#this man could not recognize a healthy relationship if it punched in his face | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years ago

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bad day | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj has a bad day and he just wants to be with you

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of abuse, sad jj, fluffy ending (ofc)

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

3.5k+ words

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To the outside world, JJ Maybank has a perfect life. He has the best group of friends, he parties all the time, he has all the freedom in the world, and most importantly, he has you.

To the outside world, it is practically impossible for JJ Maybank to have a bad day. How can you have a bad day when you have a perfect life?

The only person in the world that knew that bad days are actually a common occurrence in JJ’s life, was you.

When the two of you had first started dating over a year ago, you too had believed that JJ’s life was perfect. His outgoing personality and carefree nature were what initially attracted him to you and he fought hard to maintain that persona. It wasn't until three months into your relationship that you realized that the blonde boy had it so much harder than you could've possibly imagined.

Truth be told, JJ didn't open up to you on purpose. In fact, if he had it his way, you would have never had to see him break down the way that he did.

You didn't know what to do when you first found your boyfriend laying on the bathroom floor in the Chateau, body shaking with sobs. At first, you thought he had been in another rough quarrel with Rafe and his friends. But when he looked up at you, tear stains on his cheeks and the saddest eyes you had ever seen, you knew this wasn't just some run-in with a couple of kooks.

It didn't take long for you to get over your original state of shock and comfort the boy. Your younger sister had bad anxiety and experienced panic attacks often, and still, you found yourself on the less prepared side when it came to soothing the blonde you adored so much. It was hard for you to understand that the tough, wild, teenager that you had fallen in love with was simply a cover for the fragile boy inside.

You can still vividly remember sitting on the bathroom floor for hours with JJ. Despite your unfamiliarity with your boyfriend’s suffering, there was not one second that you had even remotely questioned your love for him. If anything, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your appreciation for him grow.

JJ himself, on the other hand, did not know how to accept the comfort you had given him. He was so used to being alone every time he was feeling down. So used to hiding all of his emotions from the people around him.

The two of you went through many difficult nights of him pushing you away and trying to block you out. But just as fast as he was building up his wall, you were tearing it down.

JJ doesn't know the exact moment when he allowed himself to succumb to your solace. Still to this day, it's hard for him to believe that someone as beautiful and compassionate as you can possibly love someone like him.

The more he let you in, the harder it was to be without you and now, whenever he had a run-in with his father or was unsure of himself, his first impulse was to call you.

You never hesitated to comfort the boy, knowing that he would do the same for you. And as much as you tried to stay strong for JJ, sometimes everything got to be a little bit too much.

JJ will never forget the day you were holding him after a fight with his father and you couldn't hold it in anymore. You let out heart-wrenching sobs into his hair. The sound alone brought tears to his own eyes and the two of you held each other all night, whispering sweet nothing to one another.

JJ is having a bad day.

He should have known when he woke up this morning and you weren't in his arms. He glanced over, immediately recognizing your small handwriting on a blue sticky note which was stuck to your pillow. The note explained that your parents had asked you to come home, but that you would come back to the chateau to be with him that night.

have a great day and don't miss me too much lovie!

His heart fluttered at your sweet words. How did he get so god damn lucky? Popping open his phone case, JJ folds your note and sticks it inside, just in case he needs to read it again later.

Despite the loving feeling he got in his chest while reading your note, his day quickly went downhill.

When JJ opened the cabinets above the sink to make himself a bowl of cereal, they were empty. He brushed it off and went to work with an empty stomach.

At the hotel, a group of kids bumped into him while he was clearing a table and he dropped a wine glass on the floor, shattering it. His boss chewed him out for 30 minutes before putting him on dish duty for the rest of his shift.

After work, JJ went to the local market and used his tip money from the day to buy a sandwich and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for you. He knew you would make a big fuss about him spending his money on you, but he loved to see the cute look of surprise on your face whenever he got you something like this. It made whatever he had gotten for you worth every penny.

On his way back to the Chateau, JJ was stopped by none other than Rafe, Topper, and Kelse on their bikes. He tried his best to ignore them, knowing that you hated when he got into fights, but as soon as Rafe mentioned a snide comment about your ass, JJ immediately threw the first punch. He didn't realize until after the fact that one of them had stomped on the flowers he bought for you.

As much as he hated it, the blonde boy knew he needed to go home to get a fresh pair of clothes. He could always ask you to get a pair from the drawer of his clothes you had in your room, but that would require telling you what had happened and he didn't want to be a bother while you were with your family.

He knew he was screwed when he arrived at his “house” and saw his father's truck parked in the dirt outside. JJ hoped that he would be able to slip by without being noticed, but his horrible luck from the day continued.

His father was in the stage of his drinking where he was drunk enough to be angry with his son, but not drunk enough for JJ to outrun him.

JJ’s cheek throbbed on his walk back to the Chateau and he was sure that he was sporting a fresh black eye. His ribs were sore as hell and the only thing that kept him moving was the thought of seeing you.

When he arrived at John B’s house he instantly took note of your missing car. He prayed that you had simply walked and that he would see you laying on the couch when he entered.

There was someone sitting on the couch, but it was not the person JJ was looking for.

“Dude,” John B said when he noticed JJ’s figure standing in the doorway. “What happened to your face?”

“Where's (Y/N),” the blonde asked, ignoring John’s question.

“She called and said she wasn't sure if she would make it,” Kie said, drawing JJ’s attention to where she was standing. “Her friend Carlee’s boyfriend cheated on her, so she went to comfort her. She said she tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail,” the curly-haired girl explained.

Glancing down at his phone, JJ noticed it was dead. His shoulders slumped. All he wanted was to see his girl after a shit day, was that too much to ask? He knew first hand your dedication to your loved ones, and he knew it wasn't fair of him to want all of your comfort and love for himself, but he couldn't help it.

You were too nice, he decided. But that's why he loved you so much, wasn't it?

“So what happened to your face,” John B asked again, taking a sip of his beer.

JJ glowered at his best friend. “What do you care,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn't take his frustrations out on John B, but you were his coping method and he didn't know what to do without that.

John B raised his hands in defense, standing up to grab another beer. “Jeez, dude,” he said, “Just asking.”

“Well maybe you should mind your own goddamn business,” JJ yelled.

The brunette boy halted his actions and turned to face JJ. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, voice rising. “You really want to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.” He definitely didn't. “You know,” JJ snapped, “Maybe if you spent time with your actual friends instead of your fucking kook girlfriend, you would know what was going on in my life.”

John B scoffed “That's rich coming from the guy who spends every waking moment trying to impress a girl who's way out of his league,” he yells.

JJ knows he's right. You were too good for him. But you chose him anyway. Why?

“Fuck you,” JJ sneers, shoving past his best friend and walking out the back doors. He needed space.

You were getting ready to leave your friend's house when Kiara called you.

Carlee was a sweet girl, and her douche of a boyfriend definitely didn't deserve her so you told her exactly that. But this wasn't the first time something like that had happened between them and based on previous occurrences, you figured Carlee would go a week before she decided to get back together with him.

It was times like these where you really thanked your lucky stars that you had found a boy like JJ. The two of you had your moments like any healthy couple, but you knew in your heart that he would never do anything to purposely hurt you.

You smiled when you saw Kie’s contact. “Hey girl,” you answer in a country accent, giggling at the end.

“(Y/N),” she said and your smile dropped, immediately understanding that there was something wrong. “You need to come to the Chateau right now.”

Your feet skid to a stop and you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Is JJ okay?” you ask her in a rushed tone.

Kie’s voice is shaky when she speaks. “He came over today with a black eye and a bruised cheek and when John B asked about it JJ kind of freaked out,” she explains. “They are screaming at each other right now. (Y/N), you gotta come quick,” you could hear yelling in the background.

“I'm on my way,” you assure her, hanging up. You run to your car, heart twisting in worry. It wasn't like your boyfriend to act like this so you knew something had to have happened.

You drove to the Chateau faster than you ever have before, getting there in under five minutes. The second your car pulled up to the house. You were flying out of your car and running inside the screen door.

“He's outback,” John B says upon seeing you enter.

Your eyes snap to him and they soften at the sight of his distraught face. “You alright, JB?” you ask.

He nods slowly. “I've never seen him like that, (Y/N),” John B tells you, his voice laced with worry. “You gotta help him.”

You nod your head, walking outside to find your boyfriend. You don't have to go far, spotting his hunched over the figure on the porch steps.

Slowly, you make your way towards the boy, and despite the fact that it's the middle of summer he is shivering violently.

You place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately flinches away from your touch. Your heart breaks at his reaction. “JJ, love, it's me,” you tell him softly, crouching down next to his body.

Hearing your voice, JJ lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears and the skin around the right one is hidden by blue and purple. Your eyes scan his face and you take note of the bruise on his cheekbone and his split lip. Your hands itch to remove his shirt, knowing that there are more hidden underneath.

The sound of JJ’s choked sob brings your eyes instantly back to his.

“Oh, J,” you say sorrowfully, opening your arms for him. “C’mere.”

The blonde boy instantly falls into your embrace and you cradle his body tightly. He sobs into your shoulder and you feel a wet patch grow in your shirt. “I needed you, I need you,” he cries into your shoulder.

Softly shushing him, you run your fingers through his hair. “I'm here, J, I'm here,” you tell him, your heart aching for the boy in your arms. You don't know exactly how long you sit there, his hands clutching the back of your shirt tightly.

Slowly, his sobs die down before he is only sniffling every few seconds.

You pull back slightly, tenderly cupping his face in your hands. “Can we go inside?” you ask, gently brushing back the blonde curl that had fallen over his forehead.

JJ nods slightly and you stand up on the porch, helping him do the same. You bite your lip when you notice his subtle limp on the way inside. You notice how quiet the Chateau is and silently thank John B and Kiara for giving JJ the space he needs.

Leading him into the bathroom, you help JJ sit on the counter and you quickly grab the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Opening it, you grab a cotton swab and an alcohol wipe to clean his lip and cheek, wordlessly realizing how many times you've had to do this.

“Why are you here,” the blonde boy asks abruptly. If you weren't paying attention you would have missed his small voice.

“What'd you mean, J?” you ask, continuing your work.

JJ sighs. “Why are you here?” he asks again, slightly louder, but still quieter than you are used too.

“Well, I was leaving Carlee’s house and Kie called me and told me that you-” JJ cuts you off, pulling away from your grasp slightly.

“No, (Y/N),” his tone is harsh but you can hear the brokenness laced behind it. “Why are you here? With me instead of with your friends? Or better yet another guy that can buy you nice things and doesn't have emotional trauma? A guy who's not broken?” he says the word with such hatred that it shakes you to your core.

“JJ,” you gasp, hurt flashing across your features. How could he think that? JJ instantly wants to take it back, but he wants even more to know your answer. “You are not broken, you hear me?” you say, honesty clear in your voice. “Your flaws are what make you, you. I don't need fancy gifts or expensive jewelry to make me love you! I love every single thing about you, JJ Maybank. From your head to your toes. I love you just the way that you are and there is nothing you can do to take that away from me. Ever.” Your voice is strong and serious. You leave no room for argument as you continue to patch up his face.

JJ doesn't speak again letting the words sink in, scared that he will break down for the second time that night. His eyes fall to the floor and he lets you tend to his cuts.

When you are satisfied with your work on his face, you tap the boy's arm lightly and his eyes snap to yours. “Lift your shirt so I can see,” you ask him, not making eye contact. When he doesn't move, your eyes lock with his. “Please, J,” you beg, in a quiet voice, “I need to see.”

The blonde knows he will never be able to say no to you, especially when you ask him that way, so he gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and wincing when he moves the wrong way.

JJ expects you to pity him. To tell him you're sorry the way everyone does. But you simply stare at his injuries, eyes welling with tears. And this, JJ decides, makes him feel infinitely worse.

Your hand reaches out to trace the large, purple-black bruises. JJ shivers at the touch of your soft hands on his skin.

He grabs your hand suddenly, pulling it up to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I'm sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, using the hand not in JJ’s to run through his hair. “None of that, okay? I'm here because I want to be. And I will always be. No matter how many times you try to push me away.”

You feel hot tears on your hand and you quickly slide between his legs, pulling him back into your chest, careful of the bruises on his ribs.

“I love you,” JJ cries into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything else in this fucked up world.”

“Shh,” you say softly. “I know, lovie, I know. I love you too. Endlessly.”

JJ pulls back at your words, just enough so that he can look into your eyes.

You used to think your favorite color was purple. When you were ten you painted your entire room purple and even bought purple bedding. But the moment you looked into JJ’s cerulean eyes, it instantly became your new favorite color.

JJ looks from your eyes to your lips before leaning forward to kiss you.

The kiss was soft and passionate explaining every emotion the two of you were feeling. No matter how many times the two of you kissed, your heart raced like it was the very first time.

Pulling away for air, JJ rests his forehead on yours.

“What happened today, J?” you ask in a quiet voice.

JJ bites his lip, leaning back slightly. His first instinct is to tell you that nothing happened and that he's okay, but JJ knows you wouldn't believe him for a second. So he recalls his day, telling you every detail. Just knowing that you know, makes JJ’s heart feel a little less heavy. “A-and I bought you these flowers from the florist on main, y-y'know the ones you love, and I couldn't even bring them to you,” he says sadly.

You caress his cheek. “Love, I don't care about the flowers, all that matters is that you're okay,” you assure him, honesty evident in his voice. “And as for your father, you are staying here or at my house from now on and the next time I see that son of a bi-”

JJ cuts you off, grabbing your hands. The last thing he ever wants is his father hurting you. “(Y/N), no,” he says, the vulnerability in his voice evident. “You need to promise me that you won't confront him. I don't want you getting hurt.”

You sigh, knowing how important this is to the blonde boy. “Only if you promise not to go back there unless I'm with you,” you compromise with him.

He nods, kissing your forehead gently. “Can we please go to bed,” JJ asks and you can hear the sleepiness in his voice. Nodding, you help JJ off the counter and the two of you walk to the spare room in the chateau. The two of you climb into the bed. You are still in your clothes from the day, but that is the last thing on your mind.

JJ moves his arms to wrap around your middle but you gently push his shoulder back. “Turn around, J,” you tell him quietly. You know that JJ secretly loves to be the little spoon and you secretly love to be the big spoon. He would never openly ask you to spoon him, but you can read his body language like a book.

He rolls to his other side and you wrap an arm around his bare middle, careful not to hit any of his bruises. You nuzzle your nose into the back of his tanned shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply.

“I love you (Y/N)” your boyfriend whispers, his hand reaching to hold your hand that is tracing his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

You press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Always, JJ,” you tell him earnestly. “I love you more than anything.”

The blonde boy falls asleep in your embrace, feeling truly safe for the first time that day.

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masterlist :)

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pekotranslates · 3 years ago

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Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 53-72

“I think that was when I began to change. I trained my body and became stronger. I had goals and structure. It felt like…I had my whole life sorted out.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” said Barret. “And nothing mattered other than that, right?”

“Hmm. Sorry, that’s not it. Everything mattered to me then. I got rid of my picky habits instead.”

“Oh…”

“Master Zangan used to go to Nibelheim once every two months after that. Sometimes it would be for a long period of time, sometimes not. The Calisthenics Club was still running, you see, so he would also help teach there. Hearing him praise the grandmothers made me so happy because it felt like I was being praised too.”

※

“Hmm...”

Zangan peered over her notes and let out a sigh. The notes were filled with questions she had jotted down while doing her individual training. At the very end she wrote down characteristics of each and every individual in the Calisthenics Club: This person had a bad left leg, or this one couldn’t raise her shoulder, or this one couldn’t lift with her back. She wrote their strong and weak points, stamina, family structures, and any sensitive topics not to bring up. Every little thing she noticed she jotted down, as well as countermeasures, exercises, and forms for them to focus on.

“This is exactly what Zangan-Ryu is about, Tifa.”

He happily returned the notes to her.

“Now then, is your father home?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well, I’d like to pay him a visit and offer my greetings, if that’s all right.”

“All right.”

She wasn’t sure what his intentions were and felt a twinge of anxiety. But ever since she started training with him, the relationship between him and her father had improved. Certainly there wouldn’t be any problems. Brian Lockhart welcomed Zangan.

At first there were glimpses of animosity in Brian’s manner towards him, perhaps from seeing his daughter look up to someone other than himself. But now that he recognized how Zangan had helped her to grow in a healthy way, both physically and mentally, his attitude towards him completely changed.

“Mr. Lockhart, there’s something I’d like your help with, and that’s why I’m here. Of course, it’s about Tifa.”

Both father and daughter froze.

“She’s remarkably talented, and she continues to train day in and day out with great willpower. There are only a few students I expected to be able to do this without guidance or, I should say, without any supervision. That’s where Tifa comes in.”

Zangan fixed his gaze on her. She grew even more anxious.

“We’ll start on Volume 5 tomorrow.”

The heat rose to her face. It was time. Volume 4 would complete her basic training, and then she would begin on techniques to be used in a real-life fight.

“Okay!”

“Mr. Lockhart, I was wondering if I could appoint you to be her sparring partner? I mean her partner for mock battles. Because previously, you see, there was this young man who, due to my inadequate tutelage, chose to spar with monsters in the wild and lost his life in a rather unfortunate way. I don’t want that tragedy to repeat itself.”

“Master Zangan,” said her father with a baffled expression, “is this something an amateur such as myself is even capable of doing?”

“Well, there’s lots of work for the both of you until you get used to it.”

“Lots…”

“Having said that, holding back tends to injure both parties, the one hitting and the one receiving those hits. I’ll have you wear those whatchamacallit on your body to protect yourself. You’ll be fine! You can substitute whatever you have at home.”

After hearing Zangan’s response, her father glanced over at Tifa. She met him with a hopeful gaze.

“All right, I’ll do it. What do you need me to do?”

“Papa, thank you!” Tifa happily threw her arms around her father’s neck. It had been a while since she had done that.

Zangan taught both father and daughter the basic punches and kicks as well as defensive movements that were shown in Volume 5, and then left the village.

Brian Lockhart, who had always been dextrous and an absolute perfectionist, created an even better training gear than what Zangan had proposed. Using his gear, the two of them would do their workouts, performing mock battles at home or occasionally on Mt. Nibel where people seldom ventured.

The next time Zangan returned was three days before Tifa’s fifteenth birthday. With her Sensei watching and her father as her sparring partner, she demonstrated all the moves she had learned from the fifth volume. He pointed out and remedied some of her personal interpretations or any unwanted habits.

“Well then, would you like to fight one last battle with me today?”

“Sensei, are you saying you’re going to be my sparring partner?”

“Yes. I won’t wear any armor, and I won’t use my arms or legs. I will simply dodge your attacks and judge accordingly.”

“Sensei,” said her father. “Please use the protective gear. I won’t have you getting injured.”

Zangan roared with laughter at that. He held onto his stomach, and after having a good laugh, lightly jumped and landed behind her where he beckoned with his hand as if to taunt her. He seemed like a completely different person from before; his jaw upturned, he stared her down with such arrogance.

“You naive little country girl. Come on! Need someone to play with?”

She couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Her emotions bubbled up violently.

“Tifa, calm down—”

Before her father could finish speaking, she charged at Zangan and threw a right punch. This running-and-punching technique was not mentioned in the Book of Secrets. She heard the sound of contact as Zangan absorbed her punch in his large hand.

“Just a scratch,” he sneered at her, jerking down her clenched fist before releasing his grip. Tifa staggered back and fell flat on the ground.

“Have you forgotten your retreating footwork? Volume 4, Step 3-3.”

Tifa gritted her teeth and rose to her feet. This time she brought both fists up to guard her face and steadily inched closer while spacing herself. Using the footwork she learned from Volume 4, Step 3-2, she circled clockwise around Zangan.

“Oh? Looking much better. What will you do next?”

As if confronting her directly, Zangan rotated in his spot. He kept his guard position with both hands up. She could not find any weak spots.

“Ahhh!” There was no chance of victory, yet she rushed at him anyway, swinging her fists. But not a single punch landed on Zangan in the end.

Zangan bowed toward Tifa who stood still, breathing heavily. However, she did not return his bow. So many questions were jumbled up inside her head.

Her father invited Zangan to dinner, which he happily accepted. Zangan devoured the food her father cooked and the muffins Tifa baked. He reluctantly accepted renumeration from her father as well.

“But I won’t need any further payments. I don’t charge any of my other students, you see. May I donate this to the organization that I belong to?”

“The money’s yours to spend however you like, but I’m very curious. What kind of organization is it?”

“One that works daily for the future of our children. You could say we’re volunteers. We simply call ourselves a liaison group or a network. Our activities branch out in so many directions that we have not yet settled on a name.”

“Sensei, Papa...”

The two adults turned to Tifa.

“Sensei, you’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, won’t you? There isn’t time. I understand your liaison group is important to you, but I need to know why none of my punches landed on you. Were you able to guess my next moves? If so, how did you know?”

Zangan watched Tifa, amused.

“I could tell you, but the answer is simple and obvious. Think about it some more and you’ll understand. I’m sure you’ll regret it if I just tell you.”

“No, it’s fine. Just tell me.”

“Wait a minute!” cut in her father. “So provoking her by calling her a country bumpkin and whatnot was all part of your strategy?”

“Hahaha! That’s absolutely right! Her anger caused blood to rush to her head, which was sure to make her forget half of what she learned.”

“Hearing you say something like that, when you’re someone I respect… The first thing I felt was shock, then hurt, and then sadness. The anger came after.”

Her comment was followed by a look of discomfort on Zangan’s face. “It was a strategy that lacked dignity. Don’t you dare try to copy me.”

“I won’t, I promise. But I wonder how I wasn’t able to get in even a single hit.”

Zangan cleared his throat and straightened himself in his seat.

“Your eyes. I could see your next move from the look in your eyes.”

“Ohh...”

As Tifa sat dumbfounded, her father cooed with admiration next to her.

“Ah, I keep going easy on my students!” laughed Zangan.

She was frustrated for having chosen the shortcut to the answer, and it also irritated her that things turned out just as Zangan said.

“Tifa Lockhart, I’ll give you something nice to celebrate your birthday.”

He twisted around in his seat, and from behind his chair pulled out a cord from a leather backpack which was his traveling things. The cord appeared to be made of leather that was of a matching color.

“This cord may come in handy when traveling. You can come up with so many uses. Just by your imagination. Perhaps it can even turn into a useful weapon. Here, give me your hand. Your left is fine.”

Tifa watched her teacher’s face. He nodded confidently. She nervously held out her left hand. Zangan’s large fingers moved skillfully, wrapping the cord around her wrist, loosely twisting it into a double layer, and then tied it in a loop to complete a simple cord bracelet.

“At the moment I taunted you, caught your fist and dodged all of your attacks, you let your emotions consume you. Not only did you forget the fruit of your labors, but you forgot your manners too. Now it’s okay to be angry. Anger can be a powerful force at times. However you must control it. Tifa, do remember who your arch-enemy is?”

“Myself…”

“Formidable, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“When you feel like you’re about to lose, look at your wrist. Touch the cord. I want you to remember today’s lesson.”

Tifa stared at the leather strap around her wrist and nodded.

“It’s nothing elegant, but you’ll just have to live with it. With more practice, you’ll soon find it unnecessary, and then you can take it off your wrist and transfer it into your mind.”

The next morning, Tifa and her father saw Zangan to the exit as he departed on his journey.

“Tifa, do you remember our conversation about eye contact?”

“Of course I do.”

“Your speed is the best of the best. If you can break that habit, I might not even be able to handle you completely.”

“Really?!”

“Well, it’s up to you. Alright, I’ll give you a goal.”

Zangan looked up at the sky.

“In half a year, I’ll conduct a test. If you can land one hit on me with your fist, I will let you hold the Menkyo Kaiden*.”

Menkyo Kaiden is a Japanese term meaning “license of total transmission”. It is a certificate that is granted by the Ryu, or other organization meaning that the recipient has learned everything that the organization or Ryu can teach, and is licensed to pass on all aspects of its training.

“Menkyo Kaiden?”

It sounded thrilling, but they had no idea what it meant. Father and daughter exchanged glances.

“I will teach you everything from the Zangan-Ryu, and together we’ll figure out your hand-to-hand fighting style.”

“Wow…”

“Amazing, I know. But it won’t come easy. Be very diligent.”

“I will!” replied both father and daughter. Her father had answered with boyish enthusiasm, happy as if the words were meant for him. He scratched his face, embarrassed. Zangan and Tifa burst out laughing at that. Soon her father joined in too.

Aiming for her test in half a year, she trained rigorously. But when summer was over, the time the Lockhart family could spend together was greatly reduced.

Monsters appeared more often on Mt. Nibel, and an investigation team had to be organized. Tifa’s father, who was a member of the village advisory board, took the initiative in joining the team. And because of that, there was a dramatic decrease in the time he could spend helping her with mock battles.

The villagers reported the unusual mountain activity to Shinra Company, but were only told to keep reporting to them on the variety of monsters they saw. Amidst the growing anxiety, they kept following Shinra’s instructions.

Soon there was a sighting of a dragon-type monster which had never been identified in Nibelheim before. Its presence instilled a heightened sense of urgency in the villagers. The Nibelheim Council, consisting of the village chief and his three advisors, decided to organize a Neighborhood Watch separate from the investigation team.

The group was to set up camp near the mountain gate and be in position to intercept the monsters coming down from the mountains. Of course, there was no guarantee that monsters would even take that route, especially the bug-like creature called ‘Insect Chimera’ that was known to have existed for a long time there. Though rarely encountered, there was a possibility that these could come flying from the sky, so armed Neighborhood Watches scattered around the village, observing the sky.

The landscape of the village had completely changed. Villagers were on constant alert day and night. It was especially exhausting for those in the Neighborhood Watch.

On September 18th, they switched from a volunteer system to a duty system. Any healthy male or female no younger than twenty years old would be required to join unless they had a valid excuse.

The next day, on the 19th, the first team was confronted by a humanoid monster at the outskirts of the village. This monster, reportedly walking on two legs with a silhouette similar to their own, stimulated people’s imagination.

What the hell was going on in the mountains? The Shinra facility was definitely behind it. In spite of Chief Zonder’s persistent demands there had been no movement, so it was fair to believe Shinra must have had some idea as to what was going on. And yet no news came down to the village.

Their frustration, spurred by distrust in Shinra Company, was about to explode.

Tifa joined the soup kitchen. Her job was to make meals for the Neighborhood Watch using the makeshift kitchen that was installed beneath the water tower. The village women took turns volunteering. She recognized a few familiar, elderly faces from the Calisthenics Club among them.

Work ended for her in the afternoon, and she got home to find her father was out. He had left her a farewell letter saying he was going to the village office, and stayed in the mountains throughout the whole night. It was around breakfast time when he returned home. It didn’t look like he got much sleep either, and he appeared to have lost weight. How long could they go on like this? She heard that some families were even planning to migrate away from the village.

For some time, she stayed cooped up in her room holding Maru in her arms and staring into space. She had so much free time on her hands.

Maru started nibbling on the leather cord on her left wrist.

“Maru, don’t!”

She placed him down on the floor and checked on her bracelet. It was fine. It hadn’t become frayed.

“I should tell myself that too.”

She rose and took a deep breath.

“Book of Secrets, Volume 2, No. 1-1-1,” she declared, rolled up her sleeves, and then began reviewing from the Book of Secrets.

Her father returned home when she was midway through Volume 4. She heard his footsteps continue up the stairs until there was a knock at her door.

“I know you’re in there. Come out for a sec.”

She did as she was told, and opened to find her father clutching a large paper box which he nudged into her arms.

“You remember Grandma Margot, don’t you? These are her daughter Jasmine’s clothes from when Jasmine was younger.”

“She’s letting me have them?”

“Yeah, she said the size should fit you. Jasmine was my childhood friend. When I looked inside the box, nostalgia hit me and it made me dizzy. She was so full of life. When she was around, everything around her suddenly became bright.”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll take a look then.”

“Yeah. If you find something you like, wear it for Margot to see. She’s been feeling a little emotional with everything going on.”

“Okay, I will. But Papa… are you getting enough sleep?”

“Oh, there’s one more thing. I’ll tell you the news and then you should go to bed. The day after tomorrow is the 22nd, and that’s when Shinra’s investigation party is coming. Seems like our report on the humanoid monsters got their attention. I bet Soldier will be coming too.”

The moment she heard the word “Soldier”, the few memories she had with Cloud Strife came flooding back. He never contacted her after they parted ways two years ago. Not knowing how to handle her growing feelings for him, she had tried to seal them away.

She realized her face had turned red, panicked, and then shut the door on her father.

“Tifa?!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!”

She tossed and turned all night. When she counted them again, her memories with Cloud were so surprisingly few that others might find it hard to believe that they grew up as next-door neighbors. But because of that, each memory stood out more vividly to her. Something to look at over and over again and then gently put back so that the shape doesn’t change.

But there was one memory in particular from her “collection” that remained blurry and invisible. The incident she got into when she was eight years old.

“Beyond Mt. Nibel is the Land of the Dead” was an old saying in the village. Tifa, who was in great turmoil over her mother’s death, clung to those words as she went into the mountains. She wanted to see her mother.

