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#I need that boy to be able to Rage out loud and do it MESSY

iguana-eyanna · 11 months

Note

Hey love your fanfics. I was wondering if you could write a potato x reader fanfic he asks the reader to be his girl and gives her his jacket and it’s all cute please ?

T🪽Birds request: My Sister and My Best Friend?!

a/n: I recently been watching Friends and I knew the PERFECT episode that would fit this fic!

Being Gil's younger sister was a blessing and a curse. The blessing was no one dared to mess with a Rizzo. The bad news was, every boy was scared to ask you out.

Born a year apart, you two were very close. Gil was very overprotective of all of his sisters, but now that you were in the same high school as him surrounded by possible boyfriends, all that Gil could see was red.

He even strictly told his friends that none of them should even bat an eyelash at you. They've respected Gil's wishes of course, but one friend just couldn't control what he felt for you.

And that would be Potato.

There was no denying that there was chemistry between you two. He tried to think that you two were nothing but good friends... chumps... associates.

But he can't say that now as you two were in your room, sitting by your bed as you two were making out.

"We - need - to - stop - this." Potato said between kisses.

"A - greed." you replied between your kisses, but you couldn't help it. Your kisses became more passionate and filled with fire.

You were able to softly push him away as both of you needed air.

"This is much better than making out in the janitor's closet." You remarked.

Potato chuckled as he combs his messy gelled hair back.

"Yeah that room had no light whatsoever, and now I could see more of your beautiful face." He whispered as he pulled you closer. You smiled as you two began to kiss more until -

"Sis! I'm home!" Gil said out loud.

You and Potato freeze as you look at your closed door that was locked.

"I thought you said no one would be home tonight!" Potato whispered.

"And you told me that Gil would be fixing his car!" You said, as Gil often stayed at the auto shop after hours.

"So we're both wrong!" Potato whispered screamed.

"Sis?" Gil asked again as you could hear his footsteps come closer to your room.

"Hide!" You said, pushing Potato down as he rolled under your bed.

You got up and slightly opened your door so Gil won't be too suspicious that you had your door locked.

"Hey Gil, what's up bro?" You said a bit too quickly.

Gil quirks an eyebrow as he looks at you.

"The gang is downstairs eating a pizza. You're welcome to join us but you're just going to snitch on me, are you?"

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms.

"I'm not going to snitch on you, I have secrets of my own too, you know." You lightly tease.

"Pshhh, yeah right Mother Mary. You're quite the risk taker."

Gill looks at you and sees how your hair was kinda a mess and your wearing lipstick that was slightly smudged.

"Why you look like that?" Gil asks.

"It's a... new look! All the rage in France!" You tried convincing him. He knits his eyebrows more and pushes your door opened as he looks in your room.

"You can't barge in like this!" You screamed at Gil.

"Who's in here?" He asks, searching your closet.

"No one, Gil! Get out!" You screamed out.

"I am no leaving this room until I know what's going on!"

"Achoo!" Potato sneezed under the bed.

"Bless you!" Gil screamed back, still scrimmaging in your closet.

Gil immediately stopped as he realized that wasn't you that sneezed.

Looking almost murderous, he turns around and kneels down by your bed, grabbing an arm and sees that he pulled out his friend.

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. HERE?!" Gil yelled out.

"Uhhhhhh, looking for dust bunnies?" Potato replied nervously.

Gil was about to punch him until you tried pulling back his arm.

"Let go of him, Gil!" You said.

Suddenly, you hear a bunch of feet coming at the door and the gang sees you trying to separate the two.

"A little help?!" you yelled at Gil's friends.

Richie and Shy Guy hold back Gil, but they could tell his sheer goal to strangle Potato.

"I can't believe it! My sister and my best friend?!" Gil screamed out loud.

"Look, Gil, I know this kinda looks bad -"

"Kinda?"

"But it's not like that!" Potato defended.

You stand with Potato as you held his hand.

"We're not fooling around, Gil. I really like him. He treats me like a princess, don't you want my boyfriend to be a gentleman?" You ask.

"I'm your boyfriend?" Potato asks.

"Of course you are." You reassured him as you gave him a loving look, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Hey, I'm still here!" Gil caught your guys' attention.

You look at your brother who had his hands on his waist, looking down at the ground and then back at you.

"You promise to treat her right?" Gil asks Potato.

"I will." Potato replied.

Gil smiled and gave Potato a hug.

"If you break her heart, I'll throw you in the meat grinder." Gil whispered for only Potato to hear.

"Duly noted." Potato replied before the two friends let go.

Gil goes up to you, realizing you're not a little kid anymore. You were a young woman, and he was proud that you stood up to him.

"You're still my sis, and I'll always be over protective of you."

"I know, thanks for having my back." You said, knowing Gil always had your best interest at heart.

"Finally, now everyone knows." Cynthia said with relief.

Gil looks up, confused.

"Wait, how many of you guys knew about them?"

Everyone tensed up and started making excuses to go downstairs. Olivia goes up to Gil.

"C'mon, let's leave these two alone for a bit." She pulled him away before he could protest.

"Man, that went better than expected." Potato said, feeling like he can finally breathe now.

"I'm surprised there's not a lot of bloodshed." You teased. You two broke out in a fit of laughter as he held you.

"Shall we go downstairs to eat with them?" You ask.

"Yeah, but I feel like something is missing." He says, making you confused. He looks around your room and grabs his jacket, holding it nervously.

"You know, in case you feel chilly." He says, but secretly gushing if you could wear it.

You smile and you turned around so he could drape it around your shoulders.

"It's perfect." You said, turning back to him.

You two smiled at each other and shared a sweet kiss before leaving downstairs to join your friends. As you all sat around, laughing together, Potato just thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to have you.

And you both are so excited to see what's in store for you.

#potato gonzalez #potato gonzalez x reader #potato #potato x reader #grease rise of the pink ladies #rise of the pink ladies #grease rotpl #rotpl

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peachycoreroo · 3 years

Note

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

for obikin, maybe pretending to hate each other au? (sth where their ages are a little closer, perhaps, so obi-wan can be intensely petty and not feel the need to Set an Example)

45. (Pretending To) Hate Each Other (raised as Sith!Anakin, salty!Padawan Obi-Wan)(1.6k)

Obi-Wan turns away from the training stalles with a barely suppressed sneer. Anakin, as he is to be called, has defeated his opponents. His fellow Padawans. Darth Vader has become a Padawan and everyone is just fine with it.

Obi-Wan marches out into the halls, not knowing where he’s going, but knowing he must get away from the smirk on Anakin’s face as he had lowered his training saber to his opponent’s neck. Does no one but Obi-Wan remember how just months ago Vader’s saber had been pressed against his neck and it hadn’t been a training exercise? Does no one remember the atrocities Anakin had committed, the sentients Anakin had killed?

And yet Obi-Wan’s master seems infinitely fascinated by the boy. And yet Obi-Wan, it seems, cannot step out of his own room without finding this Anakin underfoot, either taking tea with his Master, or dolefully skulking around the doorway of Obi-Wan’s quarters. What draws the boy, he has no lasting idea.

They’re approximately the same age, he supposes, although Obi-Wan has a few years at least on Anakin--it’s clearer to see now that Anakin has stopped wearing his helmet and armor into battle, now that the lines of his face are not hardened by scowls and snarls. Really, he’s a boy. His medical chart puts him at eighteen, making him four years Obi-Wan’s junior.

And, he supposes, Qui-Gon was the one to find Anakin wounded on the battlefield, the one to insist they treat the Sith, heal him, and give him shelter. But Obi-Wan was the one who had found the slave chip embedded between his ribcage, the one who had alerted the Council to its presence, so it could be used to find the boy’s master, to capture him or kill him, to end the war.

But surely, whatever small part Obi-Wan had played in the war’s conclusion, the Force should have known better than to repay him by gifting him with the care and keeping of a Sith Lord, Chosen One or not.

Although Obi-Wan can admit, even if only to himself, that it’s worse when Vader latches onto anyone else in the Temple. His master is too starry-eyed by his ideas of Vader’s midichlorians, his destiny as the Chosen One, to see the boy in front of him now.

And anyone younger than Vader is too easily swayed by his looks, his charm, his disgustingly transparent eagerness to know about the Temple, about the Jedi way of life.

Obi-Wan knows this. He’s fought a Sith at 20, fended it off after it dealt a nearly fatal blow to his Master. They cannot be reasoned with. Vader cannot be reasoned with.

Anakin exists only as a figment of their imaginations, their desire to have the Chosen One fly under the Jedi colors. He is not real, not anymore.

Gradually, Obi-Wan finds himself making his way up the stairs of the Jedi Temple. Of all the spots to hide--to sulk, as his Master would say--the rooftop is the one least likely to be checked. It is one of Obi-Wan’s favorite areas in the entire building.

But he had not thought to check for stragglers before arriving at his destination, had thought the thunderstorms of his own Force presence would keep others at bay. He hadn’t yet figured Vader into his calculations, hadn’t remembered the propensity Vader had for showing up right when Obi-Wan least wanted him to.

“You left,” Vader--Anakin--whoever accuses, as Obi-Wan sits down on the rooftop. The wind howls around them. Obi-Wan has the distinct thought that they’ve lived through this before, that last time Vader had cornered him on a rooftop, he had threatened to take a piece of his body home to his Master. Now, Vader is standing in his home.

Obi-Wan takes a very deep breath and banishes those sorts of thoughts. Anakin, he reminds himself. Anakin.

And just as importantly, the chip. There had been a chip. Not controlling Va--Anakin’s thoughts, but certainly controlling his actions. What he would do to survive is no different from what Obi-Wan had done to survive; they had just been on opposite sides of the war.

Is Obi-Wan weak for not being able to move past that? For not being able to greet the boy--the man--Anakin with open arms into the folds of his family?

“I did,” Obi-Wan replies, keeping his eyes on what he can see of the city skyline.

Anakin steps closer. “Why?”

He turns to face him, takes in his sweaty appearance and messy tunics. He must have been looking for Obi-Wan’s reaction. He must have seen the exact moment Obi-Wan had turned, must have scrambled to cloth himself as he followed after.

“Why does it matter?” He asks instead of answering, always instead of answering.

“Because I wanted you to watch,” Vader says.

“I’ve seen you kill Padawans before,” Obi-Wan turns away and stands up until he can lean against the high protective walls of the roof. “I wasn’t impressed.”

Vader feels frustrated in the Force. No. Anakin.

Anakin. “It was a training exercise.”

“Now,” Obi-Wan points out. “Or do you mean then?”

“Would you hate me if I said both?” “I hate you now, Vader.” The other boy’s Force signature withdraws, flinching away from Obi-Wan’s ire. He hears him sit down. He’d rather throw him off the roof.

But: “Don’t call me that,” the boy pleads quietly. “I know I can’t--that I don’t--” he cuts himself off and grows quiet.

Obi-Wan would say something to break the silence, but he doesn’t want to engage the boy if he doesn’t have to. If he closes his eyes, he can feel and see the Force raging around them, violently buffering them as it demands some sort of denouement.

The boy inhales and stands again, stepping forward hesitantly until he’s a scant foot away from Obi-Wan. “My mom always told me she thought for ages about my name. That it had come to her in a dream after I was already a month old, that it was bad luck to have waited for so long to name me because infants on Tatooine can die as quickly as their mothers.

“And then I...I couldn’t use it or hear it or speak it for so long that I think I almost forgot it, almost lost it to Sidious and...and Vader. So even if you hate me, and I know you should hate me, I know I’ve never done anything to you that cancels out the bad I’ve done to you, but. Please don’t call me that. I think it would have made her sad."

Obi-Wan works his jaw as he stares off into the city. He doesn’t think V--Anakin has ever said so many words to him. If he gives in now, he’d be just as bad as the other padawans who had welcomed Anakin in amongst them because of his big eyes and soft lips and earnest enthusiasm.

Anakin seems to take his silence as permission to continue, which it isn’t. “And I know I’m not. That I can’t be--won’t ever be a Padawan, or a Jedi Knight, that. That I’ll never wear a braid or anything. I’m not--I don’t want another Master. I never want another Master.”

Obi-Wan turns his head just enough to look at Anakin. He’s spent an awfully long amount of time hanging around Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s quarters if he doesn’t want a Master. But...what he’s saying makes sense, and, more importantly than that, soothes the furious emotions in Obi-Wan’s chest enough that he can speak. “Then I can’t understand why.” Why you’re here, why you won’t leave me alone, why you chose to follow me if you’re not trying to dispose of me and take my Master for yours.

Anakin sighs, leaning his head on his hands as he looks out at the city. Obi-Wan finds himself annoyed with that as well, even though he’d just been doing the same thing. Now he can’t tear his eyes away from Anakin’s profile.

“You’re warm in the Force,” Anakin says eventually. “I think maybe I spent too long in space, because I’m always cold. Except when I’m around you. You burn. You always have. I used to think that maybe--it was hatred or disgust at me, when I met you in battle, and you were an inferno. But you burn when you’re on creche duty too. A different kind of fire, but still so warm. It’s just your soul. It’s just who you are.”

Obi-Wan blinks open-mouthed at him. He’s never considered the thought that Vader--Anakin--had been trailing after him for anything other than easy access to his Master. Now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say.

There’s a part of him that still doesn’t understand what Anakin wants to get out of his tenancy at the Temple, a part that whispers that the Sith can’t be trusted, no matter how blue they can make their eyes look. But the Jedi part of Obi-Wan is bigger.

The Jedi part of Obi-Wan tells him to extend his hand just enough to brush against Anakin’s exposed wrist. It’s a point of vulnerability the boy doesn’t shy away from.

“Would you…” he asks slowly, forcing the words out of his tight throat. “Like to meditate with me?”

Anakin looks astonished, then hopeful, then disappointed, then dejected. “I’m no good at meditating,” he says, scuffing the point of his shoe on the ground. “It wasn’t a huge part of my...former Master’s curriculum, and the Force is just so loud in my head that it’s hard to do anything but react.”

He looks up at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes, biting his lip as if he’s afraid that he’ll be turned away for this.

Instead, Obi-Wan turns fully to face him and latches onto his flesh hand. “There are some things, I’ve found,” he murmurs, leading them away from the edge of the roof before pulling Anakin down to sit cross-legged in front of him, “that are much easier done with someone else. Done together.”

#that last line shows up in anakin's wedding vows #like eight years later #and obi-wan thinks anakins making fun of him #but really that was just the moment sith!anakin decided obi-wan would singularly possess his heart and soul for the rest of his life #of course he was gonna quote it in the wedding vows #OBi-WAN #what did you expect?? him to quote the line about killing padawans??#asks #obikin #my fics #omg im so happy i told myself when i finished writing and posting this i would get to eat two gyoza and now its gyoza time #its also 12:33 am #but most importantly its gyoza time #prompt fill

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britishassistant · 3 years

Text

The Villainous Paranoiac Needs a New Uniform

You hate magic.

You hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic so so so much.

You especially hate magic when it’s being used by an off-his-rocker prince with a persecution complex the size of Shibuya to disintegrate you because you’re trying to stop him from being consumed by evil magic waste and turning this dumb boy’s school into a desert over a sports tournament.

Your left side throbs around the grit of the sand buried in it as you desperately scramble upwards. All around you the formerly stable bleachers are wavering, tonnes of metal and support slowly crumbling to dust from the ground up with every second that passes.

“Prefect! Are you okay?!” Deuce has begun taking a few steps towards the bleachers—

Turning his back on Kingscholar.

“DEUCE, GET DOWN!!” You scream.

One of Cater-senpai’s clones trips him up, only to scream in agony as the magic blast intended for Deuce disintegrates it instead.

You try not to retch as you heave yourself up onto the commentator’s box roof.

“Pay attention, dumbass!” You faintly hear Ace bark. “You can’t just forget about the crazy overblot! We’re in the middle of a battle here!!”

“But my minion’s stuck up there!” Grim wails back, “We gotta do something!”

Buchie-senpai says something you can’t hear in reply, because you’re too busy hollering, “Howl-san, MOVE!!”

Howl-san only narrowly dodges the incoming attack despite his speed. The sand slams into the already weakened bleachers, causing you to stumble as the roof shakes under you, tilting at an alarming angle.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Kingscholar mocks, creepy hollow voice clearly audible despite the distance. “Didn’t I tell you herbivores to be prepared?”

You fight the urge to flip him off with great difficulty.

This is so much worse than Rosehearts-senpai’s Overblot. The ligament in your right ankle still gives twinges that show it’s not fully healed yet, but at least you weren’t the only one roughed up in that battle, as the dorm head lashed out at everyone and everything in his rage.

Kingscholar is aiming for you specifically. Which means that this overblot can think enough to recognize threats beyond those flinging magic attacks at it.

And exploit the fact that the you’re weak and in danger to force the others to choose between saving you and taking him down.

Your teeth sink into your thumb. You don’t wanna die here, you refuse to die here, so what are your options??

Option one; focus on directing the battle and try to stick it out up here until Kingscholar is defeated.

A bad plan right off the bat, if the tremors underneath you are any indication.

If you try to hold out until the end of the fight, the sand will finish eating through the bleachers’ supports just like it’s eating into your thigh and hip right now. You will not survive the fall onto the jagged steel and rebar below.

The others might manage not to get distracted by your messy death, but if they haven’t finished off Kingscholar by then, they’ll be sitting ducks if they can’t agree on a strategy.

Ace and Grim are down there.

There’s no way they’re not dead if you bite the dust.

And all that’s on the very generous assumption that Kingscholar won’t just King’s Roar you right here and now. He’s certainly smirking like he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, the cocky bastard.

So option two; get the others to help you down ASAP, preferably while Kingscholar is distracted.

Marginally better than option one, but not by much. If they all come to help you, Kingscholar can just pick them off at his leisure, even if Cater-senpai uses his clones to try and confuse who’s who. While all of you are struggling to see in the sandstorm, the accuracy of the overblot’s attacks show that the storm isn’t affecting his eyesight one bit.

Plus, the more of your allies get on the bleachers, the higher the likelihood of the bleachers collapsing faster and crushing them and you with it.

Even if you try to have one or two of them split off from the group to help get you down while the others try to keep him occupied, Kingscholar can target you, the splinter group before they can get to you, or even wipe out the remainder of the attacking formation who won’t have the necessary magic to defend themselves from a head-on assault.

Divide and conquer. As expected of a might makes right fanatic.

Kingscholar-senpai, you decide, is one of the biggest bag of dicks you’ve ever laid eyes on. Even counting the ones you’re related to.

All that’s left is option three.

If you want a job done right, do it yourself.

“Eyes on the Overblot guys, nobody break formation no matter what you think you see or hear!” You wince as you strip your blazer off, feeling fresh blood soak into your side. It’s tattered around the edges where King’s Roar tore into you, but the body of the jacket seems whole enough at least. “I’ll be fine, so just focus on Kingscholar!”

You grit your teeth as you tie the sleeves together. “Buchie-senpai, I need you to use Laugh With Me to keep him still so Rosehearts-senpai can Off With His Head. Howl-san, Cater-senpai, Deuce, Grim, you need to hit him then with everything you’ve got! I’ll signal when by telling Ace what he needs to do! No more holding back, we need to end this, understood?!”

“Loud and clear!” Buchie-senpai calls back, brandishing his magic pen.

“You better not be planning anything too crazy Yuu-chan~” Cater-senpai calls up, his exhaustion evident through his usual bravado.

Kingscholar chuckles. “If this is something you think you can fight back against, just try to fight it! I’ll turn all of your meaningless efforts to sand!”

The sandstorm picks up in response to his words, the small grains burning your eyes and scraping across your skin.

“On my mark!” You yell, bracing yourself.

The roof shrieks in protest under you.

“Ace—“ You hold the ragged edges of your blazer tight in your hands. “Give me some wind!!”

You start running.

You jump.

You vaguely hear yelling below you, beyond the swoop of your stomach and the roar of the bleachers collapsing into rubble behind you. Your makeshift parachute feels like it’s on the verge of tearing itself out of your grip. You think you’re screaming.

Oh god, this was a mistake, this was a horrible, horrible mistake. You don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die—

The wind picks up in your ears, but it’s not enough, you’re barely slowing down, why did you think this was a good idea, you saw it in a video game for the love of god, you’re going to die, you’re going to break your legs and die—

Small pricks of pain seize onto your hair, your shoulders, your back, and your uninjured leg. Several small and hard somethings start hitting you in the face repeatedly.

Huh. You thought bats were nocturnal. What are they doing here in the middle of the day?

Wait, before that, why are there even bats in a sandstorm in the first place?! And whey are they all latched onto you like you’re a piece of fruit they’re trying to carry off??

“Sebek, if you would~?”

You shriek as something clamps down hard around your injured thighs and waist, the wind half knocked out of you as a shoulder is driven into your stomach.

“Stop screaming, human!!” The loud green-haired Diasomnia member roars at you. “Be grateful Lilia-sama saw fit to sav—”

“Yes, yes, I’m very thankful, just hold on a sec!” You babble, twisting in his grip. The sandstorm’s weakened a lot, and while Kingscholar’s looking a lot worse for wear than he did before you leapt, he’s not down for the count just yet.

But you know exactly the combo to finish him off.

“Grim, Ace, Deuce!!” You yell. “Fire-tornado-cauldron him!!”

“Leave it to me, fnagh!” Grim crows as Ace shouts, “We have GOT to come up with a cooler name than that!!”

The overblot dodges out of the way of the aptly-named fire tornado, still smug if tired and badly scorched. However, as he races forward to counterattack, it becomes clear that he forgot about the third part of the combo you yelled.

“TAKE THIS!!” Deuce screams.

The look on Kingscholar-senpai’s face before the cauldron lands on him is something you’re gonna treasure for weeks.

“King...I’ll...be...” The lion prince staggers, and finally, finally collapses.

There’s a quiet moment as the sand storm slows to a gradual stop.

Kingscholar doesn’t get back up, the giant lion dissipating like a mirage and the grey and black leeching from him.

“It...it’s over.” You pant. “We...we beat him...!”

Rosehearts-senpai doesn’t lower his magic pen. Instead, he wheels around and points it at you with a thunderous “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!”

The heavy metal collar snaps shut around your neck. “ACK!”

“Prefect!”

The Diasomnia guy actually drops you at the sight of Rosehearts-senpai storming over, face redder than a strawberry tart and eyes burning with fury.

Please God, don’t make you have to deal with another Overblot after just beating an extremely painful one.

“YOU— YUU— YOU— WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, JUMPING OFF THE BLEACHERS LIKE THAT?!” He screeches. “THAT'S A FORTY FOOT DROP, AT LEAST!! YOU COULD'VE BROKEN EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY, OR, OR BEEN KILLED, ARE-ARE YOU INSANE?!”

“No, I just didn’t want to get impaled!” You bristle, gesturing at the rubble. “If I jumped, I at least had a small chance of surviving—”

“Sure, because that’s what you falling with that dumb torn jacket was!” Ace snarls, popping up over his dorm head’s shoulder. “It was everything I could do to even make you slow down some—‘give me some wind’ my ASS!”

“It certainly was interesting though.” The Diasomnia vice dorm head pipes up from behind you. “I was almost worried for a minute there that my bats wouldn’t be able to rescue you and you’d be a smear on the playing field.”

“Th-THAT'S RIGHT!! MAGICLESS HUMAN!! PROPERLY PAY YOUR RESPECTS TO THE GREAT LILIA SAMA FOR DEIGNING TO SAVE YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE!!” The green-haired Diasomnia guy screams in your ear.

