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kimvvantae · 4 years

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puzzle; 7 (m)

➜ you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, a little bit of violence

rating: 18+

word count: 12k

A/N: sweet jesus it’s been so long but it’s finally here! this is the last but one chapter of the series. i genuinely hope you guys enjoy it and i reeeeally want to know your thoughts on it! feel free to leave a comment! if you feel i’m deserving of it lmao

enjoy!

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

[bby bear]: where are you???

[bby bear]: you'll get late for class

[you]: i knoww

[you]: the traffic is so heavy today 🤦🤦

[bby bear]: you should have come w me

[you]: i need to go to the bank

[you]: i told you

[bby bear]: i could have taken u theer

[bby bear]: there

[you]: 🥺🥺 next time i'll go w you i promise!!

[you]: but i'm close

[you]: i'll probably lose the first period tho

[bby bear]: 🤦

You shove the phone inside of your pocket when you notice the pedestrian sign is finally green. The crowd on both sides of the avenue rush, everyone on their fast pace as usual. You're even forced to push some people in order to walk by.

Getting to the other side of the street, you stop in front of the building.

Tall as fuck. That cool kind of building with mirrors all over it, where only cool people wearing cool suits walking around holding cups of coffee on one hand and phones on the other hand talking business language kind of people work at.

You certainly don't work here. You definitely don't have any stuff to do here. You surely are not close to the campus and you will lose much more than just the first period.

Seulgi will most definitely punch your face when she finds out where you are and what you're about to do.

You confidently walk inside the building, pushing through its glass doors into the pristine, modern and gigantic main hall. Your black boots contrast with the high heels all the other women wear around you. So does the rest of your outfit. Mini skirts and oversized hoodies are not part of the dress code here. You can almost hear their minds asking, what is this person doing here? The clanck clanck sound of their heels clicking against the marble floor is somehow pleasing, though.

You stop in front of the reception counter. A pretty girl opens a crystal white smile to you. Her hair is tied tightly, her uniform was ironed to perfection. "Good morning. How can I help you?" She chirps happily.

"Good morning. My name is Y/N. I'd like to talk to Irene."

The smile quickly falters.

The girl side eyes her colleague that sits by her side. "Hmm… unfortunately, Miss Irene does not receive visits," she says carefully, still trying to keep her smile. "You must be mistaken."

You can see this girl thinks you're crazy. You quickly realize that people usually don't come at the reception and simply say they want to talk to Irene. But, well, what else would you do? You have to announce your presence somehow.

"Irene is waiting for me. You can call her and ask if you want," you insist.

The receptionist looks pale for a moment.

Hesitantly, she takes the phone and dials a number. You can still see that the girl thinks you're lying; she's probably ready to call the security guards. During her quick talk on the phone, you notice she's not talking to Irene, but with her secretary.

You also see the moment her eyes widen.

She hangs up the phone and stands up, smiling widely again.

"Miss Y/N, Irene is waiting for your arrival," she says, and you notice the slight tone of panic in her voice. "Please, accompany me."

All the other visitors have to show their identifications and take a quick picture on the reception, you notice, but the girl simply ignores this procedure with you, guiding you to the elevator instead. She explains the situation to the security guard and he lets you in. The receptionist still looks slightly panicked. She's probably scared that you'll complain how the receptionist was rude to me directly to Irene, but you won't. Poor girl was just doing her job.

The elevator is big, too. It has a panoramic view of the city as it goes up to one of the highest floors.

You always thought Seulgi was overreacting when she said how bad she sometimes felt for dating Irene, but now you kind of understand her.

You knew Irene was rich. You can recognize a Gucci jacket when you see one, and you've seen Irene wearing plenty of these. But Irene always acted so normal. Sure, she was elegant - and sometimes even arrogant -, but she was still someone very pleasant to be around. She never looked disgusted to be in your tiny but comfy apartment, she never made faces when she'd sometimes wear some of Seulgi's or your clothes when she didn't bring any to spend the night, she never complained to eat the junk food you'd buy for dinner. She was just… chill.

Because of that, you'd forget that she's rich sometimes.

Being in this massive building where everyone acted as if she was a princess made you remember, though.

Irene is beyond rich. Your standard of "rich" used to be Joy: someone that has a cool, big house in a nice part of the city. Irene partially owns a fucking company. She's so chill that you never even bothered to Google the company's name; you did this today to get the address, and it only made you more shocked.

Seulgi must have felt overwhelmed many times in their relationship.

But you're sure she was much happier back then than she is now.

You're used to their drama. They were already dating when you first met Seulgi, and you saw this cycle repeating many times. This time, though, things are not happening as usual. Seulgi is the saddest you’ve ever seen in these almost three years of convivence. Right after they broke up, you thought she was just being dramatic as usual… now you see that it isn’t simple drama. She’s actually sad and has been in this state for months. She doesn’t go out anymore, stopped doing the things she liked… she even got tired of Netflix. That’s probably the most shocking fact of all.

Jungkook said you shouldn’t get involved in this, but you’re tired of seeing your friend being so sad all the time.

Their breakup was messy this time. They didn’t talk properly, didn’t make things clear. Seulgi is too stubborn to make a move (she’s totally lethargic at this point, both physically and spiritually), and Irene also seems too stubborn. Since none of them has the balls to do anything, you finally decided to step up and take action.

(Funny how you thought Jimin was annoying for trying to push you and Jungkook together, but you’re doing the exact same thing right now).

Well, look, you’re not exactly trying to push them into each other. First, you want to know Irene’s feelings and opinions on this situation. If you see that she has really moved on from Seulgi, then you’re ready to give your friend all the comfort and support in the world so she finally moves on. If Irene shows you that she still has feelings for Seulgi… well…

The speed in which she replied to your DM is a strong indicative of that.

The way her eyes glint with undeniable hope when the elevator doors open and she greets you is another indicative.

Irene looks gorgeous as always; she’s like a human version of Snow White. It’s kind of funny to meet her in her office like this. She’s almost like a female and hotter version of Christian Grey.

Her ways of greeting you are polite and… hesitant. You understand why. She probably doesn’t get what you’re doing here in the first place, what you want to talk about. Considering you’re Seulgi’s friend, she must think you’d be mad at her or something.

“Why didn’t you call me, Y/N? My guests never enter from the common hall.” she asked. Oh. Common hall is what that massive hall is called. Almost like peasants area.

“I didn’t know.” you simply say, shrugging.

“I’m sorry that we’re meeting here at my workplace. It feels too profissional, doesn’t it?” she smiles sheepishly.

Well… it does. You don’t even feel comfortable enough to move around her great office, afraid that you’d accidentally break anything (you’re sure that every little piece in this room is much more expensive than you’d be able to afford).

“Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. I think it’ll be more comfortable to talk there.” she politely suggests, and you just agree with her.

Irene guides you around the halls. This floor is less crowded, since only Important People with Important Tasks work here - and she’s greeted by all of them as she passes by. Their eyes immediately float to you, and they were surely asking themselves why Princess Irene was being followed by this peasant.

The cafeteria in question is as pretty and neatly clean as the rest of the building. Soft music plays from the speakers. Irene chooses a more private table by the windows and asks if you want to have breakfast; you politely decline and both of you end up ordering simple cups of coffee.

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air.

"I… have to confess that I got surprised when I saw your DM," Irene speaks softly. Her eyes are glued on her cup of coffee. "It's been a while."

"Yeah."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine." a hundred different scenes pass on your head as she asks this, and you know that you feel anything but fine in the moment, but it's not as if you'll rant about your complicated love life right now. "But I'm sure you don't want to ask about me."

You see a shade of pink flush Irene's cheeks.

"Well… I don't think it would be right to ask about her." Irene says.

"Why not? It's not as if you didn't know I came here to talk about Seulgi."

"But she doesn't want to know about me."

You're left speechless for a few seconds.

It's funny to see the two sides of a breakup. Because of their stubborness, they became completely out of tune with each other. Irene thought that Seulgi didn't want to know about her, when you knew pretty damn well that Seulgi stalked her social media an unhealthy amount of times per day.

You cross your arms and lean your back on the chair. Irene looks hesitant, but you see she's eager to know whatever information you may have. That's not the behavior of someone that hates their ex.

"Can I ask you something?" you say. It's funny how Irene, the owner of pretty much everything around you, looks so cornered by you, her shoulders shrinking visibly. She nods softly. "Why did you guys break up? I mean, what's your side of the story?"

Irene sighs and passes her hand through her dark hair. She looks out the window. She doesn't seem irritated by your ask. She just seems… thoughtful.

It makes you realize that, perhaps, Seulgi's not the only one feeling broken here.

"We're… different." she starts quietly. "I have been trying to keep this relationship working for a long time, you know. Even though we argued a lot and disagreed about many things. But…" Irene sighs again. Sadness shadows her features. "It was getting hard. Seulgi never accepted my help. She knows that money is no problem for me, and I just wanted to help, but why did she act so angry every time I wanted to help you guys?"

Oh.

You don't miss the way she said "help you guys"; she must be talking about the times both of you were struggling to pay the rent. Oh God. You clearly see where their opinions diverge. Irene has always been rich; she saw money as something simple, giving money to others wasn't a big deal. Meanwhile, Seulgi must've felt dependent and it surely hurt her pride. Besides, there were enough people saying that Seulgi was only dating Irene to get money from her…

"And there's more." Irene's voice becomes quieter, more fragile. "My family, they're… very conservative. It was already hard enough for them to accept my sexuality. They never did, to be honest… but they particularly don't like Seulgi, because she's not, hm, on my "social level", as they like to say."

Ooh.

This is more complicated. Seulgi doesn't know what it feels like; her family is very open minded. She told you that, in the beginning, her parents were shocked when she told them that she also liked girls, but they slowly accepted it. Irene, on the other hand…

"They keep saying that my relationship with her will be bad for the company." She confesses. "They said they'd even accept my relationship, as long as we dated in secret."

"What?!" you gasp. "This is disgusting!"

"I know." Irene nods, eyes focused on the mug between her hands. You have the impression that you see tears welling up on her eyes, but she blinks rapidly to dissipate them. "I… I was willing to go against them, because if they don't accept my relationship, then they don't accept who I am. But… I don't know if it's worth doing this if I'm not sure if Seulgi feels the same about me."

Ouch.

You remembered the night when they broke up. Seulgi came to you, crying, and said that she was tired of being with someone that wasn't brave enough to accept her.

Seulgi, my dear… you know nothing.

You can see that to go against her parents isn't as simple as it sounds. To Irene, going against her family involves reputation, money, and the company itself. It's definitely a big deal. Seulgi didn't understand how serious it is.

And Irene is willing to take this big step for her.

It's your time to sigh.

"Irene." you lean closer, staring at her seriously. "Do you still love Seulgi?"

She blinks at your direct question. Irene looks down, gulps… and nods.

"I do love her."

You can't hear any hint of doubt on her voice.

That's what you wanted to hear.

"She's not okay." You blurt out the truth. Irene widens her eyes softly and looks at you. You see guilt on her eyes as she hears this. "I came here because I'm worried about her. She doesn't act like herself anymore. She even got tired of Netflix."

Irene widens her eyes in shock. "She stopped watching Netflix?!"

"Yes." You nod seriously. "And she still loves you, too."

Irene freezes when you say this.

Now, you're sure of the tears welling up on her eyes.

"I…" she stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence. "A-Are you sure?"

You can't help but giggle at her; Irene looks shy, almost like a teenager - scared and excited to know that her crush likes her back. You feel your own heart warming up at the sight.

"Of course I'm sure."

A smile wants to make its way up to her lips. "B-But what do I do? I can't just walk up to her like this. I don't want to start another fight…"

"Irene, believe me. Seulgi will listen to anything you have to say, as long as you're being honest. Tell her about the situation with your family. Prove to her that you're willing to stand for her. I mean, if you're still willing to…"

"I am!" Irene exclaims in a heartbeat. "I am. As long as she's with me, I feel like I can do anything."

You feel yourself smiling. Irene's eyes are shining like diamonds.

"But you also have to try to understand her." You say seriously. "Seulgi is not wrong for wanting to be independent. She's finishing her studies, she wants to build a career for herself, and she wants her own money. I know you're trying to help, but you have to respect her. Also, I'm sure she doesn't want to be a burden for you."

Irene nods vehemently. "Okay. You're right. I get it."

She doesn't hold her smile back anymore as a tear rolls down her cheek. She looks so immensely happy… it's a delightful sight. And you can't help but feel happy too, because right now, more than ever, you see that Seulgi found something rare and precious in this world.

True love.

And this fact itself is enough to make you feel that coming here was worth it - even though Seulgi might want to kill you afterwards.

"But hey, Irene," you call her seriously again. "I'm doing all this because both of you stupid asses couldn't, but if you make Seulgi cry again, I will kill you. I know where you work now."

Irene laughs at your very serious threat. She leans forward and holds both of your hands. "Y/N, thank you so much for telling me all this. I will forever be grateful. If you need anything- and I mean anything- I will help you, okay? Anything!"

"Alright, alright," you say, shrugging, the slight thought that a millionaire owns you a favor sounding nice. "Now, you better go talk to Seulgi. I can't stand her walking around the living room looking like a zombie anymore." Irene laughs softly. "And… I said I wasn't hungry, but now I kind of want that waffle."

Seulgi looks like a very grumpy zombie when you meet her in the corridor.

"Where the hell were you?!" Seulgi exclaims. "It's noon!"

"Yeah, I know." you shrug. "The bank was pretty crowded."

Seulgi narrows her eyes. Her hair looks messy even though it's tied up and she has bags underneath her eyes. She's wearing the top of her old orange pajamas. It has an old kitchen oil stain over the chest. Seulgi from months ago would rarely go out looking like this.

"What the hell did you need to do there anyway? I didn't even know people still go to banks." She whines. "I was getting worried, you know?"

You walk down the corridor with your hands behind your back. You're glad Seulgi is too grumpy to notice the sly smirk on your lips, the way you kind of bounce by her side in expectation.

"Always so thoughtful, Seul. You're so cute, did you know that?"

She side eyes you, the frown deepening. "Why are you complimenting me?"

"What's the problem with complimenting you?"

"Whenever you compliment me it means either you want something or you did something that you know will piss me off."

Sometimes you forget how well Seulgi knows you.

"Jesus, you're too stressed, girl. I'll pay you lunch, okay? Let's eat at that Italian restaurant you like."

"When you offer yourself to pay for stuff it also means that-"

Seulgi stops in her tracks, completely frozen.

"Irene?"

You step back silently and hold your breath.

This is the moment that might end your friendship with Seulgi if it goes bad.

Irene seems to be holding her breath as well, her eyes round - scared, hesitant, hopeful.

And they stand there, looking at each other. As if time has slowed down. As if there was no one else besides them in the busy corridor.

If this was a drama, you imagined that the romantic soundtrack would kick in now.

"Hi, Seulgi." Irene says softly. "It's… it's been a while."

It seems that Seulgi's brain is struggling to function. "What… what are you doing here?" the fact that she does not sound defensive or aggressive but genuinely surprised and confused relieves your chest.

"I came here to talk." Irene says. "Just… just talk. But if you want me to go…"

"No." Seulgi interrupts her embarrassingly too fast. "It's alright. We… we can talk. Just talk."

Their eyes are gleaming and the ghost of smiles appear on their lips.

Your chest fills with triumph as you silently walk back. Not that either of them would even notice you anyway.

You're too far to hear what they're saying now, their soft voices drowning in the middle of the many more people walking around the corridor, but you still kind of hide inside an empty classroom, half of your body peeking outside of the door to watch them. They're talking and smiling timidly. You feel tempted to take some photos, but it's better not to. You kind of feel like an intruder watching them, even if you're this far-

"What are you doing?"

You almost feel your spirit jumping out of your body when the male voice asks dangerously close to your ear, turning around in a jump to see the source.

Now you don't know if your heart is beating so ridiculously fast because of the scare of because of the view in front of you.

Jungkook looks down at you with a puzzled expression, his hands behind his back, his body slightly leaning on your direction. He's wearing a modern grey hanbok over a black t-shirt and slippers. His backpack hangs from one shoulder. His hair is half tied up in a small bun, curly bangs falling over his eyes. This is precisely what makes your heart almost fail. You've been wondering how he would look like with his hair tied up ever since he decided to let it grow…

He's got no business looking this good. No. Fucking. Business.

But you're a master of pretending you're unbothered, so you just point ahead at their direction with an excited smile. Jungkook's eyes look up to where you're pointing and his eyes widen.

"Oh!" Almost instantly, he kind of hides behind you as well. It's hard to ignore the warmth of his body on your back, even though he isn't close enough to touch you. "Did they make up? Are they dating again?"

"I hope they will." it's weird how you're both speaking so low, as if they could possibly hear you over the loud chatter.

"What if they start fighting?"

