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flannels-and-fannypacks · 3 years

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Will They Won’t They | Part 2/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7.5k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears & ANGST

A/N: hey babes it’s drea posting :) i hope you enjoy this part as much as mimi and i did writing it! again, if you enjoy our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! and if you want to be updated, dm us to join our taglist! sending my love - drea :)

“Come on, let me take you out! We need to get you a new outfit for the gig coming up,” Rose insisted, dragging you to her car.

“Who said I was coming?” you frowned stubbornly, tugging your arms back but to no avail.

“I did, now let's go,” she strongly urged, pushing you into the backseat while she hopped in the passenger side and Luke hopped in the driver’s seat.

“Rose, he’s coming too! Oh, hell no!” you refused, giving the boy a pointed look.

“Sorry (N/N), I can’t drive this car, it doesn’t have learner’s insurance,” Rose apologized.

“Nice to see you Lady Bunny,” Luke grinned with a wink and you sighed.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with, okay?” you prompted and Luke nodded turning the keys in the ignition.

“Whatever you say bunny, you’re the boss.”

“Would you stop calling me that Patterson, it’s worse than when Reggie calls me Cookie,” you grumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Oh lighten up, at least you’ve got some cute nicknames,” Rose chuckled and reached a hand back to hold yours. “We’re gonna have a blast (N/N), just trust me.”

Walking past countless amounts of stores, it seemed as though Rose’s plan to find you something nice to wear was pointless. You and Rose had very different ideas of fashion, ideas that clashed far too much for Rose’s liking.

“There’s no way I’m wearing that!” you exclaimed, eyeing the brightly colored jacket in Rose’s hand.

“It’s so pretty though!” she insisted. “The texture, the color, the price? It’s a bargain, (N/N)!”

You rolled your eyes. “Then you buy it for yourself,” you told her, pulling out a simple knit sweater from the rack.

“You know what, I will,” Rose settled before looking at the sweater in your hand. “Oh you can’t wear that! You’ll look like a grandma who got lost at a rock concert!”

You frowned at your friend, holding the sweater to your chest. “I always wear things like this,” you pointed out, slightly hurt.

Rose tugged the sweater out of your hand and shoved it back into the rack. Luke popped his head up from the other side of the rack. “Yeah, but at a rock gig, you can’t go as your typical self. A poor little bunny like you would never survive a place like that,” he explained with a pout.

“Lord, have mercy,” you grabbed your necklace pendant and kissed it, frowning when you realized you weren’t wearing your normal silver cross.

“Is that like some white person good luck thing you picked up?” she asked suspiciously and you chuckled.

“No, I just thought I was wearing a different necklace. I don't know how I could have mistaken it.”

“What is it?” Rose inquired further, taking the pendant from your hands and looking at the details. “A horseshoe? I didn’t take you for a horse girl.”

“Yeah- no, I’m not… Reggie gave it to me in middle school, he won it at a county fair or something, I can’t remember,” you explained.

“Reggie gave it to you?” Luke inquired.

“Thought I said that already Patterson,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes.

Luke fought the urge to say something sarcastic back to you. “No, I’m just- Reggie?” he repeated. “I thought he...hates you, and vice versa.”

You walked down the aisle, skimming through the various articles of clothing. “And you’d be correct,” you told him.

“It was before you moved here,” Rose explained. “She and Reggie used to be best friends up until middle school,”

“Yep, but that’s in the past and we’re in the present so let’s focus on that,” you rushed, already feeling uncomfortable about the topic.

“No let's not,” Luke rested his forearms on the rack in front of you, resting his chin on top of them. “Tell us more,” he pleaded, pouting like a child.

You glared at the boy, tossing a sequined shirt at his face, making him stagger back. “And why should I, it’s none of your business, no offense Rose, and I’ll probably tell you at some point anyway,”

“None taken cariña,” she chuckled and continued looking for some clothing that would be appropriate for the gig.

Luke sighed, following close behind you. “But why can’t you tell me now?” he whined like a child. “I adopted you-”

“Against my will,” you cut in, flicking his forehead.

“Details,” he insisted. “I’m just saying, shouldn’t we be close now? Don’t you trust me?”

You took a deep breath. “Of course I do, Luke,” you reassured him, your patience thinning.

“Then why not tell me?” he pressed.

“Because it hurts!” you finally broke.

The two friends seemed to freeze at your sudden exclamation. The quiet small girl was cracking and revealing the broken china doll inside.

“It hurts, okay?” you repeated. “And having to tell the story of how I lost my best friend for some stupid reason that I don’t even know...it hurts beyond belief. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even care. I loved him, okay? I loved him because he was my best friend. Even when I had no one I had Reggie and I used to think that nothing in the world could ever tear us apart.” you admitted. “When we stopped talking, he took a piece of me with him. And I know that I am never going to get that back.”

Luke quietly moved over and past the racks of clothing pulling you into his chest and giving you a tight squeeze.

“Bunny I’m so sorry. I had no idea,”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No one knew,” you told him. “It’s not your fault, Luke, you were just curious.”

“Still,” Luke said. “I feel so bad. Maybe I could try and talk to him and-”

You shook your head repeatedly. “Maybe let’s not,” you countered. “It’s in the past now. There’s nothing I can really do about it and the last thing I want to do is rope my friends into this, too.”

“Well then how about this,” Rose suggested, giving you a prompt to change the topic while holding up a long sleeved white turtleneck along with an oversized black shirt sporting the album art of a famous rock band.

“I actually think I might be able to tolerate that,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“I’m hoping you have some ripped jeans at home, maybe some converse?”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not entirely hopeless,” you assured them and Rose laughed while Luke just pulled you in tighter for a brotherly hug.

“Look at you being mature! We love you, bunny,” he told you, swaying as he held you tight in his arms.

“Love you, too, I guess, Patterson,” you laughed. “Let me go, you’re crushing me!”

The second Luke pulled away, he leaned back in to ruffle your hair. “Now come on, Bunny, the gig starts in three hours. You all down for lunch?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you nodded. “Why not?” you replied.

Rose wrapped an arm around the both of you. “Anything but hotdogs,” she giggled.

“Agreed!” you quickly vetoed any other option and ran giggling with Rose to grab lunch leaving Luke to pay for the clothes. You were lucky he adopted you otherwise that would be a tricky one to get out of.

—

“I feel like this is an illegal number of questions to have on a test, it’s literally taking so long to mark these,” you grumbled to yourself, scribbling notes with red ink on the margins of the freshman biology test.

You had lost count of how many detentions had passed and lost track of how many were still to come, at this rate they could go on until the end of the year and in all honesty you probably wouldn’t notice.

You looked over at Reggie who was marking some short answer questions on a test, seeing his bright red check mark where there clearly shouldn’t have been one.

“That’s wrong”, you said, looking back down at your paper.

“What do you mean?”

“That. You marked it right, it’s wrong,”

“Why?” he asked curiously, putting his pen down so he could listen to you.

“Because,” you sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “the mitochondria is not the party house of the cell,”

“Well I say the mitochondria can do whatever it wants,” Reggie proclaimed, adding another check mark to the test. “Because it’s the boss,”

“No that’s the nucleus,”

“The what?” he formed and you banged your head on the desk in front of you,

“How in the world did you pass freshman science,”

“Like the rest of us, I cheated,” he countered and you looked at him with a shocked expression on your face. “Oh my God, lighten up Cookie, I was kidding, it’s been four years and I’ve barely taken any science classes since I just forgot,” he rolled his eyes.

You moved your head back to your work, only to toss the pen down in frustration moments later to try and massage a hand cramp.

“Stupid pen, stupid tests, stupid detention,” you grumbled under your breath, honestly feeling like you wanted to cry.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sat back in your seat, debating whether you should fake an emergency so you could just go home.

Reggie silently reached over to your pile of tests and eyeballed splitting it in half, taking the unmarked tests and placing them in his own pile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said flatly.

“Sooner we finish the sooner we can go home and it didn’t seem like you were going to go any faster,”

You stayed silent for a moment, carefully reaching for your own again before whispering, “Thanks,” to which Reggie only gave you a nod.

The silence between you both was excruciating. It shouldn’t have been this way, it should have been easy to talk to him like it always used to be.

So, you took a deep breath and unclenches your jaw, casually continuing to write while asking,

“So how’s the band?”

There was a short silence, probably due to his slight shock in you even asking or trying to have a civil conversation and his first instinct as usual was to block it.

“Why do you care?”

You rolled your eyes and continued to do your work, at least you tried that was all you could do. The ball was in his court.

When he looked up and saw your tired expression he realized there really didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive at this point so with an audible sigh he answered,

“It’s great, we’re working on writing songs for our demo CD,”

You nodded and checked off some multiple choice questions before you heard Reggie clear his throat and spoke again,

“How about you? How’s the family?”

“They’re alright,” you said, your lips pressed in a thin line. “I mean as good as they can be. Things haven’t changed much.”

Reggie nodded in understanding, aware of your family’s financial situation.

“Is that why you push yourself?” he asked again. You froze, your hand holding the grading pen not moving. “Hours in the library, studying until your brain practically explodes with information.” You raised an eyebrow curiously at him, making him blush sheepishly. “I just know from uh, Mr. Mallard. He likes to talk, you and I both know that.” With a small smile on your face, you nodded.

