#where I live the streets get crowded with people going for drinks with dates and with friends and I’m just roaming the earth alone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

probably-writing-x · 2 years ago

Text

Armour - Chapter Four

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, I think that’s everything <3 Oh, and hella slowburn, I’m sorry y’all

Author’s Note: I love this chapter and I hope you guys do too <3 Once again, inspired by this gif (:

London wasn’t like it looked in the pictures - all of the tourist attractions were constantly flooded with people that didn’t walk fast enough, there was no use walking or driving anywhere when the tube existed, people were constantly using their phones on the street and not looking where they were going, and everything was expensive. But you somehow loved it. It was the complete opposite life to living in the Outer Banks. There was constantly something to do, always places open, always new faces on the streets. It was refreshing. You were a little fish in a big pond here - no longer outgrowing your surroundings.

You’d spoken to Sarah a fair bit in the few weeks since you’d been here, but still nothing from Rafe. You weren’t even sure if he knew you’d moved - and it was now over a month since the two of you had spoken at all. If you thought about it for too long, your heart ached for him to come back to you. And the way to cope with that? Not thinking about it.

Instead, you were going on your first date today since splitting up with James. It was a guy you’d met at the supermarket the week before as you’d asked him where to find the eggs, and he’d offered to help only in exchange for your number. You’d declined at first but he’d found you at the checkout and slipped his own number into your hand - telling you that if you ever changed your mind, he was a text away. It was after one too many glasses of wine that night that you’d decided to call him. He’d picked up instantly and laughed at your voice on the other end, telling you that he’d only accept your offer for a date if you also agreed on it sober. You’d texted him the following morning and that’s when the two of you had set up this date. His name was Oscar and he shared no resemblance to James - that was all you needed to know for now.

Within the hour, you were walking towards the bar he’d suggested that you meet at on one of the busy streets opposite one of the theatres - you were yet to get used to everything in this city but you mildly recognised the street. He’s leaning up against a wall waiting for you when you approach.

“(Y/N)!” Oscar smiles, his eyes lighting up behind the thin frames of his round glasses, “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show!”

“I’m sorry, I’m still getting used to eastbound and westbound on the tube,” You comment, tucking your hair behind your ear, “I promise I wasn’t trying to be late.”

“I’ll believe you,” He chuckles, gesturing a hand towards the door to the bar, “After you.”

It’s already pretty busy in there by the time you get in and you find yourself met with a shifting wall of bodies near the door. You feel Oscar’s hand rest on your back, high enough up that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, as he guides you through the crowd, his frame just taller than you. And you reach the bar eventually as if you’ve broken into a clearing.

“Here, there’s a table by there, do you want to grab it?” He offers, “I’ll get you a drink, what do you fancy?”

“I’ll have a vodka lime please,” You return, heading over to the table and sitting down on one of the elevated stools with your bag resting on your lap, glancing around the room.

You could do this. Your first date in almost a decade. Easy. Right?

Oscar comes over soon after with two glasses, one with your drink and one with a pint that almost spills over the top.

“Okay, so, tell me about yourself (Y/N), what made you come to London?” He asks as he sits down opposite you, his eyes focused on you as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Um, that’s a bit of a long story,” You laugh awkwardly, “But I guess it’s a good place to start.”

You’re five drinks in and three hours through before you start to realise that the alcohol is hitting you a little. You’d explained to Oscar that you’d moved here temporarily to get away from home for a while and he’d laughed and told you that nobody should move to London to escape home. He told you that he worked in the supermarket as his second job because he was saving to buy a house, and he was currently flat-sharing with a guy that was learning the drums and so his apartment wasn’t the best place to be. He told you his favourite restaurants in London and gasped when you said you hadn’t been. He said he’d love to go to America some time and you promised him there wasn’t much around you that he was missing, even if it was paradise on earth in the Outer Banks.

“Okay, so, the bar is about to close,” Oscar comments, “We better get out of here.”

You nod and push yourself to stand up from your chair, bag slung over your arm as you follow behind Oscar out of the bar.

The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside - the weather being another thing you weren’t completely used to from being here.

“Are you going to be able to get home okay?” He frowns, “Let me grab you a cab.”

“No, I’ll be okay,” You nod, “It’s only a few stops on the tube away.”

“Exactly, so it won’t be much in a taxi either,” He points out, waving down a taxi that pulls in at the side of the road next to you.

You smile and turn to open the door but he stops your hand.

“So, I had fun tonight (Y/N),” Oscar comments, “Maybe next time i can take you to more of the places you’re missing out on in London.”

“That would be great,” You encourage, “Thank you.”

You’re certain there’s a look in his eye that makes you think he wants to kiss you. But you ignore it, opening the cab door and stepping inside. You watch as Oscar hands over a couple of notes to the driver and hits the top of the cab before you start to drive away, telling the driver your temporary address as he starts travelling the streets to get there.

You pull your phone out of your bag and find yourself scrolling through your contact, passing by each of the names until you get to the ‘R’s. You swallow the lump in your throat as you stare at the name on your screen, staring at it until the letters seem to blur in front of you and the alcohol seems to course through your system enough that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

The car eventually comes to a halt and you climb out with a quiet ‘thank you’ to the man before he leaves. Your temporary apartment building stands tall in front of you but you don’t go inside, instead dropping yourself down to sit on one of the few steps leading up to the door, the stone too cold beneath you.

The phone rings but you can still only hear the blood in your ears, the way it seems to pulse in your entire body, increasing in the way you shiver against the cold. But when you hear the crackle of the call being picked up, you’re sure it forces a surge of heat through you.

“(Y/N)?” Rafe’s voice begins on the other end of the line.

“Rafe,” You hiccup, the word catching on your tongue.

“(Y/N)? Is everything okay?” You can practically hear the frown in his words, the way he would stop in his tracks with the worry that flurries it’s way through him.

“I went on a date tonight,” You mumble, “A first date.”

“You did?” You’re not sure of the tone this time, somewhere between concern and disappointment.

“His name is Oscar.”

“Oscar? At home? I don’t think I know him,” Rafe returns, “Is he new?”

“He’s from London,” You half-giggle, “I moved.”

“Wh- what are you talking about (Y/L/N)?” You can hear the increasing concern in his tone, “Is Sarah there?”

“Sarah’s at home,” You swallow, “I’m not.”

“What time is it where you are?” Rafe says, “Wh- what time does it say on your phone?”

You pull the phone away from your ear and glance at the bright light in front of you, “zero zero twenty six.”

It’s as if you can feel the realisation wash over him, as it settles in the digital connection between you, in the way your voice cuts out in the distance.

“You’re in London.”

“You know, I keep telling people it was to get away from James,” You practically wince over the words, “But it was your fault too.”

“(Y/N) I-“

“You and your big city life, with your big city job. You think you’ve outgrown home, you’ve outgrown me,” You’re practically tumbling over your words but you don’t stop, confident that the best thing you can do is let them out now before you bottle them up forever, “And that’s it. You left and went back to the city and you left me. And you weren’t even going to say goodbye. And that’s really shitty Rafe.”

“You knew I’d have to leave eventually (Y/N) I-“

“Why did you leave in the first place?” You hiccup again, “Why did you go to New York?”

“We’ll talk about this another time (Y/N) I-“

“Why?” You can hear the tremble in your own words, the way your bottom lip quivers.

“Because there was no point in staying if you weren’t going to be there.”

You feel the chill sweep over you again, your limbs feeling numb around you, your head seemingly twirling the world in front of you. But your ears are yet to lose focus, as each of your other senses slips away from you, all you can focus on is hearing him.

“Because you’re waiting for me to come home,” You mumble the words so quietly that they dissipate before getting the chance to transfer through the phone to him.

“(Y/N)? Are you still there?” He proceeds, “Are you safe? Do you have somewhere to stay?”

You don’t respond.

“(Y/L/N) come on, throw me a bone here.”

“I’m outside my apartment,” You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Okay can you go inside, please?” Rafe proceeds, “And can you stay on the phone until you’re inside too?”

You push yourself to stand from the stairs, turn around and stumble a little to the door, push your key in and go through to where the elevators are waiting. The whole time, neither you or Rafe utter a single word to each other. But you know he’s there. And he knows you are too.

Eventually, you reach your apartment and push the door open, and the sound of it closing behind you is what makes Rafe speak again.

“You’re okay? You’re safe?”

“Those are two different questions,” You mumble, flopping down onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

He laughs a little, “Okay, so I know you’re safe. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t want him to kiss me,” You mumble, staring at the paint around the edges of the ceiling where it has dripped a little onto the walls.

“You didn’t what?”

“I thought he was going to kiss me when we left, and he didn’t but I just know I didn’t want him to,” You hiccup once more, “He was nice and he was funny and he laughed at my jokes and he listened to me and he asked questions and he was handsome but… I didn’t want him to kiss me.”

“Well, why not?”

You’re silent.

“(Y/N)?”

Somewhere between his words and the comfort of the couch, you find yourself drifting to sleep, the phone hanging in your hand until it eventually drops against the cushioning of the rug on the floor.

A thousand miles away, from his apartment in New York, Rafe doesn’t hang up. He potters around the kitchen fixing together a dinner from what he had left in the cupboards, pours himself a water, sits down with a bowl of food and lets himself scroll through Netflix to find what to watch. He lets an entire hour pass by with you on the other end of the phone - still no response. But there’s a weird comfort in it. Like he likes the feeling of you being there, even though you were completely absent. And part of him dreads the thought of you waking up in a city away from home, on your own, in a place that didn’t feel like yours. He dreads the thought because he knows how it feels - he knows it from every morning that he’s woken up here.

After an hour passes, he hangs up, letting his eyes stare at your name on his phone as if he had to convince himself you had been there. That, in a moment when all of your inhibitions were lowered, all of your barriers lowered, it had been him you’d wanted to call.

~~~

The following morning, you wake up with eyes heavy and your back aching from how you’d slept across the couch. You groan and reach a hand around on the floor until it finds your phone, pulling the screen up above your face to read through the notifications. Amongst the unimportant messages, there were two that seemed to matter.

Oscar: Last night was fun x Let me know when you fancy exploring more of London

Rafe: You didn’t say anything bad, I promise

Your mind focuses on the latter for longer than it should do, seven words that felt like the most connection you’d had with him since that night you’d gone swimming. You remembered the call from last night - though as much as you remembered it, it didn’t mean that you didn’t wish you hadn’t done it. Sober you wouldn’t have called him, or spoken to him about your date, or even told him about London. But drunk you had done exactly that. You’d ignored every single one of the mental blocks you’d put between you and Rafe. Because in that moment, you needed him.

You lock your phone once again and set it down onto the coffee table of your apartment, pushing yourself up from the couch. You take off last night’s makeup, shower until it feels like your skin couldn’t be scrubbed any cleaner, and let your damp hair fall in locks around your shoulders, wrapping a robe around yourself and flopping back onto the couch. Today could just be one of those days.

It’s not long after you’ve settled into your fifth episode of the office that your phone starts to ring from the coffee table, buzzing so much against the surface that it starts to move just slightly as if it is being drawn towards you. It is Rafe’s name that pops up on screen and you feel a sinking feeling in your chest at the thought of it.

But you answer anyway.

“Morning sunshine,” He begins brightly on the other end of the phone, “What’s the time over there?”

You pull the phone away from your ear to look at the screen, “It’s 11 in the morning.”

“Right, yeah, five hours difference, I’ll remember now,” Rafe continues nonchalantly, “It’s 6 here so I just woke up.”

“What are you doing?” You frown against the screen, reaching a hand over to pause the episode on an awkward freeze-frame of Dwight’s face.

“Well, I’m going to the gym first, and then I’m heading into work at nine, but I’ve got a half day today so I’ll be done before two,” He explains, “What’s your plan for the day?”

“I don-“ You clear your throat, “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t miss a beat as he says, “I’m calling you. Is that allowed?”

You feel your heart flutter just a little, the way it seems to push against your chest like it’s begging to be released, “Of course it’s allowed.”

“There we go then.”

“But why are you calling me?”

He pauses for just a moment on the other end of the call, “Because (Y/N) you’re living on the other side of the world, so I’ve got to make sure I’m at least checking up on you, you know?”

It’s easier to say yes than to question him more, it’s easier to accept it now than to listen to him come up with other roundabout excuses for why he was on the phone to you almost seconds after his alarm had woken him up.

“So, I’ll ask again, what are you doing today?”

You explain to him that you planned on doing absolutely nothing today and he tells you to at least get out of your apartment, that you’d regret missing a day of London as soon as it came to when you’d have to leave, and he says that’s the exact mindset he has about New York - though he has no plans to leave there and you’d gladly stay in London without thoughts of going back, but neither of you mention that. Rafe doesn’t mention last night, he knows with you it’s easier to avoid the topic. Though he can just imagine the way your cheeks would flush as the mention of your embarrassment, or the way you’d look away from him instantly as if the thought of his eyes on you was enough to stir your stomach. He smiles at the thought as you explain to him how you’ve already struggled with how they say things differently over here.

When he’s getting ready, he sets his phone on speaker so that he can talk to you whilst he’s brushing his teeth, and you do the same as you’re boiling the kettle for a cup of coffee. He tells you he’ll pick a coffee up on his way back from the gym and you recite his order before he has a chance to tell you what he’s getting - though he’s switched to decaff recently because the guys in his office tell him that caffeine is terrible for you. You tell him that New York has changed him. He laughs and you hold onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay, so, I need to go before I just end up skipping the gym completely, but I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“Okay.”

He hangs up after that final word and your heart sinks just a little, like an odd piece is missing. But it dawns on you then and you feel your heart rise and swell once again - he never said goodbye.

~~~

You go about the rest of the day oddly more productive than you’d expected to be. You tidy up the apartment, go grocery shopping despite feeling completely lost in comparison to the tiny shops you were used to at home, and then come back to your apartment to plan out what things you wanted to do in London whilst you were here. You were yet to reply to Oscar’s message but what was there to say? He was a lovely guy, he was funny and genuine and polite and interesting and everything else. But you just didn’t feel like you had the words to respond, or at least not the ones he’d be wanting. So for now, you’d leave the response empty.

By the time evening rolls around, you fix up some pasta from the groceries you’d bought today and click on a film to watch on Netflix, not paying much attention to it as the scenes play out. Instead, it strangely feels like you’re waiting for the inevitable that you’d not even realised you should be waiting for. But when your phone lights up with an incoming call, you reach for it before your instincts can stop you.

“Hello again,” Rafe speaks on the other end of the phone, “How’s your day been?”

“Hey, pretty good thanks, I’ve been looking at a bunch of things I want to do whilst I’m here,” You nod, setting him down on speaker beside you, “How was work?”

“Not bad, nothing exciting,” He says, “This city loses it’s excitement a bit when you’re working here every day.”

You’re both silent.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?” You ask, turning your fork around in the bowl in front of you.

“Always.”

“What’s going on here?” You clear the lump from your throat, “Like, what are we doing?”

“I’m calling you. We had this conversation this morning.”

He says it so simply, so flippantly, but he speaks again before you get the chance to prompt him into it. Rafe had a habit of answering your questions before you’d asked them.

“I spent the longest time I’ve spent with you in years when I was home. And it made me realise that I miss you,” You can hear the certainty in his voice, “And this whole time I was thinking ‘it’s fine because she’s home and I can go back to her’. And then you call me last night and all of a sudden you’re on a whole other continent.”

“I just ha-“

“And last night you told me that it was my fault. Why?”

You don’t respond.

“When we were with each other the other week, it felt like the old us. And I don’t want to lose that.”

“I don’t want to lose it either,” You whisper, the sound barely audible over the speaker of your phone.

“But the old me was in love with you.”

The words hit you like a knock to the chest, all air seemingly escaping from your grasp. Your hands feel numb in front of you, like they no longer belong to your body. And, soon, your entire body doesn’t feel like your own - only your heart and your head racing to keep up with each other, the only parts of you that felt like they could function. The words seemed to float into the space in front of you, contorting themselves until they could practically engrain onto your mind, carving out their place to silence the other buzzing thoughts.

“And this new me is too,” Rafe continues, “I always have been.”

Despite his confession seeming to settle into realisation, you still can’t find any words to say - anything that would be right for the moment, anyway.

“(Y/N), I’m not expecting you to tell me you feel the same and fly back here or anything. In fact, I don’t want you to do any of that. You just got out of a long relationship, and I don’t want to be just… filling a space,” He clears his throat, “But, if you do feel the same, I want you to be ready. I want you to want to fall in love with me, and want to be with me.”

Still no words.

“I’ve waited a decade already, I can wait again. And I will. I’ll wait for you to come home, like always.”

You don’t realise that you’re crying until the tears fall down onto the phone screen, that had now found place in your hands, food discarded onto the coffee table. The tear falls and hits the glass, trailing down towards the red button to end the call. You watch it move, the way its path dips as if contorting around the flat screen.

“You gotta say something now, (Y/L/N).”

“I don’t-“ You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

You can practically feel the defeat through the phone, picturing the way his hands would lose their strength just a little and his shoulders drop, settling like a weight had just fell from above.

“Okay,” You manage to croak through the tears now coating your cheeks.

“Okay?” The slightest glimpse of hope in his voice.

“Okay, we’ll wait,” You laugh a little, “We didn’t work when we lived on the same island, or even in the same country, maybe different continents will be good for us.”

He chuckles softly and you can tell he’s close to tears too, “Yeah, maybe. Who cares about a time difference? Five hours is nothing.”

“You know, it would’ve been better if you’d told me all this when we were both home.”

“No,” Rafe dismisses, “I think you’re wrong. You need the time, and the space, and whatever else it is that’s going to let you fully move on from what’s happened with James - and I can’t do that for you. But I can sure as hell wait around until you’re ready.”

“Okay, so, we wait,” You confirm, your words feeling more certain now.