"Don't even say that! I put my friendship with Seulgi at risk to get these two to talk!"

You turn your head in time to see Jungkook's eyes frowning as he realizes what's going on.

"It was you?"

"Of course it was."

He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head slowly in disapproval. "You said you wouldn't get involved!"

"I never said I wasn't going to get involved." you bat your lashes prettily at him, trying to give your best innocent look (unsuccessfully).

"You damn gremlin."

You whack his chest. "Aw, come on! Just look at them and tell me it isn't working!"

Both of you look ahead again to see them smiling sweetly at each other as they talk. You bounce and giggle excitedly like a little kid. "Look, look! She's blushing!"

Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "But what about Jennie?"

"Oh, Irene and Jennie went out on dates, but it didn't work out in the end. They're just friends." you repeat the exact same words Irene told you earlier.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, if she cheats on Seulgi, I'll kill her."

You watch as they slowly start to walk away side by side, heading towards the exit.

You jump out of your "hideout" and open your arms in triumph. "I did great this time, didn't I?!"

Jungkook chuckles and leans on the doorway, arms crossed. "Whatever you say."

You're an expert at acting unbothered, but right now it's really hard to do so when he looks at you this way.

He has a pretty lazy smile on his lips. It makes you feel hot inside and your stomach jumps and your heart races. His gaze is intense… but not in the way you're used to. That look isn't his I want to fuck kind of look, it's… it's… shit, you don't know what that means, but it's pretty intense. Why is he looking at you like that?

You just hope he doesn't notice how your legs are wobbly.

It's the first time you see him in person since two days ago, when he slept at your house. Two days after you had sex even though you said you wouldn't. You didn't talk properly about what happened there. To be honest, your brain still didn't process that well.

Things are awkward between you two - but this time it's a different kind of awkward. A type of awkward that made your cheeks burn while you cleaned yourself and got dressed. A type of awkward that made you feel all fuzzy and warm inside, that made a silly smile grow on your lips every time your eyes crossed his from the other side of the living room, an awkwardness that forced you both to look away and try to pretend your cheeks weren't aching from the damn smile that didn't want to go away. A type of awkward that didn't let you talk about what happened - as if none of you wanted to talk about it, to just keep it engraved in your minds forever, as if talking about it would take all the magic of the moment away.

You don't hate this type of awkward.

It's not uncomfortable. Not like what has been happening for the past months. Yet, you feel that you need to talk about it - to sort things out clearly and straightforwardly this time… because if the way he's looking at you means anything, then maybe… just maybe…

"I've got good news." Jungkook says suddenly (because he noticed that you've been staring at each other for far too long to not be embarrassing anymore).

"What?" you fiddle with your own fingers, trying to ease the tension.

"Remember that director I told you about? Mr. Choi?" You nod. "He invited me to work with him."

Your jaw drops, your eyes widen. "What? Are you serious?!"

Jungkook nods excitedly. "Yeah. Well, I'll be like the assistant of the assistant, to be honest, but… he invited me to work with him on his next project. I'll gain some real experience, at least…"

"Are you kidding? This is great, Kook! What the fuck!"

You jump over to hug him, your arms dropping around his shoulders, and Jungkook quickly hugs you back. His low excited giggle right next to your ear makes goosebumps crawl on your skin.

"I'm so fucking proud of you!" And you couldn't be more honest. Jungkook has always been so hardworking; he deserves all the success and recognition in the world. You always thought so.

"Thank you," his voice is still low and excited.

He caresses your back. It makes yet more goosebumps crawl on your skin.

Oh, God. He still smells like baby powder. He always does. You feel tempted to sniff the crook of his neck, just to take a little bit more of his scent, but you hold yourself back. It's not like hugging Jungkook is something new to you. Fuck, after everything you've done, hugging should feel like nothing. But for some reason… hugging him right now feels like a lot.

Feels awkward.

So awkward that you have to remind yourself that you're in the middle of a corridor full of people, and that this hug is taking way too long, so you step back before your brain completely malfunctions.

"A-And," you clear your throat and put a strand of hair behind your ear, furiously avoiding his gaze. You never thought that Jungkook would make you feel shy like this. Shy and Y/N shouldn’t make sense in the same sentence. "When is this next project?"

"In two days. I think he decided to put me on the crew last minute."

"This means that he really trusts you."

Jungkook smiles sheepishly and massages the back of his neck. "I just hope I won't mess things up."

"You'll do great, Kook. You always do."

He lifts his gaze to you again.

That same look again.

You feel that everything is blurred except him again. No one else is in that corridor. No loud chatter. Just him and his starry eyes, looking back at you, eyes that smile as much as his lips.

God.

You need to sort things out.

You can't just stare at him with heart eyes like this anymore. You need to talk about what happened. This conversation feels awkward because you're both trying to act normal, pretending that there isn't a fucking elephant in the room - an elephant that makes you think of a mattress in the middle of your living room, of sunrays touching his exposed skin, of old pajamas being thrown around and sweat and soft kisses and salty tears dripping down your temples.

You need to know if he also felt that that morning was different. You need to know if he feels the same. Even if he doesn't - even if his heart lays with Yeri or Joy or whoever it might be - you need to know, and you don't care about what the outcome might be. You just can't torture yourself like this anymore.

So you inhale and gulp.

"Jungkook, I was thinking… are you busy after classes?" you ask timidly.

He presses his lips together. "Actually, I am. The boys and I are planning to celebrate the end of the semester tonight."

Mission abort! Mission abort!!

"Why?"

"Oh- it's nothing. I was just…" you can't think of any excuse. "It's not that important anyway. Forget it."

Jungkook looks at you with suspicion. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I'm sure. Nevermind."

He still stares at you for a while, frowning.

"You wanna come with us?"

"No!" you shake your hands dismissively. You're not having this super important conversation surrounded by all of his friends. "I'm just gonna bother you guys. It's fine, Jungkook. Enjoy your night."

Jungkook shrugs. He takes his phone from his back pocket for a moment. "Well, I gotta go. I promised I'd pay Jimin lunch."

"Alright."

You start to walk in opposite directions.

“But we can meet tomorrow, right?” You turn around way too fast when you hear Jungkook say, a few steps away from you. He looks hesitant, an awkward little smile on his lips. “I have some stuff to do, but we can see each other at night. After I finish preparing my stuff. We could meet, right?” He visibly starts to look more and more awkward as he speaks. As if his confidence started to vanish. It’s kind of adorable. “You could come to my place. O-Or I could go to yours, I don’t care- I mean, can I?”

Your heart is bouncing crazily inside of you. You don’t notice how you’re mirroring his awkward smile. “Of course, Kook. When did you ever need permission to go to my apartment?”

Jungkook frowns as if he just realized how stupid his ask was. “Guess you’re right. Or maybe we could go out somewhere, right? It’s been a while since we went out, the two of us.”

He’s right. All you’ve been doing for the past months is meet to have sex. You don’t even remember the last time you two did something that didn’t involve getting naked.

“Sure, let’s go out.”

You stare at each other for a few more awkward moments (awkward is a word you’ve been thinking a lot about lately). See, that’s not how things would go between you two back then. Neither of you ever needed to ask previously to go out. You’d just usually drag Jungkook out of his house by force when you deemed he hasn’t been taking enough sunlight (fucking Overwatch). Or Jungkook would call you at 3am because he was bored of playing Overwatch and just realized there was only expired milk and an empty box of cereal in the cabinets because the last time he and Jimin bought food was 2 weeks ago and he’d be like “hey, let’s go to Walmart” and you’d be like “what the fuck Jungkook it’s 3am” and he’d be like “but Jimin’s not home I need help” and you’d be like “fuck you” but twenty minutes later you’d both be on your pajamas pushing a cart inside of an empty Walmart as you barely register Jungkook ranting about how he thinks he’s lactose intolerant because he had diarrhea the last time he ate yogurt.

That’s kind of how things used to go back then.

At the same time you desperately want your relationship to go back to normal, you don’t really hate the way you’re feeling right now.

“Right, I gotta go.” Jungkook snaps out of it faster than you and nods. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

Again, you turn around and start to walk in opposite directions. Slowly. Hesitantly. Because both of you know you don't want to go. Both of you know you still have a lot to talk about.

But maybe later.

[bby bear]: i kinda want to kill you rn but

[bby bear]: thank u so fcking much

[bby bear]: ily

[bby bear]: bitch

You're smiling so hard that your cheeks might probably start to ache. If Seulgi texted you this, it means things went really well with Irene.

The chatter in the dining hall is nothing but background noise on your ears as you scroll down your boring Instagram feed, the plate just half eaten in front of you. You’re not really hungry. Maybe the stress of studying for finals messed your stomach. The hell’s finally over, at least, and you’re sure that your grades won’t be that bad (Seulgi didn’t want to do anything, but you at least convinced her to study with you. That’s the only thing that got her out of her bedroom. Her zombie state was kinda the reason why you studied so hard).

Some text notifications pop on your screen, but you just swipe them away since none of them are from the person you’re waiting for. All of your friends are planning to go out tonight and some of them are asking if you want to go. No, you don’t. Honestly, you’ve not been feeling yourself these days. Past you would always be up to a party. Past you wouldn’t be having lunch alone in the dining hall - honestly though, you don’t even mind being by yourself. Nothing would make you feel emptier right now than being surrounded by random people. Just one person matters at the moment-

“Hi.”

You almost drop the phone inside the plate when you look up to see who just sat in front of you.

Joy.

Your throat feels suddenly bitter. You have to gulp.

“Jesus, I didn’t even notice you come,” you inhale and chuckle. “How you doing, Joy?”

Joy smiles. “I’m fine.”

She’s lying.

There’s something in the way she looks at you and in the way her smile looks plastic-fake that makes you shiver.

It makes you think that she didn’t even want to be here.

Well, you don’t know about her, but you certainly feel uncomfortable right now. You can’t lie that you’ve been feeling kind of guilty these days because you’ve been fucking the guy she likes in secret, but a big fat load of guilt hit you especially after two days ago. Joy went on a date with Jungkook and barely a few hours later you had him inside of you. And, of course, you had rough sex with him inside of her bathroom. All the while you knew Joy liked him and encouraged her to be with him-

Wow, it’s getting hard to look at her right now.

You really are a bitch. In the beginning you didn’t feel bad because you stupidly assumed there weren’t feelings involved. It was just friends with benefits, right? You even agreed that you could have sex with other people. If Jungkook started dating Joy, of course you’d stop doing it. Also, there was nothing between you two. You didn’t even feel jealousy.

Things changed, though, and at some point you genuinely started to hate this poor girl for breathing around Jungkook. And now you feel guilty because you realized that you like the guy that she told you she had a crush on months ago.

I took a shower this morning, so why do I feel so dirty right now?

A shiver runs down your spine.

The way she’s looking at you… what if she knows-?

“I’m throwing a party tonight,” she says suddenly. “To celebrate the end of the semester. You wanna come?”

You’ve been fucking the guy she likes for months and there she is, being nice and inviting you to her party. You really are a fake ass bitch-

“O-Oh.” You rub the back of your neck. “I, uhm… thanks, Joy, but I’m not feeling very well today. I just feel like sleeping, to be honest.” You chuckle sheepishly again.

Joy nods. “Alright.”

She doesn’t insist. It looks like she doesn’t even care. As if she’s just being polite.

In fact, it kind of looks that she’s relieved that you said no-

“So, how was your date with Taehyung?” She changes the topic quickly. “We didn’t even talk about it.”

Right. She’s talking about the person you don’t even want to think about because there’s only so much guilt one person can feel at once.

“It was fun.” You say. “We had a lot of fun.”

It sounds stupid, the way you can’t even articulate your date with him. You’re not lying - you had fun… kind of.

“Are you dating him now?”

Okay, this is getting strange. Not the question, but the way she asked. You’re 100% sure she’s annoyed by something, and honestly looks uninterested in your current state with Taehyung right now, so why is she asking anyway?

“No, we’re not.” You admit.

Joy stares at you in silence as if she’s waiting for you to say something more, but you say nothing else. Joy then nods. This is getting very uncomfortable.

You feel that she’s about to leave, so you pick up the courage to speak again. She touched this topic anyway.

You know it’s wrong to ask. You shouldn’t. But you’re so curious that you can’t help.

“A-And, uhm… what about you and Jungkook? How was your date?” you try so hard to pretend you’re not dying curious to know.

Joy stares at you in silence again. She isn’t smiling.

“He didn’t tell you?”

What? Is there something to tell?!

“No. Jungkook’s kinda private about this type of thing,” you’re lying, of course, because even if Jungkook didn’t want to, you’d usually annoy him with questions about his dates so hard that he’d end up telling everything that happened.

Joy looks away and quirks one eyebrow. “Oh. I assumed he would have since you guys are so close.”

The way she says so close bothers you.

It’s her turn to rub the back of her neck, her eyes glued on the table - only she doesn’t look nervous. Yeah, she’s annoyed. Joy takes so long to talk that you’re about to repeat your question, but she finally speaks:

“We also had fun. Jungkook really is a sweet guy, right? He did nothing wrong. He’s so polite that it ended up annoying me, honestly. More polite than I would have wanted him to be…” Hah, so they didn’t fuck! Great! “Well, he dropped me home and I invited him to spend the night and all, but… He was very polite. He apologized a lot and said that he couldn’t stay…”

Joy licks her lips. Why the dramatic pause? Say it already, come on!

“He’s also a very honest guy, right?” She chuckled, but she clearly didn’t think it was funny. “He said that he thought I was an amazing person, but things wouldn’t go further than this because…”

For the first time, Joy lifts her gaze and looks at you.

“Because he already had feelings for someone else.”

You’re honestly not breathing anymore.

Joy is watching you very carefully. You’re as stiff as a board.

“Not a fun way to finish a date, right?” She says and chuckles, again, it’s clear she isn’t happy at all. “Anyways, I have to go now. Bye.”

She gets up and walks away before you can even say anything, as if this conversation was being unbearable for her.

Meanwhile, you just sit there. Frozen. Breathless.

He said things wouldn’t go further than this.

Your throat feels very dry out of sudden. Very, very dry and coarse, as if you’ve eaten sand.

Because…

You take the water bottle from over the table and drink it in one big, big gulp, until the bottle is empty and your shaking fingers crushed the fragile pet bottle.

He already had feelings for someone else.

You get up and take the tray so fast that you almost drop everything.

Your movements are fast as you walk out of the busy dining hall, your heart beating loudly on your ribcage, your breathing irregular and your mind working at 200 km/h.

He already had feelings for someone else.

He told Joy this. He dropped her home and told her the truth. He apologized. He… he said he already had feelings for someone else. Jesus Christ. Your heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

He- He-

He might be talking about Yeri, a little, hesitant voice inside your mind whispers. Well… sure. You’ve been suspecting it for a good while. But… after Jungkook dropped Joy home and said this he-

He went to your apartment.

He went to you.

You feel the need to stop walking and lean on the corridor’s wall. The world around you is blurred.

What is this feeling bubbling up in your chest? A feeling so strong that it’s almost spilling over? This thing that makes you open the widest smile you ever opened and makes you want to jump around the corridor like crazy?

He came to me. He came to me. He came to me. He came to me.

He came to me!

But-

But there’s still the Yeri possibility.

You need to know the truth. To hear him say it, and you can’t wait another day - not anymore.

You take your phone from your bag and type with shaking fingers.

[you]: hey

[you]: can we meet today?

[you]: i really need to talk to you

Jeon Jungkook is a simp.

He doesn’t like this word. He thinks it’s annoying how people would call a guy a simp just because he’s treating a girl with minimal decency.

But, like. He’s a simp. He knows he is. He took a long time to admit this, but lately his pride has been already so crushed and stepped on by a particular pair of feet that he can’t even bring himself to feel anything anymore.

Actually, no. He has been feeling like shit for a long time. It’s just the alcohol anesthetizing him right now.

That’s just his second bottle of beer and he already feels kind of dizzy. It’s been a while since he last drank alcohol, that’s probably why his resistance feels weak. He makes a mental reminder to not drink too much. Jungkook knows that he gets really talkative when he’s drunk and he always ends up saying stuff he shouldn’t - and today especially he can’t end up saying stuff he shouldn’t with that guy around.

If he knew Taehyung would be here too, Jungkook wouldn’t have come. Yes, he knows he’s being childish. He knows he’s angry at someone that didn’t do anything wrong, he knows that jealousy is bad, he knows that technically he is wrong because he’s been dicking down the girl that he knew his friend liked. He knows all that, alright?!

Jungkook throws his head back and sighs, passing his hand through his hair. A chilling night breeze touches his cheeks; since the inside of the bar was already full and they were too many, everyone decided to sit on the outside part of the bar. Jungkook hasn’t been paying attention to anything anyone around him was saying and neither was he interested. He thought that coming here would make him forget about the things that have been troubling him, but in the end he’s just thinking more about them.