“I guess you’re right,” you finally answered. “If I get a scholarship maybe I can at least make my way through a degree without plummeting further into debt.” You kicked aimlessly at the floor. “I just feel so guilty. Like...if I don’t do the right thing or make one stupid mistake I’ll disappoint my parents.”

Reggie frowned, setting the testing papers down. “You know you’d never disappoint your parents, Cookie” he told you. Chills went down your spine upon realizing he didn’t have the usual malice and sarcasm behind his name for you. “They would never be upset with you.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Right again, Flicka,” you sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the better term would be I would be disappointed in myself? I don’t want to fail them or anything by slacking off. They’ve already done so much for me.”

“But that shouldn’t stop you from just-” Reggie drummed his pen against his thigh as he thought of the right words to use. “living? Cookie, we’re still kids. The point of high school is to just let loose and have fun, not drown yourself in schoolwork and scholarship essays.”

You playfully flicked a paper clip in his direction. “I bet you’d know all about letting loose, wouldn’t you?” you teased.

Reggie grasped his chest, gasping in feign hurt. “You wound me, Cookie,” he dramatically exclaimed, making you giggle and roll your eyes.

As the two of you continued your light banter, you were reminded of the days you and Reggie would spend at the park, competing to see who could swing the highest between the two of you. The weight on your back lifted slightly as you started to sense a bit of normalcy, no longer at each other’s throats for any reason you could find. It felt good to talk like this with Reggie, to “let loose” as he said and finally set down all the baggage you’ve been carrying since you two stopped being best friends. Everything in that moment felt right. Stress, detention, and ungraded biology tests long forgotten.

After what seemed like hours passed, Mr. Siezlio came back to the classroom, announcing that you were done for the day. You and Reggie surprisingly continued your conversation outside of the classroom, Reggie sharing more stories of the band as you giggled with every shenanigan. However, the moment you stepped foot outside, Reggie’s composure changed.

“Alex!” you exclaimed, running over to the boy. Alex had his arms outstretched, pulling you into a friendly hug that Reggie considered far too chummy. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend, watching and making sure his hands were where he could see them.

Reggie walked over to the two, a scowl forming on his face. “Alex, what are you doing here?” he asked, bitterness visibly clear in his tone.

The blond drummer raised an eyebrow in confusion at Reggie’s attitude, but decided not to address it. “(Y/N) and I have an AP chemistry project coming up so she’s going to sleep over at my place so we can work on it.”

You grinned up at Alex. “We’re probably going to have to pull an all-nighter to get it all done tonight,” you told him, making him groan.

Reggie’s lips fell to a thin line. “Good luck trying to do that,” he muttered. “Alex falls asleep before eleven o’clock. I’d pay to see him stay up past that.”

Alex rolled his eyes playfully. “When my grade is on the line, I think I can manage,” he said. “Especially after that one experiment in class you left me to do, I think we both definitely need that A.”

“Yeah, Alex can’t do titrations for shit,”

“I tried my best,” Alex fought back.

“And what did that get us?” you pressed.

Alex’s head hung low. “Erm, a B,” he muttered.

Reggie stared at the two in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend this ‘nerd talk.’ “A B?!” he exclaimed. “You were disappointed with a B? I would have been happy with C-,” he shook his head and pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder, preparing himself to part ways.

You shuddered at the thought of such a low grade. “I’d never even begin to imagine a C,” you said aloud.

Reggie smirked at you. “Well, you are a nerd, Cookie,” he teased, making you shove him.

“Ass,” you shot back.

“(N/N), we gotta go if we don’t wanna stay up all night,” Alex said anxiously.

You nodded, taking Alex’s hand in yours and squeezing it. Reggie glared down at your intertwined hands, anger bubbling rapidly in his chest.

“Bye, Flicka,” you cheerfully waved goodbye.

Reggie didn’t look you in the eye, only staring down at the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pocket. “Whatever, Cookie.”

—

Band practice the next afternoon -to say the least- was probably the shittiest the band had ever played. Luke and Bobby were incredibly confused why Alex continuously dropped his drumsticks and refused to make eye contact with anyone and why Reggie looked so angry that he could snap the strings of his bass.

“Okay, guys, guys! Come on we have a gig in like a week! We can’t go out there playing like this!” Luke insisted and Bobby nodded in agreement. “Alex I haven’t seen you fumble this much since we tried to play football and Reggie you currently have negative three hundred and forty-five dollars and seventy-three cents in your bank account so I would recommend loosening up on the strings because none of us can afford more.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on with you two?” Bobby added and Reggie sent a cold glare towards Alex that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

“What was that?” Luke asked, pointing in between the two boys.

“What was what?” Reggie asked, his head snapping back to send the same glare to Luke.

“Okay you two clearly have things you need to settle so get it out there,” Bobby nodded, motioning to the floor, metaphorically saying it was open for one of them to take.

Alex took a deep breath and nervously started, “Well I think it’s pretty clear Reggie is mad at me it’s just I have no idea as to why,” he shrugged his shoulders. “D-Did I eat your sandwich or something? A meatball sub maybe?”

“That’s not it, but did you? Because if you did you are dead to me,” Reggie said venomously.

“No! No, I didn’t,” he insisted quickly, very much so wanting to stay alive and not murdered at the hands of his best friend. “But what the hell is making you mad Reggie, I’ve never seen you like this,”

Luke and Bobby seemed to nod carefully in agreement and Reggie swung his bass around the strap so it was hanging from his back.

“You need to stay away from (Y/N),” Reggie said in a cautionary tone, pointing directly at Alex.

“Lady bunny?” Luke asked curiously with furrowed brows and Reggie just looked at him back with confusion before remembering the nickname.

“Yeah, I guess, but seriously Alex, you shouldn’t be with her,”

“What do you mean I shouldn’t be with her. (Y/N) and I are just friends! We’ve been lab partners since freshman year,” Alex insisted. “And in case you forgot I’m kind of really gay?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be spending time with her!” Reggie exclaimed furiously. Was he mad that you were spending time with his friends or that you seemed to be getting just as close with them as he once was with you. Right now, that was all a muddled mess in Reggie’s mind and heart so naturally, he started spewing out words that probably didn’t even have meaning at that point.

Bobby discreetly made his way to Luke. “Hey Luke,” he whispered. “I can go ask Rose to make some popcorn,” he shrugged.

“Oh yeah, for sure, and tell her to come in, she’ll wanna see this,” Luke added, equally invested, as their two other bandmates seemed to really be going at it.

“Reggie, you need to calm down. (Y/N)’s my friend, too. I don’t know any of your past, but you can’t tell me I should just drop her completely,” Alex said in a level toned voice.

“Oh don’t act like you know (Y/N) better than I do,” Reggie snapped. “I know her like the back of my hand, and I know she’s bad news.”

“Do you really even know her?” Alex pressed.

“Of course I do! Who was there when she broke her ankle? Me. Who was there when her fish died? Me! And who was there when everyone else wasn’t?”

“Not you anymore,” Alex cut in softly. Reggie's rant stopped short. The teen stopped pacing to look his friend in the eyes. “Reggie, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you have to admit to yourself, you still care about her.”

Reggie fumed silently. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I think you do, Reggie.”

“Alex you don’t get it! (Y/N) and me, that’s over!” his anger had sent him over the top. “Stop trying to say something’s there! It’s not!”

“Listen to yourself Reggie, just listen to yourself talk! If you heard what I’m hearing I think you’d have a different opinion,”

“Just-Just!...” Reggie pursed his lips and grabbed the neck of his bass pulling it back in front of him. “Can we just take it from the top,”

“Y’know Reggie I think Alex has a point,” Luke butted in, remembering his previous conversation with you, realizing how much losing Reggie had actually affected you.

“Oh joy,” Reggie sighed.

“Just hear me out,” Luke continued, regardless of Reggie’s reluctance. “Why did you get into music in the first place?”

“Because I loved it,” Reggie scoffed as if it was obvious.

“No really Reg, be honest,” Bobby added. “Specifically when did you start playing music more seriously?”

Reggie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, tasting the metallic liquid in his mouth he shrugged his shoulders and flopped onto the couch.

“I got into it after I stopped talking to (Y/N),” he admitted. “But what’s your point?” he asked.

“You don't confront your problems Reggie,” Alex explained. “You came to music because it helped you block out the fact that losing her tore you apart.”

“Well if it tore me apart then why am I still here, huh? Why am I happy? Why am I even alive? If she was my everything then how the hell am I still here?!”

“Because she’s keeping you here,” Luke whispered. Reggie turned to Luke, at a loss for words. “Because even though you two had a falling out, you know that seeing her everyday at school...you’re glad she’s okay.”

Reggie ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know me,” he snapped back. “You don’t know what I think, or who I-I care about. You just don’t, so you can’t stop playing “mom,” Luke.”

Luke slowly approached him. “I don’t understand you,” he said truthfully. “You never open up or tell us anything. You say we don’t know you, you won’t even tell us anything. If no one knows you, then who does-“

“(Y/N)!” Reggie finally broke. The boys froze in their spots, only staring back at their struggling friend. “(Y/N), okay? She’s the only one who listened to me, the only one who cared. And now she’s gone because I pushed her away. All because I was so stupid and my pride got in the way. It’s my fault the best thing in my life is gone.”

