#we have this man that has been promising her a better and brighter future ; her father’s love ; her restoration

[fideidefenswhore]

chapuys/mary truthers when you mention their relationship 1536-47:

[emmatgc]

Twin Flame ❤️

Tommy x Grace

The scene of Polly saying "or maybe its time you forget about her" and Tommy replying "forget about who?" is very poignant to me in the whole series and I'm sure to all viewers esp Tommy x Grace shippers. The acting and delivery was superb. The feelings oozing on the screen. We felt it.

Little did we know that line would foreshadow what's gonna happen and expose the mind of Tommy from the beginning, in between the break up, the reunion and her death.

Tommy has always been a conflicted and tormented man. He says this yet does exactly the opposite at times. But with Grace, he is ride or die, hell or heaven, he means what he says. Its black or white regardless his methods are greyish and blurry. Plain and simple, his feelings for Grace was never in question. Never in doubt.

To be fair, he tried to move on. He really did. She held on though. He let her go once, she left. I believe he really believed there's no future for them. I believe he thought he doesn't deserve her for both reasons-she was different and she hurt him. It is very interesting to me that never once Tommy brought up any anger or animosity about the so called "betrayal" of Grace in the show directly. The reunion scene was more of her being married to a rich guy. Hardly real anger. Polly did, yes but in a bigger picture, it is heavily implied, it was her job. An actual job. She got the best of her job and in the process lost her one true love at that time. They say all is fair in love and war but neither was true.

Both lost something. Both used each other. Both hurt each other. But the most amazing thing was? Neither of them cared. Neither was mad enough to let go. Neither was sane enough to move on. Neither was reasonable enough to hate or take revenge against one another. For above all of it was love. Love. Respect. Integrity. They were fighting for causes they believed in. In reality, that is a fight worth fighting for ever damn time.

Tommy fell in love with a woman fighting for a cause she believed in. She was not perfect, oh no, she was very flawed, too. But Tommy?heck he was the worse of them all, the family I mean. No sugar coating. Tommy was not a simple man. He was bad, in a lot of ways. But yes, he had redeemable qualities. Twin flames, they were. For better or worse.

See, their worse is not worse though. Theirs was a shining beacon of hope. What they had was a promise of tomorrow, a brighter future and a peaceful life. All colors of Tommy and Grace were brighter, clearer and bigger. That's deliberate by the show. Not coincidence.

So, 2 years without her don't mean a thing. He chose to let her stay-in his mind, heart and soul. She moved on but see that's one of her biggest mistakes. Grace, for me I believe was the one angry he didn't followed her or stopped her the 1st time. Tommy's ego would not allow that plus Tommy loves Grace too much to force her into staying . He respects her too much to make up her own mind. It upsets many Tommy fans that Tommy was passive, indecisive about Grace like dude, forget about her already! You have your whores, etc..she is just another woman, there will be others as Polly said. Yet, there was none.

Tommy held on. Grace held on. Despite the odds. Both patiently waited under dire circumstances. Both went through the uncertainties and dangers, the family objection, the doomed life and for what? For Love. So, no, nobody forgot. Nobody truly moved on. Nobody let go. Those 2 years be damned. Didn't put a dent to Tommy's feelings. Grace loved Tommy, she came back but Tommy fell harder. She was his oxygen. His air and water. You don't forget that. You simply can't. She leaves him breathless after all.

When after all is said and done, all Grace had to do was say "It's me" and the battlefield is back and Tommy is alive again. Love is a battlefield for Tommy. Grace had no one left only Tommy. Tommy had so many baggage but Grace was a priority. Grace warned her. She took his heart and never gave it back. Not because she doesn't want to but because he doesn't want to give it back nor give it to someone else. He allowed his heart to be taken away, broken and repaired only to be broken again. He doesn't care at all. If Only for her. Only with her. They will always find each other. Twin Flame, Tommy and Grace.

[sobasluuurp]

Hawks' reaction to seeing Twice again is so fascinatingly tragic. Because it shows just how deep the Hero Commission has their claws in his brain.

We know from his interactions with Nagant that he's got the heart of an idealist.  That he still has hope for a better future and sees the best in his disgraced and villainized predecessor.

He even uses the phrase "optimist to a fault" to describe himself. Which is such a strange thing for one of the most morally grey heroes in the series to say. So what does he mean by this and what can it tell us about his character, his circumstances, and human nature?

Like Nagant, Hawks was scooped up by the HC at a young age with promises of heroism and grandeur. Like Nagant, he was subjected to intense training and forced into the role of an assassin for the rest of his childhood with likely little to no contact to the outside world, which might've made him question the HC.

The HC saved Hawks. Saved him from a life of abuse, neglect, and homelessness. So he took his lessons in stride and played his role well. By the time he realized what was up, he was in far too deep to back out and he knew it. But he also knew that he and his mother were in an undeniably better place than they were before the HC stepped in. Knew that because of them, he had the opportunity to save scared little kids, just like Endeavor did for him.

(This is very different from Nagant, who looks to have been feared for her quirk as a child. In the scene when the HC picks her up, she has bandages on her arm as if to keep her quirk from activating. At the time, she probably saw the HC as a savior from her life as nothing more than her quirk -- only to find later that by following that's exactly the life she was binding herself to. Which explains why she defected and he didn't.)

So to Hawks, the HC is a sick but ultimately good force in society. Because he believes in heroes above all else. Endeavor, his savior, was a hero. His father, his abuser, was a villain. Even knowing now that both Endeavor and the HC are tainted, the lessons that idealizing both of them taught him remain.

Even when his heart is telling him to go a separate route. Even when he wishes he could save Twice, he leads first with a violent attack and then with a promise of rehabilitation. And in the end, he kills him anyway. Even now, confronted with the fact that killing a person he didn't want to kill didn't actually solve anything, he yells, "Kill them!! NOW!!" without second thought.

Hawks clings blindly to the sermons of his youth like a drowning man clinging to a branch. It didn't work the last time -- but it worked for a while! It meant no Sad Man's Parade in the first war! That's good, right? And these people who he wants to kill are bad. All For One even said so himself! No matter that he can't articulate what exactly "good" and "bad" are. The answer is just as obvious now as it was back when he was a kid! Any other nuance is just AFO trying to manipulate him.

So he sticks to what he's always known. Because it's the only way he's been taught to handle problem solving of this magnitude. Because this is the only way things have ever been, dammit. If things change now -- if the world didn't have to be this way -- then how could his idealist heart ever cope with the lives he's taken? How could he live with himself knowing he could've saved more lives and created a brighter future than the one he's currently living?

I hope that after the war Hawks is able to process his emotions, his past, and his actions. That he's able to move past it and endeavor to create a society where kids aren't taught to kill and problems are solve proactively with compassion first instead of feathers.

[jannwrites]

tv show ask meme : GUILLERMO DEL TORO’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES (2022). (2/2)

a selection of lines from the horror anthology cabinet of curiosities. modified slightly for rp purposes.

PICKMAN'S MODEL.

behind everything beautiful lies the dark.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what about the horror?

you can't rush perfection.

all i said is i don't see what the fuss is about.

i just fail to see what's so interesting about them.

i think the rats got to her.

these are...powerful. the darkness, the ugliness, the corruption.

we cannot let sympathy or altruism shield us from finding the truths of this world.

sometimes, when i'd wake in the night, i'd hear them through the floor.

what is happening to me?

i mean, you knew how important this was to me.

i don't even recognize you anymore.

what is art in this modern world without truth?

i think we need to give them some names. i think they deserve that.

someone's up awfully late this evening.

Ii's my business to catch the undertones of the soul.

if there are any ghosts round here, they're the tame ghosts of a salt marsh and a shallow cove.

i feel like you're disappearing from me.

the darkness has a way of catching me.

it must be shocking to see the state of things here.

do you feel it, [name]? the fear.

what you make--it crawls behind the eyes, it makes you crazy.

i know where fear lives.

DREAMS IN THE WITCH HOUSE.

don't you worry. i'll help you figure it out.

i promised you I'd protect you. you remember that, don't you?

who has the power to break it down?

i know the other side is real. i've seen it.

maybe it's time that we consider what else we can do with our lives.

the house has undeniable powers.

you care more about your dead sister than the living.

i've seen a forest. a forest that takes the dead inside.

wait, wait. you're telling me that you put an unknown chemical from an unknown gentleman into your body?

what we need to do is knock some sense into you.

i think you're desperate, [name].

i think you'd do anything, anything, to prove that what you've been fighting for is real.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry i couldn't save you when i had the chance.

if i hadn't been so afraid, i wouldn't have ended up here.

i couldn't think of anything else but seeing you again.

i have to investigate that house.

something stalked you here. it followed you through the door.

there's something in there trying to hurt us.

i feel the energy her anger left behind.

they stuck pins in her to see if she would bleed.

what demons have you been conjuring?

the dead want you now.

i hope you understand what you brought to this world.

what i've done cannot be undone!

i told you, you couldn't escape me.

i'll ride this body as long as it will last.

THE VIEWING.

you're like a legend.

hey, buddy, got a smoke?

i was intrigued for sure.

what kind of flowers are these?

well, it looks amazing and sounds amazing.

i am not gonna let temptation get the better of me.

it made its way across all that chaos, all of that potential destruction, longer than many human lives, to us here tonight.

i want to know what your stunning mind makes of it.

now i'm even more curious than ever before.

dead worlds seed new, living ones, time and time again.

she's proven what others refuse to admit about the nature of the universe and humanity.

it's hard to talk about it in words, you know?

your presence here has made this night so much brighter to me.

science tells us you can never truly know the future state of a particle.

perhaps control of the machinery is your real ambition.

i want something that doesn't exist.

there's a void inside of me, you, everyone. an endless abyss.

everyone has a black hole inside of 'em. what i want is for mine to stop eating everything up all the time.

you are really harshing my mellow, man.

yhe truth is much more complicated.

i can't tell you about an image you already have in your mind.

i saw his blood, i saw his tears.

oh, a test where i have to do cocaine? finally, a test i can pass.

it's not as if you've never done this before.

it made me nostalgic for things that never happened.

you brought me all the way out here to show me a fucking rock?

did you not hear anything we just said right now?

THE MURMURING.

birds carry our souls, our beliefs, our hopes.

but that word...that word also suggests a voice, a whisper, a prayer uttered in the dark when we think we have lost it all.

pop me in a room with a stack of books, and I'm happy.

who wouldn't want to lift off and fly away from the world like that sometimes?

if there is a god, he certainly is a very cruel one.

i'll check, you go back to bed.

what are you doing here in the gloom?

what are you reading?

they sound different. more melancholy.

you haven't had any sleep. you're very tired.

it might help if you tell me what i'm meant to be listening for.

you get that crease, just there, when you're trying to solve a mystery.

this is beautiful. but when i look at it, all i feel is sad.

she must have felt very trapped here.

is it so wrong to read a dead person's letters?

and how do you know they're dead?

god forbid i should feel something.

the minute some people step into a falling-down old house, they start seeing ghosts.

you haven't cried at all. not since...everything happened.

people say they see things here, but it's just a morbid fascination with other people's misery.

how am i ever supposed to help you if you never tell me anything?

why is it always about me? you went through this too, [name].

i feel lost. i feel...angry. i feel completely heartbroken.

i try and i try, and i just feel you slipping away.

take my hand. you won't be alone or cold anymore.

i've been so lost.

[excellentexecution]

Anonymous asked: Have you and your lady love Chyna talked about future plans like children? They would be gorgeous babies! Or do you feel selfish asking her to step away from the career she loves in order to grow a family with you?

Much had been discussed between them since dark lines were drawn in the sand. When loyalties were turned upside down, all but Chyna part of the plot to double-cross the Hitman when he was wounded, a soldier broken. There was nothing that could be hidden between the lovers. Whose side they each were on - either innocent or guilty depending upon who asked - where they stood as a couple. Bret couldn’t reconcile with not knowing for certain. He had to know, a clear picture painted by the hand of his beloved Joanie, what she wanted, needed. His own dreams shared, too, despite how heavy his heart felt within his chest, still beating but hurting so. If their love proved true, as was promised, though their armies in battle waged further war, they would outlast. Bret just believed it to be so. Couldn’t allow himself to think otherwise - it would’ve shattered what remained of his soul - even if the Hart Foundation saw their cruel defeat. A best friend no longer a face that could be pleasantly seen, a crazed angel in a heaven that sounded so comforting, Pillman’s ghost a haunting one, WCW wouldn’t finish off what DX missed, not of the Hitman and what remained. 

He would live despite them. For the honor of a fallen brother, for the woman who loved him, Bret would have his chance at happiness once again. All that he could ever dream of and more; Joanie beside him and just as at peace. 

“Yeah. We’ve talked about it. We don’t have anything set in stone, but we have talked about starting a family. It’s something that we both want. But, y’know, who the hell knows anymore if we’ll even get the chance to. With how things have been going on around here in the professional wrestling business, somebody else might just decide to stab us in the back and take that away, too.” Bret grumbled, brown eyes a mirror to the anger he felt. 

“More than ever, nothing’s certain. Joanie and I, we want kids. Least one. We’d like to get married at some point. We just don’t know when. Our careers, they keep us apart more than any damn faction war ever did. I don’t even care about all that DX-Hart Foundation bullshit anymore. I realize now just how much McMahon and his friends used it against me and Joanie, how they put us against each other for their own greed. How they hurt us both. I still think her best friends, the Heartbreak Kid and Triple H, are chickenshit, and I know neither one of them are man enough to face me, to get the beating that they deserve, but I love her more than anything. She’s the only person, besides my own family, who still has my back. I don’t care if she’s still with McMahon and his freakshow. That’s her business, and I’ll respect her for it. But, y’know, in regard to us, we’re not breaking up any time soon.”

Shaking his head, curls subtly bouncing, he disagreed. “No. I don’t think it’s selfish at all. Frankly, I think I have every damn right to be selfish about what I want. Everybody else has been acting pretty selfish recently. I’m just following along. Joanie knows me. She knows what I would like to have out of life, just as I know about her hopes. I’ve always been very honest with her. For me, the two things that I want are: to be married and to have kids. Nobody’s stepping away from anything at the moment. I want her to continue on with her journey. Whatever that may be, whether that be in wrestling or not. Joanie has every right to achieve her dreams. I won’t stop her from that. I know she wouldn’t want me to do the same, either. I don’t exactly have the option to, anyways. Hulkster and Bischoff and the nWo need me. But when the time is right, we’ll both leave our careers with our heads held high. Off to better and brighter things, a family and children and a happy home. Everything that we could ever want.”

