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soft4gguk · 3 years

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to build a home | chapter two

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. eventual smut

word count: 8.8k (y’all still need context but introduction to oc! and her super cool best friend I’m growing emotionally attached to)

warnings: angst. more angst. swearing. more crying baby </3. and more crying jungoo </3. also, jungkook’s an asshole (im sorry ok my mans is going thru it can u blame him). but! jungkook best dad. mentions of alcohol. mentions of abandonment. that’s pretty much it. last one was too heavy.

author’s note: hi <3 first of all, i wasn’t really expecting my little (sad) story to get half of the attention it’s getting so i want to make sure i come in here and say thank u from the bottom of my heart if u took your time to read it and/or leave nice comments. you’re the best. now, getting to the juicy stuff – hi. this was a handful and im sorry but also im not??? this chapter introduces new characters that were so much fun to write and also our sexy nanny oc queen!! i almost almost blue balled u and left their first meeting / thoughts on one another for the next chapter but i honestly got so excited about it i couldn’t do that to yall. jk has no idea tho. his heart still hurts its been two minutes be patient w him. but the very last paragraph… yeah. thats all im saying. anyways ENJOY <3 xxxxx

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.

Chapter Two

You love Saturdays, not afraid to fall into the cliché that coincides with pretty much 99% of the population that looks forward to the weekend. But Saturdays feel different. And here, let me throw in another cliché – they only get better the warmer the weather gets. A Saturday and summer type of person? Predictable. But you’re not one to shy away from clichés. You’d be out of a passion and perhaps have grown to hate your degree, making your four years of higher education exceptionally tedious. You’re diverting, though. Point is, you’re not afraid of being a little predictable in the name of a good cliché.

You woke up this morning and the smell of freshly baked goods had you jolting out of bed. The mornings are still chilly and you keep making the mistake of heading straight to the kitchen barefoot. Excitement usually has you making it in four to six strides and that’s all it takes to be embraced by warmth again. Your kitchen is tiny and the oven does wonders at keeping it in a steady cozy degrees Celsius.

“Good morning, lover.” Lucy’s sweet voice adds to the warmth.

Roommate, best friend and future pastry school graduate – the pet name you two share fits her like a glove. A human being so sweet people stick to her like flies often do to sticky, yummy forgotten treats. Her graduation is coming up in a couple of weeks so she spends her weekends diligently perfecting recipes. You are able to bask in the benefits as her personal guinea pig. And it’s never bad so you gladly comply.

“It is indeed, lover.” You return. She laughs, placing a scone in your hand. It’s plain but nothing about it feels so when you take a bite. “What do you even put in these? Crack?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” She exclaims, pointer finger in the air for dramatic effect. “Here, coffee – freshly brewed so you better not-” but before she can continue, you’re already burdening her existence, a handful of ice cubes falling into the drink she’d poured in your favorite jar.

“Sometimes it’s better to apologize than to ask for permission?” You look at her sweetly, feigning innocence.

“You are stripping my perfect scones of flavour by numbing your tongue with all that ice, ___!” She whines, making you laugh.

“Wait ‘til you see how I lather it with cheap, synthetic strawberry jam.”

“I give up on you.”

“No, you don’t.” You say, big smile plastered on your face. She smiles back.

You sit opposite her, propped up on a stool before your little kitchen counter and watch her work as you reap the benefits.

“You know… I have a good feeling about today. Today’s the day. I just know it.” She tells you.

“You think I’m breaking into the corporate world on a Saturday?” You ask, incredulous but humour lacing your tone.

“Shut up. You don’t even want in the corporate world,” she begins, eyes still glued to her scones, “just… keep your eyes open. You never know.”

“Will do.”

With eyes wide open, you make sure they’re glued to the half a dozen of children spread around the kid’s section of your local library. Saturdays are good because of scones and the undivided (although at times a bit disperse) attention of your very enthusiastic book club of keen readers aging from 4 to 6. Best age to start if you do say so yourself.

Today’s pick is Julián Is a Mermaid and it seems to be sparking a fairly good discussion within your avid readers.

“I want to be a mermaid.”

“Well, you can’t. it’s a book. Miss ___ say’s its fiction.”

“Miss ___ says we can be whoever we want as long as we’re kind.”

“Yeah, but mermaids don’t exist!”

“Okay, okay! Eyes up here. Let’s discuss calmly.” You break the discourse, even though you were secretly enjoying it. “Although it is true that this is a work of fiction like Seojun says, we can be whoever we want, like Kisoo says. In this case, Julián being a mermaid is simply a fun way to let us know that. We prefer fun stories, don’t we?”

They all break into a cheer, affirming that yes, indeed, we prefer fun stories. You give yourself a mental pat in the back. Good saves are a talent you’ve learned to master with little kids who oftentimes lack a filter. You wish you could be like that at times. Bold but soft and (most often than not) kind.

The clock on the wall nears 12 o’clock and you close the book in your lap, turning once again to the kids.

“Okay, kiddos! Did we have fun?” Your question is received by yet again another burst of cheers. You giggle. “Are we looking forward to having even more fun next week with Duck Rabbit?” Another cheer, this time louder. You feel like a Rockstar. “That’s what I like to hear. Okay. You guys can play, draw or have some free reading time until pick up.”

They disperse, gathering in little groups or finding various interests around the colourful play section surrounded by high shelves heavy with more books than you can count.

You engage into brief conversations with the parents as they reunite with their overly hyper children, swarming them with detailed recounts of their participations for the day, their favorite parts of the story and loads of bold ‘I want to be a mermaid!’ statements. That’s usually your queue – you’re not one to break a heart with the harsh truths of the world.

There are only two kids left, quietly sat in one of the small tables, fully invested in their drawings.

Your eyes divert to the window and you see Dae’s mom. A pretty brunette that, if you didn’t know better, would be convinced she’s the ripe age of twenty-three, just like yourself. You’ve actually found yourself looking forward to your small talk with her during pick up – time and time again making sense of Dae’s sweet and light-hearted personality through his mom.

You walk over to the little boy, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, Dae…,” you say softly, not wanting to disrupt his focus.

“Whaff?” He replies, turning to you slowly, one eye still glued to his drawing. You melt at the slight lisp he gets sometimes when he’s a bit distracted.

“Look who’s here.” You say, and right that moment his mom makes her way through the doors.

“Mama!” He all but screams, voice so sweet it sounds gooey, making you melt.

“Ahhhhh, hi baby! Did you have fun? We missed you so, so much. Daddy’s next door getting you donuts.” Mai says, knees coming to hit the ground as she wraps the little boy in her arms, a mischievous smile at the mention of sweet treats.

“Donuts?” It’s the only thing Dae can grasp from her sentence.

She laughs. “Yes, but only after lunch, okay? We’re going to grandma’s today, remember?” he nods, excitement written all over his face. Only now do you notice just how much it resembles his mother.

Mai gets up from the ground, sending Dae off for his backpack before she turns to you, smiling.

“___, you make his Saturdays so magical. My husband is considering never taking him to Disneyland again.” She says, earning a laugh from you.

“Please, don’t let me be responsible for that.” You tell her, light chuckles still leaving your lips. “They make my Saturdays magical, too.”

Dae makes his way back, coming to stand in between the two of you. He looks up at you, soft curls coming to rest in front of his eyes before he brushes them off.

“Thank you for having me today, Miss ___. I had fun.” He sounds shy when he says it but never once breaks eye contact.

“I had fun, too, Dae. Thank you for coming. Can’t wait to see you next week!” You tell him and he beams at your welcoming words. He softly nods and turns to his mom who’s looking at him proudly, as if he’d nailed the previously rehearsed sentence.

You wave at the two of them and see them out, promptly repeating the same actions as you did with Dae, this time with the last kid and parent encounter of the day. Another sweet goodbye before you’re turning around, ready to tidy up after today’s session.

You’ve only just had enough time to put away the box of crayons littering the floor before the sound of approaching footsteps makes you turn around. You see Mai walking towards you, Dae nowhere to be seen this time.

“Hey, is everything alright? Did Dae forget something?” You ask.

“Hi again. Yes, yes. Everything’s alright. I wanted to talk to you actually.” She says, finally coming to a stop in front of you.

“Oh… sure. What’s up?”

“What are you doing after this?” She asks and immediately realizes how nosy she must sound at the way you wince slightly at the question. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that… what do you do? I mean, do you work, study…?”

You notice her tense up, nerves brewing at her sudden intrusion and you reassure her with a soft smile. You don’t blame her – you’d want to know, too, if your child was spending time with someone who could very well be considered a stranger.

“I, um… I graduated three months ago. Literature. That was my major. I worked the night shift at a bar through most of university. I recently left, though. The atmosphere was getting heavy, I guess,” you say, sparing her the details, “I do work freelance for some publications at the moment, but you could say I’m just… floating for the time being. Looking.” Your admission makes you shy, gaze falling down.

“Oh… I thought you’d be pursuing a career in education.” Mai says, though she doesn’t sound surprised.

“No, no. I volunteer at the book club because it sort of gives me a sense of purpose. It’s easy to lose that when you’ve recently graduated. I didn’t want to feel like my life was in a complete pause. Plus, I like the kids. They keep me hopeful.”

Mai tries her best to keep her facial expression as stoic as ever – offering gentle nods and smiles as she takes in your words. But inside, she’s plotting. You’re too good to be true. Granted, she’s known this for a while – Saturday book club excitement begins as early as Thursday for Dae. Your entire essence feels trustworthy, sweet and patient.

So, Mai plots.

“I have a friend…,” she starts, taking you aback, eyebrows raising up in surprise. “I think he might need your help.”

“So? What did you say? Did you agree to it? I told you I had a good feeling about today!” Lucy’s frantic, bits of flour dust her cheeks lightly. She hasn’t left the kitchen since you left this morning and now the scones are accompanied by batches of croissants, madeleines, eclairs – you name it. Her own personal Café de Fleur.

You have to admit, her excitement is contagious.

“I mean, I agreed to have her give him a call. To put in a reference for me. But I don’t know, Lu.” This earns you a scowl from her

“What do you mean you don’t know? This could be amazing, ___. Enlightening, even!”

“Enlightening is a stretch.” You say, hand coming to rest at your hip.

“Now, don’t be ungrateful. What else do you need? She all but gloated about her more than financially willing single dad friend that’s in desperate need of a hot nanny-” now you’re the one scowling. “Sorry, a nanny. Kids come naturally to you!”

“She’s nine months old! She’s a baby, not a kid. I can’t bribe her with lollipops and picture books.” You protest.

“Even better! Babies are less demanding of attention and bribes. You just have to make sure she stays fed and out of poopy diapers and voila! Happy kid- baby. Happy baby!” she says. At what sounds like a defeated sigh coming from you, she presses, “besides… you could have time to work on your writing, in-between naps or whatever. What other job gives you the benefits nap time does?”

She has a point. It shouldn’t take too much to convince you – you do need the job. The savings you’ve been amounting to since university will not last you forever and you couldn’t solely rely on the hopes of getting your big break as a writer overnight.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point.”

“Plus… being a single parent must not be easy.” You smile at your friend’s inability to remove her feelings from the vaguest of situations. “You could actually help out a family more than you’d realize, ___.”

Her words make your heart sink a little, even though you can’t quite put your finger on why. As much as you make fun of Lucy for shining subjectivity into every context, you can’t help but admit you’re the same. You don’t know anything about this family; let alone anything that would spark the uneasiness that tugs at your heart at her words. Yet you can’t control the flutters in your chest at Lucy’s suggestion, insisting you could be of help.

In that moment, you find yourself hoping you can be.

It’s Monday.

Jungkook hates how much of a Monday it feels like. He was never one to fixate on the days of the week as such – usually having his secretary keeping track of his days, making sure to fit personal time and Soori’s doctor’s appointments in the middle of his crazy work schedule. He’s never attached days to feelings.

But today is a Monday and it feels like Jungkook’s own personal idea of hell. The weekend was hell, too. He decided to bring Soori along on his business trip, her recent clinginess to her father breaking Jungkook’s heart during every parting. Mai tries to soften the reality around the edges a bit, reassuring him she only cries for a little longer once he leaves her in the mornings before heading to the office.

Suelgi had tagged along for the trip and would babysit during the day as Jin and Jungkook oversaw the advancements in the project. He felt proud. This was the first of his hotels that he has overseen from the very beginning. An idea that’s now materialized into a twenty stories high beach front resort. Soori was not in the mood to necessarily celebrate, though, amounting to a two-day, one (sleepless) night hellish weekend trip.

The back and forth has really been taking a toll on her schedule as well, leaving them with odd feeding hours and a regression in her sleep training that has Jungkook fearing for his ability to function on sole motor skills.

He’s in the middle of changing her diaper as she fidgets in his grasp, mindlessly playing with a bunched-up sock. He squints. His bunched-up sock. Where did she even get that? He checks his watch – 7:20 AM. Not bad. Mental pat in the back, because he basically lives off his own reassurance nowadays. The pleasure of the accomplishment of not running late for once is short-lived as his phone starts ringing loudly. His eyes search for it and although he can hear its proximity, it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck.” He mutters. Soori coos at him and he covers her ears quickly, “you didn’t hear that.”

The ringing stops and he continues his task of getting her clean and changed for the day. Another short-lived moment of bliss as the ringing fills the walls of the nursery again. Now he worries – it could be a work emergency. Or Suelgi reaching out to let him know something came up and she won’t be able to look after Soori today. He takes another glance around the room and sees the buzzing device camouflaged by a family of plushies on top of one of Soori’s toy baskets. It doesn’t stop ringing.

“Don’t move, okay?” He says to Soori, who’s laying on top of her changing table. The second the words leave his lips he realizes the calibre of stupidity the request holds. He closes his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “Intermission,” he says, taking a very butt-naked Soori in his arms and heading to retrieve his phone. How did that even get there? He recites a mental prayer in hopes his daughter doesn’t have an accident – one all over his tightly pressed white button up.

Mai’s name flashes on the screen of his phone.

“Hello?”

“Gguk. I have the best news.” She says, way too cheerful for 7 am.

“Enlighten me.” He responds, immediately regretting the sarcastic ring to his voice.

Mai doesn’t seem to mind, he can hear the smile on her face when she says, “I found you a nanny!”

“Send her CV my way. I’ll check it out as soon as I get to the office.” He returns.

“I’m her CV! And her letter of recommendation.”

“No.”

“Gguk-”

“I’m not going to leave my daughter in the care of someone that doesn’t have the right qualifications and/or enough years of experience to lack a proper CV.” Jungkook’s voice is stern and he knows Mai is rolling her eyes on the other side of the line.

“Oh, Ggukie. You’re funny. If employment worked that way you’d be out of a job.” Her voice doesn’t hold an ounce of menace but she knows she has to be stern, too.

“Hotels can fail. My daughter’s wellbeing, cannot.” He argues, voice sounding defeated.

“Okay. Hear me out. She’s Dae’s teacher. From Saturday book club – you know how he’s always telling you about it?” Mai explains.

“Oh, she’s a teacher?” He admits that grants him a glimmer of hope.

“Well, no,” and before Jungkook can object again she continues, “but! Gguk, she is sweet, and patient and I’ve seen her with the kids, she can easily reason with them. They love her. And respect her. Come on, just one interview. Get to know her. Let Soori get to know her, too. She can’t be worse than all these nannies you’ve been interviewing that look straight out of that one scene in Mary Poppins. Please?”

Jungkook is about to object again, having made up his mind at ‘well, no’ but before he can begin to form a sentence, he feels a wet patch growing at the center of his stomach, quickly spreading down in a steady stream. He looks down at Soori who looks back at him innocently, unaware of her accident, slightly relieved at having an empty bladder. She smiles at him, a soft giggle falling past her lips.

Now they’re running late.

“Okay.”

“Gguk just- what?” Mai says, astounded.

“Give me her number, I’ll have my assistant arrange the interview.” He sounds defeated, but Mai doesn’t miss the sudden determination in his voice.

“You won’t regret it, Gguk. Trust me.”

And in that moment, he finds himself hoping he doesn’t.

“So, it’s a coffee date?”

Lucy’s voice nears as she enters your room, pushing the clothes that you’ve aggressively scattered all over your bed to the side. She takes a seat, hands wrapped around a scolding hot cup of tea. You can see the steam dance out of the mug in little twirls.

“No. it’s not a coffee date. His assistant just asked me how I liked my coffee. Must be a rich people thing, you know?” You argue.

“Politeness?” She asks, raising a brow.

“No. Planning ahead of time.”

“And what did you tell her?” She presses, bringing the mug to her lips as she takes a sip.

“Huh?”

“About how you like your coffee.”

“Iced americano.” You tell her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

She rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s like you want to butcher this!”

“Not actively attempting to, no. But if I can’t find anything remotely appropriate to wear then that might just be the case.” You say, exasperated. You’d spent the good first half of your morning rummaging around your tiny closet for anything that would resemble even an ounce of professionality. Needless to say, your pastels and florals, mostly making up an absurd amount of sun dresses, were not quite cutting it.

“Please, ___, you dress like a grandma that picks up gardening as soon as the weather goes any higher than 20 degrees. Or, even better, -” she continues but you turn around, narrowing your eyes at her. “The cutest grandma, though. Sexy, too.” She winks at you and you can’t help but smile.

“It’s just not… professional enough.”

“Since when do nannies have to look cookie cutter corporate? I’d be content enough with someone that didn’t pose any immediate threat. Like say, you walk in there with a spike collar on – that might be dangerous. But then again, you can’t really judge a book by its cover.” She concludes, assertive nod to the head before she takes another sip.

You laugh, shooting finger guns at her, giving her the point.

She’s right. Your choice of fashion was never a matter of inconvenience during Saturday book club in the library. And you do sort of sport the grandma-chic. You should be fine.

Yet you can’t shake the slight intimidation you feel. You know it’s only normal to dwell on nerves or pre work interview jitters. As much cookie cutter corporate this isn’t you still want to do well. You still want his approval.

The intimidation dates back to two days ago. Mai had called you, having asked for your number to give you further details, and she gave you the good news! As she’d exclaimed.

“His assistant will call you to arrange an interview. It’ll probably be sometime this week.” Mai’s voice still held the same enthusiasm as it did a couple of minutes prior during her call with Jungkook.

“That sounds perfect,” you say, although you have to force the words out of you. You weren’t expecting everything to unfold so quickly.

“You’ll do good. Soori will love you.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, Mai. It- the timing was just right.” You don’t feel like putting any pressure on her by admitting just how desperately you need this. This is just an interview after all.

“Trust me, likewise.” She says this and it leaves you wondering for a minute. Her voice sounds serious, but you don’t press.

You’re about to say your goodbyes but her words stop you.

“Jungkook.” She says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Huh?” You frown, a bit lost by the prior.

“Jeon Jungkook. That’s his name. Just realized I never told you.”

Jeon Jungkook. It’s in the name. That’s where your intimidation stems from. He sounds like he belongs in the list of professors you avoided in university. The ones that led the elective subjects you took to build up credit. Like accounting and introduction to physics 01. You shudder at the thought.

Another look-over your messy clothes sprawled all across your bed earns you another shudder, followed by a loud groan.

Lucy scams through it, giving it one last glance before she grabs a handful of yellow fabric. She doesn’t gravitate towards it for any reason in particular – simply with the intention to ease your torment and put an end to this discussion.

“Here. Wear the yellow dress.” She says, sure of herself, even though she has no idea what the yellow dress actually looks like. It could be one of your grandma chic but make it ass cheek length for all she knows.

But the angels are on Lucy’s side today and when you reach for the dress, holding it against your body as you stare at the mirror, it’s not half bad. It cuts in a straight line over your chest, fabric rouching slightly at the top before it falls seamlessly right above your knees. Discreet enough. Cute bows at the strings that hold it over your shoulders, too. You are keen on the gardening look, aren’t you?

“It needs a cardigan.” You say, reaffirming your previous realization.

“How Victorian of you. Please refrain from showing any ankle – the man might have a heart attack. I heard nine months old are judgy, too.” Lucy remarks.

“I was planning on wearing my converse – is that too casual?” You ask, completely ignoring her witty remarks. She rolls her eyes at you and watches you pace around your room, trying to tidy up the mess you’d make.

You’re looking through your cardigans when she breaks the silence.

“What do you think happened?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning around, eyes meeting her serious ones.

“I mean, single dad… desperately in need for a nanny… rich, assuming from his side of town. Do you think something happened? Where’s the baby mama?” Your eyes widen at her last question.

“Well, I don’t know. But I’m sure it isn’t any of the crazy scenarios flashing through your mind right now. Probably a messy divorce or something.” You declare.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Soo, look here, baby. Open wide!” Jungkook’s words feign cheerfulness but they’re bordering on a plead. As he brings the spoon closer to Soori’s mouth she lets out a high-pitched shriek. By far the loudest since this whole ordeal unfolded twenty minutes ago.

Her eyes are swollen, wet with tears that fall down her face that’s now red from all the crying and screaming lunch time has provoked. The first few days she refused solid food had Jungkook giving in – cradling her in his arms as he bottle fed her until she calmed down. But it’s been three days of this and he needs to be a parent.

So that’s where his Thursday lunch break finds him – standing in front of a very angry baby, completely clueless, a colourful assortment of pureed baby food adorning his kitchen island. Soori’s cries come to a surprising stop and he knows she’s not only tired but also hungry. He tries again, lowering the spoon to her, holding in his breath as she just stares at it. She kicks, body jumping so abruptly inside the confinity of her high chair it startles Jungkook, hands coming to hold her still as he shushes her gently.