“We wait,” Rafe says and you can imagine the smile spreading onto his lips at the words, “So, what are you doing tonight?”

~~~

The next ten days you feel like you’re never not talking to Rafe. Whether it’s a text in the morning, a call on his lunch-break, or a facetime when you’re both home in the evening, you were always speaking to him. He’d started telling you gossip about the people he worked with - who he liked and who he hated. You’d send him photos of everything stupid that you saw in London - like the ugly pigeons in Leicester Square, or the guy dressed up as a Transformer that you’d seen at a cafe in Covent Carden. He told you what book he was reading and you’d bought the same one from a shop on your walk home. You told him you fancied sushi one night and both of you ordered it for dinner one day, eating it on facetime whilst you tried to sync up the film you were both watching.

Rafe was sure he’d never felt content like he did now. He started appreciating the little things so that he could send them to you, started remembering things more so that he could tell you about them later. Sure, he woke up a few hours earlier than normal and ate earlier so that he could match your schedule a bit better - but they were easy sacrifices. And it was true, he’d never been happier than this.

“What’s got you so happy?” Mikey, one of the young guys from his office, walks into the break room as Rafe is stirring a spoon aimlessly around the cup of coffee.

He hadn’t realised he’d been smiling.

“What’s not to love?” Rafe jokes, shrugging his shoulders.

“Are you kidding? We’re drowning in work out there,” Mikey scoffs, hitting him on the arm, “Seriously man, what is it?”

Before Rafe can respond, his phone flashes up on the countertop with a message from you, and another, and another.

“Ohhhhh,” Mikey raises his brows, “Who’s the girl?”

Rafe smirks, he’d tell you about this later.

“It’s (Y/N),” He says so casually, certain that his heart would still always somersault at the sound of your name.

“The chick from home?”

“Come on, chick?” Rafe scoffs, “Are you twelve?”

“So, what’s so good about her? She’s like five hundred miles away surely?”

Rafe looks down at his feet and smiles just a little, “(Y/N)’s in London, actually.”

“London?” Mikey laughs loudly, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Rafe bites at the inside of his cheek and shakes his head, “Nope, not kidding. London. So more like three thousand miles away.”

“Fucking hell,” Mikey shakes his head, clasping Rafe on the shoulder, “There isn’t a single girl in the world that’s worth three thousand miles, trust me.”

Rafe forces a smile in his direction and looks back down at his shoes, the ones you’d said made him look like a real New York commuter when you’d seen them on facetime the other day. His lips part and he laughs a little before glancing back at Mikey, his jaw tilting his head slightly like he was even more sure of himself as he responds;

“(Y/N)? She’s always worth it, trust me.”

With that, he picks up his phone, coffee cup in the other hand, and pushes his way through the door and back down the corridor towards his office. When he’s inside, he takes the first opportunity to call you, the few taps on his screen feeling like second nature by now.

You pick up on the second ring.

“Rafe Cameron are you slacking off?” You say instantly, “This isn’t your lunch break.”

“No, no it’s not,” Rafe laughs gently, the phone feeling hot pressed against his skin, “I just-“

He doesn’t say anything then.

“Rafe? Everything okay?” You chuckle just a little but he can tell it’s injected with nerves, a sort of uncertainty.

“I just-“ He scoffs, scratching at the back of his neck as he leans back in his seat, “I just called to tell you I love you.”

“You wh-“

“I love you,” He repeats, “I told you I was in love with you but I’ve never properly said it and I had to say it.”

“Rafe I lo-“

“Wait!” He cuts in quickly, staring down at a little aeroplane toy on his desk that one of his colleagues’ sons had given him, he envisions it flying up and out of the office, crossing the atlantic until it landed at your door.

“Wait?”

“Don’t say it back now,” He shakes his head, “Wait until I see you.”

———

Taglist: @viianey @baby19sthings @tsokaro @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starkeylover @kylianswag @eggingamazinglove @allsmilesreally7 @m-indkiller

228 notes · View notes

gmariam321 · 2 months ago

Text

I really do want to finish this, but keep hitting little road blocks. I know the big picture but struggle to move past single scenes here and there. I'm also still not sure how far to take that big picture endgame. Here's how it starts, though! If it looks familiar, I'm pretty sure I've posted it before. Enjoy and wish me luck finishing the damn thing!

The Wooden Torch - Chapter One

Ianto Jones was glad to be back in Wales and living in Cardiff. He'd left to get away from it all—from his father and his family and all the other problems he'd had growing up on the estates—and was surprised to find he enjoyed being back. He felt a connection he hadn't felt before and suspected there would be no going back to his life in London. The city had been great until it had become a bitter disappointment, but now he wanted a new start, a second chance to find what he was looking for in life.

The problem was, he wasn't sure what he was looking for.

In the meantime, he floated between a few part-time jobs, barely making ends meet, until the night he walked into the Wooden Torch, a pub a few streets down from the flat he was renting in Radyr. Something felt different about the place, something comfortable. It was a well-regarded pub with a good crowd of locals, and they welcomed him almost immediately. He felt like he fit in, and within a fortnight he was their new barman.

He'd had no experience with bar work, but he was a quick learner, and after a few weeks on the job, Ianto felt surprisingly settled with his spontaneous decision. He'd been a personal assistant in London and helping people was in his nature; instead of coffee and files, now he served pints and conversation. He still had to look up a few drinks, but he'd learned most of the regulars' names and could banter with the best of them. He'd cleaned up a drunken mess, broken up a fight, and called a taxi for a hen party trying to hit on him. And in spite of all that, and the long, late hours, he found himself enjoying it. It felt right at that moment in his life, like he was where he was supposed to be.

Alex Hopkins owned the pub and ran it fairly and efficiently, keeping it clean and up to date. The other bar staff were all about Ianto's age, give or take a few years, friendly and hard-working. He liked his fellow bar worker, Toshiko Sato, immediately. She had also moved from London, and like him, she'd had left the city for personal reasons. They bonded almost instantly over their mutual disappointments, and also shared an interest in technology: Ianto had worked in the field, Tosh had a degree in it.

About two weeks after he started, Ianto was wiping down the bar when he heard a commotion at the door. A tall man in an old-fashioned military coat walked in and several people went to great him, including Tosh and Alex. The new man was grinning as he greeted everyone, waving like a film star on the red carpet. Ianto watched from behind the bar, wondering what the excitement was all about. He held back an eye roll at the man's gregariousness and continued cleaning up.

"Hello, and who are you?" asked a voice from the other side. It was the man in the great coat. Up close, Ianto noticed immediately that the man was exceptionally handsome, with a broad smile and deep blue eyes. He stared for a moment, then shook his head and blinked. Ianto had seen plenty of beautiful men and women come through the door of the Wooden Torch since he'd started; this man wasn't any different and certainly no one to embarrass himself over.

Before he could open his mouth to reply, Alex was introducing him. "Stop it, Jack. This is Ianto Jones, he joined us while you were gone. Ianto, this is—"

"Captain Jack Harkness," the man said, holding out his hand with a blinding smile. His handshake was strong and firm and a bit electrifying, if Ianto were honest. He didn't usually react so strongly to meeting someone new, but there was something about Jack Harkness that sent quick sparks through his body, despite his brain trying to tell him that the man was an arrogant prat.

"Like he said – Jones, Ianto Jones." Ianto winced at how awkward it sounded to introduce himself after already being introduced.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Jones, Ianto Jones," grinned the man. He was several years older than Ianto and held himself with the confidence of his good looks. Ianto wondered if there was anything else to back up that confidence.

"I take it a welcome back is in order?"

"Jack's one of our favorite regulars," Tosh told him. "He's been gone for a month, though. Why didn't you tell us you would be gone so long?"

"I didn't realize you cared so much," Jack laughed, with a wink. To Ianto's surprise, he quickly turned serious, his voice dropping as he pulled her into a one-armed hug and kissed her hair. "I’m sorry, Tosh, but it was an unexpected, last-minute trip. I hardly had time to pack."

"Sounds interesting," said Owen Harper, one of the regulars who practically had his name engraved on a stool at the end of the bar. "Tosh, can you get him a drink so he can tell us about it? Welcome back, Harkness." He stood to shake hands, and Jack sat down on a stool next to him.

Tosh moved behind the bar and started making a scotch and soda as Alex returned to the back office. "So where did you go?" Tosh asked. "Did it go well?"

"Not particularly," Jack said. He rubbed his hands over his face, the confident veneer slipping. "It was a long month of nothing but arguing and testing and failing and more arguing and—let's just say I don’t think they’ll be sending me back anytime soon."

Ianto noticed that Jack had not answered her question about where he'd gone, but either she didn't notice or choose to ignore it. She handed him his drink with a smile and a pat on his arm. "I’m sorry, Jack. I hope things get better. We're glad you're back, you know."

"Yeah, it was damn quiet around here without you," Owen said. He held up his glass and Jack held up his. "Cheers."

"Well, I'm certainly glad I came back when I did," Jack said, throwing an overly bright smile at Ianto and changing moods just like that. "So when did you start, Mr. Jones, Ianto Jones?"

"About two weeks ago," Ianto said, keeping a straight face even though he wanted to roll his eyes. Jack Harkness not only changed moods on a dime, but he seemed to be an incorrigible flirt, and Ianto hoped the man didn't call him Jones, Ianto Jones forever. "Moved from London to try my luck back in the wilds of Wales."

Jack laughed and took a sip of his drink. "Now why leave an amazing place like London? What drove you out?"

"Who says anything drove me out?" Ianto countered. "Maybe I wanted to come home."

"I understand," Jack agreed unexpectedly and sincerely. He was unpredictable, that much was certain. "I love Wales, couldn't wait to get back. What did you do in London?"

"Personal assistant," Ianto said. "At Hartman Technologies."

Jack set down his drink, nodding slowly, his face unreadable. "And did you leave on your own or did Yvonne Hartman sack you?"

"I left on my own," Ianto said, surprised by the question. Jack clearly knew about Hartman Technologies and the quirks of its infamous leader. "I didn't agree with where the company was heading." At all. It had been a great job for years, until Yvonne Hartman had started messing with things that shouldn't be messed with, like life and death and immortality. Working at Canary Wharf had become something from a science-fiction nightmare by the time he left.

"And she let you go?" Harkness sounded surprised. "With your memory intact?"

Ianto leaned back against the counter behind him with his hands crossed over his chest. Tosh was helping someone down at the other end of the bar, and Owen was pretending not to listen. "How the hell do you know about that?" Ianto asked in a quiet voice. Jack grinned again; Ianto found it annoying then, fake and full of lies and manipulation.

"Because I work for John Smith," he said. "Head of Development. It's my job to know the competition."

"Of course," Ianto murmured, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. Yvonne Hartman ran the biggest tech firm in the UK, but John Smith was close behind and gaining, with both an ethical integrity and innovative quality more and more people had started to appreciate, including Ianto. He had even thought about applying there when he moved back to Cardiff, to really stick it to Yvonne, but in the end, he'd decided to take a break from the tech industry and the corporate world, and he found his stress levels were the lowest they'd been for years. He did not want to get pulled back into that life by a charming customer.

Jack frowned and leaned forward, serious once more. "Look, I know what goes on over there. I'm sure it wasn't always like that and was a great place to work a lot the time. But I'm also glad you left. You won't regret it."

"I might when their stock options quadruple," Ianto joked. He did not want to think about everything he had left behind. Yes, he had made the right decision, but he still missed the good things about London: his flat, the café on the corner, his coworkers and his girlfriend and the much bigger paycheck.

"You could always put your money into something more local," Jack said, interrupting his thoughts. He sounded sincere, then wagged his eyebrows and ruined it. "I'd be happy to suggest something over dinner and a drink."

Ianto gave in to another eye roll. "Are you sure you're Head of Development and not the Head of the Innuendo Squad?"

"No, but I do believe in what we do," Jack replied, the flirt gone once more. It seemed Jack Harkness had a singular ability to turn it on and off, switching between moods in the space of a heartbeat. Ianto wondered if the man was serious about dinner and a drink—and how he responded when someone took him up on it.

"I used to believe in my job too," Ianto pointed out.

"We're not trying to bring about the end of the world," Jack told him.

"Neither were we," Ianto said, feeling defensive even after his break with the company. "We—"

"Hey, can I get another pint over here?" Owen asked. "Stop making eyes at each other and get a man his drink, teaboy."

"Sometimes I can't keep up, Owen," Ianto said, turning away from the unexpected conversation with Jack Harkness to pull Owen another pint of Brains. "Besides, he's new and interesting, you're not." Jack flashed that damn grin again.

"He's not new, he's old," Owen scoffed. Jack made a sad face, and Ianto tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of them both. "And he's no more interesting than me."

"Of course I am," Jack replied. Ianto had just met him, but had to agree. Owen was a decent bloke, but he could be somewhat abrasive, particularly after several pints. Jack Harkness, on the other hand, was someone that worked in his former field, someone Ianto wanted to know more about. Even if he was an overconfident flirt who worked for John Smith, Ianto sensed there was more to Jack than met the eye.

"Why are you a teaboy?" asked Jack, glancing between them curiously.

"Because he threatened to make me a nice cup of tea instead of a gin and tonic last week," Owen groused. This time it was Ianto's turn to grin. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"And that's because I'd already made you about six. You do remember hitting on Mickey, don't you?" Mickey Smith worked part-time, covering when Tosh or Ianto had a night off.

"Nope. Never happened." He took a long sip of his pint.

"I was there. So was Alex. It definitely happened."

"Still don't believe you," Owen replied, while Jack laughed at the exchange. "So Harkness, did you pull while you were away?" Owen asked. "Because that’s more interesting than talking about stock options."

"What do you think, Owen?" Jack asked, gazing at him over the top of his glass with a look on his face that indicated the answer was obvious. Apparently, Jack followed through on some of his flirting.

Owen took his pint and stood up. "Knowing you, probably every day. Good to have you back, Jack. Have fun with the new guy." He left the bar and walked over to one of the large round tables in the center of the pub, where a group of regulars was talking and laughing. Ianto turned back to Jack to find the other man watching him.

"What?" he asked warily, wondering if he'd somehow embarrassed himself.

"Nothing," said Jack, shaking his head. "Although you've already worked out how to hold your own with Owen, so I'm impressed."

"Thanks," Ianto replied dryly. "It wasn't hard since he's in here almost every day."

"It's a good place to relax," Jack said. "I'm glad I'm back. Especially since I got to meet the cute new guy."

Ianto gave him another eye roll, ignoring the adjective. "And it's good to meet another shameless regular. Let me know when you need another."

He moved away, busying himself with cleaning a table that had just left for the night. He felt Jack watching him, but eventually Jack left the bar and went to a table by the windows. Owen joined him, and then a few others, and they talked and laughed for at least an hour. Ianto found himself watching Jack more and more as the night went on. He was somehow impossible to ignore, and Ianto was fascinated by the quick changes in the man's mood: gregarious, flirtatious, serious, intelligent. He couldn't help but hope he'd see more of Jack Harkness in the Wooden Torch.

#torchwood #ianto jones #jack harkness #janto #owen harper #toshiko sato #sorry but I've written 18k and Gwen is still offscreen so I don't think she's a part of this story!

8 notes · View notes

hollowsart · 10 months ago

Text

I had to make the Morbius variant of Acedia into its own post, but here's some funny concepts n stuff I came up with while working on her with a friend.

Warning for topics with slight discussion and mentions of blood and vampirism.. cuz this is about a vampire lol

enjoy my thought process minus my friend's input that helped with a little back-and-forth to come up with this stuff:

------------

tfw you're just trying to get some fruit, but this weird ominous looking older man doesn't hesitate when he sees you holding the last perfect honey crisp apple in the whole store.

goth as a subculture apparently didn't exist until the 80s in the UK with the introduction of a specific genre of music. the subculture itself is just heavily music based. it's not fashion based, although most who listen to the music will end up wearing clothes that reflect the music or the styles of those who made the music.

But that's not to say Old Man Morbius couldn't dress very dated and have a more victorian style of dress. gives him that "gothic" look

he stands out from the rest of society at the time in the 50s and he doesn't do much outside of getting necessities and then going back to his penthouse.

there were rumors that he was a vampire, mostly from the younger crowds and some older folks who loved to gossip. Acedia didn't believe it, thought it was rude to spread such things about people without any real proof…. but it didn't stop her from feeling nervous.

boi howdy was she wrong to think he wasn't a vampire.

He followed her from the store and dragged her into an alley and attacked…. taking the dang apple she bought as he fled.

Acedia hating the taste of blood, but the vampire-ness is CRAVING IT.

I think we need a better explanation for "LIVING vampire" as currently, vampirism technically means you're kinda dead tbh. you're dead and you're reanimated differently than a zombie.

I did have a concept where vampires can still eat and drink other things besides JUST blood.

They can eat raw meats and possibly blood sausages, too. they lean a bit further into being carnivorous, but they're not cannibals (not to say there isn't at least one or two vampires who may or may not have gone cannibalistic due to some kind of trauma, but y'know--)

Vampires can go out during the day, but they require coverage from the sun. umbrellas, extra long gloves, big ole hats with massive brims. pants, long sleeves, long dress, etc.

most tend to be nocturnal, but will go diurnal if necessary or for any number of reasons they may have for being awake during the daytime. (like keeping up appearances and trying not to seem so out of place to the regular humans they live around)

AS IF I DIDN'T ALREADY HAVE A SUPER SENSITIVE NOSE AS IS

Morbius!Acedia is a silly fun "non villain" addition to this whole sinistersona concept.

she has no desire to cause harm and, much like Earth-4622's Morbius, she is more of a street-level hero. She uses this for good, not evil. and has her own issues to deal with outside of that world's "Spider-Man"

Acedia: (airhead extraordinaire)

you're not special, Morbius.

me, who knows I'm hungry and should get something to eat yet is still sitting there taking +1 damage every 3 minutes that I'm NOT getting up to get food: …….maybe.. I already AM a living vampire? ..just without the desire to drink blood?

me meeting Morbius and he's like "I haven't had blood in 3 days, I am going to kill someone--"

me: ? only 3 days? the last time I had blood was uhh… 4? 5? days ago?

Morbius: Morbius, now feeling terrified, knowing I'm a variant of him: ….How are you still speaking to me?

me: I have other means of food that tastes better than blood. smells better, too.

I get hungry fast, but I still sit there and tolerate the pain. sometimes I'll drink something to kill the hunger pains. that helps me pass the time.

#ghostie mumbles #I literally do not know what to tag this as and I don't wanna tag the m0rb #spidersona #<-- just for saving #//long post

7 notes · View notes

namig42 · 7 months ago

Text

After sitting on this for almost a week, I finally bring you another chapter of my Wyllstarion modern AU. Please enjoy!

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 8)

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Read it on Ao3

Summary: This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more while also dealing with their demons.

---

Though Mizora chastised Wyll for his incompetence from the previous night, she left him be without any severe punishment. She couldn’t believe that Wyll had let himself be attacked by a whore of all people and, even worse, failed to capture them, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She was sure to not let him live that incident down, much to Wyll’s chagrin.

It seemed at least that Zariel was pleased with Wyll’s progress so far, but there was still much left to be done in her eyes. Streetwalkers were catching onto their coworkers and competition going missing and getting arrested over the past two weeks, but they weren’t scared enough to stay away from their work entirely. Wyll stood there as Mizora gave him the update report from Zariel, but his mind wasn’t present. He was somewhere else entirely, thinking about tonight. It was Saturday, and the Elfsong was where he desperately wanted to be right now. Thinking about who he’d get to see tonight made the wretched woman in front of him more bearable to listen to at the very least. Eventually, Mizora dismissed Wyll, telling him that he was to continue his independent job as usual, and make sure he made an arrest tonight to compensate for yesterday’s mishap. He left Mizora’s office exhausted, and went to carry on with his regular work, counting down the minutes until his shift ended.