___

[bllsbailey]

Michelle Obama Calls on the Ancestors and Brings the Sister Vibe to the DNC

Looks like a man, Talks like a man, Walks like a man, Gotta be a man.😁

Love her or hate her, one thing you can say about former First Lady Michelle Obama is that she is comfortable in her own skin. One cannot say the same for the candidate she is advocating for. Which is why it is a genius move on the part of the Obamas to bring their vibe of "Hopium" and manufactured optimism and apply it to Kamala Harris. This is exactly what Michelle Obama did in her speech on Night 2 of the Democrat National Convention.

Obama is a native daughter of Chicago, and the partner to the last successful Democrat president. She is popular and beloved among her people, and this was expressed in the rousing applause and cheers. Obama made gentle motions to get the audience to quiet down.

Thank you guys. Okay. We got a big night ahead. Thank you all so much. Thank you so much. Hello, Chicago!  Yeah... all right. Something... Something wonderfully magical is in the air, isn't it? Yeah... You know, we're feeling it here in this arena, but it's spreading all across this country we love. A familiar feeling that's been buried too deep for far too long. You know what I'm talking about! It's the contagious power of "Hope." The anticipation, the energy, the exhilaration of once again being on the cusp of a brighter day. The chance to vanquish the demons of fear, division, and hate that have consumed us and continue pursuing the unfinished promise of this great nation. The dream that our parents and grandparents fought and died and sacrificed for.  America, hope is making a comeback!

No doubt Obama and Hillary Clinton compared notes. Just like Clinton, Obama's speech invoked this deceptive aura of "change happening," and then evoked the wisdom and weight of the ancestors. In Obama's case, she brought in the heritage of her own lineage and the lessons her mother taught her. A mother who had recently passed away. 

But, to be honest, I am realizing that until recently I have mourned the dimming of that hope. And maybe you've experienced the same feelings. That deep pit in my stomach. A palpable sense of dread about the future. And for me, that mourning has also been mixed with my own personal grief. The last time I was here in my hometown was to memorialize my mother. The woman who showed me the meaning of hard work and humility and decency. The woman who set my moral compass high and showed me the power of my own voice. Folks, I still feel her loss so profoundly. I wasn't even sure if I would be steady enough to stand before you tonight. But my heart compelled me to be here because of the sense of duty I feel to honor her memory. 

The Democrats are exceptionally good at evoking all the feels. Who can argue with the memory of a beloved mother? Obama immediately built a bridge and took the goodwill people already had toward her and manipulated it. Obama used the lessons from her now dead mother to weave deceptive falsehoods not only about herself and Barack Obama, but more importantly, about Kamala Harris. This speech, and the entirety of Night 2, frankly, was all about the reimagination and reinvention of Kamala Harris.

This is what Democrats do, and they do it well. 

Obama continued,

And to remind us all not squander the sacrifices our elders made to give us a better future. You see, my mom in her steady, quiet way lived out that striving sense of hope every single day of her life. She believed that all children, all people have value. That anyone can succeed if given the opportunity. She and my father didn't aspire to be wealthy. In fact, they were suspicious of folks who took more than they needed. 

<insert *eyeroll* emoji> Anyone paying attention for the last 10-15 years or so knows that the Obamas have been the biggest conspicuous consumers. They almost put the Clintons to shame. Like that $11.75 million Martha's Vineyard home they purchased in 2020, the book deals, the Netflix deal, not to mention the taxpayer-funded presidential pension. Maybe Obama's mother was suspicious of her own daughter and son-in-law, because they are the poster children of taking more than what they needed.

They understood that it wasn't enough for their kids to thrive if everyone around us was drowning. So, my mother volunteered at the local school. She always looked out for the other kids on the block. She was glad to do the thankless, unglamorous work that for generations has strengthened the fabric of this nation. The belief that if you, "Do unto others," if you "love thy neighbor," if you work and scrape and sacrifice, it will pay off, if not for you, then maybe for your children or your grandchildren. 

Thanks to the damage done by the Obama-Biden administration years ago, and the Biden-Harris administration now, working, scraping, and sacrifice cannot even buy your groceries or pay your rent, let alone buy a house or pay for your children's or grandchildren's future. These people created the very policies that are destroying Americans’ ability to do this, yet they successfully drape themselves in a cloak of benevolence and good will, pretending that Republicans are the problem and more government is the solution.

You see, those values have been passed on through family farms and factory towns. Through tree-lined streets and crowded tenements. Through prayer groups, and national guard units and social studies classrooms. Those were the values my mother poured into me until her very last breath.

Here is the Democrat sleight-of-hand. Obama dovetailed the values instilled in her by her mother, and connected them to the values Kamala Harris' mother instilled in her. Look! Kamala is just like us!

It was dazzlingly brilliant, and nauseating all at once.  

Kamala Harris and I built our lives on those same foundational values. Even though our mothers grew up an ocean apart, they shared the same belief in the promise of this country.

This is the same woman who in 2008 said, "for the first time in my adult lifetime, I am really proud of my country — and not just because Barack has done well, but because I think people are hungry for change." Guess whatever the America she envisioned suddenly materialized after her husband was elected twice. The money to live the lush life certainly did. Our opportunity to live that same lush life? Well, sucks to be you.

That's why her mother moved here from India at 19. That's why she taught Kamala about justice. About the obligation to lift others up. About our responsibility to give more than we take. She'd often tell her daughter, "Don't sit around and complain about things. Do something." So, with that voice in her head, Kamala went out and she worked hard in school, graduating from an HBCU, earning her law degree at a state school. 

Howard University is considered an elite school in the HBCU, and the University of California Hastings School of Law is one of the Ivy League schools of the West. So, there is a ton of elitism in these choices with no meritocracy to be found. Hastings School of Law is also one of the schools where people don't actually learn a love or skill for the law; what they learn is judicial activism. Obama conveniently leaves this out, along with the fact that Berkeley and Montreal, Canada, the places where Kamala Harris was raised, are veritable hotbeds of communism.

And then she went on to work for the people, fighting to hold lawbreakers accountable, strengthening the rule of law. Fighting to get folks better wages, cheaper prescription drugs, a good education, decent healthcare, childcare, elder care. From a middle class household Kamala worked her way up to become Vice President of the United States of America! 

Willie Brown would like a word. There is so much left out of this that has been well documented in these pages. Sadly, the DNC audience is already enraptured by the fiction Obama has weaved, so they continue to swallow it hook, line, and sinker.

My girl, Kamala Harris, is more than ready for this moment. She is one of the most qualified people to ever seek the office of the presidency. And, she is one of the most dignified. A tribute to your mother, to my mother, and to your mother too. The embodiment of the stories we tell ourselves about this country. Her story is your story. It's my story. It's the story of the vast majority of Americans trying to live a better life. 

"The stories we tell ourselves about this country..." interesting turn of phrase. Not the stories of our country's founding and the people of all races, colors, creeds who made it possible, but a fiction that we weave until we can make it so. Like there are 57 genders, men can get pregnant, and a three-year-old can choose their own gender.

Look, Kamala knows, like we do that regardless of where you come from, what you look like, who you love, how you worship, or what's in your bank account, we all deserve the opportunity to build a decent life. All of our contributions deserve to be accepted and valued. Because no one has a monopoly on what it means to be an American. No one.

Ahh, therein lies the rub, and here is where the BS meter got turned to 11. After Obama said:

Kamala has shown her allegiance to this nation, not by spewing anger and bitterness. But by living a life of service. And always pushing the doors of opportunity open to others.

Now Jamal Trulove, Caramad Conley, and Cheree Peoples would like a word and the years that they lost after being wrongfully imprisoned under Kamala Harris' watch.

This is where the Obamas cannot help themselves. Ultimately it all becomes class grievance and hatred of the other wrapped in the pretty package of concern for the marginalized and care of the community. It's cheap, disingenuous, and manipulative.

And sadly, so many will continue to fall for it. Obama ended her speech with a return to the Halcyon Hopium days of Barack and Michelle.

Our fate is in our hands. In 77 Days, we have the power to turn our country from the fear, division, and smallness of the past. We have the power to marry our hope with our action. We have the power to pay forward the love, sweat, and sacrifice of our mothers, and fathers, and all those who came before us. We did it before ya'll, and we sure can do it again. Let us work like our lives depend on it. And let us keep moving our country forward, and go higher—yes, always higher than we've ever gone before as we elect the next president and vice president of the United States, Kamala Harris and Tim Walz!  

Michelle Obama introduced her husband Barack Obama to put the icing on that Hopium cake. 

[doppopoppo]

Bundle of Feelings

|| Uramichi Daily Headcanon ||

|| Warnings: married, minor cussing, angst, argument ||

|| Uramichi • F!Reader || 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*💙

Silence.

Everything was silent. 

The only thing that could be heard were the trees rustling outside. The curtains swaying softly and hitting the glass door. The fridge is running in the background. And the heavy breathing of two adults. Hearts pounding in their chests. Both afraid the other may hear their heart wanting to explode into a volcanic mess. 

Otherwise, silence. 

Y/N hasn’t seen her husband this mad since she last saw him interact with his father. Uramichi was red in the face, a scowl permanently settled atop his facial features. The way he was holding her hand, squeezing it tightly for mental support. She doesn’t even remember what they were even arguing about, as her father-in-law bickered about the most minuscule of things. 

Today, however, Uramichi’s anger was directed at her. She had thrown out all of his beer and cigarettes. His wife was tired of having to deal with a drunk husband more nights than she wanted. Only sleeping when he was wasted and slurring out cuss words. The heavy smell of tobacco following his trail, making her scrunch up her nose in disgust. Coughing whenever she walks by as he puffs out smoke. None of these were healthy coping mechanisms. She genuinely wanted to help her husband figure out and find better alternatives. Healthier options. One that wouldn’t harm his health. 

As a gymnast, shouldn’t he know better? 

Little did she know, her actions would cause Uramichi to have an outburst. The most the two fought over what to eat for dinner, junk food or protein filled. He began the argument by yelling at her. Then proceeded to belittle her, what can she know? How stupid can she be? 

She cried and tried to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen. “It's for your own good!” Y/N sniffled, “why can’t you see that?” She was hugging her own body. Unsure if it was for comfort or out of fear; maybe both? 

Uramichi sighed and rubbed his forehead, “I’m a grown man. I can make my own fucking choices for fucks sake, Y/N!” He’s never used such vulgar vocabularies with her before, this was a first. 

She didn’t want to change Uramichi, instead help diminish the fire inside of him. The one his father lit and kept throwing gasoline at it. 

“You won’t grow like this, dear. If you want a brighter future and to help your depression, we need to start fixing your bad habits.” She emphasized ‘we’. Because they were in this together. 

Uramichi had yet another strenuous day at work, all he wanted was to drink beer until he passed out. His wife’s cuddles no longer lulled him to sleep. Her sweet whispers felt meaningless. Only cigarettes could help him calm his mind down. Yet, she still tried to reason with him. Saying bullshit about seeing a therapist, hanging out with friends more often, or going outside that’s not the gym. 

“I know your fathers did horrible things to you. Such as forcing you into something you didn’t want to do. But you have to stop living in the past. Stop blaming your father for your future, which is your present now.” His wife tried to get close to him to bring him into a hug. 

Enraged at her words, “Oh my god, I could just hit you right now!” Uramichi threw the nearest dumbbell to him across the room. She heard a vase shatter, the one that was a hand me down from her mother. 

“What the hell do you know!? You’ve lived a nice and spoiled life, no inch of worries. No wonder you’re such a stubborn brat half the time.” His words were like a sharp knife cutting through her heart. 

She bent down over the broken pieces of vase. Shattered just like her heart. Uramichi’s eyes and mind were clouded in red rage. He hasn’t realized he broke an important item. One that was personally given to them by his mother-in-law. The woman who entrusted her daughters happiness to him. 

“Stop.” Y/N whispered. “Stop this right now!” She shouted at him. New, hot tears fell from Y/N’s eyes as she held into the broken vase pieces. She was in shock that her husband was willing to get physical over beers and cigarettes. This wasn’t what he promised to her on the day of their wedding vows. 

“You’re no different from your father, Uramichi.” She stood up. “An abuser raised another abuser. I can’t have this cycle continue.” Y/N went to put on her coat. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Uramichi was irritated that she had the audacity to leave in the middle of an argument. 

“Our child doesn’t need to witness what you witnessed your father do to you.” His wife glared at him. 

Those words flipped a switch inside Uramichi. Child? But they didn’t have any children. Then it clicked, his wife was pregnant. Was that the real reason she wanted him to stop? Why didn’t she say so in a better way then? It was too late to ask her these though, because she already left the apartment. 

The small apartment that used to be lovely thanks to his wife, now felt cold and lonely. The way it was before she came into his life. He took a look around the room and saw the mess he made. It might’ve been minor, but it left a big impact. Uramichi noticed the important vase he broke and ran out the door to catch up to his wife. Though she was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and went back inside and laid down on the couch. He screwed up big time. 

When morning came, it was raining but the smell of food tickled his senses and woke him up. He slowly got up from the couch and went towards the kitchen. He found his wife in her favorite apron cooking breakfast. 

“Morning.” She chirped. “I’m making American style sausage with scrambled eggs! Go sit at the table in the living room, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Questions ran through his head as he sat at the table on the floor. The broken vase pieces are gone, but so is the vase. Y/N’s eyes looked empty, betraying the big smile she displayed. He saw his wife bring the food to the table. He quickly got up and helped her. Likewise, he went to grab some additional items to set up the table for breakfast. Was last night a dream? No it couldn’t be. 

The question was itching in Uramichi’s throat, he had to ask. “Why?” 

Y/N looked up from her place, “why what?” 

“Why'd you come back? I even broke your mother’s case.” He thought she walked out for good. He threatened to hit her. He vowed to never be like his father, and that’s exactly who he became last night. His nightmare coming to reality. 

Y/N put her fork down, “Listen, we are married, way passed the dating phase. On our wedding day we vowed to love each other until death do’s us apart. It is both of our responsibilities to make sure the other is doing okay. Physically and mentally. You’re always there for me, dear. I want to be here for you this time, in what I think will help you. I’m sorry I threw out your beer and cigarettes without discussing it with you. I just want  to see you make healthier choices for yourself.” she put her hand over his. “I found out about the baby after I made the decision a while back. It’s another reason now why I would like for you to stop, but the main reason here is you. This is about you and us helping you.” she stared at his eyes. “I don’t wish to change you, but help you. As for the vase, you can buy me another one.” She winked and giggled. “As long as we’re fine, it’s all that matters.”