“The hell d’ya think yer calling ‘worthless’, hah?!” Deuce growls, storming over to him.

“Yeah, don’t insult my minion, fgnah!!” Grim barrels into your good side, hissing at the Diasomnia guy from under your arm, conveniently turning you into a shield.

“WHY YOU LITTLE—!”

“WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED TO THE BLEACHERS??” The dumb bird headmaster’s shriek rises over the din. “OH HOW COULD SOMETHING SO TERRIBLE HAVE HAPPENED TO ME, THE MOST GRACIOUS OF HEADMASTERS?!”

You flop onto your back. The pain from where King’s Roar tore into your left side is returning full-force, now there’s no threat to divert your attention from it. The collar around your neck only adds to the pain with its weight, and all the yelling is giving you a headache.

You hate magic.

You hate magic so much.

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amive2567 · 3 years

Text

Snowy sneezes

Class 1a x GN! Reader

Quirk: Snowman ~ can produce snowmen with everything that includes water. They can't melt (only by other quirks, not through natural causes), and they do whatever the host wants. If the host doesn't give any tasks immediately, the snowman becomes a body of its own forever. Unfortunately, they can't speak :( The more water there is in the air, (or any other source of water), the bigger the snowman gets.

Warning: Crack, Fluff, mention of sexual content (because Mineta), swearing (because Bakugou), a bit OOC Midoriya

Summary: Y/n is sick, and every time they sneeze, little snowmen appear in their dorm. They are listening to music and study. Because of that, they didn't even notice that the snowmen disappeared and caused trouble.

Disclaimer: My hero academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Words: about 2.489

Masterlist

Inspiration by Frozen Fever

Your head pouted, and you barely could keep your eyes open. You had a quirk about snow, so why did you get sick from a snowball fight. "L/N-san, could you please lift your head from the desk and focus on the lesson." admonished you Cementos. "I am sorry, Ishiyama-sensei." you apologized. He continued to teach, but you couldn't focus on a word he said. The lesson dragged on like forever.

After the day ended, you went straight to your dorm room to replicate the knowledge you got taught today.

After some time, the headache disappeared, and you could finally focus on your unfinished notes. Your nose started to tingle, and with a loud achoo, you sneezed. A cold shiver went down your spine, but you didn't think much of it. You were so caught up in the work that you didn't notice how a small snowman waddled quietly around the room. Since listening to music helped you while studying, you didn't hear the rustling steps on your carpet. The cute snowman watched your back and looked around your room. He investigated your plant in front of your bed. His tiny form tried to stroke the plant, but his short snowy arm couldn't reach the plant. The small snowman was determined to stroke the plant, so he tried to climb up at the plant pot. Since he didn't think about the consequences, the plant pot fell over and covered him with the potting soil. Anxiously he watched if you had seen his plight. You didn't seem to notice it. So he tried to clean himself with his tiny arms.

Another sneeze shook your body, and another tiny snowman appeared. He looked around the room and found his buddy. The two jumped happily around, and the new snowman helped to clean up his pal. The two snowmen happily discovered your room, as quiet as they could. After they were done, your room looked like you had a fight in it. They also tried to open the door, but they were too tiny. Exhausted, the two snowmen settled in front of the door.

A sneezing fit hit you, and about five snowmen developed in your room. The two snowmen got right up and wobbled to the new snowmen. They hugged each other like they were old friends. Silently the two older snowmen convinced the younger ones to open the door together. They built a ladder out of snowmen by stacking themself on their shoulders. With a soft click, the door opened, and they left your messy room.

Your classmates were occupied with their interests and tasks. Some were reading, training, baking, showering, or learning. So they were either outside, in their rooms, or in the common room area. This meant that the hallway in front of your room was empty. The snowmen waddled quietly around the enormous building.

Since they discovered their new skill, they opened another door. In the room was a blond boy, who laid on his back with a manga in his hand, called Snow white with the Red Hair. He was completely caught up in the book, so he didn't even notice that someone entered his room. The snowmen inspected his room. It has the theme of yellow and blue, and on his shelf were tons of All Might figures. One snowman got his snowy hand on a manga and tried to read it. He failed because snowmen can't read, but the pictures were interesting. He wanted to read it later, so he took it with him.

The gang of snowmen went downstairs to explore the other parts of the dorms. Loud singing caught their attention. They followed the singing and landed in a steaming environment or, to call it something more simple, the bathroom. It was hot in there, and the snowmen were happy that they couldn't melt by natural causes. Since the bathroom was really a boring place to be, they climbed on the shelves and searched through the products. After the other snowmen had left the room, the last one of them was mesmerized by a big red bottle with the label: red hair dye. He took the bottle with him and followed the other snowmen fast.

The next stop of the seven snowy figures was another room. They used their secret method again and opened the door. The room was cramped with bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Another weird thing was that there was a shelf only for tons of glasses. No one was there. The snowmen wandered around the room like it was an old museum. The two snowmen that stole something hid in the corners of the room, so their misbehavior wasn't noticed. The smallest of the snowmen looked around and climbed up on the shelf with the glasses. Unfortunately, one of the spectacles fell on the ground and broke. No one seemed to witness it, so the tiny snowman grabbed them and hid them behind his back from the others to see. After they discovered every inch of the room, they made their way to the next one.

The room wasn't much different from the first one, but it had a more pleasant atmosphere. It was bright and happy. Some snowmen were bored because of the All Might figures they had already seen, but one of them got interested by the rarest of all time. The bronze age All Might figure. Only fifty got produced, and the owner of the room had one. The snowman needed this figure, so when no one watched him, he took the opportunity and stole it.

They went into two other rooms before they finally got to the common-room kitchen. There stood a tall brown-haired boy with a tart pan. He studied a recipe and was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice how a snowman stole his eggs. After the boy wanted to reach for them, they were gone, and he questioned himself if he forgot to lay the eggs on the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and saw no eggs. But he was sure that he bought them with Koda yesterday. They couldn't be gone, only if someone used them. And he was sure who it was. With angry steps, he walked to the room of a certain angry pomeranian.

In the meantime, the snowmen discovered that everyone had stolen something. They laid their stolen objects in the middle of their circle. The items they had stolen were a romance manga, red hair dye, a pair of glasses, a rare All Might figure, eggs, lipstick, and a book. All of the snowmen had a panicked expression on their snowy faces. The humans aren't dumb they would soon find out, so they have to hide their items somewhere. Fearfully they collected the things and quickly set about hiding with the stuff in a nearby room.

It was a dark room, and it got lit by a small source of light. Unearthly sounds could be heard from the computer screen in front of a short, purple boy. The older snowmen tried to cover the eyes of the younger ones. So they couldn't see the horrific show that played on the screen. It was dangerous to be in such a gross environment with young snowmen, but it was better than getting caught.

"I didn't steal your lame eggs. Now leave me alone fat lips." cursed Bakugou as Sato confronted him. "But I am sure you know where my manga is, don't you?" Bakugou questioned harshly with a raised eyebrow. "Why would I want a manga from you?" Sato asked him. The blond one scoffed and pushed Sato out of the way. "I bet shitty Deku got it," he grumbled and stamped in the direction of his room. Without knocking, he kicked the door open. "Oi, shitty nerd. Give it back," he yelled. But what he didn't notice that the room was messy as hell. "Ah, Bakugou, I wanted to talk to you," Midoriya spoke slowly. His expression was horrifying. Even when Bakugou wouldn't admit it, he was scared of the shorter green-haired boy. "Now, where do you have it?" Bakugou asked, unimpressed. "What should I have? I wouldn't even give it to you. You stole my All Might bronze age figure." Midoriya yelled. He activated his quirk, and before he could Detroit Smash Bakugou into nirvana, Kirishima intervened. "Wait, that's not really manly of you, bro. My hair dye also went missing. I think someone is stealing from us." Sato followed the red-haired. "I think he's right," he said. "Let's meet up with the other ones and think about it before we hurt each other." mediated Kirishima. Still, with rage in his eyes, Midoriya let got of his powerful quirk and noded. "Alright, but I am not done with you, Kacchan." proposed Midoriya. "Whatever you say, shitty nerd." scoffed Bakugou.

As they got everyone except two persons in the common room area, the yelling began. "My lipstick went missing. How can I be able to rock my hero costume." Mina cried and hugged Uraraka desperately. The short brunette patted her back, comforting. "A book of mine also went missing," noted Momo. "Did someone saw my pair of glasses? I need to find Marry the third. Without her, my collection is incomplete." Iida yelled and made his typical hand gesture. At his comment, more than half of class 1a had to suppress a burst of laughter. "My hair product also went missing," said Kirishima. "My limited All Might figure in his bronze age is missing," said Midoriya grumpily. "You look a bit scary, Midoriya. Is everything ok?" Todoroki asked. "Yeah, of course. I didn't need my All Might figure anyway." he sarcastically answered. "It's just a figure," Todoroki mentioned, and every chatter died down. "Dude, does he have a death wish?" asked Kaminari quietly. "Maybe," answered Sero noiselessly. "A figure... A figure..." Midoriya yelled and wanted to charge for a punch, but a frustrated screech interrupted the argument.

You finished the last sentence of your work. So you turned around and stretched yourself with closed eyes, but as soon as you opened them, you were met with a tremendous mess. "The sneezes and the...oh shit," you yelled out in frustration. You were so occupied with work that you didn't even notice that you let go of a bunch of snowmen. Your steps stormed to the common-room to start the search for the tiny, snowy trouble makers. The yells in the common-room got louder and louder as you got nearer. "Guys," you yelled over the screeches of Midoriya. "I let go of my quirk, and some snowmen are probably starting some trouble. We need to find them." you got straight to the point. Everyone looked at you with expressionless faces. "Why is even every one of you here?" you asked now, confused. "Your tiny snow fuckers stole our stuff," Bakugou grumbled. "What was actually stolen from you, Kacchan ?" Kaminari asked. "A manga," answered Bukugou grouchily. "Uh, which genre?" questioned Kaminary. "Shut it, dunce face," Bakugou yelled. "Just asking." waved Kaminari away.

"Do you know where they possibly went, or how we can get rid of them?" asked Momo calmly. "I don't know where they could be," you answered, a bit disappointed. "If we find them and want to get rid of them, we need to destroy them with fire quirks. They don't melt of natural causes," you explained. "Alright, I think we build two teams. One team goes with Bakugou and the other one with Todoroki," suggested Momo. "Why do I need to be in one team. I can do this on my own." Bakugou protested. "Do you want your manga back asap?" Momo asked after that the ash-blond boy was quiet but still grumpy. "I am not going with Kacchan." Midoriya angrily said. "I don't want to go with you either," shouted Bakugou. "Just like an old married couple." laughed Kaminari. "Shut it, dunce face." yelled the blond boy.

After you build up the teams, you started to search for the cold troublemakers. The team of yours consisted of Todoroki, Aoyama, Tsuyu, Iida, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, a grumpy Midoriya, Tokoyami, Shoji, Ojiro, and you, of course. The other ones had fewer patient people in their team. Bakugou got Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, Jiro, Sato, Koda and Hagakure in his team. Your team searched on the second and third floor for the stolen things and your snowmen.

The third floor was clear now you searched on the second floor. "Waa, how did snowmen came into my room?" a high-pitched yell caught the attention of your team. You neared the room and opened the door. Mineta was standing in front of a bunch of tiny snowmen. Everyone in the room turned, slowly their hats to the door. "Yeah, gotcha," you shouted happily. The snowmen suddenly let go of the stuff they hoarded and ran in different directions. "We need to catch them. Todoroki, Tsuyu, Iida, Momo, and I are catching them, and the rest of you secure the missing stuff," you ordered. During this time, Momo produced earpieces for communication. The people named ran with you to catch the snowmen.

Since the snowmen were fast and not as dumb as you wished they were, you had to separate. The snowman in front of you ran fast, and you yelled after him. As the snowman had to take the elevator, you could easily catch him. "I got one. Does someone else has one?" you asked in your earpiece. "I've got one too." answered Iida "Me too," said Tsuyu. "I have already burned two," said Todoroki in his calm demeanor. "I am currently trying to catch one," yelled Momo hectically. "Thanks, guys, that means only one is missing," you said. A loud explosion roared through the dorm-building. "Now, I think only one is left." you corrected yourself. "I got the penultimate snowman," said Momo proudly. "Great." you cheered. As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, the snowman in your arms tried to wiggle himself free. "We need to met up in the common room, so we can get rid of the captured snowmen," you said to the others.

After you got rid of the captured snowmen. Bakugou stormed into the common room area. "We found only one, are all gone?" he asked grumpily. "Only one is missing," you answered as you watched the penultimate snowman melt. "I got the last one he was hiding in the fridge," said Sato and brought you the last one.

"Thanks, guys, for helping. I am so sorry that my quirk got out of hand and caused such trouble," you apologized to your classmates. "No problem, that could happen to every one of us. You don't need to apologize." Midoriya said reassuringly. A small smile spread across your face, and you were relieved that everyone agreed and wasn't angry with you. Except for Bakugou, but that was to be foreseen.

#bnha x reader #bnha #mha #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #class 1a #bakugou katsuki #momo yaoyorozu #tsuyu asui #sato rikido #eijirou kirishima #snowmen #mina ashido #ochako urakara #iida tenya #trouble #fluff #crack #gender neutral reader

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Show Pony

Chapter 5

Kids

Read on ao3

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. She’s going to Morocco.”

There was something in Steve’s throat, making his voice waver and sound reverent at the same time.

“She’s going to Morocco.” Billy pressed his hand down Steve’s back, dragging his fingertips along his skin, surprisingly smooth and soft.

Steve had his head on Billy’s chest, their bodies stuck together uncomfortably with sweat, but neither of them could be assed to move.

They were wrapping up their little movie night, Almost Famous playing to a close on Steve’s laptop, perched on the kitchenette counter, just where they could see it from the bed.

“Okay, that was really good.”

“I fucking told you. My mom showed me that movie when I was, like, eight. Shit changed me fundamentally.”

Steve shifted his leg a little bit but stayed silent. Billy could feel his muscles tensing uncomfortably.

“What?”

“What what?”

“I can tell you’re tense.”

“I just,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your mom before.”

“Yeah. Don’t really like talking ‘bout her.”

“Did she, you know ?”

Yeah. Billy did know.

“Nah, she didn’t die. She left. Not long after that movie night.”

Steve’s head popped up from where it was rested on Billy, giving him those big fuckin’ eyes looking sappy and sad as all hell.

“I’m sorry.”

Billy didn’t know what to say to that.

He doesn’t tell people about his mom. About her lovely life that she’s built without him in it.

It breaks his heart just to think about.

“She’s got kids now. A husband.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just. Sorry.”

“I don’t know what I want to hear. But yeah. T’sucks.”

“You wanna know something that makes me sad? So we’re even?”

Billy huffed a laugh through his nose, bringing his hand up to tuck some of Steve’s messy hair behind his ear.

“Only if you wanna tell me.”

“Remember how I said I was supposedta get my high school diploma soon? Well, by soon I mean, like, maybe within the next few years.” Steve wasn’t meeting Billy’s eyes, and he put his head back down on his solid chest, his shoulders tensing up around his ears. “I never went to school. Not even when I was little. I’ve had the same tutor on the road since I was a kid, and he’s good. Tries his best. I just. I’m- not good . I’m not smart. You need to pass this test to get your high school GED if you’ve taken an ‘ alternative route ’. Like I have. But I can’t take it until I know the shit that’s on it, and my tutor, Scott, he’s too nice. Says I’m okay. That I’m on track. But I saw the program he teaches from. Says it’s for ninth and tenth graders. I’m nearly nineteen, and I’m in fucking ninth grade .”

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck .

Billy’s 98.6% sure Steve is fighting back serious tears right now.

It was crushing Billy’s soul and making him feel like he was gonna join right on in.

But for how much Billy is a goddamn little crybaby, he sure is useless when other people start crying.

“It’s, Steve- that’s not your fault. You’ve literally never gone to school. Plus, like, I’m sure you don’t do your tutoring like I did school. Five days a week for like seven hours since I was five or something. You’ve been. Busy. You travel around and do all these amazing things, and, and, you're not dumb. Your parents just chose to not put you in school and then got mad when that didn’t work out as planned. It’s got nothin’ to do with your brain.”

This is gonna sound shitty.

And Billy really doesn’t mean it like that.

It’s just, well. Billy didn’t realize Steve was so. Fucked up.

Traumatized. Might be a less harsh word for it.

Billy just never woulda thought, when he first watched Steve ride like a fucking expert, or when he first noticed him strutting around the grounds of the rodeo, that there was actually something really sad behind that denim and flannel.

It made something in Billy’s gut twist and turn.

Because he’s the exact same way.

Because underneath the layer of carefully maintained hot muscle-head douchebag jock, there’s a really sensitive boy who was abandoned by his mother and gets regular hits from his father.

He can’t really decide if being able to see through Steve is a good thing or a bad thing, though.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like a fucking baby over it. I never really talk about it, so I guess the bad shit just kinda all decided to explode out all over you.”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. S’okay. I’m used to bad shit.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I meant it more in a bummer way, I guess.”

“I am sorry about your mom. It seems like you really loved her.”

Little bastard had brought it back around to Billy’s shitty baggage now.

The gorgeous little dickhead.

“I do.”

And that’s probably the worst thing about it.

All these years of feeling abandoned and forgotten. Of trying to make himself hate her, he still loves her so much.

He is her.

So much of himself modelled around the aspects of her he found most beautiful.

The things, try as he might, he can’t help but love.

Billy felt Steve take a large deep breath on top of him.

“Do you, like, talk to her much?”

“Nah. Should be getting a FaceBook message for my birthday next week. And then nothing ‘til Christmas. That’s how it goes with her.” She was literally the only reason Billy still kept his FaceBook account around.

Mostly because when he was feeling sorry for himself he’d go over to her profile and peruse the album labelled “Family ❤️” until he felt worse.

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizin’. Not your fault she couldn’t handle it all.”

“Was she really young, or something?”

“Yeah. It was a case of too young and her own shitty father giving her enough issues to make her wanna marry the first asshole that told her she was pretty.” He’s never said all of this out loud.

But he couldn’t. Stop. Talking.

“Then when he turned out to be a bigger dick than she imagined, she split. Basically fell off the Earth for a few years. Served my dad divorce papers out of the blue one day. Now, she’s got a family that doesn’t suck, and barely spares any thought for the kid she left down south. Not that I blame her.”

He does, and he doesn’t.

It’s an odd situation.

He blames Neil for everything, when he’s thinking clearly.

He pushed his mother away with the same violence, the same painful rage he shows Billy.

But he also blames her.

She could’ve taken him before she scrammed. Could’ve fought for custody over him while she and his father met for Skype calls with their lawyers to settle the divorce.

Their split was easy, because she didn’t want anything.

Not their house, not their belongings.

Not their son.

“Wow. I thought my family was fucked up. Not to be rude, or anything.” Steve flushed, but he had the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Every family is fucked up. Just in different ways.”

“I guess you’re right. I should probably get my head outta my ass and quit bein’ so selfish, then.”

Billy smiled fondly at Steve.

“You’re not selfish. Just don’t got a lot of outlets, I assume.”

Steve nodded, and Billy understood.

He doesn’t either.

The only person he even considers close enough to vent to, is Max. And even then, he doesn’t tell her all of it. Not nearly any of it.

She knows he’s gay only because she knows Neil’s a fucking homophobe. She knows he gets beat only because Neil does it in front of her. She knows his mom left only because sometimes Neil gets drunk and spits in Billy’s face that it’s all his fault she’s gone.

But she doesn’t know that Billy agrees with Neil on that last bit.

That maybe if he fought for her better-

Got in between her and Neil when he was goin’ in rough and hard on her down in the kitchen, instead of hiding under his bed with his hands pressed over his ears.

He’s got no one to work through all this shit with, and by the sounds of things, Steve hasn’t got anyone either.

And maybe that’s what they could be.

For each other.

Billy shook himself.

“You wanna start your movie?” He asked Steve, trying to redirect the evening back to their Favorite Movie Double Feature, and out of Billy’s Hopeless and Has Feelings territory.

Because time was ticking down.

And no matter how much Billy felt like Steve was the perfect compliment to his frayed and ragged soul.

Steve was leaving.

Steve was always leaving.

#yikes writes #show pony #rodeo au #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #i don't love this chapter but i haven't fixed it in the months its been sitting in my wip and i've written and LIKE the next three #so here it is mostly filler and exposition

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moonknightly · 3 years

Text

bittersweet & delicate : modern! poe x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: kes dameron is a dilf

Warnings: i think i said a bad word

Poe’s never been good with silence. He’s always been a loud person with a roaring personality to match, full of charm and charisma that he’d learned from his father. He’s always talking, always spewing stories and telling jokes to the people around him, and in the rare moment’s when he's verbally silent, you know that his mind is racing with ideas and memories replaying through his head.

But now, he’s just quiet. So quiet you’re beginning to worry about him. He’s sitting completely still at the island with his chin resting in the palm of his hand, and you’re leaning against the counter opposite of him, watching him closely, your eyes never straying from his face, just like his never moved from the small yellow envelope in front of him.

He’s been staring at that envelope all afternoon.

You know what’s in it. You know why he’s quiet, why he can’t do anything but stare.

You know he’s waiting to open it until Kes gets there, but part of you wonders if he’d even be able to do it without him. He’s not ready.

He’s scared.

Fear — another bullet point on the list of things he’s never been good with. It makes him shut down, makes him forget to take care of himself until it passes or until he buries it down far enough to ignore.

But he has you, and if you can do anything, you can take care of him.

You know he hasn’t eaten, there aren’t any dishes in the dishwasher and you’d just unloaded it that morning. You honestly can’t remember if you’ve even seen him drink anything.

So that’s what you grab first. You slide the glass of water across the counter towards him, and he glances at it briefly before looking up at you with appreciation evident in his eyes. He takes it and raises it to his lips, finishing the whole thing in just a few seconds. You immediately pour him another glass, then silently move around the kitchen, trying to figure out what you can cook from what you have on hand.

You decide on some soup and a grilled cheese — simple, easy, comforting and fit for the occasion as well as the cold and snow outside. He finishes the soup first, and though he only eats half of the sandwich, that’s good enough for you.

“Thank you,” he mumbles once he’s finished, and he stands to clear his dishes but you grab them before he can, kissing his cheek in the process.

His cheeks turn a little pink like they always do, and you’re happy to see that even in his current state, your kiss can still make him blush.

“No problem, sweet boy.”

Poe smiles. He fidgets in his seat, and you can tell by the expression on his face that he feels awkward and unsure. Two more things he’s unfamiliar with. You leave his dishes in the sink to worry about later, then move to sit next to him.

You take his hand in yours and immediately notice that his fingers are slippery, covered in sweat but you don’t even flinch. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose this time, and the way that he scrunches his face makes your chest bloom.

“You doing okay?” you ask, though it seems a little redundant.

He shrugs his shoulders gently, takes a deep breath and sits up a little straighter. That tells you more than enough — he’s trying to make sure you don’t worry about him, he wants to appear like he’s held together by more than a few frayed threads.

“Just a little stressed out baby.”

“Liar.”

Poe sighs and shrugs again. He’s quiet for a moment, and when he does decide to speak, his voice waivers.

“I just...what if this isn’t it?”

Your arms are immediately around him, your hand on his head so you can cradle him against your chest. He lets you hold him, but doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“The crash was over twenty years ago, there’s no way-”

He’s interrupted by a knock on your front door, and neither of you get up to answer it. You know it’s just Kes, and Kes knows he can just walk inside. He’s early, and Poe’s face falls. He’s not ready.