At five pm on the dot, Wyll rushed out of the office and made his way home to change. He had a date that he wouldn’t miss for the world tonight. A quick change into a more appropriate outfit of a clean gray button down shirt and some nice black pants, then Wyll rushed out the door just as fast as he had come in and made his way across town to the Elfsong. As he drove, Wyll couldn’t stop the fantasies from swarming his head. What would happen tonight? Would it be similar to last week, or something entirely new? Would he get to share in another kiss? All sorts of scenarios played in the romantic man’s head, and he couldn’t help but indulge in them with a hesitant smile.

When he arrived downtown, it was already after dusk. People were already pacing the streets, heading to their first stops for the evening. They were all still dressed neatly in their party attire. No makeup was smudged and no outfits destroyed from dancing or drinking too much yet. Wyll quickly parked along the main street amongst the many other cars and walked quickly through the crowd and down the narrow alley leading to the Elfsong, thinking about maybe ordering a bottle of wine for him and Astarion to share tonight after the hellish week they’ve endured. Gods know Wyll needed one just for himself after yesterday’s incident.

When he arrived, there was a decent crowd in the Elfsong already. Most of the long tables had parties that already claimed them, and there seemed to be more people already dancing on the floor compared to last week at this hour. Wyll looked to the bar expectantly, but didn’t find who he was looking for. He deflated a bit, then decided to take a seat at the end of the bar at the same spot he sat in last weekend and search for Astarion from there. Who knows? Hopefully the mystery man would find Wyll first and sneak up on him with that roguish charm of his.

“Something to drink?” The bartender asked as Wyll took a seat.

“A bottle of red wine please, and two glasses.”

The bartender nodded and walked off to grab Wyll’s order. Wyll sat and began to examine the room more thoroughly. The dance floor seemed surprisingly busy for the early hour of the evening. There was a DJ tonight rather than a band, so the music started earlier in the evening it seemed. Wyll didn’t see any silver hair poking out of the crowd though. He watched for a moment, but was sure that the man he was looking for wasn’t dancing with anyone. It made him feel a bit relieved.

The bartender brought Wyll his wine and the two glasses. He gladly took one of the glasses, poured himself a generous portion, and in one gulp, most of the glass had already disappeared. Perhaps Wyll would set a new personal record tonight, but honestly, it still seemed like it wouldn’t be enough. Not with the thoughts that plagued him every moment when he wasn’t focused on a task that could distract him or his romantic daydreams. Between his regular work, his special task from Mizora, and the thoughts of Cazador and the awful things that man has likely done to those around him, especially Astarion, Wyll’s mind was never at peace these days.

The only thoughts that didn’t make him want to shrivel in on himself were the ones that fantasized about seeing Astarion here tonight and having another evening like the last. To spend time in good company, have a few bottles to drink, maybe share in another kiss at the end of the evening… Those hopeful ideas and fantasies were what got Wyll through his dread and guilt every other day leading to tonight. The pain didn’t disappear, but it was obscured through Wyll’s rose colored glasses.

The bartender saw Wyll’s glass nearly empty already and offered to pour him another. Wyll nodded with a thankful smile, then turned his attention to the tables. There were so many people standing around and laughing that it made it difficult to see past the first row. Wyll was about to turn back towards the bar when he caught a familiar sight of soft white curls.

It was Astarion, but he wasn’t alone.

Wyll had spotted him when a small window opened in the crowd and allowed him to peek through to the tables centered in the middle of the room. There he was, as lovely as ever. That bruise under his eye was gone now, leaving that perfect face Wyll had first seen on a full moon night. He only wore a white t-shirt and tight black pants, and Wyll couldn’t help but smile.

Then he noticed the woman Astarion was leaning towards. She was stunning, with a small, slender figure and long, flowing blonde hair that was all tied up, leaving her face to be displayed in all its lovely, feminine glory. The woman was leaning into Astarion with eyes full of lust. There were cocktails on the table that were mostly empty in between the two, and their hands were grazing one another on the table, like two young, enamored lovers. Astarion mirrored her well, but Wyll noticed a distance in his eyes.

He was performing again. Wyll could see it.

Wyll turned back to the bar and downed another glass. His face flushed at what he had just seen. It made him feel a bit naive, thinking that this would automatically be a special night for the two of them. That was the hopeless romantic in him, wishing for a fairytale in the midst of reality. He was a fool to think that when Astarion said he spent his evenings here, those nights were just for him to indulge. Wyll wasn’t sure if this woman was work or pleasure for him, but there was a part of his heart that selfishly wanted it to be work. It must be, Wyll thought to himself. That look in his eyes, that’s not the look of someone in love. Maybe it was his naivety, but he felt like that was a different look than the one Astarion looked at him with.

He couldn’t help but look over again, and now Astarion had a hand on the woman’s leg, gently stroking the top of her thigh and moving further up slowly. Wyll got a chill, remembering the times someone touched him like that and how uncomfortable he had been every time. The woman’s smile grew as she bit her lower lip, her hand moving to gently trace down Astarion’s arm. The two of them moved even closer to one another, and the tension between them seemed to increase even more. Their faces slowly moved towards each other, speaking in what Wyll could only assume to be quiet voices, whispering sweet nothings that were clearly leading to something more… promiscuous. Then, the woman leaned away and reached for her glass, waggling it in front of Astarion. Her mouth moved, though Wyll could make out no words over the music and conversation from all the surrounding tables. He could only assume she wanted another drink and thought that Astarion was enough of a gentleman to treat her before taking her home. Little did she know that she was likely to be a prize tonight, though not for Astarion.

Wyll turned back to the bar again, poured himself another glass, and began to take a large sip. He needed to look away. It was too much, watching Astarion work like that. The streets had been one thing, but somewhere where he could sit with his clients and flirt that way, it left a cold, dreadful feeling in Wyll’s stomach. He nearly choked on his wine when a familiar voice rang next to him. “Excuse me, another cosmo please.”

Wyll’s head shot to the right, and there was Astarion, leaning on the bar counter and waggling that woman’s glass. His face looked tired.

Astarion turned to look at the surprised man, and though he didn’t seem surprised to see Wyll there, he did seem shocked at the massive scratch that went all the way down Wyll’s face. His brow furrowed at the sight, but nothing was said.

In his surprise, Wyll hadn’t realized he had been gawking at the man he had been so excited to be in the presence of. He turned away and stared down his glass, feeling his cheeks burn dark and intensely at his presumption that they were going to have time together tonight. Astarion looked like he wanted to reach out and press his hand to Wyll’s scratches, but resisted. Instead, he turned to look back towards his mark. It seemed at least she was preoccupied, smiling into her phone while she waited for him.

Astarion turned back to the bar. He didn’t seem to want to sit or face Wyll directly, lest his target notice and think he was losing interest in her. He did notice the extra glass and sighed, though said nothing of it either.

“Can I ask what happened?” That was all Astarion could seem to say in the midst of their heavy, awkward silence.

“I got into a fight last night.” “Did the other guy come out worse?” Astarion tried to say with a coy smirk.

Wyll couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. He took a sip of wine and turned to look at Astarion, giving him a better look at his battle scar. Though Astarion’s body was faced away from Wyll, there was a clarity in his red eyes that Wyll saw. That was the real Astarion. The one with the woman over there was a character. The eyes looking at Wyll now were the eyes of the actual Astarion, the one with soul, charm, and wit. They were the eyes of the Astarion that was so tired, so beaten because of his circumstances, and yet still had a fire to live despite it all.

It made Wyll’s heart warm to see those eyes again, even if they looked drained. “Unfortunately not.” Wyll finally answered. “I’m afraid I lost that round.”

“A humble hero, how charming~,” he said with a playful lilt and a soft smile. The bartender brought Astarion the cosmo he ordered as he spoke, but he didn’t look pleased to see the drink arrive. He looked back at the empty wine glass next to Wyll’s full drink. “I’m sorry love, but I’m afraid I won’t have time tonight for us.” “Is it work related?” Wyll asked, glancing over at the woman. She was watching Astarion with a devious smile on her face.

Astarion didn’t turn to look at her. “Yes, unfortunately.” Though Wyll felt a bit guilty, there was a small part of him that was relieved to hear that. Their evening might’ve been ruined, but Astarion seemed just as disappointed as him about the fact. It gave Wyll a small sense of hope to know that Astarion had been looking forward to seeing him too.

Astarion pulled out his wallet to pay for the lady’s drink. Wyll caught a glance and noticed there was little in the way of cash and only one black credit card in the other man’s black leather wallet. Astarion handed the bartender his card, glad to see the bartender walk to the other end of the bar to ring up his charge.

“I need you to not come back here.”

“What?” Wyll asked in surprise, quickly turning. He looked at Astarion and saw a look of resigned contempt on his face, but Astarion wouldn’t look him in the eye. With a soft patience, Wyll asked, “can you at least tell me why?”

Astarion took a long pause. Whether he couldn’t find the words or simply didn’t have the heart to speak them, Wyll couldn’t say. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” He still couldn’t seem to bring his eyes to look at Wyll.

“Is that what you really want…?” Wyll asked, his heart sinking at the words, even if he didn’t believe them. “Or is that what Cazador wants?”

It was a risky shot, a stupid, loaded question, but the shock and terror that reflected off of Astarion’s pale complexion told Wyll that he was right. It was Cazador Szarr. He was the ringleader that held Astarion captive. He was the monster that needed to be slain.

“Don’t ever speak that name!” Astarion spat at Wyll as he finally managed to look at the young officer. Astarion bared his teeth, almost as if he was going to take a bite out of Wyll just for what he said. His pupils had narrowed like a cat’s before it pounces, and his hand had moved to grab at Wyll’s shirt. Wyll had been so sure in his theory, but this frantic look of Astarion’s made him wish he didn’t bother to confirm it. He had already had his answer from Aurelia, but he so desperately wanted to be sure. He needed to fuel his reasoning to continue on with this quest, especially if he was going to go against Mizora’s orders by pursuing someone like the Szarrs.

Astarion quickly regained his composure, letting Wyll go and smoothing out his shirt. “It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, smoothing out the last of the wrinkles on Wyll’s button up. “Just don’t come back here again.” He took his card back from the frightened bartender and turned to walk away with the drink. Before he left, he finally met Wyll’s gaze, this time with softness rather than ferociousness. “Please.”

With that, Astarion walked back towards his date who seemed to be very interested in the scuffle that just took place at the bar. Astarion must’ve played it off well, because she seemed even more enamored with him. She grabbed his face with both her hands and pulled him in for a deep, sensual kiss. She leaned back as she did, pulling Astarion nearly on top of her and forcing him to wrap an arm around her torso. It wasn’t long before she finished her drink and the two of them were making their way out of the bar for the evening, her hands roaming Astarion’s backside as they walked away.

Wyll watched them leave and wanted to be sick. Gods, had it been worth saying Cazador’s name? Wyll got his answer, but at what cost? To see Astarion so angry, almost feral… it didn’t feel like the answer was worth what it did to him, but what’s done is done.

He finished his glass and went to pour another, then realized the bottle was practically empty. As much as he wanted a second bottle to wash away his sorrows, he remembered Mizora’s command from this morning: bring back a target tonight to make up for yesterday’s folly.

With a sigh, Wyll stood from the bar, left his payment in cash, and made his way out of the bar. It was time for his own hunt.

---

Thank you for reading! Please follow for more updates!

#bg3 #wyllstarion #bloodpact #wyll ravengard #astarion #fanfic #writing #mine #long post #modern au #cazador szarr

4 notes · View notes

vodka-glrl · 1 year ago

Text

You are mine and only mine... Never forget that♡

Taglist:@nogenderbee

♡ It hasn't been long since you and the mysterious man living in the Grand Mountain Yougou started dating. He usually wasn't open to people and despised socializing but he felt close to you for whatever reason, you weren't complaining since you were the first one to catch feelings in your relationship.

♡ He told about how he lost both of his parents in such a young age, and why everything is the way it is. You couldn't help but feel sympathy towards him... Maybe that was the plan all along?

♡ Even though he hated to go outside and be in a crowd he only did it for your "safety". What if you were to get kidnapped when he wasn't with you, what if you were attacked and god forbid what if someone was trying to take you away from him... No one outside of a small minority knows about his existence so naturally they wouldn't know you are his and only his so the only way to guarantee your safety is to follow you around... Everywhere you went.

♡ In his eyes this was completely normal, I mean what's wrong with wanting to guarantee your partners safety...right? Its harmless... At least for you.

...

You were walking in the streets of Inazuma city when you were stopped by non other than the wandering samurai Kaedehara Kazuha himself, one of your old friends. You haven't seen him since the start of the infamous Vision Hunt Decree. This surprise encounter gave you both the opportunity to catch up on everything you missed in each other's lives. Your old friend Kazuha offered to go drink as you two were talking and catching up unaware of the eyes staring into both of yours souls...

After a long night of drinking you and Kazuha bid farewell to each other. You slowly made your way to your house with an uneasy feeling...one that didn't make you feel safe, so you decided to go to the person who made you feel the safest you've ever been...Sean.

As you made your way up the mountain the feeling in you heart grew stronger and stronger. Once you started to reach your boyfriends house a metallic smell hit your nose making your blood run cold... What was that smell? Was Sean okay? Where is the smell coming from? Questions ran laps in your mind as you opened the door to the small wooden cabin that belonged to your boyfriend only to meet with a disgusting sight.

Everything was covered in blood. On the ground was a dead and mangled Kazuha and in front of his was... Sean covered in blood with his sword in hand.

When he heard you close the door he turned his head towards you with an expression that shows he realized he fucked up really bad.

"L-look (Y/N) I-I can explain!" He said in that deep raspy voice of his, his voice send a shiver down your spine.

You try backing away from him but he quickly corners you and looks at you with the same dark and stoic expression he always has.

"I did it for you, don't you get it. He was trying to harm you! I couldn't let that happen, I can't let anyone tear me away from you my dear~" You took another step back, he seemed to notice your desperate attempts to escape so he grabs you by your throat and brings you closer to him.

"You aren't going anywhere... If you even try to escape I'll tear down the world to find you again... You're mine, never forget that~"

He was serious... You have no where to run there isn't a place he can't find you in. You're stuck with him forever

#yandere oc #oc x reader #genshin oc #oc brainrot #vodkagirl

5 notes · View notes

powerpayback · 1 year ago

Text

local ace looks for personal space, does not succeed

a/n: i wanted to write a lil smth for pride month and while this is technically non-canon... enjoy

For the years Magni and Sprout had been living in Bright City, they had settled on an arrangement. Magni, notorious hater of events with loud crowds and an abundant of technochatter, would go to Bright City Pride in October if he got to drag Sprout along to milder Pride events in June. Sprout, notorious extrovert, agreed.

Bright City didn’t really do mild, but Magni kept his finger on the pulse. So when a bookstore not too far from them announced a queer book club night, he made Sprout go with him.

The adorably named Night Light Books wasn’t quite bustling, but enough people filled the coffee shop that led towards the store. The buzz of people and technochatter seemed louder in the small space.

“You want something to drink?” Sprout asked, glancing up at the menu.

“Yeah, I’ll get a coffee or something,” Magni told her.

She turned to him, arms crossed. “It’s nearly seven.”

“And? Better than Red Bull.”

Sprout tilted her chin up. “I don’t drink it four hours before I go to bed.”

“Well, then don’t order Red Bull.” He looked past the people, deeper into the store. “I’m gonna go look around.”

She gave him a gloved thumbs up before he slipped away. The shelves were not as crowded. The wide aisle that separated the store was lined with street lamps that lit the large store. Between them, tables with displays of queer books were set up, where most customers had flocked to.

He was looking for a new queer romance to add to his shelves, but he saw something else. At first, he didn’t recognize Haley outside the bright yellow shirt of her Sunny’s uniform, dark blonde curls obscuring her freckled face.

“Are you sure it’s not in the sci-fi section?” he heard her ask.

It wasn’t an easy feat, with her staying quiet and his earplugs in as usual. But as she bickered with the man beside her, Magni recognized her voice.

He wasn’t quite as nosy as Sprout was, but he still made his way over to the table. His best friend’s massive crush on Haley was hard to ignore and if she was on a date with this dude, he wanted to find out first. He went over to the other side and attempted to be conspicuous.

Haley’s friend was a Black guy who only had a few inches on her short stature, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. A black cloth mask covered most of his face, but Magni saw a glint of metal poking out on his cheek. Maybe a Talent, he figured, but that didn’t tell him much. With the mask pulled over his face, he couldn’t make out his reply, even quieter with the cloth concealing his mouth.

He must not have been as conspicuous as he thought, because Haley turned his way. “Oh, Magni! Hey.”

“Hi,” he said, fingers brushing against one of the books. “Small world, huh.”

“Yeah.” She grinned. One of the nearby streetlights that adorned the store glowed more in her presence. “We were just looking around. You know, always great to support queer authors.”

“Totally,” Magni said with a nod. “I usually prefer romance, but this-” He squinted to make out the title in front of him- “uh, history of Bright City’s gay scene and Talents seems pretty interesting.” It actually did, so it technically wasn’t a lie. Even if it was just a bit of a bluff. He picked it up. Hell, maybe it could be a bedtime read. “You looking for anything in particular?”

“Mm, kinda,” Haley said. “We were-” She turned to look at her friend, but he’d made a swift escape before he even learned his name. “Well, he must be looking for it. Just some author we know.”

Magni glanced off into the distance. “Damn. Talk about a vanishing act.”

She shrugged, before looking back at him. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

He looked down at the shirt he was wearing. It read, This Ace Needs Their Space. “Thanks. I thought it was fitting.”

“So, you’re looking for romance?” Haley asked. “I thought you read broody murder mysteries or serial killer biographies.”

“My whole life is mystery, so reading about murder gets depressing,” Magni said. He decided not to mention that they didn’t really get murder cases anyways.

“Okay, I’d also choose not to read about murder that much if that was my whole life,” she muttered.

“Sometimes, a guy just has to curl up with a romance and get lost in Regency-era yearning.” He clutched the history book to his chest. “What’s your poison of choice?”

Before Haley could reply, Sprout strode up to him, oblivious to her presence as she handed him a coffee. “Don’t bitch at me, but this is decaf.”

Magni scrunched his nose, but he took it. Coffee was coffee. “Fine.”

“Sprout. Hey. I didn’t know you were here,” Haley said.

Sprout clasped her cup with both hands, clearly trying not to spill all over an entire book display as she turned to face her. “Oh, angel! I didn’t recognize you without the- neon yellow.”

The light hummed brighter than before behind Haley. “Yeah, well, I gotta have a life outside waiting tables,” she joked.

Magni decided to take a cue from Haley’s friend and patted Sprout’s shoulder with the book he’d grabbed before he wandered deeper into the store. He’d been to Night Light Books enough to know that the back section of the books could be a weaving maze. Most of the action was near the front, but here, he could get a little peace and quiet.

Bookstores weren’t really a safe haven free from technochatter. Wherever there were people, the noise from their phone followed. With one or two people, it was barely noticeable. But the more people there were, the more overwhelming it could get. He called it technochatter because that’s all it sounded like sometimes - constant chatter. Back here, the chatter was a safe distance away.

There were no displays back in the tighter space. He’d missed the queer romance table, but frankly, he’d leave that to Sprout for the night. Besides, as he headed towards their regular romance section, they didn’t exactly slack off for the other eleven months of the year.