Reggie realized what he had said and quickly pushed himself up and away from the couch.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he shook his head and tried to make his way out of the studio.

“Reggie wait!” his friends called back for him, but he shook his head and pushed his way out of the door just as Rose was heading into the studio. “Reggie come on! We’re sorry!”

Biting the inside of his cheek he cursed under his breath, knowing that they were right. He did push people away before they got too close and right now he didn’t have the strength to blame himself so he blamed you instead.

—

Reggie stormed into the almost empty library on Saturday, having had to walk to his detention from his home by the beach which was not close to say the least.

When he pushed on the door to come into the library with such force it startled you as you organized the books and put them back on the shelves.

Reggie didn’t speak to you as he tossed his things to the side and grabbed a cart, going to his designated spot in the library.

You were careful to not try and push any buttons, knowing he was in a fragile state, it was kind of obvious, but it was even harder not to address.

“Hey Flicka?” you said gently, trying to be as compassionate as possible.

“What,” he spat, shoving some books onto the shelf without much care.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, expecting to be met with barriers, that seemed to be all that comprised your relationship now. Walls, fences, barriers, and barricades.

“None of your business,” he said, his breathing slightly heavier as the tears burned in the back of his eyes and the lump grew in the back of his throat.

“I-I mean are you sure, you seem really agitated,” you noted and he didn’t respond. “Reggie you don’t have to hide anything. It can be my business if you want it to-”

“No it can’t!” he snapped, throwing the books that were in his hands on the table. You flinched at the loud noise the impact made. “It stopped being your business the second we stopped talking to each other so just leave it Cookie,” his voice carrying the same hostility it did weeks ago.

You paused for a moment, looking down at your pile of books before whispering,

“They’re fighting again… aren’t they?”

Reggie’s throat was burning, he wanted to scream into a void, empty himself of the pain because you were right, you were always right. Even when it felt like you didn’t know each other you were always there proving him wrong.

His hands started to shake and he dropped the books he had just picked up again, turning around so you couldn’t see him. Reggie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed or if he just didn’t want you to worry.

You wanted to reach over to your old friend, offer him some sort of comfort because you knew Reggie’s family and you knew how hard it was on him.

So you did the next best thing. Pulling out your MP3 player from your pocket you went over to Mr. Mallard’s speaker system and plugged it in, turning up the volume to the max, letting the soft plucking of guitar strings fill the library and the hallway surrounding you.

You went back to your pile and turned your back to him, giving him some sort of privacy, what you thought he needed.

Reggie wasn’t sure if there was another time in his life where he had listened to this song and related to it more.

So when he wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned around and saw you, he realized he didn’t want to be far away from you, he didn’t want to yell at you, he didn’t want that distance.

So he quickly pushed the chair and table with wheels out of his way before stopping right behind you, carefully reaching for your hand that was resting by your side.

When you felt his long slim fingers wrap around your own you turned around to look him in the eyes. They were still the same beautiful shade of blue and green, but unlike the last time you really looked into those eyes, they carried so much hurt. So much hurt and sadness that should never have been there in the first place.

But through it all they said I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for all of this.

And you nodded, back, accepting that apology.

So he didn’t hesitate a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face in your shoulder. You nearly gasped in surprise as his grip around you tightened. It was as though he was afraid of losing you, and didn’t want to let you go. Lucky for him, you felt the same.

Slowly, your hands found their way around his neck. You could feel Reggie’s tears dampen your shirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“It’s going to be okay, Reggie,” you whispered.

Reggie sniffled quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that,” he murmured.

“Say what?” you asked.

“Say that everything’s going to be okay,” he continued in a hushed but angry voice. “Say that everything is all sunshine and rainbows when at the end of the day my parents will still fucking hate each other while yours struggle to keep their home.”

You stiffened under his touch. His words struck a nerve in you, but you pushed down the anger in you. He was hurting, and what he needed was a friend, not a fixer.

Instead, you squeezed him tight against you. “Then, don’t think,” you said. “Clear your mind and- and forget everything. Forget your parents, forget this stupid detention and the musty smell of these ancient books, forget me.”

Reggie dug his head deeper into your chest. “I don’t want to forget you, Cookie,” he murmured. “I-I don’t want you to leave me again a-and-“

You shushed him. “I’m not leaving, Flicka,” you reassured him. “I promise.”

Reggie let out another broken sob. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I-it’s just that we both don’t have a good record with those. Promises, I mean.”

“Let’s clear the slate,” you suggested softly. “Start over to a point where all broken promises of the past are nothing but a mere memory, okay?”

Reggie nodded, placing his hands over yours. “I’d really like that Cookie,”

You smiled, removing your hand from his cheek and linking your pinky with his. It was just like when you were kids, but slightly different. This time, it had so much more meaning of hope and love. “Then take my promise to your heart, Flicka, because I’m not leaving. No matter what.”

Reggie rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and letting whatever tears had gathered to fall down his cheeks. You lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the spot right in between his eyes, letting your lips linger there a moment longer than they should have.

“Dance with me Cookie?” he whispered.

“Flicka, you know I suck at that,” you laughed quietly, ducking your head as your cheeks tinged red.

“Don’t worry,” he sniffed as you wiped a few of his stray tears. “I won’t leave you hanging,”

“Okay,” you breathed, allowing his hands to gently hold your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders.

As you gently swayed in the library you could vividly see two young teenagers in a brightly lit room dancing to the same song.

You could hear Reggie softly humming along with the tune, but when you opened your eyes and looked at him you were brought back to reality and realized what you needed to do,

“I’m gonna call the boys okay?” you said gently and Reggie winced. “I won’t tell them. I was just going to stay over at Rose’s place tonight so maybe we could all stay in the studio.” you suggested. “So you don’t have to go home.”

“Y-You’d do that?” he asked, a certain tone of surprise in his voice.

You pressed your lips together and nodded, pulling away from him.

Making your way to the phone behind Mr. Mallard’s desk, you dialled Rose’s house number first to ask if it was okay to have everyone over, before making the subsequent calls to Alex, Luke, and Bobby.

After dealing with the phone you checked the time. Technically you still had an hour of your detention left, but for today Mrs. Hillside just swore you to honesty.

As much as it made you anxious to do so you looked over at Reggie and raised a brow.

“Should we call it? We can walk over to Rose’s place. I told Luke to bring some comfortable clothes for you,”

“Sure,” he nodded and you hesitantly let go of his hand. For some reason it felt like it was too much at once. You just needed a few moments to yourself.

All you ever wanted was for things to go back to the way they were, but now that it seemed to be happening it was a lot to take in and Reggie sensed that so he didn’t push farther, only grabbing his bag and walking quietly by your side as you left the school through a backdoor that was locked from the outside.

The situation for you both might have been one to cause panic or worry, but right now you both relished the fact that your friends were sure to provide a wonderful distraction.

—

“Lady bunny, you’re wearing your pyjamas already?” Luke chuckled from his spot on the couch while you walked out of the washroom, day clothes folded in your arms.

“I intend on relaxing today, kidnapper, thank you very much,” you said in a matter of fact tone.

“You still wearing my shirt to bed, Cookie?” Reggie teased and you stuck your tongue out at him before retorting with,

“Still wearing that Star Wars underwear Flicka?”

“Yikes,” Alex scrunched up his nose and Reggie’s cheeks went a darker shade of red than they usually were.

“They still fit okay, it would be a waste,” Reggie fought back.

“No one wants to hear that,” Bobby grimaced while you and Rose laughed together, relaxing on the futon.

“Why don’t we play a game or something?” Rose suggested. “Just to pass time, I mean this is a sleepover isn’t it?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you nodded. “Any suggestions?”

“We could play would you rather?” Bobby said, “I mean that’s a favorite right?”

You nodded in agreement. “I haven’t played that game in a while, but I’m down.” Everyone gathered around the coffee table. Prepared to sit next to Reggie, you felt someone’s hand grab yours and tug you down. Looking to your right, you saw Luke smiling giddily at you.

“As your parent,” Luke said in a motherly tone. “I need to sit by your side in case any inappropriate language is used.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Luke,” he said.

Luke gasped, covering your ears and pulling you to his chest. “Language!” he hissed. “We have a bunny here and I don’t want you to taint her mind with your demon words. No fucks, no shits, no dicks.” You shot the boy a look before pushing him off you.

“Would someone tell this guy I’m not five?” you rolled your eyes only to have one of your cheeks pinched by Reggie while he snickered and said,

“You sure look like it,” You threw an empty solo cup at him.

“Who wants to go first?” Rose asked with a wide grin.

“Oh me!” Luke exclaimed, raising his hand and waving it around wildly.

“Sometimes I don’t know what you’re on,” Alex sighed and the rest of the group laughed.

“Okay, okay, um, Bobby would you rather smash your guitar or have it run over by a semi?”

“That’s just cruel,” Bobby looked at Luke wide eyed and he just gave him a smirk in return. He sighed heavily before saying, “I’d like to think if I smashed it, it would be from rocking out so hard so I’ll go with that one,”

“Okay now it’s your turn,” you raised your brows at Bobby.