Emilio and the others went with her but, on the way, as it became stormy, they sensed danger and went back down the mountain. Of course they tried to take Tifa back with them, but Cloud Strife showed up and lured her with him, and the two of them disappeared deep into the mountains. What happened after was that the two of them slipped and fell off the mountain. Cloud got away with only scraped knees, but Tifa struck her head and lost consciousness for a week.

Emilio and his friends who came down first made a report. It spread around the village and Cloud admitted it had happened, but never made it clear why he behaved the way he did. When asked, she heard he’d only answer, "Just because."

Tifa couldn’t remember anything, but she was aware that she had caused it so she apologized. Since it happened immediately following her mother’s death, everyone sympathized with her, but Cloud ended up getting all the blame. They dismissed the fact that Tifa was mostly unharmed when she regained consciousness. For them, the week that passed by slowly when she was lying unconscious was engraved in their minds. Everyone began to think of it as an incident, not an accident, so it must have made Cloud and Claudia Strife feel small. Not much had changed since then.

Tifa felt uncomfortable because up until then, their Gang of Four weren’t able to get close to Cloud, not even once. She never talked about it with him ever again. Since Cloud confessed to it, maybe things had happened just like Emilio said.

On the other hand, it also felt like Cloud was protecting her. Because of him, she managed to escape the blame. But there didn’t seem to be any reason for him to do that. She didn’t find his “just because” very convincing. She wondered if it was time to ask him—The next time they’d meet, she would ask. The opportunity might come sooner than later.

The following day, her father examined the cellphone that was on top of the table as he normally did, and then said to her with exhilaration, “Shinra’s already here.”

Whenever Shinra staff came to Nibelheim or Mt. Nibel the signal got stronger, so the villagers would be able to communicate with each other.

“I wonder if they’re going straight into the mountains.”

“No, they arrive tomorrow, and they’ll enter the mountains from the village. Zonder’s excited about throwing them a welcoming party. Maybe they’ll send some kind of advance team.”

When she finished her meal, she joined the morning soup kitchen. Many villagers already knew that Shinra was sending a full-blown investigation team. The taut thread of tension snapped, and the atmosphere relaxed.

After about three hours of preparing sandwiches for breakfast and lunch, the morning’s work was done. Next was making supper and dinner at 3pm. Until then, she had some spare time which she chose to spend at home.

She took a shower to get rid of the sweat from work, and then returning to her room, picked up her cellphone in her hand for the first time in a while. But she didn’t have anyone’s number who she wanted to talk to.

She suddenly noticed the box left on the floor, the one her father had brought. Looking inside, she saw many colorful clothes that were instant mood-boosters when worn.

“Hmm.”

She thought it would be fun. A dark brown vest and mini skirt caught her eye. It looked like something an active girl working in a farm would wear. After matching the outfit with a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of boots, she thought to herself that she looked pretty cute.

“I’ll go with this!” She felt brighter and lighter already.

Margot, who was the mother of the owner of those clothes, was there at the afternoon soup kitchen.

“Well, well, well...” Her voice broke with emotion as she drew closer. And then she said, “Let me give you a hug.”

“Huh?”

Margot suddenly took Tifa into her arms, and pressed her cheek against Tifa’s.

“I thought Jasmine had shown up. Well, well, well!”

Tifa didn’t know what to say. She didn’t expect the woman to be this happy. But it wasn’t a bad feeling at all.

“That girl hasn’t shown her face in years. Talk about being disobedient!”

Margot let Tifa go and promised to bring her more of Jasmine’s clothes. Seemed like she had more outfits like this one.

After a quick meeting, it was decided that meatball soup would be on the dinner menu. Tifa was placed in the group prepping the vegetables. As she was chopping various vegetables, she heard a voice next to her say, “Oh my, how cute!”

Glancing over she saw Claudia Strife.

“I got this outfit from Grandma Margot. They belonged to Jasmine.”

“I knew I saw those clothes before. I wonder how Jasmine’s doing?”

“How is Cloud doing?” asked Tifa. She was surprised at herself. Her heart was beating fast. But that was the first question that popped into her head the moment she saw Claudia’s face.

“Yeah, I think he’s doing okay.”

“Is Cloud already in the mountains?”

“Huh?”

“I heard that the people Shinra sent are from Soldier. Since our signals got stronger, they think they’re coming to the mountains. I thought maybe Cloud would be with them.”

Claudia stared at Tifa with a puzzled look, and then finally said, “I didn’t hear anything about that. But even if he was coming, that boy won’t say a word. Not because he wants to surprise me or anything, but he just can’t be bothered.” Claudia chuckled. “The only time he contacted me was right after he left when he sent a letter saying that he officially enlisted.

“Really?! So then...you don’t know if he made it to Soldier or not?”

“No. But, why do you mention Soldier?”

Tifa realized the reason why they couldn’t understand each other.

“Because Cloud told me he wanted to join Soldier… Was I wrong?”

“Oh? So he told you that, did he?”

Claudia repeatedly said “huh” as she chopped the vegetables. Afterwards, the two lined up to cook. There were times she noticed Claudia looked like she was about to say something to her but held her tongue. At least that’s what Tifa noticed. Maybe she wanted to talk about the disaster incident. But Tifa didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. That’s why she was relieved when Mark Banner called to her.

“Hey, Tifa!”

Mark was the youngest member of the Calisthenics Club, but he was still much older than her father and a bit of a show-off.

“Is that white cat with the red scarf yours?”

“Yeah, his name is Maru. He has a red cloth around his neck.”

“I saw him hanging around the mountain gate.” Mark Banner wiped the sweat off his face. “But if he goes in the mountains, just give up on him, you hear? Things are bad there now.”

With that said, he went away. Tifa interrupted Claudia and took off from work.

“Not in the mountains!” She heard Claudia shouting at her back as she ran.

Without turning around she answered, “Okay!”

※

“I went looking for Maru and ended up going past the mountain gate and into the mountains. I mean, I was worried about the monsters, but I thought I knew how to deal with them. If one of those insect-types tried to attack me, I’d beat them up… I guess that’s how I felt.”

“So cool!” said Aerith in astonishment.

“No, I wasn’t. It was just overconfidence. Looking back I was pretty naive because I was met with serious trouble. The insect-type wasn’t the one I was familiar with, but some kind of enormous, mutated creature.”

“That ain’t good! So then what happened?”

“A lady from Shinra saved me. She was wearing a black suit.”

“Black suit? So a Turk?” said Aerith, surprised.

“Yeah. Come to think of it, she must have been. But she didn’t tell me her name in the end.”

“So it wasn’t Soldier that came but Turks? That’s not what we heard back in Kalm.”

“Well, I’m not sure what her motives were, but she said they were looking for a guide from Nibelheim, so I volunteered. This was communicated to our village chief and then it was decided that I would be Sephiroth’s guide. If I hadn’t run into her, things probably would have turned out differently.”

“It’s good to remember that Shinra Company still utilizes children who are barely of age,” said Red XIII.

“Why?”

“Because they’re ignorant of the world and easy to indoctrinate.”

“I wish I could go back in time to that day and tell this to myself who beamed with pride when they chose me.”

“What would you have done if you knew?” Aerith quietly asked.

Tifa wondered to herself. Maybe she would still have taken the offer because she wanted to be even just a little closer to Cloud. But she continued walking without answering. After walking for a while she suddenly remembered and glanced at Aerith. She felt Barret’s and Red XIII’s eyes on her.

“What happened after was just as Cloud had described back at Kalm. That’s the end of my Nibelheim story.”

The other three nodded silently, and then Aerith’s gaze drifted away from her own. When she looked over her shoulder, Cloud was there.

“What were you talking about?”

“My tea parties with Emilio and the others.”

Cloud looked off to the distance, and then scowled.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by pekotranslates Proofread by Eerie

#tifa lockhart #traces of two pasts #aerith gainsborough #barret wallace #ff7r #ffvii

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dannyphantom-justiceleauge · 3 years ago

Note

This may be a minor gripe but something that has kind of bothered me about discussions and depictions of Dan is how often people seem to forget that Dan isn't just an older evil Danny, he's a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost sides. Like people always talk about him like Danny threw away his humanity and turned evil but that's not even true. Sure, we can say that Dan is the result of Danny's action but that's a little unfair. (1/2)

(2/2) Him cheating on a test, coincidentally putting his loved one's in a position where they could be killed, is absolutely not his fault. Letting Vlad take away his ghost powers with a strange contraption might not have been the smartest move, but we are talking about a grieving CHILD here, of course he isn't going to make the best decisions. If anything Vlad's the one to blame here, and even then, it's not like he could predict what happened

---

you aren't wrong, my friend. it really isn't entirely danny's fault and the whole 'if you cheat on a test, you'll loose everything you love' moral is confused at best. i think as fandom we find it more interesting to look at danny's potential evil and moral struggle with himself. so simplifying it to be dan is a worse case scenario of danny makes the conflict less abstract.

particularly because when it comes to self blame danny isn't going to go easy on himself just because it was excusable mistakes.

i think another talking point should be how danny is the target of the time assassination more than vlad is, even though vlad is part of the evil whole. you could argue that danny is the catalyst of his friends death and vlad inventing the claw things. but vlad invented the claw things. maybe because his human side survived and acted relatively harmless from then on? or maybe it's because the observants based on the available evidence recognized danny as more of a threat. i think that fits actually, for all vlad tried to be an evil mastermind, his achievements outside of terrorizing a teenager and theft isn't particularly impressive. danny was the one who got shit done. all his fights he finished one way or another and i could see how that would bleed into dan defeating everyone.

the real question is how to we fix this. ideally we could shape this idea so it's less confused, though i do honestly find the dynamic of half danny, half vlad interesting. if for not other reason. than two half ghosts make a whole. actually that's something else to be said about dan. his self-loathing is what led him to killing his human half, another negative aspect coming from danny.

i wonder if we could frame it like fusion, from su. obviously dan isn't stable or healthy, or based on love. he's most comparable to malichite. but with less internal debate. dan took the best and worst of both of them. danny's determination, danny's fighting ability, danny's anger, danny's sarcasm, vlad's anger, vlads lack of morals, vlads schemes, vlad's control. heck, vlads desire to rule the world. i don't think we ever got that from danny.

maybe if vlad was more involved in the fight with dan it could have been used as an opportunity to compare and contrast their characters. to go we're not so different you and i. danny gets to recognize that he has that dark potential. vlad gets to be humbled by the fact that what he wants isn't good for anyone, especially himself. and to be fair, we do see some of that humbling with future vlad, but none of that character growth is given to present vlad, so, really it's just another vehicle for danny angst. it also depends on what you want to do with vlad though. he's a fascinating character and could be given redemption under the right circumstances or be a character who has the opportunity for redemption but chooses not to be redeemed every time.

that fits him and makes him both a more pathetic and despicable villain. it's hard to pity someone who ignores the opportunities to heal and grow.

as for danny, he becomes far more aware of the consequences his actions, especially his selfish and cruel ones can have. because that potential was always there. he has a history of abusing his powers. perhaps for this specific incident him abusing his powers can be something less understandable than almost cheating on a test that he couldn't study for through no fault of his own. (maybe i just have flexible morals?). maybe it could be something more character relevant, like he did something particularly vlad like, maybe he set up a prank at the nasty burger to get dash but it set off the explosion that killed his family. or maybe he did something particularly cruel and manipulative. there are better catalysts than a test. either way he recognized that he should never go that far again and strive to avoid being actively cruel.

he also has the opportunity to recognize that vlad does have a human half, even the one he's fighting everyday. he can face some conflict in it's not entirely clear what trait belongs to vlad and what trait belongs to him. he can empathize with vlad and he can recognize that situations aren't always in black in white. those who fly the highest, fall the hardest, after all.

it can be a growing experience. and while making it solely a danny goes bad and learns not to do evil kind of story. maybe we could cut vlad from the equation and just have danny face himself, full evil refection. i think exploring both vlad and danny through this fusion is far more interesting. especially because we can build on what's revealed about vlad in these episodes, in later ones. danny sees a future where vlad chills and that maybe his vlad could get their. later he see vlads past and what he lost to become who he is.

and then there's vlads turning point episodes. i don't know when motherly instinct took place but maddie fully recognizing he's a bastard and rejection him, was a turning point for his sanity, and danny helped it along. then we have danny rejecting him repeatedly, then we the clone episode, which we can all agree was a desperate move on his part, that danny once again thwarted. and we can all agree that this was the cannon turning point for his character where he stopped fighting for a family and started trying to be danny's villain. in that episode, i think danny could potentially pity vlad enough to try and reach out. he's not going to justify what vlad did and he's not going to apologize for stopping him. he went too far. he hurt danny and dani, he crossed a moral line that can't be justified even with his desperation. but if he changes...

he lost this time but if he changes, maybe they'll reach the point where they're ready to accept him.

i think the same thing could be said about his relationship with jack and maddie. if he changes, if he reaches out. if acts like less of a crazy fruitloop, his friends would be there for him. jack is still trying to be there for him, even if he's being oblivious about vlad's faults. vlads the one driving wedges into his relationships and pushing everyone away.

and that's so freaking human and understandable.it would be such a cool thing to explore with his character.

i could also see a potential arc where after valerie finds out vlad and masters are the same person she tries to get close to him, both to sus out how evil he is and to understand him as a halfa. afterall danny got her to acknowledge dani as human enough, the same would apply to vlad/plasmius, right? only he's a bad person and the more she uncovers about vlad masters the man, the more she realizes it's not the ghost half that's evil. but this is a double edged sword because, vlad is getting attached to her and encouraging her to be more evil. he's encouraging her to go darker and darker in her fight against ghosts and her fight specifically against phantom. to the point where she finally draws the line and says, i'm not doing that! boom exploring the moral ambiguity of her character and getting her to take a hard stance on her morals, because there's a line too far for her.

and boom a further breakdown of vlads character because he finally had someone outside the fentons to redeem him. she could have helped pull him out of the hole he'd been digging himself into. she wanted to help him. he got attached to her, but he and his bad decisions decided to dig himself deeper instead. so once again he's 'abandoned and betrayed'.

from that point, i think it'd be time for him to finally face jack head on. not through manipulative schemes. not through veiled threats and insults. but the full confrontation of 'i always hated you. you ruined my life. you're the reason i lost everything'. which is really just his own self loathing speaking. and jack... empathetic jack can see that vlad desperately wants help. and jack would offer it to him. jack would try to hug it out and apologize and give vlad the love and friendship vlad's been fighting to steal this whole time.

and vlad would reject it.

he'd probably lash out a jack and go into a full breakdown/world destroying attack. could finally put the stolen crown to use and try declaring himself king and embracing his megalomaniac thing and actually be a threat this time. and THAT would be our series finally. everyone teaming up to fight 'king vlad'. danny probably finding out that he's technically king because he beat pariah dark but the matter being a bit confused because he had help. val and danny trying to find the ring of rage or at least find someone who can make one. secrets are out. i imagine vlad, upon revealing himself to jack would out danny to make danny as sad and alone as him. except nope, his family still loves him and val has had the character development to come around to him. (she's still gonna punch danny for lying for so long.) the ghosts will come and help because no one wants another tyrannical kind and vlads obviously off his rocker.

ah, the could have beens

anyway, i didn't mean for this to become a full vlad character analysis and rewrite when we were supposed to be talking about dan, but hey, i'm a simple creature. i like good writing, and i have to rewrite things myself, so be it. - Hestia

#dpjl #hestiawrites #danny phantom #vlad masters

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

Text

Title: coward :: warm saki for the cold nights Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: Atsumu deals with heartbreak again and while doing so, receives an unexpected call that may just help bridge you two again.

notes:

someone said that my character for atsumu was differently written from most fanfiction. tbh the only fuckboy i see in haikyuu is Yuuji HASHHSSHAHA have u seen the piercing and how agressive he is. that def screams fuck boi

also i will be closing the taglist already after this chapter :/ if you guys don’t want to be tagged in the side stories, just message me hehe its not a problem (also i will be updating the side stories every FRIDAY’S) the drabble requests will be open for ten drabbles after the side stories hehe ily all so much. stay safe and i hope you enjoy this chapter!

previous next masterlist

Atsumu watches you walk out of his life again for the second time.

He doesn’t know what to do or why he’s here on his bed, playing with the silver ring band that he was supposed to give you six years ago after he’d been accepted in the jackals. As much as he was heartbroken by the fact that you didn’t want to get married then, he still wanted to give you a simple ring band as a promise that marriage was never the only way to get him to stick around you.

He couldn’t throw it away even after all these years.

Now that he looks at it, he’s reminded of that time you left him. The first time.

He really thought it would hurt less this time around. It was the second time after all but it still stings especially now since it was right at his face. He lets out a bitter chuckle, ‘selfish, huh?’ he thought.

Those words were odd coming from you.

In the two year span of your relationship, you were never the selfish one. In fact, he came to the late realization that he was the selfish one between you two in the relationship. Atsumu always thought physical and loud declarations of affection were the key to a healthy relationship, mundane things like sleeping next to each other or being there everyday (hence why long distance relationships were a no go for him) but you, you took it up the notch.

It may have been your first relationship but you were better than any girl he had dated. He realized then that maybe that's why you broke up with him, because you probably thought that he didn’t care to know more about you (when in actuality he was just too scared to ask because he might lose you if he did)

The phone starts to ring and as much as he wants to ignore it again, something tells him that he should answer this unknown contact.

“...Yo, this is Daiki.”

He blinks as he hears the deep voice of the basketball player, wasn’t this supposed to be his rival? How the hell did he even get his number?

“I heard Y/N pushed you away again like before, want to grab that drink?”

Atsumu doesn’t know why he agrees right after.

They ended up at a private japanese bar, apparently they had the best saki in the whole of japan and Daiki was willing to treat him despite the high price of alcohol because of what happened between you two, “You look like shit, man.” he points out as soon as he arrived, “No offense. Then again, that’s what I looked like when Y/N first rejected me.”

Atsumu sits across him at the booth and ignores the man’s statement about his looks, “Do you still like Y/N that way? Even after she rejected you a lot?” he asks, suddenly.

“After I realized how much she liked those kid’s father. I sorta gave up.” He laughed as if it was nothing, “He was hard to match, Y/N was begging me not to go to him to punch him in the face, she was in tears that night.”

“He’s a lucky bastard.” Atsumu spat bitterly, pouring more sake on his cup, “I’m guessing you know this guy?”

“Of course I do.” Daiki began, “Only recently though, Y/N never told anyone who the dad was. I had to figure that shit out on my own.”

Atsumu stares at his drink for a moment and swirls it around, he wants to know but at the same time he doesn’t. What would he even do if he knew? Would he find him and punch the asshole in the face for doing that to you? He’s starting to get Daiki, whoever this guy was, he was impossibly hard to match.

“I want to be in her life.” Atsumu confessed, “I want to replace that bastard’s place.”

Daiki’s eyes crinkle in utter amusement, just how long was this cat and mouse game going to play? What would happen if he told this blonde guy? Would you talk to him after he told Atsumu why you left? Would Daiki even be able to handle you leaving him?

Daiki’s take a deep breath as he ponders on that thought. He was willing to risk it though. He sees the genuineness in this guy’s eyes. From a man to a man, he could sense it. God, if only he had been a bit more pushy towards you back then about the whole tell-your-boyfriend thing, maybe you’d have it a bit easier now.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Y/N.” The blonde shrugs, the mere mention of your name stinged like the alcohol he was drinking, “I can’t force her. I can’t repeat the same mistakes I made before. Relationships were never her strongest suit and I feel like I forced it on her.”

“You didn’t.” Daiki proclaims, the basketball player ponders for a moment in deep thought, “The thing about Y/N is that she’s careful with whom she wants to be intimate with. The reason why she probably said yes was because she saw something in you but in the end��” Daiki paused, he’s not sure what to say next, this was a sensitive issue after all, “In the end, her fear got the better of her…”

“Sometimes I wish I could take it all away.” The setter quietly confessed, recalling the fear in your eyes back then made him sick.

In the two-year relationship you had, it had always been about him. He really had the audacity to proudly proclaim that he loved you yet it seemed more like you had loved him more.

It showed when you’d quietly just hold his hand and draw small circles on it after a loss, how you’d listen to his stories without interruptions, how you’d help him out in classes that he had a hard time at, how you’d prepare a hot meal for him every night he stayed up later to train, and how you’d silently just let him snuggle on your chest after a long day. It was those little things, things he realized later on that you’d never do to other people but he was a special case.

It was always about you taking care of him and putting him first.

It wasn’t openly affectionate like the girls he had before or after you, you had your own little way.

It was always about wanting to get a physical reaction from you, he was too blinded to the fact that it was never your type of thing.

He was the taker in the relationship, you had always been the giver.

Daiki was silent once again as he observed his devastating figure, “You really love her, don’t you?”

“I do.” he chuckled, “People tend to call me a fuck up for that but they don’t get it. When Y/N shows a little side of her, you...you can’t stop loving her, ya know? God, when she smiled and laughed at me for the first time. I knew at that moment that I wanted to hear that beautiful sound for the rest of my life.”

It felt good to get that out of his chest for once, ‘samu would call him a sappy piece of shit if he had heard that but it was the raw truth. Every word he said, every feeling he tried to express, it was all so genuine and that’s what made everything so painful.

God, the saki was getting to him. He can’t believe he told Daiki out of all people about this.

“You said you wanted to know who the father of those kids was, right?”

Atsumu stops whatever he’s drinking and feels his ears perk up at the sound of that. Daiki looks dead serious as he downs the saki straight-up, the next few words sobers the blonde setter because it’s not what he expects.

“Y/N told me the father was her first boyfriend, a boy from tokyo university.”

Atsumu feels his heart thumping fast as he makes his way to your apartment in the dead of the night, the alcohol long gone but the words of Daiki still stinging and fresh, a father? Was that why you ran away?

Because you were pregnant with his kids?

He curses underneath his breath as he finally parks his car in front of your apartment, he’s still shaken by the sudden revelation and he feels like kicking himself, how he could’ve been so stupid? He should’ve known something was odd when you suddenly disappeared and broke up on the phone.

While he was enjoying his life as a pro, you were out there fending for the kids alone.

He shakes his head.

“...I can’t tell you why Y/N ran away, it’s better if you heard the story from her.” Daiki’s words echo in his head, “I know she placed a lot on your plate these past six years but she has her reasons, I’m not saying that you should forgive her immediately. I’m just asking you to listen.”

Atsumu gets out of his car and takes out his phone, calling the number he got from Daiki. You had never exchanged numbers even after all that had happened. Now that he noticed, you were keen on distancing yourself from him. Ever since the beginning, you were so adamant to push him out of your life in the same cold way like before.

How could he not have noticed?

He curses himself in his head, for all the times he had to be slow, why now?

“Hello?” Your voice is groggy, signaling that you were asleep, “May I know who's on the line?”

“I’m downstairs.” he blurted out, not knowing what to say, he knows you recognize his voice, “Can we talk Y/N?”

“Miya-san? What are you?- It’s almost twelve-”

“One last time, Y/N.” He pleads, voice soft as he says your name, “Please?”

You hang up soon after, he doesn’t care if he has to stake out here in his car for the whole night and wait for you to come down in the morning. Right now, all that matters is you.

Only you.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to do that since he sees you going out of your apartment a few moments later in a large black coat with mismatched socks, if it weren’t for the gravity of the situation, he would’ve teased you for your unusual get-up.

“I thought I told you that I didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore.” in contrast to your soft tone, your words are harsh and if it were the old him, he’d have back down but he knows something now.

He takes in a deep breath and lets out a drawling sigh as he removes his scarf, “It’s cold tonight.” He observes, ignoring the harsh words you said as he inches closer to you to wrap his scarf around your neck.

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Aomine-san and I went out for a drink.” He recounts, tying the scarf on your neck. He sucks in a deep breath before he says the following words, “You know Y/N, you never told me his name.”

“Excuse me?” You're confused by the sudden words as you try to remove the scarf but he stops you and grabs a hold of your hands instead, clasping his fingers on yours like the old times. He loved the warmth you radiated. It always felt nice.

“The name of that bastard who left you.” He stated. He’s so close to you to the point that you could smell the saki and perfume on him, hear his ragged breathing, and hear the thumping of his heart. You try to remove yourself from his grasp but you’re trapped in his stare and tight hold, “What’s his name, Y/N?”

“I told you, it’s none-”

“Just a name, Y/N.”

Silence ensued between you two and you nervously gulp down.

So it really was him.

This was now or never.

“Just for one moment, can you stop running away from me?” he begs, as he inched closer to hug you and place his head on your shoulder, “Just stop running, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me what happened and why you ran away back then, just let me love you now and be a father to those kids.”

It's silent for a moment and he feels fear engulf him again, his confidence slowly vanishing. Were you going to push him away again?

Yet he feels you starting to tremble on his hold and something wet on his shoulders, he suddenly stands up straight to find you crying on his shoulder, “You’re so fucking stupid, did you know that?” you suddenly cried, “I literally broke up with you on the fucking phone, ran away from you-”

“Yet you never forgot me and raised those kids very well on your own.” He hummed, cutting you off as he rested his head on top of yours, still hugging you tightly. Yes, this was right, the warmth that he wanted was right here, he was finally at ease.His anxiety was slowly dwindling, “God, I should’ve tried harder to not make you feel that way before.”

“I-It’s my fault.” You stammered, “I kept doubting you and kept running from you.”

“You must’ve been scared, sweetheart.” He murmured, cutting you off as he ignores you recounting your past ‘mistakes’ --- he wouldn’t call it mistakes though, they were the seeds of doubt that he planted on you, so he was technically at fault there, he should’ve tried harder to not make you feel that way. He should’ve been more observant ---- He buries himself on your scent and draws small circles on your back to soothe your shaking figure. You’d do this to him a lot before, it was his turn now to return all the comfort and support you gave him.

Atsumu slowly lets go and sees you’re a mess in front of him from the red rims under your eyes to the wet cheeks to your non-stop shaking figure.

‘...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.’

No, it seemed like you had turned it off towards other people except your kids. Atsumu noted how strong you were towards your kids, how you tried hard to build a home for them and be the most genuine mother you could be, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to help and support you.

He slowly brings his hands up and softly cups your cheeks to wipe the stray tears, “I know that I can’t take all your problems and baggage away for a night but I’ll be here, Y/N. I’ll be here even if you’re annoyed, I’ll be here even if you throw me out because of the confusion you have with your feelings. I’ll stay. Permanently, no take-backs.”

You shakily lift your hands to grab a hold of his rough hands and squeeze it to make sure this is all real, that this wasn’t a dream.

“You’re an idiot.” You sniffle, taking in his warmth and basking on it, “I really told you to be selfish, for once. Why can’t you do that?”

“That’s ironic coming from you.” he mused, “You were always the giver in our relationship in your own way, you raised our kids in the best way possible. I could think of a million ways that you were the giver in our relationship and I was more of the receiver.” Atsumu chuckles at the irony as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair. He feels better now that everything is out of the way, that he can finally hold you with no restrictions. The little family with you that was supposed to be a fleeting moment, was now slowly becoming a reality.

“In the end, all that matters is that I love you. It’s never changed for the past six years, Y/N. I doubt it’ll change in the long run.” he confessed, leaning in to give you a brief kiss on the temple. You feel yourself start to calm down as you rested on his chest and listen to his heart beat.

You missed that sound, the sound of home.

It takes a while for you to actually settle down and sit with your kids, Atsumu reminds you that you could take your time in the introductions, even volunteering that he could help you with it but you decided against it in the end. This was your responsibility. You still had to make up for the past six years of heartbreak you gave to the poor man and your kids.

Atsumu doesn’t shy away though, he comes by after his morning training during your lunch break to have lunch with you and even volunteers to pick up the kids after class before his nightly training.

Slow pace and baby steps as he’d like to call it.

“Jiji’s acting weird.” Yuuto frowns as he picks on his fish with his chopsticks, “He’s been hanging around us too much, kaasan.”

“Yeah!” Youta echoes, “Is he going to be like Daiki-ojisan? Is he going to be our ojisan?”

You place your chopsticks down and stare at the pair in front of you. It would be hard to explain to the pair about Atsumu and his relationship with them, you almost wanted to call the man himself to help you explain but you decided against it.

This was now or never.

“Can kaasan tell you something?” You softly ask, placing your chopsticks down, the steamed fish long forgotten.

“What is it, kaasan?” Youta asks innocently, tilting his head just a bit, “Did jiji do something again? Should me and yu do something about it?”

“No,” you shake your head, “It’s...It’s about your otosan…”

Silence enveloped the table, the boys never talked about their father in front of you because they noticed how sad you’d be by the mere mention of their father yet that didn’t stop them from asking around your close circle of friends like Atsumu and Daiki. Did you find out about their interest? Were they going to be scolded?

“I...I want to introduce him to you…” You slowly began, “he...he’s come home…”

Youta and Yuuto’s eyes widen immediately, “He? He has?” Yuuto suddenly exclaimed, standing up from his chair. You could detect the excitement in his eyes, “What does he look like, kaasan? Does he have the same hair as us? Does he look like us? Did- did he get all his dreams?”

“Is he a doctor, kaasan? Or does he play sports like Daiki-ojisan and jiji?” Youta adds, wondering out loud, “Weird. We’re not that famous yet, kaasan. Is he going to be proud of us?”