But again, you don’t think he ever will be. Even with Kes there to help him through it, even with you.

You listen as Kes kicks his shoes off in the hallway and hangs his jacket up on a hook. He sighs, and it’s quiet for a few seconds before you hear his footsteps walking towards you. He’s nervous too, you could feel it the second he walked through the door.

It’s warranted.

He takes a seat next to his son, his eyes fixating on the envelope sitting in front of him, just like Poe’s.

It still catches you off guard sometimes, how insanely alike the two Dameron’s look, how they share so many of the same mannerisms. Their smile is the same, their laugh is the same. They both rub the back of their neck when they’re embarrassed, and their cheeks turn the subtlest shade of pink.

They both have beautiful, breathtaking brown eyes, but you’ve seen pictures and know that Poe’s are one hundred percent Shara’s.

You know that Kes thinks the same every single time he looks at his son, because he gets this look in his eyes that’s so tender and warm or, depending on the day, far off and distant and sad.

Right now, it’s the sadness that prevails.

Kes sighs and shakes his head just a little bit. He runs a hand through his hair and pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before lightly touching Poe’s shoulder, offering him support and reassurance, but you know Kes needs the contact for himself too. His hand is shaking.

“You okay kiddo?” he asks quietly, clearing his throat a little bit to hide the way it cracks.

You notice, but Poe doesn’t seem to. He only gives his father the same shrug he gave you, but he doesn’t look at him. He just keeps his eyes on the envelope.

Kes sighs again, and you bite your bottom lip, unsure if you should leave the two of them alone so they can have this moment together or if you should excuse yourself into another room. Kes glances towards you, almost like he can sense what you’re thinking — you’d always been close with him. He shakes his head, silently asking you to stay. You nod once.

Another round of silence takes over the room, with Poe still staring at the envelope and both you and Kes staring at him. Again, it’s Kes who breaks the silence.

“Do you want me to do it?”

Poe stays completely still, completely quiet. For a moment, you’re not sure he even heard his father’s question, but he finally shakes his head and reaches forward. His hands are shaking too.

He takes the envelope and turns it over his hands a couple of times, his teeth catching on his bottom lip while he prepares himself to open it. Kes keeps his hand on Poe’s arm, and you gently start to play with the hair at the nape of his neck — something you know Shara used to do to calm him down.

“Poe we don’t have to do this right now,” you remind him, your voice as gentle as you could possibly make it.

“No,” he answers immediately after, shaking his head hastily. “No, I don’t wanna wait any longer.”

He tears the envelope open before you and Kes can even blink. He hesitates again, for just a moment before reaching inside and grabbing a small card, a short message scribbled across it in messy handwriting. He passes it to his father, who also has no interest in reading it just then. They just want to see what else is inside.

Poe reaches back in and pulls out a clear plastic bag, but his fingers are hiding whatever sits inside. He stops again, takes a few deep breaths, then slowly opens his fist.

That breath was pointless, because all of the air comes rushing from his lungs in a single second. Kes immediately turns and buries his face into his son’s neck, and you watch as his shoulders begin to shake.

Sitting in Poe’s palm is a simple yet beautiful silver ring, one that you’ve only seen in pictures but instantly recognize. It’s unmistakingly Shara’s — no one had to look at the engraving to know for sure. It’s hers, without a single doubt it’s hers.

“Oh my God,” Kes breathes, picking his head back up to look at it again, almost like he’s making sure it’s still there. “Fuck.”

Poe’s still so quiet, just staring at the ring in his hand, completely entranced by it. You wipe at the tears running down your cheeks, then hug him again, kissing the top of his head over and over.

He brings it closer to his face, wanting to get a better look at the ring he hasn’t seen in over twenty years, the ring he used to play with when he was a small boy and couldn’t sleep at night. He’s told you the story before, so many times.

Shara would slip it onto a chain for him whenever he’d wake up from a nightmare. Whenever he was scared of the monsters hiding under his bed or whenever there was a storm raging on outside, she’d clasp it around his neck to wear for the night. She’d promise him that it would keep him safe, protect him from all of the bad and bring him peace, make him feel at ease enough to rest. It always worked.

He still has the chain, he’s worn it every single day since he was eight years old, but the ring had gone down with Shara, buried in the sand along with the remnants of her broken and charred plane. Kes had gone to look for it so many times after the crash, but he’d never been able to find it. The only thing he’d managed to bring back were burnt pieces of metal — a piece for him and Poe each that they both held onto with pride.

And so a month before, when Poe got an email from a man claiming to have found his mother’s ring while he was surveying the area with his metal detector, from a man who said he’d spent the last six months trying to track Poe or Kes down, he hadn’t believed it. It just didn’t seem possible.

But there it was, sitting in the palm of his hands. The man had even gotten it professionally cleaned.

All three of you sit there and just continue to stare at it, your emotions staying somewhere between disbelief and awe. You don’t know how much time passes before Poe finally shifts, holding the ring out to his father.

Kes takes it. He touches it so carefully, so gently, almost like it’ll break between his fingers. There’s still tears rolling down his cheeks, and you can’t tell if they’re happy or if they’re sad. You figure it’s somewhere in between.

“What are you going to do with it?” Poe asks quietly, his gaze flickering between the ring and the other man’s face.

Kes furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. Ever since he found out that someone might have found the ring, there’s only been one thing on his mind, one option.

“What am I going to do with it? What are you going to do with it?”

Poe mirrors his father’s expression, and again you’re reminded of how eerily similar they are. “What do you mean? Dad, that’s yours.”

“It was your mother’s.”

“Yeah, and-”

“No.” Kes shakes his head again and reaches for Poe’s wrist. He flips his arm so he can set the ring back into his hand, then closes his son’s fingers around the piece of jewelry. “She’d want you to hold onto it.”

His eyes flicker to you, for just a moment before he looks back at Poe.

“Find someone to give it to one day or something.”

Poe’s quiet again, for almost a minute before he finally speaks again, his voice quiet, almost timid. “Are you sure?”

Kes nods, a small smile playing at his lips. He squeezes Poe’s wrist before letting go.

“Positive kiddo.”

Poe nods too, but he still really only stares, not sure if he wants to cry or smile.

“I can put it on your chain, if you want,” you offer, already moving to unclasp it from around his neck.

That elicits a smile from him, but you’re too distracted to notice.

So distracted trying to get the chain undone, you also miss the look he shares with his father in that moment.

There’s only one thing on his mind, one option.

That ring, his mother’s ring belongs with you.

Now he just has to find the right moment to give it to you.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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anythingbutmar · 4 years

Text

Lonely

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: You love Diego, but you get tired as he keeps ditching you to save the world. Fortunately, he knows how to make it up to you.

Prompts: 21.“Shut up.” “Well why don't you come over here and make me?" 23."For the love of fuck.” “Yeah that's me, I love to fuck."

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ACTUAL SMUT AND I’M SCARED, also, this is the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so proud! I love getting more and more Diego requests.❤

Warnings: unprotected sex, drinking, angst.

You know how you're still quite sensitive a few days after your period is gone? You told yourself that was the reason why you were sitting on your livingroom floor, drinking a wine bottle by yourself and crying your eyes out. But you knew the real reason had nothing to do with your cycle.

Diego had failed you, again. Maybe failed was too strong of a word, but he was late to your dinner for the third time in a week, and you truly wanted to understand him, but it was so damn hard.

It had been exactly a month and nine days since the day that he had stormed in your apartment rambling about JFK, 1963, the apocalypse and a commission. It took you a week to process the whole thing not only because it was incredibly hard to believe it, but because he kept adding details here and there like an excited little boy, except he wasn't excited at all, he was just mad at himself for not being able to save a president that had been dead for almost eighty years.

And so, he freed himself of his anger the only way that he knew: on the streets, which usually took him away from you for a few hours, but it was already one in the morning and he wasn't answering any of your texts and phone calls, so you drank and you weeped while listening to Toni Braxton.

You could say that Diego had changed for the better. He was no longer blaming his disgraces on his siblings, he told you he wanted things to get serious because of how much he missed you and you could see even more kindness in his eyes, but it still wasn't what you wished. You had always wanted him in every possible way, but this time you were asking for more, because even though he was your entire world it seemed as if you were never enough for him, given how he preferred to fight criminals over sharing one meal with you.

If you wanted to, you could have kept replaying depressing thoughts in your head, but you were tired already, so you laid your head on the couch and drifted away, holding onto an empty bottle.

And that is exactly how Diego found you half an hour later. He truly felt sorry, but he didn't want to wake you up, and he didn't want to fight, and in general he just didn't want to face you knowing he had disappointed you and a complete country, so he grabbed you in his arms, wanting to carry you to your bed, but even as you slept rage kept burning in the pit of your stomach, and it was that rage that woke you up, right as he was lifting you off the floor, so of course, your natural response was aggressively wiggling your way out of his arms until he accidentally dropped you. You could notice that he was about to laugh until he saw the terrifying look in your eyes and stopped himself.

Diego was no mirror, but you could almost see yourself through his expression. Messy hair, ruined makeup and wine stained lips. He might as well have called you Madremonte already, because you knew you must have looked just like her, same anger in your gaze.

"Where were you?" The alcohol could have blurred your vision but you could see him quite clearly, and it made you wanna cry because you loved him so damn much and you just wanted him to love you back.

"You know it's not a specific place, I just go around town."

"I'm not a jealous person Diego, but I'm not stupid either, and you can't expect me to be waiting for you as you're out there every night saving god knows who. It sounds ridiculous, but I envy an entire city because everyone in it gets to spend more time with you than I do."

Tears poured out again as you remembered the night you met him. You had just quitted your job and were too distracted with your worries to notice the robber creeping up behind you. Thankfully, Diego was there on his silly latex suit, and unlike you he had seen the guy, and he scared him before he could even touch you, freaking you out in the process, but he made it up by inviting you for a drink, and so, your "relationship" started, but it wasn't until that day when he showed up in your doorstep with longer hair and bigger problems that he'd actually adressed it as such. He had asked you to be his girlfriend, and you couldn't be happier to accept, you just didn't know it was going to be this hard, and thinking back to the days where he was saving you hurted like hell, because even though you didn't want to say it out loud, you knew you were alone now while he was saving everyone else.

Diego remained silent, he looked regretful, but that wasn't going to ease your pain.

"You don't have to say anything, I already know what you think. You regret this, you regret us." He frowned deeply, as if he expected anything but what you'd just said.

"What? Of course not!"

"You do! No matter how much you try to hide it it's the truth, you can't even stand to look at me anymore and I don't even know what I did!" Your breath escalated as you let out everything that you couldn't say before.

"Shut up Y/N, you don't even know what you're saying."

"It's not even what you try to tell me everytime! You don't think you've failed me, you just don't want me, so you go out to seek comfort on your fucking hero complex! You'll never learn that you can't save everyone and I don't understand why but somehow you resent me for it!" You screamed and it felt good even though he was right, you were just making up reasons for something that you couldn't understand, but he needed to know how much his absence harmed you.

"Listen to yourself! You're literally not making any sense! I've told you nothing but the truth since I got here because I want things to work between us, and when I say that I come late at night because I know I could have done more to protect you I really mean it. I can't face you when I fail at making you safe." He didn't even seem mad, he just looked frustrated, which actually made you sadder because you didn't want that to be the truth, you didn't want him to feel bad for something that he couldn't control.

"I should just leave, there's no point in arguing."

"No Y/N, you don't have to go, just shut up." He grabbed your wrist softly, letting you choose, and a devilish smirk appeared on your face as you got an idea.

"Well why don't you come over here and make me?" He looked surprised for a few seconds, but when the anger in your eyes turned into lust he mimicked your expression, more than eager to finish the discussion the right way.

He strengthened his grip on your wrist and he pulled you towards him so that there wouldn't be any space between you two, he looked down at you and kissed you passionately, playing with the hem of your skirt and gesturing for you to jump, and so you did, your legs hugged his waist and your hands tangled in his hair just the way he liked it as he walked to your bedroom, carrying you in a different way than he had planned earlier.

He sat you down on the bed and started undressing himself with quick clumsy movements that scattered his clothes all around the room, which might have not looked quite sexy to a normal person passing by, but to you, watching his back tense as he took his shirt of and threw it towards your nightstand was incredibly hot.

So you tried to do the same, to see if he would look at you the same way, but of course, you were still tipsy, and you almost fell to the ground for the second time while stumbling on your own skirt, but Diego’s arms were there to hold you once again, and much to your surprise, there was love and passion in his eyes, which only made you desire him more, but just when you were about to kiss him again, he stopped.

“You’re not sober baby, are you sure you want to do this?” He looked concerned and it made you soft because he was just such a good man.

“Diego Hargreeves, I’m not entirely drunk and I’m giving you my explicit consent.” You mocked him a little but you regreted it instantly, because as soon as you said the words he pushed you on the bed and removed your underwear, the last piece of clothing between you.

You reached out to kiss him and this time he kissed you back with the hunger of an animal. His hand went to your throat and pressed lightly, which gained a moan from you and allowed his tongue to finally meet yours, but it was too slow for you, you wanted more and more and more than you could take, so you turned the game and got on top of him, which he didn’t seem to enjoy as much.

Diego loved being in control, and by taking it away from him you were showing him what would happen if he ever made you feel lonely again.

You put your hands on his shoulders and eagerly lowered yourself on his dick, slowly taking it all in and getting used to his size before you started bouncing. It felt incredibly empowering to be in control and it made you drip with arousal.

He tried to help you by thrusting his hips but you pushed him down. You knew all about his games, he would start regaining his dominance bit by bit and before you knew you would be beneath him, begging for his mercy. But you weren't about to let that happen, not today.

“Damn.” He cursed both in pleasure and surprise.

You wouldn't even let him grab your hips, you fastened your pace by yourself and he was completely helpless, and the thought of him not being able to do anything he wanted made it harder for you to last. You had just started and you were about to cum already, all because it had been days since the last time he made you feel like this.

Apparently, your orgasm closing in was noticed by both of you, because the minute you got distracted in your pleasure he lifted you and helped you place yourself on his face, and when he was finally allowed to move he took advantage of it.

He ran his tongue across your folds in a painfully slow matter a few times before concentrating on your clit, licking and sucking fast and hard, the way he knew would make your knees shake in a matter of seconds.

“Oh for the love of- fuck!” He twirled his tongue around that extremely sensitive spot one last time before you came in his mouth.

You laid beside him, legs pressed together in adrenaline and a smile on your face, you had missed him in every possible way.

“Yeah that’s me, I love to fuck.” He laughed stroking your hair and pushing a few loose strands away in a loving matter. Diego was the absolute king of aftercare, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he made sure you felt safe and loved before you both drifted off. “You do know that’s never going to happen again, right?”

“Oh it will happen over and over if you keep pissing me off, and I kinda liked being on charge for once.” You turned to face him but he wasn’t laughing with you. He wasn’t serious either, he was just staring at you as if you were an ethereal being, as if he couldn’t believe you were laying next to him, afraid that if he blinked or looked away you might slip from his arms.

“I love you baby, and I promise you will never ever feel alone again, and I’ll only leave when you want me to.”

You kissed him, a tiny peck on the lips to ensure him that you believed his words before you fell asleep, finally feeling how his warmth made your pillows softer, your bed more comfortable and your dreams more beautiful.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves umbrella academy #diego hargreeves angst #diego hargreeves smut #umbrella academy angst #umbrella academy smut

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inomios · 3 years

Text

Beauty Behind the Madness || levi ackerman x reader (TEASER)

Summary: “You knew that under all of his layers of grief and rage there was something worth loving; he knew that under your easy smiles and sweet words there was something dark lurking. He wanted all of you and you wanted all of him.”

Genre: Fluff, Angst, this teaser is mainly angst

Author’s note: This should have been published today, but my latin teacher decided to schedule a big exam this last Wednesday, and I had to study non-stop for it, making me fall behind with my publishing plans. I have rescheduled the publication of ‘Beauty Behind the Madness’ for this Tuesday 23th. In the meantime, enjoy this little teaser.

. . .

1. REAL LIFE

He had carved on his soul, heart and mind the words that Kenny had once told him, back when he was a scared and weak kid under his wing in the Underground, back when Kenny had caught him crying in the dead of night over his mother.

‘Boy, you won’t survive a day with that attitude. Your mother was a whore and now she’s a dead whore, get over it. You don’t have time to mop over her, crying is for people who have nothing more important to worry about.’

Kenny, for better or for worse, had taught him many lessons that became the key to his survival, advices he would never forget, and this was one of them: ‘Grieving is a waste of time.’

Every second he cried over his mother was time he could have spent granting his sorrowful existence. He couldn’t let his grief control him, because missing his mother wouldn’t make him last another day, she couldn’t protect him now that she was gone. So, for better or for worse, he let his sadness and rage aside and started focusing on what was important: survival.

Grief is a tricky feeling, it makes you think you can control it, while it just keeps bottling up until it explodes, and you better be ready for when that happens, because you may not be able to fix the mess it’s going to leave behind.

Levi thought he had masqueraded his feelings pretty well, he tried to shrug everything off, as if nothing mattered to him, but it did, and Kenny knew it and he loved to tease him about it, he loved to press his buttons, Levi had learned that pretty soon in the relationship, but he was trying to handle his feelings, he wanted to prove Kenny he was worthy of his time, that he was strong, that he wasn’t weak, not anymore. So, whenever Kenny tried to get a reaction out of him, he kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t water down the fire in his grey eyes and Kenny could see it, he always could.

‘You are as worthless as your mother, maybe I should leave you in a brothel too, then you would be useful for something.’

A loud howling laughter.

Levi’s brow twitched.

‘Did your mom have time to teach you how to read or was she too busy fucking half the Underground?’

Kenny thought he had said something hilarious. He bent over his back.

Levi had a little knife clutched in his hand. He was starting to see red.

‘You’re as worthless as your mother.’

Kenny was pushing him to his limits.

Levi had already passed them.

He liked to think that there was a dark abyss inside of him, a bottomless place where he could hide all his emotions and thoughts, they were useless, so he ignored them, kept them away, far from the surface. Levi thought that he could detach from his pain, but it was a part of him, and when you stare into the abyss for too long, the abyss stares back at you. The Levi who grieved was still there, looking at him, the Levi who felt too much but said nothing wanted to get out, so he did, he escaped from the abyss and took control.

He run towards Kenny, eyes gleaming with unshed tears, knife in his hand, aiming for his heart, but Kenny was faster, quicker on his feet, he moved just in time. However, Levi still managed to scratch his shoulder, he teared his shirt and he could see the blood running, tainting the white fabric.

Kenny got mad. Levi had never seen him that furious. He grabbed his scrawny body and gave him the beating of his life. When he ended, Levi couldn’t even move, he was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood.

‘Listen kid, I don’t give a fuck about your shitty problems. You think you’re special? Guess what, you are a piece of shit, just like everyone else. Everyone here has issues, solve them or do whatever you want to do with them, but don’t you ever dare to pull a stunt like that again, because I’ll will leave you to die here, boy.’

That was the second lesson Kenny had told him: ‘Control is vital.’

He thought that by ignoring his feelings was controlling them, but he was wrong, he realized that when those bottled emotions caused him to be bed ridden a few days.

Instead, he decided to let his feelings out in really calculated moments, he started to canalize all his rage into more productive stuff, like cleaning. He liked to think that by cleaning he had control over something, there was something cathartic to him in scrubbing floors, doing the laundry, and mopping floors. It was the Underground, it was filthy no matter how much effort he put into it, but it gave him something he could focus on, something he could use to let his frustrations out.

So, he cleaned, for his mother who deserved a better live.

For the innocent child that he once was, who had been stripped from everything he loved.

For Kenny, who he despised and was cruel and ruthless.

For all the things he had to do to survive.

He cleaned and cleaned, and he never had an outburst again. He was in control.

Looking back, he is sure that part of Kenny’s fury that day was because a kid made him bleed. You see, Kenny liked to think of himself as some kind of god, a ruler, someone who could control everybody, someone who was holding your fate between his calloused hands. And when he hurt Kenny, both of them realized two things: ‘Gods bleed to.’

Levi learnt his third lesson that day. No one could control him, the same way he couldn’t control anyone. You are the one who makes the decisions, just be sure to choose one you won’t regret. Kenny had no power over him, he wasn’t a god and if he was, Levi wouldn’t bow down to him.

Kenny learnt that Levi, that child, had a fire within he couldn’t tame, Levi wasn’t going to be a submissive, brainless follower. He had potential, he had willpower, he didn’t really need him, but the boy didn’t know it yet. So, when the moment came, he left. He had grown to care about his nephew, at least a little, but Levi was a survivor and Kenny knew he would fight with teeth and claws until the very end. Therefore, Kenny left him with the only person who could protect him: Levi himself.

When Kenny left him at his own, alone again in the Underground, he learnt his fourth lesson: ‘Love is a risk he wasn’t going to take again.’

2. LOSERS

Stupid is next to ‘I love you.’ He was pretty fucking sure of that.

He made a bow to himself: he wasn’t going to love anyone ever again, people are bound to leave, and whenever they left, they took away a part of him, and he was already to broken for that. However, life happens, and it turns everything upside down, it doesn’t ask for consent, so his plan of never loving again was ruined sooner than he would’ve liked.

Furlan came first. He wasn’t looking for a companion, at all. A companion meant more people to care about, a distraction, and he didn’t need any of that. However, Furlan managed to convince him that he could be useful to him. Whenever he looks back, he thinks that both of them knew that Levi didn’t need anyone, he could survive on his own, he was tougher than anyone else in the Underground, but he was alone, so alone, and a part of him yearned so much for someone that he let Furlan come with him.

Their relationship was weird at first, not sure where the boundaries of the other laid, what they could do or don’t. Furlan didn’t want to overstep and piss off Levi and Levi didn’t want to overshare with him, he didn’t want to show him his weaknesses, but at the same time he wanted to spend time with him. He remembers that there were moments when Levi desired to say something, talk about pointless stuff, but he never did, after Kenny he was so deprived of human contact that he even thought that he had lost his voice. However, as time passed them by, they fell into some kind of easy routine, boundaries came clearer. Furlan started to get Levi, how he would never start a conversation no matter how bad he wanted, how his mind was always plotting something, how he always had an ace upon his sleeve… Furlan grew fond on him, he knew that there was a lot Levi wasn’t telling him, but from time to time he got to see a glimpse of the man he was under his façade and layers of secrets, and he wanted to learn about him, he wanted to be his friend, he wanted to have someone to help and he wanted someone to take care of him, he wanted to stay. On the other hand, Levi liked how Furlan seemed to know when he could talk and joke around and when he had to stay silent, it was like he understood him, Furlan was prudent and chill, thinking before acting, and he knew when to fight and when to give up. Levi started to care about him, a lot, and against his better judgement, he just hoped he wouldn’t regret his choice.

Then, Isabel appeared on scene. Levi was happy enough with Furlan, he didn’t need someone else to worry about, that was more trouble, more chances to get hurt. However, he soon found he had a soft spot for the girl. She was so energetic, so bubbly, eyes always gleaming with hope, she was a ray of light in the darkest place. She was messy, reckless and wild, she balanced them out. When she asked to join them, Levi wanted to let out one of his characteristic ‘Tch’ and turn his back on her, there was no room for compassion in the Underground, but he couldn’t, he was weaker than he thought. He couldn’t leave her at her own, knowing she could get herself killed, he didn’t want to be like Kenny, he wasn’t going to be like him.