It was a big change she was asking him to make. But he can take small steps. That’s what the couple decided on. To limit his alcoholic intake to certain days of the week. Same with his smoking. He didn’t have to quit, but he was trying not to be dependent on it. He has the strongest support laying next to him at night. Holding him tightly. Uramichi was truly excited to know he’ll become a father! He’s nervous, but he knew he’s not alone. He thinks about what he can do to be a better father than his was.

Author’s Note:

He needs a hug. And a raise.

Remember, who your parents are don’t define you. If something happened in the past, don’t let it define you and who you are today. It might hold you back from growing. Just remember to take care of your mental health! 💜

Enjoy!

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Deception [Benedict Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: Deception Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 4.5k Published: 21 March 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Violet's constant search for a wife for her second eldest son has become too much for Benedict. The only escape he sees is to ask you to pretend to be courting each other. But how long will it work for with your feelings eating you up from the inside. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​​

Square filled: Fake dating

Bridgerton Masterlist | Masterlists

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Benedict Bridgerton was a very capable man. He had a tremendous amount of talent in capturing the real beauty of the world in his drawings. He was confident, but still genuinely kind and caring for his loved ones. He also had a rather playful side to him, a somewhat child-like behaviour, one that the ton would not have appreciated in their society, but Benedict had the privilege to show his real personality to those who loved him, ones that never judged him for who he was.

However, there was one person he felt utterly useless around. When it came to you, he turned into an adorable mess, a clumsy one at that, even stuttering on occasions. Should you have known the reason for his unusual behaviour, it would have brought a rather large smile to your face, but Benedict dared not to reveal his feelings for you.

For someone who has been friends for so long, you both seemed to have found it hard to show your true feelings for one another, as though both of you were clueless. For Benedict it seemed you only spared as much attention to him as a friend would, whilst you thought he was merely looking out for you as a brother figure.

You sat in the ballroom, watching as he grimaced at his mother, who might have slightly forced her second oldest child to dance with one of the many stunning unwed ladies. The one he was forced to dance with however seemed to enjoy Benedict's company. He didn't talk, nor did he look at the woman, still she shined brighter than a diamond in his arms, proud to be so close to such a fine man.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you watched as he held his hand firmly on her back, leading her around the dance floor, making her giggle by just being close to her. Your heart ached at the thought of ever having to give up on him, at the thought of seeing him with another, someone he would choose to love, ignoring to see your longing gazes forgotten on him. How could he have seen, he never dared to look when he felt your eyes on him, nor did you dared to look when he forgot his on you.

Standing up from your chair, you walked towards the terrace, needing fresh air, trying to clear your thoughts as the slightly cool, windy weather stroked your cheeks. You knew you shouldn't have thought of him romantically, but you would have been a fool not to notice the handsome and caring man he has grown into. Watching Lady Bridgerton trying to find a wife to her son hurt both emotionally and physically and you couldn't wait for the season to end, to leave the balls and play-pretend behind you, running away from the inevitable.

"Help me!" you heard his desperate voice, but before you could have turned around, you felt his hand lock around your wrist, gently, but in a haste, dragging you after himself.

"Benedict, what are you doing?" you asked in confusion, trying to understand his chaotic behaviour as he pulled you along, passing corridors by corridors in the gigantic mansion.

"My mother," he sighed as he stopped his steps, breathing heavily. "My mother is becoming—" you waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have been stuck in his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" you asked, frowning at his frozen state, as though he couldn't find the words and his thoughts overruled his actions. You watched his hunched back as he fought to get enough air in his lungs, his eyes focused on a certain point on the marble flooring, completely out of the present. "Benedict!" you called him again, this time firmly, attempting to catch his attention.

"I know it!" he exclaimed, making you jump slightly at his unexpected enthusiasm as a rather wide smile spread across his face.

"What do you know exactly?" you inquired.

"It might sound foolish at first and I do not blame you if you think I have lost my mind, but I need your help," he explained, leaving you even more curious.

"What would I need to help you with?" you asked furrowing at the man as if he has forgotten to include you in his grand idea.

"My mother has been adamant in finding me a wife and there is only so much I can do to prevent her from continuing her crusade. I know I shouldn't ask you such a thing, but I can't possibly think of anyone else who I trust enough," he continued in a secretive manner.

"Benedict, you must be clearer. I don't understand what you wish for me to do," you attempted to push him to finally reveal his idea.

"I need my mother to stop searching for a wife and the only way I can do that is if I already found someone I am interested in," he started. "That is where I would need your help, if you agreed. Should you agree to pretend I am courting you, my mother would surely stop this nonsense and leave me alone," for a mere second you felt overwhelmed by the hope of his interest in you, but that was only until your brain processed his words. "Pretend" being the main focus of your attention, shattering the small shimmering light of hope within you.

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself, attempting to hide your disappointment. "Surely you didn't think this through. Your mother isn't a fool, she would see through us immediately. You can't possibly think it's a good idea," you tried to reason with him, but instead of thinking it through again, he quickly shook his head.

"But it is. Think about it. You have said so yourself, you don't want to marry just yet and nor do I. It would be the perfect option for both of us, solving our issues," he added enthusiastically as if his idea was anything, but brilliant. He could clearly see the weary expression across your face as he stepped closer and reached for your hands, engulfing them in his large and warm palms. "We would only have to pretend for a short while, I promise," he tried to reassure you. Whilst you knew it was a foolish idea, the thought of being able to stay close to him even if for a short period of time, seemed to cloud your better judgement.

"For how long?" you asked looking up at him as a mischievous grin spread across his dashingly handsome face. One that you adored so much. "I wouldn't want to be a spinster, Benedict," you sighed heavily.

"I would never let that happen," he shook his head quickly, his previously playful smile long gone from his face. "Let us do it for a few weeks and we will see how my mother reacts. I'm sure if we work well together, you might even catch the attention of some very noble men too," he winked jokingly, trying to lift your dull mood.

You haven't had much time to contemplate, maybe a few seconds until you ran through all the options you have been provided with, which was basically none. You heaved a heavy sigh and shook your head, offering a sceptical look to Benedict. "Fine," you said, earning a surprised expression from him, your answer shocking him for a second, before he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, twirling you around happily.

"You are my saviour," he chuckled as he hinted a small kiss on your forehead, stopping himself as he realised what he had done. "I apologise, I didn't mean to—"

"I understand. You are simply happy I have agreed to such a scandalous idea," you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the happiness you felt. Even if for a short while, Benedict was to belong to you, and it meant more than you could have possibly expressed. You knew you couldn't have him forever but having him for a couple of weeks made you feel like the happiest person alive.

"I owe you! I didn't think you would agree," he grinned happily, a childish warmness radiating from his stance as though he had won a grand prize.

"I still don't understand why I did. Surely, I'm a fool," you added quickly with a silent chuckle.

"We both are," he replied as he started leading you back to the ballroom with your arm linked around his. His gaze focused on the way ahead, but your eyes were rather resting on his attractive features. He was a stunning man, and you were sure if he had turned to look at you, he would have seen the amount of love you were harbouring for him. But as many times before, no one of you has ever turned.

Weeks passed by and if anyone, Violet Bridgerton was the happiest person to see Benedict growing closer to the woman, you, she had envisioned beside her second eldest son. She has made it very clear that a wedding should soon be happening, wanting nothing but a little baby in her arms. You never wanted to crash her dreams but hearing her talking about a future between you and Benedict was beyond painful. The thought of you waking up beside Benedict, his arm resting across your waist, his neck hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin made your heart ache, knowing it was impossible.

You stood in Somerset House, one arm hooked around Benedict's as he watched the paintings, his face focused on one particular art with dark colours and shadings, slightly depressing as if the artist tried to capture a horrible emotion. Art was always something that you found beautiful, but never really understood. When Benedict talked about the meaning behind each piece with a childish happiness across his face, it made you feel content. Although you didn't understand much of what he was saying, the adorable expression he wore was worth each and every moment you spent listening to him.

Looking at his handsome features as they relaxed into a content smile, made you mirror his expression. You couldn't look at him and not smile. As though his mere presence made you feel at ease.

"I feel your eyes on me," he chuckled with a mischievous smile, knowing that you have indeed been staring at him for the longest time.

"I'm sorry," you quickly turned away, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up in embarrassment. "I couldn't stop watching you. You were really focused on that painting and it seemed as though you were here physically, but not mentally. You unintentionally make this face when you enjoy a painting," you smiled shyly.

"A face?" he furrowed, not knowing of his own reaction.

"Yes, as if you were completely captured by the painting. You have a certain content smile across your face and even forget to blink at times," you giggled, placing your hand in front of your mouth, remembering his facial expression.

"Don't hide your smile," he said as he reached for your wrist and gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling your hand away from your lips. "You are even more beautiful when you smile," for a second his words made you hope, as though he meant more than he let on. His eyes seemed as if they could see through you, reading each and every single thought that crossed your mind. For the shortest of time, it felt your feelings weren't as unrequited as you thought. However, you quickly had to remind yourself that your imagination was playing a painful game with you, one that would surely end in a heartbreak.

You quickly turned away, trying to shake those foolish thoughts away, before you decided to dwell on them any longer. Clearing your thoughts, you turned back to him with a phony smile across your face, biting your bottom lip to calm yourself. But his deep frown left you confused. "Are you okay?" you questioned as he tilted his head as if he was studying your face.

"You were biting your lips again," he replied. "You do that when you are nervous or feeling uncomfortable," he added, stunning you. Biting your lips was indeed a nervous habit of yours, one that you couldn't stop as it made you feel slightly at ease when you felt as if even your own thoughts betrayed you. You never thought Benedict even realised those irrelevant, minor details.

"I'm fine, Benedict," you tried to reassure him with a smile that you wore confidently but could not fool Benedict.

"Should you feel the need to talk, I'm here," he said, drawing tiny circles on the back of your arm that he was still securely holding onto, reassuring you that he was by your side whenever you were in need of him.

As happy as it made you, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as you thought about the heartbreak when he would finally want to end your foolish little game and find himself a wife that he could cherish forever, leaving you with the most horrible heartache one could cause.

You knew it was inevitable, you knew it would kill you, but you loved Benedict and you would have never forced him to stay beside you for any longer than he wanted to. You were ready to give him up, to be happy even if with someone else. The thought of letting him go hurt, but you weren't sure of your own strength either. Thinking about how long you could stay beside him pretending to be a mere friend left you with just as much pain, if not more. But you were ready to sacrifice your own happiness even if to be able to spend one more second with him.

Days passed by since your slightly awkward encounter in Somerset House. You have pretended to be a couple so in love that you couldn't possibly stay away from each other. Lady Whistledown didn't miss to write a paragraph or two about the two of you, already planning your wedding, one that you found slightly excessive, but dared not to mention to keep your act believable.

As much as you enjoyed the first few weeks of your play-pretend, it was hard to keep it up for long. You loved every minute you spent with Benedict, but the longer you were beside him, the more pain you felt. You wished to make him happy, to continue your act, but you also knew that it wasn't forever, and that tiny little thought suffocated you.

You sat on a bench in the park, right after promenading with Benedict. He joined his brothers whilst your maid brought you a glass of water to refresh yourself. You watched as Benedict laughed with his brothers, a wide, adorable and carefree smile sat across his face. Weeks ago, you would have smiled at his happiness, but then and there, sitting on the bench, watching his happy form, you felt miserable. Each time you looked at him, your stomach jumped nervously, your breath caught in your lungs as he touched your arm. These tiny little details meant nothing to him, but for you they meant the world. He couldn't have known the effects his advances left on you, he couldn't have predicted to hurt you unintentionally, but in the end, he unknowingly caused you pain.

Standing up from the bench, you started walking towards the Bridgerton brothers. Heaving a heavy sight, you lifted your arm and tapped Benedict's shoulder lightly, trying to catch his attention. He turned around with a wide smile, looking at you curiously. However, your face must have forgotten to oblige as his smile quickly disappeared and concern took over him.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he nodded to his brothers and reached for your hand, placing it on his arm, leading you away from his family.

"I must talk to you," you started, your voice unusually grim.

"Go ahead. You are worrying me," he added impatiently. Trying to collect your thoughts, you stopped, halting the man beside you whose worried eyes didn't seem to want to leave you for a mere second. "Talk to me," he attempted to reassure you.

"I am really sorry, but I can't possibly do this anymore," your words earned a confused frown from Benedict, before he finally understood what you meant. "I know I promised to help you and I wish I could have done it longer, but I honestly can't do this anymore," you added as you fought against your tears, trying to keep them in place for as long as you could. You couldn't let yourself cry in front of so many people, you couldn't let that happen. Benedict straightened himself in front of you, trying to hide your face from the curious eyes.

"I understand. I am sorry for forcing you to do this. I never thought it could be this hard on you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?" he asked, trying to contain himself from wrapping his arms around you, fidgeting with his hands beside his thighs.

"I know and you didn't hurt me, it's not your fault. It has just become rather difficult recently and I don't think I'm capable of pretending anymore," you tried to reassure him, making him feel less guilty. "I'm still your friend and I will always be your friend," you added with a phoney smile. Your own words were a lie. You didn't know how long you could pretend to be his friend, but you knew he needed to hear that, he needed not to blame himself. "I will be going home now, but surely I will see you later," you smiled up at him as you curtsied and nodded towards your maid, ready to head home, completely oblivious to the pained gaze he was watching your slowly disappearing form with.

Whilst you sat in your carriage, letting your tears finally run down your cheeks, leaning on your maid's shoulder, Benedict stood confused between Colin and Anthony, his eyes fixed on the ground, his thoughts filled with you only.

"Brother?" Colin called for him with concern in his eyes. It was unusual to see his brother unresponsive, without a playful smile. "Are you alright?" he asked, earning a frown from Benedict.

"I shouldn't have dragged her into this," he replied, but his words were directed more to himself than his brothers.

"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, seemingly more interested in their conversation.

"It was all a lie," Benedict replied, his gaze still fixed on the carefully cut grass.

"What was a lie?" the eldest Bridgerton brother asked again.

"All along we were pretending to be courting, so mother would stop trying to force me to marry," he scoffed, finally understanding the weight of his idea. "She said she can't do this anymore. That it was too painful to bear," he shook his head, guilt overcoming him.

"You really are a fool," Anthony replied with a sceptical look across his face, earning a confused look from both Colin and Benedict.

"How do you mean? Is it because we have been pretending?" Benedict questioned his brother. "I know it was foolish, but she agreed, I didn't know it would be particularly hard on her," he added with a deep frown.

"Brother, can you not see the way she looks at you? Always trying to make you feel happy, bringing a smile to your face even when she, herself is struggling to do so? Are you really that blind?" Anthony raised a questioning brow, as though he couldn't believe how oblivious his brother was towards your feelings.