Amidst the sea of broken feelings that slowly tear him apart this is perhaps the most painful. He didn’t think Soori would be so receptive to her mother’s departure. Jungkook doesn’t know if her change of demeanour is a reaction of his sulking and suffering, or if she feels Ira’s absence more than he can give her credit for. She’s just so little. Bliss still carries her through most mornings and nights – they were Jungkook’s to begin with, as he took every chance he possibly could at home to spend with her. He likes to believe that her mother’s missing presence isn’t something she doesn’t quite grasp by notion. But he can’t deny that she feels it by instinct. His heart breaks all over again at her innocence. He wonders if she’s confused, tries to decipher her feelings as he stares at her. Her mouth opens and closes in breathy whimpers. His eyes sting with the promise of a new set of tears at the feeling.

“Mr. Jungkook?” Mrs. Chae’s dulcet voice startles him. She looks apologetic when he jumps at the sight of her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Your assistant has just called to remind you about your interview, sir. I thought I’d let you know.”

Fuck. The interview. In the middle of lunchtime chaos, he’d managed to forget about it.

“Uh- yes. Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Chae,” he takes a glimpse at his daughter, whom he still hasn’t manage to feed. He feels like a failure.

“If you want, I can try?” she says, referring to the get the baby to actually eat ordeal he was engaged in a minute ago.

“I’d appreciate that, yes.” She’s an old lady, and although sweet, lacks the patience to deal with the babysitting duties she’d had to take on ever since Ira left. But Jungkook needs all the help he can get, so he accepts hers. “If she keeps fussing just give her a bottle. She needs to eat.” She simply nods. He feels slightly judged – he keeps breaking. Stuck between a wall and a dead-end street. A bottle or starving his nine-month-old. A really easy one, yeah.

He leans down, kissing Soori’s forehead, whispering, “be good, baby.”

He makes his way from the kitchen to the living room, his pace picking up as he walks straight to the guest bathroom before he locks it.

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights as his back leans against the door, body sliding against it until he hits the floor. He breaks. It’s not the loud sobs he let out the first couple of days – he’s pretty sure he’s ran out of those. It’s the silent tide of tears that build in the corners of his eyes as his lost gaze penetrates an empty spot. He stares so hard until his line of vision goes blurry and he blinks. And only then do the tears fall. He doesn’t know why he suppresses them anymore. He’s just so fucking tired. He doesn’t know where the pain starts nor does he know where it ends. It’s just there. Silent, cold, sharp. An all-consuming overwhelm that shares his days and nights – backstabbing him just when he thinks it’s getting better.

He starts to get angry – what he’s come to identify as step two of his emotional vortex. But before he can fully register it, the doorbell rings, saving him from himself.

Your fingers hover over the doorbell. The touch screen doorbell. You try not to but your mind races with, quite frankly, unproductive thoughts.

Who even needs this much technology? You direct your gaze up, taking in the sight in front of you. People that live in such humble abodes like this one, you think. The house resembles something out of those Architectural Digest magazines you skim through in the library to kill time. It reminds you of a cut out you pasted in your vision board – idea courtesy of none other than Lucy after reading one chapter from The Secret.

it’s big, that’s to put it lightly. The shape almost boxy – wide and long, walls a contrast between white and dark mahogany wood. Two palm trees adorn the entrance, one taller than the other, side by side. Palm trees? You’re gawking now, you know you are. Three cars take up the vast parking space – two that seem to be identical, only in different colours. Black and white. That’s cliché, even for you. A Range Rover comes to view at the far end, almost towering the two coupes – it’s black. You have to admit it’s a satisfying colour palette. But who needs three cars? You shake your head, catching yourself before you free-fall into the incessant prying.

You make a mental note to stop staring as you fixate your gaze back to the door. Your eyes come back to the doorbell.

Does it ever run out of battery?

You’re about to reason with your brain on why that is a stupid question when the front door swings open from the inside. You tense up slightly, running your hands down the front of your dress nervously as your eyes come up to take in the sight before you.

Now, as afore mentioned, you’re not one to shy away from a good cliché; but the one before you finds you perplexed, to say the least.

He’s tall – so much so you have to shift your gaze upwards to meet his face. And when you do, you’re met with something you can’t quite put into words. But he doesn’t need words. His beauty speaks sonnets you’ll never be able to utter with ordinary words – so ethereal you quickly come to an spoken understanding. His hair is dark and thick, falling softly on top of his forehead, parting at the middle. His eyes look red and even though they’re a bit fallen they look impossibly big – if you look long enough, they become starry. You think your own eyes are deceiving you but when he blinks slowly and opens them again, you’re met with galaxies.

He’s managed to make formal attire look effortlessly casual. You take him in – black slacks, perfectly fitted against his toned legs. His white dress shirt exposes more skin than your sanity can bear, the three top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up. Tattoos that seem to be never ending adorn his right arm that maintains a tight grip on the door as he holds it open for you.

“Mr. Jeon?” Your voice mirrors the confusion that inhabits your head. The title feels off – this man looks like he could’ve been part of your graduating class. But who makes it this big after three months post grad?

The left side of your brain, also known as rationality, hopes this is not Jeon Jungkook, the man about to interview you. For a potential job. To babysit his daughter.

But the right side of your brain hopes it is.

“Just Jungkook is fine.”

Damn it.

“Uh- come in, please.” He says, making way in the entrance for you to step in.

It’s bright – the house illuminated by the light coming from the endless windows that take up the space, floor to ceiling, east to west. The minimal décor perfectly complemented by a perfect view of the boundless shade of green that make up the backyard; the blue of the pool reflecting against the glass.

“Here, my office’s this way. Follow me.” His voice breaks you out of your trance and you nod, following right behind him.

His strides are determined yet effortless, mimicking his essence alone. But you can’t stop thinking about his eyes – bruised with what seems like lack of sleep and red veins so prominent around his irises you wonder if it’s the prior or if he’s been crying.

Stop prying.

He comes to a stop in front of a door that he holds opens for you, letting you go in first. You smile at the action. He doesn’t return it.

“Please,” he gestures to one of the chairs and you sit down, opposite to where you assume he’ll be sitting; a wide table, that matches the overall décor of the house, separating the two of you.

He looks at the tray Mrs. Chae has left for the two of you, seeing his usual coffee order has doubled. He quirks a brow, taking one look at you, but you seem to be lost as you take in your surroundings. He grabs both glasses, placing one in front of you.

“Thank you.” You say, voice soft.

He rounds the desk and comes to sit in front of you, settling into the chair before he takes a sip from his coffee. He clears his throat and this makes you straighten up in your seat. Here we go, you tell yourself.

“Do you have any questions for me before we start?” His gaze finally meets yours, undivided for the first time since you walked inside his home.

But his question takes you aback. He looks like the type to shove you abruptly into the enquiry portion of the interview.

“Um…,” you’re already stuttering and Jungkook tries not to but he looks exasperated. “The dynamic,” you attempt to answer with secureness, “what does it look like?”

His left eyebrow quirks rapidly at your question, almost instinctively. “She’s nine months old. She naps two to three times a day. Solid food three times a day,” his voice shakes at this, “formula four times a day. Quick bath throughout the day if she gets messy, a long one before bed time. Goes through diapers like she’s keeping Pampers afloat. Enjoys anything loud with buttons during her free time.” The last two remarks are more sarcastic than they are funny. Condescending even.

“And yours?” He doesn’t miss the slight irritation in your voice, although you look impassive.

“My…?”

“Dynamic. What does it look like?”

Your question aggravates him slightly. If he were to answer it with outmost sincerity, you’d probably label him as a bad father – a weak one even. He thinks about Soori right now, probably propped up against her favorite pillow in the couch as she suckles on her bottle. The word discipline swarms his thoughts. He frowns. She’s nine months old for God’s sake.

He composes himself before replying, “I work at the office, though I’ve been working from home more often lately. Mornings and nights she spends with me. Lunch time, too, when I’m home. I tend to have seasons where work requires more travel than others, but that time hasn’t come so I’m yet to figure it out. I don’t work on weekends unless strictly necessary.” The brief but packed run down comes to an end but all you can do is remain silent in your seat; eyes still glued to his. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” your murmur.

“Your work experience is… not ideal for this sort of job. Are you aware?” Now you know why he’s loaded. He’s a fucking shark.

“I am aware.” You badly want to say something, anything, to save your ass but your mind is at a complete blank at his unashamed boldness.

“What do you really want to do?”

“Pardon?”

He exhales loudly. “What career path do you want to pursue? Did you go to school? – Mai told me you volunteer at the library – is that something you want to do long term?”

Damn, he’s ruthless.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve brought a CV of some sort-”

“Yes, you should’ve. But you didn’t. So, we’re just going to have to work with what we have.” He says, interrupting you.

You look up at him, your sincere eyes meet his. They look as tired as they did when he first greeted you. You try to steady your breathing, easing your mind as you pose a brave front.

“I majored in Literature – out of sole passion. I didn’t really think about where it would land me when I started, I just did it because I loved it. I graduated three months ago and no, I don’t love it any less. Even if my degree hasn’t landed me nowhere you’d consider successful.” He visibly winces at your words. “I quit my job at a bar because the atmosphere was making me feel uncomfortable. The library felt comforting enough so I stuck to that. It makes me happy. Volunteering, I mean. Not in the selfless way you’d probably think but in a it brings me more peace of mind than it does them way, I guess. They’re kids, nothing holds their amusement for long enough. I’d hope the books and my words do, but I can’t know that for sure. I’m just a tiny slice of their week. But that’s fine by me.”

Jungkook gapes at you. He takes your words in and has to admit your sincerity takes him by surprise. You’ve uttered more words in the last two minutes than you have since you arrived. His head is pounding. He doesn’t believe you’re any more qualified just because you had a burst of honesty spill out of you. But he’d be a fool not to regard you with admiration for it.

At his silence, you continue, “I don’t know what career path I want to pursue. Or maybe I do, but it somewhat scares me. I like to write, but it’s a tough industry to break into. I’m not worried or desperate to know, though. I don’t know how long it took you to amount to all your success – you look fairly young to me. But I believe even the most successful of people felt at least a little lost at twenty-three,” you catch yourself slipping into a cliché so you mask it with a, “or whatever.”

He nods, but it doesn’t necessarily convey approval. It’s more so as if he’s digesting everything you’ve unloaded onto him. You don’t care at this point; having come to terms you didn’t stand a chance in Jeon Jungkook’s nanny boot camp to begin with.

“I agree,” he says and his words find you wide eyed. “I don’t even believe most people should decide on something they’ll take on for the rest of their lives that young. I wouldn’t necessarily say you’re lost, though. Finding your way seems to be a more fitting term.”

His words are comforting and the warm feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach travels all the way up until it settles in your chest. They feel almost welcoming, even as his gaze remains stern.

“You didn’t ask and at this point you probably don’t care but… I’m a fast learner and there are a couple of things in life that come naturally to me and I’ve been told that kids are one of them.”

He nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile before he’s pushing his chair back and coming to a stand. You follow his movements, walking alongside him in silence as you exit his office.

You don’t expect the loud shriek that echoes through the walls when you walk down the corridor, back to his living room. Concern laces his features and he walks a little faster, but when you make it to the living room and past the front door you don’t know if you should keep following him.

You do anyways.

Upon entering the kitchen you’re met with one hell of a sight. Sat in a high chair is whom you presume to be Soori. A very unhappy version of her, anyways. She’s kicking and screaming so loud you fear she might break free from her constraints, the baby harness holding her back every time. You know she’s upset when her cries are also met with tears – real tears. Not crocodile ones babies often times shed when they can’t express discomfort so they just cry. In front of her, Mrs. Chae is holding a bottle and a pink plastic bowl, eyes going from one to the other and then to Soori, in complete desperation.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook says, coming to stand next to them.

“She- she won’t take her bottle. I tried the puree again but she doesn’t want that either. I’m sorry Mr. Jungkook.” Mrs. Chae says.

“Has she been crying this whole time?” He asks. Mrs. Chae simply nods.

The both of them keep going back and forth, with Jungkook asking how many ounces she had, if the bottle was perhaps cold. Or too hot.

You look at Soori, who’s crying hasn’t come to a cease, if anything getting louder at her dad’s arrival. You can see the grabby hands she makes at him and it tugs at your heart a little. You walk over to her. She’s probably the cutest baby you’ve ever seen – even when her chubby cheeks are flushed from all the crying and her eyes are swollen. A silky, single strand of black hair is held up by a pink bow – hair coming up in a little sprout. Adorable.

She looks just like her dad – button nose and big doe eyes. Not to mention the puffy cheeks.

Your next move is bold but you know this works. Well, you don’t know for sure but you can try. Her exasperation is getting to you too at this point. You reach for one of the bowls on the kitchen counter – a mush of what smells like peas. You plop a dollop of the puree in the table of her high chair. She looks confused at first, taking in the stranger in front of her and then the green glob that adorns the once impeccably white surface. You notice just how clean she is, as well. You’ve never seen a child this clean during lunch time.

After a couple of seconds her cries come to a stop. She looks at you one last time before she redirects her gaze to her food – hands curiously coming to smack at the mushy peas. Jungkook turns around at the sudden quietness. His eyes look like they’re about to burst out of his skull when he sees his daughter stare at her messy fist, hand covered in baby food. She observes it tentatively before bringing it to her mouth, her whole hand coming past her lips as she nibbles on its content. She looks nonchalant to say the least but when her hand repeats the movement, shoving another handful into her mouth, he feels like he could cry of relief.

“How-” he starts, flabbergasted.

“Um… she’s not going to feel fully comfortable with the sight and texture of the food if she doesn’t get a chance to explore it with her hands first.” You answer.

Soori hums in sweet satisfaction as she feeds herself. Jungkook turns to her, big toothy smile at his baby’s new found sound. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face take on that expression.

“Is it good, baby?” he coos and she smiles back at him, nose scrunching up imitating her father’s, mushy peas up to her hairline.

You smile. God, they’re cute.

But you know this is your queue. You adjust your bag strap over your shoulder, clearing your throat as you prepare to say goodbye and turn around. You can see yourself out.

“Thank you for-”

His next words nearly give you whiplash and it takes you a while to process them.

“When can you start?”

“And then what did you say?” Lucy listens to your detailed recollection of the recent events. She nods and winces and shakes her head at the brutal recount.

“Well, I was about to say goodbye. Yes, that chubby cheeked baby was calling my name but I couldn’t get out of there faster. But then,” you pause, remembering the exact moment, a little too vividly as his voice echoes in your memory.

“What! What?” Lucy’s eyes are attentive, never once leaving your face. But her hands follow another agenda, filling a shot glass to the brim, the clear liquid spilling a bit as she waits for your bomb to kaboom! In her face. This one’s looking exceptionally ghastly. She figures tequila could ease the impact.

“He asked me when I could start.” You finish.

“Wait, what? Come again?” She all but slams the bottle as she sets it back down on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah. I think it even took him by surprise. He went on to tell me that we could take a week of testing the waters before I signed the contract.” You tell her.

“The contract? Who are you babysitting? The next heir to the British throne?”

You laugh at this, “no. She’s cuter than any of those royal babies.” She smiles, downing the shot of tequila that she’d originally destined for you. You don’t need it. Neither does she but, oh well.

“And, Lucy… his assistant emailed me the contract, just in case I had something I wanted to negotiate,” you say, voice coming to a whisper.

“And?” She asks, confused.

“Think sleazy bar pay check,” she winces, “now double that.”

“Oh.”

“Now add one of those good months that I would get my work published and we could buy the fancy marmalade,” she nods in excitement, “now double that.”

“We’re RICH!” She screams, hands coming to hold yours as you both jump up and down to the beat of her movements.

“There’s only one problem,” you say, stilling.

“What?”

“His face…”

“What about it?”

“Picture an angel,” your gaze softens, she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah…”

“Picture the perfection,”

“I am, I am.” Lucy returns, eyes dreamy.

“Now double that.”

Jungkook enters his bathroom, mind busy with the weight of the day. Bed time went smoothly but he knows Soori will be up in two hours or so. He mentally prepares himself for another night of rocky sleep.

He reaches for his toothbrush, lathering a generous amount of toothpaste on top before letting the water run over it. He hates mundane tasks like these – his mind having to come to a halt, to fixate on the domestic. He thinks about Ira. He can’t help it. He pictures the routine they’d adapted for the past three years – imagines what she looked like brushing her teeth next to him. They’d stand next to each other in comfortable silence, aggressive silence and on really good days, mumbles between mouthfuls of toothpaste, talking about their days, his arm around her waist as he pinned her to the marble counter.

He can’t help but wonder where she is. If she’s well. If she cries at night when she turns off the lights the way he’s grown accustomed to since she left. He wonders if she misses Soori – her baby smell, the squish of her cheeks, the round of her eyes taking her in. She thinks about the fact she missed one of her milestones today – that satisfied hum when she enjoyed her mushy peas.

He wonders if she misses him, too.

He remembers the mess Soori had made during lunch, having to wash baby food off her hair afterwards. Ira would’ve rolled her eyes at the sight. She never liked it when she made a mess.

He wonders what she would think of you, of his decision to have you look after their baby.

He stops his train of thought.

His baby.

The realization exhausts him further and he heads to bed. He wonders when it’ll get easier. When it will stop hitting him in the face every time he lets his mind wonder in meaningless back and forth. He knows the answer to all of his previous questions – none of them are what he wants to hear.

He tugs his hoodie off with one hand, throwing it to the side before he gets under his covers. He sighs, a groan leaving his mouth at the feeling of the pillow against his head. His eyes close instinctively.

And then he thinks about you.

He’s spent a good portion of his day thinking about you, to be fair. The wellbeing of his daughter at the frontline of his thoughts, whether he made the right decision or not. He’d made up his mind pretty early into the interview and all it took was a happy baby enjoying mushy peas for him to break. He’s regretted his decision at least a dozen times today. But then during dinner time he mimicked your actions, an assortment of foods cut into small bites spread in front of Soori for her to explore. She was eating so fast he had to stop her twice and he got to hear her sweet little mmm a handful of times. That was enough for him to break again.

But as he nuzzles into his pillows his thoughts are not laced with parenting. He thinks about you. He doesn’t exactly follow the direction of his train of thought but he’s too tired to stop it.

He thinks of the words you so openly shared with him. He thinks of the way vulnerability took over your face in a way he’d never seen it shown so visibly in anyone before. He thinks about your yellow dress that all but startled him when he opened his front door, so bright you almost looked out of place. He tries to remember what you smelled like. He can’t put his finger on it. In fact, he doesn’t think he even focused on it long enough to remember. Honey, camelias, lavender, roses, wood- he stops himself. It’s a thought with a dead-end street. He finds no point in dwelling.

You were wearing high top converses.

Something about that makes way to his brain and he can’t quite explain it. Perhaps it’s an innocence he doesn’t interact with anymore. He thinks about twenty-three-year-old him – just as lost as you. He smiles but it’s unconscious as he slowly begins to succumb to a much-needed sleep. He thinks you look like a feeling buried down deep in his memory. He’s too tired to put a name to it but as his brain begins to shut down, his vulnerability comes afloat, cradling him. The feeling doesn’t have a name but it comes in a memory he’s not so sure it entirely belonged to him. Perhaps it’s a deep longing he stored inside his heart many years ago.

Salt water. The smell of Taehyung’s parents beach house. Sixteen. Slow days. A fight between innocence and desire. Infatuation masked by love. Promises of forever. Names that danced with his. Lemonade. His first sip of beer. Mrs. Kim’s lemon pie. An old beat-up jeep. Wind. Sand. Days so long they never truly eased into night. Sunrise escapades. The stars in the sky. And yellow. So much yellow.

If u made it this far can we talk about cute, soft, in-between-awake-and-asleep jk being all dreamy and reminiscing!!!! that was so hot of him. i truly hope you enjoyed – this story has been so fun to write so far and my mind is already working like rents due to whip out chapter three as fast as i can!! i, too, can’t wait for the sexy stuff, don’t worry. jk needs healing but its on its way!! hold on tight. also i will make it my purpose to get my girl lucy a match made in heaven for this fic bc she deserves the world. Thank u for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought of the chapter – i love talking to u guys. sending loads of love always!! xxxxx

STREAM PERMISSION TO DANCE IF U WANT DADDY JUNGKOOK TO FEEL BETTER OK he told me to tell u xx

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rhaenyratargayen · 4 years

Text

home for the summer // f.w.

summary: song fic based off of home for the summer by sara kays (no war!au)

word count: 5.2k

warnings: mentions of alcohol (just wine), also just heartbreaking angst.... im sorry

We started getting close

Freshman year, when all our friends were smoking cigarettes

And we couldn't stand that secondhand smoke

So we'd leave and drive around until you had to drop me off at home

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Fred whispered to the girl beside him.

Y/N looked to him as if he had read her mind. She perked up, nodding desperately at Fred who slyly slipped his hand in hers and pulled her away from the group drinking fire whiskey in the common room.

It was a breath of fresh air stepping out of the portrait hole, the dim lighting of the candles illuminating Hogwarts in the most comfortable way. Fred tugged her hand, shifting her attention from the new atmosphere to his tall figure practically bouncing down the staircase.

“Was getting quite stuffy in there, don’t you agree?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as he scrunched his nose. A hint of excitement Fred was trying to contain leaked through the tug at the corner of his lips. Whether he tried to hide it or not though, Y/N saw it anyway, she knew him quite well.

“Completely.” Y/N breathed, grinning as she agreed.