Tucking the book in his hand under his arm, he scanned the titles they did have. He didn’t keep up with what books were popular, mostly because he was a ghost on everything but Facebook to keep up with his aunts. However, he spotted a book he’d heard good things about, something about widowed countesses and astronomers.

He eased it out and wished he had somewhere to put his coffee down, turning it over to read the back. It would have been more successful if he’d put his reading glasses on first. Magni tried to add to his other book under his arm to pluck them out from his jacket, but that one clattered to the ground instead.

“Motherfucker,” he muttered. He bent down to pick it up.

As he did though, someone else pulled the book out of his reach. “You dropped this,” a man’s voice said.

He stood up, ready to make a smart remark, but the guy in front of him was… well, he was hot. His baby blue button-down strained around his muscles, blonde hair swept out of his face. He held the book out to him.

“Thanks,” Magni said, taking it back.

“You know the action’s over there, right?” he asked, pointing a thumb towards the rest of the store.

“Yeah. I don’t like action,” he said. He balanced his books on the edge of the shelf to take out his glasses.

“I can see the appeal of peace and quiet.” The blond held out a hand. “I’m Lloyd.”

“Magni.” He set his glasses down to give his hand a firm shake. One of the weirder skills he’d picked up as a detective was reading people through a handshake. His hand was soft, but his grip was strong.

"Oh, Magni. Very... Scandinavian." He wasn't quite sure to take it as a compliment or not. Before he could decide on how to take it, Lloyd asked, “So, you like local history?”

“It sounded interesting,” Magni told him. He slipped his glasses on, making sure none of his thin dreads slipped underneath the frame. “Talent history is so rich, but if you don’t have a parent who’s actually a Talent, you can underestimate its importance. Especially when it comes to the queer community, it can be even harder to learn about our past.”

Lloyd nodded. “I mean, I’m not a Talent. I wouldn’t really know. Seeing how those two intersect, though, that’s interesting.”

Magni turned to pick up the book he’d been looking at to actually be able to read the summary, but he heard Lloyd chuckle. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you actually read that stuff.”

“I just love a happy ending. Sue me.”

“They’re not real literature, you know,” Lloyd said.

Magni often wished for a Talent other than technopathy. Right now, he wished that he had something useful, like enchantment, to get this guy to shut up.

But he continued to prattle on. “It just lacks depth. I mean, I think you of all people would know that.”

“What does that mean?”

Lloyd gestured to Magni’s shirt. “Romance is just softcore erotica for bored housewives. And I thought you’d be bored by that.”

He did often skip the sex scenes, but he still took offense to that. Before he could reply, he felt someone lay a hand on his shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

It wasn’t Sprout’s voice, so he glanced back looking confused. It was Haley’s friend, a couple books in hand. However, Magni knew an out when he saw one, and took his books. “Great conversation, Lloyd.”

The masked man guided deeper into the store and out of sight. “Sorry, he just sounded like a dick.”

Magni chuckled. “Yeah. A little.”

He glanced past him, probably trying to gauge if Lloyd was gone. “I know about dealing with dicks.” He turned back, dark brown eyes wide. “That sounded bad. Dealing with shitty people.”

“He thought he read my shirt, but clearly he missed the needs their space part,” he joked.

“Seriously.” Though Magni couldn’t see his smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I should probably go find Haley.”

“Yeah, she was flirting with my friend, so you can hide out a little more.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Alright. Good for her.”

Magni looked back to see if Lloyd had sulked off, before he gave Haley’s friend a smile and slipped away. He didn’t really feel like looking at romance anymore - he’d already grabbed a couple of books and his shelf was stuffed to the brim. Yet, he lingered near them until he saw Sprout round the corner.

“How’d things go with Haley?” he asked.

Sprout took a sip of her lavender colored drink. “It went fine.”

“Did you get her number, finally, when she wasn’t on the job?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No,” she whined.

Magni came up to her and bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”

“What next time? How often do I run into her outside of Sunny’s?”

“That means you just have to come book shopping with me more often,” he told her, cheeky grin on his face. “They do have a great gardening book collection.”

“Fine,” Sprout said. “But for now, I’m feeling pretty book-ed out.”

“Did you even look at any books?”

“I looked at a few. We wandered to the queer sci-fi/fantasy table. Which, I never understood why they group them together,” she informed him.

He shrugged. “They’re both speculative fiction.”

Sprout snorted into her drink. “Okay, nerd.”

“Don’t call me a nerd, nerd,” he retorted back. “Did you get the name of Haley’s friend?”

“No. I didn’t even see him,” she answered. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Magni finished off his coffee. “Let’s get out of here so I can actually start reading these.”

This night was mild by Bright City standards, but he’d had enough people for one night.

#power payback #magni quinn #sprout marotto #haley coello sterling #i'm posting this late (the last day of june) cuz i went thru two ideas n couldn't settle on a title

5 notes · View notes

angelnightxsacrilege · 4 months ago

Text

0 notes

magicveiled · 1 year ago

Text

The party was in full swing. Morgan and Rascal had decided to spend Halloween together since Michael was away on a hunt and Ciara had a hot date somewhere. The witch and her familiar found themselves not so much doing a bar crawl, but rather doing a crawl of some extravagant houses involved in a street wide block party located in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city. They had been drinking, but unlike Morgan, Rascal couldn't really get drunk. Not unless he drank a whole liquor store. So he could drink while at the same time being the sober buddy during his and Morgan's escapades for the night.

What with the blaring music, bustling crowds of people in costume, and the thick aroma cloud of booze, body sweat, and weed, she didn't see the woman whom she ran into by accident until the two of them collided. Rascal had to swiftly catch Morgan before she fell and ultimately would crack her poor noggin open on the concrete. While he was simultaneously laughing and berating her for not looking where she was going, Morgan was too busy uttering distracted apologies to the woman for her clumsiness.

"I'm SO-so-so-so sorry, I didn't see you there!" Morgan shouted over the general noise then giggled, holding onto Rascal's shoulder for dear life. "Can you BELIEVE this party?" she exclaimed, "It's INSANE ! I wish my brother was here. He lives for shit like this. I LOVE your costume, by the way! what are you supposed to be?"

@occultbureau halloween starter call.

#im so sorry this got so wordy lol #you got morgan but also rascal as just kinda a side character lol #morgan macveigh. | main verse *#morgan macveigh. | roleplay *#halloween 2k23 *#occultbureau

0 notes

primatechnosynthpop · 1 year ago

Text

If You Push Them Too Hard, They're Going To Break

Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The next few weeks were surreal to say the least. By day, Jemaine and Bret carried on with their regular lives. By night they performed to moderate success at bars, clubs, auditoriums, corporate events-- not public libraries or elevators. None of their gigs drew in huge numbers, but the numbers they drew went beyond single digits. And they always got paid.

Mel was never in the crowd, of course. Neither was Doug, which Jemaine felt a bit betrayed by whereas Bret didn't really notice or care. He could have showed up to support them, Jemaine thought, to pay tribute to his wife's legacy. People applauded, but never with the volume or enthusiasm Mel used to, nor did fans approach them with anywhere near her level of zeal. In fact, hardly anyone approached them at all. People just showed up, watched them play, and left. It was disconcerting. They'd always thought if they ever succeeded, their loyal fan would be there to cheer them on, gushing about how proud she was that her guys had finally made it.

"It's too bad," Jemaine remarked once while they were backstage, tuning his bass in preparation to perform. "I could've included her in my wish if I'd remembered."

"Maybe Doug can make a contract," Bret suggested. "If he wants to bring her back."

Jemaine grimaced and shook his head. "No, Doug would make a terrible magical girl."

There was still a familiar face who cropped up amidst the crowds, though. Dave usually sat near the back, hoping to come off as aloof and not make it seem like he was overly invested in the band's performance. They may have been moving up in the world, but he still had a reputation to uphold. But by the end of the night he'd be pointing up at the stage and proclaiming to anyone in earshot, "Hey, I knew these guys before they were famous. If you wanna hear any stories about 'em, just ask me-- although, fair warning, they're boring as hell except the parts where I show up."

They weren't famous even now, really-- nobody talked about them on the street or on social media, and there was still no sign of a record deal. But if Dave wanted to call them famous, they weren't going to correct him.

"I always knew you guys would hit the big time someday," he told them one night after a performance that was successful but not too successful as always. He poured each of them a drink and slid the glasses across the bar counter toward them. The drink in question was just water, but Bret and Jemaine took it without complaint because they didn't really feel like alcohol anyway. "I guess some of my advice must have finally paid off."

"Oh, uh, I don't know about that," Bret admitted. "It was mostly because Jemaine did something you told us not to do."

"Bret, we don't need to tell him that."

"What? Did you guys get your big break by going on a date with each other's exes or... shit, what else have I told you not to do?" Dave scratched his head, pushing his bandana askew. "Or, wait, is this about the whole gay thing? Listen, I never actually said you couldn't be gay. It's just that if you were, chicks wouldn't be--"

"It's not a gay thing," Jemaine cut him off. He took a sip of water, shooting Bret a dirty look over the rim of the glass, which Bret was oblivious to because he was also sipping water and doing it with his eyes closed for some reason. "It has to do with magical girls. And one of us becoming one."

"Yeah, no shit, you already told me Bret's a magical girl."

"No, I mean... another one of us. Both of us, now, we're magical girls."

"Oh." Dave squinted at Jemaine's hand, and sure enough, there was one of those rings just like Bret had. "Well, fuck, man."

Jemaine, sensing how much the mood had immediately soured, tried weakly to steer it back to cheerful. "It's not so bad. Better than I thought it would be. I like my costume."

Dave didn't say anything to that. He didn't know what to say. So two of his friends had basically thrown their lives away? After all the bullshit advice he made up on the spot to impress them, this was the time they decided not to listen. The one time he actually had a real, serious warning, and they ignored it. Well, shit. What could you say to that?

Instead of responding, he chugged his own drink (not water) and let his gaze stray around the bar. There were people dancing, a couple hot chicks, but none that got him too excited. He thought he spotted Murray in a corner trying to chat up a couple guys in suits, but the suits didn't look interested in whatever he was saying. People had been singing along when Jemaine and Bret got up there and played their lame nerd-ass songs, but nobody was approaching them now. That was weird. Didn't there used to be someone who was always on their dicks?

"What happened to that psycho chick, anyway?" he muttered. "The one who wants to fuck you guys so bad it makes her look stupid."

Jemaine and Bret exchanged a glance, their faces jarringly solemn. Bret looked more pensive, while Jemaine seemed resigned. Now it was Dave's turn to realize he'd asked the wrong question. But, to their credit, they answered him anyway.

"Mel's not around anymore," said Jemaine.

Bret sighed, staring down into the cup of water in his hands. "She turned into a witch and we had to kill her."

Jemaine turned to Bret with as much incredulity as Dave did. Both said "What?" almost in unison, though with Jemaine's much flatter delivery you'd never know he was equally taken aback.

"You didn't mention she became a witch," said Jemaine.

"Didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. When did that happen?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought I mentioned it. It was the time Murray died."

"What?"

"Murray fucking died?" Dave interjected. "But he's standing right over there."

"Yeah, but then-- you know, your wish, Jemaine..." Bret gestured vaguely, cheeks colouring with embarrassment as he realized how poorly he was explaining himself. He really thought he'd been over this, but obviously it had slipped his mind. "Anyway, he is alive now, but Mel's not because she became a witch."

"I don't believe this," Jemaine muttered.

"Sorry, man, I just--"

"Not you," he clarified. "Kyubey. It didn't say anything about people turning into witches. We might have wanted to know that before making contracts with it."

"See, that's why-- I fucking told you New Guinea morons not to be magical girls!" Dave snapped, slamming his glass down on the bar. The drinks had gone to his head a little, and he knew he wasn't being cool and he'd regret blowing up like this later, but fuck, he was pretty sure he was allowed to be mad about this right now. "Rule number one of making a deal, you wanna know shit about what you're getting into. That means you ask questions before giving anything up, because if you get scammed, nobody's gonna give you a refund."

"...Sorry, Dave."

"We're from New Zealand. But yeah, sorry, Dave."

"Yeah, whatever." He took one last swig of his drink even though it tasted like shit now. "Just don't die, okay? And if you do, don't say I didn't warn you."

On the nights they didn't have gigs, they fought witches, which was only a slightly bigger change of pace than the gigs.

Bret ran through a twisting Parisian street, occasionally shooting at the witch towering above him. The familiars, fancy woman-shaped dolls dressed up in scarves and berets, had Jemaine surrounded. They were speaking in some garbled language he couldn't understand. It made his head ache. He beat them back with a nunchuck in each hand, one wood and one metal.

The ground shook as one of the witch's giant metal legs came crashing down inches from where Bret had been a moment ago. The witch was dressed the same as its familiars, but instead of a doll body it had the body of a full-size eiffel tower. Bret, tired of running, ducked into the closest building that had a working door-- a library. He ducked between two bookshelves, where he hid until the thundering steps from outside faded away and he could relax with the knowledge that the witch had passed him by.

<Jemaine,> he called out telepathically. <Where are you? I'm in a library.>

It took a moment for Jemaine to respond, and Bret briefly wondered if his friend might have been hurt or worse. But luckily his response came through eventually. <I think I'm in a dance hall. Are you sure you're in the same labyrinth as me?>

<Pretty sure,> Bret replied. He stepped out of his library shelter and looked across the ravaged street. Through a window on the opposite side of the street, he could see Jemaine standing in a discotheque with his back turned, one hand on his hip and the other near his ear like he was making a phone call. Bret's lips quirked in amusement. <Yeah, I can see you from here. Turn around.>

It was bad timing, however, as just then the witch turned around and came charging down the road at Bret again. He ducked inside another building, this time a swimming pool, just as Jemaine turned around.

<I don't see you,> Jemaine said with a frown. <Are you messing with me?>

<I'm not messing with you.>

Bret just rolled his eyes without responding to that remark and lined up a shot through a window. He wanted to see if he could knock the beret right off that witch's head.

They'd been in this city-themed labyrinth for what felt like hours now and hadn't found the witch. Neon signs pulsed, the buildings seemed to press in tighter every minute, and a periodically shifting landscape kept them running back and forth across the same streets with no sense of direction. Bret fired arrows wildly into the air, while Jemaine slumped against a cold concrete wall to catch his breath.

There was a shifting sound, and they turned in unison to see a familiar shuffling toward them. It was a humanoid figure dressed like a store clerk, but its body was cobbled together out of muesli. Jemaine cocked an eyebrow at it. His stomach grumbled despite himself-- he hadn't eaten yet-- and Bret gave him an incredulous look.

"What?" he said defensively. "Witches eat humans. Maybe we could start eating their familiars. Even things out a little."

Bret just shook his head. He drew back an arrow and fired it off, but it sailed right through the familiar and didn't even slow it down. Jemaine glanced behind them to see a second one coming up a hill. He tightened his grip on his own weapon and stood behind Bret facing the opposite way so their backs were almost touching.

"What are you doing that for?" Bret asked.

"It's a cool pose," Jemaine explained. "We're like a battle couple."

"We're not a couple."

"I know, that's why I said 'like'. We're just a couple of... battlers."

Bret shrugged. "Alright. Whatever, man."

While Bret's arrows proved ineffective against the familiars, a few whacks from Jemaine's nunchucks made them crumble away. Soon Bret ducked out of the battle altogether and sat down on a fire escape to watch while Jemaine finished them off. Jemaine wasn't pleased with that. He was about to hassle Bret about abandoning him when he felt something shift underfoot.

"Augh, what's that?"

"What's what?" Bret asked, but then he felt it too a moment later. The streets were moving again-- but not just moving. The pavement was contracting and expanding like a beating heart. "Oh, wow. That's freaky."

There was a theory forming in his mind, and he motioned for Jemaine to move out of the way so he could test it. Jemaine didn't need any prompting to take several steps back when he saw Bret lining up a shot. His confidence in his friend's skills had improved drastically since they started fighting together, but he still wasn't keen on taking risks.

Bret fired straight down, and a thick oily substance spurted up from the crack that his arrow split in the pavement. The ground shook and they heard a bellowing sound from below. Jemaine stumbled, momentarily losing his footing, while Bret smirked at the confirmation of his suspicion: the witch had been right under their feet all along.

While Bret leapt from rocky crag to rocky crag dodging crashing waves and picking off familiars, Jemaine grappled with a witch in the form of a giant mutated seagull. After a lot of hard work and struggle he'd managed to get up on its back and now he had his nunchucks around its throat, strangling it. Things were looking good until Jemaine felt a sudden chill and looked up to see a piano falling at him from the sky.

"Bret," he yelped, jerking back and letting go of the witch in shock. Now free, it shook him off and took to the sky again with a flap of its wings and a screech. "There's a piano...!"

Bret either didn't hear him over the crash of the waves or ignored him. He just kept studiously shooting down the feathery hands that periodically shot up from the water. Now that the witch was free it took a dive for him too, but he scared it away with a couple arrows that missed by a wide margin but made for good warning shots.

The piano was too big to dodge in time, so Jemaine raised his nunchucks to block it. The corner of the piano balanced precariously on the slim metal chain between the two wooden sticks, which groaned and threatened to buckle under the weight.

<Bret,> Jemaine called with more insistence, using telepathy this time despite his misgivings about the mode of communication. <I could use a little help.>

Bret paused, lowering his bow, and looked over. "What is it?"

"This piano is going to crush me," Jemaine explained tersely. His arms and legs were already wobbling from having to keep it balanced above his head, and something deeper in his core ached from the concentrated magic power required to keep his nunchucks intact while committing this implausible feat. "You need to move it out of the way."

"Ohh, yeah," Bret said, nodding. "Yeah, I can do that, hold on."

He raised a hand, which glowed the colour of his magic, and the same glow spread to the piano as it gently lifted into the air. As soon as the weight vanished from Jemaine's arms, he wasted no time getting well out from under the piano.

"You could've done that sooner," Jemaine remarked as he jumped up on a rocky ledge to join Bret.

"I was busy."

"I almost died. Would you have been busy then?"

Bret shrugged, unbothered, because he hadn't been paying attention and thought Jemaine was exaggerating. One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. "I guess I'd be busy finding a replacement roommate."

Jemaine grumbled about how impossible it was to work with Bret as the two of them worked in tandem to bring down the witch. He caught the witch's leg in his nunchucks, Bret shot a few arrows through each of its wings to bring it down, and it was finished in less than a minute.

Jemaine couldn't get used to the sensation of sleeping in jewelry, so he took to keeping his soul gem on the nightstand beside his glasses overnight. One evening when they were getting ready for bed, he was struck with an odd sort of ticklish sensation and looked over to see Bret sitting up in bed inspecting his soul gem.

"What are you doing with that, Bret?"

"Oh, I was just trying to figure out the shape of your soul gem," Bret said. "Like how mine's an animal. I can never tell its shape when you're transformed because it's stuck inside that flower. The petals get in the way."

"Does it matter?"

He shrugged. "It's interesting. Says something about a person, I think."

Jemaine sat down on the edge of his own bed and leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. It wasn't something he paid attention to himself, but that assertion had him curious. "Oh yeah? What's Murray's, then?"

Bret pursed his lips, rocking back and forth in his cross-legged position. "A pen or pencil, I think. It's got that, you know, sort of shape..."

He indicated the shape he meant by gesturing with his hands.

"Are you sure that's not a phallic symbol?" Jemaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm..." Bret narrowed his eyes, lips screwing to the side, and shook his head. "No, I don't think it's that."

"Right, I guess it wouldn't be. I don't know if Murray even has a dick."

"He has one."

"Oh yeah?" Jemaine challenged. "Have you seen it?"

Bret gave him an odd look. "No. Have you?"