The three of them became a gang, well, not just a gang, a family too. They looked after each other, they looked after Levi, just like his mother did. They were the best criminals in the underground, and sometimes Levi felt like a god with the world at his feet. He shouldn’t have forgotten his third lesson: ‘Gods bleed too.’ He thought they were invincible, they weren’t, they were no gods, life wouldn’t bend at their will.

When Isabel and Furlan died, he didn’t even have proper bodies to bury, he just did two little makeshift graves and carved their name on the gray stone. He was the only person who would remember them, so he visits them at least once a week, mainly during his sleepless nights, when no one would ever question or notice his absence. Talking with them was the only reason why hadn’t given up a long time ago, he was their leader, he told them to always keep going, to never back down.

So, he kept going, for his mother, for Isabel and for Furlan. For the only people who ever loved him.

Maybe he didn’t really keep going, maybe he just let life pass, what mattered was that he was alive and fighting for a purpose, he owed them that, their deaths wouldn’t be in vain.

Why did he always have to lose everything?

Why there was nothing good in store for him?

He was bound to lose to lose everything.

Stupid is next to I love you.

He was so fucking foolish.

#levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman oneshot #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #Captain Levi #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi fanfiction

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retroellie · 3 years

Text

Dating Ellie Williams Headcannons

Summary: Headcannons for dating ellie

A/N: Have this because my last imagine was ass... I think i like writing headcannons way more than imagines lmao

Warning: TLOU2 spoilers, Mentions of death, PTSD, and NSFW/dirty talk

Word Count: 1.8k

- She fell in love with you when she first saw you

- She had just come to Jackson after the incident with the fireflies

- You being around the same age as her tommy asked you to show her around and tell her what’s what

- “Ellie this is Y/n, Y/n this is ellie.” Tommy introduced y’all

-Her heart stopped when she saw you, she couldn’t help the blush that was forming.

-She couldn’t stop looking at you when you were talking about the shops and sights around Jackson

- It seemed like you were liked around town, you were friendly to everyone and everyone knew who you were

- She will never forget the thing you said to her when you guys were in front of her new home

-”Tommy told me a lot about you and i just want you to know, you're safe now.”

-She felt for the first time she could let go, relax for a minute

-You helped her move into the garage, trying to make her as comfortable as she could be

- She wrote about you a lot in her journal, writing poems and drawing pictures of you

-You guys hung out a lot with Jesse and Dina but she would much rather hang out with you alone

-You two had become really good friends by the time you guys were 16, i mean Ellie opened up to you more than she did anyone

-Opening up meaning talking about her interests and some of her favorite childhood memories

-She was honestly too scared to tell you about her immunity and even more scared to tell you about her past, afraid that she was gonna scare you away

-You introduced her to cat and you definitely regretted it because cat liked her

-When they started dating cat was definitely the third wheel because you and Ellie were so closer

-You held Ellies hand when she got her tattoo, she couldn’t hide the blush than but blamed it on the pain

-You guys shared the same love for music, you showed her most of the music she listened to

-You would sleep over at her place a lot

-You guys would watch movies, talk about space and dance horribly to old music

-Y’all could never get bored of each other

-When you spent the night at her place you would sleep in her bed with her but it was as friends, Ellie didn’t want you sleep on the floor and you didn’t want to force her out of her own bed

-Ellie would always get so embarrassed when you slept over, she would always go into a gay panic

-By the time y’all were 18, she was head over heels for you

-You two were still best friends but her feelings got in the way so she was distant

-It got to the point where she didn’t want to be with anyone else, it was either you or no one

-She didn’t really have time for relationships so she didn’t really mind it

-She would play guitar for you when you came over, even attempting to teach you

-Everything she owned was yours and everything you owned was hers

-”God damn it, where is my Walkman”

-”Oh, I took it. Mine broke.”

-Ellie bashed on everyone you liked, Little did she know you liked her

- You liked the boy who worked at the bar? She had something to say about him

-You found out she liked you when you two were dancing one night

-Your arms were wrapped around her neck and hers around your waist, it was like a scene from a movie

-You both felt the tension, it made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy

-”I’m just a girl.... not a threat.”

-”Oh ellie... I think they should be terrified of you.”

-Next thing you know her lips were on yours

-The kiss felt like it went on forever until you pulled away, panting for air

-No words exchanged just a smirk and her pulling you out of the church

-She didn’t waste anytime, She’s been waiting for this moment

-Now that you guys were together, you guys were too powerful

-You guys spent a lot of time in her garage, i swear you basically lived there

-You guys could spend hours tangled up together or have heated make out sessions that lead to so much more

-Soft kisses and 80s movies

-endless sex i swear this woman is going to be the death of me

-I have said this before but this girl is always horny, i mean she still has raging hormones so she’s always on top of you

-She tries to highlight her tattoo when pleasuring you because she knows it drives you crazy

-She loves when you sit in her lap, it’s both cute and hella sexy to her

-Her kisses make you lightheaded, like you gotta sit down for a minute after she kisses you

-She finds your body fascinating, like it sounds cringey but she love everything about you body

-She likes to explore your body a lot, like what gets the best reaction out of you

-She’s kinda new to sex, she’s had a fling or two but nothing long term so now she really has to get this shit down

-She’s the top, i said what i said

-Joel has walked in on you two lots of times

-”Hey elli... OH FUCK. SORRY, I’m sorry.” He says while covering his eyes

-You both have to stop for a minute just to laugh your asses off

-Y’all were really loud too so like y’all got complaints a lot

-”Sorry, Y/n came over for a minute.” Ellie says busting through the door

-”Yeah i know, i heard y’all.” Joel joked

-She makes really bad cheesy pick up lines to you

-”You know I’m jealous of your heart, because it’s pumping in and out of you and I’m not.”

-”I’m literally gonna break up with you.’

-She never fails to make you laugh

-Her with her fucking puns mama, you can’t hide from her silly side

-Joel is a proud dad, he loves his lesbian daughter and her girlfriend

-Later on into the relationship ellie fully opens up to you

-You were tracing her tattoo one day, feeling the bumpiness of it

-”What happened?’

-She debated on telling you, Joel said not to tell anyone

-She gave in through, telling you about riley, her immunity, her and Joel's trip, even David

-She ended up crying, you’ve never seen her that broken down before

-You held her most the day, giving her all the kisses she needed

-When Joel died, you were basically always with her. Not wanting to leave her alone

-You were the one that found them. You shook ellie awake, Letting her sob into your shirt

-You brought her home, she could barely move. She was in so much shock and pain

-You cleaned her up and took days off of rounds just to lay in bed with her all day

-The nights were the worst

-She would wake up in tears, sweat drenched her body. She would bury her face into her chest, crying her eyes out

-”I saw him. All the blood..”

-”I know baby, it’s okay. I’m here.”

-you guys were still so in love with each other at 20, maybe even more if that was possible

-The trip to Seattle and trying to kill Abby really brought y’all even closer, seeing sides of each other you guys never had

-The fear and the defeat you both felt on that trip, it made ellie more in love with you that you stayed

-You two lived in a small farmhouse after the trip to Seattle, it was nice and quiet

-You lived like two cottagecore lesbians out in the middle of nowhere, it was a good change

-Ellie would love to paint you with flowers, she found that you and flowers together created a perfect masterpiece

-Ellie was kinda a city girl so you had to teach her a lot of stuff, you mostly read books about farms because you didn’t have a clue either

-You guys lived without pants, like no one was there to see y’all, no one to impress so like fuck it, who needs pants

-Ellie loved waking up to you in the kitchen, with messy hair and nothing but her t-shirt on.... Yes please

-To save water y’all would take baths together, it mostly always turned into bath sex

- Ellie was glued to your side, like wherever you went she was there with you

-She was very distracting, always kissing up your neck or moving your hips on hers

-I swear this woman was distracting without meaning to be

-When she was doing farm work and her tattoo would stand out, it made you want to jump on her every single time

-Sex with her back then was great but sex with her now was so much better

-She really matured a lot, she knew what she wanted and just how to do it

-Your pleasure came first to her, she loved the feeling of being able to pleasure you

-Don’t worry, you didn’t leave her out. You made sure she felt just as good as you

-She wasn’t shy so dirty talk was her thing

-”Just one more time baby, i wanna see you cum on my fingers one more time.” I’m so gross im sorry AHDS

-She would fuck you on literally everything in the house

-No one was near to hear y’all and y’all could do it anywhere and at anytime, it was fucking heaven for y’all

-Y’all were together a lot and although ellie loved it, she knew you liked your alone time

-She would go into her painting room and play guitar or draw, doing anything to keep her busy

- After a hour or two went by you would come in and sit on her lap, hinting that you were getting a bit lonely

-You were always there for her when she went through her attacks, telling her it was going to be okay and you were here with her

-”Y/N! I- I can’t.. can’t breath.”

-”Ellie baby, you're okay. just keep taking deep breaths for me, okay?”

-Seeing her like this broke your heart but you were nothing but patient with her, she was really thankful for that

-You never talked about joel or even riley, you knew those were sensitive topics so when she did talked about them you listened and allowed her to rant

-”You know, I think Riley would’ve really liked you.”

-”You think so?”

-”Yeah, she would’ve liked your weird taste in music.’

-Ellie dreamed about what it would've been like in a normal world

-She could see you two meeting at a movie theater, hitting it off and eventually getting married, Maybe adopting a kid or two

-She was so in love with you, no matter what you looked like or what your body type was. She loved you

!Credits to gif owner!

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #Ellie Williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie

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sweetpeasgirl · 3 years

Text

Treat You Better | Sweet Pea

Description: Based on the song “Treat You Better” by Shawn Mendes, Jughead and Y/n’s relationship is at it’s bittersweet end and Sweet Pea, her best friend, is there to defend her

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty but not really

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

The White Wrym is not where you thought you would spend your Saturday night but Jughead had said that he needed to take care of a few things and you didn't want to be blown off again. You understand that he's busy, you really do. He's the son of the former Serpent leader; of course he's going to have a lot more on his plate. You just didn't think he'd push you off of it- the plate.

Sweet Pea had warned you about that. It was the latest topic of argument between you. For best friends, the two of you fight a lot. You know he's just trying to look out for you, that's been his role since the two of you were kids. He's in the grade above you, and was originally your older brother's friend, but they fell out a couple years ago. He never left you though.

He's always been the one watching your back. At first he just kept you out of harm's way, whether that be from grade school bullies or the men who lurk in alleyways when you're trying to walk home. Now, though, he has to watch out for boys who say they care about you but don't. He has to watch out for heartbreak.

That's where Jughead comes in. Sweet Pea is just being his overprotective self, like usual. Sure, you've had your fair share of walking out into the busy street with your head down, and he's had to pull you back quite a few times, but this is different. He can't save a heart that's supposed to break. Jughead does care about you, or at least he did when you first got together last year. Some things, however, just aren't meant to last forever.

Forever is a long time and time has a funny way of changing things.

"Juggie, it's your turn," your voice is quiet as you hand him the wooden pool cue, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

It's cold in the bar and you had been alerted so suddenly that date night was getting moved here that you didn't have time to grab a sweater. You can feel the stares burning into uncovered shoulders. It puts you on edge as Jughead accepts the cue from your shaky hands and takes his shot absentmindedly. Something's going on in his head, you can tell by the way he furrows his eyebrows and watches the people around him.

You, meanwhile, are trying hard not to look anywhere but the green felt of the pool table. There's commotion all around you. Shouts can be heard from the bar and the sound of smashing bottles that accompanies them. There's laughter coming from somewhere else but it doesn't sound friendly. Whatever it's about is cruel; it’s something that should not be made a joke of.

You're definitely way out of your comfort zone. Hell, you're way out of your un-comfort zone. You're just plain scared and, with the lack of conversation that Jughead is providing, the regret is bubbling quick in your chest. You almost wish he would just break up with you so you can cry and move on already.

"Jughead," a loud voice breaks the awkward silence around the crowded pool table, "there you are boy. We can finally discuss what you wanted to talk about now."

A tall, middle aged man with light brown hair and a weeks worth of beard growth pats your boyfriend on the back. Jughead shoots you an apologetic look as he passes the pool cue back to you once more. Your blood runs cold as he starts to walk in the opposite direction with the newcomer. He's seriously leaving you alone, in a room full of people who honestly aren't the safest characters, on what was supposed to be your night. Something happened to the boy you first knew and this just settled what you already thought. It’s over.

Your eyes blur with unshed tears at the hurt and fear circulating through your veins. He disappears from sight and the dark atmosphere gets hazier as you grip the side of the table to keep yourself steady. You can once again feel the stares burning into your back. It's like they were waiting for you to be left unattended. When you're with Jughead, the heir of the Serpent crown, you can't be touched. When you're with Sweet Pea, their deadly warrior, you can't be touched. When it's just you, though, anything goes.

You don't know what to do. It's only a matter of time before someone approaches you and when that happens you'll be in a situation that you probably won't be able to get yourself out of. That's the one thing your mother always told not to do; never put yourself into a situation that you can't get out of. Sweet Pea would not be happy.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing here?"

Case in point. You jump at the sound of his voice but spin around instantly and bury yourself into his chest nonetheless. The tears fall down your face before you can stop them but you really couldn't care less. The smell of leather and pine surrounds you and warmth finally fills your body. Apparently you're colder than you had originally thought.

The relief that fills you is unmeasurable and you cling to Sweet Pea tightly, "It was supposed to be our night but-” you hiccup, tugging on his jacket- “I didn't want to miss another date night-” another hiccup- “I didn't want to-” you rub your forehead against his chest, your voice now just a whisper- “he left."

Your thoughts come out scrambled and between ugly sobs but it's enough for Sweet Pea to gather the overall picture of what happened. After all, he has been doing this for a while. He tightens his arms around you, the anger radiating off his uncovered skin in heated waves.

"He left you? Here?" Sweet Pea is seething when he pulls back.

He lifts you to sit on the edge of the pool table, the game laying discarded behind you. The visual reminder only makes the tears come faster and the warmth leave your bones again. You start shivering but this time you can't steel yourself enough to stop, the realization dawning before you can lie to yourself again. You and Jughead are done. You have been for a long time now and everyone else saw it before you did.

"Pea, we're over," you can't raise your voice above a harsh whisper, covering your raw face with your hands to suffocate the onslaught of cries you can feel bubbling to the surface, "we're over now. You were right."

You close your eyes to avoid staring into Sweet Pea's murderous chocolate ones. All you feel now is the ice circling your veins.

"Baby, hey," a large jacket that smells too much like Sweet Pea to not belong to him is draped over your shoulders, "it's okay. We'll go home."

The anger seeps out of his voice and you peer up to see the concerned face of your best friend once more. He's looking at you in the same way he was the time fell out of Jughead's tree house. You had blacked out from the fall and woke up in the hospital with a broken leg. He was so scared that he didn't leave your side for a minute. But it's different now, you're not physically hurt, so he shouldn't look worried.

You let out a sorrowful breath and just nod your head, a deep weariness settling over your being. At least you're getting what you had wanted. A clean break.

"Y/n, can we talk?"

You hadn't noticed Jughead come back but now he stands a little behind Sweet Pea who is still in front of you. Sweet Pea instantly turns at the sound of his voice, the rage back and in full swing. You just lower your head, too tired to keep it up.

"Jones you're so lucky I'm not beating the crap out of you right now. I didn't think you were stupid enough to leave her here but I guess I was wrong! You're just lucky I happened to be here. And that she doesn't hate you." Sweet Pea spits his words at Jughead

"Look, man, can I just talk to my girlfriend?" Jughead's voice is monotone, both of you knowing he's just calling you his so that he can officially end it once and for all.

It's for the best and you both know it. His phrasing, however, doesn't go over well with Sweet Pea.

"Are you serious right now? Or is this a sick joke? You forfeit that title when you left her as free game for anyone in this place,” Sweet Pea steps towards him and you hold your breath, knowing quite well who would win the fight if one were to ensue. “You're dating the most beautiful girl in this shitty town and you treat her like she doesn't even matter! If it was me she wouldn't be crying on a damn table, she would know damn well just how much I love her!"

Your head snaps up at his words, your breath hitching in your throat. The commotion of the bar is drowned out around you and all you can see is Sweet Pea's back. He can't really love you, can he? He's just making a point, being the best friend he always has been. The logic makes sense to you but you can feel your heart breaking for the second time tonight because of it.

You place a hand on Sweet Pea's shoulder, drawing his attention back to you, "it's okay Pea, I should talk to him at least."

He doesn't look happy but he nods, helping you off the table and moving to the side to let you pass. You look at Jughead and toss him a melancholy smile. It's wrapped with bittersweet memories from all your late night's at Pop's and early mornings coming back from the drive-in. Jughead and you had some pretty good times despite your inevitable end. Maybe, just maybe, though, you can make it a peaceful end.

"Y/n I do love you," Jughead takes his beanie off and runs his hand through his already messy, raven locks, "but not like I did before. Somewhere between moving here and, well, taking on the role of my dad I let us fall apart. I'm sorry."

"It's okay Juggie. I probably wasn't putting as much effort in as I could have," he scoffs at that, a guilty smirk on his face.

You both know that you gave this relationship your all. But, standing here now with Sweet Pea's eyes searing into your back, it's pretty clear that your heart was forming attachments with another person. Which means that sooner or later you and Jughead would have fallen apart anyway. Sometimes these kinds of things are no one's fault. It's a mutual heartbreak and when it needs to happen, it needs to happen.

"You know, y/n, I don't feel too bad about losing you to him."

You furrow your brows at his comment, your voice cracking slightly when you speak, "what do you mean? He was just saying all that stuff. Pea doesn't love me."

Jughead rolls his eyes and glances quickly at Sweet Pea before walking closer to you. You can tell he doesn't want him to hear what he's about to say.

"Y/n that boy is in over his head. It's a feeling I can relate very much to but listen to me," his eyes capture yours in a serious stare, "he's going to treat you better than I ever could. He's not going to leave you in dangerous situations or bail on plans. Can't you see he'd take a bullet for you?"

Your heart races at his words and you spare a glance at Sweet Pea. He's already looking at you, the worry back in his mesmerizing eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you, pulling a smile to your lips. Maybe Jughead is right. Maybe you love Sweet Pea as more than a best friend.

Looking at him now, his tanned skin glowing under the dim lights and his dark brown hair pushed behind his ears, there's no doubt in your mind that you're attracted to him. Sweet Pea has always looked handsome in your eyes, even after a fight with purple bruises staining his face. You think back to all the times he's been there when you needed him most. That boy drops whatever he's doing when you call; no matter if you're just bored or looking for someone to nap next to he’s there next to you. You've always felt at home when you're with him. Hell, you have a drawer in his room devoted to your clothes.

Sweet Pea loves you and you're pretty damn sure that you love him too.

Turning back to Jughead, you nod your head, "I'd take one for him too."

"Good. I think I'll leave now. Thanks for everything, y/n," Jughead pulls you into one last hug before heading out the door.

You pull Sweet Pea's jacket tighter around you as you walk back towards him. He gathers you once more into his chest and you let the last of your tears fall. There will never be a time when parting isn't such sweet sorrow. It's the beginning of something new but also the end of something that you once thrived on. However, wrapped completely in Sweet Pea's scent, you've never felt like you belonged somewhere so much.

"Ready to go home baby?"

"Yeah Pea. Let's go home."

#Sweet Pea #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagine #jughead jones #riverdale series #reader insert

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blitheringmcgonagall · 3 years

Text

The Prank

@magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world thanks for tagging me on the 7 sentence WIP tag, this is from a short prequel I’m working on set just before the start of We Can Be Heroes. That story starts off with the aftermath of the Prank, but I had never actually written the incident itself and have been working on it for a while... let me know if you like it...

He stares at the tiny footprints, bunched up, close together, a gnawing, burning feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know what it is. Rage, he imagines. Rage is fine, although he hates himself that it matters to him, when Regulus has made it abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with him. Rage is nothing like caring. Rage is fine, healthy, even. He tosses the map aside and lies there on his bed, wishing he were different. Peter is also lying on his bed own bed, daydreaming, sucking a lemon sherbet lolly, hand flicking through a Quidditch magazine.

“Can you stop making that infernal noise? It’s driving me insane!” he snaps, causing the blond-haired boy to nearly fall off his bed.

“Sorry,” Peter mutters, sounding a bit peeved.

He goes back to licking the sweet, quieter, but no less infuriating.

“Merlin, fuck!” he hisses under his breath.

He knows that Peter can hear him. The licking stops. He heaves a sigh of relief. He’s such an irritable bastard. He’s quite sure one of these days his friends will lose patience with him and kick him out of the Marauders’ dorm. Kick him out of the Marauders, altogether, if he’s not careful.

He’s never been much good at being careful.

He picks up the map again, on a whim, and glares as he sees the footprints still congregated together – Regulus Black, Severus Snape, Evan Rosier, Hugo Avery. What the ever-living fuck does his little brother want with those bastard wankers from his year? What are they doing to him? What lies are they feeding him? He wants to hurl something across the room, shatter the glass window looking idly out over the grounds, the photograph of the Potters, all three of them looking adoringly into each other’s faces and laughing, carefree. Rip Peter’s muggle poster of Farrah bloody Fawcett into shreds. Throw Remus’ chocolate out of the- no, he would never do that to Remus. Remus has enough shit going on in his life, he doesn’t need a pathetic, rich, pureblood, useless little fuck feeling sorry for himself and making his life any more stressful than it already is.

Selfish, useless, pathetic boy, you’ll end up on your own, nobody’s going to want you.

He hates that he can hear his mother’s cold, vicious tone so clearly in his head, see her face as vividly as though he were watching a muggle film, at the most inconvenient times.

Fuck everything.

Apparently, he said that last bit out loud, as James Potter, who has just walked out of their bathroom looks over at him with a slight frown. He’s wearing a white towel around his waist and vigorously towelling his obnoxious hair with another one. It nearly makes him forget how angry he’s supposed to be in favour of teasing his best friend for having such a bird’s nest on his head.

“Alright, Padfoot?” he says, squinting at Sirius because he’s blind and can see jack shit without his “coke” bottle glasses.

“Spiffing,” he says, putting on his best pureblood sneer.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to have any effect on Prongs, who is obviously as stupid as he is visually challenged. He walks over towards Sirius’ bed, casually, and stops right beside him, towering over him.

“What?” he barks, making his voice as rude and offensive as he can.

James stands there, still towelling his hair, unperturbed, not speaking, probably trying to think of a diplomatic way to find out what’s wrong with him.

“Spit it out, Pads,” he says after a beat.

Diplomatic my arse.

“No,” Sirius replies, moving away from James and scowling as his gaze falls back down to the map lying by his side.

“Fuck off,” he adds, in case the idiot hasn’t gotten the message.

James makes a non-committal sound and stays put. He puts on his specs and says nothing. Sirius can’t stand the silence, he knows that James knows this too, that it’s one of James’ favourite tactics to get him to talk and he hates James, hates that can’t cope with the silence, because if he starts talking, he’ll probably tell him everything. And even worse, he might cry. And Sirius has never, ever, not once, in all their years in Hogwarts, ever cried in front of his friends. He may have found himself a disused classroom and cried, after the first time he saw Remus transform and watched him turn back to himself, lying curled up in a ball, hissing with pain when they tried to help him, maintaining he didn’t need any help, that he was fine. But not in front of his mates, never in front of them.