I could excuse myself and go home. He thought. I have a lot of things to do anyway. I wouldn’t be lying.

He feels a hand rest on his shoulder and looks at Jimin, sitting on a chair by his side. The look on Jimin’s face already says everything. Jungkook sometimes thinks that Jimin has telepathic superpowers; how does he always know what’s going on before anyone even says anything?

“You alright?” Jimin asks in a low tone, careful not to call anyone’s attention. The younger one nods.

“Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook reassures.

Taehyung laughs loudly from across the table and both of them end up looking at him. Jimin looks back at Jungkook.

Jimin sighs. “You know you can go home if you want to.”

“Yeah.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

Jungkook looks at Jimin and sips a bit more of the beer slowly.

“Yeah.”

Jimin smacks his shoulder and goes back to his previous conversation with Hoseok.

How Jimin always seems to know what’s going on… it annoys Jungkook a lot. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. It’s not like Jungkook told him about his feelings, Jimin just… realized. They were doing grocery shopping one day and Jungkook mentioned how last time he went to Walmart you told him that the diarrhea he had wasn’t because he was lactose intolerant but because the yogurt was expired and then Jimin turned around and simply said:

“You like her, right?”

And Jungkook gasped.

Jimin smirked knowingly and just kept pushing the cart. He said nothing else - but it was as if Jungkook had just confessed his deepest feelings right there.

This happened a little bit after Jungkook and Yeri broke up and kind of made him feel offended. How could Jimin say he liked you? He hadn’t even gotten over Yeri, Jimin knew very well. However, it seems that Jimin is not only a telepath, he can also see the future, because he couldn’t be more right.

If Jungkook’s being honest with himself, some months ago he wasn’t really really sure about what he felt about you. As the “Yeri” scar started to heal he got more aware of his own feelings and actions towards you, but it was hard to sort things out because he was always in denial. That desire to hold you close and hug you and take care of you and not let anyone hurt you anymore? Well, that was just his protective side. You have always been one of his dearest people. Jungkook also knew that he had a little possessive side. He was sure that this feeling would eventually vanish.

Maybe he was also frightened because he knew it wasn’t reciprocal. You never even looked at him in a way that might mean you felt something else for him. He wasn’t going to confess something he wasn’t sure of to someone that definitely didn’t feel anything for him and destroy a life-long friendship.

But oh boy, how things have changed.

They changed the moment you hopped on his lap that night inside his car. Jesus, that first week was hell for Jungkook. He was trying so, so hard to forget the messy drunken memories of his night with you - especially because, the moment he woke up and saw the pure face of terror on your face when you realized what just happened, he thought of how much you regretted that and all of his hopes died right there - the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you could be more than friends.

Yet, he got to taste you again. Two times were all it took to get him addicted.

He couldn’t stop anymore - and it hurt him much more than he would like to admit. He felt that he was being used, even though he let you do it (and he enjoyed it every time, not gonna lie). He felt worthless, he felt angry at himself because he couldn’t stop and because you were so, so fucking stupid, so fucking blind, he felt sad because he watched as your friendship started to slowly die down, and now he feels jealous and guilty because he’s been seeing how Taehyung likes you - how Taehyung even asked him advice to ask you out - and he didn’t stop fucking you anyway.

That day at Joy’s house? It was ridiculous. Jungkook still doesn’t understand what the fuck happened to him, why he felt so angry. Perhaps he was finally getting tired of how dumb you are, how you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.

Just thinking about you hurts now. And Jungkook thinks about you a lot. There he is, surrounded by his friends, where he should be talking and having fun, but he’s too busy thinking about you. In two days he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, his first real job. He should be thinking about it. Not about you.

He can’t stop thinking about your flustered face.

You don’t look flustered that often. Especially not around him.

He thinks this is very intriguing.

What hurt him the most in all this - the thing that made him feel like a piece of shit more than anything - is that he knows you too damn well and he knew that it was never special to you. To you it was just sex, it was just fun; whenever your lips touched you never felt like you were being swept off your feet like he did, whenever you touched him you didn’t feel like just then, in that moment, everything was right - as if the Universe was only created for that specific moment to happen, as if the Universe was expectantly waiting for the moment his fingers ran on your skin freely since the very beginning.

He never felt like this with anyone else. No other pussy has ever made him feel this poetic.

The fact that Jungkook knew you didn’t feel the same was exactly why he couldn’t stop; this would be the closest he’d ever be from you in that sense - and honestly, after he tasted you, he didn’t want to go back to stage one. You were like a drug. You brought him comfort, you brought him bliss. Having sex with you became somehow of a escapist method. But, just like every drug, you started to make him feel sick… so sick that he couldn’t stand to be around you when you weren’t fucking.

He drifted away.

God, he even stupidly tried to move on, but Joy was a foolish try. Jungkook felt bad for using her like this - even though he never even kissed her, he felt that he was fooling her anyway. Going on that date with Joy made everything worse, because he was with that gorgeous, intelligent and lovely girl, but he couldn’t feel anything but fucking empty.

He also realized that you couldn’t be his drug anymore. You deserved much more than that. That’s why he drove all the way to your apartment like a magnet. He preferred to go back to stage one if necessary, if it meant that he could be around you without feeling like a worthless piece of shit anymore.

Of course - things didn’t work out that way.

But that morning- it was different.

Jungkook has to sip more of his beer just thinking about it.

It was different.

It was… quiet, very quiet. Much more quieter than he was used to. And much closer than he ever remembered.

All the times he had sex with you - his body was being pleased, but his soul felt hurt. This time, though, he felt that his whole self was being healed. You didn’t feel like a drug. You felt like a cure.

As if you were connected in somehow of a deeper way.

As if this time, it wasn’t one-sided on his part.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about it. His pessimistic side tried to convince him that he was being delusional or dramatic (he has this tendency to overthink anyways) and maybe he was, but, again… you don’t usually act flustered, especially not around him. And you’ve been looking flustered around him for quite some now, even before that morning. Sure, your friendship became uncomfortable at some point and he realized that none of you knew how to act around each other anymore, but still…

What about that time you saw a picture of Yeri on his computer?

You looked very, very awkward.

Or how you sometimes seemed bothered when Joy was around. You teased him a lot at that pool party. Jungkook knew you could get kinda kinky sometimes (he knew you liked the thrill of possibly being caught), but that felt like too much even for you.

His pessimistic side once again tried to convince him that he was seeing things. You wouldn’t be acting jealous. You were never jealous of him with any girl. Never. You even encouraged him to be with Joy, right?

What if… what if maybe, just maybe…?

Stop getting your hopes too high, his pessimistic side scolded. You look stupid.

I’ve been looking stupid for a goddamn long time, Jungkook thinks back. His pessimistic side looks back at him with disdain.

Jungkook frowns and looks at the bottle of beer on his hand. This is just regular beer, right? He surely isn’t so drunk that he’s already arguing with himself.

I should probably go home.

Or…

He could go to your home.

You wanted to talk to him earlier today. You looked very hesitant - again, very uncharacteristic of you. It felt like it was something important. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if he knocked on your door unannounced - wait, you never cared. At least when your relationship didn’t involve rough sex. I mean- you didn’t mind not even when you started fucking, to be honest.

Why do I feel so nervous? I’ve never felt nervous over such a stupid thing. I mean, she’s the same dumbass I’ve known my whole life.

You’re probably home doing nothing. That’s also very uncharacteristic of you. Normal you would be at some club or party right now, celebrating the end of the semester. Normal you would probably have tried to drag him along. Or you’d meet some time during the night when you’re both too drunk to be standing and then you’d end up at 5am at the usual Burger King because you’re both hungry, and the Burger King employees would be staring at you both with anger and disgust because you’re both laughing like stupid and talking too loud and they’ve been up all night and can’t stand two drunk costumers this early in the morning.

It sounds nice.

Jungkook remembers that Seulgi and Irene made up, which means that Seulgi most definitely isn’t home.

Which means you positively are home alone.

Home alone, huh.

Jungkook sips more beer.

This sounds nicer.

But, hey, it’s not like he’s being dirty minded (well, at least not entirely). He really wants to know what you wanted to talk about - and suddenly, he doesn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow. Maybe it’s the alcohol (maybe he really shouldn’t finish this beer), but he wants to see your face a lot right now. Your flustered face. And he kinda feels like holding your face with both hands and kissing you very slowly. And he kinda feels like going very very deep inside of-

You know what? Fuck it.

Jungkook puts the bottle over the table and is ready to get up. His excuse is ready. Nobody’s gonna think it’s strange anyway - Jungkook has actual stuff to do.

But he doesn’t have the chance to move when he notices a person approaching the tables where he’s sat.

He freezes.

It’s you.

You’re looking down at your phone before you lift your head and see the group of familiar faces a few meters away from you. You’re alone.

Jungkook’s heart starts to beat furiously inside his chest. A smile unconsciously increases on his lips. What are you doing here? He didn’t know you’d come. He’s also sure that he didn’t tell you which bar he would come to earlier today. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as a hundred ideas run on his mind in those few seconds; did you feel the need to see him as much as he wanted to see you? Did you have the same idea as him? Were you so eager to see him that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow-?

Your eyes finally cross his.

That’s when Jungkook notices something isn’t right.

You look surprised, then a second later you frown, then you slowly widen your eyes.

He knows you too damn well.

You didn’t know he’d be there, too. You’re surprised to see him. And it looks… it looks like you didn’t want to see Jungkook there.

“Y/N!”

A loud, excited, familiar male voice bursts out.

Jungkook watches frozen in place as Taehyung gets up in a swift movement, holds your face with both hands and kisses you.

Taehyung’s lips are warm against yours. They taste like toothpaste and beer.

The kiss is very brief. Taehyung breaks it alway soon, but still holds your face with his hands. He’s smiling widely.

“You're late, missy!" He says happily.

You're frozen in place.

This isn't happening.

"I-" you stutter. It seems that your brain went into complete malfunction. "I, uhm…"

Your eyes travel back to Jungkook.

He's just watching. Not moving a muscle. No.

No no no no no no.

This can't be happening.

Jungkook wasn't supposed to be here. You thought- you thought he was going to celebrate with his classmates, you didn't expect Taehyung would be here too. No, no. Just no.

You see the exact moment his features get as hard as stone. The way he clenches his jaw tight.

You can't breathe.

When you texted Taehyung earlier, you didn’t really like that he told you to meet him at a bar. A bar wasn’t the right place to have this type of conversation - you also felt bad that you’d probably ruin his end-of-semester celebrations - but you agreed anyway because you desperately needed to make things clear with Taehyung before you had that talk with Jungkook. You decided to do this because Jungkook was honest and fair with Joy; you needed to do the same. You left the worst of the impressions when you let Taehyung kiss you that day. You needed to tell him the truth, or else he’d just suffer more - and you couldn’t be a bitch enough to just dump him by text.

But fuck - you didn’t expect Taehyung would fucking kiss you in front of everyone the moment he saw you!

With the corner of your eye, you see Jimin looking from you to Taehyung to Jungkook very fast, his face going pale as he realizes what just happened. No one else notices that something’s wrong.

Jungkook breaks eye contact with you and gets up from his chair. Jimin looks at him, helpless. You know that expression. He’s angry and- and-

Hurt.

You step away from Taehyung, trying to get control over your body again. It feels like pure frost has filled your veins. “T-Taehyung, I…” Your mouth is very dry again. You clear your throat. “C-Can we talk somewhere else?”

You suddenly hate how oblivious Taehyung is and how touchy he is because it’s clear that he’s moving his arm to hold your hand. What the fuck?! We just kissed once, it’s not like we’re dating!

“Sure. Do you wanna get inside? Wanna get a drink?” He asks with the same happy smile.

You’re trying to think of something to say, but again, someone else behind him gets your attention.

“You’re going this early, Jungkook?” Hoseok whines, oblivious to the whole situation. Jungkook is putting his backpack over his shoulder. He’s looking down, jaw still very tight. Not a word said - yet you could see exactly how hurt he was.

“Yeah. I have a lot to do.” He simply says.

“Aw, come on, man!” Taehyung encourages. “You can stay a little longer!”

If Taehyung was a little less oblivious, he would have noticed the death glare sent in his direction.

“I can’t.”

A shiver crawls over your entire body as the death glare is now directed to you.

He’s so, so hurt.

Jungkook’s walking away.

Stop! You want to scream. You got it all wrong! Don’t go!

But you don’t have the chance to stop him, and Jungkook doesn’t have the chance to walk away, and Taehyung doesn’t have the chance to understand what’s going on.

Everyone turns their heads when they hear a boisterous, scandalous laughter, and the sound of someone clapping their hands dramatically.

Now you’re sure that your veins are frosted. You shiver again - yet this time, it’s pure fear.

It’s Mike.

A very, very drunk Mike.

He looks the worst you’ve ever seen him; his clothes are a mess, his hair has grown a lot, and he hasn’t been shaving lately. His eyes are widened, red and maniac. He stumbles as he walks closer, everyone on the table - and the people on the tables around - stopping to look as he still claps ironically.

“Oh, look at what we have here!” he’s loud. Very loud. “So interesting!”

You notice that Jungkook isn’t walking away anymore - in fact, he comes back a few steps, standing closer to you. His body language has changed. Jimin has also gotten up; it seems that Taehyung might be starting to understand what’s going on.

“This is the funniest shit I’ve seen in a looooong time,” Mike continues. God, he’s drooling. This isn’t happening. That’s not possible.

You watch as some guys come closer to Mike and recognize them as his friends. One of them holds Mike’s arm. “Come on, man. Don’t start a scene. It’s not worth it.” He says in a rather low voice, but you can still hear it.

Mike gets off his grip aggressively. “What do you mean? Of course it’s worth it!” Mike looks at you and grins like a madman. You feel another shiver run down your spine. “Hello, Y/N! It’s been a long time! How have you been?!”

“Your friend’s right.” Jungkook speaks up. “Get out of here.”

“Ooooooh,” Mike shakes his hands as if pretending to be scared. “Look who’s here, too! It’s the bestie! Jeon Jungkook, the best friend your girlfriend could ever have!”

Pretty much everyone on the outside part of the bar is paying attention to what’s going on. They whisper between themselves, looking at Mike, you and Jungkook. You feel so embarrassed that you might as well faint. You feel that you should have said something already, but your brain is still malfunctioning.

“Jeon Jungkook, the friend that will want to fuck your girl so bad, but he won’t because he’s a coward!” Mike screams and laughs like a maniac.

Jungkook steps up closer to Mike in a brusque movement, but Jimin’s fast enough to hold him back. At this point, all of his friends have already gotten up from the table, wanting to stop Jungkook from doing anything.

“Shut up, Mike! Let’s go!” Mike’s friends try to stop him as well, trying to drag him away, but even though he’s drunk, he’s still strong enough to stay in place.

“You think I didn’t know, huh, Jungkookie? You think I didn’t know that whenever I was balls deep inside of Y/N you wish it was you? You always wanted to make her scream like a bitch the way I did!”

At this moment, the fear and shame are overwhelmed by anger. Without realizing, you are the one stepping closer, you are the person who Taehyung has to grab the arm in order to stop. “Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!” You hear yourself yelling.

People on the tables around have gotten up - the noise of many chairs scraping the floor getting louder than the worried voices of the people trying to get away from this mess. You hear someone - a guard from the bar, maybe - threatening to call the police, but you can’t pay attention to him.

“Oh, but that’s exactly what you are! A whore!” Mike yells back. “You got so sad that I cheated on you, but haven’t you been doing the same to me?! You think I didn’t see you two inside the car that night?!”

That night… in the car…

Did he... ?

You freeze again when you see Mike pointing at Taehyung.

“Hm, you’re Taehyung, right? Are you dating her now? Well, be aware of her best friend right here, unless you like sharing your girl! But Jungkook likes leftovers, right, Jungk-?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Jimin isn’t strong enough to stop Jungkook from jumping over and landing a punch on Mike’s nose.

There’s yelling and the sound of tables turning as a whole lot of men try to stop the fight and glasses breaking and Jungkook screaming incomprehensible things as he holds Mike’s collar and punches once, twice, three times, and then Mike’s mouth and nose are bleeding, and Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung are trying to get Jungkook off Mike but it seems that not even the three would be enough to stop him.

You’ve never seen Jungkook so mad. It scares you because Mike is too drunk and can’t defend himself - but you’re not scared for Mike, that fucker can die -, you’re scared of what might happen to Jungkook.

So, when Jimin and the others drag Jungkook away as he still tries to free himself violently, you somehow squeeze yourself between them to hold Jungkook’s arm.

“Jungkook, stop!”

The black-haired man looks at you, his eyes red with rage in a way you’ve never seen before.

You didn’t notice that, in your despair, your eyes filled with tears. This is probably what makes Jungkook stop for a moment.