Fred was quite outgoing, he never missed the chance to be the center of attention, finding any opportunity he could to show off his charming flirting skills or his new products for the shop he planned to own with George. So, it was quite a surprise when he whisked Y/N from the loud group, but she chose not to question it, considering it meant alone time with him.

She followed his lead quietly, figuring whatever secret spot Fred had in mind had to be better than anything she could come up with. He’d snuck around the castle more times than he could count, and as much as he found himself in detention, she trusted him enough to get them to a quiet spot without getting caught.

Finally, at last, Y/N followed Fred’s lead up the steps of the astronomy tower. He smiled proudly to himself when he turned to see her smiling in awe. Of course, they had classes up there weekly, but she had yet to experience the tower in all of it’s glory – and at night and with Fred Weasley.

“Oh, Freddie.”

She walked towards the edge, gripping the railing and admiring the view of the bright moon before her, peering out as far as she could at such a height. Fred’s chest warmed at her smile, priding himself on being the cause of it.

She took her time taking in every detail, perking up when she recognized one of the constellations she had learned about in class. While she awed over the stars, he awed over her. It was ridiculously adorable how much she loved it. He’d snuck up to the astronomy tower multiple times and he mentally kicked himself for not taking her up there sooner.

As she deemed her viewing acceptable for the time being, Y/N remembered her reality and felt her ears warm up. The entire time she was standing there, Fred was behind her. She suddenly felt out of place, as well as a bit guilty for not speaking to him for the past few minutes. However, as she turned around she was immediately met with the cutest smile on his face and she couldn’t even remember what it was she was worried about.

He stood before her with his hands tucked into his pockets, shifting his gaze to his shoes when she turned to face him.

“Fred?” Y/N questioned.

She leant back against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head slightly.

Fred’s gaze skipped from his shoes to hers, slowly raking up her body until they landed back on her own eyes. She was backlit by the moon, but he was still able to recognize all of her features, whether it was due to just enough lighting or because he had stared at her enough in his lifetime to know them by memory, he didn’t know.

“Y/N?” Fred grinned, copying her tone.

“Why’d you want to leave the party?”

He felt a little taken back, not in a bad away, he just didn’t expect her to question him for wanting some alone time with her. She was his best friend after all, ridiculously funny and exciting to be around while simultaneously being a safe space for him to return to for some peace and quiet.

Y/N continued before he could answer.

“I mean you love parties, and they had fire whiskey, which I know you love.”

The fact rolled off her tongue without a second thought, but it didn’t stop Fred’s heart from skipping a beat at the mention of it. It didn’t take a genius to know Fred Weasley was a show off who loved to party, but the fact that she knew made it somehow more special.

“Yeah, but, I like spending time with you as well.”

Fred scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the heat creep up his cheeks as the sentence rolled off his tongue. When his gaze found hers again, he chuckled at the knowing grin she gave him.

“Aw, Freddie!” She teased, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.

Fred’s mind was clouded with witty comments he could make towards her, comments to make the beautiful glow of a blush rush to her cheeks or to bring out her harmonious giggle he heard when he teased her. But he found them getting caught in his throat as he felt her hands lightly tugging at the hairs on the back of his neck.

She didn’t pull back completely after she kissed his cheek, just far enough to look at his face and still be in his arms. Fred had snuck his arms around her waist, resting their gently and absentmindedly fiddling with the soft cotton material of the hem of her shirt. She looked so gorgeous. The sight of her eyes reflecting the great big moon was enough to have him weak at the knees and a puddle in her hands; which he was.

“What’re you looking at?” Y/N tried to joke, but it came out much softer as she realized she was more focused on how he was looking at her than the reason why.

Fred Weasley was one attractive bloke, this she knew. He was quite fit, tall figure and strong beater arms. But it was the softness in his features when he looked at her that had her swooning.

“You just,” Fred bit his lip, “You look very pretty.”

Y/N exhaled a sweet giggle, desperately trying to hide her burning cheeks. She reached up and tightened her hold around him, pulling Fred into a hug against her. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck and held her back tightly, pushing their chests together. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, trying to calm the herd of butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“Thanks, Freddie.” She mumbled, she knew he heard it.

When Fred pulled back, he kept his hold tight against her and looked down into her eyes. One hand came up to swipe a stray piece of hair behind her ear and fell to rest holding her chin in between his thumb and pointer fingers.

She knew what was coming, she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing down to his lips. Fred’s heart fluttered as he watched her, giving him the cue that she was just as into it as he was. So he didn’t keep her waiting.

Fred pressed his lips to hers, slowly at first, to test the waters. Just the initial feeling of her soft lips against his was like heaven on earth. It wasn’t until she moved against him that he realized it only got better. She tugged on his bottom lip, raking it through her teeth and sliding her fingertips through his fiery hair.

He gripped the material of her shirt in his hands at the feeling, humming pleasurably into her mouth. He was starving and she was a feast made for ten. He inhaled her scent and reveled in the way her tongue grazed his so elegantly, like everything else she did.

He could tell she was close to running out of breath, considering how quickly the pace of their kiss had picked up, once they realized everything they wanted was in each other’s hands. But she didn’t pull back, she pushed herself further into him and he melted, tugging her closer. She was pink silk and white daisies, cozy blankets and diamond rings, a plethora of the most heavenly sensations all mixed into one.

In that moment, Fred Weasley knew he was in love with her.

Swear that was yesterday

But in two weeks I'll be moving south

And you'd be moving to a town that I had never heard of

I wish we had more time, why did I ever wanna grow up?

“Freddie!” Her voice carried swiftly through the burrow, alerting Fred in the other room.

“What is it?” He quickly stumbled into the living room.

She stood before him with a letter in her hand and a smile on her face.

“I got in!” She cheered, “They accepted me!”

Fred was in shock. His body failed him, freezing in his place, standing before her in complete silence and not holding his arms out to her, kissing her forehead and congratulating her on her accomplishment. His brain was screaming at him to move, and he was so very grateful that she took the first step, too engaged in her initial shock to see his unwelcoming position.

She jumped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and pulling him to her. Fred snapped into it at her touch, immediately enclosing her waist in his arms. He felt like he had to remind himself to breathe, to make sure he didn’t drop her from his hold.

After graduating Hogwarts, Y/N applied for a position at a Magical Creatures center in Romania. Charlie had told her about the position on his last visit home. Y/N was very passionate, and everyone around her knew she would never be satisfied with a job at the ministry or as a professor in Hogwarts. It was no surprise when she jumped at the opportunity and sent in her application.

The night Charlie had informed her of the position, Fred was the one she turned to with a wide smile, cheeks hurting from the overwhelming joy she felt. It made his heart flutter that he was the one she turned to celebrate her opportunity with. Of course, he never actually planned out far enough what it would feel like when she actually left.

Leaving. She was leaving.

Fred rubbed her back comfortingly with his large hand, holding her in place against his chest with his other hand. He set her down, noticing the tears of joy that pooled in her eyes as he pulled back to look at her.

“That’s wonderful, love,” He feigned the best smile he could, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Freddie.” She beamed, rising on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.

Was now too soon to ask? Fred didn’t have time to wonder before she let it out.

“They said they’ll have me as soon as possible,” She cleared her throat, “I reckon that means I’ll be going after the holidays.”

Two weeks. Fred had two weeks left with the love of his life, who wasn’t even his girlfriend.

He hated himself for that last part, constantly overthinking every moment he had with her at Hogwarts. He should have told her loved her when he took her to the astronomy tower, but his chance was lost. It would be unfair of him to blurt out such a confession weeks before she was about to leave to her dream job.

You said you’ll see me

When we’re home for the summer

We won't have to work so we're gonna

Do whatever the hell we wanna

'Cause we know that one day we'll be

Gone from each other

The ring of the bell above the door to the joke shop caught Fred’s attention. It was after hours, although often they had a few kids trying to come in just moments after they closed, begging to have a look around. He prepared himself for that, some eleven or twelve year old that ignored the closed sign.

“We’re closed–“

He stopped in his tracks. Of all the sights Fred expected to see rounding the corner in the shop, this was by far the best one he could have ever imagined.

Y/N stood before him, a cheeky smile on her face as she had successfully caught her favorite prankster off guard. Her hair was more grown out than the last time he saw her a few months ago, a pink, summer dress hugged her body. She looked ethereal. The warm summer weather had given her a bit of a glow and she’d done her makeup to highlight her cheekbones and the gloss on her lips.

“Miss me?” She quipped.

She squealed as Fred rushed towards her, wrapping her in his arms and spinning her around a few times in the empty shop. Her giggle was music to his ears, he missed that sound so much. He missed the feeling of her in his arms and the twinkle in her eye when she smiled at him.

He missed his girl.

“Of course I missed you, darling,” He beamed, “When did you get back?”

He set her back down on her feet, keeping his hands on her waist. He felt dizzy, he didn’t know if it was from spinning her around or just being in her presence again after so long. Seeing her up close allowed him to admire all the little things he fell in love with, like the curve of her nose and when she looked up at him through her lashes, when her hair fell naturally and he was able to tuck it behind her ear to see her face better.

“Just a bit ago, you’re my first stop.” She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand.

It was surreal to her, being back. It was only a six months but it was the longest she had ever been away from Fred. A flood of emotions burst through the floodgates as she was in his arms again, the sadness of missing him and the longing for his presence that she had tucked away so safely while in Romania. Her job didn’t allow her the time to sit and miss her best friend.

“You came to see me before your own mother?” Fred laughed.

Y/N scoffed, playfully, “She doesn’t know I got back early, I’ll see her tomorrow. I just couldn’t go home without seeing you first, Freddie.”

Fred tugged her close again, pressing a long kiss to her forehead as she curled into his embrace. She was home again, his girl was home.

We'd wait till after dark

2 AM, we're laying on the ground in my backyard

I told you I'd be waiting there the night that I get back

I hope you don't forget about that

Fred tugged Y/N’s hand in his, leading her through a field of wheat grass and wild flowers. A misfit blindfold was secured over her eyes, leaving Fred to be her vision. He kept glancing from their destination to the ground in front of her feet, trying to assure she wouldn’t trip and fall on a weed or a hole in the ground.

“Are we almost there?” She giggled. It came out as a whisper, as if they had someone to hide from in the vast, empty field.

“Be patient.” Fred chuckled, squeezing her hand.

Y/N sighed, “Fine.”

He led them further through the grass until they approached their destination. Fred was buzzing with anticipation, excited to see the look on Y/N’s face when he took the blindfold off. He had set up a blanket for the two of them to sit down on, along with a bottle of wine.

Finally he stepped towards her, resting his hand on her waist to let her know he was there. He reached up and gently pulled the blindfold from her face. She gasped once her eyes adjusted, smiling down in awe at the little set up. She felt her heart beat faster and turned to look at him, mimicking the same awed expression she had towards the spot made for them.

“You remembered.” She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes flitting between his brown ones and the blanket below them.

“Figured we could talk, catch up,” He shoved his hands into his pockets, “Sending owls just isn’t quite like the real thing.”

They sat down beside each other, fingertips dancing closely together as they rested back on their arms. Fred poured them a few glasses of wine to talk over. Fred told her about the success of the shop, how happy it made him to work with George and seeing the faces of little troublemakers coming in daily that reminded him of his youth. He told her about Hermione and Ron, finally getting together, and how Ginny was a professional quidditch player, things Y/N knew from the letters she sent back and forth from his siblings, but it was like hearing it for the first time when she got to hear it from Fred’s lips.

Fred marveled in the way she looked at him when he talked, like there was nothing more important than what he was saying to her in that moment, didn’t matter what it was he was saying, all that mattered was that he was saying it to her. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love to hear her talk even more. She told him about her time in Romania, staring at her in awe when she told him about the baby hippogriff she’d been caring for. It was clear to him that she was happy, that this was what she was meant to be doing.

So, Fred didn’t pull out the letter in his pocket. The letter confessing his love for her, the letter he daydreamed about her reading and running into his arms and kissing him senseless. He kept it sealed away, for another time he reasoned. He would wait till he knew she was ready, when she wasn’t so overwhelmed with the joy of her life countries away from him.

You said you’ll see me

When we’re home for the summer

We won't have to work so we're gonna

Do whatever the hell we wanna

'Cause we know that one day we'll be

Gone from each other

We'll have lives in two different suburbs

We'll have families with different lovers

But for now, I know I'll see you when we're

Home for the summer

His hands were sweaty, his breath caught in his throat. She was coming home, coming home to him.

Fred stood in the kitchen with Molly, setting the table and peering out the window every few minutes to check when Charlie and Y/N would be arriving. It was Christmas Eve, almost a year since Y/N had left to work in Romania. The last time he’d seen her was the night she surprised him at the shop, she had promised she’d visit once before the holidays, but he soon found out through her letters that work was getting too hectic for her to find an empty weekend to come home. It bummed Fred out, but it just made him more excited to see his girl on Christmas.

He patted his coat, mindlessly feeling for the letter sitting in his pocket. He hadn’t carried it around since she was last here and it only heightened his nerves that he was actually going through with it tonight. The paper of the envelope had faded to a dusty brown and the seal was losing its grip, but Fred still had full intentions of gifting it to her that evening and waiting for her out in the snowfall.

He peered out the window one last time, assuring he wouldn’t miss their arrival before trotting up the staircase to the bathroom. He ran his hand along his clean shaven jaw, and through his grown out hair. Not quite as long as the phase it went through his sixth year of Hogwarts, but just long enough that it fell softly to the sides, she had always liked it long, it was easier to run her fingers through.

Suddenly, Fred was taken from his memories to present day by the shout of his sister downstairs.

“Freddie!” Ginny called, “Y/N and Charlie are here.”

Fred ignored the blush creeping up his ears and rushed down the stairs, spotting the lot of the Weasley’s standing before the front door to welcome home their family. Charlie walked through the door first, whisking Ginny up in a hug and kissing her cheek before welcoming his mum in a bear hug. He said hello to his brothers, as he kicked off his boots and ventured off into the living room with Bill to show off the tiny dragon that sat on his shoulder.

“Easy, love.”

Fred froze in his spot. He didn’t recognize the voice that came before the sweet giggle of the love of his life.

In walked a tall man, dark hair and sharp features. Shiny, curly hair complimented his stippled facial hair. His skin was tanned from the Romanian weather, and it was easy to spot his strength as he carried in two bags. Y/N followed shortly after, sneaking in behind the tall man’s figure.

“Y/N!” Ginny cheered, racing past her family to engulf the girl in a hug.

“I missed you, Gin.” Y/N giggled, tumbling back a few steps at the impact of Ginny’s hug.

Y/N pulled back and spotted the confusion on the Weasley’s faces at their unknown guest. She cleared her throat and stepped forward.

“Everyone, meet Joshua.” She smiled shyly.

Fred felt like he was in an out of body experience, like he wasn’t really there. Like he was a ghost of himself watching a strange man intertwine his fingers with Y/N’s. He could see them and hear them, but he felt shackles tied to his feet, keeping him in place like he was stuck living a never ending nightmare.

He almost missed the bright eyed girl coming towards him with her arms open after greeting the rest of his family. Feeling her touch felt like crash-landing a back into his home. The muffled, white noise that filled his ears was now clear conversation between his brothers, and Ginny and Molly.

“I missed you so much, Freddie.”

He sank into her hold, fighting tears back. Her embrace filled him with warmth. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, lingering with the perfume that he inhaled when his head sank to the crook of her neck. He didn’t want to let go, but reluctantly pulled back as she did, letting his hands linger on the small of her back. He couldn’t get any words out, so he just smiled at her.

The family all took their seats at the set table. Y/N sat in between Fred and Joshua, and across from Ginny. She was conversing between the two, entertaining all the questions Ginny had about how they met and what work was like.

Joshua worked with Y/N at the Magical Creatures care center. He was the one who trained her. He told stories of how they bonded over caring for a phoenix that soon had the entire table listening. Joshua spoke so fondly of Y/N, highlighting the way so many of the injured creatures felt so comfortable around her which made it easy to care for them.

Fred tuned in and out of the conversation. His heart fluttered at the way he imagined her caring ever so gently for injured creatures, knowing that her eyes probably lit up as they released them again after rehabilitation. He wasn’t even there, yet he knew exactly how it would have played out. He knew her so well and found himself fighting the urge to rest his arm over the back of her chair as Joshua’s arm was already there.

It was an agonizing Christmas Eve dinner. Fred kept to himself, only half smiling over at Y/N when she nudged her elbow against his arm. Ron and Bill were indulged in a conversation with Charlie, enjoying having their brother back for holidays. Ginny, Molly and Arthur begged Joshua for more stories. George however, was too busy watching his lovesick twin brother look… actually sick. He’d flash him worried looks, only to be ignored by Fred.

“I think it’s time we retire to the living room, shall we?” Arthur announced, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stuffed stomach.

Fred was the first out of his chair, the sound of it scraping against the wood startled everyone surrounding him, but he was off before anyone could ask any questions, George and Ron followed shortly after. Bill patted Joshua’s shoulder and invited him to share a drink with him, Percy and Charlie, while Y/N and Ginny stayed behind in the kitchen.

“Oh, Y/N he’s absolutely charming.” Ginny awed, lightly shaking Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes, joining Molly at the counter to help brew some tea. Molly snickered to herself and turned to hand Y/N a warm mug. A thick, pottery mug with her first initial on it, a couple of doodles on the side.

“I must say, dear, he does compliment you very well.”

Y/N replied to Molly with a much sweeter response than Ginny, smiling thankfully at her.

“So,” Ginny lowered her voice, “Give us the details then, how long have you been together?”

Y/N sighed, grabbing the string of the tea bag and bobbing it in her tea.

“About six months. He asked me out shortly after I last visited here,” She finished, but glanced at Ginny’s curious eyes before continuing, “He’s very sweet, not only with me but with the creatures as well. It’s clear he’s got a heart of gold but –“

“But?” Molly placed a motherly hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“But,” Y/N sighed, “Part of me is still hesitant, you know? I just… I don’t know that he’s the one.”

“Y/N, darling, can I see you for a moment?” Joshua’s voice rang from the living room.

Y/N gave Molly and Ginny a tight-lipped smile before setting down her mug and sneaking past the table and into the living room. The boys were scattered across the room, occupying the couches and chairs.

“May I have a moment alone?” Joshua whispered to Y/N as she joined his side.

Her eyes were on Fred, well, the back of his head. He sat on the couch, resting his head in his hands. He didn’t turn around as she entered the room, he just sat in silence beside George.

Y/N sighed and smiled politely at Joshua, nodding to him as he slipped his hand in hers and pulled her out towards the back door. As they passed through the room, Y/N caught Charlie’s gaze, he sent her a wink and a cheeky smile. Her brows furrowed in confusion but she brushed off his behavior and shook her head.

Joshua led her out into the snowfall. Rather big snowflakes fell softly, resting atop Joshua’s dark locks of hair and catching in his eyelashes. He looked down at Y/N with a wide smile, expecting to see an expression that mimicked his own, but instead was met with an unsatisfied frown.

“Darling,” Joshua pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, “Smile for me.”

She obliged, putting on a sweet smile. She shut her eyes for a moment, feeling the cool air brisk at her soft cheeks, turning the tip of her nose pink. Her smile altered to a real one for a moment, a passing feeling of contentment in the backyard of the burrow. But it fell shortly after when she opened her eyes and realized the hand she was holding wasn’t Fred’s.

“Y/N, you are so special to me.” Joshua started, moving his other hand down to now hold both her hands in his, “I fell for you instantly when we met. It was so easy to fall in love with you, how sweet you are with the creatures, and how beautiful you are when they trust you. I just – I can’t imagine a life without you.”

Joshua released her hand to reach into his pocket. He took a step back and lowered himself to one knee. He pulled out a velvet box and opened it, the diamond ring immediately catching the light from the Christmas decorations and reflecting into the night.

“I know it’s only been six months but, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

She felt a pit in her stomach, overwhelming emotions flooded through her body seizing her movement. Her hand covered her mouth, enabling him from reading her expression. One hand still in his, she squeezed his hand and uttered out an answer.

Inside, the family of gingers crowded around the window, looking out into the backyard where the couple stood. Ginny clasped her hands together, watching with anticipation for him to slip the ring on her finger. Molly stood with Arthur and chewed her bottom lip, nervously. Bill, Percy and Charlie held small grins, watching the girl they had grown to take in as younger sister get proposed to. Ron and George held quite opposite expressions to their older brothers.

And Fred, he felt his stomach drop.

He quickly cleared his throat and excused himself, rushing up the staircase to the bathroom. He threw the door shut behind him after he entered. Hot tears began to stream down his face and he tried his best to keep the heartbreaking sobs from escaping. His hands tore at his hair, gripping tightly as he rests his head against the cool tile wall.

He ignored the quick pace of his breathing, and the sharp weight in his throat that kept him from breathing deeply and clearly. He choked on his sobs, biting his lip to keep quiet. He fumbled with his jacket and tore the letter out from his pocket. He held it in his shaking hands and squeezed tightly as another wave of hurt washed over him. The letter creased in his fist and he released it, watching it fall to the countertop.

He heard memories of her laughter in his mind, almost taunting him. He saw the wrinkle in between her brows as she read an interesting book and the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth. He felt the silkiness of her soft lips on his, and the way her fingers threaded through his hair.

And at last, with no hope in sight, Fred picked up the letter and tore it in two.