“If you don’t fuck off this instant-“ he growls, his voice trembling so he has to stop mid-sentence.

“Reg, is it?” James says, glancing at the map which he forgot to hide from view.

Fucking hell. He knows from bitter experience that there’s no point trying to beat James when he’s on one of his mother-hen missions.

“Yes, you prick,” he says flatly, folding the map, too late.

James grunts something vague and moves to sit on his bed, opposite SIrius. He’s just come back from a gruelling additional hour of Quidditch practice, which nobody made him do, and he looks healthy and youthful and purposeful and kind. And it annoys seven kinds of shite out of Sirius.

“Mixing with the wrong crowd again?” James says, more a statement than a question.

“Whatever,” Sirius replies, dismissive.

“I’m sorry,” James said, after a pause.

He looks less certain now, his hazel eyes scanning Sirius’ face, wanting to make things better for him. Well, he can’t, Sirius thinking, with vicious smugness. Even the wonderful James Potter can’t solve his problems. Because Sirius himself is his biggest problem.

He laughs. It comes out sounding bitter and too watery for his liking.

“You can’t… if he doesn’t want you to help him, you can’t make him…” James says, running a hand through his hair.

“Never stopped you before,” Sirius says, folding his arms protectively over his chest.

James rolls his eyes at Sirius, but there’s no anger in them.

“Yeah, well, I’m a lost cause,” the messy haired boy replies.

He hates how stubborn, how dogged this boy is. Sometimes he wants to see how far he would have to push him away to lose him altogether.

“I don’t think Reg… I don’t think he’s able to, I don’t think he would be allowed to…” James continues.

“Fucking coward!” Sirius says, wishing he didn’t sound so bloody bothered by it all.

James looks over again, tossing a red t-shirt over his head.

“You’ve got me. I’m your brother now,” James says, quietly, confidently.

Sirius clenches his jaw. He will not cry, Merlin, damn it.

“You’re not my brother, Potter,” he says, derisively, dismissively, coldly.

He watches a flicker of hurt cross James’ face, replaced by something else. He watches as his friend picks up an apple and bites into it, placing a hand behind his head, crossing his long legs.

“I know that,” James says. “But you’re mine.”

#wcbh snippet #wcbh prequel #prongsfoot broTP #sirius black #james potter #regulus balck #the marauders #marauders era #mia writes #the prank

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1oserjk · 4 years

Text

— full stop | 03

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a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old.

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02 ⇋ 04

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

shit is 16k .. sry

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full stop | 03: unhappy birthday

Hyejin has always been a ball of fury when you poked at the wrong buttons on her. But something about Jungkook and the aftermath of the divorce has made her even more apprehensive of the man, and you can only do so much to shift her opinions elsewhere.

“Fuck him over. Somehow, someway — just do it.”

You choke.

Eyes widening, sputtering out, “H-Hyejin..”

“I’m not kidding,” she deadpans, already rolling up her sleeves, “How many times do I have to tell you that fucker will never learn?”

A hand comes up, “Okay wait.” You pause. “Are we going to collectively forget Jungkook is my daughter’s father?”

Her head shakes. “Not relevant—and also hard for me to care when it comes to him.”

You exhale, eyes fluttering closed and palms resting flat on her kitchen table. “Look, I know he’s not the most liked between everybody right now. But, I can’t just tell him no.. That’s not fair.”

“But there’s boundaries,” she points and argues, then prompts, “What kind of outcome does he expect when he goes out with the one person who caused most of the mess two years ago.”

Your eyes roll back. “She took a micro-portion of it.”

“Her presence was still there and highly significant if I'm judging from most of the nights you came to me for!”

“Hyejin.” You glare.

“And don’t even try to do That Thing where you deduce your own valid feelings and assume everybody else’s choices and actions are reasonable when it’s clearly not!” You glare and she blatantly ignores it, waving you off, “And I know you’re keeping everything within yourself for the sake of being a better co-parent, or whatever fucking advice you read in the facebook group you’ve recently planted yourself in, but god. I’m mad, anyone would be mad, so let me be mad for you.”

“No one is going to be mad about this,” you finally decide. “There’s nothing to be mad about. He is his own person and he can make his own decisions.” She pins her stare at your nails that you pick at. You feel it. “Even if it means going out with someone younger, more exciting, who prances around with a pen in her hand as if she’s really doing something useful all the fucking time for whatever goddamn reason. I could care less,” you can’t help but mutter under your breath shortly after.

“Ha!” One of her acrylics poke at you and you flinch. “You are mad.”

You groan out loudly. “I’m not mad,” you exasperate. “All I’m saying is for him to have at least decent taste if he’s going to date. Not someone so expectant after a divorce.”

Her eyes narrow.

“But that’s not the point,” you make sure to add right after. Fingers run through your hair and you sigh. “Look,” you ease gently. “I’m trying to be alright in this, okay? The last thing I want to do is stomp in like a madwoman and refuse a relationship that would’ve happened sooner or later.”

Of course, she disagrees. “God,” she stands, grabbing both of your mugs and heading to the sink. “You’re turning into one of those Milf’s that stand by to live, laugh, and love—it’s grossing me out.”

Your ears perk at attention and you smile smugly. “You think I’m a Milf?”

“Shut up. You’re flattered.” She turns it on to soak both of your cups before the coffee sticks. “I only dropped by to tell you that it’s okay to freak out once in a while.”

The only reason she’s been keening on you to go apeshit in front of your ex-husband, was the frantic phone call you left on the night of ditching Jungkook in your own kitchen. Being that she was here now, claiming that Kiumin ached for a playdate with Yeona, when in reality, her only goal was to scold you for not swinging at the doll Jungkook pranced around with as of late.

She puts a hand on her hip and leans towards the counter. “Turning to corny coping mechanisms like following a Bob Ross tutorial isn’t going to fix your rage you’ve been pushing down.”

“Okay, but that’s only because Jungkook still has some of his supplies laying around and the only thing I could come up with was painting a fucking sunset. Sue me,” you defend, throwing your arms up. “Besides, you weren’t there to see him, Hyejin. He was getting out of his office for once, smiling even, a-and it was different. A good different, and..” You’re completely at a loss, mouth opening, then shutting back closed, because what was even the point.

“..You don’t want to take that away from him,” she finishes, a tilt to her head and a consoling expression gracing her features.

“Exactly,” you exhale. “I can’t even be mad that she’s actually getting him out there, taking him to things that didn’t involve work. Something I couldn’t even do-“

“Hey, no,” she stops you, head firmly shaking. “No, you don’t get to do that. You were there and present, even on the days you were close to giving up before you actually did — you were there, trying your absolute hardest, clinging onto what he barely gave you. You were never the problem, okay?”

You meekly nod, tired eyes on her when she takes a firm hold of both of your hands.

She makes it clear, saying, “As a wife and a mother, you were always there and that is something nobody can take away from you.”

“I know,” you confess. “I’m just in a weird position right now, and I’m stressed out from it. Not mad—stressed.”

“And you don’t have to be, alright?” She shakes on your shoulder. “I know I insisted on breaking some plates and screaming, but hearing you out, I’m sure you would rather stray from the subject as a whole.”

“Please.”

“Alright. I’ll get out of your hair for now, and if I come up with something to do for us that doesn’t involve egging someone’s car—“

“Hyejin!”

“—then I’ll let you know.”

You huff out a breath and finally stand, entering into her arms she spans out. “I’ll always be worried about you, babe.”

“I know,” you mumble, “And I’ll keep telling you I’m fine every single time you ask.” She pinches your side that earns a loud yelp from you and a hiss of pain a second later.

“Love you.”

“Always,” you promise and then remind, “Please save some space for Yeona’s birthday that’s coming up, and be prepared for any phone-calls beforehand of me crying because my baby’s growing up and I have no control to slow down time for it.”

“Ah, that’s right,” she says. “Tell me if you need any help planning, alright?”

“Of course.”

“Kiumin, baby,” she calls out, heading towards the living space, “Buddy, let’s go. We gotta get home before dinnertime.”

Both of your children are on the floor, several toys in front of them and a television with brightly lit characters and colors that did not have to be at a high-volume as it was right now.

“Aw,” the little boy pouts, “Okay.” He turns to your daughter and waves hesitantly.

“Bye Kiumin,” Yeona yells out, clambering across the floor to get a hug. Short arms wrap around tiny figures and it’s absolutely adorable. Your eyes can sense a hint of red on Kiumin’s cheeks when your daughter’s hands tug tightly onto his. “See you soon, maybe.” She shrugs.

“Don’t worry, Yeonie,” Hyejin promises. “We’ll meet up again soon.”

At that, Yeona nods enthusiastically and shuffles herself forward for another hug directed towards your best friend. “Bye, aunt Hyejin.” She receives a soft pat to her head.

“Be safe on the way home,” you order.

They make their leave swiftly, and it finally gives you time to properly breathe—and think for a long while.

Tiny fingers pinch the paper in between them, a determination set in her eyes as she excitedly jumps around in her seat. “It’s done,” she announces.

Your eyes resemble a wink when you squint at her, sun shining way too brightly for it to be this early in the morning. It practically reflects Yeona’s attitude in starting the day like this, while you sit pathetically in an oversized shirt and coffee in hand.

Taking the time in the morning for yourself was barely a thing, especially when it came to your daughter and her way too early sleep schedule her school had willed her on.

Instead of sleeping in, you’re dealt with Yeona already being wide-eyed in her bed, making grabby hands at the toys in her bedroom you’ve put the time in cleaning up on the floor from the night before.

Even staying home in her matching sweats her father had gifted her, she would still request her hair up and out of her face for the rest of the day. So, you’d be taking fifteen minutes to slick her hair up in her choice of a ponytail or pigtails instead of preciously sleeping in. Even right after, she’d become hungry, wanting breakfast to go along with her cartoons she had downloaded on her tablet.

Which was perfectly fine, you’d be up soon anyway, so it would be better overall to just start the day off a bit earlier. It would only just leave you a bit off-looking and disoriented in the things you’d do for yourself.

Years back, when Yeona was younger and you were still married, the routine was easier and much steadier when you would tag-team in getting ready for the day, passing off your daughter after one task would be done for the other and it would be your own turn for yours.

At first, it left you frazzled when you were alone most days, but now, since the separation has settled in, it’d been okay for the most part. It just meant that some of the things and time you put aside for yourself were sacrificed, and that you would have to save your self care routine for later in the night when Yeona would flutter her eyelashes closed for slumber.

You excitedly clap a few times and reach eagerly. “Can I see?”

Yeona’s birthday was reaching close and for most of them, you would be able to know exactly what she’d want for that particular year. Normally, it would be a themed party of whatever she had been obsessed with at that time, and obviously the gifts you would drown her in. Last year went with a breeze. You were glad at that time when most of the conflict between you and Jungkook had faded when the time came, solely focusing on your daughter and that was it. But now, with the way things had left between the two of you recently, you were worried it wouldn’t be the same as this year.

Yeona had declared she wanted something different this year and decided that she’d write it all out in a list. Still unsure and a bit confused, you complied and set out her supplies for her to take over on the paper. It was only fifteen minutes after she claimed that she was finished.

Leaning towards her paper, you expected it to be drowned in color and design, taking the same artistic habits as her father. But to no avail, it was left blank.

Your brows furrow. “I thought you were done?”

She nods. “I am!”

“So.. Where—“ You awkwardly left off, wondering if she was hiding it beneath the table or behind her back. She giggles when you curiously dip your head under the tabletop.

“In here,” she points. A single finger pokes at her head and she proudly smiles before explaining, “The list is in my head! If you read all of it at once, then it wouldn’t be fun, so I’ll tell Mommy the first thing now and the rest for later.”

Your mouth opens in a sound of realization, and your eyes glint at how clever she became. “So,” you excitedly lean towards her more, landing a soft peck on her forehead. “What does my baby want for her birthday?”

“No party,” she firstly says with a firm shake to her head.

Your eyes widened. “No party?” Since the beginning, it’s always been one.

“Nope.” Her lips purse out with a crinkle to her nose. “Mommy,” she says, eyes twinkling. “I’m growing, so big girls don’t have parties.”

You hum, “Is that so?”

She nods dramatically.

“So what would you want this year?”

“I would like to ask if we could have my birthday at Uncle Jin and Joonie’s beach house.”

Your brows shoot up. “That’s all the way in Jeju..”

She nods. “We could all take the ferry!” Then, she pouts. “We never go on the ferry.”

Her idea runs through your mind for a few seconds before theorizing with her, mindlessly murmuring to yourself, “We could take the one in Busan and visit Grandma and Grandpa on the way..” You were sure they would want to see Yeona on the day of her birthday.

Her eyes brighten when she picks up on your mumbles, grappling your wrist and shaking it, “Yes, Mommy! We’ll take everybody, like, Daddy’s co-workers and Kiumin!”

It seems that you were already confirming the idea instead of considering it, though it all seemed like a perfect idea that wouldn’t take a lot of effort or stress. You can already imagine the small gathering for the weekend getaway, already knowing how much the others would like some time off, especially the guys that would always be cooped up in the suffocated shop filled with needles and ink. It would be a nice way of switching a few things up and catching up with the rest of the inner circle you’ve accumulated from the time of being with Jungkook.

“Well,” you start, “Let me have a conversation with your Daddy and then maybe,” you halt when she begins to turn giddy, “Maybe it will happen. But he’s going to have to ask Uncle Jin and Joon if it’s alright, so it's honestly up to them to decide..”

“Okay,” she quickly obliges, confidence set in her tone and smile, telling you that she was completely sure of her idea and their compliance to it.

“Of course!”

Jungkook’s head drops down in embarrassment while you sit across from him, mouth almost gaping.

“S-Seokjin,” you sputter. “You barely even gave it a few seconds to think about.”

He shakes a hand back and forth, “Why would I need to?”

“You can’t just..“ You lead off hopelessly. Turning to the lanky man next to him, you raise a brow. “Namjoon?”

“Fine by me,” he says over a mouthful of noodles, “We barely even use the house, anyway.”

“O-Okay, but-“

“We should go a week before the date to check up on it,” Seokjin suggests to Namjoon.

“You’re right, just in case anything is out of place,” he replies.

“The fireplace should be okay, right? I heard it rained last weekend.”

And then they fall into their own conversation, leaving you and Jungkook, the real parents in this situation — silent.

“I guess.. It’s happening?” You squeak out. The expensive couch sits uncomfortably on your bum, and you grow sweaty from being left to bask in the tension between the man across from you. It’s awkward, almost dragging on since you’ve entered the flat and sat down with Jungkook.

You were thankful at first, when Seokjin had butted in the conversation, boyfriend in tow.

The last time you’ve encountered your ex-husband, were only the past few weeks of dropping off Yeona on his days off, stoically handing her to him and running off until you would have to pick her up again.

It was childish, you knew that. You knew it exactly when you turned your back to him and completely shut him out three weeks ago. But at this point, it was the only way you were able to cope with however you were feeling about him, and simmering down most of your anger. But seeing that you would have to deal with him sooner rather than later, being that Yeona’s birthday was coming up, you were reluctantly willing to face him.

“Yeah, I don’t think we have a choice,” he chuckles, palms nervously rubbing against his knees. A small part of you is definitely basking in the way he squirms under your scrutiny.

“It’s fine,” you say, “This was the biggest part of Yeona’s list, anyway. She really wanted this.”

He offers a quirk to his lips, and your heart immediately seizes, having to force yourself to stop looking at him so obnoxiously. It’s gross, really, how you’ve managed to be so affected by him - good or bad, since the very start.

A throat clears, and it’s Namjoon, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other on Seokjin’s lower back. You grow curious if he noticed. “Tell Yeona we can have her birthday at our house in Jeju.”

“Thank you, really—to you both. She really wanted this, and for you guys to be there too.”

“Of course, we’ll send a message to the rest that they’re invited.”

With a smile, you stand and wrap your arms around both of them on your way out. “Thank you, again,” you can’t help but repeat. They only chuckle in your tight grasp that clearly proved how grateful you were to them.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” Jungkook offers when he stands.

You shake your head, “It’s alright. I took a bus here.”

“Then, I’ll drive you back.”

“Jungkook, no, it’s okay-“

Already disappearing into his room, he makes a grab for his jacket and shoes to head out.

Seokjin chuckles when you whip around to face back the both of them, “Stubborn.”

You’re breathless when you repeat in stress, “Yeah.”

“Have a good night, _____.” Namjoon and Seokjin simultaneously wave, sending you both out the door. You embarrassingly let out a light laugh, waving back and wishing the same for them.

You rush to the side of Jungkook when they disappear.

Nobody talks, even until you’ve reached his car, unlocking the doors and allowing you to slip in the passenger side.

He got the vehicle shortly after finalizing his move out of the house, offering the one you previously shared and owned. You didn’t have much of a choice when he slipped the keys in your hand and left shortly after without any argument. You were more nervous that if you pushed more for him to take it, he’d go out and buy you a new one the next day.

For Jungkook driving the sleek black car everyday, it practically seems unused, leather seats still having that particular smell and everything still being tidy around it. Then again, Yeona is now older and less messy than before.

Everything in the car is so exactly him, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it.

After buckling up and properly settling in, he slides the keys in the slot, leaving you to stare at the hanging car accessory up at the rearview mirror.

It’s a picture of you and Yeona, laid out on the floor. You remember the memory clearly, Yeona declaring a tickle fight and sprawling out on the floor for a fair match. Even with Yeona sat on top of you, it seemed that you were winning in the game with how her head was thrown back and a wide grin on her face, you could practically hear the squeal she was letting out in the picture.

He still had it.

For a second, you smile back at it.

You barely even notice the car already moving and him asking the question, “Why didn’t you drive?”

Your head flicks to him, and your eyes stay right at his jaw when he makes a smooth turn. You shrug, “It was nearby, I didn’t mind.”

“You should’ve told me,” he says, “I would have come home instead of you travelling all this way for me.”

Home. He still called it home, like it’d be any day now for him to return to it, that this was all a temporary fix until everything would get less foggy.

“It’s fine,” you pass off. “I didn’t think you would see the offer as worthy since Yeona is at my mom’s place right now.”

His head shakes, turning away from the road to catch your eyes for a split second. “I don’t need any reason to see you, _____. Just tell me, and I’ll be there.” It’s with vigour and promise, you almost turn flustered.

You let out a small scoff before looking down at your hands. “If you said that a long time ago, we would’ve still been married,” you joke, though it comes out bitter. “Thanks for the offer, though,” you sarcastically add.

The car suddenly halts and you look up, the red traffic light flashes in front of you.

Jungkook shuts his eyes before tiredly letting out a sigh.

You grow anxious, looking out the window from the side. Some of the restaurants and shops are surprisingly still open and you focus on the windows with bright lighting inside of the buildings. Friends and couples are eating out, some are laughing, and you wonder what some of their conversation consisted of. You surmise it’s something foolish when one of them throws their head back in a fit of laughter.

Your hands grip each other when a pair from the opposite side of your vision pucker up and kiss. It turns personal way too quickly and you immediately feel like you're intruding, grateful that the light turns green and you finally move away from the intimate image, wondering if you would ever get close to that phase of your life again.

The silent minute brings you to announce abruptly, “We’re going to take the ferry in Busan instead of here, so that she would be able to see your parents before leaving.”

“Sounds fine,” he replies. “My mother would like that.”

You nod.

“What about yours?” He suggests.

You sigh, head hitting the headrest of the seat softly. “Another detox trip. They said they would send her a birthday card before they would leave. Probably why they’re spending as much time with her as they can before they leave.”

Even with eyes on the road, he still seems to be listening intently. He hesitates a few seconds before asking, “How’s your dad?”

You send him a smile, the least you could do before answering, “Still hates you.”

He snorts. “Yeah,” he says, “I figured.”

You swallow tightly and decide to ask, “How’s settling with Seokjin?” It’s been a couple of years, but still, it all still feels new and something you haven’t gotten around to asking ever since.

He hums, “It’s quiet most of the time since he’s at Namjoon’s nearly everyday..”

“The place is practically yours then,” you attempt to joke again, but it comes out as hardly, not exactly comfortable to throw that specific tone around.

He shrugs. “Wish he would let me pay more than half of the rent, but it’s tolerable.”

“Are you ever planning to get your own place soon?”

“Huh,” he thinks. “Haven’t put much thought into it.”

“Well, if you ever do, I can always help out,” you quietly suggest and he takes a quick glimpse at you to see if you were actually being serious.

“Really?”

You nod. “Yeah. I actually think it would be cool for Yeona to have a second room at your place. So it’s home over there for her as it is with me.”

Another red light, and his eyes blink close for a moment. The conversation is going too fast and all of a sudden, it starts to hurt.

Jungkook doesn’t want another home, a place that reads that he is officially separated from you and out of his reach, not when it doesn’t include you in it.

It would hurt him even more if you would egg it on, support him and the move away from you, like you would want him to, and maybe you really did. He would understand why. Still, it hurts when you talk so freely like this, seemingly eager to get rid of him.

Jungkook doesn’t voice his disagreement, avoiding talking at all and keeping his mouth closed instead.

The conversation falls off after that, and he most likely figured that would be the most he got out of you for the rest of the car ride.

That was until you spoke up again.

It was quiet, almost barely heard, and it’s said quickly. “You can invite her, you know?”

His fingers unknowingly grip on the steering wheel.

You look back down. “I don’t mind and I don’t want you to think that I’ll hold you back from doing so.”

They want to reach out, grasp for your hands you keep fiddling with, scold you for biting on your lip too harshly, everything he used to do, he wanted to fall back and do it all at once.

They keep clinging to the wheel.

“I was mad back then,” you guiltily admit and he immediately shakes his head.

“You had every right to be.”

“I probably looked silly for being so mad on something I have no control over.” You move your eyes back over the window and the blurry images that pass by solemnly. “Especially when everything’s been said and done with, right?” You turn to him and he gulps. His heart drops at how quick and firm you said, as if it was that easy.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

“Maybe this is a learning curve for us,” you nod to yourself. “So, I’m open to having her with us this year.”

He had no idea why you were so sure that everything between Seol and himself were solid enough to introduce her as his girlfriend, fuck, even he wasn’t sure he could spit the word out himself.

Everything was going by way too fast, too much to process.

He only nods, clinging onto actions rather than words to speak for him.

His throat clears and the car slows down to a clear stop. You peak over his head and find your house already being presented as the car decreases in speed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” is all he says.

“Well,” your buckle releases and you slide out onto the edge of the seat, already gripping onto the handle. You offer him a smile. “Thanks, Jungkook.”

The door opens and he stiffly nods and doesn’t pull out of his spot until his own two eyes have watched your figure disappear into the entrance of the house.

“Did you double-check that you have everything?”

She nods.

“Okay, then I think we’re ready.” You clap, zipping up the rest of your bags.

She can’t even stand still with her excitement, having to run around at times when it got too much.

Ever since the beginning of planning this weekend trip, you surprisingly had a lot of time on your hands from the immense help of everybody else who volunteered to plan. You were glad that they reached out, but you also became antsy at the fact you had no control over the outcome of this gathering. In anything that Yeona wanted, you strived to make sure it would happen with reasonability. Being away from most of the planning had left you anxious on most days, wondering what Seokjin would be pulling under his sleeve on Yeona’s celebration.

“Here.” You hand her backpack to her, silently ushering her to turn around so you could slip it through her arms. “Sit on the couch and watch your show for now. Your father will be here soon to pick us up.”

She complies easily, shuffling towards the cushioned chair.

