doing down there, your sweet boyfriend loves to surprise you, but sometimes he can get a little overboard.

Pop*

Another sound comes from downstairs, this time undoubtedly the popping of a balloon. Aweee, he must be decorating downstairs for you. Your Heartworms at the sentiment, but you hear his footsteps coming up the stairs a bit too quickly to be subtle.

He must be coming to check that he didn't wake you up with the noise he has been making. Not wanting to hurt his heart, you roll back over and smash your face into the pillow doing your best to look like you're still sleeping.

With your eyes still shut, you hear your bedroom door creak open; Eijirou steps as softly as he can into the room, walking over to your side of the bed to check your features carefully.

You keep your poker face as best you can as his ruby color gaze lingers on you.

Fooled by your performance, he sighs in relief. "Happy Birthday, Beautiful; I'll try to keep it quiet," he whispers, kissing your forehead lightly. It is so hard to keep a straight face when he says such sweet things to you. But just before you give your not-so-sleepy self away, he turns and heads back downstairs.

Alone again, you sit back up in bed, trying to listen to the now quieter ruckus he is making downstairs. A crash here, a pop there. Your brain is painting a mental picture of what kind of sweet disaster your boyfriend is making in your honor.

Curiously, you slide out of bed and into your slippers so you can watch him put the rest of his plan into motion. Silently, you pad down the hallway glancing over the small railing at the living room below.

The angle isn't perfect, but you can see a few balloons that have been blown in your direction. You want to get closer, but you don't want Kiri to catch you too early; he would never be mad, but you don't want him to feel like all of his hard work wasn't worth it.

Taking a seat on the top of the stairs, you listen to the sounds from below, Kiri's humming, the sizzling of bacon, and the occasional squeaking of the balloons.

It's peaceful like this, and you can't wait to see everything he has done for you.

You were content to sit in your spot until he was ready to come and get you. You hear a crash unlike the ones before; this is the sound of broken glass and a rare curse coming from your boyfriend's mouth.

On instinct, you find yourself rushing down the stairs towards the sound to see what's wrong. Your feet slipping just so on the carpet, making your descent even quicker.

Just as you turn the corner, your breath is taken from you. There must be hundreds of balloons on your ceiling, reflecting the morning light from the window, making the ground below look like stained glass.

Glass?

Oh, right, what the hell just broke?

Stepping into the kitchen, you see the familiar redhead of your boyfriend with his back to you, hunched over a broken coffee mug, sweeping the ceramic pieces into a dustpan, and feeling dreadfully guilty about it. He makes sure to collect each shard carefully; after all, the glass may not hurt him, but it would be a pain if you were to hurt yourself over his mistake.

He turns around, jumping a bit when he notices your presence in the doorway.

"Suprise," he smiles brightly, his pointed grin as infectious as ever, hiding the dustpan behind him sneakily. "Happy Birthday." he steps towards you and envelopes you in one of his signature embraces. His warm sturdiness comforts you more than any weighted blanket or a steamy cup of tea could.

"Good morning," you hum contentedly and wrap your arms around him lovingly. "Did you do all this for me?"

"I did," he says proudly, peppering your skin with a few kisses, "were you surprised?"

His morning stubble tickets your skin as you giggle, "Yes, I was so surprised."

It's not quite a lie but rather a half-truth. But he had worked so hard on everything you can't just tell him he woke you up an hour ago.

"I'm glad; I really thought I woke you up earlier." He sighs in relief. "I accidentally popped a few balloons with my quirk; it's a good thing you can sleep like a log."

You smile knowingly as you bring him in your first of many birthday kisses.

#bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha fluff #kirishima eijirou #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #kirishima fluff #kirishima #x reader

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edutainer2022 · 9 months ago

Text

UNREQUITED Ch 7.5

Co-written with @janetm74

Ch 7 | Ch 8 | AO3

A piece, concurrent with the ending of Ch 7 (Page Six). A glimpse into Scott's reaction and overall state of mind (aka the lies his heartbreak is telling him). Virgil is being a very supportive brother, but he's out of his depth quite a bit.

(interlude)

*interlude*

Virgil startled, as he didn't expect his brother to speak. Not since he picked him up off the floor of Dad's study, hyperventilating, amidst the shards of the broken whiskey glass and the shattered picture frame of Scott's AirForce graduation photo Dad kept on his desk.

Not since they holed up in one of the Round House guest rooms, while the short notice preparations of the impromptu "wedding party" were afoot.

Virgil quietly debated with John to maybe ask to call it off, but it was Penelope's request. And Gordon was so excited. They wondered if that was also Lady P's sneaky way to arrange a getaway for her friend Kayo and Rigby in a beautiful, romantic setting. That would have been a move right up her alley.