“Alright, (N/N), would you rather be locked in a room with Reggie or Luke?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Both are horrible options,” you began, making the boys yell out in response. “But the real question is: would I rather be babied to oblivion or be murdered?” you thought for a moment.

“I wouldn’t murder you!” Reggie exclaimed. “That’s too easy,” he smirked and you gasped, slapping his arm.

“Hush you!”

“What would you do to torture her then?” Rose asked curiously, knowing exactly what buttons she was pushing.

“Well see if you really want to get someone you make them fall in love with you and then break their heart,” Reggie explained casually.

“Oh that is cold Reggie,” Alex said with wide eyes.

“But I wouldn’t do that to (N/N), I think she deserves a murder,” Reggie shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from his cup.

“Put me out of my misery,” you nodded. “Alright, I’d go with Reggie,”

Luke pouted, leaning his head on your shoulder. “But we’d have fun, Lady Bunny,” he whined. “Don’t you love me?”

You scoffed, flicking his forehead. “Barely,” you joked. Luke just grabbed you by the arms and brought you up to him, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek.

“I’m your mom you have to love me,” he poked and you made a face, wiping your cheek after he had kissed you. “Hey! That was a sign of motherly love, how dare you!” You smirked, flipping him off before continuing the game.

After what seemed like hours passed, you and your friends got bored of the game once you started to run out of ideas.

Alex was nearly passed out on the floor, but Bobby nudged him awake. “Can we play a new game now?” Bobby sighed. “I know would you rather was my idea, but I’m kinda tired of it.”

You nodded tiredly, before your mind clicked with an idea,

“Wait how about MASH?” you asked curiously. “Reggie and I used to play it all the time,”

Reggie’s lips quirked up to a smile. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I’m still hoping I get that mansion and forty horses.”

“I don’t understand how you play rock music. Were you born in Montana or something?” Rose chuckled.

“Pfft,” Reggie scoffed while you laughed. He sighed and finally conceded with a nod. “Yeah okay, I’m not from here,”

“Wait you’re not!” Luke exclaimed and Reggie shook his head.

“I’m from Wyoming,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I moved here when I was like...four.”

Bobby’s face turned sour. “Wyoming doesn’t exist,” he said stubbornly.

Alex coughed, “Wait you don’t actually think that do you?”

“It’s a joke Alex, and you ruined it,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “But seriously Reg, Wyoming?” he frowned. “Like what do you even do there?”

“Live on a ranch,” Reggie sighed longingly and you tried to stifle a laugh, prompting him to put you in a headlock and ruffle your hair.

“You’re laughing right now, but no one knows where you’re from,” he smirked.

“Oh Reggie, you’re a dick.”

“Language!” Luke exclaimed, trying to cover your mouth while you protested and Reggie explained that you also were not a California native.

“(N/N)’s not from California either, she moved here when she was five,” Reggie explained.

“From where?!” Alex asked, completely invested.

“I thought we were gonna play MASH?” you tried to interject, but no one was listening to you and Reggie still had you locked under his arm. “Flicka don’t do this!”

“She’s from Canada!” he grinned and you groaned. “And the town she lived in is called Saint-Louis du Ha!-Ha!”

“Reginald!” you protested, finally wrestling yourself out of his grip while he laughed uncontrollably.

“The city has two exclamation marks in its name!”

“Guys,” Luke started seriously and Reggie’s laughter faded to silence as you listened to the band leader. “I-I have a confession to make. I’m also not from here,”

“You’re not?!” Bobby was coming close to losing it, having not known about his friends.

“I’m also from the Great White North,”

“Wait really?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m from Fredrickton,” Luke grinned.

“No way!” you exclaimed giddily. “So are you Acadian?”

“Proudly so,” he nodded and you gave him a high five.

“Canucks unite!” you laughed, not noticing the pointed glare Reggie was sending Luke.

Bobby pulls his hair in frustration. “Okay, who else isn’t from California here?”

Rose sheepishly raised her hand, much to Bobby’s disbelief. “Puerto Rico?” she answered, more so like a question.

“Dude,” Alex said, shaking his head. “She has a strong Puerto Rican accent.”

Bobby stood up abruptly, storming off. “I’m out of here!”

You stifled back a giggle, calling out, “Bobby! Where are you going?”

“TO THE FUCKING GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE,” he yelled back. “MAYBE I’LL FIND ACTUAL CALIFORNIANS THERE.” You rolled his eyes at his dramatics. You knew he would probably make it out the door before coming back in. The boy was far too lazy to make the drive, anyway.

“I wonder if he realizes that I’m from California, too?” Alex pondered aloud. The entire group burst into laughter.

“Let’s just start the game without Bobby,” Rose suggested. “Who wants to go first?”

“I can go,” Reggie nodded, grabbing a scrap of paper and writing down the things for each category.

“Okay hit me with some career options,”

“Stripper,” you said, slapping his back and he rolled his eyes, but still followed the rules and wrote it down under occupations. “You’d be a terrible stripper though, you can’t dance and you have terrible balance,”

“Okay I’d be an amazing stripper, but that’s besides the point,” Reggie countered and continued writing all the names and places his friends wanted thrown in his options. “Alright numbers now right?” You hummed in response.

“Do five,” you said with a toothy grin. “That was how old we were when we met.”

Reggie nodded, starting to go down each list and circling whatever he landed on. At one point as he counted, his face turned red as he hid the paper from you and everyone else’s view. Once he was done, you tugged on his arm.

“Come on, Flicka,” you teased. “Show us what you got!”

Reggie cleared his throat, “I mean is that really necessary?” he asked cautiously.

“Come on it can’t be that bad,” Alex insisted.

“Um, well it’s not bad perse,”

“How do you know that word?” Luke teased and Reggie rolled his eyes. “Just tell us,”

“Alright well I got a house, a music teacher, two kids, five horses and I’ll live here,” he nodded, trying to avoid a certain topic.

“Who do you marry?” Rose asked curiously.

“No one?” he answered unsurely.

Rose rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t an option,” she reminded him. “Come on, it’s just a game, Reg. Just show it.” When Reggie refused to move, Rose resorted to snatching the paper from his hands.

“Rose!” he cried out, reaching for the paper.

The girl only held the paper far away, squinting her eyes to read the circled mark. “It’s (N/N)!” she squealed. Rose and Alex high fived each other while you dug your into Reggie’s chest, completely flustered. As a response, Reggie wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head against yours.

“It’s okay (N/N),” he said loud enough for the rest to hear. “We can just murder them,” he smirked and they all burst into a fit of outrage, during which Reggie leaned in closer to you, his lips coming close to your ear while he whispered,

“It’s nice to take a break every once in a while, right?”

You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, Cookie can let loose,” you joked.

“Of course she can,” he smiled, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Oh my God did you see that!” Rose pointed to you and Reggie and he stuck his tongue out at her.

“What can’t a guy hug a gal?” he countered and you just placed your hand on Reggie’s mouth before he made it first, prompting him to teasingly bite your finger.

“Flicka!” you complained while Luke immediately came to your rescue.

“Guys! You gotta leave at least a foot for Jesus, come on this is beginner stuff,” he poked. Luke swatted Reggie’s hand away. “Get your hand off my daughter. I’m not ready to be a grandmother just yet, Peters.”

“Luke,” you whined at his extra comment.

“If they think this is bad they should’ve seen the dance Mrs. Leona made us do,” Reggie nudged you and you agreed with a chuckle.

“Since when are you guys in the dance class?” Bobby asked, coming back into the studio with more snacks.

“We’re not, Mrs. Hillside assigned under Mrs. Leona’s care for a day and we helped choreograph a dance for the sophomores next semester,” you explained, totally not realizing the implications of what you had said.

“You know they’re gonna make us dance now right?” Reggie sighed.

“Shit, they are, aren’t they,”

With a loud groan you both stood up and Reggie took your hand.

“From the top Cookie?”

“From the top,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

Rose reached for the speakers, connecting her MP3 to them and playing the song.

“Swing those hips, Reginald!” Luke whooped, reaching for the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table. Reggie mouthed a swear to his friend as his hands found his place on your hips.

“Watch where you’re putting those hands!” Rose warned. Rolling his eyes, Reggie teasing dropped his hands lower, only for you to swat them away.

“I’ll still bite you,” you hissed playfully.

“Promise?” he shot back.

Once the music started to play, you felt Reggie’s hand trail down your arm. Every move was burned to your memory as you danced along with Reggie. The comments of your friends -either cheering or teasing- escaped your mind.

And all that you wanted was for the night to never end.

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terrm9 · 4 years

Text

Count Me In (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 3 800 Warnings: none. this is just pure fluff and I like to believe that there are also funny parts.

Author’s note: I had an idea about the gang roasting Ethan for a long time and Chapter 17 made me write this (set some days after the chapter). It was supposed to be just the gang making fun of Ethan, but in the end I got a little bit carried away and it’s basically Bryce Lahela appreciation post oops

Getting dressed for their roommates Sunday brunch has been filled with a newfound nervousness this Sunday. Yesterday evening, as Sienna and Aurora were discussing whether they would make waffles or pancakes and Jackie added that Bryce and Kyra would be joining them, so they need to make more of anything that would be served, Elijah subtly nodded towards the girls and then turned to Chiara with a wide grin on his lips.