"Should I understand?" he asked tilting his head innocently, searching for the right explanation. "We have been friends from a very young age, I am certain we have always tried to make each other smile in a difficult situation," he added, earning an eye roll from the eldest Bridgerton brother, ignoring his manners.

"When you said you were courting her, I thought you finally realised that you weren't the only one with feelings beyond friendship. However, after hearing about this foolish idea of yours, forcing a lady to pretend to love you, when in fact she has feelings for you is beyond stupid, brother, and I'm quite disappointed in you for not realising it yourself," he shook his head disapprovingly.

"Are you telling me she has feelings for me?" Benedict asked in disbelief, his brother's words lighting a weak hope within him.

"Indeed, took you long enough to understand," he scoffed.

"I have to talk to her," Benedict added quickly, heading towards the carriages in haste, carefully planning all he needed to tell you.

The ride didn't take long, 20 minutes at most, before he stood in front of your house, his hands shaking slightly, nervousness running through his whole being. Knocking on the door, a maid opened it for him, asking him to wait to announce his arrival to you.

You laid on your bed, cheeks swollen from crying, bottom lip red as a result of the constant biting of your nervous state. A knock on your door brought you out of your misery as your maid walked into the room.

"Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you," she said with a saddened tone, knowing of the arrangement between the two of you. Your eyes widened in surprise, you weren't ready to see him, especially not in your current, heartbroken state. "Would you like me to ask him to leave?" she questioned, looking at the panicked expression across your face.

"No, it's fine. Please take him to the drawing room," you instructed her and headed to the bathroom to make yourself presentable. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face was slightly swollen, and your clothes were beyond wrinkled. Attempting to straighten your dress, you stroked the material over and over again, but it didn't seem to work, nor did the cold water you washed your face with to remove the evidence of your miserable state. At last, you gave up and walked to the drawing room, knowing you wouldn't be able to do anything else with your appearance.

"We have just parted, Benedict," you said to the man as you stepped inside the room and took a seat across the sofa he occupied.

"I needed to see you," he replied, standing up from his place and taking a seat beside you. "I—, I talked to my brothers after you left," he started, stammering over his words, something he only did in his nervous state. "I am a fool and there is no excuse for that. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must have been for you to pretend—"

"I have told you already, I am completely fine," you tried to reassure him with a faux smile, one that this time Benedict didn't believe to be genuine.

"But are you?" he asked, earning a confused frown from you. "Do you know why I thought this foolish idea to be brilliant in the first place?" he raised a questioning brow, but instead of replying you shook your head. "I wanted to be closer to you. I merely thought it would be my chance to spend more time with you. Surely, I had no intention to marry anyone, and I wished my mother to stop, but my primary concern was you. I wanted to be near you at all times, but I couldn't possibly tell you how I felt, knowing you would only reject me," you couldn't control the surprise sitting across your face, your lips parted in shock, his words seemingly part of your most precious dreams. It seemed surreal.

"You are confusing me, Benedict," you spoke up, trying not to hope once again to then fall painfully.

"I'm saying I love you. I have loved you for so long, I can't remember when it started. I never imagined my feelings could be returned and I turned to foolish ideas to be beside you. I needed my brothers to open my eyes and scold me for being childish, for making me hope that I might have your heart even if only half as much as you have mine," he reached for you hand, gently squeezing it in his hold, reassuring you that he meant every single word of his.

"I love you," you blurted out, astonished by his speech, your own words surprising you.

"You do?" he asked, afraid to believe the words he has longed to hear from you.

"I do," you nodded, this time with more confidence, earning a wholehearted smile from Benedict as he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around you, embracing you in his arms.

"I made you cry, didn't I?" he asked as he pulled away slightly, enough for him to be able to look in your eyes as he placed his hands on your cheeks.

"It wasn't you. I was emotional, because I wasn't sure how long I would be able to stay beside you as a friend before it became too much to handle," you giggled awkwardly, feeling as if you have said too much.

"It was still my fault. I didn't consider your feelings," he shook his head, disapproving of his own actions. The tip of his thumb gently brushed across your bottom lip, leaving you with a ticklish feeling. "Have you been biting your lips again?" he asked as his eyes focused on your mouth. His attentiveness, his attention to detail and his closeness made you swallow nervously.

"I might have," you whispered, not daring to raise your voice any louder. Feeling his breath on your lips, the proximity between your faces, his warm palms on your cheeks made you feel intoxicated.

"You shouldn't do that. From now on talk to me when something bothers you," he spoke in a low tone, his voice soothing, making you feel safe. "You are doing it again," he chuckled, his eyes completely captured by the way your teeth bit on your lip, but this time it wasn't nervousness, but excitement. His closeness affected every tiny part of your body. "It really makes me want to kiss you," he breathed, completely mesmerised by your lips, as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you. You felt your heart beating at a dangerous pace, almost as if threatening to escape your chest and you could swear Benedict heard it just as well.

"Hmm," you hummed in a reply, incapable of creating a coherent sentence, before closing the gap between the two of you, a certain confidence rush taking over your actions. Instead of the surprised reaction you expected from Benedict, a playful chuckle left his lungs.

"Impatient, it seems," he added, before he returned your kiss, pulling you closer to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body in his embrace. He has imagined over and over again how it could feel to kiss you, to hold you, but none of those made-up scenarios could ever compete against the reality and the content it filled him with. "I wish to genuinely court you this time," he added as he pulled away from you.

"I very much hope so," you giggled happily, earning a playful eye roll from Benedict, before he captured your lips once again, wrapping his arms around you securely.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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[celsidebottom]

“Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

Zev/warden?

“What happened with Taliesen… Are you okay?”

Nelka already knew the answer to that. How could Zevran possibly be okay? They’d just killed someone he cared about and made sure that he could never return to the Crows.

However, she didn’t know how else to check in on him but to ask that vague question and hold his arm a little bit tighter in their tent. Neither of them could sleep, and the silence was suffocating.

“No,” Zevran admitted. “But also in a way… yes? I feel as though a weight has lifted off me. It will never be entirely gone, of course; I can’t just ignore the things I’ve done. I do wish that things might have ended differently between myself and Taliesen, but I don’t know if such an ending would be possible for us.”

“I know what it’s like for someone you cared about to turn on you,” Nelka said, thinking about Leske and how he sided against her in Dust Town, even after everything they’d been through. “It’s hard to say goodbye.”

“It’s easier when there’s a new start waiting for you, though.”

Nelka smiled and rolled into him. “That’s true.” She paused. “I don’t know what happens after all this, but… I don’t want us to say goodbye. Any kind of goodbye, you know, whether it’s one with knives or just one with words.”

With utmost seriousness, he said, “Tell me to stay and I will be here as long as you’ll have me.”

“Stay,” Nelka breathed. “Stay with me.”

He leaned forward to kiss her, cupping her cheek and pulling her into him.

“Mi amor,” he whispered against her skin. “You made me a better man. And to think that I might have a future…? It is a fantasy I never even dared to dream of.”

“We were a couple of criminal misfits,” Nelka laughed. “And now look at us?”

“Still misfits, certainly,” Zevran teased. “But at least we’re not alone now.”

They kissed again, then pressed their foreheads together and breathed the other in.

“To think, I once wanted to die by your hand. Now, I hope to die by your side.”

“Hopefully not for a long time, right?” Nelka asked.

“Not for a long, long time,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I never used to dream of a life beyond the Crows, beyond combat and assassination. Now… I dream of so many futures with you. Forgive me,” he added, “I know I’m not one for such emotional chatter. The events of the day must have gotten to me.”

“Zevran… you’re fine. More than fine. I…” She’d never said those words to anyone but her sister. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Nelka wondered if those words had been lingering on Zevran’s tongue as readily as they had been on hers, waiting for so long, hidden behind broken hearts and jaded minds. But wrapped up together, the pain of their pasts was forgotten, abandoned in the arms of their lover and the promise of a future that was so much brighter than any joy they’d felt before.

[nanagoswife]

Noticing You, Noticing Me

Chapter Six

Summary: Reader and Obi-Wan begin the writing of the letters. Throughout the passing months, there's significant moments that neither of them forget...

W/C: 3.3k

Warnings: angst, mention of passed away parent

- - -

The first letter from Obi-Wan came in two days after he had left. At the time, you were walking with Anakin as he was in between meetings. He may have been the one who’d prefer managing the troops, but he could more than hold his own when it came to politics.

Anakin gave you a teasing smirk as the messenger handed you the letter. “Is it from your boyfriend?” he said while playfully nudging his shoulder into yours.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep yourself from smiling.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my… friend.”

Your brother looked at you disbelievingly. “I don’t think you can call someone just a ‘friend’ when you two nearly kissed. Twice.”

Shock filled you. Your eyes widened as you whipped your head to look at him.

“Oh yes. Did you really think Varlo would keep that a secret? Or Padmé?”

Embarrassment filled you. You weren’t surprised about Padmé. Her and Anakin were a couple. What confused you was Varlo telling Anakin about the night at the ball. He seemed like he didn’t care, so you thought he would keep quiet.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered.

It caused Anakin to laugh. “It’s fine, sis. I’m happy for you. Prince Kenobi is a good man. Besides, mom and dad seem to even like him.”

You felt your embarrassment change to happiness. “Really?”

“Really,” he said with a soft smile. “I’ll let you get to reading. I’m due for an appointment with Sir Fisto.”

The two of you said your goodbyes before you made your way to the gardens. You once thought that your spot on the bench under your favourite tree was special before, but not like now. Now it was where you and Obi-Wan had spent most of your time together. It was where he held your hand as he comforted you.

When you sat down, you wasted no time. As you read the first words, you smiled.

-

My darling,

I hope that your world at home has felt just that little bit brighter since those days as it has for me. Commander Cody has noticed a change in me, and I am proud to say I know why.

Despite this, I miss you as every second passes. As I promised, I will find a way to visit you again. The moment I know of a day, I will write you immediately to tell you. Who knows? Maybe I’ll know when I’ll be able to see you next in the next few weeks.

Anyways, my dear, I hope you are well and I wait in anticipation to see your first letter. The thought of hearing your thoughts again excites me. Especially if you have any stories from your villages left. I would be more than delighted to hear about the little younglings that vie for your attention.

May this find you well and that you haven’t forgotten me in these days. It would be truly heartbreaking if it were so.

Yours,

Obi-Wan Kenobi

-

You couldn’t get to your room fast enough. It was the only place that you could think of that had a quill and ink and, most of all, privacy. Elation filled you with each quick step you took.

The letter may not have been long, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he missed you just as you missed him. Not only that, but he wants to hear more stories. Perhaps you’ll send him a few. Or would that be too much?

In the end, it didn’t matter. If you knew him, he wouldn’t mind. He’d probably say he’d rather more than less.

So, you took your quill in hand for your reply. Starting off, after saying that you missed him as well and that you felt the same, about his remark about children being ‘younglings’. It was the most adorable thing in the world to you. You only wished that he had called them that when he was still here.

-

And that’s how it began. The two of you wrote each other every day. His letters would always arrive early in the day, and you would write a response just as quickly. This went on for five months.

Some were simply just the two of you conversing back and forth. Others… Well, others were most purely love letters. They were always mainly from Obi-Wan’s end. His way with words was a lot more elegant than yours. Yet he would always let you know that your insecurities were unfounded.

It was always sweet when he made sure that you weren’t being stupid or that you were doing something wrong. Most of all, he helped you through a new transition.

As the days went on, more and more people started paying attention to you. After all of these years, people were finally seeing the work you did for your kingdom. Hardly anyone was using you as a gateway to your brothers. They were truly coming to you!

When you had told Obi-Wan, he was so proud of you. He said how much you deserved the recognition. You had asked if it was his doing but he swore it wasn’t. He may have told a few people about you but he didn’t push them to learn more about what you do.

Padmé, other than Obi-Wan of course, was your biggest supporter. She would rave about how popular you were getting.

Yes, you may be getting popular. Some would say even more than your brothers. Though, a small part of you wished that you could go back to the way it was before. You wanted to go back to the days that only Obi-Wan noticed you.

You had confided in him one day about it. He had written in response: My darling, I understand how you feel. Unfortunately things like this will change. I do apologize if it were due to me, but just think. Maybe this will benefit you in the future. Just think, if you needed assistance in aiding a village or town, you have people who know what you do that would want to help. I hope that you realize how good this could be later on just as I do. If not, then there may be a way to get it closer to how it used to be. Either way, my dear, I hope this makes you feel better.

In truth, it had made you feel better. It made you look at the true benefits your newfound popularity had. Not only that, but it didn’t affect your life as much as you had thought at first. It was just new.

Now, one thing that happened a few times were days that you missed him. Those days it took over your thoughts to the point where you hardly left your room. It usually lasted for a few days and Obi-Wan was always there to talk you through it.

There was one string of days where both of you were in the same slump. Those were some of the deepest conversations you had ever had with each other. Whether it was saying how much the two of you cared for the other, or if you were telling each other about your darkest thoughts.

Obi-Wan had sent this one specific detail that had you simultaneously wishing you were with him and at least glad that he felt he could also confide in you. It was: Sometimes I think of my mother during days like this. I think of how I wish she were still here, to hear her say how happy she is that I found you. I do really believe that she would’ve loved you. And it’s days like this that I miss her the most. It’s days like this where I miss you. Days that I long for your gentle touch against my cheek. Wishing that I could hold you in my arms as we finally have the kiss that never happened. Honestly, darling, I exceedingly wish to be with you during these days and I wish I have found the time to come to you. But this time will still unfortunately have to wait to my dismay.

Forever yours,

Obi

Despite how strongly you agreed with Obi-Wan in that letter, you couldn’t help but feel a warm, bubbly sensation in his signature. You had started calling him Obi in your letters fairly early on. Other than that, him saying forever yours was something he had only recently started saying at the time. It made you smile each and every time.

For him to address himself by your nickname, though, made your heart flutter.

When you had written back, you consoled him when it came to his mother. From what you have told me, she sounds like an amazing woman. I would’ve loved her right back if we had the privilege to meet. As for being in your arms, I also deeply wish to be back there. Each ghosting touch and the feel of your hand in mine makes me yearn to feel it again. I yearn to fully feel the press of your lips to mine rather than a light graze or pressed against my knuckles. I will look forward to the day we meet again.

Your darling,

Y/N

Of those days, they weren’t the deepest of them all, but they were up there. After that, the dark spell of days was shared only ever briefly. Mainly switching between the both of you, each comforting the other as the longing to see the other grew with each passing day.

One day, he had written something that had you puzzled, yet feeling excited. The line was: We will see each other sooner than you know, my dear.

“Varlo, may I ask you something?”

He gave you a mischievous smirk, “I think that just was one.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you know if anyone is scheduled to visit in the next week?”