None of that certainly helped improve Scott's mood or made him more forthcoming. Big brother was just not all there since the news announcement and the breakdown in the study.

Virgil wondered if Scott even noticed his brother was an ever present shadow at his side those past two days. Apparently he did.

They saw FAB 1 land on the island, earlier than expected, from the vantage point of the mountain terrace.

Then John's message came through - that the "wedding" was an elaborate GDF undercover op. Scott reacted to that in a way Virgil didn't anticipate - with a laugh that chilled him to the bone. A laugh of a madman.

Virgil was still unsure what to say, once his brother calmed down, but Scott spoke first.

"I can't do this anymore."

Virgil's chest tightened. Virgil shifted to press himself closer to Scott's shoulder and provide support. Whatever his brother needed at the moment. Scott's voice was hoarse.

"I can't feel like this anymore. I can't! I want to stop!"

"Scotty, you're scaring me."

Virgil didn't intend to sound so small and unsure, but the raw pain Scott let him see up close, left the little brother in him rattled. Virgil leaned his chin on Scott's shoulder, an extra anchoring point in the storm.

"I can't feel like I couldn't ever be happy. I want to stop! All of it. Just stop!"

Virgil's vision swam. There was a determination behind the anguish in his brother's voice that got him so scared all the way back in the Arctic blizzard. That was a step before Scott setting a self-destruction course.

Virgil tried again with the softest inflection, usually reserved to shocked rescuees:

"Scotty, it's okay. You deserve all the happiness you ever wish for, I promise!"

It didn't have an intended effect, as big brother snorted bitterly.

"That's just it, Virgie - I DON'T! She was right."

Virgil's educated guess as to the "she" was immediately confirmed.

"She was right. I was Dad's charity case. He probably saw right away I wasn't cut out for GDF, so planned to pull me out anyway. That was even before... That Place."

Virgil shuddered. Any mention of the hell in Bereznik those months were for Scott (and for them all) was a minefield of its own. But Scott wasn't done.

"And after... Dad didn't even trust me to go on Zero-X with him. Didn't trust me to save him! She was right - I'm a waste of AirForce training and Dad's hopes!"

Scott was sobbing more than talking coherently at that point, so Virgil concentrated on clutching him for dear life, as if scared the brother would fracture into pieces if he let go. His own tears were soaked in by the denim shirt.

John's notice he was coming up remained unread.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #pairing: scott/kayo #virgil tracy #virgil tracy needs a hug #scott tracy/original character #that didn't work #earth and sky #bereznik headcanons #scott tracy needs his dad #thunderbirds 2015 #my fic #janetm74

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xoxo-sarah · 2 years ago

Text

Bye Bye Baby // First Heartbreak

↝a/n: I kinda enjoyed writing this. Feedback is appreciated. ALSO next part of I Wanna Yours will be coming out soon!

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝ Warning: angst, break up, first heartbreak, out of character Robin (?), Mention of a character death, not correctly lined up lyrics with the Moments, timelines are all over the place- bare with me, not proofread

↝⎙ 7.5.24

(Lyrics are Bold.)

It wasn't just like a movie

The rain didn't soak through my clothes, down to my skin

Usually in movies, when the main character gets their heart broken, it is raining, becoming a dramatic scene that every teen girl was supposed to cry their eyes out over when seeing.

Your heart laid in a million pieces and there wasn't a rain drop in sight. This wasn't what you expected your first heartbreak to be like.

I'm driving away and I, I guess you could say

This is the last time I'll drive this way again

2 weeks later, no word from anyone. Not Robin, not your friends. You were tempting to get in your car and at drive until Hawkins and the memories faded into the far, far distance.

Lost in the gray and I try to grab at the fray

'Cause I, I still love you but I can't

"Robin, I..." The phone was held tightly by your hand close to your ear. You seemed to stay by the phone for the past week. Waiting for someone, anyone to reach out. Most of your hope was for the girl you prayed to see-hold...again. Before you could say anything else, you put the phone back into its holder, like you have at least 10 times.

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

The movie you used to rent, the one you loved so much you eventually bought- skipped. Many nights sitting on the couch of your family home, cuddled up with the person you loved, watching and laughing, maybe crying until it hurt, skipped. Bits and pieces breaking out on the VHS. The tape was glitching until the tape broke, the actual tape inside becoming a mess. It was as if the black block looked up at you, laughing. Mocking.

Bye, bye, baby

The pillow she'd barely sleep on, opting to sleep laying on your chest, somehow smelt like her. Not a purfume of cologne, her scent. One of the many things you loved, craved about her. You didn't know if you should wash it or hold it close, wishing with every ounce of your being that it was her instead. If it was her, the scent would never fade.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

You promised yourself to stop trying to contact her. If you had any self-respect, you'd stop. However, you couldn't help the feeling you'd get when the phone rang. It was embarrassing.