—————————————

part II

taglist: (ignore if you’ve already read this)

@starlightweasley @valwritesx @harrysweasleys @inglourious-imagines @cappsikle @whiz-bangs78 @levylovegood @wand3ringr0s3 @rogueweasleys @gloryekaterina @wolfstarsdaughter20 @charlieswanwhore

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley angst #hp imagines

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solsprint · 2 years

Text

( stats / bio )

hey guys i’m peepo (20+, he/they), really excited to be here! i’ll be introducing lee haksu, local country boy making his big seoul debut. he’s a year one bio major, 24 years old, and here as a stepping stone towards veterinary school (but also ended up taking a bunch of ceramics classes for self care). currently lives in the blue house, room 103. i’ll give a rundown under the cut - and feel free to drop a like on this post if you’d like me to suddenly appear in your mirror at the dead of night i mean... send u an im for plots!

a brief summary of this guy’s life (tw illness)

born & raised in a rural town outside of mokpo, south korea (but he usually just says he’s from mokpo because it’s easier)

he lives on a really small family-owned farm in the countryside. they sell produce to the people living in the surrounding area

the farmland is owned by his mother’s side, and then his father marries in from a slightly higher-class family. they have a kid (it’s haksu!), and then dad leaves home to pursue a better job opportunity… but ends up not really coming back, ever

so as he grows up he learns how to handle things at the farm from his grandparents and mom. dad comes to visit every blue moon, and sends them money sometimes

after he graduates high school he goes to do his military service and then comes back to the news that his mom has gotten really sick and his dad still isn’t able to come home, so he puts a pause on his future plans to stay home, take care of her, take care of the farm, and… pretty much do everything to keep them afloat while using all the money his father sends to fund medical expenses

it’s a very harrowing few years for him but they make it through it and his mom’s health improves a lot

now he has the time to pick up where he left off - which is to finally go chase his juvenile dream of becoming a veterinarian (starting with biology at hansung) + living in seoul

now with backstory out of the way - who is haksu anyway??

he is the guy in the back who tries to sneakily peel oranges and eat them during class but fails because he makes the whole room smell like oranges

he has a Lot of trouble speaking to people.. he’ll d-word at least seven times during a normal conversation with someone and look like a tomato at the end of it. basically all his skill points went towards cooking, fixing things, and general Life Stuff. none of it went towards social skills

he speaks in jeolla dialect like ↗↘↗↘↘↗↗↗ and has kind of a stutter (sorry to all non-native korean speaking muses)

his clothing style is Hand Me Downs & the free shirts you get from being a member of green sleeves (which is to say he has no sense of style, and is also poor)

he is a giant animal lover, they had chickens at the farm and he thinks about them a lot. he will hold bugs btw!! so he Will take that cockroach/spider outside for you

+ more school info!

he’s currently living in the blue house #103 (mostly for the cats)

as a student he tries really really hard! he was never super academically gifted but he’s passionate about learning bio since he’s trying to speedrun his way into becoming a veterinarian and making money

he’s also a member of the green sleeves + probably the least important member of the soccer team

he lost his way on campus early in the year and ended up infiltrating a ceramics class and he was like …. it’s going to be ok… i will wait for a good moment to leave when no one will notice… (then he accidentally stays for the entire class, and it was kind of fun actually)

and that was the birth of his minor!!

he makes bowls and stuff and is really meticulous about it, but once he gets to the painting phase things get really tricky for him bc he doesn’t have a good eye for colors and designs

plot ideas / general connection requests? maybe??

roommate dynamics w/ the rest of the blue house! (they’re gonna have to have a pet frog discussion eventually because haksu really really wants one)

classmates / study buddies

green sleeves members who hang out in the greenhouse

people who attend blue house parties (he hides in his room with one of the cats)

really awkward and honestly horrible first dates

these are all rly short and not detailed sorry but we can brainstorm new stuff and i’m excited to get to plotting with everyone!

#⤹ ⋆ ⸙͎۪۫ ｡ flyaway thoughts ( muse. ) ⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄#hs:intro

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queenofimagines · 4 years

Text

Stranger from Out of Town

Summary: Arvin had no reason to be here. After the things he’d done, he had no reason to be blessed with an angel like you. But after spending so long on the run, after spending so long looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the one person who made him feel safe. All is well and good in Arvin’s life until one determined and obsessed sheriff decides it’s time to pay Arvin a visit.

Notes: Ya’ll, this one’s a doosey but I hope you enjoy it anyways. For the purposes of this pic, Bodecker is still alive.

When Arvin woke up that morning he could feel that something was different. Arvin’s life had been flipped upside down by his own actions that had ultimately been what forced him to live his life on the run. He had spent the better part of a year running, zigzagging across the country in the hopes of shaking the authorities off; first traveling down to Georgia, then up to Iowa, then back down towards Texas and so on before finally finding permanent resident. Arvin knew what the rest of his life would look like from here on out. He understood that he would spend the rest of his time on God’s green Earth looking over his shoulder and never finding the quiet life he longed for. Arvin knew that he was cursed, from the moment his mother had died he had been plagued with loss and he was sure he was one of the unlucky souls who had come to be the Devil’s plaything. Arvin had expected that his life would forever be riddled with rot and chaos, damned to suffer through conflict after conflict after conflict. But when Arvin opened his eyes today to the sun streaming in through window and the sound of bacon sizzling coming from the kitchen, he finally understood what it felt like to be at peace.

Arvin swung his legs over the side of the bed, hauling himself up and making his way down the hall. His steps were heavy with sleep, shuffling against the floor loud enough to alert the person in the kitchen to his presence. As Arvin drew closer, he began to hear the hum of a song that was unfamiliar to him, just barely covered by the sound of someone flipping an egg, prompting him to hurry his steps to arrive at the delicious smell and the lovely voice that had almost lulled him back to sleep where he stood. Rounding the corner, Arvin couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. There you stood in front of the stove, still dressed in your nightgown, cooking a breakfast big enough for two.

Two. Such a simple word with such little meaning. An insignificant word that made Arvin’s heart swell with delight. It wasn’t just him anymore, alone and scared, no, now it was him and you. To Arvin, it was hope. Arvin watched as you plated the food you had prepared before turning around and flashing him an earth shattering smile. You would never know how much it meant to him, your smile, and that you were here, right now. You would never know the kind of stability you brought to him. And he planned to keep it that way, to keep you in the dark about all the things he’d done. To keep letting you believe he was just the stranger from out of town who stole your heart.

When you met Arvin, he was just a newcomer, a lost soul who had found your quaint little town practically in the middle of nowhere. He had stirred up quit a buzz when he walked into your parents’ little diner, asking if there was any place he could stay the night, but seeing as your town was so small, small enough that it could safely be left off of most maps and small enough that tourism wasn’t a main source of income, the answer was unequivocally no. Your father, who had been Arvin had the luck of plopping himself next to, informed him that the closest motel was almost a three hours drive away. Arvin remembered staring out the window, watching the last rays of light vanish, his hope along with it. It would be impossible for him to get someone to see him this late at night, let alone actually stop for him. Arvin felt like he could cry in that moment, but your mother, ever the good Christian woman, had offered to let him stay at your house until tomorrow morning. Arvin was grateful that your mother had been so kind, and in retrospect you were too, but you remembered how much you resented Arvin when your mother told you he would be staying with you. At first, you were all for it, one night with an attractive stranger from out of town in your house wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but the next day both Arvin and your father came home in the afternoon after they had supposedly left to take Arvin to the next town over earlier that morning.

“Turns out this boy knows his way around a car,” your father had said, beaming. He had later told your mother privately that he had offered Arvin a place to stay with your family and a smaller than average wage in exchange for his help around the shop. Your father owned the only car shop in town and was in desperate need of a new assistant, and seeing as you didn’t want anything to do with being a mechanic, your father saw Arvin as a golden opportunity, someone to possibly pass the torch to. Your mother was more than happy to let him stay, finding his handiness around the house useful, but you were less ready to welcome him into your life. Arvin had garnered a lot of attention, especially from the female population, and most of the girls at your school would pretend to be your friend in the hopes that you would invite them over, just so they could get a glimpse at him. It only got worse when your parents had commissioned Arvin to pick you up and drop you off to school. The girls would stare, trying to get a closer look at Arvin, a few of them even having the courage to go up and talk to him. It made you sick, that attention he got and how much he seemed to enjoy it. You had convinced yourself that it was skepticism about his character, but now that you look back on it, it was nothing more than petty jealousy that bubbled in your stomach. It was stupid, really, to be jealous that a boy was giving other girl’s his attention, especially since you hadn’t seemed very keen on the idea of him even being in your town, but what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the attention that Arvin enjoyed, it was the fact that in the people around him, in the kindness that people showed him, Arvin could see a future here; a future with you.

From the moment Arvin laid his eyes on you, he was smitten, he would even go as far as to say it was love at first sight. Arvin wouldn’t confess this to you until almost a year after you’d met when he tried to ask you to prom (with your parents’ permission, of course). It was honestly a train wreck and did not go at all how he had planned. Arvin had invited you out to the town’s gazebo, he had strung up lights as best he could and set up a nice little dinner for the two of you. He saw a figure slowly approach, thinking it was you, only to be disappointed when Susan Hall, who Arvin remembered you hated with a passion, stepped into the light and flung herself at him, telling him how sweet it was of him to do this and attempting to kiss him. You had seen the whole thing and, devastated, you ran away, Arvin chasing after you. He had caught up to you in the woods behind your parents’ property and explained what had happened, confessing that he loved you and only you. You believed him, and rightfully so, as you later found out that Susan had crashed your plans on purpose to try and steal Arvin from you.

Looking back on it now, with you leaning against his in the small house that you had bought the second you graduated high school with the little money both of you had saved up and some help from your parents, Arvin was glad he had ended up in your dreary town, no matter how complicated your relationship had been when it first started. He watched as you admired the ring on your finger, smiling at it as if you had been missing it all your life, the now empty dishes sitting in your sink waiting to be washed. It was times like this Arvin remembered why he had to keep his past life from you a secret. He loved you and often found himself wanting to tell you all about his past life. Every time you asked why he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders Arvin wanted nothing more than to tell you everything, but Arvin loved you too much to let you go and he couldn’t bare to think of what would happen if you knew what he did.

“Darlin’, I gotta get ready for work.” He said, lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“Why don’t you call in sick today,” you suggested.

“I would but your dad would kill me.”

“You know he loves you Arvin.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t wanna disappoint ‘im.” With one final kiss to your head, Arvin stood up and made his way to your shared bedroom. You began to clean the dishes, not having to go into the diner until later that day. As you began cleaning the last pan in the sink, a sturdy knock came from your door.

“I’ll get it!” You yelled, hearing Arvin begin to hurry to the front door. You had opened the door just as Arvin arrived at the end of the hallway. In front of you stood a tall man with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.

“Mornin’ ma’am, my name’s Lee Bodecker,” The man said. “I’m looking for a man named Arvin Russell and I heard I might find him here.”

“Arvin?” You repeated, confusion written all over your face. You turned to look at your husband, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. From where the sheriff stood, he couldn’t see Arvin, his figure being blocked by the door, but if he leaned ever so slightly to the left he might be able to peer into the house and see there was someone else there. You knew something was wrong, you had never seen Arvin look as scared as he did now, so without a second thought, you had gently closed the door so that your body filled the gap it created, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to feign nonchalance.

“I’m sorry, Mister, but there ain’t no Arvin Russell here. Whoever told you there was must have been misinformed.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sure as the hair on my head.”

“Oh, alright. Then may I ask who it was you called to just before you opened the door?”

“My husband.” You said after a long pause, caught off guard by the man’s question.

“Mind if I speak with him?”

“Well I don’t but I’m not sure how you’d feel about seein’ him naked. He’s takin’ a shower right now.” You began gently tapping your foot, your nerves beginning to get the better of you. You had never been all that good at lying, something about it made you feel wrong, dirty. But you needed to protect your husband, after all, it’s what he would do for you.

“Then would you mind if I waited.”

“Actually I would. I have to leave for work soon and, with all do respect, I don’t much like leaving a stranger unattended in my house.”

With a small nod and a tip of the hat, the man bid you goodbye, getting into his car and driving off. You closed the door and turned to Arvin. It was silent for a long time, you waited for Arvin to explain himself but Arvin didn’t know what to say. His worst nightmare was coming true and he was terrified that your love for him wouldn’t be strong enough to survive this.

“Arvin,” You said, as calmly as you could, not wanting to spook him or yourself anymore, though it proved a lot harder that you thought. “Why was that man at our door?”

Arvin opened his mouth as if to say something but for the life of him he couldn’t find the words. He was frustrated with himself, and from the looks of it you were getting pretty frustrated at him to.

“Arvin,” you said more firmly. “I just lied to a goddamn sheriff for you. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Arvin took a deep breathe before explaining everything to you. He told you about Lenora, and how hung herself. About the preacher and Bodecker and about Bodecker’s sister and her crazy husband. He explained everything he had done with complete and utter honesty. And he cried, longing to reach out for you but knowing his hands were too tainted to be worthy of ever holding something as beautifully pure as you. You didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, you understood his reasoning. To you, it seemed like the people Arvin had killed had it coming. But on the other hand, your husband had killed people. It didn’t matter what the reason was, taking a person’s life was a sin, something unforgivable in the holy book. Despite your better judgement, your decision ultimately came down to this: Arvin was your husband, and you loved him.

You slowly approached Arvin’s shaking figure, gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your hands through his hair. Arvin broke down into sobs, holding you impossibly close to him as if he needed you more than the air he breathed.

“Arvin,” You said once he had stopped crying, your own tears beginning to fall as you realized that there was only one option left for you both. “Arvin, we need to go.”

“What?”

“We need to go.” He gently pulled away from you, looking into your eyes, checking to make sure he heard you correctly.

“B-but this is our home.”

“I know Arvin, but that sheriff didn’t believe a word I said and he’s gonna be asking around town for you. It won’t be long until word of what you’ve done begins to spread. We need to leave before it’s too late.”

You gently ushered Arvin towards the bedroom and told him to begin packing a bag, unaware of the figure lurking at your backdoor. Bodecker had listened in on your conversation, hearing every word you and Arvin had spoken to each other, preparing for the right moment to make himself known. It was now or never, he thought, hearing you tell Arvin to pack a bag. As quietly as possible, Bodecker broke the lock on your back door, slowly making his way towards your bedroom. The door was wide open, he could see you and Arvin darting around the room trying to find your essentials. It was almost perfect, how unaware you both were. How wrapped up you were in yourselves that you didn’t even notice a 6 foot tall man practically right in front of you. With a sadistic smile, Bodecker raised his shotgun.

You froze when you heard someone pump a shotgun behind you, whipping around to find Bodecker standing just a few feet from you, gun aimed at Arvin. Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might burst, the thought of losing Arvin only increasing the adrenaline that was currently coursing through you.

“You thought you could get away, didn’t you?” Bodecker asked.

“Please, your sister and her husband, t-they were gonna kill me I didn’t hav-”

“I don’t care! You killed my sister. My sister! You killed the only person I loved Arvin. And now, I’m gonna return the favor.” In one swift motion, Bodecker turned to point the gun at you, raising his gun higher to aim at you properly. You closed your eyes before hearing the bang of a gun. You waited, standing stock still as the terror of the situation slowly got to you, but you didn’t feel pain, instead you felt a set of hands holding your face, a voice softly telling you to open your eyes. You did as you were told, seeing Arvin in front of you, eyes frantic. You looked at the ground next to him, an unfamiliar gun next to Arvin’s foot. You came to the realization that Arvin must have used it to shoot Bodecker, your suspicion being proven correct when your eyes landed on Bodecker’s now lifeless body laying in a pool of his own blood.

“A-Arvin-” Arvin softly hushed you.

“It’s okay, you’re okay now.” Arvin pulled you closer to him, cradling your head and shielding you from the body. Soon you could hear sirens in the distance, the panic slowly rising inside of you again. You could feel Arvin begin to panic too, his breathing starting to pick up.

“H-his badge.” You said, pulling away from Arvin, scared that he would be taken away from you. “We-we need to get rid of h-his badge. A-and any identification he has. It has to look like an- like an accident”

“R-right. Right, okay, uh...” Arvin began searching Bodecker’s body, quickly finding both his badge and ID and hiding them in a small hollow under one of the floor boards where you kept your savings. You and Arvin quickly came up with a cover, agreeing to keep it simple. The police arrived not long after, conducting an interview and putting you both through due process. You told them what you and Arvin had agreed to say, that the man broke into your house and tried to rob you, but thanks to Arvin’s quick thinking, Arvin was able to get to his gun and shoot the intruder. The policemen interviewing you were skeptical, wondering why neither of you called the police after killing the man. You blamed it on shock, saying that Arvin’s first instinct was to comfort you, the intruder did have a gun pointed at you, after all. The policemen eventually dropped the subject, seeing you begin to tear up as the adrenaline and shock of the day began to ware off. Your parents came to get you and Arvin, offering you both your old room at their house until they were able to get someone to fix your back door, an offer that the both of you readily accepted. That night you and Arvin held each other just a little bit tighter, neither one of you finding sleep to come easy.

“We can’t tell anyone what happened today.” Arvin said, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you.

“I know.” You replied, tightly clutching onto his shirt. “I love you, Arvin.”

“I love you, too, Darlin’”

You didn’t know what would come out of tonight. You didn't know if you were making a mistake by trusting Arvin after everything he had done. You weren’t sure if you were messed up for loving a murderer or if you were right in believing that Arvin was doing good, even if it meant doing some more than questionable things. But you knew one thing, you knew you loved Arvin and that he loved you, and that you both would always protect each other, no matter the cost.

#arvin russell #arvin russel #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel imagine #arvin russell imagine #the devil all the time #the devil all the time imagine #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland x reader

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myfriendthedictionary · 2 years

Note

i to am waiting for the new oxenf-rca (ok that was definitely one of my worst, shhh) game, and in the meantime I would love to hear about any and also all oxenfree ocs. please i would like to know all about them

SORRY FOR THE DELAY. finally getting around to answering asks!!! I hope your doing well!! thank u so much for asking about my silly little ocs cause I would love nothing more than to talk about them frankly. okay. guy who has a whole game in her head vc: I’m normal and this is a normal amount to think about things. I do have art for them but I’m on mobile rn and don’t have it saved, so ill fix it later!

anyway, for lack of a better title i refer to this as everfree. just with my name. it kinda works tho! and in my head it exists and it’s also connected to my friends oxenfree ocs which also make me lose my mind. himi doesn’t have a tumblr that im aware of, but she said i could talk about them also :] here’s an unofficial rundown of the characters. if more people are interested i can post their art and stuff later !!

suzume (she/her): the player character/protagonist. suzume tsurumaki is a girl just back from her first semester at college when she returns to her childhood home, her friends, and her long-time boyfriend, Avery. Suzume struggles to fit in to a place that once felt so comfortable and deals with trying to figure out what she wants out of life versus what everyone else has always wanted for her. Throughout the game, players can build, alter, or break off the relationship with Avery and her other friends, depending on their choices. (The divorce of it all ahskdhdks)

avery (he/they): suzume’s long time boyfriend and the boy next door who, unlike suzume, stayed in town after high school graduation. passionate but often distractible and unsure of himself, avery tends to grip on tightly to what he has in a world that seems uncertain. They care deeply about Suzume, but struggle to adjust to long-distance after so many years of being only a few houses apart.

micha (they/she): suzume and avery’s friend and self-designated “relationship counselor”, Micha is always ready to answer any question… even the ones no one actually asked them. Outspoken and proud, Micha considers themselves an expert on all things, despite not exactly having any evidence to back most of her claims up. Still, despite their eagerness, they have good intentions.

luna (she/her): micha’s twelve-year-old sister, who they’re “stuck with” babysitting on the island while their parents are both working the night shift. like many children, luna believes she’s 1. more knowledgeable than pretty much anyone ever and 2. certainly more knowledgeable than her older sibling, thank you very much! luna tends to be curious to the point of vaguely uncomfortable, and is an avid fan of warrior cats (as she will bring up constantly on the island).

raine (they/them): raine makes out the last of the group! pessimistic and sulky, raine acted as the vice-president for avery’s astronomy club in high school (in which both of them were the only two members) and has been “stuck with” the group since sophomore year. they have a tendency to make things worse, both on purpose and accidentally, by always assuming the worst case scenario. In high school, raine was the kind of person who’d prefer to shove themselves in the locker “before anyone else had the chance”, whether anyone was ever planning on it or not.