Varlo looked off in the distance as he thought. “Other than the people that now only want to talk to you, no. Not that I know of. Why?”

“No reason,” you said, looking back down at the letter. Could he have possibly found a time where he could come back? It would make sense as he didn’t truly tell you that. He probably wanted to make sure he actually could before telling you.

Either way, you wrote your normal reply. Adding in details about how this amazing festival in Naboo was happening in a few days. It was called the Festival of Light and it was something you had always attended. Whether it was because Padmé wanted you there or if you went on your own, it didn’t matter. Other than Anakin, you were usually the only one in your family to go.

You wished that Obi-Wan could see it. It was such a beautiful festival. Your favourite part was the first night where lanterns would be released in the sky. They all floated until they looked like stars themselves, lifting everyone’s dreams in hopes that they will be met.

It was wonderful. What a sight it was to see all of those lanterns become stars. You always had thought that Padmé’s father was a genius to start this tradition. The tradition was well received the minute it was introduced. Although it started before you were born, you had known it all your life. You attended it all your life. Now you wish you could attend it with the one you wished to be with all your life.

That would just have to wait.

-

“I thought you were supposed to be meeting with General Yoda?” you asked Anakin who had his arm linked with Padmé’s. She giggled as Anakin pretended to ponder what you said.

“I was supposed to. A more important matter came up though,” he said with a playful tone. His smirk was a mischievous one as he caught a glance at your friend.

Confusion filled you. What could be more important than a meeting with the high general? With the way he looked at Padmé, though, you assumed that may be the reason. Everyone knew he would drop everything for her.

Anakin looked over at you and you must not have been hiding your confusion as well as you thought you were. To the best of his ability, he nudged his elbow into your arm.

“What? Can I not just spend time with my little sis and my beautiful wife-to-be?”

You rolled your eyes as Padmé spoke, “You mean even more time than you do already?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was true. He was almost always with one of you or Varlo. If you tried to separate Anakin from the ones he loved, or at least tolerated, he would have a fit. He craved attention and companionship and you didn’t blame him. It was something that you never knew you needed until you met Obi-Wan.

“Ok, one question you can’t try and dodge, where are we going?”

“Well, you see, sis, that is another question I will dodge. You know why?” You shook your head. He leaned closer whispering, “It doesn’t matter.”

You groaned, slapping your hand against your forehead causing your friend to break into a fit of laughter. All you wanted to know was what he had planned. There had to be something if he no longer was meeting with General Yoda. No one just stood up the man either. Yoda may be a wise and calm man, but he could easily take you down any day. Whether that be physically or verbally.

“Why do you so badly want to know anyways?” Anakin asked. This time sounding genuinely interested.

“No one just reschedules with General Yoda. Especially not you so I’m curious as to the change of plans that involves both Padmé and I.”

Anakin actually seemed shocked by what you said. Almost as if he actually hadn’t thought of an answer to a statement like that. So, he was silent for a few moments. That was, before he finally came up with, “You’ll see.”

Now you were more confused than ever. Was he setting up something with Varlo? Was this all going to be a trick? It wouldn’t be the first and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Or maybe it was a new person that wanted to meet you.

Thanks to Obi-Wan’s words, you had grown used to constant meetings with people who wanted to ask you about what you do. There were some who asked what was going on between you and Obi-Wan, but those questions usually didn’t last.

You knew there were rumours that people thought the two of you were an item, which was true, but some were disconcerting. Some had thought that he was taking advantage of you for power gain. Others had painted your family in a dark light, saying that they were using you as a way to gain more allies rather than caring about you.

Thankfully, those rumours were rather rare to come across. Plus, Obi-Wan had always told you how they didn’t matter. The two of you found each other, and chose each other on your own. Not because of any outside influence or any ulterior motives.

Your thoughts were racing, unable to settle on one possible answer to what Anakin had planned. You would’ve said Padmé hadn’t known either, if it weren’t for her ultimate calmness. If she were as confused as you, she wouldn’t be as composed or… excited as she seemed to be.

Those racing thoughts were put on hold as your journey led you to the gardens. The sights never failed to put your mind at ease. Now was no exception.

Usually you would come here to read Obi-Wan’s letters. It was free of crowds, leaving you in privacy as you looked over the beautiful handwriting. For a time, you had even kept a satchel that held all of his letters in the garden. That didn’t last long as one day Varlo found them.

In his usual annoying ways, you had to fight to get them back. He teased you, positioning them out of reach until he was done with his entertainment. It was something he did often, lately. Teasing you or playing jokes that would often go too far. A small part of you wondered if it were because he was slowly taking up the role you once held. You hated to see that people no longer seemed interested in Varlo’s political accomplishments. Yet, he didn’t need to take it out on you.

So, the letters had found a different place. A place where Varlo couldn’t find them and hide them and a place that should’ve seemed like a no brainer from the start. Your bedroom.

Even so, the garden was where you would read them. Sometimes you would even write your letters on that bench under the tree.

As the three of you walked through, you listened to the conversation your brother and friend were having. They really were a cute couple, no matter how much you teased them. Listening to them talk only proved this.

The closer you got to the tree, the more you saw excitement grow in both of them even as they seemed to be normally conversing. Now you knew something was up. What kind of plan could Anakin come up with that got them so excited, but never tell you? You thought you were used to being a third wheel before, but this was amplified.

You let it go. It’s not like this was the first time something similar has happened. With that being said, you took a slight lead ahead of the two. A small part of you was hoping that, as soon as you got to the tree bench, you could stay there. That way you could feel close to Obi-Wan although you weren’t.

Continuing on your path, you noticed that Anakin and Padmé were drawing further and further back. Were you walking that quickly, or did they slow down without you realizing. With all of that considered, you just shrugged and kept going. If they wanted to catch up they would tell you.

There was one last corner to turn before you would finally be able to seek some peace.

When you turned the corner, you froze. Were you seeing right? Was this even possible? You turned to look at the other two, but they weren’t there. Was this what they were so excited about? It had to be. Why else would they now have up and disappeared right as you arrive here.

Obi-Wan stood from the bench, facing you with a smile that you could tell he was trying to contain. He still looked just as handsome as the day he had left. The outfit he was wearing was similar to the one he wore at the ball, but much more toned down and casual. Well, casual for royalty anyways.

Tears were building as you smiled bigger than you ever thought you could.

“Obi!” you exclaimed as you could no longer hold back. You ran to him, crashing into his outstretched arms. The feeling of them coming around your back and pulling you in close was enough to make you start sobbing.

“Hello there, darling,” he whispered into your hair. Gently he rubbed your back as he slowly swayed from side to side, refusing to let you go. Even if he did, you wouldn’t.

As you buried your face into his chest you smelled the hint of cinnamon that was mixed with just him.

“I missed you,” you mutter into his chest.

“I missed you too. With all of my being,” he said, making your heart flutter. There were days you never thought you would hear his beautiful voice ever again. You no longer had to worry about that. He was here, holding you as tightly as you were him.

- - -

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @mackycat11 @generousrunawaydonut @imabeautifulbutterfly @animalgirl05 @blondekel77 @cosmicsierra @badbatch-simp24

[imthepunchlord]

The Draw of Magic

When Nooroo sent out the beacon of his misuse, all kwamis near felt it and rushed to the location to try and see what they can do to help save him. As complex as the kwami community can be, it was Law that when one was in a dire situation, all were to help. 

And help Luuna and Plagg would, soon. 

The time was now to pick their humans. And who they picked would see the two to Paris, just in time to assist Nooroo and see to his freedom. 

But it wasn’t going to be as easy as they expected. 

“It has been decades since I’ve been so torn!” Luuna declared dramatically, her bright blue eyes flickering between two spots. Near her, Plagg grunted, sharing a similar issue, though not as vocal about it. They were perched upon a gargoyle, their gazes locked upon two promising humans that had great potential for magic, just what these two would need for their avatars. 

The issue was who should go to who? 

It has been so long since they’ve found a pair that evened each other so well in terms of magic. 

Majority of the time, it was easy to know who should have what. Who would be better to have black magic and who should have white magic. 

There was a girl with her family, chatting away merrily. She shown like a flame, full of goodness and warmth and light. Both could see that she was a creative sort, full of promise and potential. But there was so little darkness to her, it was clear that she would have little for herself. 

Across from her was a boy with his own family, as dark as a void, full of cunning, anger, hurt, and spite. There was love in him, but it was closed, offered only to a few. There was promise for much destruction and chaos in his wake. They could see that he would give much to a few, but take from many more. 

Luuna let out a loud groan, starting to babble, “Do we go with what matches and have immediate results? Or do we go with opposites? Achieve balance but see struggle first?” She started to hop around her counterpart, restless in her torn musing. 

Plagg ignored her, eyes on the duo, ears twisting as he considered them. He voiced, “Maybe we consult the cheese?” 

She skidded to a stop, making a face. “No!” she sharply protested. “The last time we enchanted cheese to tell the future, it exploded! That hotel room was covered in cheese for a week!”

“Personally, I didn’t see much problem to that,” Plagg said, humming in delight as he recalled the memory fondly. 

Luuna shook her head, insisting, “No, no, we should... let the carrot decide!” 

It’s was Plagg’s turn to make a face. “Spin the carrot always goes your way!” 

“That’s because I go with the natural flow of the world, and not take matters into my own paws, cheater.”

“I batted the carrot one time.” 

“Yeah, and all of Camelot was gone, because you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive Merlin.” 

“Well I’m sorry I didn’t want to forgive an old man who wanted to bottle us up like a djinn.” 

The Cat and the Rabbit sat still for a moment, having a tense stare off between the two. After a moment, they both turned back to the two promising magic users, both of which uniquely called to both in different ways. 

Luuna felt drawn to the girl for she was of light and warmth and promised her much good would be done through her. But the boy called to her in need of light and guidance, to help him find balance. 

Plagg felt drawn to the boy for the darkness and promise of absolute bedlam with him, the pure chaos they’d have together. Yet the girl had so much light, too much of a selfless giver, she had no concept of taking. 

Oh to go with what matches, or to offer the struggle of growth and succeeding balance? 

Luuna broke the silence first. “Ok. Well, I would go with the flow of things. I would aim and suggest that we go where we match most.”

“Very helpful,” Plagg said dryly. 

Both pulled them in so naturally. Light desired to be with light to make is brighter, and shadows to shadows to make it darker. Yet light also wanted to go to shadows to chase them, and shadows wanted to go to light to dim it. These two really could go either way. 

“Which is why you should decide.” 

Plagg turned to Luuna in slight surprise. 

“If you can’t decide,” Luuna warned, “then we’ll resort to the carrot.” 

Plagg turned back to the two, stretching out his senses, giving one last evaluation before he decided for them both. He picked up on concerns and fears from both. Both afraid of this coming year.

The girl afraid of an angry golden flame, one that sought to gluttonously consume everything. 

The boy for his father, who Plagg felt then felt weaker. A life soon to go out. 

Plagg withdrew when both of them perked and looked towards them, him and Luuna ducking down to secure that they won’t be seen. 

“Pushing the limit a little,” Luuna noted. 

“Had to be sure if I’m going to pick for us,” Plagg said. 

“And?” Luuna prompted. 

“I think you should go to that kid,” Plagg said, nodding to the boy. “For his near future, I think you’ll be better for him than me.” He’s not the best with that emotional stuff. And sure, the girl was going to be more emotional than the boy, what was coming was some heavy stuff that Plagg knows that he’s not the best for. His answer would be necromancy but Tikki would seek him out if he helped this kid with that. 

“Are you certain?” she asked, floating up, “I do sense that the girl will return to Paris sooner.” 

“Yeah it’ll be fine. I can have her use Purgatory. Paris can deal with some damage.” 

Luuna frowned at that. She hoped Tikki at least will be there as the boy feels like he won’t be there as soon as the girl. But she had bid Plagg to decide. No matter the choice, she can feel that things will play out as they should. Whether they turn towards the sun or moon, bare a cloak of white or black, and walked a path of light or shadow; it will head towards the same destination. Of that, Luuna is certain. 

Plagg took initiative and darted to the girl’s side. 

Luuna hesitated before she moved, giving the boy one last look over, just to be sure and certain of this. Cats could afford to be reckless, they had power to back that confidence. Rabbits though were creatures of prey, that only had their wit and speed to secure their life. Certainty was far more preferred than risk. 

The boy once more looked towards her, frowning in confusion at the feeling of being watched. Luuna though was out of sight when his gaze settled on the gargoyle. He didn’t see there, he didn’t see her when she came up near his bag, picking up at what Plagg hinted at. 

Feeling more certain, she burrowed into his bag. 

By the time he arrived in Paris, he’d be a sound White Rabbit. 

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”

[junova]

.˚✦ ๋࣭ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

my universe

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

notes: this one has been in my drafts....forever. never really liked it too much but fuck it. maybe i can redeem it in a part 2??? this is more of a prologue if anything. idk we'll see. happy reading!

pairing: modern!steve rogers x reader, former!bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x natasha romanoff

concept: bucky was all you'd ever cared about, wanting him more than anyone. until he comes along, showing what it actually means to love someone. welcome to heaven in hiding.

warnings: 18+, sexual content, jealous!reader, bucky being a dick, soft!steve, heavy angst, steve is a funny lil shit at the end

wc: 3.9k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt unbearable to be here. Watching how fondly she still looked at him, after all this time, not missing a beat. It was suffocating, surrounding you by a sea of water and having no other option than to drown. Greedily, his love swallowing you up in your entirety.

He did really try to dodge her looks of longing but still, even now he felt the pull to her. It didn’t really matter how long they were absent from each others’ lives.

As you sat next to him, you could feel him slipping from your grasp. Far beyond your control, way out of your depth, he was falling. Deep down, you couldn’t really blame him. The pictures you’d seen of her did no justice, she was truly a vision. Much brighter than you would ever glow and it made you wonder if what he spoke just a few hours ago still held meaning.

Not to mention, she seemed to be as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Making you grow even more envious of her.

Sure, she had broken his heart but it wasn’t beyond forgiveness. She had simply put herself before the relationship and if you had been in her shoes you could imagine yourself doing the same. All she wanted was a better future for herself, at least it’s what he had told you.

Now sitting here you couldn’t stop thinking about how she looked at him with admiration and love laced in her eyes. Truly, if she still wanted him in her arms there was nothing stopping her.

Surely, not you. You two seemed to live on two different planes of beauty and hers was the kind you dream of having but only have a very little probability of obtaining. With her ruby hair and glossy lips, tempting nearly everyone around her to the way she carried herself and spoke to you like you were the only person she was invested in.

It wasn’t difficult to see why he spoke of her so much. You would, too.