"No, but with the way you ran up and hugged him that time, I thought maybe there was something you weren't telling me."

Bret rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Jemaine was still hung up on that. Rather than dignify that comment with a response, he flopped over onto his back and resumed inspecting the soul gem and the little symbol on top. Out of nowhere it hit him.

"Oh, I know. It's a pair of lips."

"...Pardon?"

"Your soul gem," he explained, holding it out for Jemaine to see. "It's shaped like a pair of lips. Your lips, I'd imagine."

"Aw, is that really it?" Jemaine looked skeptical and vaguely disappointed as Bret handed the soul gem over to him. He transformed in a flash of light, then plucked the gem out of his flower accessory and examined it. In that form it was much easier to tell... and yes, it looked like Bret was right. "That's probably because I kiss so many people," he said unconvincingly. "Especially women. Entirely women, actually."

"Or it could be because you've got a big mouth," Bret suggested with a smirk.

Jemaine scoffed and gave Bret a gentle shove. It was supposed to be gentle, anyway. He forgot he had the strength of a magical girl now. Bret went rolling off the bed, and upon climbing back up, transformed into his magical girl costume just to shove Jemaine back.

It quickly escalated into a lighthearted war, the two both ending up on Bret's bed rolling around and pushing each other. Jemaine won out in the end. He was the physically stronger of the two, and not even Bret's fancy agility would let him wriggle out from under a pair of large hands that had each of his arms firmly pinned down. Jemaine panted to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat coating his brow as he stared down into Bret's wide eyes...

Bret let out a startled yelp at the sound of their bedroom door swinging open. He drew his legs up and threw his arms around himself like he was naked despite being fully clothed. The reaction made Jemaine jump too as the way the situation looked caught up to him. Kyubey stood calmly in the doorway, staring at them.

"Agh! Did you see all that just now? That wasn't... we weren't..."

<I was under no false pretenses about your activities,> Kyubey replied levelly. <As a species driven by calculations rather than emotion, I do not make unreasonable assumptions as humans often do.>

"Even if we had been doing anything," Jemaine said against his best interests, "Bret's a magical girl, so..."

"No, I'm a magical man," Bret corrected him. "You're a magical girl."

"Yes, either way it's like one of us is a girl, sort of... like we're both girls, really... so if we were to do anything, it wouldn't be gay," Jemaine flawlessly concluded his thought. "Not that we were. But if we did."

Kyubey found that logic deeply questionable, as it did with the complexities of many human emotions, but said nothing as it glanced back and forth between the musicians. Bret had shuffled to one end of his bed and was sitting hunched over, staring at the floor. Jemaine was at the opposite end of the bed but had yet to retreat to his own, in a simulacrum of a casual pose but with his neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle so he could look as far away from Bret as possible. Both their faces had turned a deep red.

"Kyubey," Bret said slowly, "Could you please leave the room? I'd like to talk with Jemaine alone for a bit."

That got Jemaine's attention. He looked back at Bret, blinking in surprise. "You... you would?"

His eyes asked more questions than he was willing to voice aloud, and Bret gave him a shy smile and dip of his head that answered them. Kyubey nodded its assent and politely trotted out of the room. Of course it could still listen in on them from any distance, but they didn't need to know that.

And whatever happened once that door was closed was confidential business that could only be disclosed in a private magical girl meeting.

[Part 5]

#hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?#a bit of a lighter one this time before things get sad in the next and final couple installments

1 note · View note

boundtosuffer · 1 year ago

Text

manbehindtheshield:

“Picking me up would probably be a good idea. If you absolutely don’t mind. I can drive … but I only have a motorcycle right now.” Since he lived in the city he usually walked or took public transportation, but sometimes he did like to get somewhere quickly without having to rely on a train or taxi. Motorcycles were just hell of a lot easier to navigate through the crowded streets. “Hey, I already know my ass is going to be sore from falling so much.” He grinned at her, feeling really good about how this day was turning out.

Not only he got a sorta-date, but he was also getting pie! “A homemade pie? Haven’t had one in years.” His mother used to love to bake but she passed away when he was eighteen. “I like all flavors but I’m really partial to peach…” Nothing wrong with dropping a hint, right?

As they entered the coffee shop she began to tell her about how she became a PI and he nodded because it was interesting to him. It almost felt like one of those jobs kids would play pretend as but here she was the real thing. A detective like Dick Tracy or Sherlock Holmes. “That’s really cool. It sounds like a fascinating job and if you can be your own boss, that makes it even better.” Steve was kinda his own boss. He created his own art to sell unless he was being commissioned by someone. Those people could be extremely picky about the way they wanted things and then Steve really didn’t feel like his own boss at all.

He laughed when she said she didn’t spy for suspicious lovers. “Yeah, I would think that would not be so great of a job to do. At some point you probably just feel like a creepy voyeur watching people sneaking around kissing and god knows what else.” He could’ve heard more about her but it seemed she wanted to hand off the talking to him for now.

“Um, I was born and raised in Brooklyn. I rent a small loft apartment where I work out of. I’m kinda hoping to move soon. I need more space but at least right now the rent his cheap. I sometimes volunteer at the Met as a tour guide on the weekends….” He sounded boring as fuck compared to her. “I, uh, I’m single.” That was info not needed at the moment. But it was better than telling her that sometimes he models nude for life drawing classes.

Luckily the line moved and he stepped ahead to order, letting her go first. Once they were done, he paid and they moved off to the side to wait for their drinks. It gave him a little time to find something interesting about himself to tell her. “I’m going to Italy next summer to explore and create some art. So I’m pretty excited about that. Do you like to travel?”

“Yeah, the motorcycle wouldn’t be too comfortable to carry around my skating gear. You’ll have to stick to the rentals, which mind you, aren’t great. But they will do to begin with. We’ll get you ones without toe pick, so you don’t risk tripping with it. I’ve done it more than once.” She admitted, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Surely it’d been a fun thing to see, her flying across the ice. She’d seen colors and finally understood the meaning of getting your air sucked out of your lungs. You live and you learn, right? “Peachy!” Not the flavor she normally went for. She was a classic apple pie kind of girl, and had baked many cherry pies for a certain someone before. Hunters and their tastes. “It’s a good way to let some stress out, you know? With the added bonus of having something yummy to eat afterwards. That is, if everything goes according to plan.” Which not always happened. She’s been known with burned batches of cookies. “Eh, fascinating. . . Not sure if it’s the right word, but we can go along with it.” She said with a slight shrug. She was far from the Sherlock Holmes type. Sure, there was research done and some planning. But her methods were a little more. . . Questionable. Violent. Cleaning crews were needed more often than they should, or that’s what Jason told her time and time again. She never listened. And he let her do her work, notwithstanding the complaints. The agent couldn’t deny she brought results to the table. “Little kissing and fucking in my line. Lots of disappearances and death.” She raised her eyebrow when he mentioned being single. “That makes two of us, and one less thing to worry about. Imagine hitting on someone and finding out they’re involved with somebody else. Couldn’t be me.” She laughed, although briefly. She ordered the same as before, a foamy cappuccino with a little caramel drizzle. “I’ll be honest. . . I don’t travel for pleasure. Like, vacations or things like that? I spent years on the road, skipping from town to town, solving cases.” Hunting things was a more accurate description of what she did. “Never traveled abroad either. So I wouldn’t really know. But it sounds like it’d be pretty cool, not gonna lie.”

manbehindtheshield:

“Oh, come on. I can afford food.” He couldn’t help but grin when she said he shouldn’t be spending money. Steve was a typical starving artist but he wasn’t living out of a cardboard box – yet. With a little shrug of his shoulders but still with the grin on his face, he said. “At least let me buy you a drink or something afterwards. You’ll probably need one after putting up with me for the day.” He was so not good at this flirting thing, was he?

She rattled off a bunch of different rinks there were but none of them sounded good enough. He didn’t care where they ended up because he was usually always up for whatever. “Hey, where ever you want to go is totally fine with me. I can meet you there or we can go together.”

He was happy to hear that she wasn’t put off by the idea of coming to his place for the art lesson. Shit– what the hell was he even going to teach her? She said she couldn’t draw at all but maybe there was something she wanted to learn. “Oh, hell, I can’t turn down pie.” He grinned again. Steve loved food of all kinds. When he wasn’t doing art, he loved to explore the city and find all kinds of new restaurants to try out. Baked goods where some of his favorites. “I live on coffee, too.” He opened the door of the cafe for her and allowed her to go inside before following in after. “So how did you exactly get into the PI business?” He asked as they made their way into the line. His eyes scanning over the menu as he decided on what to get. “I never hired a PI before but my buddy’s ex girlfriend hired one to spy on him because she thought he was messing around with someone else. Turns out he wasn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged to buy me anything. Because, really, you don’t have to.” She said, her smile paling in comparison with his grin. She was all for getting free food, but she didn’t want him to think she expected so. Besides, it was her the one that’d came up with the idea of teaching him how to manage himself on the ice. It’s not like she’d be putting up with him against her will. Quite the contrary, indeed. “I can pick you up, if you want. I’ll drive us there. And you’ll be thankful at the end of the day to have someone to drive you back home, believe me. We’ll do proper stretching so you don’t end up too sore. . . But you’ll feel it, sooner or later. Skating is a hell of an exercise.” And she wasn’t selling it in the most appealing way, was she? But she was truthful. As fun as skating was, and as much as she loved it, it couldn’t be denied that it was a tough sport that required discipline and a mighty will. And money, a ridiculous amount of it. “Oh-kay then, it’s settled! I’ll bake some pie. Take it as an apology for the atrocities you may get to see when you sit me down to draw.” She walked right beside him, offering a slight nod when he opened the door for her. “It’s. . . Complicated. But long story short, I’ve been doing research since I was a teen. Investigating stuff, helping out my—” then, she paused. She normally didn’t speak about Adam, her adoptive father. Her mentor. And another person she’d lost along the way. “—boss. I guess it only made sense that I ended up in this line of work. Not to mention the fact that I’m in command, so I can do things my way every single time.” Much to one of her contact’s dismay. “Well, uhm, I don’t take that kind of cases. Definitely not my territory. But we’ve heard enough about me, haven’t we? Tell me more about yourself.”

#manbehindtheshield #ooc: nothing to be sorry about haha

15 notes · View notes

shiny-jr · 2 years ago

Note

Pleasing and begging please...something with soft yan Vil....maybe specifically something about him protecting his darling from some particularly jealous and vindictive fans?

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: When news finally got out that you, a common person, was dating the Vil Schoenheit, all hell seemed to break loose.

Note: Man, y'all really like soft yan Vil stuff, huh? Come get y'all food. This came out way longer than I thought it would. Oh, and it’s 1AM when I checked for mistakes, so sorry if there’s some I missed.

Vil hadn't meant for this to happen. All he had wanted was to have a nice serene dinner with you. It was at an exclusive restaurant on the highest floor, a space he rented so he could be entirely alone with you and there would be no one else to disturb you. While you were in awe at the sight of the city lights from clear glass windows from on high, he was distracted too. Not by the sight, oh no. There was something else, or rather someone else, far more beautiful right in front of him. Perhaps that was his mistake, distracted by admiring you with eyes filled with love, so entranced that he failed to notice the waiter by the door quietly snapping a photo of the two.

Everything was normal the next day. The quiet before the storm. Vil was busy with some filming, apparently landing a role in a highly anticipated movie. You were in a cafe, quietly relaxing with a magazine and on the cover was your very partner. As you sipped on your drink of choice, you listened in to the noises around you. People ordering coffees and overpriced macaroons, the ding! of the cash register, the chime of the bell above the entrance. When a lively little intro song came on, your eyes drifted to the source: the television.

The screen displayed a youthful looking woman, one that hosted those types of talk shows where they spoke about the hottest trends, conversed about the most dramatic of events, and discussed the most baseless of celebrity rumors. It's bright colors and loud volume immediately caught your eye. You decided to watch, taking another long sip of your beverage as the pretty hostess appeared in her chair.

"And the hottest story today, Vil Schoenheit was pictured last night, reportedly on a date!"

What.

The hostess laughed, sounding a little fake as she continued with a pearly white smile, "The leaker of the photo says that Vil seemed extremely close with this person he was with. Now who exactly is this mysterious stranger? Their identity was uncovered, revealed to be a person by the name of (Y/n) (L/n)!"

When an image of your face came on screen, you nearly spat out your drink as you choked, "What the fu–"

The sudden noise from you had caught the attention of others around you. Almost immediately their eyes widened, some looking at the image beside the talking host and back at your face. Others bold enough to take out their cameras and start recording or snapping photos.

It appeared that one of Vil's super fans was even there, judging by the pin with his face on their bag and the smell of the perfume he last did an advertisement for. This particular fan got close, too close as she clutched her phone, obviously recording. "Oh my god, it's you! Are you really dating Vil? Seriously?"

By now all eyes and lenses in the cafe were on you as you awkwardly stood and gathered your things. "I, uh... I-I have to go." Without looking back, you sped out the door, nearly certain that some were still curiously following you.

When you looked at the huge screens over the Main Street of downtown, you saw your face and Vil's. As you walked, you swore people were looking, a crowd must've been forming behind you like a horde of zombies. No matter where you went, you could hear the talking hostess on phones in people's hands and small televisions in display windows.

As you heard those strangers behind you call your name, you refused to look back. When you felt their touch on your shoulder or feel them tug on your shirt, you felt your anxiety spike. Ripping yourself out of their grip, you increased your speed to a jog and ran into the closest store you saw.

As you looked around for a way out, someplace to hide, you spotted some changing rooms in the corner. Before those pursuers could find you, you made a beeline for the changing rooms and swiftly closed the curtains behind you. Lifting your feet off the ground to avoid being seen at all, you curled up on the small chair and went completely silent upon hearing more people enter the store. Thankfully, the changing rooms were very well hidden, so you should be safe for now.

Not even a second later, your phone began ringing. At first you were tempted to decline the call, already fearing that somehow those crazy host shows had gotten a hold of your number. But when you saw the smiling photo of a certain blonde man you set as his contact image, you immediately swiped up to answer the FaceTime call.

Vil's frazzled and alarmed face appeared on the screen. Before you could even say a word, he spoke in a slightly panicked tone, "My dear, are you alright?! Where are you at this very moment? The chauffeur has picked me up and we're on our way right now." So he just found out too.

When you informed him of your location and what had happened upon finding out, he appeared horrified that you had to hide in a changing room. Distantly you could hear him frustratingly tell the chauffeur, "I don't want to be there soon, I need to be there now!"

Vil could see you were obviously scared, and who wouldn't be after literally being chased by his fans? So he remained on the line, whispering sweet words of comfort as he attempted to remain calm for you. After a moment, he spoke again, "I'm going through a tunnel soon. I'm going to hang up, but once we're through, I'll call right back, do you understand? Whatever you do, do not check your social media accounts."

He hung up. You checked your social media accounts. You could only hope it was a bad dream, but your name being number one trending and your face on the day's top article, was enough to inform you that it was not some dream. Just a quick scroll and you could see users critiquing your appearance, many haters but also supporters in the midst. Your direct messages had +99 over them, meaning some of these strangers had even tried to directly contact you. You didn't have to be a genius to know that many of them were going to be harsh and unnecessary insults.

By the time the limousine arrived, many people had already left, but there were still the stragglers left behind. Stragglers which immediately took notice of the limousine pulling up and the familiar star emerging. Vil ignored them all, no matter if they approached or not, and went straight to the changing rooms where he fetched you. Instantly he embraced you, glad to see you safe. But the embrace did not last long. After all, you were still in the public eye, being followed and all. As of now, his priority was escorting you home and then he would deal with this.

Placing an arm around you, he guided you towards the car. He kept his head held high, appearing indifferent past his round sunglasses. But you knew better. You were hidden by the jacket he had wrapped around you, which you used to hide your face. Judging by the bright flashes, paparazzi had arrived on the scene, likely given a tip by one of your pursuers from earlier. These paparazzi would no doubt follow you and Vil all the way home.

Your name on their tongues with their unfamiliar voices, the bright flashing lights, the bodies all around you trying to get closer, it all felt like too much. That was why you were grateful that Vil rushed to get you back to the limousine safe and sound, and immediately had the chauffeur drive off once you both were secure inside.

Once the car took off, Vil embraced you again, tighter and for much longer. For now, you felt safe. Vil clutched you firmly as he murmured, “I apologize... I truly am so sorry for what you’ve gone through because of me.” Then, his voice became angry as he pulled away, but still held you by the shoulders as he assured, “This is unacceptable! They ruined everything...! They frightened you, they meddled into our private affairs, all of it is unforgivable! Judging by the view of the leaked image, it had to have been a staff member at the restaurant we dined at last night. I’ll see to it that whoever did it is ruined, and the company shall recompense us in some way. For now... please, depend on me. I apologize again, but I’ll do my very best to make things right.”

The night he gets you your very favorite drink and food, in order to comfort you. Anything you ask for at that time, is basically yours. He’s just so frightened, not because of the breach in privacy but he’s terrified that this’ll make you want to leave. It’s why he dedicates almost all his time and effort into silencing nasty rumors and gossips, or at least trying to. It’s impossible to really silence it.

For the next few days, Vil sticks by your side like glue. If you don’t want to go anywhere, he stays beside you. If you allow it, he’ll take you to work with him. If and when you do go to work, he’ll demand a small staff and is very meticulous about how cameras are used. He’s sort of developed a small list of rules. No photographs of you without your permission, no speaking about the incident or news of the incident unless you bring it up, and be very very careful about what you say about his beloved.

Now everyone and their mom seems to know about you. Its a huge deal, and everyone is talking about it. Some discussed your looks, others like fans were enraged and jealous that you were dating Vil, and there were those that supported you and were sympathetic. Everyone had an opinion. Although you didn’t read them, you were avoiding social media for your own sanity.

When you were leaving an airport with Vil from a recent flight, that was thankfully private, the welcome was not so private. The news was still relatively fresh, with many still attempting to squeeze out any piece of information. You were welcomed by crowds of Vil fans and curious onlookers, with paparazzi and camera men in the mix. The clicks of cameras and the people’s shouts were deafening.

Vil had some guards that kept everyone else within an arm’s length away, but still, there were so many people... You clutched Vil’s arm tighter as he patted your knuckles with his other hand, noticing your distress and quickening his pace to get you to someplace you can relax.

Abruptly, you heard running footsteps. When you turned around, you were stunned to see a girl had somehow wormed her way past some of the guards and nearly lunged at you or Vil. You weren’t sure who she was aiming for, if she wanted to attack you or cling to Vil. Just before she could grab either you or him, she was yanked back by guards.

The blonde beside you appeared appalled and disgusted, but he never stopped moving. No, he only kept moving faster, letting airport security handle that one rabid fan as he continued to escort you to safety. But when he was finally behind closed doors, oh boy...