And all I have is your sympathy

Robin stood in front of you, fiddling with her rings, not looking you in the eye. She couldn't bring herself to do so.

"So, you're breaking up with me?" After a moment, she slowly nodded. "Can I ask why?"

Her heart broke for you when your voice broke.

You didn't blame her, you never could do such a thing. She didn't feel the same and that's okay.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

"Y/n/n, I really am sorry." Walking towards your house, it was pure silence, only the sniffles from you and the rock that would slide under Robin's shoes, making her kick it along the side walk. Coming up to your drive way, she broke the silence.

Bye, bye, baby

Nodding, you continued towards the porch, wanting nothing more than drag yourself into your room and sob into your pillow, or maybe in the shower where you could blame the water for the liquid rolling down your face instead.

The picture frame is empty

On the dresser, vacant just like me

Week 1 your mom had done you the favor of getting everything of hers out of the room. Well, first she wanted you to get out of your room, but deciding on plan b as she sympathized with your first heartbreak. Thankfully she didn't think of Robin's pillow, but she took the picture. It was of you and Robin before a pep rally. She was in her band outfit while you were in normal clothes, ready to stare at your girlfriend in adoration at her talent, not paying attention to whoever was supposed to be the center of attention at the event. Your mother had caught the photo, always being one for capturing moments. It honestly hurt her to get rid of the picture. She really adored her.

I see your writing on the dash

"This car is literally ancient."

The old Chevrolet Bel Air was all dusty, your father not having cleaned it in probably 20 years, where the car sat in the garage, untouched. He had given it to you after you finally got your license, a spur of the moment. The car was a gift, so you didn't gripe about the dust. What did concern you was the way the car could probably fall apart from not running for so long, but surprisingly held up well. "Obviously." Robin sat forward, rubbing her finger on the dash, writing something, her finger coming back with a black mark.

Your nose scrunched in disgust. "Don't do that."

She made a sound of disgust before wiping it on her jeans.

"All jokes aside, it's a pretty car."

You couldn't agree more. The pretty red paint job was shiny after the car wash, almost blinding.

Then back to your hesitation

Reaching across, your hand making contact with hers, fingertips running up the inside of her wrist, moving up to intertwine with her slender fingers. She hesitated, looking down at your hand as you continued paying attention to the road in front of you. She relaxed her hand, letting your fingers intertwine into one comforting moment.

I was so sure of everything

As your fingers met, your lips twitched into a small smile, glancing over at her looking out at the blurred trees and houses. God, you would never get over her side profile.

Everything I thought we'd always have

Your eyes watched the old couple hold each other as they walked over to the bence a little aways from the park. As long as you went to this park, even as a kid, the couple had walked to the park, talking about whatever they wished, never seeming to run out of things to talk about. The women's wrinkled old hand moved to throw bread crumbs around, struggling to bend her knees to sit down on the old wooden bench, having her husband attempt to help. The old man tried to smile. Although it might have been a struggle to get placed, or do much of anything, you could tell the old couple loved every second of it because they did it together, they went through it together. Hearing commotion from beside you, you turned, seeing Robin's blushing face as she tried to clean the juice stain on the picnic quilt. She apologized profusely, trying to dab and drag with the napkins. The stain wasn't budging but you didn't mind, simply staring at her before you assured her it was fine.

Guess I never doubted it

"I adore you." You noticed every highlight she had gotten from the sun as you laid in your bed, the early sun lighting your room as you ran your hand through her hair. She hummed from her spot of your chest, sounding sleepy.

Then the here and the now floods in

Feels like I'm becoming a part of your past

Walking through the park, something made you look up, you didn't really know what.

A familiar brown head of hair was standing not that far away from the walking trail that you were on, subconsciously walking past where you had sat for a picnic with the person you would've easily grown old with, fed the bird with. She smiled at a red head, keeping a proximity that was obviously forced due to the peoples possible opinions that stood around.

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

Bye, bye, baby

You had to fight with yourself to turn away, look anywhere but her- them. For your heart's sake.

Your eyes landed on the bench. The empty bench.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

And all I have is your sympathy

When you went home, you couldn't help but ask your mom at dinner. "Mom, you know the couple who would go to the park and feed the birds?"

She looked up, her chewing slowing as she stared at you, before nodding. She swallowed before clearing her throat.

"Yes, Honey. Have you heard?"

"Heard what?"

Your mom glanced at your father from his spot at the table.

"The woman died a week ago, sweetie."

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

Bye, bye, baby

As soon as you opened the door, you mother looked up from her place on the couch, smiling at your back. She always loved seeing how happy you were after dates with your girlfriend.

She was about to ask all about it before you turned around, lips trembling and tears cascading down your face. Her face fell as she got up, moving to comfort you.