You tried to enjoy the wonderfully prepared meal Pepper and Tony had made, well mainly Pepper. It was delicious, but your senses had gone bitter and it had nothing to do with the food.

You weren’t sure when you started to drift off, maybe it was when Bucky began looking at Natasha like she hung each and every constellation in the sky. Or maybe it’s when you heard her melodic laugh when Bucky delivered the punchline.

It was like Steve, Wanda, and Thor didn’t exist. The lovely couple in their own little bubble, speaking in a language only the two of them understood. Utterly and completely unaware of any and all of their surroundings.

“You okay?” Steve questioned, placing his hand on top of your hand, giving it a small squeeze. Discreetly and under the table away from prying eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just need some air.” You weren’t sure what could remove the nothingness inside of you, but maybe some space would provide some comfort.

You felt like your heart had been ripped out right in front of you, again. He said he wouldn’t do it again, that he wanted to be with you, but all she had to do was come to town and he’d been chasing her just like he always did.

Excusing yourself you dipped out until you were out on the back patio. Alone to just think and mull over any little thing that should have tipped you off, but didn’t. You let it slide on, blinded by how much you thought you loved him.

You weren’t left in the peaceful night long, until Steve was joining you with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of red in the other.

“You looked like you could use a glass or two.” Steve gibed carefully. “I’m just using your sour mood as an excuse to escape from the party.” You were about to object when a full glass of wine was shoved into your grasp.

“I’m not in a sour mood. I’m just swell.” You spoke before taking a big swing of the drink, nearly emptying it’s contents, sending it barreling down your throat.

“Sure, honey. Just like the green monster isn’t oozing out of you.” You found yourself intentionally growling at him, just a little agitated of the truth he spoke.

The absolute audacity on this man seemed to never end. Whether it helped you or caused more misery than he intended.

“It certainly doesn’t help that she's so goddamn perfect. Was she fucking made in a lab? Jesus Christ.” You were jealous and if Steve already knew there was really no point in hiding it. It was written all over you, the longing look you were giving Bucky all night, desperately wanting to be the one he wanted.

“She’s not perfect, nobody is. Just better at hiding her faults than everybody else.” He said it like it was some known fact. Something you should’ve already known, but insecurities tended to eat you alive. Truthfully, it didn’t help that Bucky acted like Natasha walked on water in his hopeful, gleaming eyes. Stinging you like a bee piercing your soft, plush skin for the first time.

He really loved her. It didn’t matter how many times she messed up, what he felt was all the same — she was the one.

“Really? I don’t buy it. Name one.” Steve perched himself on his knees in front of you, his hands on the armrest of the chair you made yourself comfortable in. “Okay.”

“How about the fact that she loves Bucky just about more than anyone else but she’s too selfish to let him go? Then, for months she leads him on and promises she’ll come home but always leaves him heartbroken.” Steve let it flow all in one breath, as his body rested between your legs.

“Sounds gruesome.” You confessed because it hit a little close to home. “Yeah, it is and he has no right to do the same thing to an angel like you.”

You hated how he was right, truly hated it, but anyone with eyes could see how much Bucky dragged you through the mud. He had a good heart, but it just hadn’t been good to you.

Bucky’s intentions weren’t malicious and it didn’t seem like he was either but it didn’t take away from how much he continued to hurt you. All of the unintended consequences only affected you as he went on with his day.

Over and over, he continued to cause you pain and he didn’t even know it. Or he did and just neglected to acknowledge it. If he did, he’d actually have to deal with just how much he was actually hurting you.

It wasn’t like either one was particularly gunning for the latter, but Steve was. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had left you high and dry whenever the red head, beauty stepped foot into town. Although it was the first time you had a front row seat to the attention she commanded from him.

You both sat there in silence for the moment, taking in the starry night as he rested his cheek against your leg. He began running fingertips up and down your exposed calf, letting him soothe you.

“I’ll keep thinking I’ll be alright. That’ll get over him, but he just keeps pulling me back and jerking me around for his ride and I let him.” If anyone saw you besides Steve, you didn’t think you could handle it but you’re comfortable around him.

He’s continuously been there for you everytime Bucky pushed to the side for her. Always so sweet, so tender, comforting you in his warmth. Never once judging you, always taking the time time to just sit and listen to you.

“I don’t think it’s even about him anymore. I’m just chasing this unattainable moment, just so I fill this void in me. Maybe if he loves me I can love me, too.” Mumbling under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Bubba.” You smiled for a second, as his voice dripped in concern. “You don’t need him or what little he can offer. Not when you can love yourself better than anyone else can.” He pulled himself up to his feet, picking you up from the chair until you were surrounded by just him.

“We love you. I love you, so stop listening to those nasty little thoughts, bubs. They’re far from the truth. You are truly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and deserve the absolute world.” With slight pressure from his index, he tilted your chin up, letting your eyes drown in his.

“Don’t expect anything less.” Steve breathed out, before testing the waters. He just held you there, caressing your back as you just sunk in his arms, allowing his warmth to ease your hurt. Just like he’d done so many times before.

Somehow, Steve seemed to know exactly what you need to hear. You didn’t know how he managed to be so wonderful all the time. Maybe you could just stay there forever with him shielding you from every single evil in the world out to get you.

“Can you take me somewhere? This is the last place I want to be.” Steve simply nodded before lacing your hand in his, before making your way back inside.

The moment the two of you stepped foot into the house, it was silent. Everyone looked at the two of you. Steve took notice of the Bucky’s bugged eyes at the joined hands of his two best friends, but knew better than to verbally acknowledge it.

It wasn’t something Steve and you hadn’t done, but never in the prying eyes of Bucky. Thor and Wanda had taken note of it a few times, but never spoke a word about it. Secretly, Wanda hoped it meant something for you, because she could see just how much Steve adored you.

He never spoke a word, so you remained clueless to a feeling he never felt like he had a right to speak on. No matter how strongly he felt, he knew if he confessed, it would do more damage than good.

You had become one of his closest friends in the past few years he’d known you and he wouldn’t jeopardize it for anything. Selfishly, he left you under Bucky’s radar because being your friend was far safer than risking the rejection he was sure would be sent his way.

He knew you were close to cutting Bucky off from your life completely, he just had to wait it out. Natasha being here tonight was the icing on the cake for Steve, because all he had to do was be here for in a way Bucky never could. Not when he was slicing through your heart every time his attention diverted from you to her.

Just because he was stuck in a past love instead of the future and Steve would fully take advantage of it — being there for you in any way you needed.

Regardless of everything, he wanted to — needed to. He couldn’t live with himself if he let you go through the hurt and heartache alone. Not when so many times you had seeked the comfort of him to lean on. Steve would never be one to say no to you.

“Are you leaving, doll?” The endearment Bucky intended to be sweet but left a sour taste in your mouth. More than that, you didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at the use of his pet name for you. The one she thought was only reserved for her.

Maybe if he held affection for you like he did earlier today, your heart would be filled to the brim, but he didn't. So, you weren’t. “Yeah, Steve’s going to take me home. I have an early morning tomorrow and I’ve already had a bit too much wine.” Bucky didn’t argue, nodding with a tight lipped smile.

Perhaps his indifference is what made you hurt even more. He didn’t care about anything, not even you with you so closely tangled with Steve. It didn’t have an effect on him because the woman sitting by his side, draped over him held more value than you ever could.

“You sure? I can make sure you get home safely.” Bucky pleaded, but before you could respond Steve did.

“I got it, Buck. I’ll make sure she gets home.” He looked like he wanted to say more but he decided to stay silent as he watched you walk out the door with Steve, hand and hand.

The drive home in the Uber was silent, Steve didn’t say a word, just the weight of his arm holding you close. He took note of how you refused to look at anything but the luminescence of the New York’s city lights captivating your vision.

Even if it hurt Bucky only chose you whenever Natasha wasn’t around you couldn’t help but focus on how hot and heated your body felt with Steve so close to you. Holding you so tightly like he was afraid you would let go.

Perhaps it was a bit shady of you to drape yourself over his childhood best friend whenever he rejected you, but now you were finding yourself finding solace in Steve in everything, like you used to with Bucky. He had become this safe place for you, where you wouldn’t be shamed for how you felt or what you were going through.

Even if he knew how much you were hurting from your own obliviousness to Bucky’s behavior, he always let you find solace in his strong, comforting arms. Always sturdy enough to hold the weight of your hurt and what he was carrying too. Just like tonight.

“He’s never going to love me the way I want him to — like the way he loves her.” It wasn’t a question any longer, it was a stone cold fact. Something you’d tried to ignore over the past year, especially.

Not wanting anything in this moment but him, you laid your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat giving you a sense of peace in the aftermath of your heartbreak. The crisp material of the white button up he was wearing shifted from the weight of you, he didn’t really mind.

“I think it’s time for me to let go of this image I have of him, one he can never live up to and accept him for who he is and where he’s at right now.” Steve nodded, still not saying a word, slipping farther and farther away from you as he let his thoughts consume him entirely.

It’d been happening a lot more lately. This. The close, excruciating intimacy between Steve and the woman he was in love with.

Over the past few months, anytime you were upset about something, you would show up at his doorsteps crashing into him as you wept. Always wanting to be close to him, snuggled up to his side, bleeding your heart out to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone.

Not even Bucky.

Then there was the one kiss on New Years’ Eve a few weeks ago which stayed imprinted on the forefront of his mind. He remembered when he woke up the following morning, he was holding you to his chest, the both of you bodies laced with one another.

He got up before you were there to consciously witness it, but it was all he thought about weeks after. Being that close awoke the need to be near you. It was already there, but now he knew how it felt to hold you in the comfort of his own bed.

It nearly killed him when you woke up, making your way down the stairs from his bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers and the shirt he wore last night. Steve wasn’t drunk enough to completely forget the whole night, nothing had happened in his room last night. Seeing you, in here, in his apartment, made him think what his life could possibly be like with you here.

If he was ever to be so lucky.

As of yesterday, when you told him Bucky finally wanted to move forward with you, it broke him. Even if he kept his true feelings hidden, he felt you crush his heart with one fatale squeeze. Any particular hope he once had, was diminished into a fantasy far from reality.

The both of you were Steve’s best friends — he had to be happy for you.

Then, Natasha came to town. Storming through Bucky’s heart just like she’s always done. When Steve invited you to the dinner his best friend was trying to keep you from, he knew it could possibly be the last fatale blow to whatever string your relationship with Buck was. Maybe his, too.

Steve knew going after you could mean losing his really good friend, but he simply couldn’t stop himself. Not when you were a pure goddess ascending from above in all of your glory, capturing his heart in every single glance you threw his way. At this point, he didn’t care what it’d cost him.

As long as he had you, it would be worth it.

When the car pulled up to your street, you let your hand glide down his chest, resting on his lower abdomen. Not missing the way his body trembled under your touch, the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to protect him from you — not that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

As soon as those sinful words left your mouth, he knew he was done for.

Perhaps, if the both of you hadn’t been tipsy of the bottle of wine you shared, you wouldn’t feel the urge to invite him up, but he smelled too good and acted too perfect for any other consideration.

“Do you want to come inside, Stevie?” You purred watching the gears switch in his mind. Contemplating if he really should go through with it. Now that it was within his reach, he was becoming hesitant to grab it. You were drunk, he was drunk. Hence the uber and the both of your cars left behind in Tony and Pepper’s driveway.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to go up there, bubs.” Instantly, you pouted. A deep frown etched on your beautiful face. “Why not? I think it would be a wonderful thing. Don’t you?” With one swift movement, you were cupping his crotch, making your intentions more than clear.

The grunt leaving Steve’s mouth was animalistic as he tried to exercise the very little restraint he was holding onto. It seemed to become increasingly difficult as you refused to move your hand away.

“I need you to take care of me and I’ll take care of you.” Finally releasing your grip on him, you exited out of the car and you didn’t have to look back to know he was falling you into the lobby of your apartment building.

After a silent elevator ride, with you tucked into his side you made the walk down the narrow hallway into your home, fidgeting to open the door with Steve’s hands caressing your sides. Carefully watching as you kicked off the painful heels, the bottom of your feet thankful, pulling you deeper into the apartment.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You retreated, afraid someone else might turn you down, too. If Steve did, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s been your person you can count on and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

Stopping your movement once you reached your bedroom, you were still waiting for his response. Meticulously, he reached for hand before twirling you around your back pressed against his front. Sighing, when his hand dragged up your spine, while the other hung on your waist with his hand pressed against your stomach.

Pushing the thin strap of your velvet dress, letting it fall off your shoulder. Soft, firm lips touching your soft skin, you couldn’t help but lean back into him. Tilting your head back, offering yourself up to him on a silver platter.

His touch felt like heaven and you didn’t think you’d ever want him to leave. Not when you always felt safe wrapped up in his large muscular arms. Never making you question if you felt wanted.

“Right now, my body wants you as badly as it ever has.” Steve confessed while his lips migrated towards your neck, giving you some much needed attention.

“Does it?” You questioned him, losing any other train of thought as let his other hand push the other strap off your shoulder, the slinky dress falling to floor pooling at your feet.

“It does, sweetheart, but it’ll have to wait.” Already pouting like the brat you were, ready to seduce him right into filling you up, just like you brought him here tonight for.

Dropping down to your level, Steve whispers in your ear, “Because when I fuck you just the way your pussy is aching for it won’t be when you’re drunk, princess.” Throwing gasoline on the fire he created, sharply he bit your earlobe, making you moan.

“I’ve thought about this so much, princess. At first, I thought I would take you from behind, but then I wouldn’t see those begging, doe-eyes itching for a release.” You were trembling for him. His filthy words flooding straight to your slick, crying for him already.

“Maybe you’d want to ride me, huh? Do you want to fuck yourself on my fat cock?” At this point, if it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed if he found out just how wet you were. Your panties are completely ruined because of him.

“I want to ride you so bad, Stevie.” Maliciously, he laughed before giving your clothed pussy a rough slap, causing you to gasp out. Your nails digging themselves into his bicep as you reached for it.

“Well, if you had been a good girl, maybe I’d let you cum on my cock.” You turned around face to face, ready to bruise your knees for him in a heartbeat. In this space and time, you’ve never wanted anyone more.

Harshly, he gripped your chin as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip, dragging it down so it plumped right back up. “Bucky will be here tomorrow morning, if not tonight. I took his precious little play thing home and he’s not gonna like that one bit.”

“He wants to have his cake and eat it, too. If you want to let him, by all means go right ahead. And if you don’t? You know where I live, princess.” Very much in contrast to the last few minutes, he sweetly kissed your cheek and headed out right back the door without so much as a second glance.