Vil was absolutely livid. His fingers ran over your hair, checking you over for injuries, and smoothing down the wrinkles in your outfit. All of his actions were gentle in contrast to his harsh tone and enraged expression. “How dare they try to touch you...?! Those disgusting no-good--– They have no right! Someone as lowly as them, would only sully you! Right now we need more guards! I cannot risk you getting hurt! Who knows what she would’ve done? From now on, you will be accompanied by an entourage of a dozen bodyguards. I will continue to stick by you and protect you. I’m sorry, my dear, you do not deserve to go through this. You only deserve the best.”

He gazed down at you through his lashes, his anger melting into regret. Damn it all, if only he had been more vigilant that night when the photograph was taken. If he had noticed, then none of this would be happening! “This will not break us apart, I will not allow it. You know I love you, despite all that’s happening and everything that is being said, right? I love you so much, so please be patient with me as I organize everything for your own wellbeing.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst writing #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #yandere vil schoenheit #soft yan vil

2K notes · View notes

whoreforharleezy03 · 2 years ago

Note

hey can you write a fic where jack and the reader meet after 2 years of their breakup and then they have sex and jack apologizes for leaving her (the reader is a famous singer and jack left her for dua lipa, jack and the reader were in a super private relationship) please can you make it angst too.(also the reader never dated anyone after jack left her she stopped believing in love)please can you do it angst and smut ?

Okay, I am LIVING for exes to lovers stories or enemies to lovers I love that shit. Thank you for the request🫶🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Girl, don’t be a party pooper and come with me!”

Your best friend Isys had been nagging you to come clubbing with her for years now, you had always said no because you knew what would happen, you would get drunk, maybe dance with a stranger for some minutes, go to his or your place and hookup. You weren really a quick fuck type of girl. When it came to sex, it had to have feelings and actually mean something, not just with someone you met on the street.

Two years ago, you broke up with your boyfriend of nine years. You were completely heartbroken, but he was the one who cheated on you. He was the one who rather wanted to be with a world wide famous singer than to be with his highschool sweetheart, the love of his life.

“I’m sorry, Isys. I can’t.”

“Y/n, come on, you need to have some fun.”

“I have fun.” You defended yourself, feeling quite offended by her comment.

“Oh, really? When was the last time you had sex, Y/n?”

Fuck.

“Two years.”

Isys gasped.

“TWO YEARS?? YOU HAVEN’T HAD SEX SINCE WITH JACK?!”

You weren’t planning on not having intercorse for two years, it just happened to be that way. There were some times after a few dates that you thought you were going to, but you didn’t feel the same connection as you felt with Jack.

“Honey, you need to catch a dick!”

You laughed at that comment, you know what, maybe you did. And who knows, you might meet someone special.

As you walked into some bar Isys picked out, you looked around the room full of people. You didn’t expect it to be so crowded.

“I’m going to get us some free drinks.”

“Are the drinks free here?” You asked.

“No, but, I'm going to try my best to flirt with the bartender here and get some.” Isys said as she left you.

Even though you were in a room full of people, you felt so alone. You decided to sit down at some tables you saw in the corner of the place. As you tried to calm yourself down, you saw a familiar face at the bar stools, but who was that- oh god.

He saw you too, Jack, your ex-boyfriend.

“Y/n!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Get up and leave, quickly, get the fuck up and leave.

You stood up and practically ran to the exit, but Jack followed you.

You stood outside waiting for a taxi or something, not noticing Jack behind you.

“Y/n.”

You turned around, shaking your head. You weren’t ready to talk to him, to be honest, you were never going to be ready to talk to him. You guys hadn’t talked since the breakup, but now you had to face one of your greatest fears i guess.

“What do you want, Jack?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You're sorry?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I cheated on you, I’m sorry about not talking to you for two years, I mean I could have reached out to you, but I didn't.”

That was true, he could’ve at least talked to you or say he was sorry TWO years ago, but better late than never i guess.

His soft blue eyes were starting to turn a bit red, was he crying?

Wow, he really was sorry.

“You don’t have to, but if you want you can have some coffee at my place, but if you still haven’t forgiven me, i understand.

Now you were in a tough situation, should you? Or should you not?

Your mouths were practically attacking each other. You had been making out for about ten minutes now. You pulled away to breath and looked at his face, noticing he had lipstick smeared all over his lips, you giggled. Jack then continued kissing your lips, the moment was heated, the feeling of his lips to yours felt euphoric. Jack started to unclip your bra, struggling with it for a second but then getting the hang of it. He had never been so attractive to you, this was your soulmate.

You had decided to go with Jack. The first minutes were awkward, not really knowing what to say or do, then he offered you some wine, and boy, oh boy did the mood switch up quick.

Now both of your clothes were on the floor. Your tongues fighting for dominance.

Jack stopped kissing your lips and started to go full on, on your neck.

“Do you have a condom?” You moaned out.

Jack stopped at what he was doing and got up, being fully naked, his erect penis showing very well. He walked over to his drawer and picked up a condom. He walked over to his bed and sat beside you, putting the condom on.

“Now where was i.” Jack continued to kiss your neck. You played with his curls while moaning quietly out of pleasure.

“Wait.”

Jack stopped and looked at you, still not finished with his business.

“What about Dua?”

Jack looked at you confused.

“What about her?”

“Okay, Jack, I love you. But, if you're still with Dua, then I'm not doing this. I was heartbroken by that and I don't want her to go through the same thing.

“Yeah, well, that relationship lasted for a week or something.”

“Oh.”

“The problem was, she wasn’t you.” Jack said as he kissed you.

Jack had been pounding into you for about thirty minutes. This was your fifth round so far, remembering his stamina, it could be five more. The feeling of him inside you again was so good. It was like opening a big gift on Christmas. Or passing an exam you had been working on so hard for.

You grabbed the sheets as you screamed his name. Even though his dick was just six centimeters long, it felt way bigger inside you.

“Fuck, Y/n.” Jack smacked your ass as he came for the fifth time.

It was quiet, the only thing you could hear was you and Jack's loud breaths.

He plopped himself beside you. The silence was awkward, and you were not the best in awkward situations. You looked at the clock, 3:35 AM.

“It’s late. I should get going.” You stood up from the bed and picked up all your clothes from the floor, starting to dress yourself.

“Y/n.” He sighed

You looked at Jack, trying to hurry into your clothes so you could just leave.

“I know what I did was terrible, but I didn't mean this to be a one night stand.”

Oh, he wanted more. Now you were going to be the heartbreaker.

“Jack…, I’m sorry. I just, I just don’t think I can trust you again after what you did, again, i’m sorry.”

You walked out of his bedroom. Jack felt disappointed when he heard his front door close.

“Fuck!” Jack said to himself as he buried his face into his pillow.

As you opened the door to yours and Isys apartment, you felt guilty. But you were right, how could you trust him after what he did to you.

“Where have you been.” You heard Isys yell from the kitchen.

Oh, fuck no. You forgot her.

“Fuck, Isys, I’m sorry.”

“You do realize you left me right?” She cut you off.

“I know Isys, i-.”

“You didn’t answer any of my text or calls, i was so worried about you.”

“I know, I'm sorry. I just went home with a guy.”

“Really? With who?” It was like Isys’ madness went away, she got so excited.

“Just, a stranger.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut

110 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 3 years ago

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Alpha Jungkook x Omega Oc!

Genre : Angst , Hurt/ Comfort.

Chapter 1 ⋆ Chapter 2 ⋆ Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ⋆ Chapter 5 ⋆

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary : Nine months after her marriage ends, Kim Heejin is a reclusive artist, who works out of a renovated warehouse in Busan, her days and nights spent with canvas and paint. Its exactly what she’s ever wanted, to be left alone. And yet, that nagging feeling of incompletion keeps her on her toes. And perhaps, it is that longing for something substantial, something real that pushes her to give her flawed but lovable ex-husband another chance.

Chapter 9

“I… No. Just… please tell him I’ll be down…I’ll come down to the lobby to meet him.” I said quickly, panicking at the idea of having him here. I’d barely been here a day but this was still my space. And if I had him here then his scent would just seep into every nook and corner.

The room would smell like him then… And what would I do after he left?

God, what was I even thinking? Head swimming, I crawled to the edge of the bed and breathed shakily.

It felt surreal, climbing out of the bed and moving to the vanity . I stared at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the makeup bag I kept with me all the time. Wide eyes and parted lips, creamy gold skin turning lily white because of how the blood had just drained after that phone call.

I looked petrified .

Jungkook… I thought numbly. Jungkook’s waiting downstairs and I’m going to see him.

What is he thinking.... What is he feeling... why is he even here?

You’re not responsible for his emotions, Taehyung’s soothing voice in my head helped a bit but not a whole lot. What about my emotions, I though desperately, grabbing the tube of gloss and slowly uncapping it. I ran the end of it over my lips and felt my fingers tremble because I didn’t know why I felt this need …to look beautiful.

I didn’t need to, I though miserably. Everyone knew omegas were beautiful. Beta supermodels were beautiful yes but they couldn’t hold a candle to me, at least for someone like Jungkook. He was an alpha, his brain was built to find me attractive. I had evolutionary genetics on my side, which mean that if I ever actually wanted to seduce Jungkook , he wouldn’t really stand a chance .

But I didn’t want that.

I had had enough of that. Enough of seeing handsome, rich alphas being reluctantly attracted to me. They made it obvious too. Most of the hate mail I got stemmed from angry wives or girlfriends accusing me of seducing their men , even though I’d never so much as laid my eyes on them. It was so unfair.

I didn’t enjoy watching them lose their minds at the sight and scent of me, because i knew that deep down, they thought that all omegas were scum.

Manipulative, sex driven , greedy and selfish . Those were the labels I got plastered with , on the media and on the streets.

And Jungkook wasn’t different, I reminded myself firmly, pulling away from the mirror and grabbing the loose powder and dusting down some of it on the apple of my cheeks and down the length of my nose.

He didn’t think any different than the others. Jungkook’s views on omegas were just as archaic and bigoted as everyone else’s .

He just didn’t act on them .

Sighing, I dropped the lipgloss back in the back and brushed my hair off my face. On a whim , I pulled off the hair tie holding the thick strands together, letting the wavy tresses fall over my shoulder. I hadn’t cut my hair in a long time and it felt to my hips now. My stylist was adamant that it added to my aesthetic.

A primal siren, she had said staring at me in awe, like something eternal and beautifully dangerous. We’re lucky you seem incapable of hate, Heejin ...because I think you could bring grown men to their knees with that body and that face.

I felt nauseous at the thought of it.

Walking to the elevator felt like walking the plank and I had stop a couple of times, just to breathe deeply. I had to be smart about this. I was in therapy. Taehyung had taught me how to handle situations like this and while my heart was pounding too hard and my brain was too scrambled to use any of his therapy techniques, I still had some of my cognitive abilities intact.

He came here, i thought desperately.

He came looking for you and that means he isn’t nervous or worried or overthinking this because he doesn’t have feelings for you. If you want to come out of this unscathed, you need to get your head on straight. You need to pretend that you didn’t just have a minor mental breakdown at the thought of him dating someone else.

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply before stepping into the elevator. The ride down to the lobby was barely a few seconds and when I stepped out, I realized the place was way too crowded for such an exclusive Hotel. And then I remembered that people were here for the Art Festival. I glanced at the reception desk, covertly, noting a conspicuous lack of Jeon Jungkook. The lady behind the desk held her hand up when she spotted me .

“Ms. Kim? Mr. Jeon just went to get you a drink...He’s over by the breakfast counter over there.” She pointed out the dining space where people were walking about getting breakfast and I swallowed, feeling hot and cold as I cautiously stepped into the crowd, trying to find a that familiar head of thick dark hair.

I felt the apprehension build as I tugged on my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to reign in the chaos in my mind but it was impossible, everything too loud and too messy. I looked around and then, it hit me.

His scent.

I felt my lips part in surprise, and it felt like someone had turned the volume down , noises fading into a dull hum at the back of my mind as I stared at him. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I took a second to just....look.

He looked incredible.

There was really no other word for it. Incredibly handsome, Incredibly beautiful and so incredibly perfect as the late morning sun lit up the room, picking out the shine on his white silk shirt. I breathed in deep, my mindeasily picking out the musky pine scent of him and I stepped closer, moving straight towards him and I caught the exact moment my scent his senses.

He jerked a bit, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide before he turned, lips parted and gaze a bit unfocused as he looked around.

When he caught sight of me, he just blinked.

I smiled weakly, body going limp with relief because.... because this was Jungkook. Not some monster I had to run from. This was Jungkook....even at his worst he had been better than some of the other people I’d met in life.

I looked down at the drink in his hand and smiled a bit as he made his way over.

“ This isn’t the same as buying me a coffee.” I said shakily as he finally stepped upto me.

His eyes danced with warmth.

“What makes you think I can afford one? Besides, aren’t you the hotshot artist? Shouldn’t you be the one buying me stuff?” He said softly.

“Just saw you on the front cover of a magazine. We both know you’re far from destitute..” Even through the smile, I felt the tug of emotion as I stared at him, felt the difference in him like night and day, the light and joy and ...contentment that seemed to radiate off him .

He smiled and held the drink out to me gently.

“ Heejin-ah.” He whispered.

And somehow it was the sound of his voice, wrapping around the syllables of my name that finally did it.

I felt the tears brim over, my lips parting in choked laughter as I stepped close and wrapped both my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. I felt him hold me, infinitely gentle and I exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t miss you, at all.” I said shakily. He laughed lightly.

“I missed you , too.” He stroked the back of my head gently and I sighed, fingers curling on the silk of his shirt. The fabric felt like liquid in my fingers and I played with it for a second, intensely aware that people were starting to stare. That this embrace had gone on for longer than social norms dictated but I couldn’t bring myself to care, letting my chin rest against his shoulder blades.

And it was almost frightening.....how easy it was to pretend we weren’t broken at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was so small when I last held her... I can’t believe she’s running around.” I said, awed, listening to Jungkook tell me about how Mina liked to climb everywhere. He laughed, shaking his head.

"She’s growing bigger everyday. I can barely keep up.” Jungkook smiled, holding a hand out for me to step over the wooden slats that lined the tiny archway that led to the door to his building. I hesitated before lightly gripping his hand in mine, the gesture somehow feeling more intimate that it was.

“You’re not staying at the Firenze?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again when he let go.

it was such a ridiculous thing but I’d never held hands with him. And It felt ridiculously nice, to slot my fingers with his, feel them in between mine. His palm against mine, calloused but somehow so comforting.

I’d forgotten how warm he was.

Don’t. Don’t fall down this rabbit hole again, Heejin. We talked about this. He doesn’t think of you that way. He doesn’t. And neither should you. its unfair to him. He doesn’t deserve that.

“No... As you can see my apartment is barely ten minutes away and Soeun has her exams so its easier for her to watch over Mina here at the apartment.

“Soeun?” I asked curiously.

“Park Soeun? She’s a University student who lives with me. She’s doing a correspondence course in fashion . So she’s home all the time and she helps out with Mina. And she speaks Italian so that’s a huge plus... ” He smiled. “ you’ll like her. She’s a good kid.”

Don’t make that face. Don’t fucking make that face, Heejin.

I struggled to keep my face straight , like I wasn’t feeling the weight of a dozen bricks at the base of my stomach.

“A roommate...then..?” I asked quietly and he shrugged.

“Something like that. But mostly she helps take care of Mina when I’m out on an assignment.” He smiled and led me past two flight of stairs up to the studio apartment.

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stopped in front of a wrought iron grill, gripping one end and sliding it open with ease. And then he rang the small bell n the side. I shuffled back and forth on my foot, heart racing.

The door opened and I blinked because of how young the girl who opened the door was. A second later she was beaming, moving forward and wrapping both her arms around me.

“Unnie!” She squealed, hugging me so close that I almost choked. Completely thrown I could only gape at Jungkook who was laughing .

“Oh, I forgot to mention..she’s a bit of a fan. “ He teased lightly and I smiled awkwardly, watching as she pulled back to stare at me, her gaze trained on my face unblinkingly.

“Whoa...” She reached out and lightly touched my cheek with her forefinger making me jump. She flinched as well, flushing red.

“Shit..sorry...I just... I’ve never... I’ve never met an omega before.” She said softly. “ You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt my heart pound, steeping back instinctively, an overwhelming urge to hide , anxiety pooling in my stomach as she continued to stare at me. I hated the attention and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Soeun, enough. Don’t make it weird.” Jungkook said sternly, voice hard and the girl immediately flushed, bowing apologetically.

“Sorry...I.. sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ... You’re pretty.” She said again before turning to Jungkook.

“I have to get some stuff for my exhibit, Jungkook oppa... Mina’s asleep. i’ll be staying over at Vince’s place for the night though. Is that okay?”

“Sure..have fun.” Jungkook smiled, “ Vince is her boyfriend.” He explained and Soeun nodded happily.

“Italian men are absolutely amazing unnie...you should try some.” She winked and I laughed despite myself.

“I just might...” I said with a grin, watching as she walked over to slip on a pair of sneakers from the small shoe closet near the door. She waved enthusiastically all but bouncing away and I blinked at him , shaking my head.

“I feel a hundred years old right now.” I said softly, still stunned by the girl’s exorbitant energy. Jungkook laughed at that

“She definitely has that effect on people... Come on, I’ll show you around.” He held his hand out and I smiled , taking his fingers mine and letting him tug me further into the studio apartment.

I looked around, taking in the full blown prints of Mina and Jungkook , caught in adorable poses in front of different tourist spots in Florence. I saw how much she looked like Jungkook now, and how openly affectionate they looked together, the love evident even in the still photos.

And then my eyes fell on a familiar painting , my stomach lurching.

“You... “ i turned to him in a rush and he was staring at me with a small smile.

“I had to bring that. It pretty much saved me, that painting.” He said casually, stepping close and running his fingers all over the print.

“When you told me this is how Sooah saw me...” He traced the picture carefully before glancing at me,” it made me realize that Sooah didn’t just want a baby.....she wanted a baby with me. She saw me as a father. As someone who could raise and nurture a tiny human and that... that’s amazing isn’t it?” He sighed, staring at me.

He looked beautiful, I thought with an ache deep inside me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life and it seemed almost too good to be true. That he was here, at reach. So close. I wondered if this was it. This had to be a sign. A sign that we’d come full circle. That it was over. That we could finally break free from all that we’d been through, and look back at Jungkook’s past with fondness instead of pain.

And perhaps, just perhaps I could reach out and touch him with something more than just the love you have for a friend. . Perhaps I could reach out and touch him, without feeling guilt and foreboding.

I exhaled shakily stepping up and running my fingers over the canvas. It was nothing fancy... Just a painting a painting of Jungkook holding Mina up by her waist, high over his head, staring up into her face with all the love and adoration in the world, The child in the painting doesn’t look exactly like Mina, of course, but I’d had no idea , seeing as Sooah had commissioned the painting when she was pregnant. But Jungkook.... Jungkook looked exactly like he did now : Happy and at peace.

“You’re alright, then?” I asked quietly , a wealth of meaning behind the words and he smiled , nodding gently.

“I’m fine…” He whispered , “ And I’m so glad I can tell you that, like this. Thank you for coming , Heejin-ah . I know you owe me nothing but.. I wanted to show you that… it wasn’t all bad you know. What we went through… Something good did come out of it.” He whispered.