You feel your heart thump and your eyes water at the question as you swallow the lump on your throat, “He’s, he’s very proud of you.” you try to blink away the tears, “In fact, your otosan was very scared because you might hate him.”

“Is that why he wasn’t able to come home?” Yuuto asks quietly, he had always been smart for his age.

You were silent for a moment and you take in a very deep breath, when they were old enough you’d tell them all about what happened, in the meantime, you’d tell them a simple explanation, “No, it was kaasan’s fault...Your otosan wasn’t able to come home because of kaasan…”

“Will...will you tell us why, kaasan?” Youta questions, you could tell that he was scared to ask that question.

“Because kaasan was scared…” You paused, trying to find the right words to explain to them, “Kaasan had you when me and your otosan was still quite young so kaasan ran away…”

“Did o-otosan not want us then?” Yuuto quivers, his lifted spirits now down, you could tell that he was trying to hold it in. You immediately had to stand up and rush to their side to comfort them, “Of course not!” You exclaimed, taking their hands and bending to their level, “It’s just, kaasan had very bad things happening around her that she had to run away.”

“Are...are the bad things gone now then, kaasan?”

You turn to Youta whose eyes were soft and spirits down too, he seemed to have grasped the situation yet at the same time, he couldn’t get it. Maybe it was a big kids type of thing? Would he understand this all when he was older?

“Almost…” You quietly replied, you knew you still had a lot of things to fix within yourself like Atsumu had said, it’s not something you can ever get rid of but it’s never bad to take a helping hand once in a while, “Your otosan is helping me and you guys are helping me too, so they’re slowly disappearing…”

“When...when will we meet him? Our otosan?”

You’re silent for a second and you nervously tell them to wait a moment as you go to your room to take out a Polaroid, one with you and Atsumu in it. It’s an old one, taken on your last anniversary. It’s one of those memorabilia's you kept of him that you could never throw away.

You come back to the table and sit across them as you place the picture in front of them, “You’ve met him already…”

Youta’s eyes widen, “Isn’t this…”

“Jiji?” Yuuto finishes, jaw slacken.

You couldn’t tell if they were happy or disappointed at all. Their faces were bare stripped of emotion, the only thing you detected was shock.

“It was never your otosan’s fault, I…” You shakily sighed, holding in the tears, “It was mine, I’m so sorry…I’m so so sorry…”

At that moment, you really didn’t know how you should face them or how you should explain it to them, you were so caught up in your fears and anxiety that you didn’t notice how soft their features became, “Will you tell us?” Youta asks.

You look them both in the eye.

“Will you tell us why where we’re older, kaasan?” Yuuto adds.

Your shaking ceased when you heard those words.

Ah yes, they were their father’s kids. Always so patient, always there to listen to you. How were you blessed with such good kids? You broke down a smile reserved just for them.

“Yes, when you’re ready and older.” You affirmed, bowing down in apology, “I hope you’ll be patient with me then.”

taglist [officially closed, if you guys want to be removed for the side stories, feel free to tell me hehe ilyasm]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ; @demursv1ogs ; @just-snog-already ; @angmarwitch ; @angmarwitch ; @simpingonothers ; @woo-youngs ; @cowward ; @chaelysian ; @sempiternal-amour ; @jungshookmeup ; @jovialnoise ; @karlitabi-rrito ; @iwaizluv ; @sugarandsoft ; @tspice283 ; @ohshirabu ; @syzygymai ; @volleybloop ; @oikaw-ugh ; @pockytokyo ; @differentballooncollection ; @keniloveshaikyuu ; @turquoiselace ; @playboygeniusphilanthropist ;

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @allysasteaparty @mikaashi @brownie0food @keijislut @ph10xy @Chocolaterumble [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

last christmas

w/c: 2.0k

warnings: a few descriptions of dizziness

summary: someone might be able to get you back into the holiday spirit

a/n: hi hi hi i’m really excited about this :,) i’ve had the idea for a while and i like where it’s going! it’s based it off of the movie last christmas and this is only part one, so if it feels a little slow that’s why AND on that note i hope you enjoy

━━━ *:･。.

“you’re late,” harry comments as the coat room door bursts open. he’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to announce it. you slip behind the counter while tying up your apron. “only ten minutes. besides, we’re never busy this early.” he presses his lips together and grabs a large cup.

that’s the face he makes whenever you say or do something stupid. you’ve learned a lot about harry in your year of working together. he’s a pretty laidback guy. funny, too. you’d consider him a friend and not just your coworker. the only time he isn’t chill is when your coffee shop has what you like to call its rush hour.

it’s in a pretty prominent area in london, and it gets packed every afternoon. people like to pop in for a muffin or some tea on their lunch break. with it being christmas time and all, the shop is way more chaotic than usual. the seasonal flavors clearly draw a crowd. you take that as a compliment since you came up with a few of them.

the point is, harry can get stressed and pretty mean. you’re afraid he’ll explode if you ask him a question sometimes. he turns super red. but, he also knows more than you do. he’s had to fix countless machines you’ve almost broken. you two make an interesting team. it’s just you and harry who work mornings.

your mouth drops open when you see the line of people squished into the shop. “oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. harry hears it and hums smugly. “rush hour came early. get out there.” you quickly take your spot at the register. a man with a fuzzy red sweater and judgy look steps up. “hi, sorry for the wait. what can i get started for you?”

the rest of your morning is exactly the same. you deal with the crabby customers, harry makes the drinks. it gets better once your other coworkers clock in for the day. orders get done faster, and you have someone to joke around with from time to time.

you and harry eventually switch because he’s bored of making hot chocolates. you’re in charge of drinks while he rings people up now. it’s not too bad at first. all you have to do is dump some mixes into water and call names. then, everyone starts shouting at you. the drinks gets harder, you keep messing up, and customers aren’t happy.

harry is about to tell you off when he sees you stumble. he rushes to your side before you hit the ground. you grab his arm with an apologetic smile. “thanks.” “is it...” you nod, not wanting him to finish his sentence.

he’s your only coworker you told about your accident. it happened last year, almost a full one to date. you got this job a few months after. harry has always been understanding of it all, and he accommodates you however he can. you’re grateful to have his support.

“i’m just a little lightheaded. i’ll be fine,” you wave him off. he clicks his tongue. “you can’t stand if i let go of you.” you’d try to prove him wrong, but you don’t feel like falling on your face in front of all these people. “go take your break, y/n,” harry says softer this time. you give in, letting him take you to the coat room.

━ ❆

it’s finally the end of the day. your shift ended fine, and now you’re walking out with harry. you’re laughing at something he said inside. you pull your coat up around your face, smiling as you say your goodbyes. harry looks off to the car you assume is his before returning it. he waits until you’re out of sight to get into the passenger seat.

“who was that?” tom asks before harry can even shut his door. “y/n. we work together,” harry replies casually and buckles his seatbelt. the car engine is the only thing holding off silence. he raises an eyebrow at his brother.

“why do you ask?” “dunno. looks like you’re friends,” tom says quietly, pulling out of the spot he parked in. “you haven’t mentioned her.” “i have. you’re never home when i do,” he deadpans. tom drums his fingers on the steering wheel as they stop at a light.

there’s that void begging to be filled again. harry gives him a small smile. “thanks for picking me up, by the way. you’re cheaper than uber.” “does that mean i’m getting paid?” tom looks over at him. “joking. anytime, bro.”

harry can tell he’s waiting to bring you up again. all he did was look at you, and he’s falling. he’s never been subtle about his crushes. harry knows the two of you would get on well, but he’s not sure if you can handle a relationship right now. this year hasn’t been easy for you. you should be focusing on your health, not his tool of a brother.

at the same time, you could use some cheering up. you haven’t sang along to one christmas song playing at the shop. tom gets so into christmas every year, so maybe some of his festivity could rub off on you. it’s possible to work on two things at once, right? you’ll be happy and healthy for the new year. that’s all harry wants for you.

he wouldn’t mind the same for tom, either.

“she’s in all day tomorrow,” harry sighs. tom scrunches his face up in the side mirror. “who is?” “y/n, div. i knew you were going to ask.” there’s no denying that one. “right. i’ll stop in for a drink.”

he smiles about it the whole way home.

━ ❆

the next day is just like the last one. harry seems more on edge than usual, but you don’t know what that’s about. he does let you stay on register today so the chances of you passing out are lower. that all changes when your next customer walks in. you recognize him immediately, even with a scarf covering half his face.

what the hell is tom holland doing in your café? he pulls his scarf down and walks up to place an order. you sort of forget how to act. “you... you’re...” you stammer, eyes wide on him. smiling, he presses a finger to his lips. all he wants is a coffee, and you’re about to get him mobbed. you raise your hands in defense and focus on the register.

“sorry. can i get you anything?” you try again, lowering your voice. he’s still smiling. “sure, thanks. i’ll try an iced peppermint mocha.” a smile takes over your own face. “cool, i suggested that one.” you punch it into the register, keeping your eyes on tom. “i’ll bet it’s good, then. i trust your judgement.” he sounds genuine but teasing at the same time.

“hey, harry.” tom waves at him while he makes something in the blender. harry unenthusiastically waves back before getting to work again. you turn to harry with your eyebrows knitted together. “you know each other?” “really well. we’re brothers,” tom replies, your eyebrows now raised to the top of your head.

“what? how come you never told me?” you almost yell at harry. he awkwardly dumps the contents of the blender into a cup. “it never came up.” “you don’t talk about me, baby bro?” tom jokes, getting his card out. you give harry one more look before turning back to him. “oh, don’t worry about it. it’s on the house,” you dismiss him.

“he’s a multimillionaire, y/n. i think he’ll be fine,” harry chimes in. “family discount,” you decide. tom chuckles and shoves his wallet back into his pocket. “you’re a funny one. can i make it up to you somehow?” his eyes lock with yours. you feel fluttery, like your heart is going to jump out of your chest. there could be a few reasons for that.

“um, can i get your autograph?” you murmur out. “easy. do you have something to write with?” he watches you scramble to get a piece of paper. you pull a pen from behind the counter and hand them both to him. a line is starting to form, but you can’t even pretend to care. there are more important things going on.

harry starts making tom’s drink while he signs the paper. he leans on the counter, his tongue poking out. he’s so sweet for doing this. your alarm goes off before you can tell him that. you quickly shut it and peek over the register to see. harry comes up to you.

“isn’t that for your medication? you should probably go take it,” he says so only you hear. you shrug a shoulder. “i set it a few minutes early. i’ll be fine.”

“here we go.” tom grins and hands you the paper, then the pen. you put it down with another smile before looking over his signature. you’re confused when you don’t see one. instead, he wrote down a bunch of numbers.

it can’t be...

“it’s my number,” tom explains, glancing over at harry for a second. he scoffs and puts the lid on his drink. “i figured you’d like it more than my terrible cursive.”

your whole body feels hot. whether it’s from putting off your meds or getting hit on by tom holland, you’re not sure. you wouldn’t mind the latter, though. it’s the safer of the two. in all seriousness, the fact that he has any sort of interest in you is pretty insane.

“wow, for real? thank you.” you look at the piece of paper in your hands, then at tom. “does this mean i can text you?” he’s practically beaming at you. “or call.” “tom,” harry calls from the pickup counter. he rolls his eyes for good measure. “i guess your drink is ready,” you laugh out. tom adjusts his scarf again.

“i guess it is. i’ll talk to you later?” you hold up the piece of paper. “that’s what this is for.” he breathes out a laugh and turns to go. you’re about to call up the next customer, but he looks back at you. you shake your head. it’s going to be impossible getting through what’s left of your shift. “enjoy.” tom nods confidently. “i will.”

━ ❆

the first thing you do once you get home is call tom. your roommate is out with friends, so you’re spread out on the couch. all the lights are off to help the headache you got. with your luck, you’ll wake up with a migraine. you’ve become too familiar with nursing those. it’s given considering everything that happened.

tom picks up on the third ring. you hold your phone to your ear and sit up. “hello?” he asks sternly. you cringe at yourself for not texting him who you are first. “hi, it’s y/n. i probably should’ve texted.” his tone softens. “no, you’re fine. i was waiting for you to call.”

“were you really?” you lay your head back on the arm of the couch. he hums proudly. “tom holland was waiting for me to call him?” “he was.” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “he really enjoyed your conversation earlier.” sighing, you look at your reflection in the tv. “i did, too. i don’t think harry could say the same.”

“he hates having me around. i’m embarrassing, apparently,” tom laughs at his brother’s behavior. you press your lips into a pout. “is that why i’ve never heard about you?” “probably,” he confirms. it seemed weird that he wouldn’t want to tell the world his brother is spider-man. then again, harry isn’t like that.

“that’s nice, though. it’s like i’m the same me before the movies,” tom lightens the mood. “not that i know you, but i feel like you are,” you agree with a small smile. he’s grinning at his phone. “speaking of not knowing me, when are you free?” he smoothly transitions to the asking you out part. you were hoping you’d get there.

“saturday. why?” “i was wondering if you’d want to go out with me.” you hold the phone away from your face and silently squeal. tom didn’t need to witness that. “that would be fun, yeah.” “anywhere special you want to go?” he asks. he’s hoping there isn’t because he already has a place in mind. you actually don’t.

“surprise me.”

i made a new taglist form, so fill it out if you want!! the link is in my bio

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland smut

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teamfreewill2pointo · 4 years ago

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Sam’s Emotional Arc 1/3

I hated the finale immediately, but I’ve spent some time with it and talked to friends who loved it. I can see now what it was about, and I’ve come to appreciate the story they were trying to tell, even if I think it didn’t land right.

I’ve been told that my meta on this has helped other people come to terms with the finale, so I thought I’d compile it in one place from across various discord channels and twitter posts. If you are struggling with the finale, I hope it helps you.

Part of this actually started with a shit post. I was making a joke about Sam being psychic since he was scared of clowns when Dean died by one. I realized that may have been deliberate. I dug into the story more and now I’m convinced it was. Then I came across some excellent meta that fit with the themes I was finding and opened up the series even more for me.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it. First, Sam’s journey.

Clowns pop up in s15 before the barn scene. In 15.01, which was written by Dabb, Sam is injured by a clown. Castiel is able to save Sam and heal his injury. The clown keeps coming after Sam, with Sam having fight scenes with the clown, while others attack the other ghosts. The clown is kicking the shit out of Sam again, and Castiel saves him once more. Sam is unable to fight off the clown on his own both times.

They run until they are able to escape outside a magical barrier. Sam turns to the clown and says, “shut up”.

This is literally Sam running from his fears. On top of that, this isn’t just any clown, but the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, from an episode also written by Dabb.

Dean: A serial killer clown. I mean, this is, like, the best/worst thing that’s ever happened to you, you know, ‘cause you love serial killers, but – but you hate clowns.

Sam gets nervous and struggles with the lighter before he’s able to get rid of the clown, for now.

I believe this is a metaphor for hunting in general: it’s both the best of Sam’s life and also the worst. The clowns symbolize his relationship with Dean.

Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie was co-written by Dabb (see the pattern?). Sam’s fear of clowns was known since season 2. In season 7, Dabb explored where this fear came from.

On the surface, Sam’s fear is just because he found them creepy, but the episode explains that they actually come from Sam’s fear of being left behind by Dean.

youtube

This episode comes directly after an episode where Sam worried that Dean would get himself killed

Sam: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... It almost got you killed. Now, I don't care how you deal. I really, really don't. But just don't – don't get killed. Dean: I'll do what I can. Sam: Well, what's that supposed to mean? Dean: It means I'll do what I can. All right? You can shut up about it.

Sam is dealing with Hallucifer at this moment, but Hallucifer doesn’t really scare him. Losing Dean does.

Sam has a conversation with an employee about greatest fears.

youtube

Recognize the actress? She came back for s15 in 15.06. I don’t believe this was a coincidence. 15.06 featured Castiel helping a parent find their lost child in a season that features Castiel worried about losing Jack. Through his experience with her, Castiel confronts his fears and doubts and then returns to join in the fight against God. [I’ll touch on Castiel’s journey more in his chapter]

Sam’s greatest fear is losing Dean. There’s a lot in the series about how Sam felt lonely and abandoned for much of his childhood. A whole episode, Just My Imagination, centers around this. Sam hated when Dean went off on hunts without him.

source In The Chitters, Sam tells Dean how his fear of losing his family paralyzed him as child. It’s a story where an older brother dies and the younger brother never recovers from it until he’s able to lay him to rest (sound familiar???)

Sam: You know, whenever you and Dad used to leave me to go hunting, and I-and I wouldn’t hear from y’all for a while, I, um, I was always sure that some vamp or rugaru, or take your pick, I always figured one of them finally got ya. I tried to think what to do, you know, the next step to take. I was just lost. Dean: We came back, though, every time.

You might naturally think, “Wait a minute! Sam left Dean multiple times!” Honestly, this was something I had a huge issue with when watching through the show the first time. I didn’t understand Sam and hated him leaving Dean in s8. I was completely on Dean’s side at first. But, on multiple rewatches and talking to others, I’ve realized that when Sam left Dean, he was running from his fear. In this TV Guide interview, Jared perfectly sums up why Sam left in season 1; he couldn’t stand to see his family die. Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon along with a comic that explains why Sam left in detail. While the comic isn’t official canon, it shows Dabb’s thought process. In it, Sam sees his family as running towards a horrible end and can’t handle dealing with that.

Dean: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it? Sam: No. Not normal. Safe.

There are many more points in the series where we learn about Sam’s fear of Dean dying. This would be 3948573945 pages long if I wrote them all out, so I’m going to focus on the key moments that loop back to this ending, but there’s so much more there.

If you are struggling with this and need more, please let me know and I can do a deeper dive into that subject. We first see Sam’s inability to let Dean go in season 1 when Sam refuses to let Dean die in Faith.

Dean: You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you? Sam: I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going.

Sam’s whole arc in s3 is him being unable to handle Dean dying. He wants to save Dean, but Dean won’t let himself be saved. This was what Gabriel was trying to teach him in Mystery Spot.

Trickster: This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.

This is how Ruby gets under Sam’s skin and what gets him to start working with her. Everything Sam did was to save Dean. In s4, Sam’s arc is about him sacrificing himself in order to save Dean. He’s gutted from being unable to save Dean. In 4.12, Sam decides to drink demon blood in order to save Dean

Dean: [says that they will die early] Sam: Maybe we'll be different, Dean. Dean: What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life. Sam: What if we could win?Dean: "Win"?Sam: If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it.

When Sam breaks out of the panic room, he’s suicidal. He’s determined to save Dean with his life as the cost he’s willing to pay. He didn’t think he would survive killing Lilith. He was committing suicide in that moment. The reason why Sam is so willing to sacrifice himself in s5 is because he has low self esteem. He blames himself for everything that goes wrong. In Sam, Interrupted 5.11, also by Dabb, Sam has a breakdown under the weight of his guilt. He hates himself and he feels his rage is out of control. In season 6, we see soulless Sam and, unlike souled Sam, he has no rage. Yes, he’ll kill when necessary, but he’s not angry. It was Sam’s fear driving his rage. He felt out of control of his life and let it lead him down a dark path. In season 7, he sees Dean heading down a dark path and he feels helpless to stop it. He worries about dragging Dean down and tells Dean to let him go. But, at the same time, he’s developing coping techniques. He’s starting to face his fears.

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And then Dean disappears and Sam completely falls apart. Sam didn’t have a healthy relationship with Amelia. They were two broken people clinging to each other. Sam and Dean struggle to reconnect after their time apart. There’s a lot of text addressing the horror of a partner dying and people trying to escape from it.

Mrs Holmes: He could see the end of my days were at hand, and... He had lived centuries all alone, but I don't think he could bear the thought of life without me. That's why he drove off that bridge. You must think I'm a monster.

In Hunteri Heroica written by GUESS WHO!?!? Sam finally acknowledges that he was living in a dream world with Amelia. He was running from his past. We see a flash back with Sam pressing on his scar, which he did to help himself distinguish fantasy from reality.

The episode is about a man refusing to engage in reality and harming those around him. Sam has a big confrontation with him

Sam: Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend... all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. [CASTIEL appears to be taking Sam’s words to heart.] It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!

Likewise, when Sam was with Jessica, he wasn’t honest about himself. He was hiding from his family and his past. Running to avoid pain. Sam is avoidant in general. Not just in his relationship with Dean. When he talks with Rowena in 13.12 Various & Sundry Villains about his fears of Lucifer, he admits that he could talk about it with Dean, but he can’t bring himself to.

Sam: I’ve seen it too. What he really looks like behind – behind whatever vessel. It… Yeah, still keeps me up at night. Rowena: How do you deal with it? Sam: I guess I don’t deal with it. Not really. I mean, I pushed it down and, um, the world kept almost ending, so I keep pushing it down, and I don’t know. [stammering] I really don’t talk about it, not even with Dean. I mean, I could. You know, he’d listen, but… That’s not something I really know how to share.

In 15.20, Sam’s past is front and center. Literally. I know a lot of people found the Winchester family portrait odd and upsetting, but it symbolizes something I’ll get to in a bit. Instead of trying to avoid his grief, Sam has moments where he lets it wash over him. He goes and sits in the car. He’s no longer avoidant. He’s no longer running away. He’s letting his grief move through him. He’s literally sitting with it.

Soulless Puppy pointed out that the characters emotional arcs is similar to DBT. Please look through their awesome meta here.

Personally, I see them as similar to the therapy I do called ACT. Both are forms of therapy where instead of fighting against them, you accept painful emotions and allow yourself to feel them. If you don’t do that work, then you can’t stop feeling them and your fears/ghosts will always haunt you. In Swan Song, Chuck tells us that “Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.” In 15.20, Sam initially didn’t want to let Dean go. He’s been refusing to do this since season 1. When he’s separated from Dean he lives a fake life or destroys himself/the world trying to get Dean back. There’s a moment in 15.20 where Sam looks at Dean’s guns. He wants to commit suicide, but he makes the choice to live. For the time in Sam’s life, he let Dean go and lived with his pain. He no longer ran from it. After Swan Song, Dean was unable to let Sam go. He wanted him back. After Carry On, Sam is able to do what Dean couldn’t do. He lives a life outside of Dean. What’s more, Sam has reconciled himself with his past and his family. It’s clumsy and I wish it were better shown, but having the family portrait and their parents in heaven isn’t meant to excuse the way Sam and Dean were raised. In order to move past the trauma of his relationship with his parents, Sam fully integrates them into his life. In Lebanon, Sam was able to confront and forgive his father. In doing so, he can also forgive himself. Mary asks for forgiveness too, and he grants it to her. He doesn’t forget what happened, but he’s able to move forward and leave the intergenerational cycle of violence. He’s able to raise his son, Dean, the way his brother should have been raised.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it.

I can see why people see Sam’s life after Dean as unhappy. I hated it so much because I saw it as horrible and sad the first time through. I had to sit with myself and my emotions first. I think it’s because we’ve been told by society that we have to get rid of our grief in order to be happy. The finale was showing us that it’s possible to do the opposite. [Personally I think it would’ve been better had they showed more overtly happy memories, but many of my friends saw this straight away] When I began therapy, one of the first things I learned was that there aren’t “negative” emotions. When working with our kids, we call them Big emotions. In DBT/ACT, all emotions are treated as normal and natural. Grief, anger, sadness, etc, these are all normal parts of the human existence. We don’t need to run from them in order to have happiness. We can live with them. As interstitial said in our chats, “you can't change the past, you can only change your relationship to it. To accept that your past contained both love and heartache, to miss it, but also know you can do better; that's actual recovery, as good as it gets.” As Soulless-Puppy explained to me, Sam lived in duality. Dean was dead, but Sam lived. Sam was happy, but he grieved. Dean was with him in the watch and the car and his son, but Dean also waited for him in heaven. I hated the finale the first time I saw it, then next watched it with my boyfriend who loved it. As we were watching together and discussing it, I realized that Dean’s death scene wasn’t just about him, but about the show itself.

Dean promising Sam that he will be with Sam in Sam’s heart is also the show promising us that they will never leave it. That’s why Alex kept posting “The end has no end.” Just as Sam carried Dean with him in his heart, we will carry the show with us. I hope this helps. It’s a terrible thing to feel upset about an ending and thinking of the show this way, recognizing these patterns, is bringing me peace. I still have issues with how it was written, but now that I see what they were doing, I wish all the more that they had the chance to do it right. Please share your thoughts and experiences. I love hearing different opinions. Next up, Dean. Then Castiel.

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gallavictorious · 4 years ago

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Once again the fandom coming together to daydream about Mickey helping Ian out and seeing him back on track to become an emt again but why is that on Mickey? Why does he always have to do things to make Ian happy when Ian's usually nothing but annoyed by Mickey and does nothing to make Mickey happy? Truly shows which character y'all care about more.

This got absurdly long, because I am who I am and did take the opportunity to go off on a tangent about valid conclusions and what not, so I put it under a cut. Read at your own risk! Oh, and I also do address the actual question about whether or not Ian's career is on Mickey, and whether or not Ian never does anything to make Mickey happy. ;)

For the sake of clarity, I got this ask in response to this post.

And I gotta say, nonnie, getting this ask perplexed me to the point of running off to Trusted Fandom Friends, demanding to know how my undying love and loyalty for Mickey could ever be doubted. Had to laugh at myself a little, actually, and the strenght of my befuddlement. It reminded me of the time I went on a trip with people from the 501st (cosplayers dedicated to the bad guys in Star Wars) and Rebel Legion (cosplayers dedicated to the good guys in Star Wars) and a lot of people assumed I was a Rebel sympathizer simply because I had friends in that group and those were the people who had invited me. Excuse me, I didn't yell, I have like 30 Darth Vaders in my damned home, how dare you question my allegiance? I was so used to always being known as a diehard Vaderkin fangirl that the mer fact of strangers failing to recognize me as such genuinely fucked a little with my sense of identity. My love of Mickey isn't anywhere near as deeply ingrained into my sense of self, since he's only been an occasional presence in my life since 2016 while Darth Vader's been my main man since 1994, but it was still a little jarring to suddenly find myself (mis)identified as an Ian stan.

Being a fangirl is strange.

And I want to make it clear that I do love Ian. He's a fascinating character and, to me, he's a character that's often much harder to understand than Mickey. He rewards careful analysis and discussion, though, so I guess I tend to talk a lot about him? I don't need to spend as much time considering Mickey's feelings and motivations because they are (almost) always pretty obvious; I don't need to tease them out. But at the end of the day, Mickey is my favourite. (Though I'll always love Ian and Mickey together more than I love either of them on their own. It's like fresh cilantro and mint – each perfectly lovely in their own right, but the combination of them creates a flavour that's just out of this world.)

Now, you might argue that you don't follow me and so have no idea who I am and what I like to post about, and that going only by that single post (which, in fairness, was tagged with 'i just want ian to be happy okay?') I give off the general impression of an Ian stan. And that's fair enough; I'm an obscure blog in a decently big fandom and you're not required to keep track of anyone. However, if you want to throw around passive aggressive accusations of caring more about one character than the other, I will ask you to do your research first. Reacting to one single piece of data without considering the context is a common but highly unfortunate practice that needlessly complicates meaningful conversations, and we'd all do well to abstain from it.

Oh, you don't want to spend a lot of time and energy on consdering every single thing a specific Tumblr blog has ever said on a specific topic just so you can draw a valid conclusion about their stance? That's perfectly understandable, nonnie, and easily sorted: refrain from making unsubstantiated claims about what other people think or don't think and you won't have to. Ask them, if you wonder. If you see a tendency in fandom to put the responsibility for Ian's wellbeing and career or Mickey's shoulders and want to discuss that, that's totally cool! I am game (and will address that question below)! But it's very possible to do that without somewhat rudely ascribing perferences and opinions to other people, and you'll get better answers for it (for instance, you won't have to wade through me rambling on about valid conclusions and my memories from other fandoms... ).

It seems to me, though, that this touches upon a long-held frustration of yours. If I interpret your ask correctly, you think the show gives us an Ian who is mostly annoyed with Mickey and doesn't do anything to make him happy, and you think that the fandom responds to this by relegating Mickey to the role of Ian's caretaker, whose sole purpose is to serve Ian's needs without any regard for what might Mickey himself happy. Have I got that right?

If so, it should be noted that I don't agree with either of these takes: I don't think that's the Ian the show gives us (a point I will return to below), and I don't think that fandom at large only cares about Ian's happiness, and I particularly don't think that my post can be used a evidence of the latter.

For instance, when you sent me this ask the post in question had all of 40 notes. As I write this, it has just over 70. ”The fandom coming together” seems to be slightly overstating the case, don't you think? There are certainly fans who care more about Ian and only see Mickey as valuable as long as he contributes to Ian's happiness, just as there are fans who care more about Mickey and only see Ian as valuable as long as he contributes to Mickey's happiness - but this single post with less than a hundred notes does not support that either of these stances would be predominant within the fandom. (And, while on the topic, I'd like to state that I don't actually see a problem with either of those stances; these are fictional characters that exists for our entertainment and we don't have any moral obligations to treat them equally and fairly. Don't ruin other fans' fun by dumping on either of them in the character or shipping tags or on character and shipping posts and this is not a problem. It might be a somewhat unpopular opinion, but I don't think you have to love or even like all characters in a ship to ship it: I refuse to drink plain tea because it's nasty but put a splash of milk in it and its my favourite thing ever. You can love a combination without loving all the seperate pieces on their own. And yeah, I do revert to food metaphors a lot. I like food.)