“Enough! I called the police! Everyone out of the bar!”

A siren can be heard from far.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Jimin yells.

Another mess as everyone grabs their things and to try and run out of the bar - even the people that weren’t involved. You see that Mike hasn’t fainted as his friends grab him out of the bar in a rush.

Jungkook has to get out of here, it’s the only thing on your mind. Jungkook thinks the same apparently, because he’s quick to take his bag from the floor and jump over the bar’s fence to the sidewalk. You assumed that he didn’t drive his way here because he knew he would drink - which means he had to run.

Your only instinct is to follow him.

You jump over the fence too, much more clumsily than him. Jungkook is already running down the street.

As you’re about to follow him, you hear someone call your name.

It’s Taehyung.

He’s standing on the sidewalk as customers run out of the bar. And the look on his face crushes your heart.

I am the worst person in the world.

“Y/N, what he said… is it- is it true?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth as if to say something, but nothing coherent comes out of it. The guilt rushes with adrenaline through your veins. You knew he would be hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Taehyung,” is the only thing you can stutter.

You don’t see what face he makes next - both because you can’t take it, and because you’re already turning around and running down the street after Jungkook.

Jungkook is the only thing on your mind.

You can’t let him go away like this.

You run through the busy streets full of bars. As usual, they’re crowded with people. Some of them look at you running like crazy when you pass by, but you can’t stop running because you can still hear the sirens.

Jungkook has some damn long legs. He runs much faster than you and doesn’t even look back. You can barely breathe and your stomach hurts as you unsuccessfully try to catch up to him. You keep running and running and running until you’re on less busier streets, until the bars are left behind and now you’re on a more residential part of the neighbourhood. As Jungkook crosses an almost empty square, you decided that your body can’t take it anymore. You stop gradually, feeling your entire body scream in pain.

“Jungk- Jungkook!” you yell.

The black-haired man finally looks behind his back and sees you; he widens his eyes in surprise and stops.

“Why are you-?”

He doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as the sound of the sirens get closer. You immediately start to run again and this time - instead of running in front of you - Jungkook waits until you get closer to grab your hand, forcing you to run faster. You two cross the square and run into a stair alley with houses on both sides. It’s quiet here. Jungkook crouches down behind a big trash bin, making you crouch down as well.

You both make as much silence as possible (considering you’re both panting heavily), both sweating, and wait until the sounds and lights of the police siren go away.

After maybe five minutes Jungkook gets up again, dropping his backpack on the floor. He cleans the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt; you rest your hands on your legs, trying to recover your breath. Your stomach hurts as if it has been stabbed. Maybe I should start working out.

You notice that Jungkook’s right hand is hurt; his knuckles are swollen and bleeding a little. He frowns in pain as he analyzes it. “You- you’re hurt.” you stupidly stutter. Jungkook shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He says in a low voice. “I said I would beat him up if I saw him…”

Out of instinct you step closer to him, worried, and lift your hands to hold his swollen one.

But Jungkook steps back before you can even touch him. He literally flinched away from you.

It feels like an arrow has just buried itself in your heart.

He’s not looking at you.

“Jungkook-”

“No.” He shakes his head again. He’s breathing heavily as if trying to calm himself down. “Don’t… don’t say anything. Please.”

It’s getting so difficult to breathe. Jungkook puts his hands on each side of his waist, staring at something on the floor - clearly avoiding your pleading gaze.

“But Jungkook, I… you didn’t…” why the hell can’t you speak a coherent sentence anymore? That’s why you followed him all the way. You must make things clear, but seeing his face right now makes you hesitate. Jungkook looks genuinely angry; you’ve never seen him like this, ever.

He throws his head back, looking at the sky, and lets a very dry chuckle past his lips. His expression tells you everything you need to know - he’s tipsy, not entirely drunk.

“You know, I don’t even understand why I’m angry.” You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or to himself. “There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.”

You feel yourself choking on your own words. What does he mean?

“Jungkook, you have to listen to me. I just wanted to talk to Taehyung-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Y/N!” He interrupts and finally gazes you back with bloodshot eyes. “We’re fuck buddies, right? It’s just for fun, right? No real feelings involved. It’s not like we’re supposed to care.”

Tears start to make your sight blurred. Each word of his sound more and more bitter, more sad, more hurt, and it feels like someone has buried the arrow in your heart deeper when you realize that his eyes are getting teary, too.

“Stop saying that. You know it’s not true. You’re the person I care about the most in this world-”

“If you start saying how I’m your best friend I’m leaving you right now.”

You frown and blink, trying to dissipate the tears. “B-But it’s true-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you! Stop acting like you don’t know that already!”

It feels like your brain and your limbs and your lungs stopped working all at once.

Did he… did he just…?

Jungkook exhales heavily. He looks so tired. He rests his back against the wall in front of you, once again avoiding your gaze.

Something tells you that this should have been a happy moment. Deep down, you feel the pure bliss and excitement and it feels like your heart will combust - because you finally heard the words you wanted to hear the most coming directly from his mouth, you finally understood everything; he felt the same, the fucking same.

Yet, all the happiness is being overwhelmed by worry.

You’re watching him intently. You know the man in front of you better than you know yourself. You’ve never seen this expression before - this mix of anger and hurt have never been directed towards you. You’re scared because you don’t know what it implies.

It’s his breaking point.

He might be giving up on you right now.

You don’t know what to say. For a long moment, you just stare at him as he tries to calm himself down - always avoiding your gaze. It seems that words won’t come out of your mouth no matter how hard you try.

“Since when?” is the only thing you can whisper after a long time.

Jungkook shakes his head and lets yet another lifeless chuckle. “I don’t know.” He says in a low, broken voice.

Your fingers are shaking as you close your hands in tight fists. He needs to hear the truth.

“Jungkook.” Yet again, you hesitantly step closer. Your voice is fragile, pleading. “You got it all wrong. Please, you have to listen to me. Today, I-”

“Yeah, I know I got it all wrong from the start.” He interrupts you again. Shut up!, you want to scream. Let me fucking speak!

However, you can’t speak anymore when you notice the tears dripping down his face.

Jungkook is crying.

It’s your fault.

He passes both hands over his face as quickly as the first tears started to fall and sighs heavily. He takes his bag from the floor and shoves it over his shoulder again, turning around before you can see his face again, before you have the chance to say anything.

“I’m going home. You should go home, too.”

And he starts to walk down the stairs way too fast.

Your body is moving before your mind registers and you try to catch up to him. “Jungkook, wait-”

“Don’t.”

Is the only thing he says without looking back.

This makes you stop.

You watch, frozen in place, as he walks down the stairs. You keep your eyes on him as he crosses the empty square again. He’s almost running.

He wants to get away from you as soon as possible.

You know Jungkook too well. You know that, even if you followed him, even if you insisted, he wouldn’t want to hear you anyway. He’d probably despise you even more. This is what made you freeze.

You suddenly feel your legs get weak and sit down on the stair steps. Not only your legs, actually. All of your limbs feel heavy.

You don’t remember the last time you cried like this. The unstoppable tears just coming and coming and the sobs barely let you breathe.

You’re crying because you’re ashamed of what just happened at the bar - how Mike made you feel humiliated in front of all those people. You’re guilty because you weren’t honest with Taehyung and now there’s no way back - you let him believe in whatever he wanted to believe instead of making things clear, and now he’s hurt.

And the worst of all.

You’ve been hurting Jungkook so bad for so long without realizing. You hurt the person you cared about the most.

All of it is your fault.

God, it hurts so much.

You know Jungkook too well. He’s the person that has been always there with you for better or for worse. You always knew you’d have each other’s backs no matter what happens; he’s a part of you, the most important, most precious part of you.

This time, you genuinely don’t know what will happen from now on.

This time... you don’t know if Jungkook will ever forgive you.

#btswriterscollective #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened.

length: 4.7 words

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture.

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen.

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand.

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him.

He threw your pen at you.

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours.

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though.

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing.

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke.

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver.

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead.

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine.

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago.

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives.

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact.

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much.

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours.

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said.

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND.

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life.

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by.

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?”

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then.

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before.

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock.

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time.

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile, and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly.

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit.

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it.

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text.

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do.

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark.

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder.

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table.

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug.

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock.

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again.

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking.

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted.

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?”

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that.

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018.

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores.

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.”

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you.

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have.

#cait writes things #brock boeser #brock boeser fic #brock boeser imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #brock boeser fanfic #vancouver canucks fanfic

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vtforpedro · 4 years

Text

First Line Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. tagged by @curiousartemis thank yoooou. oh boy here we go come rain or come shine (Steve/Bucky) Steve doesn’t know when he started sketching Bucky’s eyes. Maybe that time they were sitting in his bedroom and Steve was leaned back against the wall, his sketch pad on his bony knees, and Bucky was at the end of the bed. Arm on the windowsill, looking out into a hazy morning, smog covering the early sunshine. winter wonderland (Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench) Numbers doesn’t believe in fate, destiny or chance. He doesn’t believe that some things are just meant to be. Fates colliding, destinies intertwining, or, heaven forbid, God’s will. An odd coincidence here and there and being in the right place at the right time, sure, but not that there is anything in this world that’s ever up to a higher power’s influence. sweetheart like you (Credence Barebone/Percival Graves) Credence knows a lot of people. His work lends itself to meeting new people all the time, all over the world, from photographers to agents to makeup artists to fans. There are always new faces in his life, and Credence doesn’t remember most of them because he has a poor memory, but he does remember the people that stand out the most. emotionally yours (Credence/Graves) The summer of 1919 was one of Credence’s best. It was a mere six months after he’d finally escaped the clutches of his mother. He was finished with Ilvermorny and simply hadn’t gone back home but had gone to live with his friend in Upstate New York. love sick (Credence/Graves) If Credence is grateful for anything, he’s grateful for the summer months. He’s twenty-eight years old and working full time in a MACUSA-owned potions brewery. He brews rare potions and aids in research for experimental potions that one day might cure things such as lycanthropy or eradicate dragon pox, so it’s never seen in the world again. under your spell (Credence/Graves) Graves’ department doesn’t often get called in for magical animal activity, whether a death has been involved or not. There are other departments for it, and it’s unusual to get a request for aid from them. But after a third death Upstate in the Debar Mountain Wild Forest in as many days, for what is suspected human activity, the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures asks the Auror department to step in. While they suspect humans are killing witches and wizards, they have never seen anything like it before, only referring to it as werewolf-like but not done by werewolves. bound to lose, bound to win (Credence/Graves) There is no particular just like any other day in the Auror department in MACUSA. Each day can be drastically different than the one before it, from being stuck inside all day with paperwork and meetings, to planning and carrying out raids, to emergencies that take them out into the field unexpectedly. automaton (Credence/Graves) Percival Graves was born in the year 2287, son of a Congressman and robotics designer. His father, Silas Graves, was well known for his harsh politics in an already harsh political climate, in favor of more control over the people the way it used to be, rather than the free society they lived in now. let it be me (Credence/Graves) Credence has been acting since he was fourteen years old. His mother, once he’d hit a six inch growth spurt, decided his face was good enough to try out for commercials or small roles. can’t escape from you (Credence/Graves) Vampires. Credence has known very little else in his life. He vaguely remembers that his mother used to talk about witches when he was young, younger than seven or eight. He didn’t understand then, didn’t understand where witches were or why his mother despised them. maybe you’ll be there (Credence/Graves) It’s a cold day in Stranraer, grey clouds overhead, promising rain this evening. The smell of brine is strong here, as Graves stands on the edge of a pier, leaning against a wooden post and looking out over the sea. as i went out one morning (Credence/Graves) When Graves had been taken out of that hole in the ground, weak and malnourished, near death, he had thought life would never be the same for him. dear landlord (Credence/Graves) Credence has been living in the same apartment for the last three years now. He has two roommates, a couple, the same two who had been happy to have him come in when he was two years into his degree at NYU. The first six months with them had been fine besides some cleanliness issues, but it had all gone downhill after that. At a slow pace but downhill nonetheless, with random parties or smoking enough weed inside the apartment that he’d eventually had to threaten leaving because his clothes were starting to smell like it. Cleanliness also took a nose dive and when one of them lost their job, rent was harder to make every month. had a dream about you, baby (Credence/Graves) Credence is eight years old when he has the first dream. It’s a strange dream, where he appears on a grassy hillside, nothing but miles and miles of rolling hills and lakes laid out before him. There’s a towering oak tree nearby and he sits in its shade and looks at leaves on the ground. let’s stick together (Credence/Graves) Credence has lived in Manhattan for twenty-seven years and though it is the busiest, most populated city in the country, not much happens anymore these days to surprise him. simple twist of fate (Credence/Graves) Credence has known tough times in his life. Living under Ma’s rule until he was thirteen and called CPS himself one night, taken away and thrust into the foster care system without knowing what that really meant for him. see that my grave is kept clean (Credence/Graves) Graves leads a raid in mid-January. It’s bitter and cold, snow piled up over the property of a large manor. It looks abandoned but they’ve known for some time that it isn’t. a sunday kind of love (Credence/Graves) Credence sits in the sprawling cafeteria in MACUSA with a chicken salad sandwich, a cup of fresh fruit, and a glass of pomegranate juice. His hour-long lunch break has just started and he’s glad to get away from Mister Ibex’s office. He likes his boss just fine, but the closer it gets to Quidditch season, the more irate he gets about everyone doing their jobs wrong - except you, Credence, he always adds kindly - and he uses his lunch breaks to escape. nevertheless (i’m in love with you) (Credence/Graves) It’s a week before Halloween in Ilvermorny and the castle already has a colony of live bats living on the ceiling in the Great Hall. Their droppings are thankfully charmed to disappear through a barrier a few feet below them but Percy Graves finds them irritating when they start to fly around in cloud-like formations. ain’t no man righteous, no not one (Credence/Graves) Credence gets the message from a Patronus while he’s sitting in bed, reading a book, to come downstairs because there’s work for him. He watches the raven disappear from the end of his bed and sighs, in relief and resignation both. --- alright!!! so I’ve learned I have a bad habit of starting with one simple line of ~feeling or description~ that’ll be explained in the following paragraphs. but I doubt it’ll change my writing haha it was nice walking through these fics tho. they weren’t posted all that long ago but it gave me The Nostalgia™ kind of glad it wasn’t all just credence/graves tbh but it makes me laugh there’s no bilbs and his dratted dwarf considering I have more fics posted for them than anyone else! but I’m at 79 fics and working on my 80th fic to publish so, oh my god. never thought I’d post this much when I first started writing fic! I feel like I should celebrate or something my fave one has to be the second one, a Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench fic from Fargo season one c: hey you. if you’ve read this far, guess what? you’re officially tagged and I want to see your fics’ first lines pls and thank you c:

#vtforpedro writes #tag game #long post #going from what i know is a super fluffy fic to mcd to fluffy again gives me whiplash

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midnight-writ3r · 5 years

Text

A big heart

Lee Minho x Genderneutral reader

Summary: On a stormy day, your boyfriend Minho comes home with a little surprise.

A/N: Actually writing this with a kitten interrupting me every few seconds, is less fun than it sounds. I'm kidding of course, it's the best thing ever :') she keeps tapping my screen and looking what I'm doing. TT

The problem is for whatever reason, I suddenly went into hard Stan mode halfway through writing HAHAHA how to deal with Lee Minho? :((

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're at your third cup of coffee, the clicking of your computer's keyboard mixing with the steady sound of a storm from outside. You eye the window behind your desk. Raindrops are curling their paths down the pane, as if racing each other. The sky outside is a dull grey that seems almost white and another thunder rolls through the city.

When the clock on your screen hits 5 pm, you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. Minho should be back from campus by now. His classes ended one and a half hour ago and usually, the trip back to your shared apartment only takes around 30 minutes.

What if he had gotten into an accident, because of the rain? Or perhaps he had just decided to wait the storm out in a cafe? Your mind is beginning to run in circles of worry. He hasn't even answered any of the messages you sent.

However, just when you contemplate sending your twentieth text, the doorbell rings. You race to the entrance door at an embarrassing speed. Sure enough, when you open it, there is a drenched Minho, dripping all over the door matt.

His hair is clumped in wet strands and the top of his clothes is a few shades darker than the original colour. There is something strange about the imagine though. You are sure that he had taken a raincoat along, when he left this morning and you are right. Yet, instead of wearing the piece, he has it balled up in his arms. And over all of it, instead of looking annoyed, he practically beams at you.

Minho barely ever showcases delight like this, except when it comes to you. The only time you had seen him wear an expression so soft and loving, was when the two of you had exchanged I love you's for the first time, or whenever you made love.

It has become something for your eyes only.

But you find the source of his happiness in the ominous bundle, he carries. The raincoat gives a pathetic little mewl and your eyes widen.