“We were actually thinking about inviting Dr. Ramsey too, now that you guys are official and everything. We know that Sundays are his days off too.”

Chiara’s eyes widened at the offer, not sure if they were joking or not.

They were not.

And so now she was sitting in her room, ready to eat and drink while also comforting her… boyfriend? Partner? What was he?

Whatever he was, she was comforting Ethan through the phone, secretly smiling at his nervous rambling about the wine he was planning to bring and sweater he was wearing (‘Is it too formal? Or should I wear something more formal? My white Oxford?’)

“Deep breaths, Ethan. Jackie is probably going to stay in her pajamas the whole day, so there really isn’t a dresscode. Just wear whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“Okay. Yes, of course, whatever I am comfortable in,” he muttered, and Chiara could hear Jenner’s barking in the background and then a soft thud, muting the dog’s calling. “I am leaving the apartment now, so I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

As Chiara hung up, she heard new voices coming from the living room, indicating that Kyra and Bryce were already there. She decided to take the chance and talk to her friends before Ethan comes.

After hugging both Kyra and Bryce and helping Sienna set the table, Chiara took a deep breath and said: “Ethan will be here any minute now. Please, please, please guys, be nice to him, okay? He is so nervous, and I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

Bryce smiled sweetly and nodded, while Sienna replied: “Don’t worry Chiara, we will be nice, stuffing his mouth with the best pancakes he’s ever eaten and smiling politely. No worries.”

“Exactly,” Kyra nodded in agreement. “We would never do anything to embarrass you.”

“Or him,” Jackie added, smiling all too innocently for Chiara to believe a word of what they were saying.

Before she could inquire any further, the soft knock on the front door disturbed them and all she could do was to shoot everyone a deadly glare before opening a door.

“Hey, handsome,” she whispered with a smile as she spotted Ethan standing in the hall. He was wearing a knitted cream-color sweater and dark jeans, a bottle of wine in his hand.

He kissed her softly before stepping into the apartment, trying his best to maintain his usual attitude of composed, distant Dr. Ramsey they all knew.

I am still their boss. I shouldn’t be nervous about having an early lunch with them.

“Dr. Ramsey!” Sienna jumped out of living room before Chiara could even try to calm him down. “We are all so happy you decided to join us. Come in, everything is ready.”

Glancing at Chiara one more time, Ethan moved to the living room, where all of Chiara’s friends have already been seated around large dining table.

The room was filled with sweet aroma of freshly-made pancakes, maple syrup and raspberry jam, whipped cream and coffee. He handed the bottle of wine to Sienna.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he finally said as he sat down on the chair next to Chiara. “The pancakes look delicious. Which one of you is such a good cook? I know for sure it’s not Chiara,” he couldn’t help but tease.

She smacked his arm lightly but didn’t say anything, knowing rather well that Ethan was right.

“Sienna is the best cook and baker of all of us,” Elijah smiled just as Sienna made her way to the table, the bottle of wine already open. “This is hers and Aurora’s work.”

“Yeah, I was even more terrible cook than Chiara when I moved in and ever since Sienna discovered the fact, she’s been giving me private lessons. Today, I’ve learned to make pancakes,” Aurora chuckled.

With everyone seated, they started to fill their plates with pancakes and fruit and chocolate chips, the room filled with sounds of cutlery meeting plates and occasional sipping of wine.

“This wine is really good, Dr. Ramsey,” Jackie nodded in approval. “I never took you for an expert on wine.”

He chuckled softly at that and after swallowing his bite, he answered: “I am not, but I thought you aren’t such big fans of whiskey as I am. Few years ago, it was the last year of my residency I think, I saved the man who owns vineyards in Tuscany and he sends me few bottles of the wine every year, no matter how many times I tell him there is no need to do so. I brought some more, it’s in the trunk of my car. I’ll go grab it.”

Chiara beamed at his words, thankful to her friends for actually sticking to their words and acting nice. Ethan’s hand found Chiara’s knee under the table and he gave it a light squeeze, their own way of communicating without attracting the attention of others.

Another silence followed, however not an awkward one, rather simply comfortable silence between people enjoying the good food and company of each other.

Thank God they are not embarrassing us-

Before she could finish her thankful thought, Bryce cleared his throat and spoke.

“Surely you understand, Dr. Ramsey, that now that you and Chiara are officially together, we need to ask you some questions to make sure that your intentions with Chiara are absolutely pure.”

Ethan swallowed the pancake a little bit harder than he normally would, but he knew how important these people were to Chiara and also how important Chiara was to him, and so he simply nodded.

Meanwhile, Chiara put her fork down loudly and exclaimed: “What the fuck, Bryce?”

She looked around the table only to see all of her friends smiling mischievously and it all clicked.

They invited Ethan for the brunch so that they could roast him. That was also the reason why Bryce and Kyra made sure to come too.

“What? Your mum asked as to do so,” Bryce shrugged.

“No she didn’t,” Chiara shook her head, throwing murderous glances at her so called best friend Bryce Lahela.

“Okay, no, she didn’t, I made that up,” he admitted, grinning. “But I am sure she will be happy to know that your boyfriend passed the test.”

“Just shut up, Lahela. We are leaving,” she gritted her teeth. She could feel her cheeks flushing and hot at the word ‘boyfriend’ that Bryce used so easily. Even she didn’t dare to call Ethan her boyfriend yet!

She turned her head to look at Ethan and to her surprise, he was leaning against the chair, amused smile on his lips.

As he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, he said: “It’s okay, Chiara. I can answer the questions. I am an open book.”

At that, Chiara snorted loudly and murmured: “No you are not.”

“Bring the questions on then, Dr. Lahela,” Ethan nodded in the young surgeon’s direction. “As long as they are not too private, I am pretty sure I can pass your test.”

He wasn’t sure, of course. He was even more nervous than before and all the terrible scenarios ran through his head faster than Jenner ran while hounding squirrel in the park.

But to fake a confidence was his only weapon right now and he made sure to use it.

“Great, I’ll start then,” Bryce smiled even wider and Chiara clenched her hands into fists to not to wipe that smirk off his face. No matter how hard Bryce tried to explain that what they were about to do was for her own good, she knew that her friends stupidly enjoyed the position they were in right now.

Because right now, Ethan Ramsey wasn’t their boss. Right now, he was Chiara’s boyfriend and an intruder in their group and they could tease him and roast him and use all those sarcastic comments he’s been using their whole intern year on them, on him.

She crossed her arms on her chest and waited for Bryce’s question.

“I’ll start lightly, we don’t want to scare you in the beginning after all. We all know you are an outstanding diagnostician – I mean, even I have read parts of the textbook you wrote – and that’s pretty cool, sure. But what are the other things you are good at? Can you dance? Sing? Swim? Can you offer more than just your abilities to diagnose everyone?”

“There’s no ‘just’ in his abilities to diagnose,” Chiara barked at him, the need to protect Ethan stronger than anything else. She couldn’t let them scare him. She knew better then them about his habit of running away when things get too hard or too uncomfortable and right now, the amount of ‘uncomfortable’ in the room was enough even for her to run away.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have too much time to do anything big other than being doctor, the free time is precious commodity for me. Answering your suggestions, I can dance, yes. Singing? Probably not, but I have never had a chance to hear anyone’s opinion as I don’t sing in front people. And yes, I can swim too. Other than that, I like to think that I am rather good cook-“

“Oh, you cook?” Elijah interrupted him. “For how many people do you usually cook?”

“Just myself, usually,” Ethan shrugged, confusion clear on his face. On the other hand, Chiara knew very well where Elijah was heading and despite being terribly angry at them, she had to grin. “Sometimes for two people, when someone comes over for dinner.”

“Do you think you would could cook for, let’s say, eight people?”

“I think I would be capable of doing that, yes.”

“Great! You are welcome to crash in anytime you want and cook anything you would like to for us. I am so tired of living on ramen and plain pasta,” Elijah sighed and at that, everyone let out a short laugh. “However, sorry to disturb you. What else besides cooking?”

“I don’t know. I am good at learning languages, I guess. I speak German, Italian, French, Spanish and at the moment am learning Swedish.”

“Holy crap, that’s a lot of languages,” Kyra whistled under her breath.

“I choose wisely on what I spend my free time on and what occupies my mind. But when I choose something – learning a language, learning a new recipe, dating someone – I make it my priority and I am trying to give my everything into it. I once said to Chiara that I make it my mission to be good at everything I try and so I can assure you that I am willing to try my hardest to be a boyfriend Chiara deserves,” he answered nonchalantly, looking right into Bryce’s eyes at the word boyfriend.

He smiled at Chiara and kissed her temple, while Sienna whispered something like ‘that was so beautiful’ at the same time Jackie muttered ‘that was so sweet I might get cavities’.

“You are doing better than we expected, Dr. Ramsey,” Kyra smiled with devilish spark in her eyes. “But now it’s my turn to ask questions. You made sure to let us know that you, indeed, are capable of bunch of things but there also must be something you cannot do. Something you are seriously absolutely terrible at.”