Secondly, whether or not the post can be said to represent the feeling of the fandom at large (it cannot), I think that reading a post specifically about ”Mickey helping Ian out and seeing him back on track to become an emt again” and then extrapolating from that that Mickey ”always have to do things to make Ian happy” is a little wild. The very first thing I wrote for this fandom was a vision of Ian offering Mickey comfort, goddammit. (Ian giving Mickey a hug is so high on my list of desires, you can't even imagine)

As for your actual question (and, ah, imagine how much shorter this post would be if you had just left it at that) – of course that's not on Mickey. That much, incidentally, I've actually explicitly stated in another post. Ian might have his issues but he's still an adult and responsible for himself. That being said, I don't see it as particularly strange that someone would go out of their way to help their partner when they see them struggling? If I realize that someone I care about is unhappy and there's a way for me to help, I would want to help because I love them and want them to be happy, even if it's – ethically speaking – not my responsibility to do so. Pretty sure Mickey, who is action-oriented and so very protective of the people he loves, feels the same way.

Of course, if it's a one-sided thing – if one partner is always the one to do stuff for the other and never receives any support in return – that's not a healthy relationship, and I assume that this is what you're seeing in the show and taking exception to?

Only... I can't help but wonder who this Ian is, this uncaring, selfish version you see – because I don't quite get how it can be the Ian who emptied his bank account for Mickey, or the Ian who was ready to throw his parole and stay in prison for Mickey even when they were in the middle of a fight specifically because Mickey said it would make him happy, or the one who kept trying to talk to Mickey and win him back after Mickey punched him in the face, accidentally broke his leg, and took off with a new lover (I'm not taking sides in this one, btw – I have a lot of sympathy and understanding for both of them and their actions throughout this whole sorry affair), or the Ian who immediately wanted to marry Mickey protect him from the consequences of a murder Ian thought he had actually comitted, or the Ian who went along with arranging a real wedding even though he initially didn't at all understand why this was important to Mickey and who had someone come serenade him once he did, or the Ian who chose At last for Mickey to walk up to the aisle to, or the Ian who keeps trying to reach out to Mickey and to touch him and discuss their issues in a mature way even when he's (justifiably) upset about Mickey using all their wedding money without telling Ian. (Though Ian deciding for both of them that they're saving the money isn't great either.)

I mean, Ian's absolutely done shitty things, as has Mickey. They're human, and they're the products of a chaotic and often hostile enviroment. They do mess up a lot; they've hurt each other rather badly over the years. Depending on your perspective and preferences, you may think one or the other have behaved worse, but as far as I can see, the claim that Ian never does anything to make Mickey happy is simply not supported.

Ian has seemed unusually annoyed with Mickey this season, I'll give you that, but while that's not always the most fun thing to watch and I strongly sympathize with the wish to just see Ian look at Mickey with that fond look again, I don't find him being frustrated right now all that weird, given the circumstances. I'd argue it has less to do with Mickey and more to do with a general frustration over thwarted ambitions and not being able to hold on even to a really shitty job, though Mickey's attitude doesn’t exactly help (which is not to say that I think that Ian's the one in the right here, becasue Ian's way of handling things hasn't always been been stellar either). However, I do have faith in them sorting this out – because even though they fight and bicker and get annoyed with each other, there's never any indication that they're not both committed to making this marriage thing work. They certainly stumble, they misunderstand each other and lash out, but they calm down and go to sleep in the same bed and compromise and keep trying. Every day, they – both of them – choose each other.

I'd like to finish this off by noting, even though it's not entirely relevant to my argument, that that the number one thing that does make Mickey happy is being together with Ian, and even when Ian is pissed at Mickey and withholding sex (which was very ill-advised but says a lot of interesting things about his character, I think!) no one's sleeping on the couch, there are no nights away from the house and each other, and even in the middle of an argument they sit and stand next to each other. I think that's pretty telling of Ian's dedication, especially given his propensity for running away from his problems.

Phew. Okay, nonnie – though we don't agree and I doubt you'll find this answer satisfactory, I hope you see that I have done my best to understand your point of view and treat your arguments fairly and give you a thoughtful response. If you'd like to get back to me and elaborate on your stance, I'd ask that you show me the same courtesy. :)

#asks #i don't even know what to tag this i spent five hours writing it and my brain is mush #meta #i guess?

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twisted-tales-of-all · 4 years ago

Text

Persistence and Resilience

Lee Junho (2PM) x Reader

Anon Request: Hii! I know this might seem a little old, but can I request a scenario for 2PM’s Junho? Can I request an arranged marriage angst-fluff scenario where he already had an evil girlfriend and he’s cold to you somehow when you are so kind to him, then when you can’t take it any longer, you left and he started to miss you and realize that his girlfriend is cheating on him,,, fluff ending hehehe! I’m sorry if this is too hard though 😅

Summary: You accepted your life as the second child to a father with a big corporation a long time ago. You knew the arranged marriage would happen one day, but you expected a partner who also accepted their fate. However, the suitor your parents choose for you acts immature and unreasonable. Can this even work?

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Arranged Marriage AU. Contains angst, slight (implied but not described) smut, and a fluff ending. Strong language once or twice, slight violence

A/N: It isn’t exactly what was requested, but I started going based on the request and let my creative mind lead me where it did. I hope you still like it!

You knew the day would come, but you never expected it to be this chaotic. As soon as you reached a certain age, your parents started introducing you to sons of other big industry owners as your possible suitors. They only needed you as a pawn in the grand company scheme. Ultimately, neither you nor your brother could avoid it. Eventually, he'd inherit and run the company despite his dream of managing a small coffee shop, and you'd soon be forced to marry someone that could help business.

You met him twice before the marriage was announced, and he never paid you any mind. He never expected anything to happen. Plus, he has a secret model girlfriend, so why worry about his parents forcing him on dates? However, the announcement sends him into a rampage, especially since he hears the news from media outlets rather than from his parents.

You and your parents meet with his parents to discuss the wedding date and other important details when Lee Junho bursts in, fuming about the arrangement while dragging his clearly-bothered girlfriend behind him. Calmly, his father stands up, turns to Junho, and slaps him hard across the face.

"You will marry her. I don't care about your wants. The company comes first, and, as the oldest, it's about time you recognize that. You don't have to love each other; you only need to tolerate one another for the sake of our companies." Sitting back down, he turns to you, "I apologize for my son's attitude. Please, forgive him. He'll come around, but he's far too used to getting everything he wants."

"No worries, Mr. Lee. I understand his feelings and can look past them for the sake of this arrangement." You smile back, watching as your fiance shoots his father a disgusted look before storming out with his girlfriend.

"Thank you, Y/N." Mrs. Lee adds, "Your daughter is very well-mannered. She will be a welcome change to my son's wild lifestyle. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N."

The dinner continues as boring as you expect. The next few months don't improve much either. You rarely see the man chosen as your husband, and his attitude never really improves. You try your best to be friendly and kind to him whenever you two interact, but he always blows you off.

The wedding day approaches, and, for once, Junho acts nice to you. Of course, you recognize that it's an act for the families and media, but it's the first time he hasn't treated you like dirt, so you enjoy the day as best you can. There isn't a honeymoon. Instead, your parents bring you and Junho together to explain that you'll be moving into his house by the end of the week to show the media that the relationship works well. They want people to believe the motivation for marriage is more than a simple merger.

Without a doubt, this infuriates your now-husband. He rarely meets his girlfriend to eliminate any potential gossip, and now he has to share his home with the one person he blames his suffering on. You, on the other hand, try to be optimistic and see this as an opportunity to become friends, regardless of how difficult the task may be. Slowly, you move your belongings into his house. He gives you a personal wing of the house, hoping to limit interactions between the two of you.

Over the course of the month, you learn Junho's typical schedule. Exercise in the early morning, followed by breakfast and a shower. Then, he stays in his office room most days until dinner, unless there's a company meeting he's forced to attend. After dinner on Thursdays and Saturdays, he leaves for hours, and you can only assume by the state of his clothes and hair upon return that he meets with his girlfriend on those nights. When you understand his schedule enough, you begin eating or cooking at the times he usually does, in hopes to grow closer. He accepts your presence but hardly talks to you. Any conversations you start with him fall flat quickly. Tonight, you decide to make Junho dinner.

He thanks you and sits down to eat. As you sit down across from him, you ask him about his girlfriend. This time, he finally decides to talk with you.

"She wants to go on a vacation soon, but I don't know how to go with her when I still have to think of my father's stupid company."

"Do you want help? We can pretend to go together. I'll bring my friend so it looks like a double date situation. Only if you want, though. I don't want to force you if it'll be a pain dragging me along."

He stares at you for a moment, wondering why you still try being nice when he's been nothing but mean to you, "Are you sure you'd want to do that? You won't feel weird about the situation?"

"Why would I? We don't have feelings for each other. This marriage is for our parents, but that shouldn't stop us from living how we want. If we help each other, it shouldn't be too hard to fake a healthy marriage."

Suddenly, Junho smiles brightly. You've never seen him smile so genuinely, so it shocks you enough to get your heart racing. As he thanks you and explains his plans, your mind wanders, thinking about how handsome he is when he's happy. When he asks whether you'd be okay with his plans, you snap back to reality and blindly accept his proposal.

As it turns out, the plan included a trip to an island your parents own. They agree without issue, hoping you and your husband can bond. The only setback to the trip is that the two rooms are separated by gender, meaning you'd be sleeping in the same room as his girlfriend while Junho rooms with your friend. Junho's strange optimism insists that this will give him an easy excuse to sneak into his girlfriend's room, as he can claim he wants to see you.

At first, you didn't see the issue with his plan. However, the asshole returns as he decides to make out with and even have sex with his girlfriend despite you being stuck there with them as a cover for him. After a few days, you give up. Your kindness can only extend so far, so you storm out as the lovebirds undress each other without a care in the world.

You stroll along the beach, meeting up with Changmin, the friend you brought along for company. You sit on the beach and talk. He tells you all about his fiancee and asks how you feel about your forced marriage. Changmin has been your close friend for over a decade, so he could see your frustration. He tells you to talk to Junho about his behavior. With a sigh, you admit that he's right, and you head back to your room, fully expecting him to still be there.

When you arrive, you hear moans through the door and decide not to enter until they're finished. Turning around to head back to the beach, you accidentally bump into someone directly behind you. Trying to make eye contact to apologize, you see Junho, who looks past you and at the door. Your eyes grow wide as he passes you, yanking the key from your hand and storming into the room. You rush after him in case you need to stop a fight, even though you're scared of that possibility.

You both see Junho's girlfriend and some random younger boy pushing away from each other. She hides her naked body under the covers while he quickly stumbles into his clothes on the way out. You expect Junho to scream at his girlfriend or punch the boy, but he just points to the door and tells her to leave and never talk to him again. She tries to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but Junho doesn't let it happen.

Raising his volume and strengthening his glare, he demands, "Get the FUCK out of my life!"

She wraps herself in the complimentary robe, grabs her bags, and rushes out the open door. Silence falls over the room. The scent of sex lingers and haunts him. He drops his arm and falls to his knees as he stares at the floor and tries to comprehend what happened.

You help him up from the floor and onto the bed. At that point, the man who appeared to lack a heart breaks down crying. You pat his back, so he leans his head on your shoulder. Ever since you've met him, you've never seen him drop his guard and be vulnerable. You stay with him until he cries out all his tears. When he composes himself, he apologizes, but you insist that it's perfectly fine.

After a short silence, he looks at you and asks, "Can I sleep next to you tonight? I think I need the comfort of another person."

"How about we sleep in your room then? The smell in here doesn't seem to be going away any time soon."

He agrees with a nod, so you both head to the next room, and you explain the situation to Changmin. He apologizes to Junho and asks if either of you need anything. When you both insist that you're fine, he retreats to his bed and puts his attention to his laptop. You and your husband get in the other bed together. He lays under the blankets and moves close to you for comfort. Not quite ready to sleep, you sit in the bed with his head in your lap as you scroll through your phone.

When your body finally relaxes, you put your phone on the bedside table and lay down. As you shift your body, you disturb Junho's sleeping form. He manages to find a new comfortable position with his head close to yours. In his sleep, his arm moves across your body, moving you closer to each other. You try to focus your mind on anything other than his closeness, and you eventually join him in sleep.

You wake up to movement and let out a groan as you stretch and open your eyes. Sitting on the bed, fully naked, is your husband. You quickly avert your eyes, making Changmin laugh at your shyness.

"Haven't seen your husband naked yet? Jeez, what will you do when your parents start bugging about having kids?"

You throw a pillow at him for even suggesting the idea, even though you understand that it will happen one day. Junho, however, decides to further provoke you by joining forces with your friend. He moves to you and hovers above you with a smirk.

"Should we make this fair? I haven't seen you naked either."

"I didn't look, so it's still fair right now." You speak quickly, hoping to escape the situation as soon as possible.

The boys just laugh at your reaction as Junho rolls off you and pulls on his underwear. When he tells you that it's safe to look, you finally begin to relax. You still avoid looking in his direction, but you're glad to know that he can still joke around despite the scene he witnessed the day before.

For the last day in your vacation, the three of you decide to roam around and have a good day despite the previous issues with the trip. At the end of the night, you head back to your room and begin to pack for the 3 AM flight back home. When Junho finishes packing, he heads over and asks whether you need any help. Since you're nearly finished, you thank him but decline his offer.

He sits down on the empty bed and looks at the wall before opening up, "Y/N, I'm sorry for how I treated you because of my girlfriend. I never expected her to be that person, but seeing her cheating on me made everything click into place. But, also, thank you so much for being so kind to me despite my terrible attitude. If you'll forgive me, I guarantee you that I'll be a lot less rude and a lot more open with you."

"Hey. Calm down with that heartfelt stuff. You're forgiven, Junho. I'd still like to have a working marriage with you for the sake of our families, so this is a good step forward." You place a hand on his shoulder and send him a smile as he turns to face you.

When he sends a warm smile back, you believe that good things will finally come after your persistent kindness and resilience with your husband.

#kpop #kpop boys #kpop boy scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop writing #kpop requests #2pm #2pm scenarios #2pm imagines #2pm writing #lee junho #2pm junho #lee junho angst #kpop angst #2pm angst

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Text

bad day

MJ has a bad day dealing with her snotty coworker, who wants MJ’s promotion and her boyfriend.

4.8k

warnings: potentially triggering BD thoughts/language; smut; obnoxious amount of fluff cuz idk about you but I need some softness

“Hi sweetheart,” Grayson says with a smile as MJ stalks into the living room with a scowl. She plops next to him on the couch and hurls her heels off with a flourished kick, glaring at where they land a few feet away on the shaggy rug. His grin falls when he notices her pinched face and lack of returned greeting. “Rough day?”

MJ nods and curls into his side, silently pleading for him to wrap her in his arms. Grayson obliges immediately and pulls her into his lap, tucking her as close to his chest as he can. When MJ asks for physical affection as comfort, which isn’t as often as you might think considering that’s one of the best ways she shows love, Grayson knows she really needs it.

“’S the matter, Peach?” he asks gently with a kiss to her forehead. He smooths her long hair down and scratches his nails lightly on her thigh as she snakes her arms around his waist. “Chanel again?”

Chanel Marten is MJ’s coworker and a petty, idiotic thorn in her side; every bit the LA bimbo with the stereotypical Barbie looks and meanness to match. When she isn’t calling MJ fat behind her back or constantly trying to undercut her to their bosses in light of an upcoming promotion they’re both up for, she’s actively hinting at how much she disapproves of MJ and Grayson together. She’s been a fan of the twins for years, and doesn’t make it a secret that she is very much attracted to Grayson, which MJ finds partly amusing and wholly fucking annoying.

“God, how do you let him go to those influencer parties alone?” Was what she asked earlier today at their office. She was scrolling through the series of photos on Grayson’s latest Instagram post from the night before, looking his sexiest in that half-open linen button-down and his Louis pants. “I wouldn't let him out of my sight in public if I were you.”

MJ glanced over at her blonde coworker and couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to go through her man’s Instagram right in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge it, answering her question instead. “I trust him. And he’s not alone, he’s always with Ethan.”

Chanel twirled her hair and sighed, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and she probably could have gone home already, but had instead chosen to wheel her desk chair into MJ’s office across the hall from her own. For what, exactly, MJ didn’t know; they were far from friends, barely amicable coworkers at best. Antagonizing MJ was probably the start of a good weekend for Chanel.

Her suspicions were answered a moment later with Chanel’s next choice of words, her irritating vocal fry even more prominent than usual. “Yeah, but all of those IG models in one room, and you guys aren’t, like, super public. What if he wants a taste of what he doesn’t have?”

MJ squeezed her mouse in a death grip, but didn’t divert her gaze from her screen. “What are you implying, Chanel?” she asked irritatedly, her patience running at the thickness of a piece of paper for the bitch by then. She had already thrown MJ under the bus in their morning meeting with their bosses for something MJ’s intern had screwed up in their presentation, and MJ had caught her making snide comments in the break room about her ‘birthing hips’ and ‘thunder thighs’ to Annie the Asshole from Accounting. Annie was another coworker who, upon learning that MJ wouldn't invite Grayson along to after-work drinks simply so she could meet him, had immediately put MJ in her hypothetical burn book.

Right then, she finally had a moment to go back into their projections and fix what her intern Alessia had mistyped in the final presentation copy, and Chanel was only serving as both a reminder of her actions in the meeting and a distraction from her getting her work done.

MJ wanted nothing more than to be at home with Grayson by then, a tension headache creeping steadily up the back of her neck and into her temples. She had been the lead on this client presentation, so staying at the office until nine or ten at night hadn’t been an unusual occurrence lately; she was only glad by then that this was the end of a rough few weeks of work as soon as she was done fixing Alessia’s errors.

Chanel smirked but hid it as a simper of sympathy, clearly thrilled she was visibly getting under MJ’s skin. “I’m just saying, MJ, you’re super pretty, but, like, you don’t work out that much, right?I never see you in the gym here, or hear you mention going to one after work. I mean, Grayson being surrounded by girls who do fitness for a living would have to be like being in a candy store for him. We both know how much he cares about living a healthy lifestyle.”

She double-tapped the post, her too-long nails that were clearly trying to emulate Kylie Jenner’s or the like clicking obnoxiously against the screen, and sat back in her office chair. “I think if I were you, I’d quit this place and concentrate on building a following. Maybe try the fitness influencer route, yourself. It��s a pretty good trade-off, if you think about it; Grayson gives you clout, and you get snatched for him. And, you’d be able to keep a close eye on him. Boys will be boys, after all.”

That did it. Chanel Marten didn’t know her life, and she sure as hell didn’t know Grayson’s character. MJ finally took her attention off her iMac to give Chanel a glare that rivaled Lily’s ‘you’re dead to me’ look in How I Met Your Mother. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to hold herself back from acting on the overwhelming urge to punch Chanel’s newly-doctored nose.

Upon realizing MJ was done fucking around, Chanel’s smug smile slowly faded, until all pretenses were dropped, and the two women just stared at one another. No more fronts — not cordial coworkers anymore, but rival ones.

MJ knew what this girl was doing. Trying to make her insecure in her relationship with Grayson, and question her position in the firm so she wouldn’t go for the promotion. Chanel was as dumb as she looked if she thought either of these would work, but MJ had had enough of both her intelligence and her appearance being so blatantly insulted. She swiveled back to her computer and started doing the last couple of tweaks to the report that she had started before Chanel so rudely barged in.

“You know, next time you wanna pull a fast one and make me take the fall for an intern error, I’ll be happy to let Lacey know you’ve made us all rush this presentation by turning your last three sections of analytics in late, which is why I didn’t have time to review Alessia’s portion since I had to work your shit in last minute. I have time stamps on my email to prove it. Not to mention, the screen recordings of Snapchat stories of you at Saddle Ranch that someone showed me from the same nights you sent them. Should be pretty beneficial for my interview for Executive VP next month, don’t you think?”

MJ smiled and emailed the altered report back to her boss, Lacey, and made sure her computer was completely locked down before reaching into a cabinet for her purse and lunchbox. She stood and looked down at Chanel, who had her arms crossed tightly and her overfilled lips pursed so they were unusually pale and thin. MJ was going to leave it at that, but she was very much done being the bigger person, and a brief moment of pettiness came over her.

“And I hope you do find a man as good as Gray one day; maybe having someone as kind and real as him will make you less of a cold-hearted bitch.” MJ dug her keys out of her purse, motioning with her eyes from Chanel to the open door. “Now, please get out of my office. I’m ready to go home to my amazing, faithful, sexy boyfriend.”

Chanel scoffed and rolled her eyes but did as she was told, rolling back to her desk and giving MJ the cold shoulder as she breezed past her office.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her,” MJ whines into Grayson’s neck after relaying all of this to him. Her bravado and smugness towards Chanel had dropped almost as soon as she reached her car in the parking garage of her downtown office building. Her insecurities had crept into her brain to join her full-fledged migraine and made driving home in traffic an even bigger nightmare than usual. “She’s hated me since the day I started there, no matter how nice I’ve tried to be.”

“She’s jealous, baby,” Grayson murmurs at once, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “You’ve come in and been there half the time she has, done the same job way better than her, and got recognized for it. Nobody likes to be outshone.”

MJ sighs and squeezes him reflexively as she moves on to the other half of Chanel’s dislike for her. “And it’s like getting bullied by the head cheerleader in high school. She basically told me I was too fat for you and that I don’t work out enough to ‘keep up with your healthy lifestyle.’” She lets out a little mirthless huff of laughter. “I mean, usually she says it behind my back to Annie the Asshole from Accounting, so I guess I should be appreciative that she at least had the decency to say it in so many words to my face tonight.”

Grayson sits in silence for a moment, seething internally at the thought that some dumb bitch who doesn’t know him in the slightest could have the nerve to talk to and about his girlfriend like that. He reaches for his phone on the couch next to them. “First of all, you're not fat, and I’d love you just the same even if you were. Second, give me all her at’s. I’m blocking this girl on everything.”

God, could the man get any more perfect? MJ sits up some and cups his face, shaking her head with a small smile. “No, no, it’s okay, Bear. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. If anything, I’d want you to post a thirst trap just so she can see what’s not her’s. What’s mine.”

“I think that could be arranged tonight,” he smirks, giving her a chaste kiss.

She attempts to smile back, but it turns into a grimace as her head gives a massive throb out of nowhere. “Shit,” she mumbles, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Grayson gives her a concerned look before she explains, “Headache.”

It takes all of three seconds for Grayson to secure one arm around her back and hook the other under her knees, standing and holding her bridal style. “Come on,” he says, like she really has a choice in the matter, and starts carrying her to their room. MJ wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles her head into his shoulder with her eyes closed to block out the evening sun. “We’re taking a bath, then I’ll order dinner to eat in bed while we have a movie night.”

MJ nods gratefully. As usual, he knows exactly what she needs. “Ratatouille?”

Grayson chuckles at the hopeful tone in her voice. Ratatouille is one of MJ’s ‘sick’ movies; something quiet and nostalgic that offers that weird feeling of peace that you need when you just don’t feel good. “Of course, Ratatouille.”

He sits her on the counter once they reach the ensuite bathroom and pinches her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, planting a warm, lingering kiss on her lips; not heated, but comforting. Just what she needs in that moment.

“Stay put,” he commands quietly. MJ agrees and starts to unbutton her blouse as she watches Grayson step into the closet, pulling out one of her favorite t-shirts of his and a pair of his boxers. He puts the folded items next to her on the counter and helps her untuck the shirt from her cigarette trousers, tossing it in the dry-cleaning pile before reaching into one of her drawers and retrieving her makeup wipes.

MJ sighs and closes her eyes as she lets him gently drag the fresh-smelling cloth against the skin of her face. They aren't part of her usual skincare regimen, but Grayson has been exposed to her routine long enough and is perceptive enough to know that they’re for late nights, or ones like tonight, when she just doesn't have the energy to do more.

It feels better than if she had been able to get herself to use face wash and toner and such, anyways. The coolness of it and pressure of his fingers feel wonderful against her eyes and cheeks, alleviating some of the pain there momentarily.

MJ flutters her eyes open when he’s done. “Thank you, Bear,” she sighs, which he replies to with a kiss before walking over to the soaking tub. She hops off the counter and unbuckles her belt and pants, then unhooks her bra and steps out of her underwear.

Her reflection in the mirror glares back at her, Grayson in the background fiddling with the knobs on the tub to get the temperature of the water just right. She watches his muscles ripple with the slightest movements, his abs outlined through the fabric of his t-shirt, and can’t help but focus back in on herself. There’s some extra squish around her upper thighs and arms that no amount of training would get rid of; a softness to her tummy that probably comes from her undying love of Oreos, which are her nighttime vice. When she compares the two of them in this intimate space, maybe Chanel was right…

“Stop that.”

MJ startles a little and looks up in the mirror from where she had unconsciously started pinching and picking at what were really the bits of healthy pudginess under her skin, to find Grayson standing directly behind her. The harshness in his tone makes her withdraw and blush some, embarrassed that he had caught her at such an insecure moment.

He wraps his arms around her middle, his open palms brushing against the skin of her belly. His touch both warms her insides and causes them to erupt in nervous tingles. For some reason, MJ has a hard time seeing the two of them like this, with her completely naked and him fully clothed. She isn't afraid, never with Grayson, but she feels incredibly vulnerable in a way she isn't used to with him.

Grayson presses a kiss to the back of her head and makes sure they have eye contact through the mirror before he continues. “I’ll be damned if I let some idiot girl who doesn't matter to either of us make you feel like you’re not enough, MJ. You’re perfect, you hear me? You’re perfect, and I wouldn't change one inch of you, inside or out. Please don’t pick yourself apart like that.”

His voice holds a mixture of conviction and sadness, and MJ bites her lip as she sinks her back into his chest, her arms folding around his at her waist. She brushes her palm across the crisp, dark hairs covering one of his forearms.

“I could work out a little harder, though,” she murmurs after a few seconds of silence. “And cut back on a few carbs.”

Grayson looks at her incredulously. She’s lean and athletic, but it’s impossible to have the juicy, natural perfection of her ass and those breasts without a little extra, which he actually adores; she’s the very definition of slim-thick, a beautiful personification of the word.

He isn’t sure what kills him more inside: to think he hasn’t made it abundantly clear to her that he loves every square inch of her body; or if girls, society, whoever it is, make her think that the hard work she puts into her physique isn’t enough simply because she has a body type that isn’t what Instagram or people like Chanel deem ‘perfect’.

Either way, he’s going to rectify things right this instant.

“First of all, MJ, I know exactly how hard you work out; I’m doing it every morning with you, five days a week at 6 AM, remember? I’m the last person to lie to anyone about how much effort they give in their fitness. I know how hard you push yourself.”

He spins her around and cups her cheeks in his big hands. His stomach withers and his heart hurts when he sees the faint glitter of tears illuminating her emerald green eyes, making him want to be extra sure his next words are heard loud and clear. “Second, if I ever see that family sized box of double-stuffed Oreos in the trash, not empty, I’ll have a meltdown wondering where the hell my girlfriend went. Please, MJ. Those girls at your work are miserable cunts who only want what they can’t have. Don’t bring that energy back here, on us. I love you, exactly as you are.”

MJ takes a moment and considers his words before relenting with a nod. He’s right. Chanel and Annie should be the last things she’s thinking about when she’s got the man of her dreams right in front of her, saying all the right things and bringing her back to reality with his sweet, supportive words.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, leaning in for a tight hug from him. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gray assures, rubbing her back soothingly. “Let’s have a nice, relaxing night now, okay?”

MJ nods, pulling away enough from his body to grasp the hem of his t-shirt. He wags his brows playfully as he lifts his arms so she can pull the garment over his head, and gives her a quick smile before ducking down to kiss her.

She seems to be feeling slightly better, and a weight lifts from his chest at the realization. “Don’t distract me,” he mumbles against her lips after they make out lazily for a few moments. “Or our bath will overflow.”

“Don’t be so perfect, then,” she says back with a smirk, giving his ass a little swat as he returns to the tub and drops a Lush bath bomb and a chunk of bubble bar into the water.

While he does that, MJ opens one of the medicine cabinets. She isn’t big on taking pills, but she relents today and pops an Excedrin as her head pounded again. Once she swallows it with a handful of water from the sink, she starts to pile her hair into a bun, but is stopped by Gray’s grip on her forearm.

Her eyes had zoned out on a random spot on the counter, but at the pressure of his hand she looks up in the mirror to see him as naked as she is. “Don’t be silly,” he chides lightly, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. “You’re getting the full treatment tonight, Peach. I’ve got your shampoo and conditioner ready to go over there.”

He pulls gently down on her arm, and her hair tumbles back down over her shoulders and back as she lets him tug her to the warm, foamy water.

Ten minutes later, the Excedrin has kicked in, soft music from their ‘chill’ playlist plays through Grayson’s phone on the edge of the tub, and his strong fingers are creating heavenly relief for her as they scrub at her scalp. She’s totally relaxed in front of him, letting his broad chest and shoulders cocoon her smaller frame as her eyes droop and she moans lightly.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear, making her shiver despite the steaming water they sit in. She snuggles closer to his warmth. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with those assholes every day.”