Leaving you with a hell of a lot to process.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tagging: @tonystankschild | @andromedasstarship | @tinylumpiaa | @brattycherubwrites | @bval-1 | @kayteewritessteve |

[sugiwa]

small dreams

It took one 27 second long video for Keigo to fall in love

The video looped through every news cycle, and each reaction varied from outright derision to almost mythical awe emerging. On YouTube, it was viral in fifty-three different countries and Starburst—a name derived from a candy company that the pro-hero was fond of—jokingly tweeted that she was more famous than All-Might.

And she might have been thanks to the reporter that not only caught her decking the father of a girl she just saved but also recorded the subsequent twenty-seven seconds it took for three police officers to pull her off him and pull her away. The peace sign Y/N threw up as the police led her into a car probably didn’t help, nor did the live stream of her twenty-four hours in a holding cell while they investigated her claim of the man’s abuse and finally released her.

Though there were news outlets that tried to pin Starburst down as a hero on the edge of villainy, her public reputation hadn’t taken any damage. It was hard, after all, to claim that she did the wrong thing when they heard the girl’s testimony and pulled her medical records. But, Starburst—or L/N Y/N—still faced punishment from the Hero Public Safety Commission despite all this.

Attacking an unarmed civilian was apparently a big no-no—even if he was an abusive asshole. She was spared having her license revoked until she retested the simple principle that she had refrained from using her quirk. Her sentence was lessened to a month-long suspension with a strict patrol schedule in some city near Tokyo.

Y/N could work with it. She could put up with the Commission’s inane chatter for the sake of her job, but she drew the line at issuing an apology. It took three hours to wiggle her way out of a press conference to address the event. By the time her meeting with the Commission and sentencing was done, Y/N retweeted the initial video with the caption: Totally worth it.

Keigo was slightly in love with Starburst. Maybe it was the way she strolled into the Hero Public Safety Commission building fresh out of handcuffs and bluntly told them that she wasn’t apologizing and would rather become a vigilante than listen to ten more minutes of them debating the future of her career.

Or maybe it was the video which he’d seen a hundred times over, where she looked like a hero. The kind he’d always dreamed of as a kid, the kind who swooped in and beat the bad guy and then offered you stickers and candy and told you everything would be alright because it was exactly what she’d done for that little girl.

Either way, L/N Y/N was a hero who deserved a little rest, which was why he was currently tailing her patrol route and taking care of the problems before she could move. Her quirk was right out of a comic book too. The golden energy that left her capable of issuing an instant KO.

“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, finally turning around to glare at him. She had a warm face, not made for anger which was probably why the glare fell away a moment later, replaced by a smile. “I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering any fanservice in exchange.”

“Who said I was a fan?” His wings flapped, feathers flying back toward him.

“You regularly stalk girls mid-air? That sort of thing does not fly with me.” Y/N laughed, nose scrunching at her own joke. “Get it…cause we both fly….”

He smiled innocently, “Thought of that all on your own?”

Y/N groaned, twisting her earring, “Just because I didn’t go to a fancy-ass hero school like Wet Jeanist and Flameo Hotman doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Slight insulted by the nickname she gave his favorite hero, he asked, “Flameo Hotman? You mean Endeavor-san?”

“Ohhh, that’s a man-crush voice.” Her eyes tightened with mischief, “I’m gonna have to dip since I got a hot date with my credit card. See you later, Chicken Little.”

He watched her go in slight awe because Y/N really was as crazy as the stories said. Starburst was a hero that had a bit of a cult following. She wasn’t high enough in the rankings to be wildly popular the way he was—up until she went viral, that was. A graduate of Ketsubutsu who went on to attend college before actually becoming a hero, she was on a watch list with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Apparently, non-conformity was an issue…who knew.

A rain of confetti fell over Keigo’s head, brightly colored and all covered in specks of glitter. He inhaled deeply, turning to see Starburst’s grinning face as she eagerly clapped. Endeavor, like always whenever he was forced to be in Starburst’s proximity, turned around and stalked down the hall. Her confetti burned in his wake. Y/N’s voice followed him, offering an empty congratulations to the hero.

“How’s my precious senpai doing?” she asked, turning her attention to him.

“You really know how to annoy him, huh?” asked Keigo staring at the empty hall. If you gave Y/N too much attention, she ran with it. “What’s the deal?”

Y/N shrugged, rolling her shoulders confidently, “Some people are not equipped to handle true talent.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Keigo.

“I may or may not have drunkenly confessed that I had no idea who he was to a bunch of reporters during last week.” Y/N made a rude gesture with her hand. “I mean, if you’re not Number One, then do you really matter?”

“Harsh,” he ruffled his wings, freeing the last of her glitter confetti and letting it rain on the ground. “You all good with the Commission now?”

“All thanks to you! I owe you one, you know that?”

“Nah,” Keigo waved her off, resisting the urge to laugh as she made her bright eyes as wide as possible. “It was pretty brave of you. Plus, I think anyone would have done the same thing.”

Three months out of trouble, Y/N once again made headlines for ‘accidentally’ dropping a child trafficker off a building. She caught him before he hit the ground, but apparently, the authorities deemed the emotional damage a little extreme.

“They probably would have been a bit smarter about it, though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no one expects you to be the brains.”

Y/N pouted. “True.”

Keigo laughed. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not in the top ten.”

“Is bullying the new rage these days?” Her pout grew, arms crossing over her chest, “Everyone’s got something snippy to say to me. Where’s Rumi when I need her?”

“Gonna hide behind her?”

“Fuck yeah.” Y/N nodded emphatically as she reached into her pocket for a pack of gum. She offered him a piece. “Let’s see how your chicken wings stand against her legs.”

Keigo looked at the gum and then her. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Wanna get something to eat?”

Her smile looked like the sun, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Dragonbreath?” asked Y/N, sprawling across his couch. It was the third time this week she was here. He should tell her to leave, but the words die in his throat in his mouth every time he tried.

There’s too much risk. Dabi’s listening in on everything he does these days, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near them. Not when he’s aware of what they’re planning. Not when he knows how Y/N would react.

She was rough and improper in everything she does, but there’s no one brighter or better when it came to genuine goodness.

Keigo dodged the question with his own. “Endeavor again?”

“Ran into him last week and got yelled at for ten minutes for getting in his way. The guy was in my path, and I’m the one getting yelled at? Next time, I’m drop-kicking him off his skyscraper.” She kicked her leg in the air, reminding him that she was scarcely dressed.

Was this what having a girlfriend like? Constantly jumping between fondness and horniness? He wasn’t complaining.

He heard this threat a million times. “Still mad about the fact that he has one?”

“I’m a simple country girl. I’d be happy with a peach orchard and some chickens.”

“Come here,” he crooked his finger at her. Y/N got up instantly, crossing the room toward the balcony where he stood. Her hands wrapped around his waist, slipping under his shirt, across his skin, over his chest. Too much and too little at the same time.

“You’ll get cold out here,” she murmured. He could sink in the warmth she offered.

“It’s nice seeing the world so still.”

A noise left her throat, wet and worried, “Hawks, whatever it is, whatever they’re making you do, I’ll be here. I promise.”

People joked about Y/N being dumb—he did it too often to count, but she saw more than most people did when it mattered.

“Why’d you become a hero?”

“Saved a cute boy once, and he gave me a kiss,” she said. He’d heard that story before. She offered it in every interview, never expanding on what boy or how she saved him. It was also a glaring lie.

He didn’t push her. He lied about too many things to count.

Keigo took her face between his hands—the urge to kiss that tiny speck by her eyes thrummed through him. It would take a thousand-thousand years for him to forget her face. Y/N turned, her lips skimming his palm, cold and warm at once.

He loved her because she was Y/N. Because in her, he could love himself and not grow cold from it. Because the numbness he’d always known leaked out in place of affection. He loved her boundlessly—above, below, and across—unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.

It was with her that he was Takami Keigo and not the current Number Two.

His hand cupped her neck, fingers tangling in the curls of her hair. Her lips opened under his. A trail of fire burst across his lips, and for a moment, he only knew the sweetness of her mouth. He drank her in, each breath, each hushed sound leaving her throat.

He would do what they asked and make the choices no one else could.

It was worth the world he dreamed of.

[axwalker]

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we���re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 

[jenomark]

JANUARY

➔Pairing: Doyoung x Reader (Female) | Jaehyun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Plot (ft. smut, romance, angst, fluff etc.) ➔Warnings: Angst ➔Word count: 4,716

➔Summary: You are dating handsome and lovable Jaehyun. You stay at his apartment all of the time, along with his roommate Doyoung. Doyoung has feelings for you, which he doesn’t quite understand. What begins as an innocent crush changes the lives of all three people over the course of seven months.

AUGUST SEPTEMBER OCTOBER NOVEMBER DECEMBER

Jaehyun sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, leaning back on his arms, his hair a tousled mess, and his eyes red from not sleeping well. Moving never agreed with him. He hated change and how hard it was to settle into newness. He aspired to keep things as they were, which was why he hardly shopped for new shirts or baseball caps. The older and more used things were, the happier they made him feel. He didn’t want to exist in a world where he had to pick out new things to decorate a new apartment with, to pretend like he cared about separate cutting boards, one for meat and the other for vegetables.

Maybe he was just tired of giving a shit altogether.

He sat for a while on the wood floor that was scuffed after having to move his furniture alone. He kicked a lone sheet of bubble wrap with his foot, trying his best just to pop a bubble with his big toe. He blew hot air out of his mouth and looked around, willing his brain not to stir up old memories.

His phone rang and he ignored the call, something he didn’t often do. Jaehyun was a social butterfly. He liked talking to people, and liked the attention at the other end of the call, the way someone could feel excited just by talking to him. He knew the people he loved would be worried about him, and he resented any of those feelings they might have.

“I’m a grown up, for fucks sake.” he had told his mother before he left to pack up his apartment on his own.

His mother didn’t raise an argument, just let her only son go. So, Jaehyun was left alone to pack up his whole life, or what was left of it. By the time he got to the apartment he used to share, more than half of the things were gone. He hadn’t realized how little material possessions he owned, or how easy it was to pack up what he did have.

Jaehyun got to his feet. He knew he had to make a move and look for a new apartment for one person. It really was time to grow up and be the man he always wanted to be. He took one last look around the apartment before he locked it up forever, crossing that threshold and only thinking about you once.

December

“-I cheated on you.” he said. “I cheated on you the night I went to the bar without you.”

He meant it to sting. He wanted to see how the realization would set in, how the relief would slowly be replaced by repulsiveness. Your pretty little face scrunched up with it until you opened your mouth to berate him. More than anything, he wanted you to blame him for ruining the relationship, to use him as an excuse for your own infidelity.

Instead, there was only relief. It made Jaehyun feel disappointed.

“Do I know her?” you asked.

“No.” Jaehyun said. “She was a stranger. That doesn’t matter. It was just one time”

He was lying through his teeth. Not the best liar, Jaehyun was surprised you bought it. You looked understanding, which made him want to hurt you, really hurt you. The fight left him as soon as you admitted defeat. It was easy to love you but harder to unlove you.

“I have something to confess.” you said, sounding as pathetic as you looked.

He didn’t always know that you were cheating with Doyoung. There was a time, in the beginning, he used to laugh behind Doyoung’s back at his little crush on you. It was like a game for Jaehyun to watch his roommate squirm any time you walked into the room. It gave Jaehyun a mental pat on the back to know that he could get someone like you, someone everyone else wanted, someone Jaehyun’s roommate could not get. Looking back on it, it was wrong of him to think like this. Like everyone else, he was still learning how to be a better human being. He thought it would just take time.

Jaehyun had many crushes throughout his life, so he could hardly blame Doyoung for what should have been an innocent crush. You were pretty special. In a lot of ways, Jaehyun wished he hadn’t taken you for granted so much, because there were aspects to the relationship that were so good for him. He felt stupid to lose them. Also, you were beautiful and the sex was some of the best he’d ever had.

He supposed that he became really suspicious the feelings weren’t unrequited around Halloween. Something felt off at the party, and it had nothing to do with his drinking. You glowed whenever you were around Doyoung, much brighter than he himself ever could make you. That was the profound moment, the one where he tried so hard to convince himself that it wasn’t true. He began to blame himself for thinking negatively. The guilt ate away at him, gnawing at him whenever he was alone with his thoughts.

“Should I be scared of this confession?” Jaehyun asked.

There was so much bitterness dripping from his voice, but he was trying his best to remain neutral. Seeing the way your face deflated made him feel sympathetic towards you, something he was learning that adults could do.

You nodded, the tears falling quietly.

“Say it.” Jaehyun said.

You looked at him. He would always remember the way you looked at him, and how he wished things had turned out differently. In your eyes, he could see how certain you were of the future, how sure you were with your own choices.

“I cheated on you, too.” you said.

Jaehyun didn’t react like you wanted him to, which threw everything off. Your expression was accusatory, and he could see that you were wondering if either of you ever loved each other to begin with.

“Do I know him?” he asked.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Jaehyun shrugged. “What does that say about you?” He squeezed his fists down by his side to calm down. He tried a different approach and added, “We shouldn’t do this outside.”

He started walking towards the car, hoping you would follow, but you didn’t. He walked back to you, reaching out his hand to touch your arm.

“You knew.” you said, the realization dawning on you slowly. “You knew I cheated on you this whole time?”

Jaehyun let his hand fall down by his side. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “Yes, I knew.”

“Did you cheat on me because I cheated on you?”

“Let’s talk about it in the car, please.”

He started walking, but again, you didn’t follow. Frustrated, Jaehyun turned back around. He looked at the windows to make sure no one was watching the show. He didn’t need his mother or his little cousins knowing what a wreck his life could sometimes be. By then, all the steam had left him. He was no longer angry or bitter, just numb.

“Yes, I knew you cheated on me,” he said. “I didn’t cheat on you because you cheated on me. What level of petty do you think I am?”

“How long have you known?” you asked.

“Does it matter?”

You looked terrified and so small. Jaehyun had to resist the urge to scoop you up and hold you in the cold air. He was still an asshole, but he was becoming a sensitive asshole. He thinks that’s the moment where the true change began.

Slowly, you started walking towards him. You both made it back to the car, a place that was starting to feel too heavy for Jaehyun, too boxed in. Closing the car door blocked out all of the air and sound. It was just the two of you, one person silently crying and the other trying his best not to break down with you.

“Why him?” was all Jaehyun said.

It was a question that had been bugging him for a long time. Sure, Doyoung was more emotionally available. He was outwardly intelligent. His charms were many, and he wasn’t bad looking. He kept most of his promises and could have been a good friend in a past life. People never had the wrong idea about Doyoung when they first met him, either, not like they did with Jaehyun. Their opinion of Jaehyun wavered, but Doyoung always brought forth the same reaction. He was the man a mother could like. He was the one you fell in love with, the one who felt right from the start.