#sorry smth about suzume taking Avery out to the island to break up w him and then finding the sunken is SO FUNNY OKAY #pov the sunken watch you get divorced #ahsjdhdjdhskdhdjdjej ooouuuuuu tysm for asking I have. so many thoughts about them #the main theme of the game (in my head) deals w relationships and closure and what to do when things change #I would love to make this more official at some point and I might … I just don’t want to spam oc content on this blog ahskdhsk #but uahhhh hopefully itz not too annoying #rca #ever rambles #ever.txt #pr: everfree #oc: suzume #oc: raine #oc: avery #oc: luna #oc: micha #ask to tag!#oxenfree #oxenfree oc

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standarrow · 4 years

Text

abbacchio essay under the cut because he’s so important to me (god this is so long im sorry i have adhd i hope this is readable<3)

tl;dr being on how i think he healed and handled up until part 5 :”) + thoughts on his relationship to the team

tw!!! for all of the usual things that pertain to his backstory including: [death, alcohol abuse, police, ptsd/depression, etc]

i may be projecting<3 its fine

to start:

im not a fan of the way a lot of people handle handle abbas trauma and illness. the "entering a relationship fixes your problems<3" shit. or the romanticization of depression...i see both a lot, along with utilizing his substance issues as like a catalyst. i dont have to say why that shit isnt ok or healthy.

getting into it (because i want it to be this deep):

there is ... a lot of guilt that he shoulders around the death of his partner. someone he was friends with (and relied on him as a literal partner) died because He fucked up. that person wanted to protect him and died selflessly while he'd broken his own morals and he feels like it should have been him to pay for it.

but he wasnt. and now he suddenly has two mistakes and blood on his hands. getting fired doesnt even Begin to fix that, so he withdraws because he cant trust himself, cant trust the institution he was already disillusioned from, and imo hes angry that he didnt get punished worse for his own crimes (but cops always get off easy)

bruno finds him in the worst place of his life and gives him a chance to put schedule in his life, to protect even if its not in the way he originally thought he would. he still doesnt trust himself, i do not think he takes to working with a partner easily (what if he fucks up again. he'll get bruno/narancia/fugo killed.) and i think that reflects in why moody blues isnt meant for combat. combat = danger.

obligatory moody blues being an allegory for his trauma and ptsd surrounding the death of his partner.. constantly haunted by his own mistake and reliving that moment. heavily referencing his wish to redo, to know every detail of that prick he let bribe him that killed his partner, to have Control. because abbacchio isnt really about The Moment -- he's making sure the Moment doesnt have a chance to come to fruition. its nipping it in the bud before the weed can kill. he wants to make sure he can figure out whats going on First and protect. to figure out past events and prevent future danger.

starting to heal:

i’ve done a timeline previously: he graduates high school in 1998, six months for the police academy, 6 months before hes out again.. joins passione in december (rainy season) of 1999, and by december of 2000 (~4 months before part 5) hes like.... well. doing better in terms of his alcoholism. we see abbacchio by part 5 occasionally and seemingly comfortably enjoying a glass or two, which speaks that after some time working hes sort gained some..... confidence in his ability to keep his intake low.

working for bruno means he cant drink as often or binge as much, hes needed and that structure keeps him in check, its not easy and yes he slips but its about and overall upwards climb because any progress is good progress... he builds a rapport with the team, comes to appreciate brunos role in giving him a chance and some peace of mind, sees himself in fugo, treats narancia like a little brother. relationships with others cant Fix your problems but friendship and structure can help, they can be there when you need it.

hes starting to trust himself more. and his relationship to fugo and nara were as crucial as his one with bruno is.

in purple haze feedback we see that he's been teamed up with fugo, and he knows fugos stand ability very well (see mirror man fight)... they Get each other and abbacchio sees a lot of his anger and distrust at himself in fugo, and easily calms fugo down when he gets upset (see mirror man episode in the car)

fugo helped him trust himself and others more .. that other people arent Fragile and arent going to die on him every time they get into danger and its not His fault. he relies on fugo and vice versa. the kid is powerful but also a smart tactician and extremely capable. they Get each other and it helps abbacchio trust himself in combat situations and helps calm his paranoia about getting someone killed while working ... and nara is just sunshine. hes an annoying little brother but it helps him retain normalcy. some sense of like. not everything is doom and gloom

his depression and general self? depreciation perhaps doesnt leave him because those kinds of thoughts mould your brain a certain way.. they dont just go away without some work. but perhaps time with bruno helps him start to realise his worth, the way the team appreciates him and his ability. his self consciousness can start to fall away a little bit. i think by the time december of 2000 (a year after his recruitment by my timeline) hes like... a lot more comfortable with the schedule of his life, it helps him get out of bed, gives his brain a structure to latch onto. the responsibility of overseeing the younger ones and helping bruno gives him the sort of hope for this original goal of wanting to protect

@ bruno (in a more romantic sense perhaps + why i think he distrusts giorno so much)

his relationship to bruno isnt fucking “godlike savior<3″ because thats.... needless to say Very unhealthy.

their relationship doesnt reach a point by where i think Either would even want to enter a relationship until about a year in (~4 months before part 5 begins)... theres a certain uncertainty i think bruno has with wanting to help abbacchio, he respects and cares about the other man and canonically sees him as his senior.. and i think theres a certain wall there that bruno isnt sure he wants to try to knock down, meanwhile abbacchio isnt sure when he built those walls but theyre safe (and what happens if you try to reach out?)

i think they sort of fall into it and its not... planned. its a little impulsive but it feels natural and they help each other because bruno is this comfort to abba, is the reason he has this structure and has made this progress himself and hes not....crediting it all to bruno obviously but bruno did play a Large Role. and bruno is all about little white lies, appearances. Yes hes fine. Dont worry, he has things under control.

and i think to an extent abbacchio knows of brunos softer spots (as does fugo, bc of the reason he and fugo team up as described in phf is to protect him) but abba doesnt realise to the extent that bruno is .... hiding his real fears. brunos a lot about compartmentalization (hi zippers) and being let into brunos internal... thoughts beyond the occasional worries he mightve shared is a big step for them. bruno buries a lot of his internal problems and worries. he has to. hes got to keep moving, keep working; people rely on him... but abbacchio is the person he doesnt feel like he needs to protect because theyre equals and maybe he can let someone in to shoulder his worries and vice versa. theyre partners.

which is why i think abbacchio initially distrusts giorno so much... its not tht he doesnt trust bruno, but bruno doesnt Tell him about this. he realizes he might not know all brunos fears (specifically @ his distate and hate towards the mafia i made the point about in the bruno isnt evil post where its like.. he Couldntve shared that information, otherwise he would endanger abbacchio)

and it scares him. it freaks him the fuck out because he doesnt understand who this kid is or why bruno trusts him so much but he trusts bruno so he goes with it, even if he doesnt Understand.

anyways thts my TEDtalk ty i love you for reading this if you got here<3

#EDIT: ok 2 rb if you want!!!#leone abbacchio #im not tagging it otherwise i just want this findable in my own tagging system LOL #all of this is from discord from dming adrian and simon so hi guys if youre reading the tags #i deal with a lot of the issues abbacchio does but i understand that that doesnt mean i didnt use language that might be incorrect #i understand and apologize !! feel free to send an ask but otherwise pls im not trying to start meta discourse over an anime character #i just wanted to get my thoughts out because im tired of seeing representations of him that i just. feel are SO so ugly #esp as someone whos struggled with the issues #caleb.txt #caleb meta hour

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

when your love reaches me (iii)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 7.5k

warnings: angst, language, yearning for a man in his 70s (c’est la vie, i guess), over-describing a moment i’m very passionate about (sorry, not sorry! ten points to the person who can tell me what moment it is LOL)

a/n: wow—this gif? yeah, match made in heaven. thank you all so much for indulging me in this mini-series. i really am very proud of this silly little thing & i’m sad that it’s over because i enjoyed writing it so much. thank you to @im-an-adult-ish & @deacyblues for helping me work out the rough spots in this one. would love to hear everyone’s thoughts because i’m very ~emotional~ about this mini-series!! xoxo.

part i, part ii

in this final chapter: you must adjust because it’s not in your cards to be with him, is it?

you run your hands down your face, feel the ring on your finger catch along the end of your nose, and sigh. two months—two months without him. two months to adjust to world you once knew but happily left behind. two months to gather the pieces of the life which cruelly slipped through your fingers like water.

each day is the same. you rise early and take your coffee on the postage stamp terrace outside your flat. you watch the sun climb higher in the sky with each passing moment and let the warmth of your drink soothe the ache in your soul. you wash your breakfast dishes, mumble a good morning to rachel when she exits her bedroom to make her way to the shower, and dress for the day. you walk to campus if you have a class or take the underground to the museum if you have a shift. you come home, eat dinner, go to bed. repeat.

if rachel notices a change in you, she doesn’t say anything. in her mind, no time has passed between the morning where she asked you to come to the pub and the same evening you tumbled into the flat, drenched and sobbing.

but you—you’ve lost a year of your life. there’s no getting it back, and the only thing that proves it really truly happened is the ring on your middle finger, the necklace hanging by your heart, and the undeveloped rolls of film in your bedside table.

there are few words to describe the unbearable pain in your chest. anything and everything reminds you of brian: the whisper of the breeze in the autumn-heavy trees; the feeling of your warmest cardigan around your shoulders; the sound of someone laughing in the museum.

but there’s more:

the scent of cigarette smoke reminds you of roger. the sight of two friends ribbing one another in a grocery store reminds you of crystal. a colorful jacket makes you think of freddie, a whispered snide remark takes you back to john, and two girls giggling reminds you of giddy moments with anna.

around every corner you turn there’s a memory you cannot avoid, and it hurts—desperately, keenly, deeply.

so you push it all away and soldier on, quiet and downtrodden. it’s easier that way. maybe, if you forget, you can move on and make it through life without him.

six months after you’ve left brian behind, you’re approached by your boss at the museum with an opportunity you’d only ever dreamed of: the chance to create and prepare your own exhibit.

monica is firm when she offers you the south wing to reshape as your own. “blow this out of the water, [y/n], and there will be a job as assistant curator waiting for you after graduation. i want something fresh and exciting. think you can manage?”

you agree without hesitation.

for the first time in a long time, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this is your chance to put everything you’ve learned to good use, to put something tangible in your portfolio, to make a name for yourself.

you’re buzzing with excitement and have to practically hold rachel hostage as you spout your myriad of thoughts and ideas. she’s your sounding board, even if she doesn’t want to be, but she’s honest where it counts most, and you’re grateful for that.

she glances over the kitchen table, laden with open magazines, cutout photos, and history books. her brow puckers. “this is... really boring, [y/n],” she says with a cringe, looking up with her blue eyes and freckled face.

your shoulder droop. “that’s it? that’s all you have to say?”

she shrugs and reaches for a photo, inspecting it with a critical gaze. “i mean, ancient textiles might be interesting to you and maybe five other people, but it isn’t exactly blowing me out of the water.”

dropping to the seat across the table, you huff. “well, we’re a photography museum, rachel. it’s not like i can whip up a few outfits and put them on mannequins.”

“excuse me, but fashion design is just as artistic as curating a museum—if not more so.” she sighs and puts the photo of a thirteenth century chinese table linen on the table. “there must be something else you’re interested in? something that other people will like just as much?”

you don’t mean to, but you let your eyes trail to the camera sitting on on the tv stand. you’d left it there after your return, uncertain where to put it. sometimes you catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye and then you remember the tubes of film in your bedroom, undeveloped and unseen.

rachel follows your gaze. “you know, you never told me where you got that.”

“it was a gift.”

“oh really? from who?”

you’re slow to answer. the truth sits on the tip of your tongue—the man i love, the man i was going to marry—but you bite it back. “my great-aunt. she left it to me... in her will.”

you aren’t sure what compels you to retrieve the six rolls of film from your bedroom, but you do. the tubes feel heavy in your palm and clang against the table as you put them down. rachel looks at them then back at you, waiting.

“she gave me these, too.”

“i didn’t know you had a great-aunt.”

“we weren’t close.”

“obviously you were close enough to get these things.” rachel lifts one of the tubes, turning it over in her palm. “wonder what the pictures are.”

“i’m not sure,” you lie. “maybe they could make an exhibit.”

“i think you’d have to develop them first then make that decision.” she rises from the table and shrugs on her coat. “i’ve got a date, so don’t wait up. and try not to let this consume you too much? you’ve been down and out lately. i think the work will do you good, but don’t let it take over, yeah?”

you nod and wish her well on her date. she leaves the flat in a flourish, leaves you to the tubes of film and the growing curiosity in your stomach.

you really should get them developed. if not for an exhibit, then for yourself. an entire year of your life is in those tubes, and you deserve to see the photos you’d taken to preserve that time.

it’s been six months. you’ve purposefully distanced yourself from anything and everything related to queen, be it a simple news story, a song on the radio, or any of roger or brian’s social media posts. it hurts to see them, to know that they’re so close yet so far away, that they have no idea what became of you all those years ago in japan.

still, it’s been six months. developing the film might be your first step toward a sense of closure. you don’t want to stay in your rut forever. though you’re comfortable with the idea that brian might be your great love and you’ll never find another, you know you can’t stay as you are, sullen and despondent. it’s like a break-up, really. you’re sad, heartbroken over the loss, but you know it’s time to step out of the hurt and into something different.

before you can stop yourself, you grab the rolls of film, your purse, and your jacket, and you head for the nearest photo shop.

a few hours later, you return with a heavy packet of freshly-printed photographs and a usb drive full of digital scans. there’s over two hundred photos to sort through, and you’ve yet to see one.

flipping on the light to your living room, you sit down beside the coffee table, a glass of wine at your side, the table cleared of any lingering books or empty teacups. before you open the packet of photos, you open your laptop and type your search into the search bar. if you’re going to quell your curiosity tonight, you might as well quell all of it, and you’re dying to know what happened after you left.

a simple internet search confirms what you already know: your presence within the group on the jazz tour did not alter any significant events. freddie still passed away, john still retired. a further search yields at least one previously nonexistent queen song written by brian may: “into thin air.” it was released in the album following jazz. you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, not yet. a deeper search unearths an interview brian gave a year or so after you left. the interview was published in a magazine editorial covering of each of queen’s band members and their lives when not on tour or recording. after freddie’s bit, there’s a photograph of brian at the top of a new page. he’s smiling, but he looks weary and he mentions you only once: “i was engaged for awhile, but that ended in an unfortunate circumstance, so to answer your question: no, i’m not looking for love. not right now, anyway.”

you close the laptop and lean back against the sofa. the ring on your finger feels heavy. your eyes fill with unshed tears, and you decide the photos can wait to be seen until tomorrow.

the packet of photos ends up sitting on the coffee table for two weeks before you invite your co-worker, shamik, over for wine and cheese and museum gossip. shamik is kind, a first-generation immigrant from india with personality to spare and an exuberance for all things american. he claims it’s his greatest curse that his parents brought him to britain as a baby instead of america, and it’s something he can never forgive them for. you’ve only interacted with shamik at work, but when you mention your exhibit project, he’s eager to offer his help. with no new ideas outside ancient textiles, you’re willing to take whatever advice or ideas he has.

sitting beside him on the couch, you spread your collection of papers and pictures on the table to explain your vision. he listens dutifully, nodding along, his eyes scanning the 3-d projection you’ve made of what the exhibit might look like once completed. when you’ve finished your spiel, he sets his wine glass down and nods to the packet of unopened photographs on the edge of the table.

“what’s that?”

you frown, shaking your head at the sudden turn in conversation. “sorry?”

he reaches for the manilla envelope. “oh, it’s hefty! what’s in here?”

you sigh and take the packet from his hands. it feels solid in your lap, like a brick. “photos from my great-aunt.”

he points to the sealed flap. “it’s unopened.”

“i haven’t gotten the chance to look through it yet.” setting the packet to the side, you raise your eyebrows. “well, what do you think? about the exhibit?”

“honestly? it’s dull. monica won’t be impressed.”

you throw yourself back against the couch with a groan. “what the hell,” you whisper. “i’ve got no ideas then.”

you know ancient textile photography would not be the most enticing exhibit, but it’s been an interest of yours for some time and would be easy enough to complete. shamik and rachel’s reactions do not bode well, you have to admit. having a job as an assistant curator right out of the gate would be beyond marvelous, and you desperately don’t want to screw it up with a boring first exhibit.

“let’s have a look at these pictures from your aunt!” before you can stop him, shamik reaches across your lap for the photo packet and rips open the top. “maybe that will spark some ideas?”

you lean forward, blush already rising to your cheeks as he pulls out the first picture. “oh no, shamik, i don’t know if—”

“holy shit!”

you shut your eyes, wincing.

“that’s fucking freddie mercury!” shamik grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your flesh. “did you know about this, [y/n]? that’s your aunt with freddie mercury!”

forcing your eyes open, you look at the photo trembling between his fingers. it’s a picture of you sitting beside freddie on the tour bus. (you think john took the photo in an effort to get you to stop taking photos of him when he was asleep while roger and crystal placed as many items on his head as they could before he fully awoke.) your head is against freddie’s shoulder, your eyes droopy with sleep. a lump rises in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head in feigned disbelief as shamik continues to shuffle through the photos.

“oh my god, your aunt was a groupie,” he cries, passing you another photo.

“i guess—” you clear your throat. “i guess she was.”

“you know”—shamik sets the pile of photos down and spreads them across the table, obscuring your vision of an ancient textiles display—“this would make a great exhibit.”

“shamik—” your voice is a warning, a sudden surge of anger rising in your chest, but he continues.

“no, really, [y/n]! there are so many photos here that tell such a cutesy little story. i mean, come on? freddie and this cat?” he lifts the photo in question. “it’s stuff people have never seen before from a totally different side of queen. it’s a fucking goldmine!”

“absolutely not,” you say. “i will not put my aunt’s personal affairs on display.”

“think of monica, [y/n]! think of the job!”

“no, shamik!” you stand from the table and drop your plates in the kitchen sink with a resolute clatter. “i barely knew my aunt, but i know enough to gather that her time with queen was private. she didn’t say anything about it until she died. that’s got to mean something, and i don’t want to air it all out for everyone to see and speculate and gossip about just for my own personal gain.”

you’re shouting, fists clenched at your sides, by the time you finish. shamik just stares at you, his face blank and unreadable. he glances down at a photo.

“she looks a lot like you,” he says, his voice even.

you huff and take the wine glasses from the table. “we’ve got strong family genes. now, please, i’d appreciate it if you just drop the whole queen thing. we can find some other idea.”

you gather the photos, shove them back in the folder, and toss the envelope in the nearest drawer you can find. the drawer slams shut, and you leave the photos there to gather dust.

you mull over shamik’s idea of an exhibit based on your photos for a month before you finally relent. monica’s riding your ass daily with questions about your progress. you need to get something down on paper for her to give to the contractors, so you begrudgingly type out a response to her most recent email:

monica,

i’ve landed on an exhibit topic at last. took me long enough, right?

i’ve recently come into possession of a series of photographs taken by my late great-aunt. turns out she was a groupie with the band queen in the ‘70s. my exhibit will be centered around those photos. i’m thinking the exhibit will be titled “queen: unfiltered.” do with that what you will. :)

monica, much to your dismay, loves the idea and sends you right to work on gathering and laying out your vision while she begins the necessary promotion.

it hurts at first—looking at all the photos you took, remembering the way you felt so unearthly happy during that year. you cry each time you sit down to sort out the best of the pictures. the ones which capture a moment of levity amongst the band or are particularly well-shot go in a pile on the left. the ones which didn’t develop well or are too intimate for you to ever consider putting on display go in a pile on the right. your bedroom floor is a mess of drafted captions written on slips of printer paper, photographs with notes scrawled along the back, and used tissues. more than anything, you wish you could step into the world behind those photographs. you want to be back there—with him, with them—until you grow old and gray. knowing you can’t, that you won’t ever see him again, tears you apart inside.

but it helps. the exhibit forces you to acknowledge the time you spent with brian, with queen. instead of leaving the photos in a drawer, they confront you everyday as you sit down to work, and everyday it gets a little bit easier to face your past. as the tears subside, you find yourself laughing whenever you find a new photo of roger’s antics. your heart doesn’t clench as much when you run across another photo of you and brian. you can smile now when you look at his face. he really was so handsome...

you go so far as to frame your favorite photograph of your time together and place it on your dresser. he’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head. you’re laughing, your hands folded on his arms, legs crossed as you tilt to the side. he’s making a face, his tongue stuck out at the camera, and every time you pass by the picture, you can’t help but chuckle.

you love him still. you’ll love him always.

with three weeks before the opening of the exhibit, the stress is starting to get the better of you. you’ve bitten your nails down to the quick, there’s heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, and you can’t remember the last time you consumed something other than coffee. despite the stress, you feel lighter. working through the photos, laying them out in order, writing the captions, pouring over the faces of the ones you love so dearly—it’s all helped ease the burden in your heart. for the first time in a long time, you slip out of bed in the mornings with a newfound sense of energy and purpose.

life will go on. just as you did when you fell into the past, you will find a new future.

arms laden with exhibit proposals and mock-ups, you brush into your local coffee shop—pretty bird—intent on getting some real work done on choosing the final photographs before you send them off to be printed. you order your usual and take a seat by the front. the air which wafts through the open window at your side is warm with spring and rebirth, and you breathe deep, cracking open the lid of your laptop. you manage to pick a total of twelve of the seventy-six needed photographs before you’re interrupted.

“whatcha workin’ on?” matthew, barista extraordinaire and casual acquaintance, sits down on the bench across from you. he has his own cup of cold brew poised between his lips, and the piercing in his eyebrow wiggles as he moves his brow up and down.

“an exhibit for the museum,” you say, pausing to roll your tight shoulders. “it’s my first.”

“do tell!”

you explain, briefly, how to came to acquire your dead aunt’s photographs and the general theme of the showcase. he nods in approval then snaps as if he’s remembered something.

“hold on. stay right there. i’ll be right back.” he puts his coffee down, scoots off of the bench, and darts to the back of the coffee shop. you wait and listen to the sound of the birds twittering outside before he returns with a framed picture in hand. “i just learned about this,” he says, taking his seat again. “this building used to be a disco back in the 70s.” he hands you the frame and points to a collection of people in the middle of a disco bar. “that’s queen. they came here once and somebody had the smarts to take a picture.”

your hands shake around the photograph, eyes darting from one corner of the picture to another.

matthew keeps talking. “the place was called climax. can you believe that? the 70s were fuckin’ wild, mate.”

you nod, lips parted, and skim your fingers over the incredibly tall and recognizable form of brian in the center of the photo. you can see your shoulder, jammed between freddie and crystal, but the rest of your body is obscured. you lift your eyes from the frame and glance around the coffee shop, at the exposed metal beams and vaulted ceilings, at the disco ball still hanging in the center of the room.

makes sense now. why the building had felt so eerily familiar back then.

handing matthew the picture frame, you sit back in your chair. “wonder if my aunt ever came,” you say.