"Minho, what is that?"

He tries to suppress his smile, "A raincoat?"

You give him a deadpan expression, "and what is INSIDE the raincoat?"

"Drugs?" The raincoat mewls again, "Look I couldn't just leave it there."

"It?"

At that moment, a tiny paw crawls out of the raincoat. It's tugging the fabric out of the way, as if to peak. Beyond that, the most precious sight you've ever seen reveals itself.

A kitten with a broad face and a beautiful pattern blinks up at the two of you. Big, eyes reflect you in the richest green you've ever seen. Minho seems absolutely enraptured, holding it carefully.

"oh my god." you gasp. After a second, you rip out of your stupor and tug at Minho's arm, "Come on inside, you'll get a cold."

Complying quickly, your boyfriend slips past you and you close the door. Before you can refuse, there is a wet bundle in your arms and Minho runs to the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes.

Stunned, you walk to the couch and sit down, admiring the little creature in your arms. It's shaking badly and, despite Minho's coat, it's quite wet. Caring little at this point, you unwrap it and exchange the coat for the next blanket in your reach. There's another mewl, but after a few breaths, the shaking stops.

Minho comes back from the bathroom with sweats and a towel on his head. He didn't even bother putting on a shirt, in his hurry to come back. You have to hold back a laugh at that.

"How is she?" he asks, sitting next to you.

You lean your head on his shoulder, scratching the kitten behind its ear, "Better I think. We should try to keep her warm." you pause and then ask: "Where did you find her?"

"Around campus actually." he says, "She was hiding beneath a couple of bushes. No collar, no mom, no nothing. I think she got abandoned by her mother."

"That's terrible."

"It's probably because of her eye." Minho points at the kitten's left eye. When you look closer, you notice how it's a little more milky than the other, "It's half blind, probably couldn't keep up with the rest of the family."

You pout, "Poor thing. What are we gonna do?"

Minho hesitates with his answer, bottom lip between his teeth. He eyes you like a school boy, about to ask for candy, even tho he isn't sure he deserves it.

"We could just... Keep her?"

You stare at him, "Min, we live on instant ramen and ready-made sandwiches. How are we supposed to take care of a cat?"

"I'm sure we can do it. Together, we're a great team!" when he sees the sceptical look on your face, he leans in and kisses your neck, muttering: "Please."

You giggle, when he actually starts to nip at you in earnest, "I don't know, I might need a little more convincing?"

Grinning, he caputes your lips in a deep kiss. You're surprised with the passion and fire behind that kiss and, something about it tells you, that this really is important to Minho. You kiss him back for a little and when you draw back, you're actually panting.

"Fine." you mumble, "She needs a litter box and food and a bed though." you think some more, "and a name."

Minho is already squealing, pressing more kisses to your neck and cheek, while wrapping his arms around you. Then, he pulls back and looks at the kitten.

You see it in the way his lips curl, when he finally thinks of something: "Charlie."

"Alright Charlie." you lift the kitten up to your face and it curiously sniffles your nose, "Welcome to the Lee family. It's a great honour to be here, you know? Good thing your daddy is so cute without his shirt."

Minho hums and looks at you, "Good thing Y/N has such a big heart."

-*- FIN -*-

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rosenpacht · 5 years

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Is Jaehyun Really an ENFJ?

This is a long explanatory post, so watch out!

A lot of people say that Jaehyun is an ENFJ (well, at least from a couple of sites that I’ve read). At first, I’m like, OMG Jaehyun is such a sweetheart in real life because ENFJ is known for their sweet and caring personalities. BUT. I cannot find an ENFJ trait in Jaehyun… don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that he’s not a sweetheart or a gentleman—I’m sure he is. It’s just it’s not easy to see the primary function of an ENFJ on him.

So, what do I think Jaehyun is? I think Jaehyun is an ESTP or ESFP (although I’m more convinced that he’s an ESTP). Here’s why I think so…

Now, let’s take look at the cognitive functions of the type. There are 8 cognitive functions in total, but I’m not gonna explain it all. I’m just gonna talk about the PRIMARY FUNCTION, which is the first cognitive function. The primary function can be easily seen or spotted in a person, because it is a way that a person naturally behaves or act day to day, in other words, subconsciously. It cannot be forced, cannot be acted out, and it may be exhausting if you try to do so.

Now, let’s get to ESTP/ESFP. These types has a EXTROVERTED SENSOR (SE) as the primary function. It means that these types mainly perceives the world with their five senses (sights, sounds, smells, touches, tastes). They are usually susceptive of these…elements? They are even so aware of their body that they can immediately tell if something was wrong with the way they breathe of the way they walk. That being said, I’ve concluded a couple of traits from these types (based on what I’ve read).

An SE primary is usually athletic, because they like to do things with immediate action. And what better things other than sports? They are most likely to do sports/physical activites, regardless of how well they do in that field. Basketball, mountain climbing, soccer, or just simple exercises. And they love it. Now, we all know that Jaehyun is good at sports, and I don’t need to mention what sports because it’s just simply too many. And it comes effortless to him (watch NCT LIFE in Chungcheon and Hongcheon) and he’s passionate about it. And, let’s not talk about that workout video and one with him showing off his abs, okay? I can’t.....

An SE, I’ve figured, also enjoys tasting things—foods, drinks, everything. They enjoy food just for the sake of its taste, and it makes them happy and keep them going. It’s like a recharge for them. It’s not that they are a binge eater or anything, it’s just that the feel of flavors on their tongue is satisfying to them. And they’re almost a non picky eater. And as we can see, Jaehyun LOOVESSS eating. He says “I workout so I can eat more” that kinda sums it all. There are numerous videos of him enjoying eating. While others eat passionately too, I feel like Jaehyun particularly loves to eat more than anybody else, because at some point, they said that he was on a diet(?) and I just think that’s how much he eats…..

An SE is also usually a quick learner in a learning by doing kind of way. As a result, we all know that Jaehyun is a main vocalist, and also one of the lead dancers in NCT. Now, he’s the main vocalist, that’s undeniable. As for dancing, he’s almost—ALMOST always in the center, or at least the front row. And when they have like dance groups for like shows or something, he is almost always included. But, they never really acknowledge him as the MAIN dancer, different from Taeyong or Ten or Yuta or Johnny for that matter. That, to me, shows that he’s probably not necessarily the MAIN, but he’s just so good at it that they keep putting him in the dance line. Now compared to Doyoung, who’s also really good at dancing (he’s in the front line a couple of times), Jaehyun still gets to be in the dance line much more than Doyoung does. No tea no shade, tho, they’re both good, but I think that shows that Jaehyun is somehow a valuable dancer.

Anyways. That one fact is debatable actually, that’s just my analysis.

Moving on. An SE is also very actual. In a sense that they see the world as it is, as what’s in front of them. They don’t dwell on imaginary things, they don’t really seek the meaning behind things, black is black, white is white. They don’t like grey things. And they are very present. It’s almost like what matters is today, and tomorrow is just another day. Now this one is kinda debatable also, but I really think that Jaehyun has this traits. Like when you see all of his interviews, he’s almost always talking about the present time. I’m gonna give you some quote:

Zach Sang Podcast Interview (you can see it on youtube or on spotify)

Q: “How do you guys measure success?”

JH: “I still think that we’re on a journey, for example like if we have another tour, then that’s our next success, if we have a bigger stage, then it’s our next success. But I think that we’re still on a journey and ENJOYING it.” He’s explaining how he sees the success right NOW. Meanwhile Yuta’s answer was more of how he used to see ‘success’ when he was younger is different than he does right now.

Q: “How does ‘global’ influences your life, being surrounded by different cultures all the time?”

JH: “I’m always thankful for having a lot of opportunity to go all around the world, it’s a very special thing to go all around the world and meet different cultures and be connected by music.” He’s explaining what he feels when he goes on tour or meet fans from another side of the world. Meanwhile Mark’s answer was more about how the group is already ‘global’ and that makes them diverse and learn from each other. Mark is like explaining the story of their group.

And there’s one question about what is the advice that you remember the most. And Jaehyun’s answer is his parents’ advice, telling him to enjoy his life everyday and keep being grateful and stuff. And the fact that he chose this as his answer means that he remembers it the most.

And there’s another question that I don’t quite remember, but his answer was that he was quite disappointed that he doesn’t get to enjoy the cities that he visits because he’s there for like a couple days for work and then go to another place. It tells me that Jaehyun likes to enjoy the places that he visits, and that he probably likes to travel a lot.

But I can’t pinpoint if he’s a T or F, because the second and third function determine this one. And it’s a function that is not easily shown, like you have to see the REAL him or get him to show it consciously, and I’m trying to look into that tho, like watching his videos and stuff.

Again, this is all debatable. But I feel like the SE side of Jaehyun is just easily palpable. Meanwhile, an ENFJ has an EXTROVERTED FEELING (FE) as their primary function. And I don’t really see that trait in Jaehyun’s visible personality.

SO, what do you guys think? This is me, tho.

#Jaehyun #JaehyunMBTI #jeong jaehyun #NCTthoughts #NCTMBTI #NCT127 #my uncommon thoughts on NCT #NCT Thoughts #nct 127 #jaehyun scenarios

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bugaboowritings · 4 years

Text

Cameras and Dead News - Emilie Agreste Is Missing - Fic

Adrien is Rocking Some Shades From The ‘90s.

I got the idea from a post, that I can’t find- lucky me. But basically, Gabriel doesn’t go out after Emilie’s death/disappearance so the paparazzi couldn’t ask him questions. Do you guys know who still leaves the house tho... Adrien.

Just imagine how that would go. A kid missing his mom, forced to hear questions about her disappearance.

(Found the post, it was @chloe-is-a-lesbeean. Buzz Buzz, Bitches --> the post)

hope everyone is alright as we handle these COVID-19 shutdowns.

-----

“Damn,” The young flim-maker sighed before folding the newspaper in his hands.

His lips pursed together in thought, not knowing how to feel or to even believe what he was reading. All while he sat in a cafe, one that’s tucked under the shade of another building, his friend gladly munched on the breakfast they ordered. He hasn’t touched his plate since he got there and the other has been debating with their wallet if they should order another coffee for the trip back to the studio. Idly slouching on the bean-bag as he sat rigid against his wooden chair, gripping the paper in his hand.

He’s a small artist in the north of town, who sleeps on his friend’s couch because art doesn’t sell, not at a price that will pay for rent, only for that of a good breakfast and lost dinner. Only known underground for his camera and his good eye for color, but never really having any real connections to the silver screen nor the crowds usually involved painting on it, but he was one of the many victims that a certain star carried her influence over. You had to be living under a rock to not know the blonde, the one who fostered a new generation of artists under her wing and films.

Even though this director didn’t know her personally, it didn’t stop the heavy stiffness from setting gently on his chest. Wondering if he should even take this headline to heart.

Hell, he’s unsure if what he was reading was even true or just another clickbait story. Shaking off the bitter feelings just in case this was fake. A stunt pulled by some hot-shot manager or rowdy marketing team.

If so, it’s utter bullshit to write an article like that just to sell crates full of print.

It wasn’t until his friend noticed the cold and untouched coffee, that they raised their eyebrow and nodded their head to him to speak up. Yet, the director didn’t talk, only giving a heavy sigh before passing the newspaper down. They, an able writer and a genuine friend willing to give up a couch, hastily sucked the syrup off their fingers and wiped their sticky hands on their loose denim jeans before taking the press in their hand.

Licking the sweet cream off their lips from their breakfast before staring hard at the page.

Suddenly that bagel on the white clean platter didn’t seem so appetizing. The cream cheese turned bland and the orange juice after-taste went sour and disgusted their taste buds.

“. . .Wow.”

Quickly after that, the two flipped to the main article inside. Scanning the black text to see if this could even be true. Their fingers pinched the press a little tighter as their hands got clammy. Swiftly scanning to see if there was any reason to believe the bold headline that was selling fast in Paris.

EMILIE AGRESTE MISSING A STAR NOW DIMMING...?

From her famous production skills to her unforgettable acting, along with her hand in public service with the Mayor and to aid the City of Paris, her strong love for the arts and her endless funding for them, and her infinite support towards the young creators in Paris- Emilie Agreste was famous and known around for not only her marriage but her character.

She’s the very reason that so many got their chance and felt like they could make it in a field that seemed impossible to touch.

Agreste, along with being caring, she was talented in so many ways. She had the audience in the palm of her hand when she played the sickly lover to the crazed workaholic on the screen. When she shed a tear, the spectators wept with her. When she smiled, the world seemed fine and the sun always shined. When she sighed at the sky, people wondered what she was daydreaming about. Her name was used in tv shows and other movies, as an homage to her and to her fame.

The blonde really was Paris’ muse.

Emilie Agreste, an icon that was thought to never fade from the minds of Parisians or from their headlines.

This proved more true when people just wanted to know more as the news traveled further and further in France. All everyone wanted to hear, read, or watch were the updates on this case or the basic details that the public has access to.

Where was her last known location?

What could be the cause of this?

Why did this happen?

How could this happen in the first place?

Then the one that astonished everyone.

Where is she now?

‘What happened to Emilie Agreste?’ became the most searched thing in Paris in under 24 hours.

The world faced the media for answers and clarification, but they too were speechless. Even the journalists notorious for finding the small secrets from cheating scandals, friendship drama, secret pregnancies or always managed to know an inside-source for everything—

They too came dry.

Not with a drop of gossip or a hint of rumors.

All that there was, was the police report filed days ago by her husband, who seems to disappear from the public eye as his wife did from the earth.

Calls to interview him went unanswered. Emails for a comment on this situation got clicked and dragged to the trash bin. Cameras that waited outside the mansion, like starving lions waiting for the picture-perfect prey, only got a snap of the maids taking out the trash. The Agreste fashion-shows, ones that were planned months ago, were canceled the day before they took place. The spring collection had to be pushed back before releasing the photos to the magazines weeks later.

No one could get the details of Parisian Darling and that didn’t change no matter how much the reporters bid for the voices of assistants and maids to speak on the matter.

The only person out in public and with a tight connection with the Agreste was Emilie’s one and only child.

Adrien Agreste.

Blossoming model to the Agreste Brand a few months back and the only Agreste that would step out to the sun to go to his fencing lesson and photoshoots. The reason the gates opened again was to only to let in his Chinese tutors or piano instructor. Then, the gates would shut again when he stayed in his rooms for hours on end. Not really a public face until his father released his anticipated winter collection last year, all with the teen as the front cover of every fashion magazine advertising it.

And man, was it well received.

There were times where Adrien had to be shielded from the press by his bodyguards to get to his fencing competition. Deciding early on to take his Chinese lessons at home instead of going off to the university for his studies when he got pestered by hidden paparazzi and nosey students.

Reporters, photographers, and the curious were hot on his heels as they shouted things to make him turn around, to get a reaction. Anything to make their salary bigger. Anything to put on a tabloid. Anything to print on the press. Anything to get something that sells.

“Is your mother dead?”

“Is it true that there is a ransom note at Emilie’s last known location?”

“Do you think your mother left with her own will and didn’t disappear?”

“Adrien, do you think that your mother left willing or is this just a stunt for the new film with Grand-”

“-How is your father dealing with this situation?”

“ADRIEN, turn around! Tell the public what they were waiting to hear!”

“Is Gabrial Agreste so disheartened that he can’t step out? Should we still expect the fall collection with-”

“What is the police saying about your mother’s case?”

“Are there any new leads about her disappearance?”

“Adrien, what do you think of this situation?!”

The heir to the Agreste Brand, the name and legacy stopped in his tracks on the stone staircase.

It’s a sunny morning out, so his hair managed to glimmer nicely thanks to the sun’s rays. It was also an excuse to wear sunglasses, to pull a curtain over his face so no one could dare to notice how much he wanted to cry. Covering the bags under his eyes and shielding them away from the bright lights since his eyes got more delicate the longer he went without sleep.

But no one would see that. All they would point out would be the fact his shades are his dad’s old collection from the ’90s.

They wouldn’t see how he picks his lips because he can’t tap his toes against the marble floors in his house without creating an echo that makes him feel more alone.

But no one would see that. They would just ask what his lip care routine or if he used any innovative k-beauty products to keep them that shade of pinky-red or that glossy. Totally not the ointment that keeps them from bleeding.

He would come to practice in all grey or wear minimalistic clothes because he doesn’t want to think about how to match the patterns or the fact it felt so wrong being so bitter when wearing mustard yellow or baby blue.

But no one would notice the reason for his monochrome wardrobe and call it a new style for the summer.

Taking little ways he showed his grief when everyone seemed to move too fast. Adrien barely felt the ground under his feet as Natalie changed the times for his lunch again to fit another appointment and meeting.

Processing the last time he saw his mom before he got asked for another interview on her disappearance.