Jaehyun could feel the mood in the car turn even more sour. You didn’t know he also knew it was with Doyoung. Maybe you were going to convince him that it was someone unimportant, some random in a bar, just like his story.

“Am I that awful?” Jaehyun asked. “I know I haven’t been here for you a whole lot. Our relationship hasn’t been the best.”

You cried a little harder. “No, you’re not awful.”

“So, why? Why do this to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good to know.” Jaehyun said, starting the car.

He drove away in silence, the only sound coming from the hum of the car. He dropped you off in front of his and Doyoung’s apartment. It was getting harder to remain feeling numb. As he sat in the car in front of his apartment, Jaehyun could feel every emotion flooding through his veins. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m not coming inside,” he said. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay until both of you are out of my apartment. Take as long as you need.”

You got out of the car and came around to the side where Jaehyun’s window was open. He opened it to the cool night air in order to breathe in the freshness. It just ended up making him feel ice cold, inside and outside.

Jaehyun leaned out of it and said, “By the way, I never really cheated on you. I just said that to make you admit it. Thanks for saying it.”

The numbness returned and followed him around for roughly a month. You and Doyoung moved out within three days, not bothering to stew in feelings of guilt, like he wanted you to. Jaehyun didn't know what to do with himself, after that.

He would walk in and out of Doyoung’s empty room in the apartment, thinking up memories of you two fucking where Doyoung used to keep his bed. It was tortuous and stupid, and it helped no one in the long run, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to draw emotions out of the pit of his belly.

Not seeing you had made it harder for him to move on. He thought about going to see you at your job, to casually stop by where he knew your group of work friends would be, but there were people in his life who always talked him out of it. He just wanted to feel something, anything at all.

His own work friends suggested he hook up with random strangers, but he never actually had it in him to go out and do it. Building any kind of relationship with someone wasn’t a great idea, even if it made him feel like he was getting some kind of sexual revenge on you. Walking around his half-empty apartment wasn’t the best choice either, but it helped him pass the time.

He didn’t get to tell you, but it was Doyoung that eluded him to the affair. When Jaehyun had asked him to take care of you, he had never seen someone so confident in his ability to do so. There was love in that man's eyes, a love that can only be felt when the person you love loves you right back. A little after that, when Jaehyun really looked at you and saw you, he confirmed that something serious was going on.

In a way, Jaehyun hoped it was just sex. He could take it if you and Doyoung were sneaking off just to fuck each other when he was at work. Adding love into the mix hurt him a little more, made him aware of the things he lacked.

So, back and forth he went like that across the apartment. He did things he wasn’t proud of. He blamed himself and didn’t blame anyone else but you. He cursed your name in the darkness. He took his aggression out on Doyoung, even going so far as to ring up his work and tell them Doyoung was thinking about quitting. It really was petty, which maybe he definitely was being, but it wasn’t anything he couldn't correct himself for. He was trying. He really was.

Jaehyun took the last box from the top of the stairs, carrying it down in his arms like a delicate baby. On the side of the fridge, the only thing he wasn’t taking with him, was a calendar marking the end days in January. He thought of the next tenants moving in, and how they’d throw it out without hesitation. Maybe they’d have a more solid year ahead of them than he felt he did.

He couldn’t believe how fast time was moving, and he willed it to just slow down long enough for him to catch his breath. Soon enough, it would be February, and he’d have been single for nearly two months. The thought of spending his birthday alone made him sick to his stomach.

He walked down the stairs, looking into the box to see an old picture frame belonging to you on top. It was one your dad had taken of you as a child at the zoo. You were in shorts, your knobby knees sticking out, and your missing-toothed smile making him want to smile back. Jaehyun kept it in his room because it reminded him from time to time of you, of how one person can come into his life and change it all.

Jaehyun didn’t just want to throw it out, so he kept it with him until he moved. He didn’t know what to do with it now, but he figured he should probably return it. You’d want that photograph more than he did, but just barely.

After feeling like he wanted the whole world against you, Jaehyun started to refocus his attention on self-care and self-love. Slowly, he began to unpack his own responses to things, how he could choose to act better in every situation, and how the only person holding him back from a better life was him.

He began to feel better, too. It wasn’t going to cure him, but it was worth a start. He couldn’t stop the pessimism from reaching inside of his shirt and clawing at his bare skin, but he could change some things that didn’t serve him.

When he reached the outside, his heart a little raw from seeing your childhood photo, his mother was waiting for him in her car. Sometimes a momma's boy just needed his momma. He placed the box in the backseat and slid into the passenger seat.

“Are you ready?” she asked, patting his knee.

“I am.”

Bars felt comfortable because they were noisy. He would go to one after work, order a drink and sip on it until he felt tired and went home. He wasn’t there to get drunk or to meet new people. Sometimes, he caught up with his work friends. Other times, he sat there alone, chit-chatting to the bartender on duty. He laughed when things were funny. He let his foot tap away against the floor when the music was good.

“Is this seat taken?”

A pretty girl was standing hesitantly in front of the chair next to him. Jaehyun smiled and shook his head no. She sat down beside him, bringing her purse on her lap and looking at him with curiosity.

“I see you here a lot.” she said.

“Ahh,” Jaehyun said. “I think that’s my cue to stop coming every day. I swear, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Her eyes widened, afraid that she had offended him. “I didn’t mean-”

“-I’m kidding.” Jaehyun said. "It's a joke."

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaehyun pushed his empty glass away from him and swiveled his chair to face her more. She looked self-conscious with the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. Jaehyun felt too awkward, so he turned his chair back around.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No.” She said, “I came to talk to you because you looked lonely.”

To that, Jaehyun didn’t know what to say. Instead, he ordered another drink and let her talk his ear off. She talked about everything and nothing the whole night. Jaehyun partly listened and partly let his mind wander. She was nice and interesting enough, but he wasn’t ready to start talking to other women in a way that suggested sex or relationships.

He could have used a friend. He would have liked to have found a friend in her, but she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him in that way when her hand found her way to his thigh. She moved it upward with each word she spoke, her fingertips dangerously close to fondling him.

“This was fun.” Jaehyun said, feeling the buzz of alcohol running through his system. “Unfortunately, I have work early tomorrow and need a full night's rest. See you sometime?”

The girl looked taken aback at the sudden change of events. Jaehyun got up from his chair, said goodnight to her and sauntered out of the door. He hadn’t even realized they didn’t exchange names.

Jaehyun decided to walk home. The night was cold in the way winter was, but manageable. His jacket kept him warm enough, and if his bones chilled, he hardly noticed. He watched people as he walked, watched them happily walking along the sidewalks and dipping into whatever door they fancied. Slowly, he began to smile and feel more at ease, but maybe it was the alcohol making him feel that way. Or maybe it was a sudden feeling that maybe everything could be alright, only if he allowed it.

He woke up and he was drooling. Jaehyun lifted his head from the pillow, looking to his left and right. There was a knocking sound that felt like it was coming from inside of his head. He hadn’t been that tipsy last night, so he knew a hangover was not the cause. He lifted himself up from the bed in his mothers spare bedroom and threw his legs over the side of his bed.

The knocking continued, more feverishly than before. Jaehyun ignored it and picked up his phone to see if he had any missed calls. There were none.

“I’m coming!” Jaehyun yelled when the final knocks were more forceful. He muttered to himself,” Fucking fuck.”

He walked across the room before realizing he was shirtless. He grabbed a dirty t-shirt from the floor and brought it over his head, letting the hem of it meet his sweatpants. In case it was one of his mothers snooty friends, he looked in the mirror and cleaned up his messy hair. He didn’t need anyone judging him for sleeping past noon on a weekend.

“Coming.” Jaehyun called again.

He walked out of the spare bedroom that was just to the left of the living room and ducked down to see if he could recognize the person standing on the porch. Or rather, people. He saw just a flip of hair before he ran behind the door and held his hand to his chest to get his heart to stop beating.

Doyoung’s voice was low and quiet, but Jaehyun could hear everything he said. “We’ll come back later. He's not home.”

Jaehyun didn’t have to hear your voice to know that you were there, too , that the hair he saw belonged to you. It was dyed a darker color, but it was unmistakably you. Yet, hearing the sound of your voice made his toes curl underneath him. He didn’t think seeing you so soon after the breakup would help him.

“He’s home.” you said, your voice somewhat impatient.

It was smart of you to come when his mother was at work. He thought you might have purposely done it this way, to avoid any more awkwardness. After all, Jaehyun’s mother was sure to ride for her son, to take a look at both of them standing on the porch and curse them out. At that imagery, Jaehyun smiled to himself.

“I don’t know.” Doyoung said, his voice nervous. "Should we be bothering him like this? It's too soon."

Jaehyun backed away from the door. He wondered if he had time to run back into the bedroom and get himself more presentable. He wanted you to see what you had been missing out on. He was a handsome guy, definitely one worth giving a second look to. He suddenly wished he had taken that girl at the bar home and fucked her, so that he could talk to you and Doyoung and have her walk out of the bedroom naked, unaware of what was going on. He'd love to see the look on your face then.

No, Jaehyun thought to himself. I should appear wounded. I am wounded.

The unkempt hair and slightly red-rimmed eye look was working in his favor. Before giving it another thought, Jaehyun whipped open the front door to his mothers house and faced them both down. He kept his face stoic, his voice even. “Can I help you?”

It was Doyoung who spoke first, his voice not as sharp as usual. “You have something of hers. She was wondering if she could have it back.”

“Can she speak for herself?” Jaehyun asked.

The whole time Doyoung was speaking, Jaehyun kept his eyes on you. It was a mistake to do so. There was nothing more heartbreaking than to see how well you were surviving. Your skin was glowing and flawless. Your new hair made you look mature in a way that was sure to make everyone notice you. You were dressed in nice clothes that matched Doyoung’s vibe. Jaehyun couldn't stop the jealousy from taking root in his soul.

“She can.” you said, speaking for yourself. “You have my picture and I’d like it back. Do you, by any chance, have it here?”

Jaehyun wasn’t really listening. He was looking into your eyes, daring himself to get lost in them. Maybe it was the fact that you were unattainable now, but it made him want you all over again. It was hard to let you go.

“Are you two dating now?” Jaehyun asked.

All three were silent, even Jaehyun. As soon as he spoke the words, he began to wish they’d stuff themselves back inside of his mouth. Jaehyun tried to recover and said, “That’s none of my business. Of course, I have your photo. I’ll get it.”

In their faces, Jaehyun shut the front door. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He clawed at his own neck and willed himself to breathe. He walked through his mom's house and went down to the basement where he was temporarily storing his belongings. Apartment hunting was going decently well, but he found out he could hardly afford more than a pot to piss in by himself. Having his mother support him had been a blessing, but it wasn’t easy.

After rifling through some boxes, he found the photo in question. The first few days he spent with his mother, he kept it on his bedside table. When he realized it was causing him too much pain, he brought it down to the basement with the rest of his things. He never thought you would come back to get it, or to remember it, or to show your face at his mother's house.

When Jaehyun opened the front door back up, you were gone. Doyoung stood, his eyes struggling to make eye contact. Jaehyun opened the screen door wide and handed the photograph in its frame to Doyoung.

“If you’re here to apologize, don’t bother.” Jaehyun said. “I’m over it.”

It was a lie, one too obvious for either to believe. Doyoung’s grace allowed him to let it go, to open his mouth and shut it right away. Jaehyun sat down on one of the porch chairs and motioned for Doyoung to do the same. Jaehyun shot a look in the direction of where you waited in a car, his face not betraying what he was feeling inside.

“I’ve been thinking about what I should say to you,” Jaehyun said. “But I’ve come up with nothing. All of that anger, and it still feels like I’m a fool with no way to defend myself.”

“You’re not a fool.” Doyoung said.

“You make me a fool by saying that.” Jaehyun said. “I’m a fool who was cheated on and too stupid to realize it, even with my suspicions. By my best friend, of all people.”

“Was I your best friend?” Doyoung asked. He sounded surprised, a little annoyed.

Jaehyun didn’t have an answer for that. Before, he would have answered it quickly. Of course you were my best friend. You were my roommate, my punching bag, and my buddy when all else failed. He had let Jaehyun’s lady live there because he was a nice guy, not because he was secretly in love with her. At that thought, Jaehyun chuckled darkly.

“Maybe not.” Jaehyun said. “It seems I never really had either relationship in the first place.”

“You didn’t want me to apologize.”

“No,” Jaehyun said. “It doesn’t do any good. I could apologize for not being the best boyfriend, but it didn’t matter. I could apologize for being a shitty roommate, maybe a friend, but you would still have made your choices.”

Doyoung played with the ring on his finger. He looked down at the frame in his hands, at the sweet girl looking back at him. “I owe you transparency.”

Jaehyun waited a long time for Doyoung to speak again. He was patient and channeling maturity. All he wanted to do, really, was go back inside and go back to sleep. Still, he waited and looked at Doyoung. When Doyoung didn’t speak fast enough, Jaehyun had to speak his mind. If he didn't, it would bother him too much.

“You’re dating her, yes?”

“Yes.” Doyoung said.

“In love?”

“Yes.”

“For a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel bad about it?”

“About loving her? No.” Doyoung said. “About hurting you? Yes. I did consider us some type of friends.”

“Not the type that doesn’t steal his boy's girlfriend, huh?”

The dig might have hurt Doyoung but Jaehyun couldn’t tell. Doyoung stood up, deciding that he’d had enough of the conversation. Jaehyun followed, rising to his feet in a way that desperately made him want to appear calm and cool.

“I’ll make this quick, since I have to go.” Doyoung said. “I don’t want to lose you in my life, Jaehyun.”

“Fuck you.” Jaehyun said, the words slipping out.

Doyoung’s lips parted. “I deserve that.”

“And her? Does she want to lose me?”

“I can’t speak for her, but no, she doesn’t.”

“Fuck right off.” Jaehyun opened his screen door. “A timeline where my girlfriend cheats on me with my roommate and they come back because they don’t want to lose me? Unbelievable.”

“Believe it.” Doyoung said.” Because it’s true. She won’t admit it, but there is something codependent about you two. About me, as well. Sometimes I feel like life isn’t the same without you in it. Actually, I know it’s not.”

Jaehyun shook his head as Doyoung turned to go. “I didn’t expect this. I wasn't prepared.”

Doyoung threw his hands in the air. “Me neither. I’ve learned not to expect anything anymore. Life is fucked. I'm trying my best to unfuck myself.”

Doyoung walked down the steps and back towards the car. Jaehyun watched him go, pausing way too long before going inside of the house and closing the door behind him.