“maybe? sounds like she was in pretty tight. you know who you could ask?” you shake your head, uncertain of matthew’s question. “chris taylor. he was a roadie back then. he’s a regular here. comes in at least twice at week.”

you can’t stop the hand that flies to your mouth in surprise. you try to smother your gasp with a cough, but matthew still stares at you like you’ve sprouted another head.

“you okay?” he asks warily.

nodding, you take a sip of your drink. “yeah, yeah, sorry! wrong pipe.”

“so, do you want to meet him and ask about your aunt?”

everything in you screams to say no. it’s too dangerous. you will surely break the moment you see him. crystal became your lifeline apart from brian during that year. he was your brother, your partner in crime, the one who kept you grounded when things got too wild. just knowing that he’s frequented the same coffee shop as you for the last six months brings tears to your eyes. you could have run into him. hell, you might’ve already. still, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to make it through a proper meeting without spilling your guts and apologizing for the way you left.

“[y/n]?” matthew pulls you from your thoughts. “what do you think?”

you hesitate before shrugging. you speak before you can stop yourself, before the rational and reasonable part of you can take over. god, you need this. if it’s your only opportunity for true closure, you’ll take it. “if he’s up to it then... sure.”

matthew grins. “come in tomorrow. i’ll introduce you!”

that night you toss and turn. you’re plagued with anxiety. will crystal recognize you? if he does, what will he say? will he be angry? what if he tells brian and then—

your bedside alarm goes off just as you fall asleep. it’s a struggle to drag yourself out of bed, but you must. there’s closure somewhere around the corner, and if you just move your ass, you’ll find it. you have one class this morning then your meeting with crystal. you’re jittery by the time you leave class, but you chalk that up to drinking two cups of coffee before leaving your flat and one in class.

it’s drizzling as you make your way to the coffee shop. you hasten your steps, head bent against the rain and fingers curled around the strap of your bag. when you enter the shop, it’s nearly empty aside from a few lonesome students studying in far off corners. you can hear the faint thrill of music over the loudspeakers, but the blood that’s rushing to your ears blocks out most of the melody.

crystal’s already here, leaning against the counter, in conversation with matthew.

you stop in your tracks. he’s bald now, slightly pudgier with age, but he looks every bit as devilish as you remember.

you swallow past the fear in your throat and the anxiety in your veins and step forward. you voice wobbles when you speak. “matthew?” you direct your entrance to your friend because if you come right out and say crystal’s name, you will surely fall over in a puddle of emotion.

“there you are!” matthew jumps over the counter in one easy leap and lands to the floor beside you. he drapes his arm around your shoulders and motions to crystal. “[y/n], i’d like you to meet chris taylor. chris, this is [y/n], the girl i was telling you about.”

crystal’s staring at you through his blue-tinted glasses like he’s seen a ghost. his jaw has gone slack, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a sentence.

you shove your hand into the space between you. “nice to meet you, mr. taylor.”

looking between matthew and yourself, he gathers himself, clearing his throat, and shakes your hand. “you too.”

“should we sit?” you motion to the same table you occupied the day before. “i can buy you a coffee for your troubles.”

he shakes his head and lifts his cup. “already got mine.”

“all right, well...” you glance at matthew.

“do you want your regular?” he asks.

“yes, please.”

“comin’ right up.”

crystal follows you to the table and sits down, his movements slow. for a moment, you sit in silence and allow his eyes to roam your face. you can’t tell if he knows it’s you or if he thinks it’s just a coincidence. you want to reach out and take the hand he rubs across the bridge of his nose, but you fold your fingers in your lap.

“thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” you finally say.

“you aunt,” he starts.

“yes, my aunt.” you pull a photograph out of your bag. it’s one of the few you took with crystal all those years ago. he’s got you in a headlock, his opposite fist grinding into the top of your skull. you slide the picture across the table. “you knew her?”

crystal lifts the photo, inspects it, before putting it down. he sighs, shaking his head. “i loved that woman. broke my heart when she left.” his gaze lifts from the table. “you look like her, have her name too.”

you look away, out the window at the side. there’s bird fluttering in a puddle on the sidewalk, and you watch it for a moment before turning back to him. “i think my mother loved her a great deal. i didn’t get the chance to know her, though. we only just found these pictures recently.”

his eyes narrow. “i mean, you really look like her.”

you force a smile. “thank you. that’s kind of you.” shifting, you tap your finger on the table. “i know her leaving wasn’t exactly...” you struggle to find the proper word, but he jumps to assist.

“natural?”

“well, i was going to say easy, but—”

“she fuckin’ disappeared! excuse my language.” huffing, he drops back against his chair. “one minute she was there, the next minute she was gone. i swear, i’ve never seen anyone skip town that fast.”

“she didn’t say anything about leaving?”

“why would she? she was engaged! she had no reason to leave that i know of.”

“was she happy?”

“hell yes. her and brian—i’ve never seen two people more fit for one another. brian just about lost his mind trying to find her, but it was like she never existed. strangest thing.” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, looking askance, before his eyes whiz back to yours. “oh my fucking god.”

you look up, fear sparking in your belly. “what?”

“[y/n]?”

you blink. your head feels dizzy with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s about to jump across the table and throttle you or hug you so tight your insides might squeeze out of your body.

“fuck,” he breathes. “it is you.”

“i don’t know know what you’re—”

“don’t play dumb with me!” he leans across the table and lowers his voice. “i was the one who got you that phony passport, remember? i always wondered why i couldn’t find your credentials. had to lie my way through it until i got the damn thing. you’re lucky everything was so lax in the 70s.” he shakes his head. “how’d you do it?”

there’s part of you that wants to deny, deny, deny.

but it’s crystal. you can’t lie to him any more than you already have.

“i had no choice in the matter,” you say plainly. “one minute i was here, the next minute i was there, and the next minute i was here again.”

his jaw works back and forth as he processes the information. “does brian know?”

“no—and i’d like to keep it that way.”

“i thought we might lose him after you left.”

you twist the ring on your finger. “if i’d had the choice, i would have stayed. i hope you know that.”

crystal nods. “yeah, i do.” he holds your gaze then motions to your bag. “so, this exhibit matthew told me about. you’re publishing all those photos you took?”

“yes. there are some pictures i’ve saved for myself, but my boss, monica, she got permission from the record label to go ahead with the others. it opens in three weeks.”

“i’ll be there if i can. i’d like to see those pictures.”

you smile, your first earnest smile of the day. “you feature many times.”

he ducks his head like an embarrassed schoolboy. “we were thick as thieves, weren’t we?”

“you and roger were thicker, but i’d like to think i had a part to play some of the time.”

he lifts his head and heaves a heavy sigh. “you know, when i said i loved you, i meant it. not in the way brian did. you were like a kid sister to me. i cared for you a great deal.”

before you can stop yourself, you slip your hand across the table to grasp his worn fingers. his shoulders shake on another sigh, and he lifts his opposite hand to wipe at his eyes beneath his glasses.

“oh, crystal. i’m so sorry,” you whisper. it hurts to see him cry, to know that you’re the cause behind his pain.

he waves your apology away, sniffing hard. “i’m just glad to know you’re okay. we thought you might’ve gotten picked up or—” he shakes his head and pats your hand over his, meeting your eyes. “you’re okay, though. that’s what matters.”

“will you really come to my exhibit?”

“anything for you, kid.” he thumbs the underside of your chin with a lopsided grin. “even after all this time, i’m putty in your hands.”

you grin and hand him a business card, which he tucks in the folds of his wallet. rising from his seat, he opens his arms and you practically trip into his hug. he holds you tight for the briefest of moments before pulling back. he pats your cheek.

“i’ll see you in three weeks, yeah? if i stay any longer i’ll end up a sobbin’ mess on the floor.”

you nod. “yeah. and, crystal?” he turns at the door. “don’t tell brian. please.”

he leaves without another word.

the day of the exhibit opening you are equal parts thrilled and a nervous wreck. everyone’s here—your family, rachel, shamik, even matthew. you haven’t seen crystal amidst the crowd mingling in the lobby, but you trust him to show. he’s always been reliable, and you doubt he’ll fail you now.

monica squeezes your shoulder as she passes you by in the staff hallway. “it looks wonderful, [y/n]. consider yourself hired,” she says and hands you a keycard. “i’m going to give you a piece of advice i got when i completed my first exhibit: go have a moment by yourself. look at your work, be proud of it. you deserve it.”

with trembling fingers and a racing heart, you make your way down the corridor to the south exhibit hall. due to a celebratory lunch with rachel the day before, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the room in its final state. in retrospect, you’re thankful for the chance to see it for the first time alone. at least this way, if you cry, no one will have to know.

the door beeps as it unlocks, and you slip inside the room. you descend the handful of stairs which lead into the showroom floor and suck in a deep breath.

before entering the exhibit, there’s a wall to the side with a simple explanation written in a white font:

queen: unfiltered — this exhibit preserves and presents never-before-seen images of the popular band, queen, through the eyes of an unnamed woman who spent a year traveling the world on queen’s jazz album tour. her images are intimate yet distinctive and offer a personal glimpse into the lives of one of britain’s most well-known bands.

at the far end of the room hang four banners spanning floor to ceiling. the banners wave gently in the air blowing throughout the room, illuminated from lights on the ceiling and floor. each banner hosts an oversized photo of one of the band’s members in an image that best captures their personality. it took you hours to find the right photo for each man, but you stand by your choice for each one.

there’s john on the far left, head bent as he strums the bass across his knee. his lips are pursed in thought, a line of concentration on his brow.

there’s freddie next to him. he stands in a spanish alley way, cradling a stray cat in his arms. he looks serenely on at the camera, a rare moment of simplicity.

there’s brian sat in an overstuffed armchair, his gangly legs crossed, a book open on his lap. he has the corner of his thumb in his mouth, and if you squint you can see the edge of his tongue.

there’s roger on the far right. he’s smiling at the camera, his eyes bright with mischief and joy. there’s a party hat snug on the crown of his head, pulling the skin of his forehead taut.

on opposite sides of the room, two parallel rows of twelve photos hang in neat order. you decided to have every photograph in the exhibit printed in black-and-white and, in all, you painstakingly picked the forty-eight photos featured in their simple white frames. you walk along the wall, hands clasped at your waist, eyes running over the memories you hold so dear.

the afternoon crystal taught you ride a bike in barcelona: you’re sat on the handlebars after a hard fall, mouth open in a squeal of delight as crystal whips toward the camera.

roger and john tossing an apple back and forth in an ottawa grocery store: john’s smile is broad, the apple caught on film midair.

brian sitting on the floor of your hotel suite: there’s a tray of sushi at his feet, and he’s smiling at you, his hair wet from a shower.

freddie playing the piano in the airport in yugoslavia: he’d been so excited to see one, his shoes had slipped on the slick floor as he ran to it. he’d played dramatically, conducting those around him in a horrible rendition of “god save the queen.”

your eyes sting with tears as you glance about the room. you’re proud of your work. it looks good, professional and elegant, but more than that, you’re proud of yourself for the work you’ve done in mending your broken heart. though you will never live the life you’d once dreamed of, you will always have the memories—and that’s got to count for something.

when the double-doors open and monica ushers the first of the patrons in, you slip into the closest bathroom to wipe at the makeup smudged under your eyes. you’re happy, truly so, and you want to celebrate—celebrate both of your lives as they finally come together.

the room is crowded when you reenter, conversation and gentle laughter mingling in the air. you accept a tight hug from rachel when you see her and the congratulations of your parents. you can’t stop smiling, and you’re sure your face will hurt come morning, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

your parents float away, hand in hand, and you find yourself alone in the center of the room, watching in awe as people you’ve never met look at your photos, at your memories, and nod in appreciation. your chest swells with an emotion you can’t place.

“i think this calls for a congratulations. you’ve outdone yourself, dove.”

you whirl on your heel, lip caught between your teeth in a poorly-concealed smile. “you came.”

crystal grins. the tie of his suit is rumbled and askew, and you reach out to straighten it. old habits die hard. “i said i would.”

“what do you think?”

“i think it’s fantastic. the lads would be proud.”

“maybe.” you shrug. “guess we’ll never know.”

“are you really so intent on staying hidden forever?”

you nod. “yes. it took everything in me to even talk to you. i don’t want to ruin their lives again by popping back up, especially because i’m not exactly old, am i?”

crystal laughs, shaking his head. “you must think you’re hot stuff if a simple hello could ruin a life.” his laughter fades into a simple smile. “now, i know you’re going to hate me and i’m willing to take that, but i did tell a certain someone about the exhibit.”

you can feel the blood drain from your face. “crystal, you didn’t.”

he winces. “i might’ve.”

you slap his arm and curl your fingers into his bicep. “you bastard!”

he holds up his hands in defense, decent enough to plaster a look of contrition on his face. “look, i didn’t tell him the context or what tipped me off. i just told him there was a new exhibit about queen and he was eager to come see. that’s all!”

you swallow hard, uncertain how to respond. “i—” your head twists back and forth in utter confusion. “i don’t know what to do.”

crystal’s face softens, and he nudges your shoulder. “go talk to him. he deserves that much, doesn’t he?”

you can’t argue with that.

giving crystal’s arm a grateful squeeze, your legs shake beneath you as you turn and see him—brian—across the room.

you don’t know how you didn’t see him before. even now, forty years later, he’s still unmistakeable: still tall, still gangly, but his hair has gone white and his strides are slower. the overwhelming urge to tear across the room and curl yourself around his back nearly overpowers you, but you shove it down and manage to cross the floor in slow, even steps. you keep your eyes glued to his back, your hands twitching at your sides. when you reach him and catch a faint whiff of his cologne, the same he wore all those years ago, you have to push back the tears that rise unbidden to your eyes.

you tap his shoulder. “dr. may?”

he circles around, as does his wife anita, her arm snug in his elbow.

brian blinks hard, his brow furrowed in confusion. for a moment, you let him stare at you as you stare right back. his eyes are the same. you’d thought they’d be different, but they aren’t. the realization stuns you silent.

anita glances between you both before smiling sweetly. “good evening, sweetheart,” she says, and her voice is so kind you can’t even summon the slightest bit of jealousy. “i’m afraid i didn’t catch your name.”

“oh, i’m sorry!” you laugh and find that smiling at anita isn’t hard. “my name’s [y/n] [y/l/n]. i created the exhibit. i thought i might come and introduce myself.”

“oh, how lovely!” anita claps her hands together. “what you’ve done is so beautiful, [y/n]. it’s nearly brought a tear to my eye.”

“that’s very kind of you, ma’am.”

“brian likes it too. don’t you, brian?”

he still can’t seem to formulate any sort of response. he’s frozen in place, and your heart lurches for him. to see the woman he’d once asked to marry him, the one so cruelly ripped away, while standing next to his wife... precisely why you never wanted to meddle in his current affairs.

finally, he seems to collect himself. he sucks in a deep breath and nods in agreement. “yes, i do. very much.”

“that means a lot,” you say, easing your smile back into place. “thank you.”

“i’ll leave you two to talk to for a moment. i see crystal hovering in the corner over there, and i’m sure you both have many questions for one another.” anita presses her hand on your arm as she passes. “lovely job, dear.”

she leaves, and you’re left alone with the greatest love of your life.

you wait for him to speak.

“you’re... alive?” it’s a question, not a statement.

“yes.”

“you’re the same age?”

“yes.”

“how did—” he shakes his head. “i don’t understand.”

“neither do i.”

his chin quivers slightly, and he looks away. “i thought you’d been taken or decided to—”

you dare to touch his arm. a spark jolts through your fingers at the slightest touch, but you hold firm. “nothing happened,” you explain. “other than nature righting her mistake.”

“i think—i think i need to sit down.”

“yes, of course. my office is down the hall. it’s quiet there.”

he nods and leans against your arm as you lead him down the hall. in the silence of your dimly lit office, he collapses to the loveseat beneath the window and drops his face to his hands. you hesitate in the doorway until he looks up. tears shimmer in his eyes, and you swallow hard, your smile wavering around the edges.

he stands then, crosses the floor, and cradles your face in his hands. “my god,” he breathes. “it really is you.”

with a laugh, you hold his wrists. “in the flesh.”

“how long’s it been?” his thumb works over your cheekbone and, though you know he should stop, you can’t bring yourself to step away from his touch.

“about seven months.”

he snorts. “try forty years.”

“you seem like you did well for yourself, though.”

he shrugs. “i suppose.”

“you’re happy?”

there’s a heavy pause before he says, “yes.”

“that’s all i want to hear.”

slipping out of his grasp, you put a modicum of space between you both. the air is thick with emotion, and your heart beats wildly against your chest. the love you thought you’d put to bed flares at the mere sight of him, even after all this time.

you drift your finger through the sand of your tabletop zen garden. “i told crystal not to tell you about me,” you admit.

“he didn’t—not in so many words.”

“i know. i’m glad he said something, though.” you pause, meet his gaze. “it’s so good to see you, bri.”

quiet falls over the room as he stares at you. you don’t squirm. you’re comfortable under his gaze, always have been.

“i hope you know i never stop looking,” he says. “even after anita, i kept trying to find you. just to know.”

“and i hope you know that i would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant i got to be with you even for a time.”

your phone vibrates on the desk, skidding across your oversized calendar. you reach for the phone and flip it over before slipping it in the purse hung over your desk chair.

“i’ve got to go,” you admit, crossing to his side. “i’ve actually got a date.”

to your surprise, his eyes crinkle with amusement. “i’m happy to hear it.” he lifts a hand and smooths back the hair from the side of your face. he looks at you with all the love he did forty years ago, and you wish you could take a picture to remember forever.

but then you remember: you have dozens of photos at home, and it doesn’t seem too hard to let him go now. not after the work you’ve put into mending your heart. you can face this, face saying goodbye for good. you have to, for his sake and your own.

rising to your tiptoes, you place a hand on his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth—one last touch, for you both. you wind your arm around his neck and whisper in his ear, “i love you, brian may. i always will.”

he squeezes you hard against his body, sucking in a ragged breath. “i love you too, [y/n].”

dropping back to your heels, you huff a breath and smile wide. “well, i’d better go.”

“yes, you’d better. don’t keep the lad waiting.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, your hand lingering on his. “okay, well... goodbye, brian.”

he smiles, and it’s the loveliest sight you’ve ever seen. he brushes you cheek with the back of his hand, whispering, “see you later, love.”

dipping out the back of the museum, you walk down the street, purse slung over your shoulders. you think you’ll be able to sleep well for the first time in a long time tonight.

you hope he can, too.