It takes a moment for her brain to form the words, but she hums contentedly in reply. “It’s okay. Don’t know what I’d do without you, though, Gray.”

It’s so true. She has never been the girl to be codependent on anyone, let alone the man she’s in a relationship with, but Gray has achieved that honor in a matter of a year and a half. Probably earlier, if she were being honest with herself, but her adult life before him was a blur. She’s forgotten what it was like to not have him by her side, and she doesn’t want to imagine a scenario in the future where he isn’t.

He finishes washing her hair, lulling her into an even deeper trance when he moves her dark, wet locks over one shoulder so he can massage her neck with deep presses of his thumbs into her tight muscles. His fingers are nimble and dexterous, strengthened by his renewed passion for rock climbing, and are perfect for loosening the tension under her skin.

“Mmm, fuck,” she moans, not meaning for it to come out quite so pornographic, but she feels nearly orgasmic in the relief his hands are bringing her. Speaking of… “You’re gonna get the best head tomorrow, I promise.”

Grayson chuckles, squeezing her shoulders now, too. MJ feels him twitch against her lower back, but he says in her ear, “I’m not doing this for you to return the favor. I just want to be the one to make you feel better. Because I love you, and you’re mine, and you deserve it.”

“I know you’re not,” MJ smiles. “That only makes me want to do it even more.”

He grins and moves his hands further down her back beneath the water, massaging his knuckles into the soft skin there as well before coasting up her sides. He cups her breasts as MJ sinks back against him, her breathing picking up the slightest bit as his hands work magic there, too.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his hot breath flowing straight into her ear and sending goosebumps flaring over her skin.

More than okay, she thinks. MJ nods, and gasps when his hands pinch her nipples gently between his ring and middle fingers, tugging slightly. She takes his large hand off her right breast and sinks it into the water, straight to her center, her legs already parting to welcome him.

“Just rub me,” she whispers, eyes closed as he doesn’t hesitate to obey. “Circles, like this.”

MJ guides his fingers over her clit for a moment to show him exactly what she wants, but this isn’t their first rodeo and Gray knows perfectly well what he’s doing. She lets him take over and simply lies back against him as he expertly brings her higher and higher, until she’s falling over the edge, twitching in his arms and moaning sweetly.

Grayson tilts her head back to kiss him, sighing into her mouth as she twists in his arms to straddle him. He’s completely hard now, and she takes him in her hand instinctively. Twenty minutes ago, sex was the last thing on her mind, but she feels so good and relaxed now that she doesn’t hesitate to line him up and sink down slowly on his dick.

She grins smugly when his eyes fly open and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, completely surprised by a warm wetness that is vastly different from that of the bathwater. When she had stroked him in her hand he thought she might jerk him off, but her pussy, still deliciously tight from her orgasm, isn’t what he’s prepared for as he becomes slowly encased in it.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t meant for it to last long, because he’s so overwhelmed and caught off-guard it only takes a couple of minutes max of her grinding up and down on him while she whispers hot, dirty things in his ear, for him to shoot deep inside her.

“Shit,” he huffs out with a little laugh as she raises herself up enough for him to slip out of her pussy. “Did you just give me the equivalent of a hand job with your vagina? I know that wasn’t for you.”

She giggles and sits back in his lap, shrugging as she nuzzles his nose with hers. “What can I say, I’m feeling lazy tonight and that seemed like the faster option. Are you complaining?”

Grayson shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not, but I didn't want you to do any work tonight.” His brows pinch a bit and his lips turn down into a pout. “Are you okay? How’s your head?”

MJ smiles softly and brushes his cheek with pruned fingertips. Even post-orgasm, he’s still concerned only about her. “Better, Gray-bear. Thank you.”

God, she loves him so much. She can’t resist wiping her hands on the towel and reaching behind him to grab his phone to capture him in that moment. His hair has gone curly in the humidity of the bathroom; the light from the window shines perfectly on his chiseled face, making his sex-eyes nearly pure green and illuminating his full lips that have curled into a small, crooked smile as he realizes her intention. She laughs when he takes it upon himself after a few serious snaps to play up to the camera, scooping up some of the bubbles and blowing them off his palm while giving her a joking, coquettish expression. Finally, she puts her back against his chest once again and they take a couple of goofy, up-angle shots, close-ups of their faces.

Photoshoot over, Grayson sighs and hugs her tight to him as he sucks kisses up and down the sides of her neck while she goes through the pictures. He’s making her head swim, but she manages to determine three of her favorites and doesn’t even bother editing them before adding a simple heart emoji in the caption and posting them to his Instagram once she earns his approval.

She turns around to put the phone back on the ledge before leaning in to plant her lips on his, slipping her tongue between them sensually. She could kiss this man forever, but eventually they start slowing down. MJ moves her kisses to his sharp jawline, trailing her mouth across and down until she gets to his neck freckle. She gives it a peck before pulling back, meeting his hooded gaze with warm eyes. It feels so good to just give each other these little bouts of physical affection with no real end goal. Just enjoying each other’s company, in their own space, caressed by the comforting warmth and scents of the bath.

Eventually, MJ peels herself away from him and stands up. Grayson stares up at her adoringly, admiring the way the water cascades over her body and rains down back into the tub. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

She looks like a naiad with her long, dark hair covering her tits and dripping sensual trails of warm water down the dips and curves of her body. As if she doesn’t look delectable enough to him right now, her pussy is inadvertently right in his face, and his hand instantly reaches up to touch her. “Me too,” he growls, his fingertips tracing her lower lips and parting them so her clit is exposed. His mouth literally starts to water as he thinks about her earthy taste and her slippery arousal coating his tongue.

Just as he’s ducking in to swipe his tongue over her slit, MJ grips a handful of his hair and stops him, tilting his head back with that grip to make him look up at her questioningly. “Not now,” she says, taking her turn to scratch her nails along his scalp for a moment. “Still sensitive. And actually starving; I had to spend my entire lunch break fixing part of that report.”

Grayson nods understandingly and lifts the plug in the drain before standing up as well. “Then let’s get some Monty’s in you, hm?”

“That sounds amazing,” she agrees, her stomach growling right on cue.

They both chuckle and Grayson helps her step out of the tub before wrapping her up in a big, fluffy towel. He kisses her nose, then her lips, and retreats into the closet with his own towel to find fresh PJs for himself.

An hour later, they’re chowing down on some burgers and shoestring fries together in the fresh blankets of their bed while Ratatouille plays through the projector. And Chanel’s stupid username hasn’t popped up once in his likes or comments.

#only posting this now bc ive been in a funk the past few days #and i need some soft over romantic fluff #also when i made my masterlist i realized there were 6 posts #and the number 6 is a huge trigger for my ocd i hate it #also this was already written haha so yeah #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan oc #dolan twins fanfic #grayson mj

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dweetwise · 5 years ago

Note

Headcannons about Ace interacting with other survivors in the realm? Thanks!!

[yess trash husband! these all got weirdly wholesome sksksk just let me have this ok]

there are too many survivors lmao this is so long

Ace & other survivors headcanons

In general Ace is a friendly guy, trying his best to stay on good terms with all the survivors and avoid drama. He’ll joke, tease and flirt to keep things lighthearted in camp.

He’s a lot more perceptive than he seems, and what initially seems to be an ill-timed quip or a joke in poor taste is often well thought out to lighten the mood and shift the attention away from an argument or tension between the others.

Dwight

Dwight was the first survivor to make him feel part of the group when he initially arrived in the realm. Where the others saw a shady man twice their age lacking any sort of tact, Dwight saw a potential ally just trying to cope with a shitty situation.

Ever since, Ace has made it his mission to act as Dwight’s #1 cheerleader. When the other gets wrapped up in his own head, Ace will offer cheesy compliments until Dwight can’t help but laugh at his antics, forgetting his insecurities at least momentarily.

Ace likes Dwight well enough despite their completely different personalities, but mostly recognizes how important it is to keep their leader’s spirits high.

Meg

Meg is a bit of a loudmouth and Ace likes that she gives as good as she gets. He’ll often tease her and she’ll insult him in return, the others not understanding why the two are grinning like idiots while seemingly arguing.

When Meg has a bad day, she’ll sometimes just flop down next to Ace and sag against him without a word. He knows not to say anything and just lets her rest against him, maybe shows her a neat card trick if she looks like she needs a distraction.

Meg pointedly never talks about any father figure in her life, only her mother, so Ace is happy to fill in for any paternal affection she needs. He’s not sure he deserves the trust she's placed in him, but tries his best nonetheless.

Claudette

Ace thinks Claudette hates him at first, since the girl rarely laughs at his jokes, sometimes even interrupting to defend the person he’s bantering with. It takes him a while to realize that Claudette just has trouble reading his tone, tending to take his words at face value.

He makes a conscious effort to be more genuine with her, and actually ends up opening up more to her than any of the others because he can’t hide behind wit and sarcasm.

Even though he loves being the life of the party, when he needs a breather he seeks out one-on-one time with Claudette and listens for hours while she talks about plants or her family in her soothing voice.

Jake

Jake is an ongoing project for him. Ace has caught glimpses of Jake’s wonderfully dark sense of humor and is determined to see more of what’s behind the stoic exterior.

So Ace pushes more than any of the others, teasing and joking even when it’s clear Jake wants to be left alone. Usually he gets an annoyed grunt or an eye roll for his efforts. Sometimes, he gets punched. But every once in a while, particularly when nobody else is around, he’ll get a small smirk and an amazingly witty quip in return.

So he keeps pestering Jake, hoping that one day the other will be comfortable enough to let his guard down around him and the rest of the survivors.

Nea

Nea is a huge brat and is Ace’s favorite partner is trials, as she’s always up for doing dumb shit with him and doesn’t care if he gets distracted and loots a chest or five.

In camp, she’s like an annoying little sister, constantly getting up in his business, calling out his cheating in card games and booing at his less than stellar jokes.

Ace is her go-to confidant for her girl troubles. She always pretends to be annoyed at his shitty advice and the cringy pick-up lines he suggests she use, but she’s grateful to have someone to talk to who never judges.

Laurie

Laurie doesn’t approve of Ace’s previous lifestyle, not to mention some of the impulsive decisions he makes in trials, and she’s not afraid of letting him know. He doesn’t mind being lectured by her and will be the first to admit she’s leagues more mature than he is despite her young age.

She pretends to hate his jokes but still catches her smiling when she thinks he doesn’t see. Though he learned the hard way that she’s not receptive to flirty comments when she wrangled his arm back for calling her “sweetheart”.

She has cried on his shoulder multiple times, especially after trials against her brother. Ace thinks it’s because he’s open to a fault compared to her reserved nature, and she knows he won’t push her away or make a big deal out of it. Afterwards, she’ll be embarrassed and threaten violence if he tells the others, and he’ll go back to cracking jokes.

Bill

In many ways, Bill is Ace’s polar opposite; he’s serious, grumpy and sarcastic compared to Ace’s lighthearted and over-the-top demeanor.

They make a good comedy duo, with Bill being a reluctant participant most of the time. Still, the other has yet to actually ignore his goading, taking every chance to try to knock Ace down a peg.

Bill’s true colors shine through in bad trials, when he’ll ask Ace to help him save their younger friends, trusting his skill and moral code at least momentarily. After all, there’s a certain kind of solidarity that only comes from bleeding out next to each other on the ground after having successfully bullied the killer away from their teammates.

Feng

Some of the others dislike Feng and how selfish she is in trials, but Ace has a soft spot for her and her erratic behavior, quick to jump in and defuse situations where the others are ganging up on her.

Feng eventually recognizes Ace as her equal and not a “pleb” like she sees most of the others. She’ll even almost look happy to see him if they spawn together in a trial, before pestering him until he hands her his item.

Feng’s competitive nature sometimes makes her take out her frustration on the others in a gamer rage. Ace often intentionally makes himself an easy target by teasing her, not minding being her verbal punching bag as he knows it’s all bark and no bite and it helps her de-stress.

David

Ace finds David’s complete lack of filter and dirty humor amusing. The two have the most bizarre banter, egging each other on with gags that consist of 90 % of obscenities and that cause some of the others to cover their ears in second hand embarrassment.

Ace likes that David doesn’t take himself too seriously, and often uses the Brit as the butt of a joke, knowing the other won’t mind and will most likely be the one to laugh the hardest.

If David gets in one of his moods, pent up after a trial and looking for a brawl, Ace is one of the few who can snap him out of it with one of their tasteless jokes. Sometimes the joke falls flat and he gets punched or wrestled to the ground instead, but hey, at least David’s not sulking any more.

Quentin

Ace goes easy on Quentin at first, because the boy looks so tired and seems like he’s struggling with the realm. Quentin eventually notices the special treatment and starts giving him shit for it. Ace goes full force with the banter and Quentin is more than happy to dish it back, displaying a delightfully quick wit and dry sense of humor.

He still recognizes that Quentin might have an aversion to older men so he keeps a healthy distance between them, consciously resisting his natural inclination for playful shoves or flirty jokes.

Proud member of the Protect Quentin / Kick Freddy’s Ass squad. He wishes he could do more for Quentin, but hey, at least he can make the sleepy boy crack a few jokes at Ace’s expense.

Tapp

His relationship with Tapp is tense at first; as conman and cop, they have a lot of prejudices against each other.

Tapp eventually drops the antagonism, recognizing the real threat in the killers and realizing the benefits of teamwork. That includes accepting petty criminals like himself and Nea.

They’re not the best of friends by any means, but it’s kind of nice to play cards with the man and be able to chat with someone his own age. Ace doesn’t even cheat in their games, and in return gets to hear about some of Tapp’s more colorful cases as a detective.

Kate

Ace values Kate a lot in their group; she’s hearty, genuine and he’s never seen her angry. She radiates charisma in a way that’s completely different to his own, and Ace feels like he can relax and drop the “entertainer” act when she′s around.

He’s not actually close to her personally, as they don’t have much more in common than being the token happy person by the campfire. Still, they have a silent understanding of one another.

Ace will sometimes call her obnoxious pet names like honey, sweetheart and pumpkin, and she’ll just laugh in her melodious voice and shoot back a “yes, darlin’?”.

Adam

Adam is well-read and sophisticated to a point where Ace feels a little bit intimidated. Adam will frown at some of his jokes and correct him, and Ace will feel dumb.

Ace starts having his guard up around the other, until Adam seems to notice and makes a conscious effort to befriend him, confessing that he’s just a little awkward and never meant to be rude.

Ace is always quick to forgive and forget and goes back to joking full force, also making an effort to ask the other about some useless trivia every now and then because it makes Adam’s face light up.

Jeff

Jeff is just so chill even Ace feels himself mellow out in his company. They have pretty much nothing in common but Jeff always chuckles at his jokes and has some pretty good one-liners of his own.

He’ll sometimes just sit with Jeff and talk about anything and everything, appreciating the other’s interesting worldview that’s so different to his own. It always feels kind of like he’s just out having a beer with a bro.

Jeff is the one Ace is most comfortable with asking advice from, because the man never judges and his advice often offers a whole new perspective.

Jane

Jane and Ace butt heads a lot. She doesn’t like some of his more questionable jokes and won’t hesitate to call him out. In return, he’ll claim she just needs to lighten up.

Eventually this dynamic becomes a joke of its own, with the others commenting on how “mom and dad are arguing again”.

Ash

Hoo boy. These two are so much alike and it usually ends in disaster. Will bully killers together and get facecamped while the other is slugged next to the hook.

Ash is more of an adrenaline junkie than him, and Ace actually starts finding himself being the voice of reason that tries to talk Ash out of sucker punching the killer.

Ash is somehow also even more of an attention whore than Ace, so when the man is telling a crazy story to the rest of the camp, Ace is content to quietly slip away from the commotion and go chill with Claudette or Jeff.

Nancy

Nancy is one of the smartest people Ace has ever met and he loves how flustered she gets whenever he tells her as much.

He’s happy to let her take the lead in trials, as she, like Dwight, seems to be a natural leader. She’s always surprised by his acceptance of her as an equal or even superior, and he can tell she’s had trouble with being taken seriously in the past.

That being said, he can’t resist messing with her every now and then, cracking jokes and trying to get her to loosen up and realize that the fate of the world does not rest on her shoulders.

Steve

Ace sees a lot of himself in Steve; the goofiness, the troublemaking, and the cockiness that sometimes verges on arrogance.

He goes along with Steve’s dumb ideas in trials, feeling decades younger every time the teen eggs him on to have flashlight lightshows or make farting sounds with the gauze rolls instead of doing the objective.

When Steve inevitably gets caught trying to pull a dumb stunt, Ace will be the one to save his ass while giving him shit for it, all in good nature.

Yui

Yui is a badass if he’s ever seen one. They’ve pulled off so many end-game rescues together that should have been impossible, but with her determination and his luck they always seem to defeat the odds.

In camp, Yui is a wiseass and they give each other so much shit for the smallest of things. Yui is painfully blunt and thrives on good banter, and Ace is happy to indulge her.

Yui has a filthy mouth that will give David a run for his money and has even managed to make Ace blush and gape on a couple of occasions.

Zarina

Zarina is not amused by Ace’s flirting and flamboyance. Zarina values actions, not words, and somehow seems to sense all the empty promises Ace has made in his past.

Each time he’s about to engage her in conversation is predated by one of her eye rolls or exaggerated sighs. He starts greeting her with the same gestures to mess with her, annoying her further.

Nevertheless, when push comes to shove, she’s there to pick him up off the ground at the expense of her own health state and reluctantly compliments him for running the killer for three gens.

Cheryl

Cheryl keeps surprising Ace, her shy demeanor hiding a dry sense of humor and a rebellious streak.

She plays along with his banter without missing a beat, throwing in some jokes at his expense for good measure, causing Nea and Yui to basically insta-adopt her as one of their own and bond over his shitty sense of humor.

sorry there’s only 2 for jane and cheryl! i’ve done a hc with ace&jane before and i still don’t have a good grasp on cheryl/heather’s character ;w;

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rosesnink · 4 years ago

Text

Plan B, Part 1: To Be A Man

A/N: GASP! What is this? This is the first part of Plan B! I’m already planning things, but I’ll drop this here while I deal with my exams and projects (one out of three already sent!) and thought that I’d at least drop the first chapter 😊❤ Hope it exceeds your expectations! Also: this is an AU, all fiction. I don’t think that Samantha wouldn’t have been complete without her kid, Sam is a complete woman with or without children and with or without a man. She wants to have this kid, it is her decision, no one is forcing her to have the baby.

Summary: Samantha’s life has a purpose: she knows who she is and what she wants to be, and she is certain of who she wants in her life, but a small unexpected surprise makes her question her life all over again.

TW: Slight depression, language

Samantha didn’t know how many hours had she lay there, if hours, days or weeks, but when she finally smelled her armpit and finally noticed the messages of her friends and family, she gasped. She had been away for no more than two weeks on that shithole of motel she rented after what happened.

The memory itself made her flinch as tears welled down on her eyes yet again, the memory torturing her over and over.

Two weeks ago

At the time she woke up, she smiled, humming to herself as she remembered the incredible night she had with her long-time crush, Ernest Sinclaire. She couldn’t believe when he accepted to have a date with her, much less when he kissed her. And how they ended on her room, the many times she thought about having him like this actually happening. How good she felt. How… happy she was, with him on her arms.

But in the morning, she wished she never woke up. He looked… distant. Like he regretted what happened. Avoiding her graze, like he was embarrassed.

Is he? Embarrassed that he slept with someone like me?

“Ernest?”. He didn’t answer. She threw herself her bra and her shirt and looked for his graze again “Did I do something wrong?”.

“This can’t happen again, Samantha.”

She frowned “I-I’m sorry?”.

He swallowed hard and finally found the words he was looking for “Samantha, you’re an exceptional woman and I find you most alluring, but—”.

“But what? I’m not rich enough? I’m not a noble born in wedlock? I’m too much of a country peasant girl for a rich squire like you?” She was now mad at him.

“It’s not that, Samantha, I—” He sighed as his eyes went elsewhere but her own “I lost my wife recently and her death— I should have never accepted that in mourning, I shouldn’t—”.

“Really? That’s what I am to you? A mistake? Something that should have never happened? A girl you can fuck all night long and then throw out?!” She raised her voice, standing up as she crossed her arms, rage tears welling on her eyes “Do you know for how long I have waited for you? How many amazing men who deserved my attention I have rejected because I was ridiculously in love with you, how many times I have told my friends that you were the one for me despite being married and that you’d realize? Do you know in what position do you leave me now, Ernest, rejecting me like this? Everyone at this point knows what happened here tonight!” She sobbed, her teeth shaking “Is this really what I am worth to you? One good sex and goodbye?”.

“Samantha, I’m sorry, I—I should have never left you in this position, it was ungentlemanly and disgusting of me and you deserve better than me. It’s just—I am not available for a relationship right now. I cannot commit myself to someone after losing a wife—”.

“She never loved you! She always laughed at you and never cared for you! Hells, if you died she’d celebrate! You were nothing to her whereas you were everything to me! I tried to make myself worth of your love, but I see it now. You’re a jerk and you are not deserving of me. I deserve someone stable, constant. I deserve to be someone’s first option and I will never be that for you. Not even if I have been trying to prove the contrary for 15 years!” She yelled with all her rage and heartbreak. He got up slowly and tried to reach her, but she slapped him hard on the face “I hate you.”

“…I deserved that.”

“You won’t say anything?”.

“I—”.

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it. Nor I want to hear from you anymore. I’m out.”

She got dressed quickly and looked one more time for him to say something, anything, but he just stood there, looking at his hands. Then, he stood up and walked out, closing the door, leaving her to her tears.

She wiped her teary eyes, sighing as she shook her head.

“No, Samantha, no. No more crying for that son of a bitch. You deserve someone better.”

She started to get dressed and ordered some food, even if her stomach was icky and dry. She needed to eat now.

When the deliverer, a nice young man who seemed to be 16 delivered her the pizza, the smell came in a rush. She tried to lift her hand to pay the freckled boy, but her whole world started to spin. She gasped for air before her world went black. The last thing she heard was the boy’s scared voice, calling for her in vain.

Some time after, she noticed a strong, white light and voices. She slowly opened her eyes, and recognized her father’s voice and his brother, who seemed to be shushing her step-mother of her constant bickering.

“Samantha! Thank God you’re okay! My sweet, beautiful girl.” It was her father. He kissed her whole face and her hand, happy tears on his face “It gave us such a scare when the doctor called us, saying that you were here because you fainted! I can hardly believe you hadn’t eaten anything during the past week and only drank water seven times on two weeks! What were you thinking, sweetie?”.

“She’s doing this for attention, Vincent, don’t be so naïve!” Henrietta sneered.

Samantha found her voice hoarse as she replied “Hey, Henrietta, why don’t you go fuck yourself before I call the nurse?”.

“How dare you—”.

“Mother, if you will dedicate yourself the whole visit to bother her the whole time, it is better if you leave.” Harry defended his sister.

“Harry’s right, Mother. Look at her, she’s too skinny for her age and is paler than a corpse! Last thing she needs is your bickering. At least bother her when she is capable of defend herself, because we all know you won’t cease.”

“B-but I—”.

“The boys are right, Henrietta. Get out, she needs her rest and I want to talk to her and my children alone.”

She huffed before leaving, slamming the door. The boys looked at their father in confusion as he massaged his temples and Samantha looked at him, now scared. He had never been this anxious. He was always collected and calm, but this time he wasn’t.

“Father, what is it? What did the doctor said? Do I have something bad? Oh my god, do I have mother’s illness?”.

“No, no you don’t. It isn’t bad, but… it is indeed life-changing.”

The boys raided the man with questions, not understanding what was happening. Samantha’s head was spinning again.

“Father, what is it?”.

“Samantha… you’re pregnant.” He announced, looking at her.

She let go a gasp as everything fitted. Her heart raced as she took it in. She was about to say something in the storm of questions of her brothers when she felt a knot on her neck and, without a warning, she threw up on her father’s expensive pants. Everyone gasped.

“F-father, I am so sorry, I-I-I-I—”.

“It’s alright, beanie. Stay calm. Harry, fetch the nurse and the doctor who diagnosed her and call the Dalys and the Parsons. Samantha now needs her friends. We will have a talk later.”

Some hours later, Samantha’s friends were there, feeding her some healthy food as they commented banal things to ease her turmoil, but it was Briar the one to finally talk about the real reason they were there.

“Sam, I am so glad that you’re alright and all, but… who’s the father?”.

“How did it happen?” Cordelia asked.

“Is he a good lover?” Constance taunted.

“Girls! Behave! Sam is still processing it, and it is her story to tell, so you better—”.

“The father is Ernest.” She confessed, out loud.

The room went silent for a moment, the girls exchanging looks before they all decided that Annabelle was the one to ask the questions of the whole group “Ernest? As Ernest Sinclaire, the rich squire who got widowed a month ago?” She was calm outside, but she knew that inside she was raging. She knew men better than she did and probably her theory was close to what happened.

She nodded as she told them everything, crying and spitting how much she hated him for it and what a jerk he was. Briar offered to go with Harry to beat him up, while Cordelia suggested her many pranks and Theresa told gossips about him until Minerva scolded the younger girls and they got silent again.

“So… what are you going to do now? Are you going to abort, or will you continue this pregnancy?” Minerva asked.

“I-I wouldn’t know. I feel like I need to tell him. If he reacts badly, I will abort and cut off everything related to him and never speak of this again, and if he shows he cares, even if it’s a bit… I have no problem carrying his baby.”

“And after the baby is born, if you do keep him… what will become of him?”.

“Well, I have this week and nine months to figure this out. Meanwhile, I could use some ice-cream and your gossips to heal.”

“Can I punch him, though?” Annabelle asked.

“No.”

During the first week, she started to plan everything as their friends suggested her many activities so she wouldn’t beat herself over that and planning her diet. Henrietta laughed at her and she just glared at her and rolled her eyes and ignored her, as always.

She was taking a bath when she received a call from an old friend of hers. She smiled at the name “Hey, you.”

“Sam! I am so glad that everything went well after your incident! I was so worried, but I found myself in a meeting in Vienna, so I couldn’t run to you sooner.”

“Don’t worry, I have my brothers and father there as my knights in shining armour. I just got out after one week in observance and some changing diets. Apparently, I lost five pounds over two weeks and my situation wasn’t favourable.”

“Are you alright now? I need to know.”

“Yes, a bit tired than usual but I can keep up. Don’t worry, Hamid.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, I just can’t help but worrying for you, Samantha.”

A blush creeped on her cheeks as she chuckled “That’s sweet of you, Hamid. So, you’re back in London?”.

“Yup! I have some errands to run in the Parliament, but I’d love to see you.”

“I could use some company these days. May I see you tomorrow in the morning and we have breakfast together?”.

She could hear him beam “I’d love to! At eight o’clock?”.

“Seems great.”

“It’s settled then. See you tomorrow, Sam.”

“Bye!”.

The morning after, he was there, waiting for her on her porch, an elegant suit that suited his olive skin and a beaming smile on his face. He greeted her with a kiss on her hand and escorted her inside, complimenting her chosen attire and how much she was glowing.

She felt for once relaxed, laughing and even replying to his gallantry, feeling observed, adored, seen, like he was doing this because she was his first option. Hamid was a wanderer, yes, but he was everything Samantha deserved: a man who was actually interested in her, that looked at her like the most beautiful woman in the world, who made her feel beautiful, wanted, supported… but she couldn’t reciprocate his feelings. At least not now, with this heartbreak and state of mind and body. She wondered if he’d walk away when she told him that she was pregnant and heartbroken of another man.

When they arrived at the café, the paparazzies asked for Samantha to say something about her incident, anything to calm the turmoil that her incident caused to her fans. She said that they should ask her grandmother, who’d be glad to answer the questions of her condition. They also asked Hamid if they were on a date and he smirked, saying that it was up to her, thing that made her blush fiercely.

When the assigned bodyguard -one that her father hired after finding out that she was pregnant- kicked out those nosy paparazzos, she sighed in relief. She looked at Hamid “I’m sorry…”.

“It’s alright. You will be soon Countess and I am a diplomat, this isn’t new to me.” He waved his hand dismissively “Now, tell me, how have you been? Last time I heard from you, you disappeared for a week and blocked everyone. It broke my heart entirely that I couldn’t hear from you.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I was in a bad place where I hated every single person in the planet and the last thing I wanted to hear, was a man’s voice. No offense, though.”

“No offense taken. I know that it takes a man to make a woman hate us for a while, I have five sisters that taught me that many of us are jerks, but you’re safe with me.”

He placed carefully his hand on her and she gave him a grateful smile. They talked for a while, laughing and commenting Hamid’s adventures on Vienna. He looked at her the whole time, but his graze became intense when he commented the next thing about his latest travel “You know, Vienna was incredible and it made me realize many things.”

“Like what?”.

“What and who I want to be…and with who I want to share it with.”

Her heart thumped on her chest as she looked at him, wide-eyed “Hamid…?”.