"She broke up with me, mom." You sobbed in her arms, like you have plenty of times in your life. But this was different.

There's so much that I can't touch

Your sweet mother had put everything of Robin's in a cardboard box in the garage, ready anytime you wanted to do whatever- give it back or burn it, totally up to you. But every time you went into the garage, you ignored it. According to you, there wasn't even a box.

You're all I want but it's not enough this time

Speaking of the nonexistent box, you had reached for something hanging up behind it on the wall, something your father asked for when your arm bent, knocking the box forward and off the shelf. Everything scattered on the cold concrete floor. You huffed, bending down to pick everything up. Your fingers skimming over the soft clothing and knickknacks you bought her. Sitting the knocked over box upright, you began throwing everything in, trying not to pay too much attention to the old memories you were throwing without a care.

And all the pages are just slipping through my hands

And I'm so scared of how this ends

"Bug?"

Your father stood in the garage door, after not hearing from you after asking you to get the thing - that was long forgotten now- he came looking. He stopped, watching as you hunched over a cardboard box, looking up into the roof, trying to hold tears at bay. He frowned, moving forward and helping you up, leaving the box to deal with later, only wanting you to get inside.

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

"Steve," Acknowledging the man you saw before you, you couldn't help feeling a little happy about seeing an old friend, even if it was running into him in a store. You two had gotten along great, you considered him a friends. Robin trusted him with her life, so you would too.

He sent back a tight-lipped smile, seeming slightly uncomfortable with the whole interaction before he slipped past you.

Bye, bye, baby

"I'm doing great." Robin beamed, seemingly believing the smile you plastered on your face before she started up a conversation. It didn't help it was in the park yet again. There wasn't really any reason for you being here, the memories not doing you any good, but maybe a walk would. Atleast, that's what you told yourself. "Really great."

The lovesick expression she had in her face quite obviously wasn't for you, you're not sure it had ever been.

But she was happy.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

And all I have is your sympathy

Feeling weak at the knees after Robin walked off, you took refuge in the old bench. Oh the irony.

You were supposed to grow old with Robin and sit here. Grow old and feed the stupid bird with stupid bread that you'd eventually had trouble with with age. But Robin would help, smiling lovingly.

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side

"Hon?" Wiping at your eyes, you looked up. The old man kindly smiled, his old, shaky hands trying to motion to the spot beside you. "Oh no,-god. No- please. Sit." You scooted over more, wiping more at your eyes as he sat. You two sat in silence, not the usual uncomfortable silence most old men would have happening. This old man seemed like the sweetest man to ever walk this earth.

"She wasn't my first."

"What?" You asked because 1, you had barely heard him with how his voice wavered and 2, you weren't really sure what he was talking about.

"Becky, she wasn't my first girlfriend, or even my first wife."

"Oh." That had to be the old lady's name.

"I know you know of her, you'd watch with a smile as she fed the birds ever since you were little. Most people did." Above his lip wrinkled as he fondly smiled. "So many people have commented on our trip here. On our love."

"I'm sorry for your loss." You couldn't help but feel bad. He lost his woman who he loved so dearly that many people were as inspired by them as you were.

"Thank you, dear." He went back to before, going through the many comments people have made on the cute couple. "It took time. I had just got divorced. Becky nearly ripped my head off as I used a couple of my Pop's old pickup lines while I still wore a wedding ring. But she listened, she believed me. I'm thankful we both met that day, even under difficult circumstances. That girl might not have been the one, and that's okay. You'll find a Becky. Everyone will."

Bye, bye, baby

"They're adorable, aren't they?" You had turned behind, looking at your newly girlfriend, after seeing the old couple walk away, back to wherever they come from every evening. Robin hummed, running her fingers absentmindedly over the back of your hand, mind elsewhere. You two sat under the usual tree you always sat under.

I want you bad but it's come down to nothing

And all I have is your sympathy

"Thanks." Robin awkwardly grabbed the box out of your hand, moving deeper into her home to put the box down, seeing the top layer of everything she had left, not quite having the nerve to ask for everything back. Truthfully, she would've been fine if you threw it away or burned it.

'Cause you took me home but you just couldn't keep me

Oh, you took me home, I thought you were gonna keep me

"I'm proud of you, sweetie." You mother smiled at you across the table, reaching across the table to squeeze you hand before picking her fork up again. The proud smile never left her face. Your first heartbreak feels the worst for most people, the tears, the overthinking- scenarios running through your head of what you could've done to make her leave, what you could've done to make her stay. But you got over it. You're trying to heal and she couldn't be more proud.

Bye, bye, baby

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#Spotify #sarahwasfound🍉#robin buckley #📼#robin buckley fanfic #stranger things fanfic #robin buckley angst #robin buckley x reader #stranger things imagine #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x female reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things angst #robin buckley fanfiction

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