Chiara couldn’t help it – she was beginning to enjoy this little show. It has probably everything to do with the fact that Ethan was handling the situation so well and wasn’t showing any signs of an escape.

“There is one thing that comes to my mind but Chiara already knows about it.”

“Oooh, so it’s a matter of an… intimate nature? You don’t have to share that, of course.”

Ethan choked on the sip of a wine he was just having and his eyes widened at the obvious misinterpretation of his words. The tips of his ears turned bright red and Chiara – more and more relaxed every minute – had to add her friends that have been viciously laughing at the sight.

“No! Jesus Christ that’s absolutely not what I was saying. I just thought it wouldn’t be important to share as Chiara already knows about it and still decided to give me a chance. But if you must know, I am seriously absolutely terrible at making… pancakes. I never get them right. That’s why I am so impressed by whomever made these,” he gestured at the table, where the rest of pancakes laid.

“I can teach you!” Sienna squealed. “It’s seriously so easy once you get it.”

“I am afraid it will not work, Dr. Trinh. My father tried to teach me, Youtube tutorial tried to teach me and still, my every attempt fails.”

“Please,” Aurora stepped into the conversation. “If she could teach me, she can definitely teach you. Next brunch, you are learning with her and I will be watching,” she grinned.

Aurora was nervous about this brunch. She was excited for Chiara and she was even more excited to enjoy a little bit of fun by teasing Ramsey, but even more she was terrified of what it would feel like to talk to him about anything else but work, knowing that he dated her aunt for six years.

Harper has made it clear, several times, that her time with Ethan has been more about physical attraction and supporting each other’s careers than affection, just as she admitted to Aurora that she knows Ethan Ramsey and she has known that his relationship with Chiara wasn’t simply professional for a long time. When Aurora asked her about her opinion on the new couple, Harper simply smirked and said that she was happy Ethan found someone who could tame his stubbornness.

Knowing that neither Harper nor Ethan felt any kind of hatred, jealousy or anger towards each other, she felt more relaxed about him coming as her friend’s partner. Yet, until this moment, when she teased him herself, about something as mundane as pancakes, she couldn’t get rid of a certain tension in her body.

But now, laughing at his expression as she suggested that he should learn to make pancakes with Sienna, she knew – even without any further investigation – that Ethan was a good man for Chiara.

“Okay, so you can’t make pancakes. Bruh,” Kyra rolled her eyes. “What else? You can’t be good at everything.”

“I am also rather terrible at drawing. Every time I am with a child patient with a broken leg or arm, I just hope they don’t ask me to draw something on their cast. For so many years I refused to draw anything and when they insisted, I tried to draw what they asked me to draw and they were so disappointed. Some of them even cried, that’s how ugly those drawing were,” he chuckled to himself, deep in his own thoughts and memories. “I decided to step it up a little bit a few years ago and after many, many Youtube tutorials, I can now draw a decent cat, dog, princess, car and dragon. So now, there are five different pens in the pocket of my coat and every time a child asks me to draw something on their cast, I pull the pens out and say ‘Okay little buddy, I have a red pen that can draw a nice car. I have a pink one that can draw a princess. I have a blue one for a dog and an orange one, which can draw a cat. And at last I have a green one and that one can draw an impressive dragon. You have to choose one of the pens’. Usually, that does the trick and for the last three years, nobody cried after I finished the drawing.”

He finished with a small laugh and looked around the table, only to find Bryce, Jackie and Elijah grinning, Aurora smiling softly, Sienna wiping her tears with a napkin and Chiara staring right back at him, her eyes filled with so much affection it warmed his heart.

“I wanted to hear something embarrassing and you proved that you are even better man than we expected. That’s not fair, Dr. Ramsey.”

“I think it’s okay for all of you to call me Ethan at this point,” he replied, ignoring Kyra’s compliment. He didn’t want to blush. “I probably won’t even be your attending much longer.”

There was a slight shift in the mood as the weight of his word settled down on them. Edenbrook was doomed and they all knew that the damage was beyond repair at this point, but right now, they didn’t want to talk about that.

Therefore Jackie decided to step in and turned to Ethan: “Okay, Ethan. I know you said you don’t have spare free time, but when you do and you decide not to learn anything, when you just want to relax, if you know what that word means, what do you do? How do you relax?”

“I have a dog which needs to be walked twice a day. I take him with me when I go for my morning run and then I walk with him through the park every evening I can. It makes an hour in my day, but it’s a relaxing hour. When I decide to relax at home, I usually read a book. Historical novels and poetry, mostly.”

Jackie wanted so badly to find something in his answer that she could tease him about, but really, there was nothing. This man was both, pretty impressing and pretty boring.

“You are a successful, famous, rich doctor,” Sienna smiled at him. “So, cards on the table now. What is your weakness? You know, those vices that successful, rich people have? What is it that you can’t resist? Beautiful women? Fast cars? Yachts? Golfing? Watches that cost more than my kidney? Tell us.”

Chiara shook her head in amusement, not expecting that kind of question from Sienna, of all people. However, she was curious too. She knew it wouldn’t be yachts nor golfing, but what are his vices? And so she didn’t even try to salvage him from answering.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that I have a weakness for one particular beautiful woman,” he answered without missing a beat, pulling Chiara closer to him. “Other than that, I don’t think something will come to my mind. Yachts and golf, Christ no. I despise those activities. Fast cars? There might be something about that. I have a dream car, Mercedes C 300. I almost bought it, but it’s sedan and it’s too small for me. There was no space for my legs and getting in and out would be a torture. As my father like to say, I am too tall for my dream car. But I like the one I have now, it’s a reliable car,” he shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Yes, his car was incredibly expensive and probably luxurious, but he bought it because it was elegant and reliable and didn’t attract too much attention.

“If I would have to choose a vice of mine, it would probably be whiskey in the end. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much money I am willing to pay for a good bottle of whiskey.”

“Okay, you are a decent guy with a brain of Tesla and almost as little bad attributes as me,” Bryce sighed dramatically. “Do you at least snore?”

“Okay Bryce, now you are just nosy,” Aurora laughed. “You don’t need to know that.”

“I don’t, but Chiara does! She is going to spend nights with him!”

“I already know that, Bryce,” Chiara rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t.”

Ethan lowered himself so that nobody else but Chiara could hear him and whispered: “But you do.”

She turned to him with her eyebrows raised, the silent question visible on her face.

Are you serious, Ramsey?

“Okay, I guess we should let you go for now. Next time, I’ll be asking about your teenage years, med school parties you attended, if you ever got arrested and the sex positions you prefer,” Bryce grinned, putting his hands behind his head as he leaned into the chair.

“I am not going to discuss the last one with you.”

“So you just agreed to discuss the other topics!”

“No.”

Bryce pouted at him and disappointed, added: “Okay, I won’t bring a marriage and kids up, either. I will probably leave those for Diana.”

“Diana?!” Chiara sang out. “Since when are you on first name terms with my mother, Lahela?”

“It just happened,” Bryce shrugged carelessly, finishing his glass of wine. “I told you the women can’t resist my charm. She is no exception.”

Chiara wanted to make a remark about not needing to know about the charm Bryce used on her mother, but stopped herself when she noticed how Bryce’s face was slightly pink and he still held the empty glass near his lips to hide the fact.

She knew what it was all about. Bryce Lahela was her best friend and knew all about her secrets and problems and also everything about her past. And she knew about his.

When she decided to spend her two free weeks in the summer after her intern year back home, in San Francisco, she invited Bryce to go with her. He agreed gladly and while their fourteen days in Chiara’s house, he became incredibly close with both, her mother and her younger sister Alicia.

For Bryce, Diana Ray was a mother he never had. They called each other at least once a week, he would send her postcards from all of his trips and she would send him presents for Christmas and birthday in return.

For Diana, Bryce Lahela was a son she lost six years ago. Chiara’s brother Liam, along with her father died in a car crash and being with Bryce felt like being with her brother again. And she knew that her mum felt the same way. After all those years, she had a ‘young handsome man’ to call, to care for, to be proud of again.

A pang of guilt found its way into Chiara’s chest as she realized that this whole brunch idea was Bryce’s idea and that it might have been an opportunity to roast Ethan for others, but for Bryce, it was exactly what he said it was. It was making sure that his little sister would be taken care of with the man she chose.

It was making sure that this time, Ramsey wouldn’t break her heart and leave.

‘We need to make sure that your intentions with Chiara are absolutely pure.’