He took her hands in his “Samantha Joelle Foredale… I am in love with you. I think I have always been, these past seven years, and I noticed it when they told me you had an incident and was unconscious at the hospital, too weak. However, I have also noticed that your eyes are elsewhere, but I want, no—I will prove to you that I am deserving of your hearts. That I can be your man, that I can give you the world and I am willing to do everything on your terms. I am at your total and utter disposal, Samantha. Three words and I am yours until I die.”

For a moment, she smiled. She had before her a man at her feet, in love with her and willing to even change some things to earn her heart. She’d say yes and raise this baby with him, ignoring the reality and being happy with a man that loved her for so long and truly wanted her.

She looked around, as if waiting for a signal, but the reality hit her. She wasn’t at the best position on mental health, she was heartbroken and pregnant… not of this man, but other one. Other who threw her under the bus over a dead woman who was never deserving of him. A man who she had been in love long for a decade and half.

Can I just ignore all of this? Can I be with a man I never laid eyes on and ignore the fact that I am pregnant of a man who will never love me?

“Hamid, I—you’re so kind, interesting, sweet and worth, but—I am not the best person to be with. I have been diagnosed with depression and I’m in a compromising situation that will humiliate you. On another scenario, I would’ve accepted, but not right now. I am just—so hurt, heartbroken and confused! I don’t know what I want and you deserve a woman who does want you genuinely and not just to escape her crude reality.”

“I… I understand your situation, Samantha. Even I don’t know about it. But I am still determined for winning you over. I have never felt this before and I want to be there for you, all in. I will stay here for a year, so there is no pressure. Besides, you would never humiliate me on purpose. Because you’re a good woman, Samantha. That’s one of the things that made me fall for you.”

She got silent for one moment, dwelling on what to do. Hamid was there, at her feet, willing to do anything to win her heart, to make her happy, to give her a life full of adventures and excitement. Maybe her baby needed someone like him. She took a deep breath before answering “Hamid, if you’re pursuing my heart, you must know… I am pregnant of another man.”

He got shocked for a moment before his face fell “Do you love him?”.

“I…I don’t know right now. It’s complicated.”

“Does he love you?”.

“…No. He never will. He… he broke my heart.”

“He what? He just… left you and broke your heart even when you’re pregnant of his child? That is deplorable! Who is he? I shall talk to him about—”.

“He doesn’t know yet, Hamid! I found out, like, five days ago.”

He took a deep breath, as if cooling down for her “Are you going to keep it? The baby?”.

“I need to talk to him first. This child is also his and I want to see if he’s willing to have it. But I don’t want to raise a kid with a parent that will never love them. It’s not fair.”

“Even if they lack of a father, that baby will have many other people who will be willing to give them the love their father isn’t capable of giving them. Me in all of them, if it’s in your heart.”

She looked at him, her heart now racing “You… you would?”.

“In the moment that baby is born, if you’ll allow me.”

She leaned towards him, now her heart speaking and acting. He also leaned and their foreheads touched, as a confirmation that he meant it. He kissed her forehead, his hand caressing her cheek and then her belly.

“If it’s alright to ask… is the father someone I know?”.

“Maybe. His name is Ernest. Ernest Sinclaire.”

His eyes went wide before composing himself “Didn’t he… got widowed a month ago?”.

“Yes, he did. Apparently, that night where this creature was conceived was a mistake.”

He scowled “What a fool. If I had the chance to have you in my arms, I would be so—” He flushed pink, lowering his head “Apologies. I overstep. I shouldn’t have—”.

Before she could say something, she kissed him for a brief moment. Before he could even answer, she broke the kiss and gasped. Without thinking, she ran away from it, her head spinning. She ran and ran before stopping on a bus stop, panting for the effort. A car stopped, looking at the woman startled “Ma’am? Are you alright?”.

“Yes, just a bit worn out.”

The man gasped “Oh! You’re Samantha Foredale, the Viscountess of Edgewater! I am such a fan of yours.” He observed she was clutching her stomach and was pale “May I offer you a ride to somewhere? I am a personal driver and my schedule is free. It shall be my treat. It’s an awful hour to walk around London on your own and in such a delicate state.”

“I don’t want to bother you…”.

“I insist! Besides, it’d be my greatest honour to give a ride to one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen.”

She was about to say something before it started to rain in a harsh way! She didn’t even think about it, just rushed into the luxurious car and panted for the fright. She clutched her stomach before calming herself “Thank you, sir. You are incredibly kind.”

“My pleasure, my lady. Where shall I take you?”.

“…Home. To Grosvenor Square.”

“Your wish is my command.”

During the ride, Hamid texted her, worried about the incident and the rain. She didn’t reply, too tired and icky. When she appeared on the door, her long-term friend Luke Harper rushed her inside and she fell asleep on his arms, his body warmth welcoming.

Many hours later, she woke up with a warm tea and some juice that demanded to be emptied.

When Hamid arrived at the Parliament, many of these annoying grown men were asking him why did he came so late and some scolded him for that with rather racist comments, but those thoughts faded when he saw the so infamous Ernest Sinclaire, talking with a blonde girl who was definitely hitting on him. He couldn’t help but glare at him, thinking of how unaware he was.

He wasn’t about to lie. It was painful for him to see the woman he was in love with suffering because of a man who didn’t value her like the goddess she was. He took a deep breath and headed towards the room where he was demanded to be for a few hours. Before commencing, he glanced over his phone one more time. No signal of Samantha. He just prayed that she was safe under such an horrid rain like the one happening outside.

Some time later, and after a few small glares towards Sinclaire, who was sadly there, he headed towards his car before the man itself approached him “Excuse me, Mr. Osmanoglu, am I right?”. He nodded “I wanted to comment that the conference you gave was an excellent one and I’d like to discuss—” Hamid knew this wasn’t his battle, and he did all he could to hide his annoyance, but it was nearly impossible. He was living his life as if he never hurt Sam! “Sir? Did I say anything wrong? If I have offended you at any form, I apologize.”

“It is not me who you owe an apology.” He spit, in his mind Samantha’s hurt and confused stare, scared and her fate hanging on whether if the man before him would be a decent man or an utter monster “You owe that apology to her. You have no idea of how badly you have damaged her mind.”

“Her? Who are you talking about?” He asked, confused.

“Someone who didn’t deserve your coldness. That woman deserves better.”

With those last words, the dots connected and he gasped “You mean Samantha Foredale of Edgewater? Are you… her boyfriend or something?”.

“I could be if you hadn’t broken her heart entirely.” He scowled.

“I… I did not mean to—”.

“Do us all a favour, sir, and go talk to her. She has important news for you. Don’t dwell on me, go and talk to her. You’ll want to hear what she has to say.”

With that, he got in the car, asking his driver to get him out of the Parliament immediately, avoiding the man’s further questions.

Samantha was taking her tea with her grandmother while she told her about the news about the queen when the housekeeper, Arthur, announced that Ernest Sinclaire was waiting for her on the music parlour. Samantha’s hand reached instinctively to her stomach and looked at her grandmother for guidance.

“He’ll have to know soon enough, Samantha. The sooner, the better.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, walking to where the father of her child was waiting for her patiently. He was dressed formally, as if he had any important meeting. He looked so handsome… Samantha shook that thought and crossed her arms “What do you want?”.

“I just—I haven’t been able to think of another thing than our conversation and how we left things. I wasn’t aware of how much you were hurting and that it was because of me—I am truly sorry, Samantha. I was a complete monster and you deserved better.”

Samantha crossed her arms “You have broken my heart like no one. You humiliated me badly and now I’m in a bad situation because of you.”

“Samantha, I have heard about your incident too. Was it because of our encounter? Are you sick? Do you need money? I can provide—”.

“I AM NOT SICK, YOU COMPLETE MORON, I’M PREGNANT.” She yelled with all of her rage, her breath ragged and her fists made balls “And you don’t even bother to come see me, knowing that it was your fault? Did you know that I got diagnosed with a serious depression because of the heartache you caused?”.

He was silent, stunned by the news. For two straight minutes, didn’t say a word, standing there, quiet and stunned.

“You’re… pregnant? Truly?”.

“You think I’m making it up? You want to see the papers?”.

“Of course not! But I wonder… you want to keep it?”.

“I have no problem having a baby. My problem is the jerk of a father the baby will have! How can I raise a baby whose father is too concerned being a pompous ass who pleases everyone to even glance at us twice? It’s not fair!”.

His eyes went wide as he took a few steps back, as if she had shot him.

“You… think I would do that to you both?” He asked, his expression now hurt.

“Well, you did throw me under the bus with no hesitation, I know so.”

His eyes touched his nose, now his cheeks red of rage “There is a big difference between still mourning your dead wife and doing right by declining your affections because you’re not ready for it with ignoring a child of mine!”.

“You don’t give a fuck about me, why would you give a fuck about this baby, eh?”

“Because you won’t let me!”

“I don’t because I have opened my eyes! At the end of the day, this is all about you!”

“Samantha, I—”.

“I’m tired of your fucking face. I’m out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Elsewhere but with you!”

With that, she slammed the door close and Ernest sunk on the chair, running his hands over his head. If his father were here, he’d surely smack him on the back of the neck, scolding him for letting go a woman like her, especially on her condition. He thought about what to do, what to say, any signal…

He quickly stood up when Vincent Foredale came into the room, looking stern. He feared that he’d punch him, but at the same he couldn’t blame him. If someone hurt his daughter like that and left her pregnant, he’d surely go mad on the boy.

“My lord, if you want to smack me, I—”.

“I don’t want to smack you, Ernest. I’ve known you since you were a little boy. That’s why I know that you’ll do right by her.”

“But what do I do? I don’t know what to say or act!”

He grabbed him by the shoulders “Run after her. Tell her how sorry you are. How willing you are to be present for your baby. That you’ll learn to love her in any way, that you will be the man she needs you to be. Because she and her baby deserve it and I know you can do it. Do not make my same mistake, son. Go, win back your child’s mother! Don’t stay here, go, don’t waste your time!” And with that, he shoved him out of the room.

Vincent was right. Right now, Samantha needed a man willing to be there for her and her child, not a coward who hid behind protocol and manners. So he ran. He ran after her in the rain, looking for her brown hair and her brown eyes, as sweet as chocolate and her small, but strong figure. He caught her on her way to the stables and grabbed gently her forearm, turning her around.

“What the fu—”.

“You’re right, Samantha. You are. I have been a coward, a fool, cruel, heartless and cold and for that I deserve your rage and disappointment. Smack me again if you’d like, for I deserve a million of those. But please… give me a chance. To help you raise this child, our child. Let me be their father, a present, giving and devoted figure. I don’t expect you to forgive me soon, but give me the chance and I shall not disappoint.” He caught her face on his hands, grazing at her intensely and determined “I know you can be stubborn as a mule and determined with your choices, but so can I. I promise I will do right by you both. I will win you back, Samantha Foredale. I will be a better man for them, for your sake and because you and your child deserve it. I will prove you wrong. That is a promise.”

He kissed her hand and then her wrist before calling a passing servant to take her back to the manor. Samantha’s mouth was agape for most of the speech. Mr. Manners was now a different man, like her pregnancy changed who he was.

It was true that the man she fell in love with wasn’t there anymore, but maybe this one was worth the effort. But Hamid was also worth the chance.

As she settled on her bathtub for a quick cleansing bath, she thought for herself:

Who of these two is worth of my heart?

#playchoices fanfic #desire and decorum au #plan b #oc: samantha foredale #ernest sinclaire #prince hamid #ernest x samantha #sam x hamid #annabelle parsons #viscount harry foredale #edmund marlcaster #earl vincent #tw: depression #tw: language

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deadontheinsidebut · 5 years ago

Note

Hihihi! Been scrolling through your blog and I LOVE EM!!❤️ May i request a kuroo angst with fluffy ending? Let your brain run 🤩🤩

Hi!!! Yes ofc you can! I was actually debating making Kuroo cheat but our man ain’t no cheater so I thought this was better! I really hope you enjoy🤩💗 and thank you for the request. Please let me know if you ever have any other requests!! And if it’s not what you envisioned please feel free to tell me😬

In sickness and in health...

Pairing: Kuroo x fem!reader

Genre: angst!!!! And fluff soft boy at the end🥺🥺

Summary: You and Kuroo have been in love for the longest time. You’re both well into your 20s now but you’re so used to the wild life that you both are too afraid to slow down. But what happens when an uncontrollable circumstance gets in the way?

The sound of the car engine roared and blended with harmonious sounds of you and Kuroo’s laughing. The music blasted and the wind in your hair made you feel like a movie star. Because that’s what it was like being with Kuroo Tetsurou. He was the man of your dreams. Before meeting him, you never felt like anything special. You never even left the house. You owe him everything.

You feel his hand reach over and rest your thigh. He gave it a reassuring squeeze as thought he knew what you were thinking. You pull out your phone so you can record this moment forever. The atmosphere was perfect. Your boyfriend’s smile was contagious and the the 3am moon beaming over head was so exhilarating.

“Where are we going tonight, beautiful?” He asks as you continue to film the adventure.

“I want food. I want to go to a diner!!” You exclaim.

“Anything for my queen,” he responds.

Your breathing is quickening in the thrill of the moment and you can feel the lightness in your head.

Everything was going well... until you landed in the hospital.

Your eyes open only to see a very concerned Kuroo by your side. It was morning now. Your hand is intertwined with his and you can see the bags under his eyes. This was your least favourite Kuroo. You never wanted to see a sad expression on your boyfriend’s face. The Kuroo you know and love is always fun loving and energetic.

“You’re finally awake, princess.”

His voice is tired. You heard his voice crack.

“What happened?”

“You had a heart attack. You fell unconscious when we were about to get food..” his voice trails off.

You furrow your brows. A heart attack. But how?

The doctor knocks on the door and makes his way into the room.

“Hello there y/n, I’m Dr. N and I have the results. You’ve been suffering from a coronary artery disease. Do heart diseases run in your family?”

His words did not completely process through your mind. Are you hearing him correctly? Kuroo’s eyes are widened in shock and he’s shaking. He’s shaking because of you.

“What exactly does that mean?” You ask, trying to stay strong for your boyfriend.

“Your arteries are clogged and there is a buildup of cholesterol on the inner walls of your arteries. From now on you need to be more cautious with what you eat and focus on your health. Don’t do anything too wild,” the doctor’s voice trails on.

You’re breathing hard. You couldn’t even cry. The doctor leaves the room so you can have some alone time with Kuroo, but you can’t even meet his eyes. How could you possibly believe that your exuberant lifestyle could carry on when your health is dragging you down? Dragging Kuroo down.

“We’ll get through this, y/n,” Kuroo whispers.

He never uses your real name. You’re clenching your fists even as he reaches for your hand. You didn’t want to look at the disappointed look on his face.

“Hey, look at me. They said we can go home. I’ll cook you a healthy meal or something. Maybe stay in and watch a movie?”

Who were you to argue? You grumbled in compliance and he helped you get off the bed. The car ride home was silent. You could sense his gaze on you every few seconds as if he was making sure you weren’t going to pass out on him again. That bothered you. You didn’t like being looked at as a fragile doll.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble.

“Oh, sorry princess,” Kuroo responds and nervously chuckles.

The silence was deafening and filled with a million unsaid words.

He tries to help you out of the car but you refuse. You walk ahead into the house. The distance between you two is strange. All you wanted to do was embrace him and stay there. You wanted to feel safe because this was scary for you. But how could you expect that of him when all you two have known was the dangers of life?

“Let me take care of you,” Kuroo starts.

You reluctantly fall into his arms.

A few days have passed now and you two have not been going out. Kuroo is very dedicated to keeping your health in top shape. The doctor recommended not eating fatty foods for a while and to get enough exercise so he was avoiding taking you out to eat altogether.

Your conversations only consist of empty words and distant feelings. You felt like a burden and he thought he wasn’t doing enough for you.

“I know we’re not going to be able to have as much fun for a while... or maybe even longer because of my health and I know how much you like to have fun so-”

“Enough with the negative talk! If you have time to think that you should also know how I feel about pessimism,” he says.

That was your first argument in a long time.

The tension and was only growing and you can feel your body being accustomed to the life indoors. It felt normal to not be running about all the time. The days that passed seemed to be much quieter. Kuroo was slowing down for you and you felt guilty because that was never how you envisioned his life to be. Were you being too insecure?

“Say, y/n, how about we go out for a walk? The sun is shining!” Kuroo offers.

He’s never asked to go for a walk before.

“Why can’t we go out and hit the beach or something. We can open the sunroof in your car and just go wild. Wouldn’t that be more like old times?”

You see him shudder at the mention of riding in his car. It was apparent that he was not over the fact that you literally had a heart attack in his car.

“I’m not feeling it today, princess. Lets just chill.”

“What the actual fuck, Kuroo?”

“P-princess?”

“You don’t have to slow down for me. Why are you treating me like I’m not capable of having fun?”

You didn’t know why you were screaming now. Kuroo was just as surprised and his expression showed that he could barely recognize you. The lightheartedness was gone and you two were forced to face the reality that this was real.

But neither of you were ready.

“I’m gonna leave for a bit..” Kuroo murmurs.

“Answer my question!”

The desperation sounded disgusting.

“We need to both relax a bit.”

“To hell with relaxing! Look at me! I’m. still. me. Stop pretending the woman you love disappeared the moment she landed in the hospital!” The tears were overflowing and the cracking of my voice was a pitiful cry.

Kuroo was flinching at your harsh words.

“Maybe you are gone...”

Your voice caught in your throat.

“You don’t mean that. Kuroo look at me.”

“You’ve been pushing me away since the hospital. And I understand. I couldn’t even take care of you that night. You were passed out cold and I had no idea what to do. We’re both always so caught up in the fun we never focused on real life like the tears and pains. I was the one forcing your body to overwork itself and go out all night and... maybe your life would’ve been better without me.”

“This is MY burden to carry, not yours. Why are you giving up so easily?” But I’m whimpering now.

The silence went on for too long.

“Lets just go on a break for a while I don’t know,” Kuroo suggests but you can hear the strain in his voice.

“What... get out. Get out right now,” your voice is soft but deadly.

The sound of the door shutting without the usual goodbye kiss from your ex lover is what broke you. In one second, your had lost everything. Your bottled up emotions immediately erupt. You’re clenching your fists and your tears are streaming down your face. The scream that escaped your mouth was deafening. The pain was real. And the worst part was that the breakup wasn’t the result of lost love, but a punch from reality.

The days that passed were slower, more monotonous. You play the video from that night on your phone. You can hear the cheerful laughs and see the genuine smile on your boyfriend’s face. All was well. But a series of miscommunication and insecurities brought you to where you were.

‘I should call him. I should apologize...’ you thought. This thought pondered your mind for countless days now.

‘If I hadn’t been so insecure of what we had things would’ve worked out. We had something good’

Your checkups to the doctor were lonely.

Your car rides to the grocery store were boring.

Your attempts to imagine the feelings Kuroo once brought out in you were useless.

God you wanted this boy back so badly it was starting to become unbearable.

You were struggling as you got out of the car carrying a few bags of grocery when a large hand extended itself towards you.

You look up to see the familiar black-haired male looking down at you with concern and regret. You started shaking and immediately dropped the bags. Your pride was out the door the moment you saw him and you leaped into his arms. He trembled at your touch but he returned your embrace with just as much intensity.

Once again, there were a million unsaid words, but the silence was comfortable. He releases you and his eyes search for answer within yours.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I-I abandoned you when you needed someone the most!” He cries out.

“Let’s just do what we should’ve done in the first place and talk things out properly,” you decide.

The two of you make your way into the house and you feel him squeeze your hand. He caresses your face with his other hand and you two begin your long conversation about your biggest worries and greatest fears. You talk about the misunderstandings and how you were both so busy living in the moment that you never stopped to think about how your relationship could potentially have doubts and pains.

Eventually, you two have ended up intertwined on the couch. You’re crying silently into his chest and he’s running his hands through your hair while placing soft little kisses on your head. You both lacked balance, but you were willing to rebuild.

“Let me take care of you,” your boyfriend repeated against your hair, “let me be your rock.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out and have fun?” You ask.

You can feel him smile into your hair, “who says we can’t have both, princess?”

And that’s what happened.

You both were more in love than ever. The silence that was once painstakingly heartbreaking was now filled with unconditional love. And you didn’t feel insecure the way you did because you ARE special even without Kuroo.

You step into Kuroo’s car and he’s grinning from ear to ear. The comfortable feeling of the wind blowing in your hair made you feel like you were on top of the world. And the feeling of Kuroo’s hand on your thigh was exhilarating. You look into his eyes and you see the promise that he’s been trying to make since the beginning:

I will love you in sickness and in health.

#haikyuu!!#hq hcs #hq imagines #hq x reader #kuroo tetsurou #reader x haikyuu #currently reading #anime fanfiction #kuroo fluff #hq kuroo #kuroo angst #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x y/n

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rmnamjoons · 5 years ago

Text

The Truth Untold [KNJ]

➳ summary: You’ve been trapped for months in a loveless, toxic relationship, too afraid of what would happen if you ever tried to leave. Your boyfriend gets so jealous, especially of your best friend Namjoon, who you’ve missed more than your heart can stand. Now, seeing Namjoon for the first time in weeks, you decide that it’s time to tell him everything, no matter the cost.

➳ pairing: Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst with a happy ending

➳ word count: 10.1k

➳ tags: best friends to lovers, escaping an abusive relationship, infidelity, best friend namjoon, emotional sex, first time together after secretly being in love with each other for so long, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, seemingly unrequited love, oral (f receiving), praise, squirting, overstimulation, SOFT soft dom namjoon

[read on ao3]

➳ a/n: This oneshot was inspired by everythingoes, mintjoonlep’s fic Safe With Me, and all those tweets that are like “I want Namjoon to fuck the sadness out of me.” There are strong themes of abuse, all of which happens before the plot of this story, so please proceed carefully if this topic is triggering for you.

“You deserve so much better than him.”

Time stood still after the words left Namjoon’s mouth. You watched him take in a deep breath, as if bracing himself, all but flinching away as if expecting you to yell at him or tell him how wrong he was. He grimaced as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to, but you knew he meant those words and his feelings behind them. You’d known Namjoon a long time, and you knew he always meant what he said.

He wasn’t wrong, and that’s what made you suck in a harsh breath, as if punched in the gut by his words. You hadn’t realized your hands were shaking until you tried to run a hand through your hair. You dropped your hands to your lap in an attempt to hide that fact from Namjoon. He was always so observant, though, you figured he’d already noticed. If he was observant enough to realize what a piece of shit your boyfriend Mark was without even knowing about half the things Mark did to you, then surely he noticed something as obvious as your nerves.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon quickly added, and you knew he meant that he was sorry he upset you, not sorry that he meant what he said.

This was your first time seeing Namjoon in weeks. Mark got so jealous, you figured it was better to just avoid an argument than do something to provoke him, like hanging out with your best friend of more than fifteen years who happened to be a man. Mark and Namjoon both didn’t know that you were in love with Namjoon, and you knew that was for the best.

This was the longest you’d ever been apart from Namjoon since first meeting him as a child, and when you’d asked him to come over, you were pretty sure he’d sprinted from his apartment to yours, knocking on your door only ten minutes later, out of breath and nearly breaking a sweat. He’d hugged you so tight the moment you’d opened the door, squeezing so hard your feet left the ground.

“I missed you so much,” he’d murmured against your neck, squeezing even tighter as he spoke. One of his hands had moved up to your hair, resting on the back of your head. “Are you okay?” It had been a long time since you’d felt someone be this gentle with you, or ask you a question like that, free from pretense or selfish motives. You knew Namjoon cared about you, even after so long apart.

His concern, though, made you want to push him away, as backwards as it sounded. You both knew your relationship with Mark wasn’t healthy. Namjoon didn’t know about the time Mark had hit you or how cruel he was or any of that, but he did know that Mark cut you off from your friends and didn’t treat you with the kindness Namjoon felt you deserved. He’d been very vocal about his dislike of Mark from the beginning, and for that you’d pushed him away, falling right into Mark’s trap.

But today, in a moment of clarity after months trapped in the fog, you’d called Namjoon and asked him to come over. You wanted out. You knew that it wasn’t going to get better, that being hit once was a sign of being hit again later on, or worse, and that the sliver of good you sometimes saw in Mark wasn’t worth sticking around for.

You’d told Namjoon most of this, the two of you sitting on your couch together in your tiny little loft apartment, his hands holding yours, his thumbs stroking your skin as you told him almost everything. You avoided the part about being hit, and everything about the awful sex. God, what would Mark do if you tried to leave him? You’d only been with him a few months, but he was possessive. Violent. Controlling. You knew you couldn’t leave without a fight. You didn’t say that, but Namjoon seemed to just know. He always seemed to know what you were feeling, what you needed, just what to say to make you smile.

Namjoon had listened to everything you’d said, and then he’d said it and you’d tensed up, frozen in fear, shock, and some other emotion you didn’t know. His hands holding yours squeezed gently, and you pulled your hands away.

You deserve so much better than him.

You knew he was right, that you deserved better. You didn’t know why his words hit you so hard, though. Maybe it was the full culmination of the last few months, everything you’ve been through with that fucking asshole treating you like an object and a punching bag, suddenly coming down on you like a knife chopping off an infected limb. You opened your mouth as if to breathe, but nothing happened.

“Y/N?” Namjoon said slowly, his deep voice so gentle and caring, as always. You looked up at him as he bit his lip, tilting his head for a better look as he searched your face for your current emotion, concern evident in his warm brown eyes.

As observant as Namjoon was, there was one thing you were always thankful you’d kept from him. You’d been in love with him since the two of you were young, growing up together, dreaming about him every night as you entered puberty and adulthood. He was your best friend, and you were certain that he was the love of your life, and he had no idea. Mark was your first actual boyfriend, the perfect distraction, a rebound for the relationship you’d never had with Namjoon, and it had all turned so horribly wrong so quickly, the excitement and joy decaying into the fear and isolation you now felt.

And now Namjoon was here again, and you’d missed him so much, been apart for far too long, and you still loved him just as much as you ever did. You didn’t even know how many times you’d found yourself laying in bed after Mark had used you, fantasizing about Namjoon bursting in like some Prince Charming, kicking Mark’s ass and carrying you off into the sunset. You’d cried yourself to sleep alone in your bed, imagining Namjoon’s arms around you, his soft lips murmuring into your hair that everything was going to be okay, that he’d protect you and keep you safe forever. You felt pathetic wishing for that, knowing that you should be able to take care of yourself, but it was your only solace on your worst nights. Namjoon was your safe place, your source of hope, your moon in a starless sky.

You’d spent the last few months in your head like that, and now Namjoon was here, hinting at that care and devotion you’d only fantasized about in your darkest, most terrified moments. It was too much for you. He was too much. How had you forgotten what it felt like, to actually be cared for by him, even in just a friendly way, in such a short time? Your face felt too hot, your lungs too tight, your tears overflowing before you realized they were even there.

You took in a shaky breath, and Namjoon’s lips parted, his eyes horrified as if he thought he was the one making you cry. He moved to hug and comfort you, but stopped himself, his hands up as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Joon,” you said, your weak voice breaking as you held in your tears. God, you sounded so pathetic. “I…”

You wanted to tell him everything, the full truth, the entirety of the hell you’d been through, and you wanted him to hold you and never let go. You were scared he’d see you as weak or pathetic or a charity case, but you needed him to know. You needed someone to know, to help you escape, and Namjoon was all you had. You took in a deep breath, holding in your emotions before finally pushing your words out.

“He hit me.”

You focused just on breathing as Namjoon’s face paled, his lips parting and brow furrowing. You saw a thousand emotions play out on his face in an instant, from anger to confusion to fear to something you didn’t recognize.

“When?” he said suddenly, his voice a low growl. Was he angry at you?

You blinked a few times in surprise to his question, a tear escaping on each side from your blinking. “Um,” you started, your throat feeling almost too tight to speak. Your head hurt from all the tension and held-in tears, and from your fear of Namjoon’s reaction to this. “Maybe a month ago.”

Namjoon nodded, setting his jaw in that way he always did when you knew he was deep in thought. You saw his lips quivering, as if he too was just barely holding back his own tears. His face was almost turning red, his expression pained, his eyes showing what you thought might be betrayal. His hand was beside yours on the couch between you, only inches apart. You wanted him to hold your hands again, like he had been before you’d pulled away, but you didn’t want to cling to him.

“Around the last time we saw each other, right?” he said slowly, and you nodded.

“That same day, after I got home from seeing you,” you confirmed, and Namjoon’s jaw set again, eyes red and watering.

“When else? Was it more than once, Y/N?” he said, his voice cracking as he said your name, and you shook your head, sniffling. He let out a sigh, maybe in relief, though you could still see the pain and concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Joon,” you said, your voice cracking too as you finally broke, your tears spilling from you as Namjoon quickly moved to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to him.

He held you like that for you don’t know how long. When you shook, he held you tighter, pulling you into his lap bridal style as the two of you clung to each other, your fists holding onto the front of his shirt like you were afraid he’d slip away from you. His face was buried in your hair, yours against his chest, and he hugged you tighter as you sobbed, your breathing now fast and shallow, your head barely above water.

“It’s you and me, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his deep voice lulling you. “No matter what, I’m with you. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m going to keep you safe.” His eyes squeezed tight as he held you. You could feel his warm breath on your hair, his big arms secured around you.