How the little interactions and moments popped into his head only to taunt him. The way she stirred her tea, how she comforted him that one time he fell on the concrete, how she always got a plate of cut fruit for him when he was studying, then how she winked at him and said, “Let me talk to your father. He’ll come around,” whenever Adrien asked to go out but there was some hesitation, or how his mother managed to make even the scariest things seem not so scary in the end.

So to answer that question, he didn’t know.

Everything was growing out of place in his life but it was in an excepted way. His father was never a man of conversation but became one secluded in isolation without his mother pulling him in with her words out of his cave and keeping him sitting by the dinner table. Adrien didn’t even know if his father locked himself in his large office and buried himself in work or if he still in his parent’s room- trying to process what’s going on. Adrien has been out of the house so much that he doesn’t even know if he left his bedroom the way it is or the maids cleaned up when he was gone, not knowing if his game is still paused at this point.

It also just hit him on that nice, sunny day that he may have lost the ability to say ‘parents’ when only one is currently at home.

As hungry reporters encroached the teen, Gorilla shoved them back and away. Setting his palm on the young Agreste’s back to urge him to keep moving. Only getting a nod, letting a few seconds pass before he hurried up the staircase and into his lessons.

#little ice angst #fic #my fic #ml fic #My writing #my writings #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #gabriel agreste #backstory fic #sad Mama drama #hope you guys are safe and good during this time

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oneshotnewbie · 5 years

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Can you do a oneshot where Kara is tidying b!d's room because it's a mess and the younger one promised she would tidy it herself when she comes home from university but Kara wants to take it in her hands since she has superspeed and b!d would be too tired. She finds a letter to Jeremiah even tho he is gone for years now and she opens and read it? She starts crying and then Akex comes home and comforts her?

Words: 1.796

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The once neatly tidy and always decent big room of yours, with its own little bathroom and a small balcony overlooking the National City Park was now a mess since you started to go to the medical school and you didn’t have the time and energy to clean it up.

Every time you promised Kara and Alex, yours sisters with whom you were living with, to clean your room when you got home but you never made your promise real. The constant tests you needed to learn for or the homework you had to do for the next day got in your way.

You were not lazy, on the contrary. You kept trying to put the things back from where you took them out, trying to create order, if only piece by piece and even if you were only at the desk and in bed, mountains full of things stacked in spite.

At some point it was enough for Kara. Not because she got angry, no. She was crazy about tidiness and nothing could be cleaner that it already was and she saw how done you were after you came home from school. You didn’t allow her to take it into her hands. After all, it was your four walls.

Nevertheless she did it anyway. She felt it was right. Not because she was your sister and wanted to relieve you of a burden but because she had super speed and it would be much easier for her than you had to fight through it.

She started with you freshly laundered clothes that were stacked on your couch. Carefully the blonde ordered everything in your closet, ironed the shirts and blouses you mostly needed for meetings before she also hung them in the closet. Your dirty laundry that you had accumulated in your hamper, she flew up to the bathroom and threw it directly into the washing machine.

Once again arrived downstairs, she put your make-up that you used every day in your vanity cabinet and cleaned the wide full-body mirror, wisely to not tear down the photos of you and your sisters and friend that hung on it.

The pillows on your couch were again carefully lined up next to each other and had the kind in the middle of them formed in a kind of heart, it was always Kara’s symbol.

Kara continued with the desk, where she cleaned only the vacancies because she was afraid to throw you off the train of learning. Papers lay on piled over books and all sorts of highlighters lay scattered on the table. Where you the only one who had a look through this chaos.. As you always said to your sisters, ‘it was an organized mess’. Even Kara had no idea how you managed it.

The energy cans and empty coffee cups found their way into the trash and into the sink. Once flown back up to the bedroom, she picked up your new favourite bedding and sheets and covered your bed with it, hoping you wouldn’t be mad at her doing that for you.

Just as she was about to lift the mattress to put the bed sheets over the corners, a letter you had recently hidden between the slatted frame and the mat you wanted that no one ever saw, flew right towards her and stopped by her feet.

Of course, Kara had immediately stopped her work and sat down on the unfinished bed. She wrestled with herself, refusing to open this letter and snooping around in your privacy but got more tensed as she turned the letter over and the name of your father appeared on the white rectangular envelope with thick black letters.

You were just like Alex, couldn’t handle it when he disappeared until today. Your sisters were older than you and understood earlier what happened, but you still didn’t. Nightmares still plagued you and many times you were still seen floating in the thought that he would come back. You always covered the table for one more person when it came to family events; the sock with the “J” was still waiting at the fireplace every time before Christmas. You were still buying presents for him and every time your hoped that he would be standing at the door on your birthday or sending you a card.

But that was never the case.

Everyone knew how much you fought day after day; everyone looked at your agony and the eyes that were red the morning after a night of mourning to ask God to bring him back to you. And you knew that Kara had heard everything every time. But nobody said anything anymore.

Your sisters had tried several times to talk to you about it, but you locked yourself away from them when the topic came to the surface again.

With shaky hands she opened the envelope after all. Some notes with your writing were pulled out and she took another breath, wondered if she really did the right thing before she readjusted her glasses and decided to read the letter.

“Dear Dad,I miss you so much.There are so many things I would say to you now, especially as I would like to hug you again and get your warmth and everyday kisses on the cheek. I have managed to live my dream, daddy. I am officially a medicine student; do you remember when I first told you about it? I was sitting on your lap with my broken doll, watching you fix her with all the stuff you could get in your garage. I hope you’re proud of me for making it all, even though I was hoping you would be there and walk me through all of it.. Alex and Kara are fine, they take good care of me and are the best sisters I could wish for. They support me wherever they can. Apropos, did you know that Alex is now the director of the DEO? Unbelievable but I am so proud of her! And Kara? She has won the politzer and has become a wonderful reporter with her own flesh and blood interspersed with everything she does. I’m so proud of her too!Dad, there are so many things I want to tell you. But my head is so full of thoughts and my heart is so heavy with feelings and I don’t think I could ever talk about it with both of them. Not that I don’t trust them, they just have so much to do and I don’t want to lose Alex in this down spiral when she needs to face your disappearance again. It was so hard to help her get out of the first one and it almost costed us our relationship.I cry a lot and every time I hope that you will dry my tears but you can’t see them. Going on without you is a nightmare. Your strength has been my strength so far and your advice has been my help. But now you’re gone. I miss you but I know that you are well where you are now and that you take good care for yourself. After all you have done for your family and you had to go through, you have earned your peace. Recently I painted a picture of you with the technique you once taught me. I hope you like it.I want to give you my promise that I will take care of the people you love and make sure that this family stays together in your interest. I want to thank you for your unique love, which I will never again experience in this form. She was one of the best gifts in my life. Thank you, for everything. I love you. Your little Y/N.”

With a sob, she flipped over to the next letter and looked at the picture you had previously mentioned. She was sure that you had used the charcoal pencils that Jeremiah gave you years ago when you started to draw more and more pictures in your free time.

The individual lines of your father’s potion, which you made from his profile, and the shades and floods of grey/black shades that blended into each other made a beautiful picture and she was amazed at the progress you made in drawing.

She put the papers on her lap and let the tears run wild. She knew that you didn’t feel well about your dad and there were often days when you wanted to be alone and not talk to anyone, but she didn’t know that it was so stressful for you.

“Kara? Kara, where are you?” the blonde heard a dark and rough voice before she wiped away her tears and looked up. She saw the redhead who was walking through the door and more tears started to fall.

“Y/N will kill you if she sees you clean- What’s going on? What happened?” she asked in shock, immediately dropping her bag to her feet before kneeling in front of Kara and putting her arm on her legs.

But the once so though and young woman didn’t answer, just held the papers in front of the older sisters face and buried hers in her hands as Alex took the letters away from her.

She scanned this briefly; her eyes reflected the tears she tried to suppress. Your words reminded her so much of her own words she tried to find for all of her pain and it hurt even more knowing that you had to go through it too. She readjusted herself, recently sitting on her knees she was now in a cross-legged position.

Instantly Alex threw the letters on the floor when loud and terrible sobs came from her opposite. Her arms supported her and she stood in less than a few seconds in front of Kara, putting both hands over Kara’s head and pulling her to her stomach. The blonde clasped her tightly and buried her face in the red-heads shirt. Again and again Alex stroked the back of the young alien and tried to calm her down.

But nothing seemed to help until the older one broke away from her and took her up, carrying her to the couch and laying her down on it while she also lay down next to her and pulled Kara over to her.

Kara listened to the older woman’s heartbeat and calmed herself down slowly as she followed her thoughts and enjoyed the closeness of her sister.

She was grateful to Alex that she understood without words and didn’t force her to speak. Was the disappearance of Jeremiah also an open gaping wound for her? She knew that she would wait until she opened herself, ready to talk everything.

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found-in-another-me · 5 years

Text

BACK IN BLACK - Tony Stark x Reader

This is so Fifty Shades of Grey and I'm honestly sorry for it. Thank you for your support, it means a lit to me! I got ask for a tag list and... I can add you if you want. Just leave a dm or a comment. Or leave some support in general.

Actually I don't like that "sugar daddy" stuff but it fits so much into the story, I had to use it. And I already have ideas how the reader can deal with the decision. Stay tuned!

Warnings: mention of sex?? Sexual tension?? Language?? Idk tho, I will add if something triggers you.

Taglist: @tiphareth2018

Chapter 3 - an arrangement

„See you on Monday!“ You said with a cheering voice as you left the building. Finally your work was over and now you just had to survive a simple date. In your thoughts this constantly looked like a war where you had to win, but actually it was just having a drink together. Why would he want to meet you? You waited at the front door, when suddenly a black car parked right before you. When the window drove down, you could see Tony, wearing his sunglasses. Slowly he turned his head into your direction, his glasses slowly drifting down his nasal bone, to take a proper look at you.

„Not the kind of clothes I’m used to see, when I go on a… how did you call it again? A ‚date’“ he smirked at you. „I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, my workplace doesn’t allow me to wear slutty outfits, you're usually used to.“ You gave him the friendliest smile and he just shook his head, grinning. Seemed like it was him who gave you the biggest confidence boost, without even noticing. „Would you finally join me? It's getting lonely in here.“ That was, when you got around to sit into the car, right next to him on the back seat. This man had everything he needed, so why would he want to see you again? „Well, Mr. Stark…“ you started. „I hope I don't bore you this time.“ – „Oh, darling, if you only knew how interesting this interview was.“ You cocked an eyebrow at him, not sure if he was serious or just sarcastic. Usually you were able to spot the difference, but this man wasn't the open book he seemed to be. „I see. So we can talk more about your success?“ You asked carefully, trying to figure out where the limits were. „I don’t mind talking about myself, you probably know.“ He was the complete opposite of you. Self-confident and he loved himself more than anyone else. He probably looked into the mirror ten times a day. If you only had the same confidence as him.

He shrugged and looked at you. „I brought you some clothes, if you want to change them.“ Once again you cocked an eyebrow at him. „Would they even fit? Because if that's the case I would call you a stalker, Mr. Stark.“ On his own way he was some kind of a gentleman, but sadly not the typical one you always dreamed of when you were younger. He just started laughing at your comment, even though he knew it could be true. Yes, maybe he stalked you a little. Maybe he wanted to get to know you better while you’re so distant. The thought of this made your cheeks blush immediately. Slowly it got quiet again, before he cleared his throat. „Bold of you to assume I would only meet up with prostitutes.“ – „Bold of you to assume I would need your money to buy me clothes.“ Suddenly he just stared at you for a moment. Was he nervous? For some reason he really seemed to be. You tilted your head to the side, questioning the expression on his face. „Mr. Stark, this was supposed to be a joke… you know?“ not that you wanted his money, actually it didn’t even matter if he was rich or not, on the inside you were just happy to be with him again. He wasn’t as intimidating as before, which made it easier to stay cool.

„Good, because I wouldn’t know how to start what I actually got in mind for both of us.“ He shook his head, sighing in relief. „Oh please, don’t tell me this is some weird love story where you actually want me to become your sub.“ You rolled your eyes, still joking around. „Not exactly.“ Suddenly your eyes widened and you really had no answer to this. Not exactly? That could mean anything. You blinked at him a few times, before your head turned back to the window.

„Don’t get the wrong impression… it has nothing to do with you being some kind of a slave.“ He hook his head. „You will lead literally everything.“ – „Mr. Stark-" – „Tony… please.“ Of course you would like to say his name out loud, but you refused, maybe to punish him for this weird stuff he said? „Mr. Stark… where exactly are we going?“ Finally you looked back at him, his eyes meeting yours again. „To my penthouse.“ – „This isn’t a coffee shop, you know?“ – „Fair enough. I confess, I didn't tell you the truth, when I wanted to meet you. But you wouldn’t have said yes if I’d ask you for some arrangement.“ oh god, this couldn’t become any worse for you. „Arrangement?“ your eyes widened at his words, and you could clearly tell, he had his troubles to keep up this conversation. Slowly his hand got up to his tie, loosening it around his neck. He needed to breath. „It sounds so bad when you say it.“ – „What's positive about that?“ He stood silent again. Honestly, a part of you were curious, but the other wanted to bury yourself six feet under. It was something like a wonder you didn't break out in panic yet.

„Look", he started again „let me tell you everything, once we arrived. I’m pretty sure we can get it.“ Right, you decided to give him a chance, but you didn't talk to him until the two of you, and the driver which looked like Happy, but you weren't quite sure, arrived at the parking house.

After a long staying around in the elevator, you finally got the chance to see his penthouse, looking around surprised when you set a foot into it. „Tony… this is great.“ You didn’t even notice you called him by his first name, but he did and it made him smirk. He stopped by the biggest window in this apartment. Actually the whole wall was just glass. The perfect view of the city and the sun slowly going down. You stepped closer to him, to take a look out of the window, but you kept your safety distance from him and from the window, since you were afraid of heights.

„Come on, (Y/N), I don’t bite… usually.“ He smirked at you, but you only looked at him from the corner of your eyes. „I didn’t allow you to call me by my first name.“ He raised his hands in defence. „Should I make a contract where you become my dom?“ He laughed and you couldn’t help but blush again. His laughter was so cute and you loved to hear it over and over again. A slight smile appeared on your lips. „Woah, I see, the lady can smile as well and what a pretty one.“ He clicked his tongue. Your smile grew with that comment and suddenly you saw him with different eyes. He seemed so soft all the way to his penthouse and even right now. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad at all. Maybe this arrangement was supposed to be you working in his company?

„About that arrangement…“, you started. He sighed, rubbing his neck. „I see, you don't like to waste time…“ he gently took your hand and you refused to pull back, so he could drag you into his home office. He sat down on the chair, looking at you. „Sit down. This might take a while. FRIDAY, tell Happy to bring two coffee…“ what the hell was a FRIDAY? „Yes, sir.“ A voice filled the room and disappeared as fast as it came up. You looked around. Was that an A.I.? You wondered, how much this man had, but you pushed the thoughts away, when you looked back at him, seeing his eyes become darker.

„Well, (Y/N)…“ he started, not knowing how to start this. „This should be an arrangement only between you and me. Did you ever hear something of a sugar daddy?“ You shrugged. „Sure I did.“ – „Great. Because that's basically it. I want you to become my sugar babe. You will be there when I need you – and only you – and I will give you everything you want, materially.“ You swallowed. „Would I have to call you daddy then?“ You really weren’t sure if you wanted this. „Ton- Mr. Stark, I’m not interested in your money. We can meet without you buying me stuff.“ You shrugged again. „It's all up to you, darling. As I said before, you lead it. There are only two conditions… 1. You will have to accept any kind of presents and 2. We will have sex.“ You could feel your tights pressing against each other. This was more than just embarrassing. Would you like to give up for a second-hand relationship? „Why can’t we have a normal relationship?“ – „Because I'm not interested in such childish things.“ Now it was him who shrugged. „And I can tell by the way you sit, that you're not totally against it.“ Damn, he was right, but did you really want to become his personal slut?

„I guess I need to think about that. Get to know you a little more.“ You wonder how you were able to keep your voice calm. „I want to keep my freedom a little longer.“ He just nodded, swiping over some pieces of paper. „That would be the contract. Think about it when you're home. Take your time, I'm willing to wait for you.“ He smiled at you. „I guess I want to go home now…“ how far would he go to convince you? You decided to test him a little.

He wasn't okay with that request, but he called Happy, so he could bring you home.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #marvel

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roseategales · 5 years

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100(ISH) WORDS A DAY CHALLENGE: NOVEMBER 2019 — DAY ELEVEN TO TWENTY-FOUR: WHISPER, BITTERSWEET.

rating: explicit. | categories: smut, modern au. | pairing: solavellan. | content warnings: mentions of alcohol. | word count: 2.2k.

author’s notes: idk what i’m doing. is that new tho? this wasn’t supposed to be uhhhh this long or take up two weeks afashfgsas oh well. i may actually end up using this an outline and turn it into a three chapter fic somewhere down the line, with more detail. i have Ideas.