~*~*~*

taglist: @bhmay @grigorlee @teenagepeterpan @just-my-sickly-pride @perriwiinkle @ubernoxa @anunknownnebula @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @captvinswaan @ineloqueent

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may fic #brian may x you #queen #queen fic #queen x reader #j writes

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oofchris · 3 years

Photo

⌠ MADISON BAILEY, 19, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CHRISTINA ' CHRIS ' ANDERSON! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS & NAVIGATION + PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( speckles of dried paint on fingers, cruising round on a longboard, joints tucked behind ears wrapped in colourful papers ). when it’s the ( sagittarius )’s birthday on 12/27/2001, they always request their PHO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ mochi, 24, she/her, gmt ⍀

@gallagherintro

hi uwu, here is a new baby who is not very baby but still a lil baby

. . . it got quite long so tldr; she’s a stubborn art hoe from california who’s dad died so she’s come to gallagher bc her mom is a professor in the p+e major <3

parallels

wyldstyle — the lego movie: 85%

mulan — mulan: 84%

nymphadora tonks — harry potter: 83%

princess fiona — shrek: 83%

robin buckley — stranger things: 82%

here is a full list

HISTORY

potential triggers — car accident, parental death, divorce

so she’s grown up on on the west coast p much ??? her whole life. her mom worked as a bodyguard for sum famous peeps, dad was doctor but occasionally also a medic in the field — they didn’t always see eye to eye and divorced when chris was around nine. it was mostly to do with chris’ future like whether she’d go to spy prep school and follow in their footsteps and her dad didn’t want that for her so they disagreed, and she lived with him instead, living a more or less normal life. her mom then moved away when the opportunity to become a professor at gallagher presented itself, so they’ve really not been close at all since then

lived fairly comfortably, either way her dad had money and her mom sent support too. her father definitely earns less from no longer being in the spy world but he vowed to leave that behind when he divorced his wife and other than a few people from his past popping up unannounced, he kept that vow. they moved around a couple times in order to keep chris safe, and especially when someone did find them ( even if it was friendly ) but mostly grew up in california, and a lot of it is to do with the fact chris loves it there so much

but chris knows about the spy world, what her mom does and the type of school she works at, but it never interested her enough to try and reach out or fight her dad on it as she enjoyed her life

she remembers her mom as someone stubborn, argumentative, volatile which is the opposite of her dad who was patient, loving and endearing — so it’s a no brainer for her, she loves her dad a lot and he gave up a lot for her while her mom gave chris up for that world, her job, etc aka nada

BUT her dad died in a car accident recently that she was also in but was only a bit beaten up at most ( has some cuts / new scars, learn more below ) leaving her mother to swiftly pick her up and enrol her into gallagher, more to keep an eye on her than anything.

her mom chose her majors and some of her classes for her, which chris is mad about, but mainly bc looking at what ones were offered she’d def pick macgyver anyway, and her mom argued p+e was a step into the physical and combat side of thing without being too heavy on it ( tho it’s the major she teaches so she’s biased and chris just thinks she wants to be closer ) but tbh ? chris just doesn’t want her mom to be right whatsoever or have the satisfaction of thinking she knows her daughter in anyway at all but she knows if she went undecided she’d probably pick those up again in her second year so she’s just ‘ going with it ‘ begrudgingly as if she has no choice

PERSONALITY

extremely stubborn, which she gets from her mom, would rather ruin her life than go back on something or admit she was wrong, if she apologises for something she'll find a way to do it where she's not actually ever saying the words ' im sorry ' or ' i was wrong ' and would rather start another argument than do that — but obviously she loves other people apologising to her

she is generally nice ??? i just think she can be irritated easy ?????? like a bit of a hot head tho she'd argue she's chill, she is mostly chill but likes to debate, be right, and can be very my way or the high way at times — i’ll figure her out more as i play her bc i can’t tell if she’s mean or not but i don’t think so, just a bit tougher than she needs to be

in my head she’s like a seb/luc hybrid so . . . take that as you will

doesn’t dislike gallagher ( mostly ) but thinks all the legacies — even tho she technically is one, she doesn’t identify as one — are entitled spoiled brats and should get their heads out of their ass, doesn't like that being a legacy is even a thing though a lot of it definitely comes from her bitter resentment towards her mom and how she'd have rather leave her and her dad than leave the spy life hbsjhbsjhb also i think bc of her mom she has level 5 clearance which . . . she’s not complaining about but definitely complaining that clearance levels are even a thing, she’s gonna contradict herself a lot, i feel it

MISC

i THINK she’s only arrived, like, at the start of spring semester tbh, she wasn’t here for fall so she is new new

halfway through her first year at stanford studying art alongside film and media as a minor before her mom brought her to gallagher — which she's kind of not happy about like she understands her dad didn't want it for her, she also wanted to just stay in california but the only family she has now is on her mom's side.

she's still enrolled at stanford, though dropped her minor, and is studying online for her major as she's made it clear to her mom she doesn't want to be a spy so she pulled a few strings with the stanford admission board to allow her studying to continue ( idek if this is allowed i'm just pretending her mom is powerful enough to do it ) — it was a big reason chris agreed to come to gallagher, not that she had much of a choice, bc she wants her ‘ normal ‘ life and her ‘ normal ‘ degree regardless of being at a spy school

only her mom calls her christina and she actually hates it so pls dont unless you are trying to get on her bad side — also she probs avoids her mom like the plague so don’t bring that up either

often covered in little cuts and bruises from her skating but she’s got two fresh / soon to be scars on the left side of her face on the top of her cheek bone and on her jaw from a shards of glass when she was in the car accident — she is the type to pick her scabs until they bleed again, too, so i picture her with loads of little scars especially on her hands, elbows and knees

she did learn self defense from her dad growing up and she has studied jiujitsu and akido since she was around thirteen, she also boxes but it's more casual like for stress and stuff rather than something she takes overly seriously

she likes surfing, diving, enjoys the kind of world that exists underwater where it's just peaceful and calm so she will be around the lake a lot / at the pool if you need to find her

she’s 5’3 and never wears heels

pansexual and while it might change i wanna say she's not overly sexual, like wouldn't have hookups for no reason ?? but potentially some one night stands or drunken mistakes or whatever. doesn't look down on sluts but i think she doesn't have the most confidence in that area, or in self esteem in general, so she'll ??? only really have a frequent thing if she feels Hella comfortable

the type to have crushes tho, but not act on them at all bc again self esteem issues

bit of a tomboy, skater, stoner — though she wouldn't identify as one — really loves movies and can be a proper filmophile, probably has more film soundtracks on her spotify unwrapped than she does actual artists and don't get her started on Women— in film bc she won't stop

very active, sporty, probs trying to parkour around campus

enjoys painting, sketching, simply creating things — often is filming, riding a longboard, working on some kind of little project she'll take too seriously but won't show people until it's perfect

is a little pretentious at times ??? doesn't necessarily mean to be but if it's a debate on a topic she's passionate about ( such as art, film, etc ) then she will try to ensure you know just how knowledgeable she is on it, she's not afraid to flex but she wouldn't outwardly flex for no reason if that makes sense

she also . . . feels p dumb at gallagher tbh, a lot of her strengths lie in her creativity and art and now she’s very ??? wtf am i doing ?? but she will continue to act like she knows !

can speak english, french, german and spanish all pretty fluently, italian well enough to get by, knows a bit of japanese bc she’s . . . a weeb sometimes but also bc of her martial arts

CONNECTIONS

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( SPY ) — so this would more than likely be before her parents divorce, but she’s not against keeping in contact a little if she liked you, it could have also been a family who reached out to her dad afterwards because while he’d move away / hide his location promptly after, he would still help them if they needed it ( 1 / ? )

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( NON SPY ) — same thing, but would have probably been after the divorce, just normal families that her and her dad knew, neighbours, work colleagues, school friends, would more than likely have also needed to be west coast sorta area but if your muse was there briefly, they could have kept in contact once they’d left ( 0 / ? )

LEGACIES — she potentially . . . won’t like you if you’re a legacy and you are egotistical / assholey even a tiny bit, bc that basically proves her argument that they’re ALL like that jshbjsbjs but i wud like her to have legacies that she . . . hates that she likes as well, i think she’ll realise p quickly most are fine lmao

ART HOES — whether they’re into painting as well and they do it together or they let her paint them !

SMOKE / SKATE BUDS — one or the other, both, whatever !!

A HOOK UP THAT’S EITHER ALREADY HAPPENED OR GOING TO — in my head she’s a bit ??? w sex tbh so maybe plot this out a bit more but can be a ?? positive relationship or a negative one idm

CRUSHES !!!!!!!!! — she’s not even been at the school long but im certain she probs has some already

i’m not good w wanted connections so pls just hmu if u have ideas and as usual like dis for plots / jus message me, i’ll be on discord !! if you don’t have/use discord just message me first on tumblr bc otherwise i wont realise jhbsjhbjhbsj

#GOD ITS SO LONG #gallagher:intro

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psychewithwings · 4 years

Text

Love Bakugo Pt 5: The Letter

The red light of the sunrise was just starting to appear over the horizon. Tears were already brimming in your tired eyes as you opened your sock drawer. You took out the letter, which you kept at the bottom. You’d felt it would be well hidden and kept safe there, especially since your sock drawer, was your own. Looking at the letter, the memory of that night was becoming more and more clear. It was just after graduating UA, and Momo had thrown a party at her house for everyone. You had gone out to the garden to contemplate your entire future. You were half excited, half terrified to start the rest of your life. You were staring into one of the many fountains when Katsuki had come to stand next to you. “I don’t know how to feel about it either...” he’d said. It was the closest he had ever admitted to being scared. “I just don’t know if I’m ready... to move on,” you had said back. You turned to him, and you remember being surprised that he had such a soft expression on his face. He placed his hand on your hip, “do you remember that day in the stairs when you made me be your friend?” You touched his arm, and slowly stroked up and down his arm with your fingertips. “I didn’t make you, ya goon, but I remember that day.” He hadn’t been furious that you’d called him a name, it was then you knew something was changing. “Listen, I’m glad it happened, that we became friends... but,” he took a deep breath, “I don't wanna be friends anymore.” He leaned down and captured your lips in a thrilling kiss. He pulled you into him with his hand on your hip, and the other was holding your face. His lips were softer against yours then you’d imagined. He was gentle but fiery and passionate as always. It was the first time he had kissed you and you felt like you were being ignited from the inside out. He pulled away and said simply, “I’m not great with... this saying how I feel crap, but I know I gotta do it, so here.” He’d shoved the letter at you, embarrassed. “Read it, then give me an answer.” Here you were, years later, you’d kept it but never given him an answer though you’d read it at least 100 times. You turned the envelope over in your hands. It was blue, it had your name written on it in Bakugo’s unique and surprisingly neat handwriting. On the front, he’d placed a sticker of a small cloud. The letter had been opened and closed so many times that the sticker didn't hold it together any longer. You took out the letter itself, a single tear found it’s way onto the paper. You were crying for real now as you read the letter, it went as follows... Hey, I’m shit with not the best with saying how I feel, so I figured I’d try writing it out. That day in the stairs was the beginning of my feelings for you. Sometimes when you’d beat me in a match, and turn me into a damn sniveling puddle of a man for you, I’d pretend your quirk hadn’t worn off so I could just say how I feel. I don't know if you feel the same way, and I hope that by now I’ve gotten the courage to kiss you. I love you and I want you to be mine, even if it’s just for a while. But I don’t like that many people and I like you, so I wouldn’t mind if you were mine forever. Just let me know, do you want to be mine? Do you want me to be yours? I want us to belong to each other and Im sure that sounds fucking stupid but it’s true. If you do, I’m waiting for you right now. And if you don't, it’s okay. Just know I will think about you, care about you, always. Yours, Bakugo Tears were streaming down your face but you grabbed your phone and called Katsuki anyway. He answered on the first ring but he waited for you to speak. “I don’t deserve a second chance, I-I don’t even deserve for you to hear me out. I should have told you what I was thinking at the time but everything was changing a-and I was just so scared. And this is so stupid but I was scared of being truly happy... for once. Because- if I ever did something...a-a-and messed it up, I don’t know if I could handle that...” You tried to slow your breathing, to collect yourself, to say everything you’d held in for so long. “Katsuki, I love you, I have for longer than i’d like to admit, and I’m so sorry I waited this long to tell you. I’m so mad at myself right now- but I fucking love you a lot okay? I don’t care about the revenge anymore because... I feel like the point of it was- I just- you care about me more than anyone ever has. I love you, I love you, I’m sorry-” He hung up there. He’d said that it wasn’t too late at the car earlier but maybe he’d had time to think about how long it took you to come to this place and maybe he had changed his mind. He had a right to. After all, it had taken you years to admit this, why should he still care about you like that? You held your head in your hands as you cried over the loss of love. The love you’d tried so hard to make real between you and your boyfriend and the true love that you’d let get away with Bakugo. You felt like you were being swallowed whole by regret. You flopped face down into the mattress and wailed, freeing yourself of the guilt and anger and sadness that you’d held back for so long.

“Hey babe? What’s wrong?” your boyfriend was finally back from his escapades it seemed. You lifted your head, your breath shaky. “Get out,” you said softly. “What’s wrong with you huh?” You whirled around now, “What’s wrong? What’s fucking wrong? You’re cheating on me!” you yelled at him. He jumped back, worried, but quickly covered his fear, “what are you talking-” “you know exactly what I’m talking about you piece of shit.” You were staring him down, waiting for his resolve to break, “babe, it was work.” “STOP LYING!” You were done, you ran to the closet and grabbed a suit case. You laid it on the bed and started ripping open drawers, throwing your clothes into it. “We can talk this out babe, I think you’re overreacting a bit, it’s a misunderstanding, if you’d let me explain-” “Fuck you.” You were shoving clothes and other precious belongings into the case. You went back to the closet and grabbed another suitcase. You picked up an armful of sweaters, dresses, and coats and threw them in, hangers and all. You grabbed your jewelry container and took out a pair of earrings he’d gifted you a year ago for your anniversary. “You can give these to that other girl,” you said as you chucked them at his head. He dodged them and then shouted, “you’re acting crazy! there’s no-one else!” You stopped and put your head in your hands. “Katsuki told me everything weeks ago, he saw you coming out of the closet with her at work.” This time his face dropped for real, “he what?” You didn’t answer him this time, just continued packing. “I was planning on getting revenge for your cheating on me, Katsuki was helping me do it, but now I don’t care about that anymore.“ Your ex boyfriend was standing against the wall, puffing out his chest to keep his ego in check. “You know what? I haven’t been in love with you for a long time, and it took all this for me to figure that out.” You could tell those words stung him. “Where the hell do you think you’re gonna go huh?” You were zipping up the second suitcase, “I honestly don’t know, I just know that right now, I’m leaving you and I’m never coming back here...” “He’s the fucking cheater, he should be the one packing up.”

You whirled around. Bakugo was standing behind you, in the doorway of the apartment. “Katsuki,” you paused taking him in. He was wearing the same clothes from earlier and his eyes looked tired from lack of sleep. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you advanced towards him. He smiled and put his hand on the top of your head. “I figured you were mad... cuz you hung up and-” he stopped you, putting his hand on your cheek. “I just couldn’t tell you this over the phone, I had to see your face, tell you in person...” You waited, studying his softened expression. “I’m not just gonna be your rebound, I’m in this for the long run and it’s all or nothing. So you better be serious about us because I’m dead serious.” He was staring into your eyes, searching for the truth behind them. The tears welled back up in your eyes. “You are so much more than a rebound, and I am very serious, but I want to take things slow and do this the right way... I don’t want to rush in and ruin it.” Bakugo brushed his thumb along your cheek and you leaned the weight of your head against his palm. “You’ll ruin nothing, and as long as I have you... it’s not slow.” Your ex boyfriend was standing in the doorway watching the entire exchange. “Oh I see now, you thought that just because I was having sex with someone else you could go and make a whole new relationship?! You’re such a bitch you know-” “Shut the fuck up...” Bakugo growled then turned towards your ex-boyfriend. “Oh buddy, you better start packing up right now before I destroy you.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “No Katsuki, it’s okay, I’m leaving. I want to.” Bakugo looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead he walked straight into the bedroom. He looked your ex-boyfriend up and down, before punching him directly in the face. You watched in delight as your ex crumpled to the floor, holding his nose and whining. “You’re scum, I want you to remember that,” Bakugo yelled before picking up your bags and heading towards the door. “You’re sure you wanna leave?” he asked. You nodded, “I want him to be alone in this house, think about what he did... and I don’t wanna be anywhere that I shared with him.” Bakugo nodded and gave you a smirk, “then you’ll stay with me.” You had told him you couldn’t do that, you wanted to take things slow. But as he was putting your bags in your car for you he spat, “tech, where the hell else are you gonna go?”

Tag List: Tag List: @rebel—black @random-fandom-girl-24 @unawi13-blog @brokennerdalert

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo #mha #bnha #mha one shot #bnha oneshot #katsuki bakugo oneshot

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lavenderlattaes · 4 years

Text

i love you. | bts

⇒ summary: you said you love him in the most casual way.

⇒ [ idolverse! au ]

⇒ pairing: bts x reader

⇒ word count: 2.6k words (in total)

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: i think a few swear words

⇒ note: this was requested ages ago sksks im sorry anon, i was lost on how i should write this bc I’ve never tried writing reactions before and i think it’s supposed to be in bullet(proof)form but I found myself writing it like this lol. and since we’re celebrating mots:7 and i am absolutely LOVING the new tracks rn, here’s the reaction you request years ago he he. I’ll have to add dividers and other stuff for this later on bc it’s too long but im on mobile rn. ANYWAY ENOUGH TALKING,, ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy!＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

kim seokjin:

You’ve been dating Seokjin for a few months now and you can’t help but fall for him completely. It was hard not to — he made you laugh, he was so selfless, and he fed you with his amazing cooking skills.

The thing is, you haven’t said the three words yet. The three, special words that could — no matter how sweet it may be — either make or break you both.

The boys had just gotten back from recording and you were at their dorms, Jin coming up to you as soon as they entered to plant a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, love. Let me go wash up then I’ll help you,” he greets, and you smile at him, going back to cleaning the vegetables for dinner.

“Hey, Y/N,” Hoseok greets chirpily and you greet him, as he jumps onto a chair to watch you work.

“How are things with hyung?” He casually starts, placing his head in the palm of his hands as he grins at you. You’re closest to Hoseok, since you grew up with him and he was the one who introduced you to the boys.

“Oh, we’re doing great, he makes me happy,” you admit genuinely and Hoseok smiles. “He makes great food, doesn’t he?” Hoseok asks you and you giggle, nodding.

“Yeah, I love him, he feeds me well,” you sigh happily and Hoseok laughs.

You turn around to grab a bowl from the upper cupboard but groan when you realize you can’t reach it. You’re about to call Hoseok for help when a familiar arm snakes around your waist. You look up and see Jin, a smile on his face as he reaches up to get the bowl for you.

“I love you too, baby.” He replies to your statement earlier, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

min yoongi:

Instead of locking himself up in the studio to work on more songs or in his room to sleep, Yoongi found himself sitting on the couch, tuned in to a show where you were currently guesting on.

You were a famous producer and idol as well, and that’s how the two of you met in the first place. You’ve been dating for quite some time now, and you even went public with your relationship just a month back. The public surprisingly took the news very well, and no wars or issues had happened between your fans.

“So, Y/N, you and Yoongi just went public with your relationship last month, right?” The interviewer begins and you nod, sipping on your water bottle, a soft smile on your face.

Yoongi found himself smiling, turning the volume up just a tad bit. “How are things between you and the fans? Any fan wars going on?” You laugh and shake your head. “There’s definitely none of that,” you begin, “our fans are very nice and have even become friends. Most of my fans started listening to BTS’ music — if they didn’t already —” Yoongi chuckles at the comment, “and Yoongi’s fans have popped up in my feed to comment on how much they love my songs.” You finished.

Yoongi’s smile got wider and he made himself more comfortable as the interview went on. “It’s nice to know that everything’s going well for you both.” The interviewer gushes and you giggle, your laugh, making Yoongi blush from his seat on the couch.

You sure have him wrapped around your finger, huh?

“Yeah, I’m sure my fans love him too,” the words slip out from your lips too soon and Yoongi’s eyes widen. It’s the first time you’ve said you love him, and even if it’s indirect, it still makes his heart race.

“And I love you too, Y/N. So much, baby.” Yoongi whispers, his eyes trained on you until the interview ends, a loving smile on his face.

jung hoseok:

You love dancing, just as much as Hoseok does and that’s how you both met. You’ve been going to the same dance academy since you were a kid, and when you were graduated college, you chose to work at your dance academy.

Hoseok somehow found himself inside your dance academy, where he was supposed to teach a master class for the students there for the next three days. At the time, your artistic director was out of the country to be with some of the ballerinas of your academy who were competing. You were left in charge so you had to attend to Hoseok for the entire time. Somehow, the two of you clicked because of your passion for dance and the rest is history.

“Y/N, where’s Hoseok?” One of the little girls in your class tugged on your sweatpants while you were having a break in the middle of their class. It was no secret to the entire academy that you’re dating the “cool and sunshine teacher” they had a few months back. Everyone absolutely adored him, especially the younger kids who wanted to be like him.

“He has practice too, sweetie. Why do you ask?” You crouch down to her height and she sits down cross legged. At the mention of Hoseok, the other kids join in and form a circle around you.

“Isn’t he coming over?” One kid asks, and they all start nodding and talking over the other. You laugh and get them to settle down. “He’s busy, so I’m not sure,” you tell them and they groan.

“I miss Hoseok hyung. He’s so cool, and I love how he teaches class,” one of the younger boys sigh, hands crossed over his chest. You chuckle at the adorable sight, beckoning him over to give you a hug.

“Yeah, me too, bud.” You reply and the kids gasp. “YOU LOVE HOSEOK?!” They start shouting and running around, repeating the same thing over and over. “Y/N loves Hoseok.”

You shrug and stand up, gathering them back to the center of the studio to continue the class. “Come on, kids. Back to class. If you do well, today, maybe we can have Hoseok teach another class soon,” you say, going over to the speaker to play their song.

“I love you too!” A familiar voice shouts from the back and all of you turn around to see the one and only, Jung Hoseok.

kim namjoon:

You didn’t know how you managed to get yourself strapped to an outdoor rollercoaster, but here you were, with a small camera placed in front of your seat to record the entire ride.

“Why are we doing this again?” You choke out, turning to your band member beside you.

She was calm and collected about the entire thing, and she shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe because the fans wanted us to do this for the live?” You throw your head back, dreading the ride that was going to happen shortly.

“Relax, Y/N. You can do this!” Your maknae tells you from the back and you whine. “I’m the leader, why did I let this happen anyway?”

“Again, because the fans wanted us to do this. They’re watching right now, you know.” The eldest member chirps up and you groan as the rest of your members laugh.

“And you guys just had to put me in the front, huh,” you grumble, just as the ride started to move. You squeal, gripping the onto the handles in front of you. Your members let out whoops of cheers and laughter as the car went up.

You could see the buildings from below and the other rides, especially the rides for the kids. Why didn’t you ride that instead? “Y/N, fighting!” Your members cheer as you scream. The car reaches the top and you gulp, bracing yourself for the drop.

You feel the car tip over dangerously and the moment it drops, you throw your fears away and scream as loud as you can. “Kim Namjoon, if I die, you better know how much I love you!” You scream, completely forgetting you’re being filmed in real time and if he was watching, he just heard you say you love him for the very first time. And even if he didn’t, he’d definitely find out about it soon.

Oh, well. It’s true anyway, and you weren’t concerned about that right now. The ride makes another sudden drop but this time it tilted to your side and you let out another scream. “Mom, mom, mom I wanna go home!” You scream and you’re certain you’ll be met with memes the moment you get off the ride.

If you’re somehow still conscious after the ride.

park jimin:

“Y/N, truth or dare?” Jeongguk plops down beside you on the couch and you tear your eyes away from the show you were watching and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What’s this for?” You ask suspiciously. Jeongguk shakes his head innocently, his eyes glancing at his hyung who was sleeping soundly in your lap.

Your hands subconsciously start playing with Jimin’s hair and he cuddles closer to your stomach.

“Come on, truth or dare!” Jeongguk presses and you sigh. “Truth, because Jimin’s sleeping and I don’t want to disturb him.” You give in and Jeongguk grins.