He meant it.

taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #bryce lahela #chapter 17 #open heart fanfiction #sienna trinh #jackie varma #kyra santana #elijah greene #aurora emery

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

the Akatsuki's reaction to giving/receiving gifts on Valentine's Day (w romantic partner)

Deidara Is beyond flabbergasted to get a present. Never expected anything, didn’t even expect partner to know what this day WAS. If it’s candy or something edible, will open package and scarf down entire thing in one go, smiling proudly when finished. If non-edible, will wear or display or brag about so obnoxiously that the other Akatsuki vow to strangle him (and the person who gave it to him) if they have to hear about it one more damn time. Will also “remember” much later in the day that THEY have a gift for partner, as well. Partner will brace themselves for something explosive, but will instead be pleasantly surprised with a bouquet of rare and beautiful flowers, ones that Deidara would have had to go pretty far out of his way to find. Also attempts to make dinner for partner, which turns out in a fiery, explosive horror (and makes partner question whether Deidara did this on purpose). Obito Serial hugger. Will hug partner before they give the gift, as they’re explaining what the gift is, and long after they eat/put on/whatever- the gift. If none of the others are around, will remove mask and treat partner to seeing his beautiful face for much of the day. Had struggled for a long time on what to get as a gift for partner; didn’t want to do the cliche of flowers or candy. Eventually settled on an absolutely lovely hand-crafted necklace, with lots of different-colored stones, all of which with the Uchiha symbol carved into them. Partner will be awed and honored by Obito giving this to them, and will wear it secretly underneath clothes every single day. Hidan Very loud and entirely graceless. “What the fuck is this shit?!” Won’t accept the gift because “Lord Jashin doesn’t celebrate fucking Valentine’s Day! Are you trying to get me damned to hell?!” Also, upon hearing that the day is named after a Saint, Hidan’s rage will increase tenfold. “Saint?! Saint of what; ass-grabbing?? You want me to celebrate a fake Saint from a fake religion?? Here; I want you to read these Jashinist scrolls and then tell me you still believe in this bullshit.” However, partner is used to this kind of reaction from Hidan, and therefore doesn’t take too much offense to it; will eat or use gift themselves. Later that night Hidan, feeling guilty about earlier, will come up to partner and inform them that they sacrificed “(Whatever partner’s favorite number is)-people to Jashin today, in your honor.” Partner will sigh and nod. Holidays with Hidan are never easy, but they’re certainly interesting. Zetsu The plant-man isn’t really one for giving, receiving, or even understanding romantic gestures or holidays. His partner will be somebody who understands and accepts this about him, therefore the day won’t even be brought up. At the very most, he will observe other Akatsuki members giving their partners gifts or affection, and defuse that the day is special, somehow; might decide to “gift” partner some fresh entrails from their latest victim. Partner tells Zetsu they appreciate the thought, but, no thanks. Itachi Itachi will start off the day feeling a bit morose. Valentine’s Day puts his mind back at the Academy in the Hidden Leaf, and how, every Valentine’s day, his desk would be covered with boxes of homemade chocolates from all the girls. He doesn’t miss the sweets themselves, or even the attention, so much as the feeling; the feeling of being a normal kid in a normal world. A simpler time, a happier time. Before all of this pain and heartache that led him to where he is today. Partner knows that Itachi has days where his mood can’t be salvaged, and will leave Itachi alone on Valentine’s. Will come up to him the next day with a box of dango and some new flavors of tea for him to try. Itachi will put his arms around partner for a long time, ending with a soft kiss on the cheek. Then he’ll make himself and partner a pot of the tea, and the two will eat the dango together and tell each other about their days. It’s the kind of domestic atmosphere that his mother and father shared with one another, and knowing this keeps a smile on Itachi’s

face.

Konan

Konan isn’t one for gift-giving, and neither is her partner. However the two will recognize the sentimentality of the day, as well as the importance of making time for one another (Konan’s Akatsuki missions and partners own busy life don’t leave them a lot of time to spend together) so they both take a day off from their respective missions to be with each other. Nothing very fancy; likely just a low-key day of relaxing, napping, maybe taking a nice walk or having a swim together.

Sasori

Sasori thinks Valentine’s Day, as well as all holidays, are a pointless waste of time. His partner knows this, but will still feel bad if they didn’t get him anything. So they casually walk into Sasori’s workshop while he’s putting together a new puppet, and leave a container of rare oil, one that Sasori has been trying to find for months, at the puppet master’s elbow. Sasori doesn’t respond to or acknowledge this, which partner had expected. What they DON’T expect is, later in the day, they walk into their room and find a small box on their pillow. They open it, and inside is a miniature puppet, small enough to fit in their hand, that is a near-perfect replica of themselves. Eyes, nose, lips; even the light scatter of freckles across the cheeks. A tiny card is also in the box; no words, just a neatly-drawn heart with an S in the middle. Partner will see Sasori later in the day, but, knowing Sasori isn’t one for physical affection, will simply nod at them and smile. Sasori will reward partner with one of their rare tooth-bearing smiles, and the two will spend the rest of the day in sweet contentment.

Kakuzu

If Kakuzu’s partner is waiting on the cantankerous old grump to buy THEM a gift, then they’re out of luck. This is the same guy who once cut off his own frost-bitten toe with a dull kitchen knife rather than spend money on going to the hospital and getting a proper amputation; so partner sure isn’t waiting on flowers or candy. However, Kakuzu is not as mean as he presents himself; at least not to his partner. Partner will remember all of the nice things Kakuzu has done for them in their relationship, and, even though the probability of them receiving a return gift is very slim, will still give him something. Nothing flashy or fancy; they will most likely knit Kakuzu a new sweater or a warm pair of socks, something practical that didn’t cost much to prepare. Kakuzu will act gruff at first ... but it’s guaranteed he will wear that sweater or those socks until they fall off his body. In return, Kakuzu will prepare a meal for his partner (with food that was already in the house, of course) and the two will have a quiet, pleasant evening with one another.

Kisame

Never expected to even HAVE a partner, let alone have the need to remember what he’s told is a romantic holiday. Would have just let the day go by if not for Itachi repeatedly reminding him about it. Knows that partner has a fondness for cats, so, even though Kisame is somewhat afraid of felines himself ((he IS a fish, after all) will procure a cute little kitten for his partner, as well as (again thanks to Itachi’s practical reminders) food and toys for it. Partner is overjoyed and spends much of the day hugging and kissing Kisame, as well as coaxing him to make friends with the animal (who partner names Kisame Jr.) Will make Kisame a delicious shrimp and crab gumbo, which he (and Kisame Jr) will chow down on together.

Pein (Nagato)

Valentine’s Day? Ah, another trivial mortal holiday. No time to waste on — but wait. Nagato’s partner is a mortal, and as silly as the day is, their partner has sacrificed a lot for them, so they deserve something. Gift exchange will likely come on the form of rare-gem jewelry, with Pein gifting a bracelet, and partner, a new necklace. Partner will travel to see the actual Nagato, something which is a very rare event, and the two will spend an afternoon with each other.

#the akatsuki #valentine’s day #sasori #deidara #obito uchiha #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #zetsu #hidan #kakuzu #konan #nagato

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captain-barnes-writes · 3 years

Text

Someone Like You [6/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part 6]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Lots of fluff (FINALLY), cuteness, language, unprotected sex🥴, SMUT. 18+.

NOT PROOFREAD (any tips, suggestions, comments are greatly appreciated.)

Word Count: 4k

Your eyes scanned the large silver mirror against the wall of your bedroom. The oregold-yellow of the sun melted away to a bright peachy hue as it began to set. The remaining brightness of the outside entered your bedroom through the large ceiling window illuminating your silhouette. Lips pursed in confusion and orbs ogled over the odd ensemble that you were wearing. A short baby pink wig, the only one you owned, black cable knit sweater, jeans and black Chelsea boots. A meticulously drawn mole above your lip put the garb to completion. You looked like a completely different person.

You were thrown into a hole of confusion when Sebastian told you to wear your best disguise for your date before he left the night before. At first you’d felt the feeling of confusion swallow you as you pondered over what to wear, then it dawned on you that people would possibly recognize the both of you if you were to be out and about in New York City. This was possibly one of the best ways to keep under wraps whatever was going to happen between Sebastian and you. You’d both just gotten out of relationships anyway, it seemed best to be discreet.

It was too early to make any rash decisions or have any expectations. You wanted to do things differently this time. You didn’t want to end up in a world of hurt yet again. And quite frankly, you’d just gotten out of a relationship and while it had been very short-lived, it had still been one regardless of its quick expiry date.

It was also too early to give into Sebastian. You wanted to test the waters. Though you felt as if you were contradicting yourself when only a few days ago you’d seen him for the first time in almost two years and fallen puddy to his arms. Even had sex in a damn closet for god’s sake. You knew the effect he had on you, such a hold on you it scared you beyond belief. But you wanted a different outcome this time and needed to keep the yearning need within you on check.

When Sebastian knocked on your door, you felt yourself getting nervous all over again. You knew it wasn’t his intention to do so, he was just taking you out on a date to god knows where and the jitters that ran through your body had you chastising yourself. Begging yourself to calm down and to simply go open the door for the man. When you did, the nervousness had been subdued dramatically and instead laughter had left your mouth at the sight of Sebastian.

“What...What is that?” The laughter was uncontrollable as you both pointed at each other’s disguises. Him pointing at your wig and you at his stomach and fake mustache. Instead of the usual strong and taut stomach, a protruding belly had replaced it. It seemed soft and like he’d gained weight overnight. The mustache was chevron shaped and it had you grasping at your ribs as the laughter wouldn’t stop.

“This--” He paused, pointing at the bulging belly. “This is the fat pack I had to wear when I shot the Devil All the Time and I kind of stole it on the last day of set. The mustache I actually bought on the way here.”