The main venue for tonight’s date is provided courtesy of Josephine.

Spare tickets for a new musical at one of Grande Royeaux’s theatres were given to her by an acquaintance hoping for good graces, and, as she had prior engagements, she passed them to Eludysia to do with as she pleases. It’s another modern retelling of Andraste’s rebellion against Tevinter, focused on her early life and the beginnings of the war she fought. The mythos is thoroughly known throughout Thedas of course. A centerpiece of faith and nations, it’s the subject of innumerable non-fiction and fictionalised works of controversy, so Eludysia had little inclination in carving out time to see it. But it has been weeks since she and Solas last had a night out together, and critics and audiences have raised this one to acclaim; thus, she has persuaded him and they are meeting tonight.

She wears a dress that flows to floor-length, with an asymmetrical neckline and a slit along her left leg, the shade of myrtle leaves. Her hair is bound into a simple side-braid, her makeup done with a subtle hand. Her heels and matching clutch-purse are an off-white colour. The overall effect is one that satisfies—and, she anticipates, is prepared well for the evening.

The show is at eight. In midnight black suit and tie, he picks her up at exactly six. It gives them enough time to have dinner and conversation at a restaurant nearby the theatre. They talk about the usual things: the current affairs of the city, her cases and their successes, his classes and the books he’s read, the new discoveries of the lost Elvhen empire. He tells her she looks beautiful. She jokes that he should wear a suit more often. His hand brushes her palm and she holds it. Their reconnection is natural. Smooth as the dark red wine which fills their glasses and they raise a toast to.

They arrive at the theatre on time to be seated. An usher escorts them to a private box for two, at the side of the stage. Soon, the seats below them are filled, to the very last one. And then the lights fade out. Applause follows. The play begins.

For the next half hour, they relive the times of old through the music of their own day. The tragedy of the story should be dissonant with the vibrancy of the beat, but the presented narrative is instead enriched. It’s something to be appreciated.

By Eludysia’s asking, Solas gives commentary on the historical inaccuracies and creative liberties taken. She’d be lying if she said she doesn’t prefer the deep baritone of his voice to the cast’s, talented though they are. In exchange, he asks for her thoughts. Their seats are side by side, close enough they are still be audible to each other over the orchestra. It’s close enough for their knees to touch, and for their hands to find each other’s after each applause break.

After half an hour, Solas’ hand doesn’t return to Eludysia’s. It drifts.

At first, his placement of it is innocuous—right above where her knee meets his. But then, his fingers trail a line. His touch whisper light, they wander up and up, across the skin bared by the opening of her dress’ slit, up toward her thigh. And he shifts the fabric.

Her breath hitches, of its own accord.

Solas hasn’t even begun.

She glances from the stage—where Andraste’s actress is delivering a conflicted soliloquy on her marriage to Maferath—to where his fingertips trace the curve of her thigh, back and forth. As if awaiting a decision. “Solas… What are you doing?” She asks, like she is unaware of his intent. Like she has to read his expression to glean it.

“I’m observing the show, vhenan,” he says, as if it’s obvious. He toys with her hem, but tenderness rests on his features. “Is there a problem?”

He’s offering an out. Affirming what she wants. One word from her, and he would stop. He wouldn’t question her. If she expressed any discomfort, he would let her push him away to undo it. The night could pass by without incident, and he’d bring her back to her apartment.

His concern cuts at her heart. She loves him. She does.

But the desire for this is mutual. She craves for it as much as he. So, “not at all,” she says, with a sweetened smile.

A smirk lurks at the corner of Solas’ mouth. His ivory hand dips beneath green.

He has knowledge on just how to unravel her seams, in both contexts of speech and touch. That may be the most dangerous part. She adjusts herself to help him push aside the fabric of her underwear, and his fingers are expert; he skims her inner thigh, teases at her folds, strokes slow circles around her clit, effortless. He does it all without looking directly at her, his attention still seemingly on the reenactment of the politics of the Alamarri border to an outsider’s eye. But while she tries to steady her gaze on the same, she grows wet and wanting. Her posture slackens to allow him better access. He slides a finger inside her, two, and she has to bite her lower lip to cage her gasps and moans as her hips seek and seek more and more of him.

He summons a tension Eludysia is driven to chase. She bucks forward, and he evades. She quickens her pace, and he delays his. The discordance of their rhythm is deliberate. It turns her frustrated and impelled to grasp for the cuff of his sleeve to synchronise their movements.

It’s a mistake. He withdraws.

She has to clamp her hand over mouth, muffling a scream of his name.

Distantly, as her head rests on the seat, she realises he’s remarking on the musical.

“…how vital Shartan’s role was in the rebellion. It is refreshing to see it recognised,” breaks through the drumming of the music—through her wild, erratic pulse—Solas’ tone somehow casually academic. He looks at her, wearing a spurious innocence, expectant. “Don’t you think so?”

Breathless, she laughs.

“I think…” What does she think? The only roles she cares about now are the ones she and Solas play. She is feverish, restless. The set of the theatre is reduced to a two-dimensional backdrop, fallen away and out of focus. The script’s pages are lost. She resolves to rewrite. “I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

Solas follows. “I always enjoy giving you what you want, vhenan,” he says, placing a soft kiss behind her ear. “In due time.”

He returns a long, slender finger to hover and drag along her sex. She writhes. The high ceiling is less dizzying to stare at than the stage lights and her mind.

For a fraction of a second, Eludysia weighs a plea on her tongue. Solas might relent. It’d be easy and she’d be satiated. But it occurs to her that if he keeps her on a precipice, there is a chance he will not. And she is rarely one who begs for leniency. If it’s a struggle he hopes for, it’s a struggle he will get. “How long?” she asks, for she has knowledge on Solas too.

He chuckles, shakes his head at her. Rubs patterns on her thigh to soothe. “Be patient.”

“No, no, I meant—” She wets her lips and considers him, and her laugh is of daring impulse. “—how long, do you suppose, until I can touch you the way you’re touching me now?” She ventures and leans toward him, cloying, promising. “How long until your cock will be stroked by my hands, my—”

His thumb presses her clit. Her legs squeeze and her hand flies to her mouth.

“Lest you forget,” Solas warns, the storm-grey of his eyes darkening. He parts her legs; fully revealing the left and more. The way her skirt drapes over her now is almost precarious. “I still have an advantage.”

A whimper escapes her, unhidden. She grips at the edge of her seat to rein herself. “You said you enjoy giving me what I want.”

“Unless what you want is to incite me any more than you have. That will not end well.”

She doesn’t give up. “Why? Will you bend me over and fuck me—”

“Eludysia!”

The thrust of his fingers is as sudden as his hiss. Thought is abandoned and she jolts and buries her face into his shoulder. He moves faster and deeper this time, a furor, that spurs her on and on and on until she is trembling around and beside him, smothering her keens and sobs as pressure builds, pushes her to the edge. She maintains her grip on the seat, knuckles whitening. Her hips press against him, her legs squeeze to snatch him there. Her insides are molten and the sought for high nears—

And Solas retreats again.

Strings of Elven curses tumble from her lips onto his sleeve.

Regretful, Solas calms her. His breathing is irregular, as is hers. The hand working her goes back to gently caressing her thigh, the other cradles the back of her head. He kisses the top of her hair, mumbling an apology, and ascertains if she’s all right. She collects what she has of her strength to nod and articulate an apology as well, in spite of her wound up state, and encircles his arm with hers to reassure.

There’s a sliver of Eludysia still conscious of their surroundings, the possible consequences of their actions; muted in the obscene but present. Applause is heard, a break before the next song. What would happen, if someone were to sight how she and Solas hold each other? She is ragged, covered in a sheen of sweat and her skirt askew. He is stiff and strained, fingers glistening from her slick. The balcony’s marble enclosure hides their misdemeanor, but not their unbelonging embrace.

She draws back, glances at the silhouette of the audience, then at him. “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” It’s a genuine question, apart from tricks and tactics. Absurdity underlines their situation like crimson ink. A portrayal of a battleground is just downstairs, and here they are, irreverent, above, with one of their own. All it would take is a slip of her voice, or for someone to look up, or for intermission to arrive. And yet, they go on.

“I calculate my risks,” Solas says, pausing his ministrations to pull at her skirt’s fabric so she is less exposed. He regards her appearance, her visage. “Not unlike you.”

Eludysia can’t help but smirk. “Referring to the dress, or?”

“You had your suspicions on how I’d respond if you chose it, didn’t you?” he sighs and stills, the statement coarsened. “Like you how you had suspicions on how I’d attempt to silence you if you stirred my fantasies.”

“Well,” she says, eyes bright as the purest emeralds, “I enjoy giving you what you like, too.”

“The games we play should frighten us,” he observes, his mouth forming a grim line.

“They would—if we weren’t aware of what we were getting ourselves into.”

“We aren’t always.”

“We’ll work on that,” she promises, and tugs on his arm. Her body is still as sensitive as a livewire, but her words are tender. Earnest.

Solas hums, and he allows himself a smile and the approval. The hand in Eludysia’s hair moves to tip her chin up, closer. “Perhaps you’ll stay quiet, then?”

It’s her turn, now, to shake her head at him. “One day, ma’lath,” she says, with a lilting affection, “you will tire of your need for restraint.”

“Ma vhenan,” he chokes, the endearment a bittersweet sound. Behind his lust, his delectation, his solicitude, is an unnameable despair. He sets it before her and indulges, “that day came when I fell in love with you.”

And so he kisses her roughly. A lash of hunger upon her, his mouth and nipping teeth inflict silken heat, his fingers finding her sex to delve in once more, so she gasps and his tongue can steal its way to entangle with hers. He conducts a new, headier rhythm, strikes in and out in concert with her need, how her hips rise and buck and pursue. He takes her moans, he takes her breath. Her nerves sing, burn, pulse. She becomes lightheaded and begins to seize as he finally, finally delivers unto her a delirium. She pushes away for air, but he keeps a vice-like grasp by the nape of her neck so their lips and her cresting cry remain sealed and secret.

There is a beautiful irony in the paradoxical act; what is meant to restrain is itself a surrender. What should conflict is inseparable. Where does one end and the other emerge?

As Solas releases Eludysia and rights her, she lets her head lay on his shoulder. He doesn’t protest. Oxygen floods her lungs, and in the equilibrium of weightlessness and the sense of gravity, a line from the Chant of Light rings crystalline: —a vision of all worlds, waking and slumbering / spirit and mortal to me appeared.

They don’t wait for intermission. He takes her home. Her dress is ripped, discarded on his bedroom floor with the rest of their clothes. She makes good on her word, strokes him with her hands, her mouth. He then has his way with her; marks her skin like she could eternally be his own. Like they’ll be all right. And together, they relish in their sounds and avowals of love saturating the room through and through.

He doesn’t know Eludysia wakes in the middle of the night to wonder at the profoundness of him and his confession, as she’d done months ago when he came to her door.

#da fic #da:i fanfic #dragon age fic #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisition fic #the solavellan archive #solavellan fanfic #solavellan fic #mine.#dragon age.#100 words a day : november 2019.#solas.#inquisitor : eludysia lavellan.#ship : solas & lavellan. in another world.#god this was a lot #i do want to turn it into a full fledged fic one day tho #it'll be fun #probably #my fics.

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spotsupblaze · 4 years

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ouhhh hk ask meme. not counting ones ive seen answered with my own bare sight orbs, how abt tiso, myla and hornet?

Hornet: Favorite boss battle? Most difficult boss?

It’s honestly a close tie between Nightmare King and Pure Vessel (yes, even after 1 hour and 20 minutes of constant Flamingo I adore the fight like mad). I really like them bc their attacks are quite easy to recognize and give you enough time to react accordingly thanks to how well telegraphed they are. I literally just usually side-eye them, thats enough! Logically constructed movesets are smth I just simply adore so much

NKG is absolutely terrifying at first and that’s absolutely amazing, the thrill of getting destroyed the first time in like five seconds, the promise of a crazy challenge,,, He becomes quite easy to beat especially with Sharp Shadow, you can literally get his ass on every attack, except one where he doesnt appear, if you go absolutely apeshit crazy and risky. The fight, in a sense, somehow slows down with experience gained. Ive been trying to learn how to damage him with nail arts, bc in P5 Sharp Shadow would fuck me up, so the fight became a bit fresh again

The Pure Vessel fight is really cool bc it forces you to stay above ground which doesnt really happen a lot. With NKG you can literally just stand in one place between his attacks for the better part of the fight. With Hollow? Gotta move that sexy bug ass real fucking quick or else theres gon be some spearing and impalement. You also get to use the shade cloak really effectively and that feels just so so so good. FUCK the void noodle attack tho

The hardest fight in normal difficulty is def the Watcher Knights. They are really fucking easy compared to Ascended Markoth and Oblobbles, tho, FUCK those things, they give brain damage. The Grey Prince is pretty hard too, but after analysing his attacks and somehow getting into his hectic rythm it ends up being ok. I have also not met up with AsbRad yet so 👀💦

Tiso: Which NPC would you most like to fight? Why?

I really really really wanna spar with Quirrel and Iselda. And also kick Pale Kings ass

Like cmon man, Quirrel does like two masks of fucking damage, probably, I wanna see his moveset. With how fast he zooms in Uumuus arena, it would be such fast paced fight,, bet it would be like the Sisters of Battle, NKG or Pure Vessel, except Q’s hitbox would be much smaller which could add to the challenge, too,,,

Iselda mentioned that she used to wield a nail and Ill be honest I really wanna see her action,, I feel like her fighting style would be similar to the mantis one or Laces (from what weve seen from Lace anyway). Just the sort of quick come in range, stab a fucker and disappear again

The Pale King? Simple: he FUCKING deserves to get his ass kicked at least a lil bit, no matter how grey his morality is painted. Also I feel like his moveset would be fucking off the shits, with him controling soul stuff

Myla: What’s your favorite song from the soundtrack?

Probably the nursery/Shade’s lullaby song? From like proper songs, its either the City of Tears, Nightmare Lantern or Hornet’s theme

#Spot says stuff #would you believe me that I lost this for like a whole day bc I tried putting it in drafts?#it for some fucking reason got buried under other posts I have saved like why the fuck #anyway I love rambling about boss fights; from overanalysing their moves to just complimenting their form and movement during attacks ;;

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nightcoremoon · 5 years

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there's lots of tiny brained bad takes of the far left branding things as Bad™ based solely on their association to other things or certain aspects of part of their fanbase.

this isn't to discredit the shit idiot brain fungus plaguing everyone from centrists, the moderate right, the far right, and the alt right, and even some of the moderate left, where they label everything that isn't about a Cishet White Male American Capitalist Bootlicker who's stateist, ambiguously christian/atheist, neurotypical, able-bodied, has "aryan" facial attributes, is an insufferable asshole, and the like, as "SJW garbage".

but see, prejudice and judgment is bad even if it's not motivated by minority demographic. being a rude dismissive asshole is, you know, bad. maybe making fun of a furry or whatever isn't as bad as being a racist, but you're still a fucking dickhead either way. fuck both of you but fuck the racist more. I'll punch both of you but punch the racist twice (maybe a third time for good measure). do y'all understand what I'm trying to get at here with the tiers of badness? the shades of grey? the steps down the path of evil from "kind of rude" to "literally hitler"?

bigotry is not the only bad thing in the world. yeah it's one of the worst, but you can talk about other bad things without discrediting that, which I know is next to impossible for teenagers (or people who never bothered to mentally progress from such) to comprehend.

anyway what sparked this is all the fuckin joker memes. now I went into it expecting, you know, literally taxi driver 2 followed by a silly horror movie about a clown murdering people. which is what the joker of the comics is all about. if I never watched the movie and only saw, what, the killing murray scene, the stairway dancing scene, the trailers, and joaquin phoenix sitting in a padded room and laughing, that's exactly what I'd had gotten.

but like. I fucking watched it because my dad wanted to watch it with me and he fucking loves all things batman (except Ben Affleck). and wolverine but mostly batman. he's a comic nerd. so yeah I went to watch it with him.

and it was legitimately terrifying from a purely psychological perspective. it's LITERALLY the best scary movie I've ever seen without being horror in the slightest. the acting, the writing, the score, the pacing, the cinematography, it was well put together without being a moffat level overproduced mess. it was a good movie. you're allowed to not care for it or not like it but to objectively call it a bad movie is not only a logical fallacy (eye of the beholder) but it also discredits the opinion of every single person who didn't hate it and makes you come off as a pompous fucking asshole rather than having different tastes.

it's about a guy with severe mental trauma in a bad situation trying to make the best of it and care for his family and hold down a job but he gets fucked over from literally every angle and eventually he snaps and makes a mistake and kills the misogynist rich asshats on the train. oh fuck. he could have gone to the police and said self defense and go through the court system but wait, society in gotham doesn't allow for a clean system of justice when you aren't rich. so instead he proceeds to be a major creepazoid turned murdering lunatic blaming everyone else for his own bad situation instead of the whole deal where he did stupid shit like taking a gun into a fucking children's hospital and stuck his fingers inside a child's mouth and stealing shit and falling further down the rabbit hole. until finally, he says fuck it and seeks revenge. the whole bloody mess that follows is his own fault. he chose to kill people. he chose to murder for petty reasons. he made his decisions and he suffered the consequences for it. all of the festering rotten crime in the city spawned by waynecorp's supreme negligence heralded him as a hero and so begins batman's story.

arthur fleck is not a fucking hero. he is a villain through and through. his circumstances were unfortunate but he made the wrong decisions. the world fucked him over and he said okay and retaliated. joker is exactly the fucking same as breaking bad. arthur and walter white are both evil people through their own decisions. but they were once normal people. and that's the point. the scariest monsters in the world are usually the white men angry at the world for their own shortcomings. oswald. ruby. dahmer. bundy. gein. manson. klebold and harris. white. fleck. they're all the filth stuck in the gutter of society that, if left unchecked, has deadly results.