You hadn’t cried like this in what felt like years. You’d let yourself cry a little sometimes, like in the shower or alone in your bed, but you hadn’t openly wept, especially around another person, since you were a child. As hopeless as you felt, crying this hard felt almost cleansing to you, even as your emotions overwhelmed you. It was like a release, a great flood coming to wash away all of your misery. Even as you gasped and hyperventilated, face red, tears streaming down your cheeks and wetting Namjoon’s shirt where you pressed your face, you realized this was the best you’d felt in weeks. You could express how you felt in a way you’d been too scared to do before now.

Your body shook and Namjoon only held you tighter, as if squeezing his love into you. His large, warm hands were gentle where they laid on you, his arms wrapped so carefully around your small, shaking form. You realized then that he was kissing the top of your head, over and over and over, his soft lips pressing so gently into your hair. You could hear him humming to you, the noise a low rumble, and you found it comforting, your sobs finally breaking as your breathing steadied. You still shook, tears still fell from your eyes, but you took in careful breaths, no longer whimpering or weeping. Namjoon was your rock, and as you hugged him, sniffling and calming yourself down, the storm around you began to pass.

You pulled back from his chest enough to look up at him. Namjoon’s eyes were red, the lines of dried tears running down his cheeks. He parted his lips as the two of you made eye contact, his brown eyes searching yours. You always loved his eyes, how his irises were so dark, they blended in with his pupils. Right now, his expressive eyes looked heartbroken, the pain drawing his eyebrows together.

You’d never been in his lap like this before. Not even when you were innocent kids playing together. His body was so warm, his presence like a fire in a cold, dark cave. Before you realized what you were doing, you raised your hand to his cheek, touching his burning skin, feeling the way he took in a sharp breath at your touch. He was watching you so carefully, not moving or reacting to your hand cupping his cheek, but you saw the way his skin flushed red, felt his heart racing and pulsing where your other hand rested on his chest.

“I love you, Joon,” you said, your confession barely above a whisper. You needed him to know, even if he didn’t feel the same way, even if he misunderstood and thought you were talking about friendship. You needed him to know as badly as you just needed him.

Namjoon’s eyes bored into yours, the molten intensity making you unable to look away as both of you just breathed and looked at each other. Time stood still in that moment, your faces only a few inches apart, his arms still tight around you, your hands resting on his cheek and his heart.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said carefully, looking back and forth between your eyes. His breathing was slow and deliberate, his plush lips parted, and you wanted him to know how badly you needed him. He continued speaking, though, and you held your breath when you heard the first words out of his mouth. “I always have, angel. I love you more than anything, more than life. You’re my everything, and it’s been killing me to be apart from you. I just wanted you to be happy, but now that I know that you aren’t and that he’s hurting you, I’m never letting you go. I promise I’ll keep you safe no matter what. I’ll do whatever you want, just, please, please… please don’t push me away again. Please.”

He teared up again as he pleaded with you, his deep voice almost sounding like just speaking was becoming hard for him as he pushed his words out. His face contorted as if he was in agony while he begged you not to push him away, and you nodded eagerly, attempting to stop yourself from tearing up again, too.

“I won’t, Joonie, I promise. I love you so much. More than just friends.” Those last four words left your lips before you could stop yourself, and Namjoon froze when he heard them. He looked like he was processing what you’d said, turning the words over in his head, calculating and examining the situation from all sides as his wide eyes looked into yours. God, what had you done? You couldn’t even make yourself think of the consequences of him hearing those words, your emotions too exhausted from your tears.

Namjoon leaned in then, slowly, watching for you to pull back or show any other sign of not wanting him close. He leaned in until his forehead touched yours, and you held in a sigh at the thought of him being so close to you, the heat of his skin radiating off of him, his scent that you’d missed more than anything intoxicating you and filling your senses. The tip of his nose nuzzled yours, his warm breath kissing your lips, less than a few inches away now, and you moved your thumb on his cheek, stroking his skin and making his eyes fall closed as he let out a broken sigh.

“I love you too, princess,” he said, making you still your thumb on his skin as you looked at him. “In every way it’s possible to love another person, I love you.”

You took in a deep breath, feeling Namjoon move his hand on your back slowly, his fingers spreading out to touch more of you. His eyes were still closed, his forehead still pressed to yours, and he leaned in to where you cupped his cheek. For a moment you thought he couldn’t possibly mean what he said — it was too unrealistic, that the man you love more than anything felt the same way, that your fantasies had a chance of becoming real. But here he was, saying that, touching you like this, and you wanted so badly to believe him.

“Will you say it again, baby? Please, just once?” he pleaded, opening his eyes to look at you, and you nodded slightly, as best you could with your foreheads still connected.

“I love you, Joonie,” you said. The moment his name left your lips, his mouth connected with yours.

He kissed you like he thought you’d be ripped from his arms at any moment, like this was the only chance he’d ever get to pour his affection into you, to show you how much and how deeply he cared for and loved you. Kissing Namjoon felt like finally being able to breathe after being held underwater far too long. You gasped into his mouth, feeling him as he moved his lips with yours and pulled your body somehow even closer to his, not feeling close enough even like this. He groaned into you, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and you opened your mouth for him when you felt his tongue tracing your lower lip and licking into your mouth. His hand raised to cup your cheek, the other wrapping tighter around you as he kept your body pressed to his. When you moaned into his mouth, he moaned back, like a dialogue, tilting his head to the other side to kiss deeper still.

You could hear the quiet wet noises of his mouth and tongue moving with your lips, the little noises he made as he tried to hold in his moans, the sound of both of you gasping for air in the split seconds between deep kisses, and you wanted more. You wanted to hear these sounds forever. He felt and tasted so good, his touches so perfect, you already knew you’d become addicted.

You shifted in his lap then, moving to straddle his legs as he wrapped both arms around you again. He moaned into your kiss, losing himself, his warm tongue swirling in your mouth as his soft lips still moved with yours. He was better than you ever imagined, his big hands gentle yet firm, his kisses overwhelming you. He was a force of nature — purposeful, cleansing, cathartic — and you let him take you, though you knew you were already his. Now that you knew he felt the same way, you didn’t want him to ever let go of you. You didn’t care about the consequences or what Mark would do to you; you just wanted Namjoon, the love of your life, forever.

You moved your hips against him instinctively, unconsciously grinding down enough to feel his already half-hard erection, and that was what made him pull away.

“We can’t do this,” Namjoon gasped against your lips, moving back just enough to press his forehead to yours again. The two of you breathed in each other’s exhales, lips still almost touching as he spoke. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your emotions. Let’s wait until you’re feeling better, okay?”

“I feel fine,” you murmured to him, nuzzling your nose against his and feeling his whole body tense up. “Please, Joonie. I love you so much.” That was the name you’d called him when you were young, before either of you even knew what this kind of love was. You’d grown up calling him that, and you were the only one who’d ever used that nickname. Hearing it now, when you were in his lap and your lips had just been on his, made him moan, his eyes falling closed as he took in a shaky breath.

“Please,” you begged, your lips tracing his. “I need you. I’ve always needed you.” You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, feeling his grip on your hips tighten for just a pulse. “It’s always been you, Joonie. I’ve always been yours.”

He bit his lip, loving hearing those words from you more than anything in the world. He was trying so hard to be good and honorable, but you didn’t want that. You wanted him, needed him more than anything, and you could tell he was just as worked up as you were.

“Baby, are you sure?” he said. His pupils were blown with lust and bloodshot from his tears, his lips kiss-swollen and red, his honey voice a deep, quiet rumble. “Are you sure you want to… cheat on him? I want you more than anything and I know that he’s terrible, but I don’t want you to rush into anything or do something you’ll regret. You’re in a vulnerable state right now, we shouldn’t…”

Namjoon had hesitated saying the word cheat, and you understood why. You understood all of what he was saying and why he felt this way. Neither of you cared about Mark’s feelings, but Namjoon was still worried. Knowing him, his mind was moving a hundred miles a minute, thinking through every potential outcome to this moment.

“Joon,” you started, desperate now as you grabbed at his shoulders. “I want to cheat on him. I hate him so much. He’s so awful to me, and sex with him is… it hurts, Joonie. It’s all about him, and it’s painful because I’m not into it and he does nothing to change that, and I hate every moment of it.”

Namjoon took in a harsh breath as he listened to that, setting his jaw as if holding in his anger. You knew Namjoon had never been violent or volatile a day in his life, but part of you wondered what he’d do if he ever saw Mark again after today.

“Sometimes, to make it go by faster, or to make it better for me… I think about you, Joon. I imagine it’s you making me feel good instead of him using me. When he leaves, I imagine you holding me as I cry. If that’s cheating, I’ve already been cheating on him for months.”

Namjoon pressed his forehead against yours again as he closed his eyes and breathed in hard, as if holding in a sob and just barely containing his emotions. He hugged you again, squeezing your body to him, and you could feel that he was shaking from what you’d told him.

You felt numb to all the pain you’d been through. None of it mattered anymore, because now Namjoon was here. You trusted him and loved him and knew he’d always be here for you, just like he’d always been, and all that mattered was that you were together. You wanted to be with him, you wanted him to make love to you right now, to take all the sadness and pain and heartbreak away and replace it with his love, the way only he could, and from the way he held you, you suspected he might want the same thing.

“I love you,” he said, and he turned his head and kissed your cheek. Another kiss to your cheekbone, then the skin between your hairline and the corner of your eye, then your temple, and then he was covering that entire side of your face in slow, gentle kisses, bringing his hand up to hold your other cheek as he worked. He was murmuring against your skin between each kiss, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over, so quiet you could barely hear him, never taking his lips off of you fully. You could feel the wetness of his tears, and you took in a shaky breath, holding back your own. You were done crying. You were here with Namjoon, and you knew he’d never bring you pain or tears. You were safe now.

He pressed one final kiss to the center of your cheek, much more firmly than the others, before stilling and resting his forehead against your temple.

“He’s never going to hurt you again, angel,” Namjoon murmured into your skin. “I’m going to take care of you, keep you safe. I’m gonna cover your body in kisses every day, worship you, spoil you rotten like the princess you are. You’re my princess, my baby, my love, my angel, my best friend, my everything. He’ll never touch you ever again, baby, I promise. I’m going to protect you no matter what.”

You nodded with his words, agreeing with him. You wanted that from him more than anything in the world, and his words sounded almost too good to be true. You had to be dreaming, because Namjoon loving you like this seemed so impossible.

You kissed him then, before the mirage could disappear, and Namjoon kissed you back immediately, firmer, more sure of himself now. His hand on your cheek held you perfectly in place as his tongue moved in your mouth again, deeper now as he claimed your mouth as his. Whatever shred of not wanting to push you too far too fast that he had been holding on to melted away as he moved his lips with yours so surely, perfectly, lovingly.

“Make love to me, Joonie. I need you,” you begged against his lips, writhing in his lap as you whined and pouted.

“I will, sweetheart. Every day for the rest of my life,” he said, giving you another firm kiss before you pulled back again. Namjoon’s mouth chased after your lips, not wanting to stop kissing you yet.

“Now,” you whined, not wanting to wait any longer.

Looking between your eyes and your mouth, Namjoon nodded, agreeing with your pleas. “Okay, princess,” he said, his eyes almost dazed from his lust. He scooped you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he stood carefully. His hands held you at your thighs, squeezing to secure you. Out of instinct, you expected that to hurt — it had always hurt when Mark squeezed your thighs. But the pain never came.

Namjoon’s lips never left yours as he stumbled over to your bed, nearly tripping over a pile of clothes and a pillow that had fallen as you’d slept last night. You giggled into his kisses, bracing yourself on his shoulders and holding onto him tighter, until he made it to the bed and sat you down. He laid you back slowly, carefully, and you felt yourself sinking into your plush comforter, your hands and legs never letting go of him where you’d latched on.

Hovering over you, Namjoon moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, his tongue tracing circles over your pulse. His large hands moved down the curves of your body, like a sculptor shaping wet clay, and you moaned for him, right in his ear, and he let out a groan of his own in response to you. You felt and heard him sucking at your skin, tilting his head to get the perfect angle as he worked, and you hoped what he was doing would leave a big obvious hickey. You wanted it to, more than anything. You wanted there to be proof of this happening, for everyone to see.

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of Mark in that moment. However, for the first time in months, you were happy when you thought of him. You pictured the shocked look on his stupid smug face upon finding out that your best friend had fucked you while you were still in a relationship with him. You imagined what he’d say, how he’d react knowing that Namjoon, the man he’d been so jealous of, had come and stolen you away, and you felt yourself smiling at the thought, knowing Namjoon would always keep you safe.

It was petty and childish, but the thrill of having this secret with Namjoon, of being Namjoon’s lover when you were still technically Mark’s girlfriend, was exhilarating. You knew exactly what Namjoon would say to that — that you weren’t his lover or Mark’s girlfriend, you were just you, your own person, but you let yourself have this. You weren’t Mark’s anymore. In opening up to Namjoon emotionally and physically, you defied Mark and his control. You were yours as much as you were Namjoon’s, and you were free.

Namjoon kissed down your neck, suckling and biting at your collarbone as he pulled your loose t-shirt down as much as he could, stretching it against your chest. You brought one hand up to his hair, sighing and closing your eyes as you felt his lips moving on your skin. Everywhere he kissed and licked, he left behind trace amounts of his saliva, goosebumps spreading across your body from the cold air hitting that moisture.

One of his hands moved down to your stomach, his fingers teasing under your shirt but not going any farther than your ribs. His hand was hot to the touch, his whole body burning like a furnace. You could feel the hint of his weight on top of you, though he mostly held himself above your body, careful not to suffocate you. You wanted him to, though. You wanted more.

“Joonie,” you sighed, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. He came back up to your face, cupping your cheek as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“I’m here, princess,” he murmured into your skin, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your cheek.

“Please,” you whined for him, squeezing your legs around him. You knotted your hand in his hair, and he moaned, closing his eyes, apparently loving that feeling. You’d have to keep that in mind.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked you. You were almost too distracted to answer, feeling Namjoon peppering kisses along your cheek while he waited for you.

“Touch me, Joon. Clothes off,” you said, and he didn’t wait for another word. Namjoon sat back between your parted thighs, sitting on his heels as he quickly pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it somewhere behind him. He started messing with his belt buckle, but upon looking up and seeing you just watching him, he smiled.

You were just laying there, legs spread, a lazy smile on your face as you looked up and down his body. You knew that he worked out a lot and focused on his chest, but god, he was too sexy, his chest large and firm, his shoulders wide, his muscles defined. To you, he looked like a protector. The perfect man, the perfect lover, the man of your dreams.

You reached out for him, making grabby hands as he laughed and came back to you, laying on top of you again and letting you run your hands all over him as he covered your face in kisses.

“You’re too cute, baby girl,” he murmured, drawing hearts with the tip of his nose on your cheek. Reaching down, he pulled your shirt up your body, and you shifted, wiggling to help him pull your t-shirt up and off. You weren’t wearing anything underneath it, and the moment Namjoon saw your bare chest, you swore his mouth started watering, his eyes glazing over with lust.

His hands and mouth immediately fell to your breasts, massaging firmly as he took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling as you arched your back and let out a long moan for him. He moaned right back, the vibration of the deep sound spreading through your chest and going straight down to your throbbing clitoris.

��That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, bringing one hand up to rest in his hair, playing with the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck. He sucked and pulled with his teeth, never doing anything too hard or too much, his hand massaging in pulses lazily while his mouth worked so diligently.

He left your breasts then, kissing down your ribs, his hands running down your sides like he was feeling the shape of your body. He kissed your stomach, in a circle around your belly button, making you giggle when he nipped at your hipbones. His breath, his hands, his kisses were all so warm and gentle, you caught yourself closing your eyes and relaxing, never having felt more comfortable around another person.

“Mmm, you’re so soft, princess,” he murmured against your lower stomach, trailing kisses along the waistline of your pajama pants. “Can’t wait to kiss your pretty pussy.”

You moaned at his words, spreading your legs for him further out of instinct. He’d barely touched you yet, and already you were dripping for him, your core tightening around nothing with every press of his full lips and gentle squeeze of his large hands. You needed him so badly, more than you’ve ever needed anything, and you told him that, grabbing his hair with both hands the moment you felt him carefully sliding your pajama pants down your legs.

Namjoon kissed every inch of your skin as it was revealed to him, pressing his lips to your hips, your thighs, your mound over your panties. Once your pants were off, he returned between your legs, placing an open-mouthed kiss right where you were soaking through your thin panties, his lips suctioning and his tongue flicking against the fabric like he was trying to lap up your wetness.

You keened, grabbing hold of his hair with both hands and arching your back as you moaned his name. Nobody had ever done this to you, gone down on you or even hinted at it, but you’d imagined Namjoon doing this to you a hundred times, knowing in your heart that he’d take such good care of you.

Namjoon pressed his tongue against your clitoris through your panties, and you rolled your hips, moving against his mouth as you cried out for him. He kept his tongue pressed there firmly as you moved, groaning as you pulled his hair, and the noise he’d made vibrated against your clit in a way that made you bite your lip and whimper, your body shaking with need.

“Please, Joon,” you moaned, wiggling as you attempted to somehow spread your legs even further for him.

“You’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?” he teased, pressing another kiss against your covered slit.

Namjoon slowly eased your panties down your legs, his hands touching as much of your skin as he could on the way down. His eyes drank you in, his lips parting with every inch of you he took in. And then you were bare before him, your legs spread once again, core soaked and dripping, your wetness making your pussy glisten in the low light of your room, sparkling for him as far as he was concerned. You were the most precious thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, his princess, a goddess he intended to dedicate his life to worshipping at the alter of.

Namjoon was looking at you like you were an angel fallen from heaven, eyes lost in wonder as he looked at your body, and you blushed, biting your lips and covering your face with your hands. You wanted to close your legs under his intense stare — not wanting him to stop, but feeling too shy under his gaze. You felt the bed dip, however, as Namjoon braced himself on one hand beside your head, his other hand taking one of your hands where you covered your face and bringing it up to his mouth, kissing your palm while maintaining unbroken eye contact.

“Y/N,” he murmured, moving your hand he’d just kissed to rest on his cheek. He stroked your hair back out of your face slowly, tilting his head as he just looked at you with a small smile. He moved his hand down to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your bottom lip as he spoke. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess. I’m gonna kiss your sweet little pussy, make love to you with my tongue, hear all the sweet sounds you make for me. Do you want that, pretty girl?”

You whimpered, nodding and biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“I don’t think I heard you, baby,” he teased, leaning in and just barely biting at the roundness of your cheek as you grinned and giggled under him. “Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes, Joonie,” you said, and he pressed one gentle kiss to your cheek before moving back down your body, your legs spreading for him again out of instinct.

Settling in between your legs, Namjoon put both hands on your thighs, his thumbs massaging slow circles as he looked between your face and your wet slit. He sighed happily, a dumb smile on his face, and even just his exhale hitting your wet clitoris had you tensing and biting your lip.

“Are you sensitive, baby?” he cooed before leaning in, breathing through his mouth slowly as he hovered just over your clitoris without touching it. He puckered his lips then, blowing cold air on your clit, and you cried out for him, both hands jumping to his hair and pulling.

“Namjoon,” you moaned, lifting your head and looking down at him. Seeing Namjoon between your legs, his mouth only an inch from where you were willing to beg him to touch you, had you moaning again.

“You smell so good, angel. Your pussy’s so pretty,” Namjoon said, letting you feel the breath of his words against your throbbing clitoris. He was enjoying this, a playful smile on his plush lips, and you decided you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, Joonie. I need you,” you said, tugging on his hair, and you knew that was all it would take to break him. He’d closed his eyes when you’d pulled his hair, biting his lip at the feeling and from being so close to you and hearing you like this.

Namjoon leaned in then without another word, licking a long, wide stripe from entrance to clit. You cried out, attempting to spread your thighs wider for him and lifting your legs, presenting yourself to him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding your legs in place like that up in the air, and licked you again, this time burying his face in between your legs and dipping his tongue inside you, moving his mouth like he was making out with your cunt.

Nobody had ever done anything like this to you. It felt better than you’d ever imagined, and you moaned loudly, louder than you’d ever been during sex, even under your own hand. His lips sucked up your wetness like he was trying to drink you, his tongue diving into your pussy and licking at your walls, fucking in and out of you like he’d promised.

You were certain the tip of his tongue was so deep it circled your cervix, the width of his wet, firm tongue making you squeeze down around him. His lips pressed around your entrance as he tried to move deeper, an obscene wet slurping sound filling the air as he sucked you up. When you pulled his hair, he growled like a territorial animal, burying his face in harder, the tip of his nose pressing against your folds. He was so intense, but every touch, every movement, every swirl of his tongue had you shivering, your back arching as you held onto his hair for your life.

“Joon, that feels so good,” you whimpered, your weak voice nearly unrecognizable to your own ears. “Please don’t stop…” You trailed off with a long moan as he moved up to your clit, sucking it between his soft lips and rolling it lazily with his tongue. He moaned back to you just so you could feel it against your clit, and you swore the sky opened up, the universe stopping as he worked his mouth on you.

One of his hands left your thigh, coming around as he circled your entrance with one fingertip.

“You’re so soft, baby. So wet, so perfect,” Namjoon said against your clit, his fingertip dipping in less than an inch, making you arch your back. You were drawn like a bow, completely in tune with every touch he gave you, desperate for him. You were willing to do anything for him, as long as he kept touching you like this.

“Your pussy tastes so sweet, princess. Better than I ever imagined.” As if to illustrate his point, Namjoon ducked his head again, pressing his tongue to your entrance and licking up along your folds, letting you feel the texture of his tongue as he moved in one slow motion. As he reached your clit, he slid his middle finger into you fully, curling it in a ‘come hither’ motion that had you repeating his name and nearly pulling his hair out.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he said, his deep voice sounding almost strained. He was enjoying this as much as you were, dying with each whimper of his name and tug on his hair. You looked down at him and nodded, pleading him with your eyes, but your head fell back against the mattress as he pulled his finger almost all the way out before sliding it back in again, this time with his ring finger as well. He moved his fingers slowly, seeking out your g-spot and stroking it when he found it, your back arching dramatically up off the bed as you yelled his name. You yanked his hair, pulling his face back against you, and he smiled, kissing your clit where his mouth was now firmly pressed.

“I feel you squeezing my fingers, pretty girl,” he said against your clit, his fingers still stroking so deep inside you. “You’re so tight, I don’t think I’m gonna last when my cock’s finally inside you.”

You figured he was trying to kill you, because he pulled his fingers out, making you whimper for him, only to slide three fingers fully back in, your cry turning into one long, loud moan that almost sounded like his name.

“F-fuck, god, Joon,” you moaned, feeling so wonderfully full and stretched open by him, your walls squeezing down on him so hard you swore you could feel the bumps of his knuckles inside you.

When he brought his mouth back to your clit, sucking on it lightly as his fingers worked, you thought you might die from the pure pleasure he was giving you, your breathing shaky, your legs squeezing around his head until he held one of them down with his free hand. An almost-disgusting wet sloshing sound hit your ears with each curl of his fingers, your wetness covering his hand, soaking him.

“Come all over my fingers, baby. I know you’re so close,” he cooed, and the moment he reattached his lips to your clit and suctioned as hard as he could, you did exactly as he said.

Your orgasm ripped through your body, your pussy squeezing his fingers almost painfully, your legs twitching, a quiet clicking sound escaping from your throat as you tried to breathe but couldn’t, your mouth open in a breathless gasp as your whole body shook. He didn’t stop, moving his fingers and lips steadily as he worked you through your earth-shattering orgasm, moving with you, his mouth attached to you as you writhed under him. You held onto him by his hair, the only thought your mind was capable of holding being how good he felt worshipping you like this, pumping electric pleasure into your body with every curl of his fingers and movement of his wicked tongue.

You released your first breath harshly, a moan escaping you so loudly, you were sure it shook the walls. You cried out when you felt Namjoon pull his fingers away, and cried out again when his mouth went to your entrance, sucking up your release like a man starving. He nuzzled in harder, pressing his whole face against you like he was trying to suffocate himself, his tongue moving inside you and licking at your walls while his lips sucked you clean.

Namjoon moaned into you between his obscene, messy slurps, your legs twitching from intense oversensitivity. He held onto your thighs with both hands, bobbing his head with each movement of your hips as he kept his plush lips attached to your cunt.

“Joonie, too much,” you cried out, and he immediately pulled back, climbing back up your body and hovering over you again, careful to keep his weight off of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, cupping your cheek with one hand while he pressed gentle kisses to the other side of your face, your wetness on his mouth and chin making you giggle and squirm away from him. He held onto you though, kissing your cheek and all over your face anyway, and you squealed in fake-disgust, your adorable laughter music to Namjoon’s ears.

“You did so good for me, baby. My good, precious, beautiful baby girl,” he praised, finally catching you and pressing one firm, wet kiss against your cheek. You smiled, loving being close to him like this. It felt so natural, like you’d done this together a thousand times, not like it was the first time he ever laid between your legs.

“I want you, Joonie. Want you inside me,” you said, reaching up to stroke back his hair where you’d been pulling earlier, now sticking out wildly.

His smile fell, his eyes losing their playfulness as he studied your expression.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he said, taking in a slow breath as he looked back and forth between your eyes. “We don’t have to rush, sweetheart. You don’t have to say or do anything just because you think it’s what I want. I love you and want you more than anything, but I want you to feel comfortable and safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

You reached up and held his face with both hands. You weren’t sure how you’d gotten this lucky, to have such a wonderful man love you. You looked down at his mouth, seeing it glistening from your wetness, his lips slightly swollen from so many kisses. He parted his lips under your stare, watching the way you looked at him, and you leaned in and kissed him, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks as you closed your eyes.

“I want this, Joon,” you murmured against his lips. “If you want me.”

“Of course I want you,” he said, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “I’ll always want you. Always have.”

“Then show me,” you said, reaching down for his belt buckle, fumbling with it between your body and his. “I want you, Joonie. Please. I need you.”

Namjoon kicked off his pants the moment you undid his belt. Now in only his briefs, he pressed himself against your wet core, grinding his erection through the one final layer between you two as he claimed your lips in a deep kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you moaned at that and the feeling of his thick, hard erection, your wet core soaking his briefs.

“Condom?” he said against your mouth, his breathing ragged and hand firm on your hip as he started to let himself get worked up.

“Table,” you said, glancing up to your left at your bedside table. Namjoon reached up, pulling the drawer out quickly in his frantic search, accidentally pulling it out completely and dropping it to the floor in surprise. You giggled, burying your face in against his neck.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, moving off of you and sitting on the side of the bed as he picked up one of the condom wrappers and slid off his briefs.

Your breath nearly caught in your throat when you saw his cock bounce up against his stomach, so hard and needy from his infinite teasing. He’d felt big grinding against you, but god, he was huge. You could see a thick vein wrapping around the underside, the mushroom head dark red from his need. He was decently long, but fuck, Namjoon’s cock was so fucking thick.

“Fuck, Joon, you’re a monster,” you said, and he looked back at you, one eyebrow raised. He smiled when he saw you blatantly staring at his erection, actually blushing in his shyness.

You looked up at his face, swallowing hard. “Is it bad that it turns me on so much, thinking about how you’re better than him in literally every way? And I do mean every way,” you said, glancing down at his cock again, and Namjoon laughed, covering his face with one hand.

“Well, hopefully in a minute, you won’t be thinking about him at all,” Namjoon said, and you couldn’t help biting your lip in anticipation.

“Is that so?” you said, a smug smile teasing at the corners of your lips.

“It is,” he said. He opened the condom packet with his teeth, throwing the wrapper at the broken drawer on the ground and sliding the rubber down his length. Turning back toward you, Namjoon moved to his knees, laying back between your legs that spread and wrapped around him. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, my name will be the only thing you can think of.”

You giggled, finding his words cheesy, even though you knew he was more than capable of keeping his promises. Your laughter died in your throat, though, when you felt him rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, circling it before moving up to rub against your clit.

“Fuck,” you sighed, grabbing at his shoulders, bracing yourself and attempting to pull him closer with your legs.

“Are you ready, baby?” Namjoon said, his beautiful deep voice making your eyes fall closed and thighs spread further as he lined himself up with your entrance. You nodded, but Namjoon touched the tip of his nose to yours, stroking your hair back from your face with the hand of the arm he was bracing himself on. “Tell me out loud, princess.”

“I’m ready, Joon. I want you so bad, I love you, I need—”

He cut you off by pushing in, not even halfway, but the stretch had you crying out and digging your fingernails into his skin.

“F-fuck, god,” Namjoon moaned, pressing his face in against your neck, his breath warm on your skin. You felt yourself squeezing him in pulses completely unconsciously as your pussy adjusted to his thick size, stretching for him, taking him. “Mmm, god, you’re so fucking tight. Your pussy’s so perfect, baby.”

“You’re so big, Joonie. Feels so good,” you said, bringing one hand up to knot in his hair again, just how you now knew he liked it. Namjoon groaned at the feeling and your praise, rocking his hips slowly as he eased into you another inch, pacing himself glacially slow at first as you got used to him. His hand he’d used to line himself up with your entrance was now on your thigh, holding your body to his as he eased in further.