I choked out a sob.

“I lied.” I whispered. “ I did miss you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened.

“I have a lot to be sorry for. But I don’t want to remind you of those things. I just want you to know that… I understand what you went through…those six months. I understand that it was difficult and painful and i… I’m grateful that you didn’t give up on me. And I’m grateful that you stayed in my life. Because I know I didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserve to be loved Jungkook.” I said quietly. “ Its not wrong to move on. You deserve to… find happiness again.”

He stared at me, his gaze soft and gentle.

“I can almost believe it, when you say it that way.” He laughed. “ And… you know… I’m not sure if its love. But there’s someone I’ve been…. Well, I can sort of see myself with her. .” He grinned a little, smile boyish as he ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Wait… was he going to?....

“ I met her at Taehyung’s practice, a year ago. Her name is Lee Hyorin.” Jungkook looked at me, doe eyes shining with excitement.

And just like that the world ended.

Or so it felt.

It was like being dipped in icy cold water, the shock of it rendering me speechless, lips parted and breath catching in lungs.

Blood rushed through my ears, so fast that I felt lightheaded, my legs nearly giving out. White noise filled my skull, pain lancing sharp through my heart like a thousand paper cuts, and I couldn’t really breathe. It took a few seconds…. For my heart to catch up with what my mind had just processed. And when it finally did, the pain was so excruciating, I had to clench my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm to ground myself.

“She’s an alpha…and she lost her husband around the same time Sooah passed..” Jungkook gave me a soft smile. “ She’s actually a curator at one of the museums here. She’s the one who made all the arrangements for me to move here to Florence. ”

“Wow… That’s…” devastating,. “ That’s good news. Jungkook.. I.. How long…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow. “ How long have you guys been dating?”

“About three months now. We’re taking it very slow, because we aren’t really ready. She has a son too. He’s three years old. Mina loves him so that’s a plus.” He laughed.

My lungs constricted, breathing difficult and my head swam because ….. what. Realization set in so quickly, I was left reeling. I was in love with this bastard, I thought miserably. So in love with him that it felt like he was shredding my heart into ribbons. Every word of his mouth felt like a sharp deep stab, straight through the center of my heart and the pulsing, beating organ was on the verge of giving out.

“She’s going to be there at the dinner tonight at the Festival. She’s one of the organizers by the way. She’s kind of the reason I got in, I think.” He laughed , looking abashed and what a load of bull that was. Jungkook was successful and well known. Superbly talented at his chosen field. She was lucky to have him.

How can she have him when I’m the one who fixed him? How is that fucking fair?

“She really understands the things I’ve been going through, the past few months and because we both still attend therapy with Taehyung, we’re able to talk about a lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t share with others…” Jungkook was saying and I tuned him out, not wanting to hear another word.

I swallowed, choking on bile. I could feel sweat gathering on my scalp, my skin clammy and damp , the air between us shifting into something poisonous and filled with so much dismay, it was a miracle he hadn’t picked up on it.

Couldn’t he sense how distressed I was? Couldn’t he see how his words were hurting? Couldn’t he fucking see that I couldn’t live without him? Why on earth couldn’t he see me the way he apparently saw every other woman on the damn planet…..

Because he’s a shitty Alpha, I thought miserably, willing myself not to burst into tears. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha back then and he’s the same now.

A low, distressed cry began somewhere behind him and he jumped.

“Oh, shit she’s up… come on, Heejin.” He said with a bright smile, turning around and rushing down a small hallway and I willed myself to breathe in deeply, reminding myself that this wasn’t the end of the world. I could get through this. Besides, it was Mina.

Beautiful, perfect Mina who had been there for me. She would see me and she would give me that sweet gummy smile of hers, does eyes twinkling and I would get through this. Because her smile was what was important. Her smile and her joy and her happiness.

The sobbing had slowed down to small hiccups and I stepped past the threshold cautiously, watching as Jungkook bent over the large crib, carefully lifting her out and into his arms. She looked breathtaking, an absolutely gorgeous little girl . I stared, mesmerized as I stepped closer. My arms ached, and my chest tightened. Lips wobbling, I exhaled sharply, moving to reach for her.

She turned to glance at me and just as my fingers brushed her cheek, she recoiled.

Hard.

A loud wail tore through her tiny body and I felt my eyes go wide. Her casual little cry had turned into a sobbing , loud wail and I could smell the distress in her , the fear and distrust as she curled away from me. Jungkook looked stunned as well, instinctively drawing her close and embracing her, moving away from me because….

Because I was the reason, she was distressed.

My skin went ice cold at the revelation and I stumbled back, stunned.

“I… I’m sorry.” I choked out, confused and disoriented. Jungkook looked stricken, gently rocking her back and forth and she clung to him, gripping his shirt and I bit my lips, moving further back and I glanced at him, my heart shattering.

“She’s …She’s still sleepy… She doesn’t do well with strangers…” He said softly, looking upset, “ Maybe you could…wait outside…”

Stranger…. Was that what I was?

“I… I’ll go. I’ll just go.” I turned on my heel, rushing out of the door and struggling to breathe in air, my heart clenching so hard I was sure I was going to pass out. I felt my knees give out when I reached the couch, dropping down and drawing my knees up , wrapping my arms around my legs . I didn’t know how long I sat there, fighting sobs and choking on air…and when I finally came to myself, the sobs from the room had died out.

“She’s fallen asleep again.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence and I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I felt him move closer, felt his scent hit me as he stepped right up to me, kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I looked up at him, lips wobbling as I took in his handsome face. A face that was so deeply carved into my heart and my soul, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him. The tears came then, helpless and endless and so painful.

He pressed in closer, cupping my face in his palms, thumb brushing the tears that spilled over so relentlessly.

“Heejin…” He whispered and I let my fingers curl around his wrist as his thumb kept brushing the curve of my cheeks. I took a deep , shaky breath .

“She doesn’t remember me…. “ I whispered, “ She doesn’t recognize me at all…She hates me……” I choked out , despair filling every last crevice of my insides, gut twisting as I remembered how Mina had twisted away from me, how her scent had soured in distress at the sight of me, at the touch of my fingers.

And I wondered if it was different with this other woman..Hyorin, wasn’t it? Did Mina climb into her arms with ease? Did she curl into her chest and sleep? The way she used to with me, when she was a month old and missing the warmth of a mother.. ….

All those nights spent in that tiny nursery, lying on the cold unforgiving floor, watching the rise and fall of Mina’s chest through the dark room…telling myself it was worth it… it was worth being touched against my will, worth being treated like filth by a man driven mad with grief and anger….all because of this baby…this tiny little baby who had needed me….

And now…she didn’t even know who I was…..worse…she was repulsed by the very sight of me… I couldn’t cope.

“Look at me…” Jungkook rasped, voice raw and cracking. “she doesn’t hate you, Heejin… she just … you feel new to her… different…”

I shook my head, unable to think about anything beyond the sheer devastation that filled me, the way his daughter had pulled away and run, had refused to come anywhere near me. I realized with lancing pain that I’d wanted to see her, way more than I’d wanted to see Jungkook .

Because she was the reason I’d hung on for so long in that marriage which had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life…. the only reason I’d stuck around . Mina …Having her in my arms, her scent against my face, that had been the only genuine happiness I’d experienced in a marriage filled with sheer , unending misery.

“I… she… Why doesn’t she remember? “ I breathed, sagging into his arms, tears soaking his shoulders and his palm ran up and down my back.

“Because she was a baby. Heejin…. I left when she was a baby…”

“Why did you?” I snapped. “ Did it hurt you so much? The thought of living under the same sky as me ? Why you did you go?” I demanded.

Jungkook pulled back, hands coming up to grip my shoulder, holding me at arms length.

“Look at me.” He whispered. “ I had to … You know I had to go….I was hurting you. I was… I was draining you of life. Destroying you… “

Jungkook’s words reminded me of who he was. Of who I was… Of who I was to him.

I choked out, sobbing.

“I hate you. You treated me like scum. Like a crutch….. Like some sort of tool to get better and you just left… you…”

You found someone better. You broke me down and now you’ve gone and found someone better….because I was never good enough for you… I was never someone you could love….

“I had to let you go. I had to end that relationship because it was tainted with so much grief and anger and selfishness and greed. I knew that anything I did afterwards would be tainted by my actions… I… I had to make amends, Heejin. And do you think for a second, that it wasn’t the hardest thing I ever did? That walking out on you wasn’t one of the most devastating things I’ve ever experienced? But I did it for us… for this…”

I stared at him.

“And what is this?” I asked brokenly.

“This is me, being able to touch you like this.” Jungkook pressed a palm to my cheek, “ And not feeling guilt or sadness or grief or loss. I did it so we could have this…this… This thing where I can look at you and hold you and see that you’re healing. That you’re doing better… That you’re living the life you want…. That you’re happy. This is me standing here , in front of you and smiling because I’m happy too. Happy that you’re here. ” He exhaled, “ I’m happy that despite all the hurt we’ve been through for and because of each other, I can look at you now and tell you, honestly, that I’m glad to see you.”

What a joke.. What a fucking joke.

I smiled shakily.

“Well… “ I said softly, my stomach churning because I was done. Done with him and mostly with myself. “ Isn’t that absolutely wonderful.”

His gaze softened and he smiled.

“I want us to be friends, Heejinah. Even though we don’t see or talk to each other, I think of you often. And when Mina’s old enough to understand , I’ll tell her all about you… I want you in our lives. You’re a friend. ”

I stared at him , feeling the words echo in my skull . It left an acrid taste on my senses, the way he put me into this neat little box, friend. So ….insignificant. Everyone had hundreds of friends. There was nothing even remotely special about being someone’s friend.

Friend just meant replaceable and forgettable. And just like Mina didn’t remember me…. Someday Jungkook wouldn’t either. The knowledge filled my veins spreading all over my body and leaving a fierce, heavy ache in my chest.

It was my fault, I thought despondently. My fault because I had been an idiot.

Jungkook was the sane one here , I thought miserably. These nine months, while I’d been dwelling on him and worrying for him…he had done the healthy thing , by moving on with someone he could actually envision a future with….

What had I done, these past nine months? Dreamt up a fantasy world where somehow we found our way back to each other and built a life together… It seemed so foolish now, in the light of Jungkook’s words and his confession….

Jungkook had done all of this, not for me…but for himself. For his daughter whom he loved and for his wife , whose memory he wanted to honor. And perhaps it was my own delusion that made me think that I’d played some stellar role in his healing…. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, he would have gotten better just the same…. Maybe I hadn’t been a tool …as much as a hindrance …to his healing.

I shook my head, bitterness coating my tongue.

“I should get going.” I whispered , voice shaking.

This is it, I told myself. This is the last time you look at him with that heaviness in your heart. You deserve better. You deserve… a lot of things. And just because people don’t give it to you doesn’t mean you have to settle for less……

“So soon? Hyorin will be back in a couple of hours… I could show you some of my work, and we could get lunch ….”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to meet her in his home. Didn’t want to see him being domestic and affectionate and …normal with her when all I’d ever seen was Jungkook in his anger and grief, either yelling abuses or gripping me with a lust that was tainted with violence and rage. I stared at his hands, the ones I’d liked holding….

How did I forget? That those were the same hands that had held me down and done things that should, rightfully have landed him in prison?

I shook my head, to clear the images out of my head. Looking at him now, Jungkook looked eager, happy and healed. And I realized that he’d just pushed all of his own actions out of his mind. Forgotten all about it. And that was fair. He probably didn’t even remember any of it. He had been drunk out of his mind, lost in his head and surely, forgetting must’ve been easy… A relief.

I didn’t begrudge him that.

But…

I hadn’t been drunk. I’d been stone cold sober under him on that bed and so, maybe forgetting didn’t come that easily for me. And I was glad that Jungkook could move on and be happy but….

But I couldn’t stay here and pretend that it was the same for me. I wasn’t happy or healed, I thought miserably. And maybe , maybe the sight of him moving on was a sign that I had to stop thinking that healing meant going back to him and his daughter.

“Heejin… What’s wrong? Is it because of Mina.. she’s just not used to…” He began but I quickly pressed a palm to his chest, smiling.

“Strangers.” I said softly. “ I know. That’s not it… You know I have to introduce my exhibit at dinner tonight. I don’t know what the itinerary is or what I’m supposed to say…. None of it.. I need to meet my agent and prep myself a bit. Its alright…I’ll see you tonight.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry… I can’t walk you back because Mina-“

“Of course. Don’t worry about it…. I’ll just…”

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“Jungkook!” A strong voice called out and I went still.

“Hyorin?” Jungkook’s face lit up and I felt my stomach churn. God, the universe really was against me wasn’t it? Sighing in defeat, I wrapped my arms around myself, sitting back down on the couch and waiting.

Behind me , I could hear hushed whispers, soft laughter and shuffling feet. My mouth went dry.

“Ms. Kim….”

I turned around, greeted by the sight of a tall, strapping young woman, pretty by any standards. She was dressed in a pant suit , her hair long and straight, hitting the top of her shoulders. She looked smart… Important.

“Ms. Lee… Its nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and I shook it gently. Jungkook smiled at her fondly and his phone rang from somewhere inside the studio.

“Hang on that’s probably Soeun…” He smiled at me and moved away and I watched him leave before shifting my gaze to Hyorin, who was staring down at me with a small smile.

“Are you here in Italy by yourself? Or with one of your many …uh… patrons ?” She smirked.

I blinked.

“Patrons?” I asked softly. “ Excuse me?”

“Jungkook and I’ve been following all the stories about you, back in Korea. You get around quite a lot… don’t you? Every alpha within a 100 mile radius wants a piece of the lovely Kim Heejin… And honestly, could anyone blame them? You look exquisite.”

I stared at her, stunned. The implication was so obvious that I would be an idiot not to realize what she was hinting at. So this was the woman , Jungkook chose? Yet another prejudiced bigot?

I laughed a bit, feeling my heart sink.

“I’m not seeing anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.” I said quietly.

Hyorin smirked at that.

“Of course you aren’t… We all know that isn’t really something your kind does… monogamy, right?”

“Do you have a problem with me Hyorin ssi?” I asked roughly and she laughed.

“Oh come on.. we’re all adults, here. And Heejin, you agreed to be a part of this festival, knowing full well, that’s what we think . Its because deep down you know I’m right….. Omegas can’t stay with one alpha. They need sex to survive and they are usually open to it with anyone. Not that I’m blaming you or judging you for it. It’s just how you’re built.”

I smiled wide, ignoring the urge to claw at her face. .

“Well, you’ve definitely got me all figured out haven’t you? “ I shook my head, glancing at Jungkook who was making his way over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and I smiled, glancing at her.

“ Hyorin ssi was just telling me how my sub gender makes it impossible for me to not go around whoring with every alpha I see…….” I glanced at him and Jungkook straightened, looking stunned, “ Well, I hope you two enjoy your beautiful monogamous relationship with each other something an omega like me can only fantasize about…. Right Jungkook?” I smiled and he looked completely lost.

“Wait…What? Hyorin what did you say?” He demanded and she was glaring at me now.

“Please don’t take it personally, I was only talking about omegas in general. “ Hyorin frowned, before bowing and moving away to stalk off in the direction of the bedrooms and I watched her, feeling dirty and terrible.

“Heejin, ignore her.. she’s just old fashioned and-“

“Is that what you’re going to call it?” I snapped and Jungkook froze.

“Heejin…”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m not upset about what she said. I’m upset that she feels comfortable enough, spouting that bullshit to me , in your house. Makes me wonder what else she’s told you about omegas, and how much of it you probably agreed with.”

Jungkook stared at me , lips parted.

“I… I don’t feel that way. You know that.” He said stiltedly.

“Do I? All I know is that she knows about me, about who I am and apparently, she can call me a slut…. In front of you, without worrying about it upsetting you. And that tells me you’re as much of a bigot as she is.”

“Heejin… You know that’s not it. We all grow up being fed certain things and –“

“But you did grow up right?” I snapped. “ you grew up and you can think and act for yourself. As can she. Once you’re an adult, you don’t have a single fucking excuse for being racist or homophobic or bigoted because being an adult means having the ability to unlearn the toxic things you’ve been taught and relearn how to be a decent fucking human.”

I shook my head as he stared at me.

“And you know what…please just… just don’t call me or consider me as a friend.” I laughed. “ Because I don’t think I can consider you one. Not anymore. You can’t…...You can’t just love certain parts of me and be disgusted by others you know? I don’t need a friend who can care about me and love me and help me as long as he can forget that I’m an omega….. I need a friend who can love every jagged, broken , part of me. Who can call out people who talk bullshit at me , who can look someone in the eye and tell them they’re wrong when they’re calling me names and that’s not who you are……. You’re not it.” I snapped.

Jungkook looked stricken, reaching out to hold me and I stepped away, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Heejin, you’re right … I’ll talk to her… I’ll…” He began but I shook my head.

“Whatever. Just don’t call me a friend. We can’t be friends. Let’s just be what we always were , yeah? A big fucking mistake that never should have happened.”

I stormed out of the door, shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, there are no flights available for today?” I snapped. “Tell them money isn’t an issue. I need to get out of this place right now.”

Minho looked incredibly stricken, hair messy from how often he’d run his fingers through.

“ We just arrived seven hours ago, Hee. Of course there’s no flight yet…. We can stay another day…attend the dinner and-“

“No.” I snapped. “ Absolutely not. I’m not here because they find my art good or worth putting up. I’m here because they know the alphas around here will want to pay more , to pour in more cash for a chance with me.” I held the embossed booklet up, waving it in his face.

“Heejin…” He protested but I shook my head.

“ Did you see the cost to get into my pane ?. Extra ….for alphas? And yet…apparently they had to pre book it and its filled? You think any of the lecherous bastards who paid money to see me , gives a shit about my art? And apparently, there’s a meet and greet, for alphas only if they purchase seven or more paintings worth over 10000 Euros. Do you think, that’s what I’m worth?”

Minho looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

“I .. I’m sorry, Hee. You’re right. Its offensive . And an insult to your art and talent. We shouldn’t have come here, you’re right. And I regret it… But just… give me a few hours, yeah? I’ll find a way to get us out of here….”

I exhaled sharply, exhaustion weighing heavy on my head. I felt like I’d taken a pounding, physically and mentally and I wondered how a day that had started so well, could go so wrong, so fast…

Shaking my head, I trudged wearily to the elevator, knocking on the buttons before sagging against the wall, letting my eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook was dating.

Jungkook was dating. His girlfriend thought I was a slut and here I was about to prove her right.

I wanted to slit someone’s throat.

Sighing, I watched the door slide open, grabbing my keys out of my bag, and moving to the suite. I opened the door before making a beeline for the bed. I collapsed on the soft duvet, groaning. I was torn between wanting to call Taehyung to yell at him about Jungkook and calling Minho to demand an update on the flights.

I was spared the dilemma when the phone in the room rang. Groaning, I moved to swat at the phone, turning on the speaker.

“Ms. Kim? There’s a Mr. Jeon here to see you?”

I blinked, feeling disbelief swell inside me. Did he not get the hint?

Annoyed, I sat up.

“Send him up.” I said, in no mood to go all the way down to see him.

“Up?” She sounded surprised, “ To your room?”

“Yes. To my room. Is that a fucking problem?” I growled, annoyed.

“Not at all Ms. Kim. He’ll be right up.”

I got out of bed, shrugging off my jacket and taking off my dress as well. It was a little damp because I’d sweated through the fabric. I grabbed one of my oversized t shirts , slipping it on and moving to open the door before retreating back to the inner room. Feeling annoyed, I walked up to the vanity and grabbed the hair brush, running the bristles through my locks. I heard his footsteps outside and stiffened.