Before she becomes too absorbed in the cartoon, you ask a mindless theory for her to answer, “If Daddy shows up with a friend—that is a girl.. You’ll be nice, right?”

Her head tilts and her brows crease. “Girl—friend?”

Your fingers tighten against the hem of your sundress. “M-Maybe? I’m not sure, he hasn’t told me a lot about her..”

“That’s not right,” she notes. “Daddy should tell Mommy so she knows..”

You send her a softened smile that holds a sad shift in it. “Not this time, baby.” You look down at your hands. “Just be nice to her, okay?”

She only nods.

You brush off your knees when you stand back up, moving back towards your room to grab whatever else you might’ve forgotten and rush through most of your makeup bag to fix yourself up a bit.

You debated a few times in your head to switch up your dress for another one in your bag. Usually, you never cared, but this time, oddly, you wanted to satisfy more than yourself with the way you currently looked and dressed as - for whatever reason you cannot decipher as. But having to change, you would also have to switch out Yeona’s dress since you both decided to match today.

You decided not to bother since it would take too much time, especially since you hear the buttons being pressed at your front door, buzzing when the code punches in and indicating that Jungkook was finally here.

You quickly pull and clip on a necklace that was mindlessly set on your bedside table, and rush out the room with your bags.

When both of them come into view, you already see Yeona attached to Jungkook’s hip. No one else.

“Hey,” you breathlessly greet with a nod, trying not to seem blunt by focusing on the front door to see if a certain person tagged alone. “I hope this isn’t too much—? I cut down most of it last night..”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it,” then looks down at the bags, “But—uh, are you sure you need all of this? It’s only a couple of days.”

“Yeah, but,” you hesitate, pushing some strands of your hair away, “It’s clothes, swimsuits, sunscreen, shower products, presents—“

“Presents?” Yeona brightens.

“No,” You and Jungkook rush.

“Mommy meant something else..”

“Oh.” Her expression flattens. “Then what did she mean?” She presses.

Jungkook’s mouth gapes and he attempts to spit out an answer before you boisterly interrupt, “Oh no! We’re running late.”

He nods comically when he meets eyes with you. “Y-You’re right! Let me take your bags,” he offers.

You practically shove them into his hands when you switch positions, taking Yeona into your own and softly letting her down.

When you stand up straight, he eyes the both of you in awe when he notices.

“You’re both matching.”

You grow heated under his gaze and shyly nod, straightening out the flimsy skirt of your dress. “She’s been hounding me to get a mini size for her when I wear mine, so this was her first gift from me.”

Her tiny hands cling onto your fingers and squeezes them, “Yup! We wanted to look pretty for Daddy.”

You practically choke out a small cough at her statement as he arches a brow towards you, your cheeks dusting a shade of embarrassment immediately.

“T-There was no set intent for doing this exactly,” you defend with a growing pout before you childishly point at Yeona and sputter, “It was her idea and I just went with it.”

He chuckles, encouraging the dusty rose to spread to your ears and neck. “Well,” he starts and confirms, “You both look beautiful.” He’s already turning away and moving towards the door before you can react. “I’ll compliment you more when we get in the car, but we should hurry.”

You both scurry in front of him, and a firm hand lands on the small of your back to lead you out. Whipping around slightly, you turn surprised from the mere gesture.

A certain feeling washes over you — it’s nostalgic, almost drowning you from the blunt force when his fingers land on only the thin material that separates your skin from his. For a second, it feels like what it has always been.

Even as false pretense or even reassurance, you bask in the feeling you can only assume is melancholy and warmth, all at the same time. It’s bittersweet, but it’s something and it’s clearly there.

He offers a smile, and it’s not a polite one you usually send each other when you would interact, it’s not a forced one either. It was genuine, and it was towards you.

A smile that read this weekend would be a memorable one, like all of the other birthdays you celebrated each year.

For a split second, you feel like a family again.

The door clicks shut and you finally all head out to fulfill Yeona’s birthday journey.

“God,” he rubs at his shoulder that aches. “What did you pack in here to make me feel like this four floors down?”

Rolling your eyes, your daughter’s leg brushes against you when it kicks up for the minute of buckling her up. You don’t bother asking her to stop, silently allowing her to start playing with your hair when you lean over the other side of her carseat. You adjust her sandals while you’re at it. “We took the elevator, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“You weren’t the one carrying it,” he argues, shutting the trunk closed.

Finally finished with making sure Yeona would ride safely in the backseat, you recover your crouched form and rise. “You offered.”

He sighs, hands on his hips, and a smile creeping on his face he managed to halt before your eyes would land on them. “You never answered my question.”

Both of you make it to the front of the car and slip in, shutting the car doors simultaneously in coincidence.

You wave a hand in dismissal before reaching up for the seatbelt. “It’s a few gifts for your mother. She really liked the scent of the apartment when she last visited, so I packed a few candles of the ones I’ve been using.”

“A few?” He scoffs, pinning you a look. The car begins to run when he slides the key in the slot. He has a hard time believing in your estimate of the amount you were bringing when he picks up weights on a regular basis at the gym, not boasting when he clearly can’t help mentioning it every now and then. There were way more than a few.

You hesitate, observing him shift the gear and backing the car up and out of the parking space. “Fine, I slipped in a few more for Seokjin,” you confess and it’s clear that he has a smug smirk carrying his expression. “Only because he asked,” you huff.

A light chuckle slips out and his fingers on the center console almost twitch when he hears you let one out also.

You abruptly turn towards the backseat. “Yeonie? Please turn down your tablet.” It Had been ringing in both of your ears since you got in the car. You wanted to have a proper conversation without having to scream out your words over the rhymes and overplayed sound-effects.

When she does, you finally sigh and lean back in pure exhaustion from the lack of sleep the night before.

Jungkook notices.

“You okay?” He asks.

Your eyes flutter open slowly and you nod. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I’m dealing with the repercussions of it.” Your gaze on the road soon turns blank.

If you were being honest, it’s been a long time in dealing with enough sleep. If you were in bed, you were most likely staying up, keeping yourself busy, not deeming it as a good enough reason to sleep just yet. Before, you slept easily, paying no mind to what was happening around you, you actually slept. Something changed to the point where you weren’t granted that access anymore, having to question the exact reason on why you should even sleep. You weren’t sure if you would find it, sticking with just coaxing yourself into slumber through most nights.

“You can take a nap if you want,” he suggests. “It’s going to take a while before we get there, so you might as well.”

You hum absentmindedly, barely registering any of his words if you were being honest.

Yeona yawns. He shifts his attention to the back, watching Yeona squirm for a comfortable spot - as comfortable as she can get - in her carseat. “Are you sleepy too, baby?”

She mewls out a tired noise in confirmation and leans her head to the padded side of hers. “Daddy, sing to me,” she requests, blinking, lagging until they fully close.

Jungkook’s soft hums fill up the noise of the car other than the white noise surrounding you when he drove.

Your eyes go back to closing when it hits you, a metaphorical blanket that deems where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with — as safe. Your brows furrow unconsciously at the thought that you’ve been dealing with this specific problem about your sleep for God knows how long, but Jungkook suddenly fixes it and now it’s all gone.

You finally sleep.

An hour into the drive and you suddenly ask, “Is she.. Driving on her way too?”

His eyebrows furrow and he turns to stare at you, disoriented by the question. “Who?”

You eye him wearily and tip your head forward, like it was obvious.

He’s still confused.

“Seol?” You finally spit out.

“Oh.”

That’s all he says and you grow impatient. “So?”

“She’s not coming,” he finally answers. “I didn’t invite her. Why would you think I would?”

“She wasn’t in the car when you picked us up, or at the house, so I just assumed..”

“No,” he quickly denies, looking you in the eye this time. “She’s not coming.”

“Oh—okay.” You wonder why.

It’s silent except for when his throat clears and he turns the car.

“Um,” you drag unsurely. “Are you.. Still—seeing each other?” It’s personal, and you regret asking, but for the sake of your bouncing leg and bated breath, you wait.

“I—I don’t know? I mean we’re going out, but it’s not anything official.” He looks nervous, eyes shifting back and forth from one side of a street to another.

“So.. You haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend yet?”

This is weird. Too fucking weird and now Jungkook’s acutely uneasy because there is absolutely no malice in your voice. Just curiousness being unravelled.

“No, not really,” he nervously stammers, and he tries his best to gauge your reaction but you hold absolutely nothing to read on. “I want to decide carefully.” You suddenly stare back at him and he has no choice but to continue, “Like you said. I want to make sure it’s right. No fuck-ups anymore. Not with you or Yeona.”

Your head shakes. “Jungkook, you don’t have to-“

“It’s my decision,” he firmly states, “and it’s on my terms.”

Jungkook’s mother was always a bright soul who greeted and welcomed you with open arms.

The first time you were off to meet her, you were twenty-three years old and absolutely terrified, and you made sure to tell Jungkook that before you even stepped foot in the house he grew up in.

You informed him how much bad luck you came with when it involved meeting your partner’s parents. More specifically — your past boyfriends and their overly clingy mothers who did not like you no matter what you did, as long as you were dating their son.

“My mom loves everyone,” Jungkook explained previously the night before the anticipated meeting.

You shook your head vigorously, eyes wide and anxious, shivering from having the thought of reliving something you always dreaded. “That’s what they all say before we end up arriving and then all of a sudden I’m being pounced on by an overbearing mother who obviously can’t stand the thought of having another woman in her son’s life.”

He laughed. “Your exes were probably an only child,” and then continued to inform as if it would ease your nerves, “I have an older brother.”

You shrieked. “Holy shit, that makes it even worse because you’re her youngest. The baby of the family—her baby.” He cackled and you landed a solid strike at his arm with a whine, “Jungkook, Take me serious.”

“Alright, okay,” he shushed you and tugged at your hips before closing in on you. “I can assure you that my mother isn’t some type of villain you’ve painted out in your head.”

You winced and patted his chest with a pout, “Sorry. Past minor trauma.”

“I get it,” he reassured. “But she’s different than the rest, I promise.”

And she definitely was.

The house fills with a scent of something cooking on the stove top and it immediately engulfs you in warmth when you hear the television going off in the spacious area of the living room, assuming it was Jungkook’s father planted on his signature chair he was always found in.

When Yeona finally kicks off her shoes, she immediately runs through the house to find her grandmother.

“Careful,” Jungkook calls from next to you.

He notices your dazed state and takes a step closer. “How are you feeling? Still tired?”

Your mouth falls open and you shake your head with a smile, brushing it off, “My head is aching a bit from the long car ride, but I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll sit down for a few.”

He shows concern in his expression and leans forward to inspect you carefully. “Come here.”

“I told you I’d be okay, Gguk. I’m fine.” Still, your feet take you closer towards him until calloused fingers land at your temples before applying pressure. “Mm,” you let out in surprise, lips pressed when he goes in circular motions against your skin, grappling onto one of his wrists for support. Your eyes flutter shut when the pain starts to subside. Four fingers each from both hands are firmly planted while his two thumbs continue to ease the throbbing that’s been planted in your head since you’ve gotten out of the car.

“Starting to feel better?” He murmurs softly.

You nod with the space he provided for it. “I still think I should just take some medicine.”

He doesn't stop his ministrations, only humming. “In a minute. Want to avoid my mom a bit longer before she starts to ask why I haven’t been visiting lately.”

A smile quickly settles on your lips and you squeeze at the wrist you’ve been gripping on.

It’s up close when he sees you softly giggle and his heart surges forward. Your eyes open back up and you’re suddenly staring at such a close proximity.

“She worries about you.”

“I know,” he promises. “Just not sure what to say when she starts interrogating me.”

Before your mouth can slip in an answer, a throat clears and you tense immediately.

You both stiffly turn towards the new figure in the room who raises an amused brow.

“Uh, hi Mom. Where’s Yeona?”

“With your father.”

You remember suddenly before coughing and tugging at Jungkook’s hands that stay planted against your head.

“We were just..” Jungkook attempts, wiping off his palms that have gotten significantly clammy in the span of a minute or two.

“Headache,” you finish and state for him.

“Yeah.”

“Did we go back in time before medicine was a thing?” She jokes then tilts her head towards the direction of one of the bathrooms. “There’s painkillers in the medicine cabinet.”

“Uh I’m going to.. Yeah.” Jungkook scratches at the back of his neck and seems unsure before seeing himself out to grab for the bottle of pills.

“Please, don’t give me that look,” you beg once the embarrassment settles in and your cheeks start to warm up.

“No, I’m just happy is all.” She smiles in satisfaction. “Last time I checked, you were divorced to my son.”

You groan. “And I still am.”

“Then what was that?” She refers back to the scene she had unfortunately walked in on.

“A ploy to drag out time before hearing your questions about why he hasn’t been visiting as often as he should be,” you easily tattle.

She gasps.

Jungkook walks back in with two bottles in hand, eyes bouncing back and forth to each one. “It doesn’t matter which brand right? I brought out two just in case-“

“Jeon Jungkook,” his mother scowls.

He freezes and looks up to his infuriated mother, then pointedly looks at you before the gears turn in his head.

“You told her?”

You simply shrug and snatch both bottles away before his mother would start shifting her target towards him. “Thank you.”

You don’t bother to hear the scolding, instead, walking through the house to find where your daughter had drifted off to.

Mrs. Jeon takes some time to catch up with her son and gives you enough to rest from the prolonged car ride.

Small feet tap on the wooden floor and you try to search for the doe eyes and pouty lips that come with them.

“Yeona, where have you been?”

“With grandpa!” Then, she enthusiastically stomps. “He said my gifts are hiding from me.”

You chuckle. “Is that so?”

A bigger pair of feet walk in and Mr. Jeon looks flustered, as if he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do. His head angles down to Yeona and he explains, “I messed up! I was supposed to wait for Grandma to feed you guys before I said anything about birthday presents.”

Your mouth opens to reply that he was perfectly fine before large hands settle firmly on your shoulders. You squeak and jump, registering that it was only Jungkook when you whip around to face the culprit. “Seriously?”

“It’s payback,” he simply says. “I got scolded for fifteen minutes all because you decided to be a snitch.”

“Sorry.” You softly nudge. “She was assuming too much when she saw us.”

“Ah,” he realizes, and he suddenly seems okay with the thought of going down just for you. “I’ll have to talk to her again about doing that. Sorry.”

You dismiss it with a smile. “Just more worried about you. Poor baby,” you tease. “What? Did she make you face the wall for five minutes?” He scowls. “Jungkook, she misses you,” you reason.

“I know,” he mumbles. “I promised her I would be here more often.”

He has that look in his eye you are way too familiar with — when the gears start turning and he begins to overthink his whole entire schedule for the month, figuring out the time-slots—if he even has any free space for it.

“Hey,” you call, and he snaps out of it. “Don’t try to fill your family in your schedule as if they’re appointments. You’ll visit when you want to, okay? Not because you have to.”

He exhales and nods. “Right. I will.”

He then notices your features significantly brighter than the last time he’s taken them in, no more fatigued, so he asks, “Did you take the medicine?”

You nod. “I just took it, but moving around a bit is helping a lot already.

“That’s good.”

His brows furrow when he catches the expression on his dad. “Is he okay?”

You turn and observe him tailing your hyper daughter who has been checking every crevice of the house for any mere glimpse of eye-catching wrapping paper.

“Like father, like son,” is all you say and he stares on with no clue. “He’s literally a second away from hearing his own scolding.”

Mrs. Jeon walks in and shrieks. “You told her already—?!”

The man beside you sighs and questions out loud what on earth his father had done.

So, you explain, “They put on a scavenger hunt for Yeona’s gifts. Except, it was supposed to be after lunch.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah.”

“You were supposed to wait so that I could take pictures for it!”

The older man’s hands get thrown up in defense. “She hasn’t found them yet, it’s fine.”

“What if she actually does?” She tests with a brow raised.

“Mom,” Jungkook calls and both of his parents finally turn to give him attention. “It’s alright. We can do the scavenger hunt now since we’ll be leaving soon.”

“You aren’t going to stay and eat?”

“Please don’t worry,” you kindly decline. “I’d feel bad if you were to cook something, just for us.”

She waves a hand carelessly in the air. “Nonsense! I want to do this for you. It’s been way too long since the last time I cooked for more than two people.”

Your elbow prods at Jungkook who lacks his own attention. You quickly send him a look, a silent message to stop her from whipping anything up when you wouldn’t have much time to properly eat it, given from your strict itinerary.

“We only have half an hour to be here before the next Ferry arrives,” he finally speaks up.

“Oh,” his mother dejects with a pout. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“Yeah, sorry mom.”

Your hip pushes against his side, and your throat clears. “We’ll come back and stay for dinner,” you promise.

“Please do,” she nods. “My son doesn’t even visit anymore.”

She plainly ignores Jungkook, whose mouth has dropped significantly. “Mom—! I told you I would visit more often.”

“Can’t even make a simple phone call,” she tsks. “Your ex-wife interacts with me at least three times a week—more than you ever did within a month.”

“Mom!”

Your hand lands on top of his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze and sending his mother a smile of understanding. “We’ll be there. Promise.”

She sighs, hands smacking against her fruity apron and then clapping enthusiastically. “Alright, fine! Let me get my camera first.”

Her son groans. “Just use your phone.”

Her head shakes, already bending down and shuffling through the drawers, “But you got me that nice camera for Christmas! I haven’t used it yet.”

“Alright, fine,” he reluctantly obliges. “Dad, will you please give my daughter a hint? She’s going crazy here.” He points and your daughter is exactly there, crawling through the coffee table and easing herself to the next tiny space she can fit in.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt yourself,” you warn when she breezes through a few expensive-looking structures around the house, “Or break something.. Jungkook—!” You tug on his sleeve and push him to grab her before any mishaps could happen.

When Jungkook finally gets a hold of a squirmy Yeona, his father finally ushers everybody outside towards the direction of the backyard where the scavenger hunt is officially located.

“They just texted me that they’re already at the house,” Jungkook suddenly announces by the time Yeona finds her fourth present.

You double-check the time on your phone and worriedly ask, “Do you think we’re running late?”

His head shakes. “I doubt it. If anything, we’re probably on time. We left really early in the morning.”

You sigh out with both shoulders deflating and he notices. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you ease. “Just worried, you know? This is the first year we aren’t doing a birthday party and she’s only turning six.”

“Hey,” he chuckles. “It’s not like these aren’t going to be a forever thing.”

“I know,” you groan and rub harshly at your temples. “I think I’m just so used to big gatherings, the amount of unnecessary attention, and the cake nobody eats because it’s all it really was for me growing up.” As much as the parties were for good intentions, it was never in a good way.

The only reason your mother was set on giving you a birthday party every year was for the pictures and some way into measly bragging about how well her life was going and not everybody else’s.

“And in no way I’m saying it as a way for Yeona to live through whatever I went through, but every year I try my best to plan something she wants.” You rub at your elbow unsurely with lips turned downwards. “For some reason, her not asking for one this year makes me think how much she didn’t like the others and how shitty I am for not seeing it much earlier.”

Yeona giggles when she picks out another that happens to be sneakily hidden snug between a few branches of a tree.

He shakes his head and calls for you softly. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen her happier with every passing birthday you manage to outdo every year. Our daughter also has incredible confrontational skills - If she doesn’t like something, she’ll tell us regardless.”

You snort. “Right.” You grow nervous how serious he becomes when you catch onto his eyes and his front faces you so suddenly.

“She loves what you do every year,” he assures. He then reasons, “And maybe next year it’ll be different — she’s growing up.”

You slowly nod, handing him a laugh of disbelief. “Yeah. God, you’re right. Sorry.”

“Even standing here with a headache, you’re still worrying for nothing,” he scolds.

“I told you I already feel better,” you argue in return. “The medicine helped a bunch. I’m okay.” And for the next ten minutes, you ignore the side-eye full of concern overpowering on his side when he shoots you a glance. He’s known you since the start of his twenties, of course he would be able to pick out if you were lying or not.

“What’s the count?” Jungkook asks, eyes squinting from the bright sun casting down at the colorful yard.

His mother points the camera at him and raises a hand, “Number Five!”

“And how much in total?”

She pouts. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if I told you.”

“Mom.”

You shush him. “Leave her alone.”

“Six! Six! Six!” Yeona yells near the fence.

“You found the sixth one, sweetheart!” Jungkook’s father exclaims.

His mother curses and whips the camera back around. “I missed it!”

It’s comical when you watch it from afar, and a large smile blooms across your face at the three. “God,” you snort, quite endeared by the sight, “This is a mess. It’s cute.”

Jungkook stays behind alongside you to simply observe you and them, and he’s already memorizing every part and aspect of this moment to set aside for later.

Everything fell into place so perfectly, everybody belonging exactly where they were supposed to be.

“You really do look pretty today, _____.”

Eyes widening, you whip around to his figure with a questioned gaze.

He’s willing to repeat the words, let you know over and over until you grow tired of the repetitiveness, drown you in all of the compliments he’s thinking of right now.

But, you curtly nod and turn away. “T-Thanks.”

His hand reaches out, exactly to where yours is and his sight subconsciously falls on your fourth finger that was blank of a specific jewelry he put on you two years ago. It’s already been two fucking years and he still grows somber when his eyes catch onto where the diamond used to be.

No matter how many times he can confront it with his own eyes, stare at it for however long you would allow him to look, seek it every time it would raise or show itself — It still hurts nonetheless.

It’s exactly what makes him pull back and grip onto the chain tucked into his shirt, away from your eyes to see the charm that glints exactly like the first day you put it on him.

Finally having it be the middle of the day, you get to leave and head towards the station to get from Busan to Jeju.

The station is way more quiet than what you initially anticipated, it being the weekend and all, but the line barely lasts a minute, and you’re already boarding the ferry, right behind Yeona who holds her father’s hand tightly across the dock that transitions to the ship.

“Snacks?” Is the first thing Jungkook asks for when you all sit down and you quickly reach into Yeona’s backpack.

“All I have our a few baggies of rice-puffs and juice-boxes.”

“I want one!” Yeona intercepts, and greedy hands suddenly wave in front of your face.

“Alright, baby, hold on a minute.” You request and stare back up at Jungkook to propose the idea of sharing a muffin his mother offered last-minute when you slipped through the door to part ways. “There’s only two juice-boxes.”

Jungkook’s head shakes, going to decline the kind offer and allow you to have it before Yeona perks sweetly, “Daddy can share with me!”

His thumb and pointer softly caresses the supple cheek beneath it before landing a kiss on it and murmuring, “Always so sweet.”

Sitting back down, Yeona on Jungkook’s lap while you sit side-to-side, plastic cover of the muffin opened and lips pursed out to your own straw.

With Jungkook’s hands full, squirming daughter all over his lap, you make it easier for him by popping small pieces of the muffin in his open mouth.

You let out a laugh when you miss and watch a few chocolate crumbs dribble down his chin. “Sorry,” you murmur with a smile, fingers rubbing off some of where the chocolate smeared against his skin.

“Do you need a tissue?”

Turning to the nimble voice, you notice an elderly lady with a soft smile she carries so sweetly. “I’m sorry,” she laughs off. “I just noticed how much of a mess you’ve made on your husband.”

You both don’t flinch at the assumption, smiling back at her.

“Oh,” your voice brightens with a laugh of your own and bowing in your seat slightly, “Thank you so much for offering.”

She brings out a few from her own bag and reaches out over the seats, “Here.”