I'm not kidding at all when I say joker was an important movie for myself personally to see exactly when I saw it. because that first half, I'm not gonna lie, it got me. the therapy didn't work and then it was taken away. he didn't eat most days because he had to support his mother. the people he worked with were dickheads, the people he commuted with were dickheads, his boss was a dickhead, people treated him like garbage on the streets. he couldn't remember the trauma inflicted on him when he was a baby but it still warped every aspect of his life. he had aspirations but lacked the skills. he was sad. alone. empty. he was suicidal. he was me.

then he started killing people and using the neighbor girl as a tulpa and I realized oh no oh god oh shit OH FUCK I need to change from this. and I did.

joker is a perfect template of how not to react to the world when it kicks in your teeth. it's a perfect template of a dark movie. just enough to sympathize with the bad guy but not enough to excuse his actions. the opposite of star wars with kylo ren. a good movie. a good character. an amazing actor. a terrible person.

if you watched joker thinking you're watching the story of the protagonist, you're right, but if you conflate protagonist with the good guy, yeah you won't like the fucking movie because it'll leave a sour taste in your mouth. you'll feel slimy. disgusting. unless you're a megadouche shitlord piece of human fucking garbage who wants to cosplay arthur fleck because he's so damn cool like walter white and eric cartman and rick sanchez and bojack horseman and tyler durden and all those FUCKING HORRIBLE LOATHESOME HUMANS TO NEVER EVER TRY TO EMULATE OR YOU ARE AN UNEMPHATIC ASSHOLE AND A MORON TO BOOT.

if you hated the movie, that's fine. you're kinda supposed to hate it. and if you loved the movie, that's fine so long as you understand what the message was. but if it's one of your favorite movies of all time ever made holy shit please go to therapy jesus christ.

still the point of this post is, discrediting the movie as a steaming pile of shit is incredibly ignorant. and as for the "good movies made by white men are only liked by other white men and are therefore bad movies" thing... if y'all can thirst over eddie brock in the trainwreck of venom and admit that the standards of good movie vs bad movie are all subjective, you're a goddamn idiot if you can't apply the same logic and reason to every movie just because some white boys like edgy clowns (even tho joker is way less edgy than pennywise but go off) in abusive relationships with harlequins. oh and assflash newshole, I'm not a white man.

I swear this bandwagoning bullshit is exactly the same mentality as "hurr durr nickelback worst band ever" even though nickelback is ripe with musical talent underneath a few pop songs that they wrote for the record label as part of their career so they can make a fuckin living BECAUSE CAPITALISM IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL and also because of all the misogyny that bled its way into the music industry in the 2000s but that's a topic for another day. 'joker bad' and 'nickelback bad' are products of the same mental decay that social media wrought upon us all, inflicting mass mob mentality and incapacity for individualistic rational thought. which is exactly why there's a war between camp 'joker is bad' and 'joker is amazing' and nobody acknowledges the group in the middle that's like 'joker was good objectively but also terrible subjectively and content-wise'. polar. I could make a political statement and also say how the neoliberals and the fascists are at war while the people in the middle are caught in the crossfire and forced to fight like pawns on a chessboard, but the moderate right, dumbass centrists, pastel commies, and pockets of the moderate left, but that just throws everything into chaos.

tl;dr learn to think for yourselves omg

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sannasketches · 6 years

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Author’s note: I’m so sorry this took me so long! Left you hanging on a cliffhanger there... Oops

Summary: After Elide recovers from the flu she meets up with Lorcan for their first date!

Word count: 2.6 k

Masterlist

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged!

Tagging: @mariamuses @urbisie @elainarch @empress-ofbloodshed @saltierthanbottomofapretzelbag @writergash @verifiefangirl @lordlorcanlochan @raena-baena @acotar-feels @fucking-winchester-trash @infinit3-inspiration @beelezebub @acourtof-painandfeels @fantasylover1996 @nightcourtstarlight @galathynius

It had taken several notes from me to convince Lorcan that I was really sick and I did, in fact, really want to see him. And no, I wasn’t blowing him off. I promised to let him know when I was better before falling asleep again.

I was bedridden the rest of the week, the flu was slow to leave my system. I hadn’t been this sick since I was little, and it was nice to get coddled by my parents again. My mom brought me tea and soup, wiping my forehead with cold towels. My father stopped by in between work to drop off books to read so I wouldn’t be bored.

Aelin came to visit me as well. She lounged on my bed and fed me apple slices with honey while she updated me on all the court gossip.

‘I think Aedion has a new lover’, Aelin mused as she lazily peeled her apple, feet propped up on my bed. ‘He keeps showing up late to our training sessions and I swear I saw nail marks on his back last week.’

I sat up against my headboard and reached for the tea on my nightstand. ‘Do you know who it is?’

‘No, but I intend to find out,’ She handed me a piece of apple ‘and make sure they understand I need him to be there on time. If I can’t slack off on training neither can he and ever since…’ her sentence broke off suddenly and pain flashed in her eyes.

‘Ever since Rowan left.’ I finished for her. ‘Lin, what happened between you two?’ It had been weeks since they fought, but every time I tried talking to her about it she shut me down.

‘I asked him to stay with me.’ Aelin blurted out ‘or at least I tried to but I guess it came out sounding more like I was commanding him.’

She winced. ‘And you know how he gets when he feels like he’s forced into something…’

Having met the imposing white haired fae only twice I couldn’t rightly say I knew anything about him, apart from what Aelin had told me. He had seemed incredibly proud, and if I were honest, a little scary.

Thinking of scary fae men made me think of Lorcan, who was hiding so much behind his cold demeanor. The letters he wrote me told me that he was incredibly intelligent, well read and had a deeply curious mind. I wondered what had caused him to put up the cold facade against the world.

‘... I could kill Maeve for what she did to him.’

The angry tone of Aelin’s voice shook me from my thoughts. ‘Who?’

‘Maeve,’ she repeated ‘Rowan’s former employer? Aka the bitch who worked him so hard he constantly looks like he wants to punch anyone who comes close?’ The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before.

‘He couldn’t even talk about what happened,‘ Aelin continued ‘I only found out what she did from other people.’ She stood up and started pacing across my room. ‘Apparently she employs all the best fae warriors in Doranelle, just so she can make them do all her dirty work. Vile things too.’ She shuddered. ‘And he’s too stubborn to talk about it, no matter how often I asked. He only got more distant and when I asked him to stay here with me he ran.’ Aelin turned to me, her eyes overbright.

‘I’m so sorry Lin,’ I patted the bed beside me and she walked over, crawling into bed with me. ‘I’m so sorry he hurt you, but It sounds like he didn’t run from you because he doesn’t want to be here. Let him work it out, and I’m sure he’ll come back.’

Aelin looked doubtful, but I knew in my heart that Rowan would come back. I didn’t know him, but I had seen the way he looked at her. He looked at Aelin like he couldn’t believe she was real. He’d be back. I yawned, I still tired easily. Next to me Aelin mirrored me, snuggling deeper under the blankets.

‘I’m so glad I told you Eli,’ she whispered sleepily ‘I almost believe you.’

‘Believe me’ I muttered back, ‘let’s make a bet, will you give me your emerald earrings if I win?’ I looked over, but she was already asleep.

When I felt completely recovered I sent a note to Lorcan, asking him to meet me the next day, in front of the inn where we met during the Kingsbloom festival.

It was a beautiful sunny day and I took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as I left home to meet Lorcan. I was excited to see him, whether this was a date or not. I was early and decided to take the longer route through one of Orynth’s parks. It felt good to be outside again, the city had gone from late summer to fall during my illness. Multicolored leaves fell from the trees, and street vendors were selling hot apple cider and roasted chestnuts.

My skirts swished around my legs. I had decided to wear a three quarter length dark blue skirt and a light blue blouse with embroidered flowers. Putting in some extra effort I braided half my hair back, letting the rest fall in waves over my shoulders.

I wandered over the leaf covered walkways, trying to walk out my nerves. I knew Lorcan thought I had faked my illness to escape our date. Why would he think that? I went over the letters we sent each other in my mind, contemplating if I said anything that would give him the impression that I didn’t want to meet him.

I was so lost in my thoughts, I forgot the time and only realized I was running late when I heard the bells from the temple sound the hour. Holding my skirts I picked up my pace and hurried to the inn, by the time I arrived my cheeks were pink from the cold and exertion.

Lorcan was waiting for me, his arms crossed and towering over everyone. I smiled, why did he always try to look so intimidating? He always wore black and his body language screamed ‘STAY AWAY FROM ME’.

His eyes moved over the crowd going about their daily business in front of the inn, scanning for danger no doubt. A small smile broke out on his face as my eyes found his. The smile changed his face completely, from cold and calculated to tentatively shy and warm. I felt myself grinning back at him.

‘Lorcan, hi!’ I puffed as I stopped in front of him, a little out of breath from my walk and the way he looked at me.

‘Elide,’ he breathed, looking uncertain about whether to hug me or shake my hand. Deciding for him I rested my hand on his forearm and leaned up to hug him. He leaned forward and his other arm tightened around me in a tentative hug. After a few seconds he straightened up again, his face a dark shade of red that made his grey eyes stand out even more.

‘I was glad to get your message’ he said, still smiling down at me. ‘I really wasn’t sure if you’d show up.’

I squinted up at him and answered the silent question I saw in his eyes, ‘I really was down with the flu, or I’d have been there. I was looking forward to seeing you, so much so that I tried to convince Aelin to let me go the next day even tho I was delusional from fever. It took me this long to recover.’

I felt my cheeks start to burn after that embarrassing confession.

‘Ok.’ he looked contrite. ‘I’m very glad you’re feeling better and you look really nice.’

‘Me too.’ I answered. ‘Glad that I’m feeling better that is… I don’t think I look really nice. I mean, I think I look nice but...’ Oh gods why was I being this awkward? ‘You look nice too.’ I finished lamely.

If Lorcan thought I was being ridiculous he didn’t show it. ‘Do you want to walk around a little?’ He held out his arm to me. ‘The weather is so nice today, it’d be a shame to spend all of it indoors.’

‘That sounds wonderful.’ I took his arm and he steered us away from the inn and towards the park. As we walked Lorcan asked me about the past week and our awkwardness fell away. We talked about my studies, his work and then moved on to favorite books, architecture, finding out we had a lot of common interests.

We toured the entire park, and as we got close to the inn again Lorcan confessed ‘I’m sorry if I’m tiring you out, but I feel so much less shy when I’m moving.’ A wry smile touched his lips, ‘Give me a weapon and I can conquer the world, but force me to do small talk and I turn into an awkward stuttering mess.’

‘You’ve been doing great so far tho.’ I patted his arm reassuringly.

‘Yeah but that’s because you’re different from other women.’

I started to laugh at his joke but he looked so sincere that I just smiled up at him.

A faint blush crept up Lorcan’s neck and he quickly changed the subject. ‘Do you want to get something warm to drink?’

‘Yes please, I’m freezing.’ I shivered, realizing that we’d been walking for quite some time and that I wasn’t used to the chilly autumn air yet.

We stepped into the inn and Lorcan steered us towards an empty booth near the fireplace. I plopped down onto one of the seats and held out my hands toward the welcome heat of the fire. Lorcan ordered hot drinks and some pastries for us before sitting down opposite me, jostling the table with his legs.

‘I meant to ask,’ I said, steadying the table with my hands. ‘what brought you to Orynth in the first place?’ So far Lorcan had sidestepped most questions about his past, talking about the places he visited and the books he read instead of opening up. Now that he felt better at ease I decided to push him a little.

‘I came here for work.’ he shifted in his seat, ‘Because my employer told me to and I couldn’t refuse her.’ The waiter came to bring our drinks and I thanked him before turning to Lorcan again. ‘But you didn’t want to?’ I blew on my tea and took a small sip, wincing when the hot liquid touched my tongue.

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I would’ve liked to have the choice.’ I cocked my eyebrow at him, somehow I found it hard to imagine anyone forcing the man in front of me to do anything.

‘I’m glad to be here now, having met you, but if Whitethorn hadn’t been so damn foolish in coming here we wouldn’t have had to run after him and get caught up in his mess.’ He sighed and leaned back in his seat.

‘You don’t mean Rowan Whitethorn, right?’ I had almost spilled my tea down my dress at the mention of Aelin’s lover/trainer.

He nodded and reached for one of the small pastries. ‘None other.’

‘How do you know him? Do you know where he went?’

‘We go way back.’ Lorcan stopped and his eyes moved over my face, searching for something, as if he was deciding whether to continue. Finishing his exploration he continued: ‘I guess you could call us brothers in arms. We work for the same b- employer… A few months ago he left Doranelle without her permission and she sent us here to find him and to bring him back.’ He smirked. ‘But Rowan was gone by the time we got here and she never specified what we had to do if we didn’t find him. We’ve been telling her that we think he is still in Terrasen and that we’re moving in on him, but really we’re lying low while he figures his shit out.’

I was surprised at his honesty. ‘Won’t she be mad when she finds out you’re lying to her?’

‘We’re not lying, we’re emitting.’ He leaned towards me and reached for my hand, ‘Anyway, I don’t really want to talk about her, I’d rather talk about what you want to do after we finish our tea.’

It had been the first romantic move he had made during the entire afternoon and it took me a while to reply. ‘I- I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay, I promised my dad I’d help him finish up the monthly bills today.’ He looked a little crestfallen and I added: ‘I wish I could stay. I definitely prefer your company over some dusty books.’

‘Glad to hear I rank above your father’s bills.’ Lorcan squeezed my hand. ‘Oh definitely.’ I grinned mischievously. ‘Now if it’d been petitions… If it’d been petitions then you’d have been in trouble!’ I finished my tea as he threw back his head and laughed.

‘Can I at least walk you home?’ He asked, still smiling. Unsettled by the way his laugh made my stomach flutter I nodded and stood up.

We began making our way towards the castle, I walked slowly so we’d be able to make our date last a little longer. As we passed the conservatory I slowed even more, someone was playing the piano and I could hear flards of music coming from an open window looking out at the conservatory’s inner garden. Lorcan stopped and cocked his head, hearing the music as well.

‘Come on.’ I took his hand and dragged him into the garden. The little garden was very overgrown, the garden beds full of blooming perennials. Green and orange ivy was creeping over the walls, framing a small concrete bench. I walked over and sat down, sighing contentedly as I took in the idyllic scene. Lorcan sat down beside me, shifting around awkwardly as if he didn’t know how to get comfortable. Fearing he would withdraw into the awkward shyness from the beginning of our date I took matters into my own hands a scooted closer to him. Nestling into his warmth I leaned my head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of him beside me. After a second his arm went around me and we sat in silence, listening to the beautiful music.

I felt the moment sink into me, like sometimes happens when you feel too much at once. I wanted to remember it forever, the music, the smell of ivy mixed with Lorcan and his arm around my shoulder.

‘Elide?’

I turned my face up to look into his eyes, and he looked down at me with such warmth that it broke my heart a little.

‘Would it be ok if I kissed you?’

I nodded and his head moved down to softly brush his lips against mine. The sweetness of the kiss surprised me. His kiss was tentative, almost cautious. He moved back to look into my eyes, reaching up to cup my cheek in his hand. I smiled at him, showing with my eyes that there was no reason for him to be nervous.

‘How is it that it feels like you look straight into me?’ He whispered, his index finger moving over my lips. ‘Stay with me?’

I moved up to kiss him and sighed against his lips ‘I’ll think about it.’

#a sunday smile #elorcan fic #elorcan #throne of glass fanfiction #sj maas fanfiction #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #tog

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