“If you’re here to defend your shitty girlfriend, you can just leave Jungkook. I swear to God, I’ve had enough of this.” I shouted. He didn’t reply and my hackles rose.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I said something harsh-“ I froze when I reached the doorway, staring at the man in front of me. He had a large , almost humongous bouquet of wild orchids and roses in his hand and I stared at his face.

This was definitely not Jungkook.

“Umm… hi.” The man bowed awkwardly, his gaze going straight to my legs, where my t shirt ended, just a couple of inches past my waist. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Who are you…Get out !!!” I shouted, horrified, diving for my jacket and holding it up against my bare thighs. The man held both his hands up, eyes wide..

“I’m sorry… I… you said I could come up to your room….” He protested and I scowled, confused.

“What? “ I stared, stunned… “ Who…what?”

“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I’m uh….one of the sponsors for this festival. And a fan. Huge fan.” He was staring at me beseechingly and I felt my head begin to throb.

The sheer relentlessness of this day…..

“I… Mr. Jeon…” So weird, God, “ There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not…. I thought you were someone else.”

“Jungkook yes…your ex husband, right? You were married to him for six months after he lost his wife….. He’s also one of the artists exhibiting their work here.” He nodded quickly, running long fingers through thick glossy hair, lips parting in a hesitant smile and I stared at him.

“How do you know all that? ” I demanded, heart pounding. He immediately held his hands up again.

“I’m sorry… I sound like a stalker, shit. But Trust me I’m not. I just am a huge fan.. I looked up some stuff about you….before.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly, finally looking up at me.

I tried to catch his scent. No scent to speak of. A beta then. Relaxing just a bit, I swallowed. At least I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But still, I had no intention of letting him see me in nothing but a t shirt. Embarrassed, I gripped the jacket tighter.

“Why are you here?” I demanded angrily, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look like a hoodlum or someone dangerous. He was good looking, dressed in a white t shirt and black Jacket over plain black slacks. His shoes looked expensive and I didn’t miss the shiny Rolex on his wrist either,.

“Well, for one thing I own the Hotel.” He chuckled and that made my stomach turn. “And also like I said, I’m one of the main sponsors for the Festival itself.”

“Right.” I was too disoriented to process this, head throbbing. “Of course. Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I was downstairs…just now… I couldn’t help but overhear you with your agent. You wanted to leave as soon as possible. To pull out of the event and I’m just here to try and change your mind, Ms. Kim.” He smiled earnestly and I realized he was really quite young.

I sighed.

“Could you… Could you wait outside? I want to put some clothes on before we talk any further.” I said tiredly and he bowed quickly.

“Uh… These…I’ll just leave these here.” He placed the large bunch of flowers on the table before quickly leaving the room and I swore, racing to the suitcase in the corner. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping them on hastily and zipping myself up before glancing at the mirror again. This would have to do.

I moved to the door and opened it, finding him right there, looking lost.

“I… come in, please.” I said hesitantly and he bowed again, moving in and waiting for me to close the door and take a seat on the couch, before sinking into an arm chair across from me.

“Did you see the itinerary? It doesn’t get more sexualized than this.” I waved the booklet and he flushed.

“I understand you’re upset about … certain things. I’m sorry that you feel objectified , in the festival. It wasn’t the intention I had when I first told Hyorin and the others that I wanted them to invite you. But , I’ve been busy the past month, and I didn’t go over the complete agenda. If I did, I definitely would have made sure that you were treated with just as much respect as the others. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do now, but I’ve had a word with all of the panelists and also the hosts. We won’t entertain any question or comments of a sexual nature and if anyone tries to insinuate anything , I’ll have them removed from the panel myself. “ He said firmly.

“I’m only here because you told me you would exhibit my mother’s works too.” I said sharply and he bowed.

“ Your mother’s works are just as exquisite and I’ve arranged for them to be displayed right at the center of the arena, with a running slide show of her childhood , her art technique and the great love she had for her daughter.” He said firmly.

I could only stare. He sounded incredibly sincere and there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.

“I’m….” I bit my lips, “ Listen, Mr. Jeon, I’m flattered but honestly, I never wanted to be here. I… there was … something else that made me want to come and well, that turned out to be a huge mistake. To be honest, I’m not sure if I have it in me to suffer through days of people treating me like I’m some kind of sex crazed bimbo.” I shook my head.

“how about this.? You let me be your date for tonight and you let me display your work, today at the dinner itself. I’ll be right by your side. And then, I’ll have my private jet on standby and we can fly back to Korea. You deserve the spotlight, Heejin and I want people to see how good you are at what you do. I don’t care if I lose money over this… As long as you’re comfortable. ”

I gawked at him, stunned.

“Private Jet?” I choked out. “ Okay, now I’m genuinely concerned.”

He laughed.

“I’m a Hotelier, and I have properties all over the world and I like to inspect them personally most of the time. Its more practical to have a private jet than to try and align my schedules with everyone else.” He smiled.

“Right. Convenient.” I shook my head. “ I’m no stranger to excessive wealth, Mr. Jeon and trust me, it’s always left a sour taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t flaunt my wealth, Ms. Kim. These clothes? Got them on the streets of Florence. I drive a Mazda. Wealth has no meaning to me. People do. People like you, who bring beauty into the world with their craft. You’ve made my world beautiful and I just want to repay , in some way.” He smiled, “ Also, You’re very beautiful.” He added and then immediately looked away. “ I’m sorry. That was… dumb . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Endeared against my own wishes, I found myself fighting a small smile.

“Just tonight’s dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Just the dinner party.” He assured me quickly.

“Alright. But I’m not getting into any private Jet. My agent will book me tickets and I’ll find my way back to Korea.”

“As you wish. I’ll pick you up at seven. What color is your dress?” He asked casually and I blinked.

“Uh… Wine red? I guess? Why?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome.

“I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Kim.”

He bowed, before pausing by the bouquet. He grabbed a couple of flowers, holding them up for me to see.

“Daffodils and Lilacs.” He grinned, “ To finding something new to love. And to new beginnings.”

Wow.

Subtle.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting all about Jungkook as I grinned all the way back to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I told you… coming with me will earn you major points.” Wonwoo smirked as he pulled me in by my waist , holding my dress up for me as I stared at the sleek black limousine at the Hotel entrance. I watched as he held my wrist gently, latching a string of sterling silver and red rubies around the delicate curve of it.

“This is too lavish…I don’t want this…Who are you?” I demanded, flushing because of the way the flashes went off in every direction, reporters scrambling when they caught sight of him. He was clearly popular, if the number of photos being clicked were any indication. I regretted everything.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to my wrists, right near the bracelet and gently placed my palm on the curve of his elbow, leading me over to the car and I watched the chauffeur open the door for us.

“ Someone who can get anyone here fired. Be careful , sweetheart.” I watched in mute horror as he bent low, picking up the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip, while climbing into the limousine. The reporters began whispering excitedly and more flashes went off . My face completely red, I hastened to climb in.

“These people look at you like you’re some kind of King.” I stared out of the tinted windows seeing the sheer multitude of people and Wonwoo chuckled.

“ That’s because I am. At least for tonight. And that’s why I’m the perfect guy to protect you Heejin. They’re all terrified of me.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook found me, fifteen minutes into the event. I hung by the large archway, near an alcove, sipping champagne and nibbling on some hors d’oeuvre as people threw glances at me. I noticed the conspicuous lack of a date on his arm and straightened, sighing and bracing myself for more unpleasantness as he picked his way through the crowd, eyes trained on me.

“Can we talk?” He said, the minute he was at hearing distance and I exhaled.

“No.” I said casually and he made a noise of impatience.

“Fucking, hell Heejin..just…” He swore again, looking upset. “ Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What do I want from you? Oh, fuck off Jungkook. I want nothing from you.” I snapped, turning on my heel, ready to leave but his hand shot out, gripping me right above my elbow, fingers curling in hard.

“Fuck.. listen. I don’t know what she said to you. I .. I’m sorry if she offended you…. Alright? She’s an alpha… I can’t change the way she thinks…”

“I didn’t ask you to. I merely said that if you associate yourself with people who think I’m scum, I won’t let you into my life. Because I respect myself too much for that.” I said firmly.

“She doesn’t think you’re scum, Heejin come on. She just has some misconceptions about certain things.”

“God, Jungkook…just stop. Alright? Stop. Because I’m not asking you do anything. I’m leaving on a flight tomorrow morning and you’ll never see me again. That’s all there is to it.”

He froze at that, fingers curling harder around my arm and it hurt, the skin turning red. Stupid fucker, never knew his own strength.

“Ow, Jungkook let go.” I whispered, and he did, albeit reluctantly.

I rubbed at the bruised skin, furious. I watched as the redness healed over, the pain fading to a throb and then into a pleasant heat and I hated it. Hated that being an omega meant that Jungkook’s rough touch turned to pleasure on my skin.

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow? The Festival is for two weeks.”

I sighed.

“I didn’t come here for the festival. I came here to see you. To see if you were as hung up on me as I was on you…but apparently not.” I snapped.

Jungkook went perfectly still at that.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wow. You really never even considered it huh? Us? Together.?” It wasn’t funny at all, but I could only laugh. Probably because I’d been so sure.. So certain that there was something there.

He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a warm solidness behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist and a second later, Wonwoo was there pressing up against me.

“Jungkook-ssi… Such a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out, and Jungkook frowned, his eyes trained on where wonwoo’s fingers curled around my waist.

“Get your hands off her.” He said shortly and Wonwoo blinked, pulling away from me and stepping back .

“What the-? No. Fuck you.” I snapped, glaring at Jungkook before grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and bringing it back around me. “Don’t you fucking dare take your hands off.” I held my finger up at his face and Wonwoo looked momentarily stunned.

“Really, Heejin? You’re doing this?” Jungkook glared at me. “ We need to talk.”

“So talk.” I snapped. “ Tell me why you think a bigoted bitch is the best you can do in terms of dating. Tell me why she’s the only one who can ‘ understand’ “ I made air quotes, shaking my head, “ You think you and your shitty have monopoly on grief Jungkook? I’ve lost people too. Just because I haven’t screwed other people over because of it, doesn’t make my grief invalid….yeah.”

Ringing silence followed and I regretted everything.

“Fuck.” I whispered, shaking my head. “ I .. Shit. I need to get out of here.”

I pulled away from Wonwoo, moving out of the huge ballroom and Jungkook was right behind me, of course he was.

“Heejin…fuck. Wait. You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t understand me. Of course you did. Its why you stuck around… I know that. And you’re right, she had no business talking about you like that. I’ll have a word with her… But…”

I sped up, wanting to get away but he grabbed me again, tugging me closer out of the hall way and into a darkened alcove and I flinched when he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in, as he pressed in closer.

“What did you mean by that?” He demanded, hands coming up to grip my waist, curling gently and my chest heaved at the touch of him, the enclosed space making his scent turn potent, strong and impossible to avoid. My nostril flared as I breathed him in, familiar and yet so foreign, comforting and yet so fucking dangerous.

“By what?” I snapped and his hands moved up, shaping the curves of my body , thumb grazing the tip of my breast and making me jump, before moving up, gripping my face, gently. He pressed his thumb into my lower lip, rubbing back and forth, face impossibly close and I swallowed, throat sandpaper dry.

“About us? Together….” He breathed and I exhaled shakily.

“You know what I meant.” I whispered. “ If you don’t then I can’t explain it.” I whispered and he swore, head dropping against mine, forehead resting against mine, and lips less than a hairsbreadth away.

We’ve never kissed, I thought suddenly. I licked my lips, turning my face away but his fingers gripped my chin at once, yanking me around to stare at him again.

“Look at me, baby. Tell me… You thought about us together?” He whispered .

I breathed shakily.

“Of course I did…. “ I snapped.

“Then clearly therapy isn’t working for you.” He snapped right back and I flinched.

“What-“

Jungkook pulled away staring at me.

“ Do you even remember all the shit I did to you?” He asked quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Jungkook.”

“I broke your ribs.” He said calmly. I swallowed.

“That.. That was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” I protested. “ And we’re past all that… I don’t… I don’t blame you for it.” I said, which was honest enough.

“And what about the nights I got drunk, Heejin….” He said softly and my skin went cold.

“That… That was just… It was just an outlet for your grief… “ I looked away and he scoffed.

“You’re calling it an outlet for grief. I believe the world calls it rape.”

I felt my entire body shiver at the word , moving up to wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him close but he was stiff as a board.

“ Don’t” I snapped. “ Don’t …. Its over…it’s in the past.”

“It was still me. I was the one who did it and I can’t… I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I pulled away to glare at him.

“So , what? You won’t give us a chance because of something I’ve already forgiven you for?”

“Yes.” He said shortly. “ Because you may have forgiven me, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

I felt my body sag in disbelief.

“Jungkook that’s-“

“You deserve better. You always have. I’m not… I don’t deserve someone like you Heejin. You’re kind and breathtaking and I’m just… a broken mess of a man who’s barely getting by.”

“Oh, right… So broken.” I scoffed. “ You’re on the front page of magazines, you have a successful career and a beautiful girlfriend,,,,forgive me if I’m not breaking my heart over your failures.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily before looking up at me.

“ You wanna know the truth about me, Heejin-ah?” He swallowed. “ I just got out of rehab last week.”

I went still.

“What?” I was sure I’d misheard.

“I… I came here and about a month or so in…I started drinking again…” He glanced away and my heart turned over inside me.

“Jungkook, what?” I demanded, horrified.

“I got drunk and got into an argument with a cop. I hit him. They found out I was a single father and-“ He shook his head, “ I got arrested for disorderly conduct , Public intoxication and assault.”

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

“ Arrested for assault... Jungkook why?” I breathed and he flushed.

“I know…. It was stupid.. I… I was stupid.” He said softly. “Soeun isn’t a baby sitter. She’s a social worker. She’s here to keep an eye on me because they want to make sure I’m not a threat to Mina. If I slip up, they’ll deport me back home and then the state will likely take her away from me. Soeun likes me….so she agreed to lie to you ……And as for the girlfriend…” He laughed, shaking his head, “ Hyorin broke up with me after I got arrested. We’re not… We’re not dating. She was only there to get some prints for the panel tomorrow.” He finished shakily.

I stared at him.

“Why?” I demanded . “ Why would you lie to me… Jungkook ….”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a screw up.” He said shakily. “ I know I’m supposed to be getting better and I have but… But sometimes I just…I miss…. I miss home. “ He shuddered. “ And you.” He looked up at me. “ I miss you a lot, Heejin and it hurts and I feel like the only way I can forget about you…about us together is if I drink. And I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to miss you, not after everything I put you through but I… it’s how I feel. ” He glanced away, trembling a little.

I wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away, feeling myself go cold.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, both of us staring at the floor lost in our own thoughts. I felt drained. Miserably so. Like someone had sucked all the strength out of me. I realized how badly I had wanted Jungkook to be okay. To heal and be himself again. And I’d spent the last nine months, fully convinced that he was. That he was doing what he loved, bonding with his daughter building a life for himself.

But apparently, he was also spiraling back into addiction as well.

It was like we were back in that apartment, both of us miserable but desperate to be something we clearly were not : Okay.

“Does Taehyung know?” I asked finally and Jungkook hesitated before nodding.

“He was at my court hearing three weeks ago. He’s the reason I haven’t already lost her.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?”

“He thinks I should come back to Korea.” Jungkook said quietly. “ He wants me to start therapy again with him. Every week. “

I nodded.

“Fair enough. And what do you think?”

“I think I will. My probation ends in three days. I’ll… I’ll start making arrangements afterwards. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks time. ”

I stared at him, finally seeing the things I hadn’t noticed this morning. The shadows beneath his eyes, the worry lines on his brow. I wondered if he would have ever told me the truth, if not for this little confrontation between us.

Silence descended again and I bit my lips, a million thoughts running through my head. I felt the pull of his scent through it all, an instinctive urge to reach out and touch and draw him close and I wondered if this was it. That for the rest of our lives we would just be drawn to each other, reluctant and hurt but unable to stay away.

“You’re leaving tomorrow then?” He asked quietly breaking through the fog in my head.

“Well obviously not.” I snapped. “ I’m not leaving you. I’ll tell Minho, we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Do you actually have a possible job back home? If you don’t I can ask my agent to find one for you….”

Jungkook was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“ What?” I asked roughly.

He swallowed.

“No.. I .. I don’t have a job there.”

“We’ll get you one. And my apartment is big enough so you can stay with me till we find you a place of your own. And I think it’ll actually be good for you, because there’s a Fine Art photographer, pretty well know guy who stays just a few blocks away and e can probably- “

“You haven’t really changed have you?” Jungkook cut me off in the middle of my rambling .

I flushed, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Back when we were married… it was just like this.. I’d fuck up and do something awful and you’d just take it all in stride, get ready to help me out of it….”

“I don’t know what you mean…” I said quickly, “ Let’s go back to the party we’ll talk later-“

He grabbed both my arms, pulling me back to face him when I tried to get past him and I yelped, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?” I demanded. “ What is it now?”

“How do you do this thing, Heejin ?” He asked roughly. “ How do you just get ready to clean up every fucking mess I make like it doesn’t hurt you? Like I don’t hurt you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he tugged me closer.

“How do you just…” He shook his head, “ accept me so unconditionally? Like… Its like no matter what I do, you’re just willing to look past it and I don’t fucking understand Heejin… why do you put up with me, damn it?”

I stared right at him. Caught his gaze and held it, refusing to look away.

“You know why.” I whispered, licking my lips, throat dry, “ And if you don’t…. I’m not going to tell you.”

His eyes widened , lips parting and he exhaled sharply, before letting me go and stepping away.

He looked away, shaking a little and I sighed.

“Let’s just get this night over with, yeah?” I said quietly. “ and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t reply, merely standing aside and motioning for me to leave first.

I shook my head, moving to grip his arm instead.

“Together.” I said firmly. “ We’ll get this night over with, together.”

Author’s Note : i love these two. i’ve never wanted two people to be together so much.

@taeshuworld .@girlinthemikrokosmos @xius-exos @sugainfireslex @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland @veronawrites @blr1004 @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay @squishyjk @itsdingdong @emmmui @honeeybunneey @yeonkiminnie @just-me-and-myselfs @delicate-snow-flake @kpop-lore @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld @btsmylife21 @teresaisla .@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie @ meraki–life @somewhereinthestates @mawwnsterr @kookiesbreaky @chimchoom

@namjooningelsewhere @itsdingdong @ungodlyjoon @caratarmy131

@ladyartemesia @hardggukk @iliveforjin @loveemariee

@unicornbabylover @dchimminie @nope2214 @landl7xoxo

@mrcleanheichou @kayteekat @wassup-haeyadwae @natgba @nikkiordonez12 @neverthefirstchoice @btsssssfiction

@mylittlestrangeandsweetworld @kookiesxbananamilk @lovra974 @supernoonanyc @kokoandkookie

#bts smut #bts smut fic #bts fics #bts fanfic #friends to lovers bts au #jungkook abo #jungkook smut

532 notes · View notes