You felt his hips press to yours as he bottomed out, both of you gasping at how tight you were around him. You felt so full, stuffed to the brim; you swore the head of his cock was in your guts. You shifted your hips, attempting to somehow take him even further, but he stilled you, his hands holding your body perfectly still. You realized his breathing was fast, his forehead pressed against your neck, his whole body still as he tried to remain in control and not lose himself too quickly.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, kissing your collarbone. “You take me so well, baby. Feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.”

You stroked his hair, feeling as his breathing drew steadier as he calmed himself down and regained his composure. You could feel yourself and Namjoon both throbbing where your bodies joined, your heartbeats matching up, and you needed him to move.

“Joonie, please,” you sighed, squeezing him with your arms and legs as you tried to roll your hips under him.

Namjoon groaned, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, just hard enough to make your breasts bounce from the movement under Namjoon’s chest. He moved his hand to your back, wrapping his arm around you so that you arched up into him, changing the angle just enough that the next time he rocked his hips, he hit the spot inside you that made you cry out in ecstasy, the same spot he’d left his fingerprints on when fingering you so thoroughly. He chased after that spot, rolling his hips and picking up his pace until you could hear the audible, graphic sounds of skin smacking against wet skin and his cock thrusting so perfectly inside your drenched cunt.

Each time Namjoon entered you, it felt like he was somehow hitting even deeper and harder. You held onto him by his hair, your other hand scratching down his back as you moaned his name in his ear, over and over and over with each of his hard thrusts. He was sweating now, his skin glistening from it, sweat nearly dripping off of him, his hair feeling wet from it, and you wanted to lick him clean. You felt like you could smell his pheromones in the air, released with his sweat, and you swore you’d never been more attracted to him than this moment. He was pure, raw sex. He moaned and growled as he fucked you, holding your body to him, and you grasped at his shoulders, feeling his hot, flushed skin moving under your fingernails, the taut muscles in his back tensing and moving as he worked so hard.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he moaned, his arm wrapped around you pulling you up toward him harder. “I love you so fucking much, Y/N…”

You felt so small under his large, manly body, but in a good way; you felt like he could put you in his pocket, carry you around and keep you safe forever. You loved how sexy he was; his deep voice, his big hands, his large, muscular, sweaty body. You loved hearing him call you his baby, his princess, all the loving names he came up with. You loved how good he was to you, how he treated you with kindness and love and respect and care. He made you feel safe and loved, and he was yours and you were his.

Nothing else existed in this moment besides Namjoon and the pleasure he gave you. The whole universe was just the two of you in your bed, making love, your bodies fusing and becoming one. His hips smacked against yours, and you heard him as he breathed hard, letting out short moans every few thrusts, his breathing muffled against your neck. You were so close again already, your moans becoming desperate, needy pleas, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your mind entering near-delirium as you clawed at his back and pulled his hair so hard it tilted his head back.

His cock had to be hitting your cervix with every hard thrust. You felt him in your guts, his thick girth stretching you out, your thighs burning from your exertion just taking him. He was too fucking good, and you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to the knife’s edge. You’d never felt anything this good, pleasure building up inside you like a dam about to burst.

“Come for me, please, baby. God, please,” Namjoon moaned, and you realized he was begging you, smacking his hips to yours as hard as he could.

Namjoon shifted then, bracing himself on the arm underneath you now and bringing his other hand down to grip your thigh, raising it higher around his waist. He pounded into you, and you came in a silent scream, your body tensing under him as you held onto him, your orgasm so much more intense than your previous, more overwhelming that anything you’d ever felt. Your brain, lungs, and pussy felt like they were being split open in the most wonderful way, your body blooming like a flower under his radiance.

You felt yourself gushing, the feeling unfamiliar, warm, and wet, and Namjoon let out the loudest moan you’d heard from him yet, looking down between your bodies as he kept moving.

“God, are you fucking squirting? Jesus Christ, baby, that’s so fucking hot,” he groaned, his fingertips digging into your skin where he held you.

“What?” you said breathlessly, barely even aware of your surroundings at this point, your brain and body so thoroughly spent. You took in shaky breaths, gasping for air as you came down from your high, and you realized what he’d said and how your pussy was now a fucking flood zone, and you couldn’t make yourself care. You were both covered in his sweat and your cum, the feeling messy and filthy and so fucking good, and Namjoon held you to him so tight as your legs twitched in overstimulation, his pace steady as he chased after his own high.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he groaned, moaning with each whimper you released. “You feel so good, baby. God, you’re so fucking sexy, I’m so close.”

As he continued thrusting into you, you saw flashes of your life with him through the fog of your post-orgasm haze — when your parents used to let you have sleepovers when you were both little, sharing a single bed before it meant anything. Kissing his cheek in the treehouse your father built for you when you were nine, both of you being too shy to ever speak of it again. Sitting on the bus together every day on the way to school, sleeping on his shoulder because you always stayed up too late. Going to prom together when you had nobody else. Cuddling on each other’s dorm beds and watching movies late on school nights. It had always been Namjoon. Loving him was as natural to you as breathing, a choice you’d never had to make yourself, though you knew you’d choose him every time.

You felt his thrusts becoming sloppy, his body shaking as he groaned against your neck, and you knotted your hand in his hair again, squeezing your legs around him. “Joonie,” you called to him, your voice a soft whimper. “Come for me, Joon, I want to feel you.”

Hearing his nickname now made him cry out, his hips bucking as his mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he finally came. He spilled inside the condom, his hips jerking as he tried to keep moving, and you could feel his cock twitching so deep inside you. You wished you could feel the warmth of his seed spreading inside your core, but you knew that step was for another time, somewhere in the long future you had ahead of you.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he groaned between his deep breaths, his hips grinding slowly against yours as he tried to stay inside you as deep as he could. He kissed your cheek, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth as he kept speaking. “I love you, I love you, I love you, forever. Always have, angel. We were made to love each other.”

You pictured for just a split moment the awkward, adorable boy you’d grown up with, now the large, loving, perfect man between your legs, kissing your skin lazily as he just barely held himself up, his body heavy from his post-orgasm exhaustion. After all this time, Namjoon’s body felt like home. You were exactly where you belonged, where you were always meant to be, safe in his arms, sheltered from anything by his love. No matter what happened, you had him. You always had.

#btssmutclub #namjoon smut #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts smut #kim namjoon smut #bts scenario #bts fanfic #my writing

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss and Tell pt3

And a stunning conclusion! If you miss the beginning, you can find it [here] and if you need a refresher pt2 is [here]! Are we ready for some happy endgame Analoceit?

Summary: The number Three is a tricky concept to learn. Virgil walks into a party and tries anyway.

Words: 4778

TW: Cursing

Quick Taglist: @cerberusisspot @never-end1ng-suffering @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

It feels like the start to a joke: Virgil Storm walks into a party and asks to kiss his ex boyfriend. Except that the punchline is Virgil, himself, and its not supposed to be metaphorical.

He picked up a few things from Wit Protect: crippling anxiety, a willpower to hold grudges far longer than an average person, and a healthy dose of masochism.

Because he just had to ask didn’t he? Couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself, couldn’t keep his tongue in his head and the words in his throat and the smile off his own stupid fucking face. There’s something wrong with him, that much is obvious. Because he asked and expected Logan to punch him, expected Dee to kick him, expected all their friends to jump between them and shout at Virgil to get out and go away and never to come back again.

And he still had asked. And waited for that pain that tore deep into his chest and ripped apart his fragile little unlovable heart.

He had asked.

Virgil Storm walks into a party, forgets, for a moment, how to count and asks to kiss his ex boyfriend.

1 + 1 = 2

Logan + Dee = a happy couple

And Virgil had no right to be coming in and ruining that.

(Like he ruined everything else too: ruined Mom and Dad’s marriage as a happy little accident, ruined Dee’s life by just up and leaving without an explanation, ruined the first and second safe locations because he couldn’t remember a stupid name, ruined, ruined, ruined.)

Virgil had come back to town a week before school started. He had been sick the entire week, feeling feverish every time he stepped out of the house. The park had been updated, so the swings that he and Dee had played on as kids were replaced with new ones that didn’t screech when someone used them. The bakery his mom and him used to visit before school was now a coffee shop and the pastries weren’t as good. The old man who ran the grocer in town had a stroke and so his nephew ran the place now.

The Watertower was a new color. The library had a new statue outfront. The paint studio was boarded up.

Their treehouse was decrypted.

Virgil had walked alone with his hood up and he had been terrified of running into someone who remembered him.

He felt like a kid again: keeping his curtains drawn because that meant that no one would come peeking at him to see what he was. Keeping his curtains drawn because he didn’t need any friends.

Keeping his curtains drawn and wishing someone would come anyway.

Last time it had been Dee.

(Dee’s house is different too. Looks like his mother gave up on that vegetable garden.)

Dee who should hate him, Dee who would hate him, Dee who had a perfectly good and fine life without Virgil in it again.

Which Virgil knew, because he had a heart attack when he heard that laughter outside the library, that unforgettable laughter that preened and danced in the air like some kind of fairy to enchant all that heard it. Because he’s heart had stopped when he saw Dee standing there, amidst a group of people, of friends that Virgil didn’t recognize, smiling so very brightly, arms linked together with the others to prove that he belonged with them. Because his heart shattered when he watched Dee lean over and kiss another boy right on the lips.

Virgil Storm walks into a party and wishes he could hate Logan Ackroyd.

But the guy is just...fucking perfect. Its a different kind of perfect than Dee is. Dee is a magician who could make the sadness disappear, who could pull reasons to keep fighting out of his sleeves, who could turn a sniveling pathetic little kid into a lovesick teenager who thought he knew what the hell “forever” meant.

Logan’s not like that. He’s cold hard facts, with no time for those who don’t want to listen. He’s a preacher and Virgil didn’t realize he wanted to be at the front of the audience until its too late. He’s the teacher that makes him write an essay in class and then gives him a fucking gold star because he managed not to fuck it up too bad and somehow Virgil still thinks about it late at night, guiltily enjoying the pleased feeling in his chest.

Virgil wants to hate him, because Logan was everything he wanted to be: smart, collected, happy, with Dee.

He shouldn’t have come back. When Agent DW placed the folders in front of him after his dad’s trail was completed and all the guys trying to kill them had been jailed, and when she had asked him if he wanted to stay in Bumfuck, Wherever with the name Andy, or go back home as Virgil…

Virgil Storm walks into a party and thinks that if he’s ever called Andy again he’ll commit murder and join his father in jail.

Isn’t it strange? Isn’t it awful?

Logan and Dee should hate him. He breaks everything he touches.

Why had he asked to kiss Dee?

Because he knows he doesn’t have a place here, doesn’t deserve a place there. He doesn’t want a place there.

He doesn’t want-- not like this.

Not where Logan has look from the sidelines, or Dee has to watch Virgil take this good, happy thing him and Logan have and crush it. He doesn’t want something like this, if it means one of them ends up in tears.

1 + 1 = 2

That’s what his teachers told him.

Virgil already left once. Virgil already took himself out of a relationship once, removed himself from the problem, erased his own existence from the variables.

Its a word problem and Virgil knows this one well: Logan is the oranges and Dee is the apples and Virgil can pick one, or the other, or none. And even though he’s a Starving African Orphan he knows picking one is going to leave the other to rot away and he won’t-- doesn’t-- fucking can’t--

Maybe it was supposed to be a goodbye kiss? Its a reach, Virgil knows because he’s never been good at goodbyes and he fucked up the only ones he got: a paper note really? A roll of his eyes as his dad was carted away? A two fingered salute to Toby who had still be reeling from the idea that Andy was a work of fiction that he had been hanging out with for seven years?

Dee had deserved a goodbye.

Virgil had put his tongue in his mouth instead.

He’s a masochist (who liked ripping his own heart out again and again and again).

Virgil Storm walks into a party and now he’s still sitting there as reality comes careening back on him, a tsunami to drown him, a bag to suffocate him, a guillotine to decapitate him.

Because Virgil hadn’t thought about consequences and Dee had pushed him away before fleeing the scene and Logan had to sit there and watch. And the world feels like its too small, and the air feels like its too thin and Virgil feels like he just threw himself through a glass window into a freefall waiting for the ground to smash the rest of him to bits.

Dee ran off.

And Virgil is staring at Logan.

Roman is punch drunk out of his mind, laughing as he stares at the billions of pictures he just took. Remus is slung right over Patton wheezing with his joy. Patton has tears streaming down his face and pink cheeks and happiness glowing off him. Emile is trying to spin that stupid bottle and Remy is fighting over it with him.

And not one of them seem to be aware of what just happened. Virgil’s not sure a single one of them could tell him where they are, what their names are, who he just kissed.

But Dee ran off.

And Logan is staring at Virgil.

“I--”

He means this. He means this more than anything. Why can’t he say it? Apologize, damnit.

“Go,” he whispers, not even sure that he can be heard over Remy’s stupid music.

Because Dee ran off and Virgil is here and Virgil isn’t going to make Logan choose like this. In a decision between his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s colossal fuck up of an ex, there isn’t even a choice to be made.

Shouldn’t be a choice to be made.

Logan is blinking at him.

Logan is walking towards him.

Logan is grabbing his hand.

“Come on,” Logan says.

Virgil Storm walks into a party and he’s still trying to figure out how to do math.

Because 1 +1 = 2 and Virgil learned that when he was six fucking years old when Dee had knocked on his door and demanded at Virgil come out and play with him, and then again when he was ten when he was so scared of graduating elementary school and Dee held his hand the whole time, then again when they were twelve and Virgil slammed their lips together while they were in the back of that Movie Theater before he could chicken out.

Dee + Logan + Virgil does not equal 2.

Virgil knows this. He knows that Logan knows this, because he and Logan share their Calculus class and have cursed out their homework together many times. If Logan can do three digit multiplication while drunk, he should be able to see that 3 is more than 2 and one of them needs to go.

Its pick and choose and and and

And Logan’s hand is tight around his, warm like an open flame, and strong like someone who knows what he is doing. Because it is Logan Ackroyd and Virgil’s only known him for a handful of months but he’s the most put together person he’s ever met, the person that never lost sight of what he wanted before, the person who always had a solution.

The person who had invited Virgil to sit with them at lunch and then refused to let it be awkward when everyone else had whispered was that a smart idea, Logan, don’t you know who this is? Don’t you know what he did? Don’t you know what he is to Dee?

Virgil Storm walks into a party and wishes he could tell anyone why he kissed his ex.

But he doesn't know why. The bottle had landed on him and Dee had just looked so smug about getting Logan out of the game and someone had to take him down a notch, didn't they? Someone had to defend Logan's honor?

But wait thats not right, because this was a game and it was fun until Virgil forgot that he left Dee without a warning and then showed back up just to threaten this relationship that he and Logan have. He doesn't have a right to kiss anyone, not Dee, not Logan.

He tries to dig his heels into the carpet, tries to wretch his hand from Logan's, tries to stop the world from spinning so much.

He thinks that maybe the universe is laughing at him. What a ridiculous notion, thinking that Virgil can stop ruination before it comes.

Logan drags him down the halls of Remy's house right after Dee, and finds the bathroom empty with the lights on and the door open and the toilet filled with vomit.

And the window open.

And, oh.

Dee jumped out a window to get away from Virgil, didn’t he?

"Come on," Logan says.

Virgil stumbles after him: back out the bathroom, back down the hall, right past the party and straight for the front door.

"Be Safe!" Patton yells after them (followed by a delighted shriek when Remus presses a multitude of cursory kisses into his neck).

Virgil Storm walks into a party and Logan Ackroyd drags him right out of it.

It seems so stupid, doesn’t it? Logan taking Virgil with him, holding his hand, being a steady center of calm while Virgil just wants to cover his ears hunch his shoulders and scream until the memories of Dee are gone and he stops….fucking… trying to… fucking ruin… This. Them. Here. Now. Whatever.

The city is so big now, bigger than when they were kids: Virgil doesn’t know where Dee would have gone in a disgusted panic, in a horrified frenzy, in whatever it was that Virgil had made him feel. At one point it might have been their fucking treehouse, the movie theater backlot, the icecream aisle of the grocer staring at the stupid fucking popsicles. But Virgil doesn’t know Dee anymore, doesn’t know this town, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Dee could have gone anywhere to get away from him.

Except that he’s just on the ground next to Remy’s mailbox, one hand clutching the grass, the other a fistfull of hair and shaking like all of his bones were trying to leave his skin at once.

Its cold, Virgil realizes a second later. Its cold because its December and they’re outside wearing jeans and T-shirts and not a single coat between the three of them and its night so of course its fucking cold--

Logan plops onto the ground next to Dee, narrowly missing the mailbox and Virgil tumbles down after him.

There are over seven billion people in the world, Virgil knows this, but somehow all he can do is count the ones in front of him.

1, 2, 3.

Dee, Logan, Virgil.

It doesn’t equal 2. Can’t equal 2.

And Virgil still loves the feeling of pain, loves tearing his heart apart, loves watching Logan be soft and Dee be happy because he’s not and won’t ever be necessary for them--

“I--” Virgil says just as Logan cups Dee’s face with one hand. The other is still weaved between Virgil’s fingers like some sort of knot project. Virgil tries to let go-- he does-- but Logan just tightens and squeezes and does not let him let go.

Dee is shaking and crying and Virgil thinks that anyone who ever said that someone is beautiful when they cry is a fucking idiot. There was nothing pretty about see him in the moonlight leaking tears like a garden hose and covered in snot and curling on himself like his own arms are the only things stopping him from shattering apart on the lawn right now. There’s nothing gorgeous about the way his eyes are puffing up and his make up is smearing and his breaths are short and fleeting and fully of incoherent apologies.

There’s nothing heart warming about seeing him sobbing.

“Breathe with me,” Logan commands. “Dee, Inhale with me. One… Two… Three--”

Dee shudders. And tries and tries and tries but every breath is choked and wet and rattling.

And Virgil.

Virgil has no right to be doing this, but he flings his chest against Dee’s back and presses against him because pressure had always been one of the things that Dee liked when he was not-okay. How could Virgil forget, when so many of their days in that treehouse included him and Dee lying on one another musing with each other’s hair or scrolling on their phones or soaking in the silence?

Dee’s breath shudders, stops, and then he inhales. Logan counts steady as a metronome, steady as a time passing, steady as the Earth turning.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2

Dee stops sobbing and his shaking decreases and his hand loosens on his hair just enough for Logan to reach up and untangle his fingers.

“You’re doing good,” Virgil whispers in Dee’s ear, because that’s what he needs to hear isn’t it? That’s what Virgil wished someone would say every time he crammed himself in his closet and willed his lungs to just fucking work when his Mother didn’t know or care or understand what was going on.

Logan counts. Virgil whispers. Dee breathes.

1, 2, 3

Logan’s hands are holding them both. Dee is leaning back against Virgil like he’s the shield between Dee and insanity and Virgil isn’t sure why he’s still there and can’t remember how to leave.

“I think…” Logan starts which is almost comical because when doesn’t he think? “I think we need to talk.”

“Talk,” Dee repeats, hoarsely. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says.

They don’t say anything.

Virgil knows what he needs to do. He knows that he needs to pull back, needs to untangle himself from Logan and stop draping himself over Logan’s boyfriend and go back into the house to get his coat and shoes and maybe a blanket for the other two before he starts that trek back to his apartment. He knows that he needs to go because he doesn’t belong and he needs to call Agent DW and get her to find him another place to live again because-- surprise-- he ruined this one too.

Virgil tries to shift back, but Dee follows him.

“Don’t--” Dee croaks.

Virgil stops moving. Because Dee sounds so fragile, because he never sounds fragile, because its was Dee.

“Please…” Dee whispers, “Please don’t.”

And, well, Virgil is a masochist who hates himself. What other option does he have than to stay and await for the speech of telling off that Logan is preparing?

Virgil’s seen Logan tear into people, he’s seen Logan put people straight, he’s seen Logan stand on tables and slaughter the morons who dared go against him. He and Dee had that in common: their words were weapons and they knew how to use them.

“I--” Virgil says, “I’m--”

Sorry? Not Sorry? Sad? A fuck up?

“Did you mean it?” Logan asks.

And Virgil’s chin is on Dee’s shoulder and the cold breeze blows straight through him.

“Virgil,” Logan says patiently impatient, “Did you mean it when you kissed Dee?”

Virgil knows what he has to say. What he’s supposed to say. What he needs to say.

“It was a goodbye kiss.” “It was an apology.” “It was part of the game.” “It wasn’t meant as anything.” “No, I didn’t.”

“You fucking liar.” Dee growls at him, miserably. (Aren’t they all miserable right now?)

And really what did he expect? Dee knew him better than he knew himself.

“Virgil.” Logan says.

“God, Fucking Shut Up!” Virgil snarls, “Both of you! Shut Up! Stop Asking Me if I Liked Kissing My Ex!”

“Did you?”

“SHUT UP!”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Fuck Your Answer!” Virgil throws back, and maybe its the hysteria talking because his voice is louder than he meant, louder than it should be with the three of them so close they are touching to keep warm. How can Virgil cover his ears and block out the sound of Logan’s accusing voice without pulling away from Dee or letting go of Logan’s hand?

“Why Does Anyone Need an Answer?” Virgil snarls, “What Does it Matter At All? You’ve Got--” He chokes because of course he does. And isn’t that an answer all by itself? “You’ve Got--”

Seven years ago, Virgil had entered Witness Protection with his mother when his father agreed to testify against the “shady organization that promised him big money to help put Virgil through college”. Seven years ago, Agent DW showed up on his doorstep ten minutes before he was set to meet Dee at the bus stop and took his phone from him. Seven whole fucking years ago, Virgil Storm was ripped out of time.

And things are different now: Dee is different, the town is different, life is different.

And Virgil feels like he’s playing the longest game of Catch-Up since Captain America himself. How can he belong when everyone around him is years and miles beyond what he remembers?

“You’ve got each other,” Virgil says, finally, miserably.

Dee can’t turn to look at him, but Virgil can feel the way he’s tensing and closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see the way that Logan is staring at him.

1 + 1 = 2

“What’s wrong with three?”

Three? Its a prime number, its an odd number, its one more than 2? And bad things come in threes don't they? A man, a woman, and the son they didn't want; a treehouse, grape popsicles, and a movie theater that sells overpriced candy; a party, a bottle, and a kiss that's still tingling on Virgil's lips.

So Virg startles a laugh. What else can he do?

(Leave, let go and leave and never come back.)

He blinks back a sting behind his eyes, one he's familiar with-- dontcrydontcrydontcry-- and suddenly right in front of him is Logan.

Logan, whos eyes swim with galaxies in them, who's pale skin drinks in the moonlight and glows like a lighthouse to bring him home, who's voice is a tremor in the night, a general with the power to raze countries. Logan, who's so close Virgil can see through the fog of their breaths and feel his warm exhales on his nose and cheeks.

Virgil breath catches in his throat. He can see each individual eyelash on Logan's face. Surely that must be because Virgil is still clinging to his boyfriend--

"I want to run an experiment," Logan's lips move smoothly, softly, barely more than necessary and Virgil can see his tongue flicking around the alphabet soup of syllables.

Logan leans closer. Virgil stays still, transfixed on those lips, and pressed against Dee's shoulder. This is a mistake, isn't it? Maybe Logan hit his head on the Mailbox and now he thinks Virgil is Dee and he doesn't really mean this at all and they need to take him to the hospital before he dies of bloodlo--

Logan's nose is touching his. "May I?"

And whatever sound Virgil makes is pitiful, and pathetic, and embarrassing, and a "yes, please."

Logan kisses him, is kissing, kissed him. Virgil finds a new meaning in the term "seeing stars" because right then his eyes are dazzled with sparkling diamonds and bursts of colors. It does something to him, makes his heart race and leap into his throat, makes him lurch forward because its not enough, he's not close enough. Logan’s fingers twists around him and Virgil thinks that he should be freezing but his palm is clammy. And his other arm snakes around Dee’s waist before he can even think about what he's doing (does he ever think?).

Logan kissing him, and Dee leaning into his touch and Virgil thinks he died and somehow ended up in heaven.

This--

Oh.

This is 3.

One more than 2.

Virgil Storm walks into a party and somehow ends up kissing his ex’s new boyfriend, too.

Logan's pulls away slowly, like a hesitance, like a regret. Virgil thinks he licks his lips, breathing so warmly, looking so flushed-- flushed? Logan's flushed and shy and soft in a way that Virgil’s never blessed enough to see before.

He coughs, weakly, fakely, and Virgil distantly thinks thats his attempt to regain some form of control. "Well. I believe my hypothesis was correct."

"Nerd," Virgil croaks. "God fucking ner--"

Dee's lips are on his by some magic-like contortion because Dee's back is still pressed into Virgil's chest squeezing all the air from his lungs and last time Virgil checked humans weren't supposed to be able to do that.

"Do shut up," Dee whispers into Virgil's mouth.

Virgil thinks that if he died this isn’t such a bad way to spend his whatever’s-next.

(Dee’s learned new things, Virgil realizes, because he kisses differently now than he had back when they were twelve and so fucking stupid.)

Dee’s mouth moves off Virgil’s lips, dashing across his cheeks and peppering him with featherlight kisses. If Virgil wasn’t so absolutely out of it he might have been annoyed because that was Dee, kissing his fucking freckles and Virgil had worked to hard to cover them with concealer--

Then Dee turns around and drags Logan by his fucking tie into a kiss of their own with Virgil in a front row seat. Virgil’s always enjoyed theater but this is something more: being this close, feelings both of them just inches away-- thats a show he thinks he wants to come back to again and again and again and--

Isn’t that ridiculous? Isn’t that insane?

A week ago, a day ago, twenty minutes ago, this sight would have Virgil’s heart shattering right down the middle and stomping on the pieces and crying because even though it hurt like fucking hell this is what he wanted for them: he wanted Dee and Logan to be happy and safe and, and, and yeah he wanted them to be together too.

But right here, right now? He’s a part of this, and his heart does this stupid- fucking- jump thing when he watches them and his jaw hurts because he’s smiling so damn wide.

God, when was the last time he smiled like this?

He’s feeling some stupid emotion and its so nice and warm and safe that he doesn’t think he can even describe it with actual words (he’s always been a math person anyway). How does anyone describe this feather-fragile feeling, this cocktail of emotions, this atomic bomb of Need that causes him to hold on to all of this when he knows every other person he knows would tell him to let go?

This is something breakable.

And Virgil doesn’t know if it will be him that breaks or if it will be this… thing that he thinks came out of nowhere.

But he’s a masochist and he wants to find out.

“So,” Logan says between gasps for air, “Three?”

Dee laughs and blows a column of white condensation into the air. “Three, definitely.”

1 + 1 + 1 =/= 2

Virgil always thought that math was overrated anyway.

“Three,” Virgil says and it tastes like grape popsicles. Isn’t that weird? Virgil hasn’t had grape popsicles since that summer seven years ago. He misses that taste.

He sends a squeeze to Logan’s hand and Logan squeezes back. He hums into Dee’s neck and Dee laughs like he’s going to cry. Its the three of them together and who would have thought this day would come?

“Uh…” A fourth voice speaks up and Virgil squints up into the yellowed flashlight that’s rolling over the three of them. Its a guy-- must be one of the neighbors, though who knows why he’s out so late at night. “You three okay? I heard some yelling earlier....”

Virgil laughs at him, at them, at the universe. Dee’s shaking, too, something wonderful to learn and feel next to his heart.

“Should I take that as a no?” The man asks.

“Uh, no, Mr. Sanders,” Logan says but he’s grinning like he just achieved immortality. “I mean, yes! But not like--”

“I kissed two boys,” Virgil says, “And I really like them both.”

“Moron,” Dee laughs again.

The man, Concerned Neighbor, Mr. Sanders, looks somewhere between amused and confused. He shifts his weight, glancing beyond them, towards the house. (And Virgil doesn’t need to turn to know that fucking Remy is watching them from the windows.)

"Well you three should get back inside," the Concerned Neighbor says and Virgil gets the feeling he should be embarrassed, but honestly? Who gives a fuck? "Its cold out here."

Right.

Because its the end of December and its nearly ten oclock and jackets were quite literally the last thing on any of their minds.

Oh god what if they got pneumonia from this?

“Unlikely,” Logan says, straightening his tie. “Most likely one of us will contract a common head cold and then transmit it to the other two through an abundance of close proximity to each other.”

“Yes and that sounds completely awful,” Dee says wriggling around as he tries to get up. Virgil lets him go briefly, but snags the back of Dee’s neck before he can go too far. Dee squeaks in a way that is adorable.

“STORM! You fucker! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” Dee bucks away and punches him in the shoulder before sprinting toward the door with a sharp little smile on his face.

And Virgil runs after him, pulling Logan along because he doesn’t want to let go at all. Its ridiculous. Its silly and hilarious and laughable and, and, and.

And they catch up to Dee right on the door step, bathed in the multicolored lights of the party where Logan gets a chance to snag Dee in a hug and Virgil--

Virgil Storm walks into a party and gets to tell everyone how he kissed both his boyfriends.

#analoceit #sanders sides #Kiss and Tell #virgil sanders #symapthetic deceit #Deceit Sanders #logan sanders #tw cursing #anxceit #loceit #analogical #kissing #Just let the boys be happy #Hmmm might make more for this au #stay tuned #happy ending

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