“Okay, let’s play fast talk,” Jeongguk claps his hands excitedly and you choke on your saliva. “I thought we were playing truth or dare?”

“I change my mind. Answer with yes or no,” Jeongguk adjusts himself on the couch, a mischievous smile on his face.

You sigh. “Fine.”

“Are you tired of hyung?”

You glare at him. “No.”

“Is he clingy?”

“Yes, but I love it.”

“Is he adorable?”

“Yes, what’s with these questions Jeon?”

“Don’t ask. Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.” You stop running your hands through Jimin’s hair when you realize what you said and whip your head to look at Jeongguk. “Y/N, zero. Jeongguk, one.”

You’re about to retort when you’re interrupted. “I love you too,” Jimin mumbles, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your wrist, your cheeks heating up.

“Thanks, Gguk, even though you had to witness us say we love each other for the first time and completely ruin the moment,” Jimin mutters half-asleep.

kim taehyung:

Your eyes scan the comments coming in, looking for a question to answer.

“Where’s Yeontan?” You read. “He’s out with Taehyung right now,” you answer, and your own dog barks up from beside you, making you giggle. You pat your lap and your dog jumps up, appearing in your Vlive as well.

“When’s the next comeback?” You read and laugh, shaking your head. “Can’t tell you that right now, my loves. But expect new music this year,” you wink and your fans go wild in the comments, begging for you to reveal just a little bit more.

“No can do, guys. It’s either I let my love for you prevail or I lose my job,” you say in your most serious tone and your fans start taking back their pleads. Your eyes widen and you wave your hands frantically, giggling at the camera.

“I’m kidding, guys! I’m kidding!” Your dog barks up and you can only assume he’s trying to help you out too.

“Let’s move onto another topic, shall we?” You clear your throat after your laughter dies down and various other questions start filling in.

“Oooh! Yea, let’s play a game!” Your eyes light up and your fans start sending hearts in. “We’ll ask you to list down a number of things in the just twenty seconds,” you read off and grin, nodding.

“Okay, I’ll answer whichever my eyes read first,” you adjust yourself on your chair, stroking your dog’s furry hair as he waggles his tail in content.

“List of things you love,” you read off. “Oh! My family, my dog, my fans, my music, waking up late on my day off, spring, ice cream in the winter,” you pause slightly, and your fans start counting down, making you panic.

5...4...3...2…

“Uh, uh, TAEHYUNG!” You blurt out, just as the number one spams in the comments. For a moment there the comments stop coming in and you’re unsure if the app crashed or your wifi just started to suck.

“THAT’S THE FIRST TIME SHE SAID SHE LOVES TAEHYUNG!” Your eyes land on the comment and everyone starts agreeing.

“Oh, wow, ha ha, look at the time,” your eyes look down to your wrist and you mentally curse to find no watch resting there.

“Bye, guys!” You squeak out and end the live abruptly.

You let out a scream as your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Your dog pokes your hand with his nose and you can only pout at him.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Your dog stares at you for a moment, before letting out what you assume is a bark of agreement.

jeon jeongguk:

“I have to go on stage now, baby. I’ll see you after our stage, okay? Meet me back here,” Jeongguk kisses your cheek quickly and your cheeks flush, making him giggle.

“Good luck,” you manage to stutter out and he waves cutely, running up to his hyungs who’ve started to head for the stage. Once he turns around the corner, you fan yourself, still not used to his affectionate actions.

“Y/N!” You hear someone call from behind you, and compose yourself before turning around.

You’re met with a camera and some crew, and you assume they’re doing some backstage interview for tonight’s show.

“Hey!” You wave your hand and send hearts toward the camera, knowing how much your fans loved it when you did that.

“How was your stage, tonight?” One of the crew asks and you look up in thought before flashing a bright smile at the camera.

“I had lots of fun, especially because I saw so many of my fans in the crowd today. You guys were especially loud, I hope you didn’t go deaf or something,” you giggle and the crew laugh along with you.

“It must have been tiring, yeah?” They ask and you shrug. “In a sense, yes. But all of that goes away when I see people, not just my fans, enjoying the music I put out for them. I pour my heart into my music so it’s nice to know people appreciate it.” You smile and they nod.

“You love your fans a lot, don’t you?” You nod at the question and they grin. “Who else do you love?” They ask cheekily.

“Oh, that’s easy,” you begin, a surge of confidence coursing through you. You’re sure this is a good enough payback for leaving you flustered earlier.

“Who is it?” They ask innocently and you grin.

“Jeon Jeongguk,” you casually say and the crew whispers excitedly. “Who else would it be anyway?” You add and the crew laughs, nodding.

They ask you to say a few more words about your upcoming album which you happily answer, and they bow in thanks before heading off.

From behind, you can hear the shouts get louder and people congratulating your boyfriend’s group, with special greetings directed towards him.

You turn around and see his confused expression. He sees you and raises an eyebrow and you can only smile back, shrugging as you make your way over to him.

“What was that all about?” He asks after planting a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. You shake your head and grin at him.

“It’s nothing,” you take his hand in yours and you both start walking in the direction you of their dressing room. “Okay,”

He raises an eyebrow at you unsurely.

Oh, he won’t know what’s coming.

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chrisdiels-babygirl · 3 years

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Wait youre doing ships?? YESSSS OK this is nadia from the main btw

Ok so im 5'3 which is apparently SHORT but I dont think it is personally so idk. I think you've seen what I look like from my selfies in the past so Imma skip that but basically brown curly hair and brown eyes. I have seven piercings but im def planning to get more bc I'm ✨addicted✨.

Im very loud and people say i can be aggressive when they meet me but honestly I'm just very passionate so it comes across that way. Actually can ramble about anything I care about for hours (and. Oftentimes will, sorry). Im going to become a lawyer once the degree comes through so I guess thats good 😭. A huge flirt but PERSONALLY I think I suck at it i just do it for fun.

My hobbies are sewing (working on making my whole wardrobe rn), boxing (we've been OVER this), writing SOMETIMES, and I just love spending time with friends and family. I can bellydance but im HELLA shy about it. Im the mom friend and ALSO the spontaneous plans at three am friend. I need breaks from routine or I snap. Also my love language is touch starved physical touch and I will koala hug you 24/7 when im needy.

Ummmm this is dragging sooooo im gonna cut it off here 🤣 I tried not to write this with bias toward any of the boys so let's see what you come up with. hope this was okay Sof ❤❤

Hi bby, I love youuu and I hope you like it gorgeous🥰💕

@flamediel @imbrium-mare

Ok so I've took some time to think about this and I've decided that I would 100% ship you with zabdiel and its not because he's the one you like. There are aspects of you that are similar to Chris like loving piercings, being loud and a big flirt, but the rest of you screams zabdiel, which is why I could deadass see you being friends with Chris and he introduces you to zabdiel. I feel like you guys would be that couple that are genuinely also each others best friends. I see you guys on your first date and he'll ask you what you're passionate about and he'll just love listening to you ramble on and on while he looks at you with a dreamy look on his face, I could also see that being one of the things he's loves about you once you start dating, he would think its hella cute how you ramble🥺🤧 I could also see zab being there when you graduate from law school, acting like a proud boyfriend bragging and telling everyone how proud he is of you "hey this is my girlfriend and she's a badass lawyer😌"(as he should, we love a couple that supports each others careers👏🏼😌) I could see the two of you just side by side, him working on music and you sewing, he'll occasionally stop to just watch you and admire how beautiful you are, I feel like he'd also just be interested in what started out as just a bit a fabric is now a beautiful clothing piece, he'd also never fail to let you know how talented you are. I could see the both of you going to the gym together to do boxing (which nadia please do ✨the lords work✨ gives us some more boxdiel content🙏🏼) anyway I could definitely see him thinking its hot that you box. You know damn well if you writing anything his nosey ass is gon be like "lemme see😩" and he gon end up stealing it from you anyway to read it just so he can hype you up, but if its fanfic about him he ain't never gon stop teasing you about it. I could 100% see him asking you to show him how you belly dance and you'd get all shy and he'd be like "please teach me" you'd eventually give in and he'd probably just end up goofing around failing at belly dancing, making you laugh at him while appa just sits on the couch staring at him confused as fuck🤭😂 ok now let's get one thing straight I know the two of you would be the biggest baby's with each other, holding hands, make outs, pecks on the forehead and cheek, lots of cuddles, I can also see you wearing one of his hoodies that would be way to big on you and he'd just take one look at you and he'd be like "you're the most adorable person ever🥺🤧" and then he would literally smush you in cuddles.

Send a short description and I'll ship you with a member of CNCO and tell you what I think your relationship would be like.

#flamediel #mutuals #I got all soft and mushy writing this🤧#zabdiel de jesus #cnco #cncomusic #my asks #my asks are open #send me an ask and i'll ship you

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clarafms · 4 years

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✼:♡*ﾟ✿ ↝ alisha boe . cisfemale . she/her . ／ lucille ‘lucky’ sheridan is blasting bad friend by rina sawayama again … ugh , i swear they play that song every single day ! you’d think they’d learn how to pipe down . oh , you don’t know them ? they live in apartment 2b . i haven’t talked to them much , but i know that they’re twenty-three years old , and that they’ve been living in the complex for two years . i always run into them when they’re coming back home from vinnie’s vinyls , and they seem really piquant and impetuous . maybe you’ll have better luck with the aries than i do .

hiiiii babes, i’m lily ! i’m so sorry this is late, i had to decompress after my very last final of the semester ( she’s a scholar ! ) anyway this is my daughter lucky n i love her very much. here is a stats page and here is a page that i made with some quick social media stuff but you can read below the cut for more about her and hit me up because im always a hoe for plots ! i’m so excited to meet w all your muses so give this a like if you wanna plot ! intro: tw death, tw drugs

lucille aminah sheridan was born on april 12, 1997 in brooklyn, new york to yasmiin ahmed and kieran sheridan. it was a difficult labor, over twenty-four hours, and yasmiin suffered obstructive labor. she died in childbirth, but the baby miraculously made it out alive and unharmed. kieran, in shock, named her lucille aminah after their grandparents, but the nurses were the first to call her ‘lucky’.

lucky’s childhood was an interesting one, to say the least. to cope with the loss of his partner, kieran lost himself in drinking and drugs. lucky was generally left on her own most of the time to adventure around bed-stuy. she was rosy-cheeked, giggling lightning, zigzagging down bedford avenue. their family aren’t exactly well off, not with kieran’s debts hanging over their heads, but lucky finds ways sprinkled throughout her lonely existence to entertain herself: it was the neighborhood store owners and the families in her apartment complex who would allow her to hang around and not go home, the pizza parlor that will let her bum a slice, the skate park where the older boys ruffle her hair, and most importantly music.

lucky is a bright and creative kid, but she didn’t generally excel in school; it’s too much sitting around, too many rules, and lucky has a bit of an authority problem. but she took to music like nothing else -- learning piano, guitar, singing, and music production. when lucky is fourteen, she wins a scholarship to the packer collegiate institute in historic (read: wealthy) brooklyn heights. for the first time, she is suddenly and painfully aware of her well-worn clothes, the way her father shows up to concerts and parent-teacher conferences with scotch on his breath. through sheer drive alone, she propels herself to berklee college of music on a full scholarship. she graduates with a degree in music production and decides to move as far away as possible; after all, she’s always loved an adventure.

she’s now been living in apartment 2b at opal apartments for two years now and she genuinely loves both the apartment complex and vancouver. she has regular dj nights at downtown bars and she’s been able to string together steady gigs and production opportunities to scrape together an existence that she’s happy with.

personality wise, she is a CLASSIC aries -- she’s short-tempered and reckless, will rush into anything she believes is an adventure. impulse control is at a -1000.

she’s also very creative and charming in a witty-mean kind of way. steadfastly loyal to her friends -- if you get into her inner circle it’s for life ! her friends are her chosen family.

she’s passionate about things, but it definitely comes off as a little theatrical if you don’t like her?

her worst trait is that she’s incredibly competitive about everything. she literally will get mad over a game of cards.

she loves to skateboard, she’s definitely more of a tomboy in terms of style and personality. she wears a lot of bright colors. big pants tiny top bisexual energy !!

spends all her time at vinnie’s vinyls ! she loves it there.

you can click here for some connection ideas i reblogged, but here are some more:

ride or die friends: pleaseeeee she needs some people to be crazy with !! let her be goofy and dumb

sibling type relationship: someone who she can just tell everything to !!

frenemies/enemies: someone that just... does not like lucky or vice versa !! definitely love it... plus we could add a lil ~spice~ if you’re interested

fwb: secret feelings ? hate you love you ? :~)

secret relationship: listen i LOVE this type of plot and want it so bad

exes: i could definitely see her being involved with someone especially when she had just moved to vancouver and didn’t know anyone !! maybe they ended on bad terms/good/possible getting back together/fwb ?? choose ur own adventure !!

#opalintro #this is SOOOOO late goodbye #please plot w me anyway

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marvel-mega · 4 years

Text

Are you death or paradise?

(Ron Weasley x Reader)

A/N: apparently im feeling HORRIBLY angsty tonight so here is this heartbreaking fic with my absolute favorite billie eilish song “No time to die”. For reference (Y/H) =your (Hogwarts) house and (Y/H/T)= your hometown for my fellow united state inhabitants..? Well I hope you enjoy this is my first Harry Potter fit but I am hopelessly in love with Ron Weasley <3 so expect more??

word count: 1.8k

warnings: sadness but also badass reader and Hermoine being the bad guy sorry... not sorry

*I don't own this gif credit to the owner!*

I should've known

I'd leave alone

Just goes to show

That the blood you bleed

Is just the blood you owe

To say you felt defeated was an understatement.

No defeated isn't the right word you felt foolish, played, dumb, and most of all hurt.

You knew there was something between Ron and Hermoine but you turned a blind eye.

Why wouldn't you? You loved Ron more than anything

You wanted to believe him when he said Hermoine was barely a friend.

"Honestly love we just tolerate each other for Harrys' sake."

We were a pair

But I saw you there

Too much to bear

You were my life

But life is far away from fair

Yet here you were walking into the Gryffindor common room and there they were

Kissing.

No, that wasn't enough

how can you describe a kiss that looks like its been waiting for years to be felt,

a kiss that looked like it was oxygen for both people,

a kiss that was full of passion.

Harry was behind you waiting to enter when he almost crashed behind you and was about to ask you what happened when you turned quickly and looked at him red-rimmed eyes and motioned with a single finger for him to not make a sound as you left the common room.

Was I stupid to love you?

Was I reckless to help?

Was it obvious to everybody else

That I'd fallen for a lie?

You were never on my side

Fool me once, fool me twice

Are you death or paradise?

Now you'll never see me cry

Looking back you remember telling yourself that you didn't let him see you cry because he didn't deserve to see you so vulnerable.

But in all honesty, you didn't want him to see you cry so you would never have to mention this incident.

You were willing to turn a blind eye to his infidelity because you loved him so much.

Who had you let yourself become?

You knew it was going to come up eventually especially if the two of them wanted to carry on with their new relationship who were you to jeopardize that?

There's just no time to die

I let it burn

You're no longer my concern

Faces from my past return

Another lesson yet to learn

That I'd fallen for a lie

You were never on my side

"How could I have let him fool me ?" You asked aloud to Cho.

Neither of you spoke very often considering you being in (Y/H) and her being in Ravenclaw.

But she saw you crying in the corridor

and girls help girls in need when boys break their hearts.

The two of you were sitting on the stairs leading to the grand hall.

You couldn't help but think back to a happier time when you had finally gotten the courage to ask Ron to the yule ball.

But he watched her the whole night, you were blind

And everyone else saw what you chose to ignore.

"I knew there was something between them and I still thought I was better, somehow different

I still thought he could love me, not her."

"Hey, this is not your fault. He is a coward and a complete idiot if he can't see how perfect you are." Cho explained as gently as she could but she couldn't hide her anger for the red-headed git.

"I appreciate that Cho. I'm starting to think this school is cursed," you laughed lightly.

You were from the United States specifically (Y/H/T). It was your decision whether to go to Hogwarts or Ilvermorny and foolishly you choose to go to Hogwarts and were currently living with a distant relative of your mothers'.

"What if I just went to Ilvermorny back home?"

Cho looked completely aghast. "You mean you'd leave?"

"I don't see why not it's our last year sure but I was planning on moving back home after graduation anyways. This makes it easier to make connections and find a job back home don't you think?"

Cho didn't know what to think. Yes, Ron hurt you but enough to make you want to completely leave your professors, your friends, and more importantly him?

"You would leave without saying goodbye?" Cho said sadly.

"Nothing is for certain. But I'll send an owl to my parents. They've been trying to convince me to come home for a while maybe they were right."

Fool me once, fool me twice

Are you death or paradise?

Now you'll never see me cry

There's just no time to die

The days after the incident,

you referred to it like this because it made it easier to talk about like it was a car crash or an explosion, not a red-headed goofball you carelessly trusted,

you held your head high through the halls.

'You will not let him see you fall' you told yourself. You were reckless to put your heart on the line like that for him. But what's that saying 'Only fools fall in love' well it couldn't be truer.

Some days were easier than others you had spoken to the head of your house and made up an elaborate sudden illness that would sometimes make it impossible to go to class.

So that covered your classes.

But Ron...

You never spoke to him.

It was easier this way.

Made ripping the bandage off easier.

You went up to the three of them in the courtyard ignoring how Rons' eyes lit up when he saw you coming towards them.

You turned to Hermoine she looked beyond frightened at your cold and calculated stare.

"I was hoping I could have my ancient runes textbook back Miss Granger? I let you borrow it last week"

Hermoine was confused not about the incident Harry had given the two of them an earful when you left the common room.

As far as Hermoine knew you weren't taking ancient runes anymore.

"Are you going to be taking the course again?" She asked politely hoping this met you'd put the whole thing behind you. As if it wasn't a big deal.

You bit your tongue to refrain from saying "like it's any of your business Granger".

"I am. At Ilvermorny, next term. So if you could just leave it in the (Y/H) common room the password is 'paradise falls' I'd appreciate it."

You were feeling very grateful at your ability to remain completely stoic to their gaping mouths at the news that you were transferring.

You glanced over in Harrys' direction.

He was one of the few people that made leaving Hogwarts more difficult.

"Ilvermorny?" He spoke almost as if the word was an insult.

"The wizarding school in America." You replied.

Barely above a whisper, you heard Ron stutter, "W-Why?"

This was the first time you had looked at him since the incident.

He looked for lack of a better word, horrible.

You wanted to scream and shout and cry and rip his head off.

But instead, you gave him a once over from head to toe.

Silently reprimanding him for even thinking you owed him a reason.

Regardless you spoke calmly "Personal reasons Mr. Weasley."

You glanced at the three of them, the golden tiro, the one you trusted the most was the most responsible for the pain you were feeling.

Feeling like you were detached from your voice you said, "It was lovely to have met the three of you and I am fortunate to have had the pleasure of attending the same school.

Goodbye"

You looked Ron in the eyes impassively when speaking the last word.

No time to die

Fool me once, fool me twice

Are you death or paradise?

Now you'll never see me cry

There's just no time to die

You had no time to lose yourself over a boy.

You were an adult and so was Ronald.

So why were there tears falling uncontrollably when you left the courtyard?

Because he dug his claws deep into your heart and soul. That's why.

Oddly enough you kept thinking about his family.

Rons' mother was such an amazing woman.

Speaking of amazing women Ginny was going to grow up and change the world

You knew it.

You never formally met Percy considering his poor decision making.

Bill and Charlie never faltered in making you feel protected and cared for.

And most of all Fred and George made you laugh until your stomach hurt.

You smiled at the thought before running into someone. Or someones?

Attempting to wipe your tears quickly you looked up to find Fred and George looking at you confused.

"Y/N?"

Your heart broke you didn't have it in you to pretend to be strong and made out of marble.

You owed it to yourself to feel what you wanted to feel.

Nor were you going to hold back and keep Rons' secrets for him, he did not deserve that.

He deserved the whole world to know he broke you.

"Hey, guys." You managed a weak, half-hearted smile.

Fred and George looked at each other and simultaneously said "What did he do?"

Jokingly expecting your tears to be for someone else and not their kind little brother.

But when you didn't laugh and let out a downright broken sob they knew it was something extremely serious.

Without question, the twins embraced you and let you wholly release everything you were holding in.

Just then Ron came running down the corridor

"Please Y/N Let me explain it wasn't what it looked-" he spoke breathlessly behind but stopped abruptly when he saw his brothers disappointed expressions. You backed out of the warm encircle.

You took a deep breath. A shaky breath but a deep one none the less.

"Thank you for accepting me into your home. Please let your mother know she is the kindest woman in the world."

Ron spoke behind you "Please my love. Talk to me. Look at me I'm begging"

You turned with such fury and speed Fred and George thought you were going to take your wand out and curse their brother.

You stood silent. In front of the boy, you would've given the world to. Maybe even now you still would.

"You do not get to speak to me. You do not get to 'explain yourself'. You do not get to say anything to me. I fell for a lie. It was my mistake believing you. I have nothing for you, Ronald Weasley."

You watched him slowly fall apart.

You wanted to feel something

Pride

Anger

Something. But you were drained of every emotion you had given everything to Ron.

You turned to Fred and George and smiled dispiritedly.

From behind you, you could hear one of the twins say "Let her go, mate. You messed up. You lost her."

And left. Alone

Just as you had arrived.

#ron weasly imagine #ron weasley #Ron Weasley angst #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #wizarding world #cho chang #hermoine granger #fred and george #fred weasley #george weasley #hogwarts #Ilvermorny

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