“Thank you again,” Jungkook says and she looks at you expectantly, practically requesting you to wipe off his mouth yourself. You jump at the realization and clear your throat with whatever protest that bubbled from within, and start with stiff fingers. You’ve already stuffed pieces of muffin in his mouth, what harm would it be to clean up the mess you’ve made? Except it’s completely different, not very easy doing the simple action with a bright-eyed old woman who seems very entertained by the aspect of it, all life returning to them when the tissue rubs at his bottom lip.

“Daddy,” Yeona taps. “Want off.”

His gentle grip on her tummy loosens and allows her to slide off of his legs to approach the woman. Your daughter gently waves and let’s her smile speak for itself, so easy to sway the woman when she was so used to doing this to every other person she meets daily.

“Hi there.” The woman waves back and bends her back more forward to reach Yeona’s level. “Where are you off to today?”

“Jeju!” She exclaims, and then boasts proudly, “It’s my birthday.”

The woman eggs her giddiness on by clapping gently, “Oh wow. What a wonderful place to celebrate your birthday!”

“Yes ma’am,” she agrees sweetly, hands clasped behind her back. “I told my Mommy and Daddy to bring me there and they said yes! We even rode all together here!”

The woman spares you an odd look at the figures Yeona points at, and you both refrain meeting her eyes that read about obviously riding together, you were married with a kid after all.

At least, to her eyes you were.

Unfortunately, the both of you lacked the guts to tell her the truth, and that this was just another day to simply tolerate each other more than you already do during the week.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The woman hums. “Your parents must love you a lot then. They look good together, too.”

It all seems too much, as if she was mocking you, and you immediately grow antsy at her nosy stare.

Luckily, after Yeona had her fair share in her frankly short conversation with the older woman, she left all of you alone for the rest of the ride.

“That was—” Jungkook starts.

“—Definitely new,” you finish.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to the assumptions of us still being together. It’s hard not to just blatantly say no so that they could get off of our backs for once.”

Your voice lowers a bit, just to make sure she can’t hear you from her corner-seat. “But we also have to understand their point,” you reason, “When people see both of us with a daughter, it’s easier to assume that we’re together.”

His head leans on the metal rod behind him, still listening with his eyes closed.

“Besides, I don’t really mind.”

His head shoots back into position and he stares with widened eyes. “Y-You don’t?”

Shrugging, your head shakes. “It’s better this way. I’d rather just go along with it than explain exactly why we’re separated, let them into something they have no business in being in.”

“Right,” he drags it. “Exactly,” and he says it more for himself to grip on, because fucking obviously. Not for any other reason but for convenience. Always for the best, and he was fine with it. Perfectly keen.

His head turns towards the water, and he squints, legs bouncing obnoxiously, Yeona whines. It’s only then you realize he’s decked out in all black, as usual, with beads of sweat running off his temple and onto his neck. It’s only worse when he’s seated exactly right under the sun, where the roof fails to give him any shade.

“You idiot,” you suddenly call and his brows furrow, whipping around to find you in a state of absolute worry, searching through your bag. “Out of all days, when we’d be outside, you’re wearing everything you’re not supposed to.”

His eyes widen and he stares down at his attire, sizzling back down into realization when he finally realizes the problem. “I’m fine,” he passes off cooly. “Yeona wanted the seat nearest to the water, and I figured you wouldn’t want to be under the sun this long.”

Before he can even come out with an argument, you’re already moving forward and grabbing Yeona off of his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” you pat on his thigh, silently coaxing him to scoot. “We’ll trade spots. You can’t be under the sun like this.”

“_____..”

Your lips purse and stray down into a pout, and his heart falters, his argument pushed down his throat until he swallows it away. “Jungkook, I’m worried. I don’t even think you put on sunscreen today either.”

He’s fully aware how irked you get when he doesn’t follow the skincare regimen you set up for him. It’s especially the distress you hold in your eyes and lips when he forgoes the most important step of it all: suncare.

“Shit doesn’t even work,” he exasperates, and your eyes roll back.

“Say that to me when you’re fifty and covered with sun spots you’ll never be able to erase because you never wanted to listen to me.”

His bite comes without even a second thought, falling back into the banter he secretly misses, when it was comfortable to joke around you, tease you to no end, and drive you up the wall. “You’ll still like me that way, right?” He’s teasing now, and it’s clear when he raises his brows in expectancy, lighthearted and jokeful.

To your embarrassment, your cheeks tint pink and you don’t have enough pride to return his stare. The only thing you can really do is stammer severely and point at your purse. “J-Just put some on and leave me alone.”

He hands you a hearty and genuine laugh and you only try your best to ignore it, lips curving the same until you force them to stop from going any higher.

“Holy shit,” you gape. “It’s huge.”

“They’re loaded.”

“I-I can’t go in this, Jungkook.”

“You couldn’t have told me this before we went on a whole road trip and had me prepay tickets for a ferry ride here?”

You hit his arm. “Jungkook, I’m serious.”

He laughs. “Why exactly can’t you? It’s just a beach house.”

“This is too big for a six year old! A few candles from the fucking mall is never going to pay off the fact they are letting us have it for the weekend.”

“With their advision,” he reminds. Yeona stirs in her sleep from the backseat and Jungkook pins you a look. “Can we get out now?”

You hesitate. “How are you okay without thinking about being possibly indebted to Seokjin and Namjoon? First, they put out a car for us to drive here when we arrived, and now we’re staying in this? We’re being pampered.”

“Because I’ve been leeching off of Seokjin since I was a teenager, _____,” he states, nimbly remembering when he would depend on a few meals paid from him and even to now - being roommates with the older man. “He’s fine with it. He offered first, after all. We’re just following orders,” he defends so easily.

Reluctantly, you climb out of the car, crossed arms from your chest, heading towards the back to take out your daughter from her carseat. With a soft nudge and a kiss to her cheek, her eyes shot back open with the realization that this was the last stop, that she was finally here. “M-Mommy, look!”

“I know,” you coo, “I was just as shocked as you are now.”

She moves quickly, already releasing the buckle and sliding down to the car floor. She still requests to be picked up like a princess when her arms span out for you, and of course, you oblige.

“Jungkook,” you call. “Are you getting the bags?”

The trunk shuts, keys jingling in his hand, “Already on it.”

When you reach the porch, Yeona eagerly leans towards the right of the door to ring the bell.

It only takes three seconds for Kim Seokjin to open it with a wide smile. “Welcome!”

Yeona squeals, legs kicking all over the place and you finally set her down for her to enter first. Not before giving her uncle’s leg a big squeeze of her own, “Thank you, Uncle Jinnie! Love it so much!”

He chuckles, smoothing down her hair, “Anything for the birthday girl! You haven’t even taken a look around yet, sweetheart. Go find Uncle Joon and he’ll show you everything.”

“Okay!” Her form is only a blur when she rushes out.

He smiles. “You guys are on time,” and he says it like it’s a complete surprise.

A brow arches. “When are we not?”

“New years,” he recalls. “You both made it five minutes late after the countdown.”

Jungkook slips behind you to set the bags down. “That’s not fair.”

You agree. “Yeona was two years old that year. She had a hard time handling the fireworks. I had to coax her to sleep through the phone that night.”

His head tilts in reason, “Fair.”

Jungkook nudges you. “Where do you want these?”

You shrug, turning to Seokjin. “Depends where you want us, Jin.”

“It’s up to you guys. Taehyung and Jimin already took two of the guest rooms. There’s only three more.”

“Kiumin is sleeping over, so they can have one room,” you calculate. “And Hyejin’s coming with Kiumin, so we can split.”

The older man stares wide-eyed at his roommate. Jungkook stares back with the same expression, so Seokjin asks for him, “Split?”

You’re too busy with some of the messages on your phone regarding birthday wishes to your daughter, vaguely returning them with typed out thank you’s and kissy faces. “Yeah.”

“Does that mean you and—“

You send him an odd stare before turning around and grabbing onto your own bags, disregarding Jungkook’s. “Of course not—? I’m rooming with Hyejin and Jungkook can have the extra room to himself.”

“.. Right.”

“Is it this way?” You ask without a clue to the men behind you.

“Uh, yeah! Let me help you,” Seokjin rushes.

Jungkook is left at the doorway, all alone and with his own bags and a fuming heart that drags as if the slim possibility of what would have happened was anything more to go by.

It’s nighttime now.

You’ve directed Hyejin to your room and have let her unpack while you watched over Yeona and her little boy.

Your knees bend into a crouch, the familiar smell of chlorine filling your senses when you near the water.

Jungkook's hair flicks back when his fingers push through them and the blue rays of the water reflect against his chest. His collarbones glisten against the minimal light the night provides, making it harder to strictly set your eyes forward and stray away from anything that wasn’t his own.

“You couldn’t have waited a second for everyone to settle in before dipping into the pool?”

He pouts. “Why?”

Head tilting, you pin him a stare and direct your eyesight towards the pink floatie in the corner, swaying calmly. “Because Yeona’s been eyeing that giant flamingo and now she’s asking to hop in with you.”

“Let her in, then. Namjoon’s already here.”

Your head turns to the outdoor bar and they pin the figure reading a book with amusement when he sends off a small wave.

“But then Kiumin..”

Hyejin walks in with a relaxed sigh at the sight in front of her when she passes through the widened double-doors. “Too bad it’s nighttime. I could’ve been tanning.”

“Hyejin!” You gawk at her bikini. “You’re going in too?”

She nods in an obvious answer. “Kiumin’s been begging me to let him jump in since we’ve gotten here, and with a view like this — how could I say no?”

Jungkook points. “See? Our friend is obviously taking the advantage of being here.”

“We are way far from friends, Jeon,” she practically snarls back. “It’s almost insulting when you say it like that.”

“Hyejin,” you warn, and turn back to the man standing in the waist-deep side of the pool now.

Ignoring your friend’s hatred fueled statements, he coaxes. “Come on,” he lulls. “Taehyung and Jimin are already planning to jump in too.”

Your head shakes in decline, “I can’t. I didn’t even pack a swimsuit, only Yeona’s.”

“I have one laying out for you in the room,” Hyejin pitches and your eyes widen significantly. “It’s the one I��ve been meaning to give you.”

“Perfect!” Seokjin claps by the doors, tray full of glasses and the two children following right behind him. “We can start having a pool party!” They immediately cheer and your mind starts to reel in defeat.

You rub your arms shyly, “I-I’m fine. I don’t really feel like swimming right now..”

Hyejin snorts. “Don’t even lie. We used to be obsessed with the pool when we were kids. We can do it again for old times’ sake! Show our kids where they got it from.”

“Literally, what does that have to do with anything in wanting to swim? Aren’t kids naturally drawn to the pool, because it’s a pool?” You grit.

“I’m just saying to take the chance and relax,” she stresses and her arms extend, waving around carelessly. “We’re here!”

“You’re going to miss out if you don’t get in,” Jungkook bets, and he knows how much you despise being the outsider while everyone had their share of fun. You loathed the plain idea of it. “Just put the bikini on and stop being a pussy.”

“J-Jungkook!”

Childish. Absolutely childish.

You hear footsteps approaching right behind you, the vow reaching your ears. “I’ll only jump in if we do it together.”

Taehyung’s head shakes side to side, eyes narrowing at the shorter man with apprehension. “You pull back every fucking time we do it. I won’t fall for it again.”

Jungkook’s throat clears at the two and he orders his friends, “Tell _____ to get in the pool.”

Taehyung’s brow furrows, “She doesn’t want to? It’s the pool—and we’re in Jeju!”

You stubbornly shake your head. “Don’t care.”

Jimin has a teasing glint in his eye, something you dislike a lot when it’s crystal clear he has something stirring up in his sick head of his, especially since Taehyung had turned down the proposal of his playful and expectant joke.

“We can—grab her and push her in?” He suggests.

“That’s elementary school shit, Jimin,” you warn. “Get away from me.”

He’s inching closer and you’re nervously sputtering for Jungkook, helplessly calling for him to get his friend from throwing you in the water so carelessly.

Luckily, a small hand grapples onto you and it’s Yeona with eager feet who stops Jimin in his tracks. “Mommy, t-the pink birdie!”

You have a staring contest with it, the one side of the floating flamingo’s eye stares back at you and you exhale a puff before finally standing back up. “Alright, come on. Let’s get dressed.”

The white bikini on you terrifies you enough to cross your arms over yourself and skirt around the edge of the pool until you reach the chairs where Hyejin sits.

No one’s noticed yet. Not when Jungkook and the rest were already in the pool, putting on the floaties for the children who sat on the pathed ledges made of stone. At some point, you can see both of Jungkook’s eyes completely wiped out and squeezed shut when Yeona excitedly flaps her arms around the water, hyper to get in.

“Hyejin,” you hiss out, finally reaching your friend.

She hums with furrowed brows, too distracted in trying to connect her phone to the bluetooth speaker.

“Why in the world would you give me something like this. I-It’s too much,” you whimper out weakly.

Her eyes roll back. “It’s a bikini, _____. Remember those? I bet you look great—“ She screeches, chin dropping, hands hovering over her mouth. You flinch, just as shocked as she was, shushing her to shut up before anyone even has the chance in blinking your way.

“Holy shit.”

Eyes squeezing shut, you shy in on yourself, carefully taking the wooden pool-chair beside her. “Please, shut up.”

Her arms raise, “I haven’t said anything—yet.”

You scowl. “You seriously couldn’t have given me any other fucking set? Like a wetsuit? This is too weird for me.”

She cackles. “Relax,” she attempts to ease. “Why are you so freaked out? It’s just a swimsuit.”

Your head knocks back against the wood and you sigh tiredly. “It’s been way too long since I’ve worn something like this. Something not.. Mom-ish.”

“And why not? This literally proves how much of a Milf you really are!” She stresses.

You shrug shyly. “I haven’t had much of a reason to.”

“Well, I’m begging you to. Seriously, _____,” she reassures.

You quietly break into a laugh, smacking at her arm harshly.

“Where’s mommy?” You hear Jungkook suddenly ask, and you think you’re a hundred percent fucked.

Yeona’s voice is muffled against your ex-husband’s chest, incoherently explaining, “Mommy was already running away when we got outside.”

“Running away?”

“Yeah! Kind’ve like a ninja. She was there and then—poof!”

You don’t even announce your bathroom break to Hyejin, standing up and rushing over towards the doors that were close yet so far away.

It would only be a second before you would reach it, and straight into changing back to the sundress that was always deemed as safe.

Part of you wishes that you could parade around with no care, being so long since you’ve gone out in something like this. But another part that tears you completely, thinks about Kim Seol and how different she is compared to you.

With stark personalities and looks, you most likely would have never even thought about comparing you from her. But now that Jungkook was going out with her, everything’s changed, and your mind reels into thinking how in the world he had the chance of going to someone else completely different from you, and if he even liked you in the first place, relationship and marriage long forgotten, not even being considered in this context.

You weren’t exactly sure how long this feeling would last, and maybe it wouldn’t, sticking to all of the new relationships he would continue to open up now that he was available.

Sure, he’s seen you plenty of times in bed and in the shower from the past years of being together. But this is now and before he had anything younger, more vibrant.

This was possibly the only thing you could take away from him. Seeing anything physical to compare you with another was the only thing you truly, absolutely wished for.

You accidentally collide against something. Hard and wide.

And when you eventually look up, you’re relieved to only find Namjoon with a bag of chips in hand.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, Joon. Sorry for—running?”

He chuckles, pointing back to his boyfriend back inside of the house. “Save it for the lifeguard, but he’s off-duty right now mixing margaritas for everyone.”

You attempt to let out the same energy of a laugh as his, but it all turns dry and brittle, making him halt and inspect. “You okay, _____?”

“O-Of course I am.”

A few murmurs are made at the back of your figure until a small voice calls out, “Mommy! Over here!”

Letting out a small gasp, you reluctantly turn around, weakly mustering a smile and avoiding the eyes that officially lay on you when he notices.

“Hi, baby.”

“Mommy!” She splashes. “Swim with me and daddy!”

“U-Uh..”

“Looks like your daughter wants you to get in the pool.”

Turning back to Namjoon, you stiffly nod, “Yeah.”

“If you’re worried about the temperature, don’t worry. It’s heated.”

Far from your true concern, you manage to give him a thumbs-up and head back to the very place you’ve been trying to escape.

“I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Let me go get Aunt Hyejin first.” It’s truly for your sake more than for hers, a cry for help in a situation you could have easily avoided if you had just never put the bikini on. “I hate this,” you managed to mutter against your breath when you finally reached her. “I’m never listening to you ever again.”

She yelps when you rip the towel away from her, tugging tightly at her arm, urging her to get up. “Hey!” She pouts.

“Come on,” you order. “Yeona wants to swim and I am not doing this alone.”

She sits up and observes, quietly biting on a sly chuckle when she notices.

“What now?”

“Nothing,” she waves off. “It’s just—your ex is making googly eyes right now.”

You groan, stomping impatiently. “Hyejin, stop lying and get up.”

“I’m not lying,” she pleads. “I swear — I’m looking at him right now!”

“I don’t care,” you deadpan.

When she finally stands, you put a death-grip on her arm and timidly walk towards the pool.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” you sheepishly say, releasing a bit.

It’s a pleasant feeling when the warm water wets the bottom surface of your feet, and your shoulders subconsciously relax when your waist-deep.

Hyejin coos at her little boy, proud of her son when she watches Jimin help, something more in her eyes that go starry at the man who leads him through the water.

“Thanks, Hyejin,” you whisper.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she pats softly at your arm. “I know how nervous you are and all. Just don’t, okay? You’ll be fine.”

You weakly smile at her again before finally sending her off.

When she moves out of your view and directly towards Jimin and her son, you find Yeona eagerly waiting for you.

Taehyung has his eyes blown at the sight of you, whistling with your name trapped between his lips, which exactly makes you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. Of course, he’s teasing, the natural flirt in him most likely powering over him.

Fortunately, you’re saved when he gets whacked with a strong push of water, Jungkook’s doing. You don’t notice it when your daughter cutely dog-paddles towards you.

All is forgotten, smile setting on your lips.

“Mommy! Stay right there, okay? I’ll swim to you.”

“Oh,” you perk, arms already rising beneath the water. With the long distance, you subtly move forward when her legs kick to make it easier on her, and within a few seconds, she’s splashing against your arms with a squeal.

You giggle. “Are you having fun?”

“So much, mommy!” She exclaims. “Daddy threw me up high when I wanted a splash.”

You gasp with a smile, nerves diminishing. “Really? I wish I was there to see it.”

“Are you too cold?” A voice asks from behind her and you hesitantly face Jungkook, always polite and concerned for your well-being, except there was definitely something else in his eyes you weren’t able to pinpoint and didn’t bother to anyway, now that you were in the water.

You stiffly smile and shake your head. “I’m fine. The water feels really nice.”

He nods. “T-That’s good.”

God, he feels like it’s high school all over again, having no utter idea in starting a conversation with a girl, wanting to, but not even knowing exactly how.

Still, he can’t stop the burning stare, even when your attention zeroes back in on Yeona.

The nice music sets a comforting nuance around the place, hearing splashes coming from everywhere, specifically when Seokjin’s yelling resonates from the chairs when Taehyung targets him with a cheeky grin.

“The slices of watermelon are here, you dick!” He scowls.

Jimin butts in with a scold to the older man, telling him to censor his words around the children.

Jungkook doesn’t have time to hear the continued argument when he’s hit with an expectant splash of water of his own.

He doesn’t even need to ask a second later when he hears the both of you giggling. Wiping away the drops on his face and in his eyes, he brushes strands of hair back to get a good look at the satisfied looks on both of your faces. He approaches slowly.

Your head shakes, already aware of what Jungkook was doing — getting his revenge.

“I-It was Yeonie’s idea!”

She only giggles louder, knowing fully well she would easily be the untouched one out of this.

“Jungkook, I swear to god if you do anything to me-“

Your warning goes straight out when strong arms turn you around to face your daughter. Fully wrapping them around your form for a slim chance of being able to escape, you hear a soft chuckle against your ear.

“I think it’d be fun to splash mommy, huh?” He teases and you tense.

“Jungkook—!”

“Yeah, let’s do it!” She pumps a tiny fist from out of the water.

“Sweetheart, no! Listen to me-“

Your nose scrunches, hair whipping with you to cover your face when she splashes. Jungkook helps along the way by releasing an arm and moving some of the water forward against you to hit you square in the face. His wave comes stronger and does an excellent job at soaking you completely.

You gasp, wiping some of the water away from your face. “Okay, please, I’m sorry,” you whine, gripping his wrists softly, eyes squeezed shut.

He falters at the frail sight of you, easily making you his biggest weakness.

“It’s okay, mommy,” Yeona speaks up first. “I forgive you.”

“Hey!” You scoff with a pout. “It wasn’t even my idea.”

Her eyes crease and she giggles loudly.

“_____!” Hyejin suddenly calls, and your chin tilts up to find your best friend. “Kiumin wants to play with the birthday girl.”

Yeona eagerly looks up at you and you simply nod with a smile, letting her small legs kick and float over to her best friend.

“Ah,” you realize, now being all alone. “I think I should go now.”

Still, with his arms wrapped around you, he leans closer, “What, why?” And it’s needy, wanting to pull you closer than what he already has. “Can’t you stay?”

“Yeona’s all the way over there and we’re..” Exes with barely anything to talk about or to get along in general. It wasn’t in the book you’ve written out for yourself and probably never will be. “I-I have to get her cake ready. Your mom worked really hard on it.”

“I’ll help you put the candles on it,” he quickly offers. “Just.. Just stay here with me for a while.”

A brow raises and you turn in his arms. “And do what?”

He feigns in thinking about it, sharp jaw tilting for you to settle your eyes on.

Seokjin interrupts with a call of his name and a raised brow at the sight.

You clear your tight throat and gulp when he hands Jungkook a towel. “Your phone is ringing,” and then carefully gives it to him over the water.

You observe him as he answers. “Hello?”

A female voice is heard on the other end and you sense the way he pulls back a bit, that it was Seol. Her muffled voice is enough to push you back into reality and to what exactly you were doing before the call.

“Ah, hey..” He awkwardly greets, nodding to whatever she was saying. Your head turns away when his eyes land on yours and you feign interest at the potted plant set right next to the door that led inside. “I’m at the house now with.. Everyone else.”

He chokes up a bit when she says another thing, and you don’t understand until he returns the words.

“I—I miss you too.”

Swallowing harshly, your expression hardens, and you begin to pull back.

“I’ll call you later tonight, alright?” He assures, almost in a rush. Your ears catch some of her words, not really interested in any of the conversation anyway, wanting to create a distance between you and Jungkook before anything else would happen, before you would hear something else you wouldn’t want to be hearing at all.

Finally hanging up, he takes a slow breath in and sets the phone at the side of the pool.

You finally pull away from him completely.

“_____.”

You give a curt smile. “Yeah?”

His head shakes. “Nothing. It’s just.. Are you okay?”

You nod, slightly with bewildering eyes, asking, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then, you laugh softly. “We’re not married anymore, Jungkook.” He stiffens, jaw ticking and eyes shifting to catch your flat expression. “And from what I clearly remember — you’re seeing someone else.” You point towards the phone laying carelessly on top of the stone.

For once, you feel bad for the poor girl who’s probably wondering when his goodnight text from him would be.

You keep your eyes on his hands that sink and submerge into the water, and back to his sides.

“Just because it’s our daughter's birthday does not entail us playing family again,” you mumble. “You took that all away from me two years ago, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say anything, shamefully looking down at the waves in the pool caused by Yeona a few feet away. A reminder that was given way too late.

You nod again, turning slowly around. “I’m going to go get the cake ready. I’ll ask Hyejin to help.”

With the distance you’ve given him, he finally looks up and finds a disapproving look being given by his own roommate, who had seen and observed every single second of the two of you together since being in the pool.

He understood exactly why.

Everybody eventually makes their way out of the pool and back into the house to hang out at.

The same subtle music speakers through the house, the kids being fully entertained by the large television in the living room, and the inside of the house being overall in a mood and feeling that definitely differs from your own thoughts that constantly circle around your head.

Whatever Jungkook was getting at in the pool, definitely wasn’t sitting with you right. And frankly, everything leading up to it too.

The process of the divorce was already stripping and tiring enough, finalizing the documents and who would get exactly what was already overwhelming enough, but to throw all of that away and not even consider it when you’re wrapped in the arms you were so accustomed to was entirely stressful.

It didn’t make sense. It never did when it came to him.

“Yeonie, are you getting sleepy already?” You ask across the room from the kitchen as you watch your little girl yawn and squirm on top of the fluffy carpet she lays on.

Her head stubbornly shakes with a pout set on her lips.

Glancing at the clock sat beside her, it was only eight, but judging from the exertion taken place at the pool, Yeona must have been exhausted.

Your feet move to where she lays lazily, crouching down and moving her towards your lap, you murmur, “Stay awake for me, baby. You haven’t even blown the candles or opened your presents yet.”

She yawns in protest and nuzzles her nose further into your neck. “Not even a nap?”

Chuckling softly, probably making it worse for her when your fingers trace against her back, you repeat, “Not even a nap.” Saying it exactly knowing what that would entail, Yeona misinterpreting what a nap and sleep was more often than not.

Jungkook comes back with damp hair and sweats, black socks shuffling through the floor until they reach you.

“Hey,” you greet, looking down at the sleepy-head in your arms. “She’s tired.”

He hums, crouching down with an endeared smile. “I can see.”

“I swear,” you promise to Yeona, patting her back. “Dinner is almost done and then you can go to sleep, alright?” Your eyes search for Jungkook’s and you request, “Keep her awake while I get everything ready?”

His arms stretch and extend out, and you pass off the small body in your arms.

His lips instinctively purse to a gentle shush and rocks her gently when he feels her squirm.

You glare. “I said keep her awake, not encourage her to count the sheep.”

He winces. “This is new! Usually I’m doing the exact opposite.” He lifts her head, and begins his futile attempts in keeping her eyes open. “Alright, sweetheart. What mommy says, it always goes, so you’re going to have to help me out here, okay?”

She mumbles incoherently.

“Come on,” he nudges, “Up.”

“Play that dancing game she likes,” you suggest.

Taehyung from the couch, perks at that. “God, I love that game,” inputting himself in the conversation and inviting himself a second later, “Please count me in.”

“You think they have any games like that for kids?” He specifies with a swift look at his friend and Taehyung sends a throw pillow his way.

Seokjin quickly dissipates it with a scold of how much the pillows cost and which country they were exactly from.

You eye the bar full of wires and game controllers, easily making the assumption quickly, “With the eight different consoles I’m staring at, they must.”

His head dips down. “How does that sound, baby? You want to dance?”

Yeona’s completely untouchable when she’s grumpy, so it doesn’t come to a surprise when her arms reels back to try to smack her father away from talking to her anymore.

Luckily, he dodges it.

But as her eyes open wider and catches an eyeful of Jungkook dancing along with Kiumin and Taehyung twenty minutes later, she ends up joining them in the end, the same jittery moves she first walked in with.

You pull Hyejin out of her light conversation with Jimin, opting to question her tinted cheeks for later when it would be time to head to bed.

Of course, Hyejin will want to pry whenever and wherever, deeming it acceptable when it’s noisy enough with the conversations and laughs airing through it. “Want to talk about it?” Hyejin, located beside you who unwraps the carefully decorated box, asks carefully.

You feign cluelessness to the subject. “Not sure about what.”

She pins you a stare. “Come on. I saw what happened. Everybody did.”

Shrugging, you grab the candles, sticking them carefully, three on top and three at the bottom. You would’ve gotten the actual number six, but Jungkook had argued that it would be more fun for your daughter to blow as many candles as she can, the singular candle not being enough for a kid’s satisfaction.

“I don’t know,” you start unsurely. “It’s just weird, is all. It’s always hot and cold when I’m with him — having weird moments happen every so often and reminding him where the line starts and ends, and then acting perfectly poised when Yeona’s there.”

Her back hits the counter as she leans, arms crossed and head shaking. “This needs to stop, _____,” she says honestly. “He can’t keep going back and forth like this, completely forgetting everything else that happened — you’re broken up for a reason.”

“Forget it,” you dismiss with a bite to your lip. “It’s not like I stopped him on time. For a second, I forgot about everything too.”

She’s visibly stumped, stern expression faltering and letting the silence bloom, other than the outdated pop music and stomping in the background.

“_____..”

“I’m not going to sit here and blame him for every little thing that I could have controlled myself if I just stayed in my own lane,” distressed hands and fingers pull against your hair and you sigh out, eyes closing shut and feet swaying a little. The throbbing in your head continues and pulls at you venomously, like it couldn’t get enough from the first time.

Hyejin’s eyes widen and she rushes over to you in full concern. “Babe, are you okay?”

You nod, even if your furrowed brows clearly show the opposite. “Of course,” you pass off, eyes darting to the same place they’ve been at all night.

He’s still dancing and smiling.

“He’s not my husband anymore.”

And you say it again, wanting it to stick inside of your head until it fully processes, that it’s your fault just as much as his, for playing against the papers and agreements you’ve spent so many nights and days over. A constant reminder for the rest of your life, and not the other. Not the one that consists of vows and promises. Never that one anymore.

You muster a quick smile, turning to her gaping mouth who yearns to reach out, but you refuse it when you turn the corner, beginning to set everything up at the main table.

“Is the birthday girl ready?” Your voice drags, upbeat lilt feigning the pounding in your head.

High pitched squeals resound from the main room and their small feet bounce against the hardwood.

Jungkook follows suit.

“Me!” Yeona calls excitedly, “It’s me, Mommy!”

“Woah,” Kiumin gapes. “You’re cake is awesome, Yeonie!”

She giggles and hops on her tippy-toes to get a peek, “Thanks! My grandma made it.”

“Oh,” Kiumin nods. “She’s awesome.”

You chuckle softly at the kids, smiling down at the cute cake. You go to pull out your phone for pictures and videos to make sure she would see her work being fully appreciated.

Jungkook hoists Yeona up on the chair, her lifted cheeks and glittering eyes proving her excitement when she sees the candles already lit.

“Has it already been six years, already?” Seokjin asks in disbelief, plates and forks already in his hand to set down on the table.

You nod, pouting and squishing one of her cheeks, “Already a big girl.”

Yeona hums, “Basically a grown-up now!”

Hyejin bursts in laughter, everybody following right behind.

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, arms circling around her softly, placing a kiss on the top of her head. Fondly staring down at his rapidly growing little girl, the same feeling you hold to your chest. “Don’t need to rub it into our faces, miss.”

Your camera clicks on its own, a fond smile subconsciously forming.

“Are we ready to sing?” Namjoon timidly asks. You turn to find him weary at the sight on the wax that begins to drip rapidly. “It’s just—the candles are starting to melt.”

You laugh, nodding. “Alright, let’s sing.”

It starts off normal, a little bit muted, until Kiumin bursts into a full performance for his best friend. Until Seokjin follows along and throws in an impromptu dance routine. Her father and the others join in right after, impressed at how eerily good it actually looked, almost looking rehearsed. But then you familiarize yourself with the sharp moves, the hands and arms showcasing that it was the corny traffic dance Seokjin taught them all a few years back on one drunk night.

Until eventually everybody does their best in throwing Yeona in a fit of giggles.

You join her side and guide her into making a wish, clamping her hands shut and scrunching her eyes closed, until the commotion quiets and she opens her eyes with hopefulness written all over it.

Kiumin is the first to question through the silence. “What’d you wish for, Yeonie?”

She simply smiles, glancing at you from her side, and then moving her gaze straight to Jungkook.

She subtly shakes her head, voice so soft, almost completely blurred into a whisper, “If I tell you, it’ll never come true.”

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

hi, i’m back omg. i had to take some time away bc midway of finishing this up, literally a few paragraphs away, i ended up having my mental health spiral down. but now, i’m better and managed to finish this part.

also please tell me ur thoughts! i crave validation n use ur feedback as my fuel towards anything i write. :]

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

#mine #bts #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #full stop

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hxneyandespressx · 3 years

Text

since we’re alone, you can show me your heart

summary: what happens when derek gets a nightmare? the only one who can calm him down is his pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x derek morgan (moreid)

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: mentions of gun and shooting

a/n: set after criminal minds season 11 episode 11 entropy

☆。*。☆。

Spencer ran frantically around his dark and messy apartment, picking up the case files and Chinese takeout boxes that had piled up on his antique coffee table. Few peanut oil stains stuck onto the wooden top. The anxious man took the nearest napkin, hoping that it was clean, and tried his best to wipe off the oil stains. Seeing that they wouldn’t come off, Spencer exasperatedly dropped the napkin onto the table and rushed over to his kitchen, grabbing the necessary cleaning supplies. He got his bottle of white vinegar and water, a pair of yellow rubber gloves, and an old rag underneath the kitchen sink.

By the time Spencer was done, every room in his apartment was clean to his standard. Not a book out of place, no dust lingering in the air. Spencer felt both scared and excited about having his co-workers come over to his place. He never had them over until today. He felt scared if a game, like truth or dare, made him confess his true feelings about his boyfriend.

Derek and Spencer had worked with each other for a long time. As the years went by, experiencing the highs and lows of being FBI agents together, the two of them felt their hearts yearn for each other, but neither of them acted upon it. They were scared of the possibility of rejection, tarnishing their friendship. It was not until Derek decided to break the ice and asked out Spencer. The young man was delighted to have his crush ask him out. It was the one thing that went right in his life.

Three months in and either of them hasn’t said “I love you” yet. Either of them was scared to frighten off the other. Saying “I love you” was a big commitment. They were trying to take things slow, not to rush each other, even though they had known each other for a long time.

The gang was heading over to Spencer’s for a little sleepover to relax as they hadn’t received any new cases within the past 2 weeks. It was nice to have a break from all the traveling and dealing with unsubs; however, it does get boring doing paperwork and in-office consultations for hours.

Spencer’s phone pinged multiple times and a bunch of text notifications came.

Hotch: Sorry, can’t make it. I couldn’t find a babysitter for Jack and Jessica is busy at work tonight. Maybe next time.

Tara: going out on the town with the ladies!

Penelope: sorry spencer but jj tara and i are having a ladies night :(

JJ: sorry spence! perhaps next time!

Rossi: Sorry kid. Forgot to tell you that I’m driving up to Montauk to visit a buddy of mine.

Spencer sighed and felt defeated. Everyone bailed on him at the last minute. Everyone except for Derek. That was fine with Spencer, as this could be a date night for them. Just then, the doorbell rang, indicating someone had arrived. Having a small smile on his face, Spencer scurried to the front door and opened it. It revealed one handsome Derek Morgan, who was holding a large pizza in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“I saw in the group chat that everyone else bailed on this.” Derek said.

“Yeah but this could be a date night for us.” Spencer smiled at his little proposition. Derek smiled, showing off his brilliant pearly whites, as he entered the apartment.

The couple spent their night-in watching movies, eating pizza, and Spencer going off tangents on his passions. Whenever Spencer starts to rant about one of his passions, Derek just stared at his little genius and smiled at how happy his boyfriend was. And that continued all night long, Derek listening to Spencer talk about 19th-century British literature, coupled with watching random movies of various genres.

Nearing 1 am, the couple laid on the couch, with Spencer in Derek’s arms. The tv was playing Julie & Julia in the background. Spencer was half asleep and noticed that Derek was sleeping already. He gently wiggled out of Derek’s arms and stood up from the couch, scratching his scalp and messing up his already messy curly hair.

“Hey. Let’s go to bed.” Spencer softly said, patting his boyfriend’s shoulder. Derek woke up, feeling groggy. Spencer led the way to his room, holding Derek’s hand. They both flopped onto the bed and Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist. They were used to sharing a room together, even a bed due to mistakes occurring at the hotels they stayed at when they were on cases. Sleep washed over them as the golden dust of the Sandman worked its magic.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Standing across from Derek were Spencer and Cat Adams. The hitwoman had a gun pointed at one scared Spencer Reid. Internally, Derek was screaming. On the outside, he kept his cool and calm composure.

“Morgan, get out.” Spencer demanded.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek said, his voice shaking a little.

“Hm… I guess we’re back where we started. You and me with a gun.” Cat said without a care in the world, keeping the gun aimed at Spencer.

“Reid, it’s time.”

“No.”

“We don’t have a choice. We have to do it,” Derek said. Spencer kept shaking his head no. “We found your father.” the unsub stood there in shock for a few seconds, before rage set inside of her.

“You’re lying. I don’t like men who lie. You men are all the same.” Cat said as she gauged the trigger on her gun. She shot Spencer in the head and without hesitation, Derek started to shoot at the unsub. Derek ran over to Spencer and held his dying love in his arms. He tried to keep him alive until the paramedics came. The last words Derek said was “I love you” before his boy wonder went limp.

Derek woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He heard himself breathing heavily and felt anxious from the nightmare he just had. The frightened man groggily rubbed his eyes to get rid of the Sandman’s dust. Leaning his back against the headboard, Derek stared at the wall across from him, concentrating his eyes on one spot. He hoped that this technique would help him fall back asleep. Alas, he was shaken up from the nightmare.

The dazed man anxiously searched for his phone, wondering how much time has passed. Fumbling through the grey sheets and trying not to wake up Spencer, Derek found his phone, turning on the touchscreen, the blue screen lit up brightly. 3:20 am. Derek took a deep breath and sighed, leaning his head back onto the headboard and looked over to see his baby-faced boyfriend fast asleep. A soft smile appeared on Derek’s face, reminding him of his reality: Spencer being his angel.

Feeling restless, Derek pushed the comforter off of himself and quietly got off of the bed. He opened the bedroom door and went to the bathroom that was down the hall. His hands turned on the faucet and cupped together to gather the running water. Derek splashed cold water onto his face, making him more alert and awake. His eyes caught the sight of his face in the mirror. Smile lines decorated his face, which contrasted the dark circles forming underneath his eyes. Derek sighed and made his way towards the kitchen.

Derek has come over to Spencer’s place many times before, so much so he knows the way around like the back of his hand. With ease, his muscular hand grabbed a tall glass, with an accompanying coaster, in one of the cabinets above. He filled the glass with water from the faucet below. Loud gulps could be heard as Derek drank the water, cool and fresh like he had found an oasis. Just as Derek gently placed the glass on the coaster, his ears caught the shuffling feet of a tired Spencer.

“Derek?” Spencer tiredly said. “What are you doing up?”

“Just needed some water, that is all.” Derek said his half truth-half lie. The young man shrugged and went towards the refrigerator.

Unknowingly, Derek started to tap his fingers against the dark grey laminate countertop. Spencer caught the sound with his ears and turned to face his boyfriend.

“Derek? Are you okay?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Because you’re tapping your fingers across the countertop.” Spencer pointed out. When the tired genius mentioned the action, Derek immediately stopped, his eyes glancing at Spencer.

“We’re profilers, Derek. You can’t hide anything from me.” Spencer said, feeling concerned for his best friend. The mousy-haired man felt like a hypocrite after saying that to Derek. During the many years he worked with the handsome man in front of him, Spencer developed a crush on him. At first, it was just a silly little infatuation, but as time passed, it changed to being a crush. The young man was able to hide it well. That was until Derek reciprocated his feelings. That same crush turned into Spencer dating Derek. In these past few months, Spencer wanted to tell his angel of a boyfriend that he loved him, but he was scared that Derek would run away from him, just like everyone else in his life.

“Ha– you’re right, pretty Ricky,” Derek said in defeat, hanging his head low. Spencer came up behind Derek slowly, hesitant to show some affection to his probably scared boyfriend. He mustered up his own fears and gave Derek a hug from behind, and felt his boyfriend relaxing in his arms. The couple stood in silence for some time, savoring the unspoken quietness between them.

“Remember when you had to go in as bait for Cat Adams?” Derek asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh– yeah. Why are you asking?” Spencer responded, not getting the hint where the conversation was going.

“Two weeks since that case, I had these nightmares. I thought I could get through with it, but I can’t. My nightmare was about that. I dreamt that you were shot by Cat.” Derek explained.

“Derek…” Spencer felt shocked while his heart was breaking. He felt like he had to do something. But all he could do was sit and listen to his boyfriend get everything off his chest.

"I wish this is a nightmare that I could just wake up from... but it feels all real... and I hate every second of it. I felt like I was going to lose you when it actually happened,” Derek’s voice cracked a bit as tears pricked his deep brown eyes. “And I don’t want this to repeat. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” Spencer quietly said, caresses Derek’s cheek. “We will make sure she stays in prison, alright?” Derek brought Spencer in for a long embrace. The mousy-haired man wrapped his arms around his athletic boyfriend’s waist as he placed his head in the crook of Derek’s neck. The soft warmth coming off of Derek comforted Spencer, clashing with her cold pale skin.

“I just uh…” Derek said tiredly.

“Yeah.” Spencer replied, smiling softly. He knew in his heart that Derek said “I love you” to him.

“You know?”

“I know.”

taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @pumpkin-stars / @hotchgans / @pen3mily / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @morcias / @notsosmexy / @cherrychris / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp / @a-writers-ramblings / @morceid

#honeys stories #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid #moreid fanfiction #moreid fanfic #mlm yearning #fanfiction #fanfic #userchips #userjemilyology #usersunlight #userhj #usercosmic #usertiana #userablake #userkodi

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peakyswritings · 3 years

Text

Patience

500 followers celebration🎉

Celebration masterlist

Requested by: anonymous

Prompt: #patience

Summary: at Tommy and Grace’s wedding, you start to think that maybe it’s time to face the truth. Something’s broken and you’re not sure you can fix it.

Warnings: angst, drinking

Gif credits: x

“Can we at least pretend to be fine?” you asked your husband, standing next to him in a corner of the great room. It was probably the biggest wedding you had ever been to. Arrow House was beautifully decorated, whoever took care of the ornaments paid meticulous attention to every detail. Nevertheless, the tension between the Shelbys and the cavalry was something that no one could ignore; everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells, for a single wrong move could potentially ruin the whole ceremony. Moreover, the fact that things between you and Arthur weren’t going too well didn’t help. You were either fighting or ignoring each other, with some sporadic moments of peace in-between. Even in those moments, there was nothing of the spontaneity that had always distinguished your relationship. It all happened gradually, until you became two strangers living in the same house.

He took a sip from his flask, not looking at you.

“It seems like you have enough problems for tonight anyway” you mumbled the last sentence, crossing your arms over your chest. His brows furrowed in agitation as he glanced at you, shifting uncomfortably in his place. He was never good at hiding things from you.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean”

You weren’t stupid. You had noticed the way the Shelby brothers were on edge, waiting for someone. It wasn’t just a wedding. The race and the fighting match going on outside the house were the proof. You had known the Shelbys long enough to learn their tricks. A distraction to hide something. You wondered how much time it would take for your husband to disappear again. He didn’t reply, putting the flask back in his vest pocket.

“It’s nothing too important” he vaguely said, leaning against the wall and fiddling with his watch. “Just business”

It was clear that he was trying to get away from that conversation, but wouldn’t let him win so easily.

“Oh, now I understand” you narrowed your eyes “you don’t know anything about it. You just do what Tommy tells you to do”

His silence gave you the answer. You tried to look calm, but on the inside you were raging. You weren’t angry with him, at least not completely; what was making you furious was the fact that Arthur was going to put himself in danger again, without even knowing the reason.

“I heard someone speaking Russian” you said at some point. “I remember you saying Russians are not people to mess with. What changed your mind?” you inquired, turning to look at him.

“I trust him”

“You trust him” you scoffed.

“Yeah I do”

“Of course you do. But I don’t.”

“I thought we had to pretend to be fine” he changed the subject.

Before you had the chance to reply, Tommy gestured towards him from the opposite side of the room. Arthur nodded and moved away from the wall. He placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “I’ll be right back”

You watched him while he walked away, with an apprehensive look on your face.

He blindly did what his brother wanted, not expecting an explanation or caring about the consequences. Then he ended up broken, riddled with guilt and it became harder and harder for him to pick up the pieces. The hardest part was that there was nothing you could do to lift that weight off of his shoulders.

You looked at Grace, a big smile lit up her features as she talked with some family members. She probably didn’t know anything either. Even though you didn’t really like her, a wave of compassion hit you. It was meant to be her day, after all. You shook your head, taking a glass of champagne from the silver plate held by a server who walked by, drinking it in one go. She would learn really soon that Shelby wives had no say in their husbands’ business.

******

You watched as everyone slowly left the room; some guests were so drunk that they couldn’t even stand. Four hours later, you still didn’t know where Arthur was. Maybe it was time to start looking for him. You walked out the house, shivering at the contact with the cold breeze. A figure sitting alone on the stairs caught your attention. When you sat next to him, he didn’t even raise his head.

You took a moment to look at him. With his loose tie and disheveled hair, he looked drained. At the same time, his messy appearence made him look younger, almost like when you met. But a melancholic gaze had replaced his boyish grin and in the man in front of you there seemed to be nothing of the boy you had met all those years ago.

You didn’t know what to do. Did he want to talk about what happened? Or did he want to be left alone?

He removed his coat, placing it on your shoulders.

“Don’t ask” he simply said, as if he could read your mind.

You rested with your head on his shoulder, looking at the way the grass moved in the wind. You sat there in silence, not saying a word even after all the guests were gone.

“How did we get to this point?” you asked all of a sudden. There was no accusation in your voice, just a bitter sadness. “We used to always tell each other everything. To talk about everything. What changed?”

“We changed. You realised that some things will always stay the same, that this is how our life is” he observed, shrugging his shoulders “and I...I’m not a good man. I want to be a good man, but I’m not”

He was right. Something broke between the two of you long ago, something you couldn’t fix. The worst thing was that you didn’t even know why. It just happened. You grew apart. As much as you tried to ignore it, the truth was right in front of your eyes. It became clear that day, when you saw how happy Grace and Tommy looked despite the circumstances, how their love showed through every glance and gesture. You and Arthur hadn’t looked at each other like that in a long time.

But you desperately wanted to think that a part of the man you fell in love with was still there, under the the violence and the drinking and the killing. You could see it in the way he wanted to be good so bad, in his sensitivity, in the way on certain nights his arms still felt welcoming. Even in the way he was always loyal to his brother, no matter how it hurt him. And you didn’t wanna believe that everything was lost.

“I still love you, Arthur”

It was true. Love couldn’t go away just like that. It was not something you could turn off when you wanted to. A part of you wished you could, because it would’ve been easier. You could’ve called a solicitor, packed your things and left the house- you even got to the point of almost doing it- but the love that bound you to him stopped you every time. Because the thought of being away from him made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. You never thought that unconditional love actually existed, but what else could you call the bond that forced you to to stay even when you didn’t see the point?

He didn’t say a word, but you knew he loved you too. He didn’t need to say it out loud. The way he he sighed in relief and brought you closer to him gave you the answer you needed.

Maybe it wasn’t everything lost, after all. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to fix it, but you could try. You chose to ignore once again the part of you that told you that love wasn’t enough. With patience, things could get better.

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fics #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader

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