You giggled again, finding it wholesome and hilarious all at once to see Sebastian with the extra weight on the belly and the odd mustache. He was wearing dark wash jeans and an oversized olive jacket that would probably be tight if he were to zip it up all the way.. You wondered what movie he was talking about because you hadn’t kept up with his work. He must’ve noticed when your lips pursed.

“You haven’t watched it huh?” He asked, hint of a smile on his clementine lips.

“Ah, no actually.” You responded sheepishly.

“Well, how about this? After our date we can watch it.”

“That’s if the date goes well.” You teased. Hopeful gleaming eyes looked up at the handsome man before you. Despite the awful costume he donned, he still looked handsome. His cerulean eyes were always your favorite thing about him anyway and they shimmered with the laughter-induced tears.

“Shall we?” He smiled as he offered his arm to you.

“We shall.”

The drive to whenever he was taking you was quite short. It was also filled with a small amount of silence, and conversations that felt comfortable. It didn’t feel awkward at all as you’d thought it would. It had been so long since the last time you’d both talked, like really talked. It felt...nice. It also felt different from that of your past relationship and the nature of it.

He drove with both hands on the wheel though all he wanted to do was reach for your hand and hold it. He sneaked a few glances at you and when you noticed it, your cheeks became hot and a miniscule smile took upon your face. You didn’t know where he was taking you, didn’t try to even determine where seeing as he always had surprises up his sleeve.

When he parked the car and made his way to open your side of the door, you were met with confusion and an angst to know where he was taking you as you were surrounded by so many buildings. You were in the middle of New York City, the beautiful city bustling around you. It wasn’t until you got out of the car that you felt the cold nip at your skin and your eyes immediately caught sight of the iconic christmas tree. He’d brought you to the Rockefeller center.

You smiled widely at him before you both began the short trek to the center. He was next to you, his arms touching yours and you suddenly felt so giddy. Felt like a little girl who was next to her all-time crush and was going on her first date with him. You also felt irrevocably happy that instead of taking you to a fancy dinner date, he’d opted for something more simple. Walking deeper into the large center, the white twinkling lights wrapped around the many trees gleamed underneath the darkening sky. Silver and gold flags swayed with the bitter December wind and you couldn’t help but feel more than content looking at the skating rink down below.

“We’re ice skating?”

“Is that ok?” Sebastian inquired softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you. He seemed worried that this wasn’t the date you were hoping for and you tried to soothe his worries by placing your hand on his right arm.

“Yeah, I love it.” You beamed. “But just letting you know I’ll probably eat shit because I’m not a good skater at all.”

“Neither am I.” He laughed loudly, his left hand coming and taking hold of the one you’d placed on his left arm.

“Come on, I bought our tickets in advance.” And with hand entwined in his, he pulled you forward. The heavy human traffic in the rockefeller center was almost claustrophobic. It made you glad he’d already gotten the tickets to avoid the long lines that wrapped around the center.

Sebastian almost struggled to sit down on the bench to put the skating shoes and you’d held back a laugh. He’d probably used the fake belly for months to film, but he had probably not worn it to this extent. It looked so soft and even cute on him. You stopped looking at him and focused on putting your own skating shoes. You felt excited and nervous to be on the rink because you really didn’t want to fall in front of him. But that would be inevitable.

When you did make it on the rink, legs wobbly as they tried to find their footing on the ice. Sebastian himself seemed to be struggling to find his balance so he held the rail that surrounded the rink. His eyes found yours and you wanted to hang on to the railing as well and your eyes probably seemed desperate so he extended his arm for you to take. Before you could even take it, you were already on the icy floor. You slightly shrieked when you felt the thick material of your jeans become wet with the ice.

“I told you I wasn’t good.” You huffed finally reaching for his arm. He brought you to the railing with him and burst into fits of laughter as he took in the disheveled state you were in not even a minute into skating. You joined in as well feeling so light and content despite the ache on your bottom. You proceeded to move on the rink, hands still secured on the railing. Then Sebastian got gutsy and had you both moving without the aid of the railings, hands intertwined.

You skated for more than half an hour, both falling numerous times. Both of your pants donned wet spots from the ice, faces carrying different hues due to the bitter cold of New York. Despite being so cold, you felt utterly warm too because the date felt so natural. The small talk and actually getting to know each other all over again while you both skated and even off the rink when both your frames walked around the many bodies of people to find some much needed hot chocolate.

You found a quaint cafe and found warmth in a small booth with hot chocolate and donuts. Small talk had turned into full on conversations that lasted for so long. You talked about past projects you’d both worked on, future projects and life in general. Lingering eyes, flushed cheeks and unerasable smiles were the highlight of the booth talk. You found this far more romantic than being in a high-rise building having a fancy dinner. This is what romance felt like to you.

“Why are you still smiling?” You giggled as Sebastian’s eyes were locked with yours, the chevron mustache still stuck to his handsome face. It still seemed silly, but it was growing on you.

“Because I’m so happy that you’re here with me.” He was looking at you with those blue eyes you loved so much. You’d missed him so damn much and couldn’t help but look down at your empty cup of hot chocolate before they made their way up again to meet his. His body slightly leaned over the table and his eyes had strayed to look down at the fullness of your lips. He wanted to taste the chocolate off them, wanted to seal the night with something he’d been yearning for all this time. But he wanted you to want it too and you did. So badly. With gleaming eyes, you leaned forward too and lips met in the middle. Both plush against one another, soft and warm. It was sweet, tasted like chocolate and mints and left you both reeling when it came time to pull away.

With a bite of your lip you replied, “ I’m happy that we’re both here. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I think the date went so well that we can watch the Devil All the Time.”

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. It had all been a blur. A pure haze in the midst of work and the blossoming relationship between Sebsatian and you. He’d been away for months filming his latest movie and you’d been away from home as well working. Your source of communication was through the phone. Daily calls or facetimes with a flood of messages. Small care packages sent back and forth filled with favorite snacks, letters and silly Polaroids. And the heartwarming dark chocolates with bouquets of roses that always found their way to you from his part. Despite the distance, it was all surreal.

Before that you’d spend any time you could together. Dates filled with lowkey locations, exploring even more of New York or taking walks through its many parks. At times even staying in to order takeout and watch old movies together. It hadn’t gotten to the point of being fully physical. Sexual tension was always present, thick and heavy between the both of you yet you only shared heated kisses on your couch or his couch during movie nights.

What you both shared seemed to transcend the point of solely being physical. There was an obvious connection, a level of emotions that you both shared for each other. Warm and real. It was different this time and you both knew it.

Now back in New York again, you sat in your living room anxiously waiting for his arrival. He’d be back at any time and all you wanted was to wrap your arms around him. Feel his warmth coursing through you, smell the heavy scent of his cologne.

The knock on the door made you jump to your feet. Bare feet padding on the tile & pulling the front door of your apartment open. And Sebastian stood there with the biggest toothy grin on his face. The little crinkles on his eyes were prominent and his right front tooth was slightly larger than the other and you found yourself staring at him longingly. Loving his imperfections because it was him, it was sebastian. Your Sebastian. You jumped in his arms, feet wrapping around his waist.

“I missed you too baby.” He laughed teasingly, his own arms snaking around your waist to hold you up. He planted a long kiss on your lips. It was filled with so much want, with months of pent up desperation for you. He blindingly walked into your apartment with you wrapped around him, lips still connected and managed to close the door with his back against it. You didn’t even want to let go of him but you had to in order to get some much needed air. When your feet finally plopped back on the ground, you peered over his whole frame and felt the familiar sensation tingle in your most sensitive area. He looked so good.

“I missed you so much.” You confessed, doe eyes staring at the breathless man before you. “Seb, I know you just walked in here but I--I need you to make love to me.”

Sebastian looked stunned as he stared at your flustered self. He thought it would take a little bit longer to take that next step in the relationship, but you needed him now. He could see it on the hotness of your cheeks and the hooded eyes. He needed you just as much as you did him.

“You sure?”

“Yes baby, please.” God, you were begging. Less than five minutes of being in his presence and you were already melting at the sight of him. Wanting every inch of him, to touch him and feel him. Within seconds, your lips were already attached to his. An eager and passionate kiss that spoke volumes of your need for each other. The yearning pent up frustration that had been building up for months but could finally make its way to reality.

While you both pedaled backyards to your bedroom, you proceeded to peel your clothes away in a haste leaving a trail from the living room to your bedroom. His clothes were strewn about the floor of your room as he pushed you on the bed, your bare back meeting the soft material of your sheets. You watched as he pushed the black hugo boss boxers down and his heavy cock sprung free from the constraining material. He was rock hard already, the veins on the shaft noticeable.

His heated body was on top of you in a flash, soft lips on yours joined in an ardent kiss. He felt so good on top of you, hands touching you everywhere as if he didn’t know where to start. As if he didn’t know where he wanted to touch you first. He made sure to massage the fullness of your breasts and perky nipples before he took one in his mouth. Tongue caressing the erected nub and making sure to give attention to the other one with hand.

He groaned when his large hands ran down the side of your body and found its way to the place he most wanted to delve into. He began rubbing circles on your clit, knowing just how to do it perfectly. He still knew your body like the back of his hand, knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it. His fingers entered you and you choked back a moan. His fingers were so long and they pushed in and retracted with so much conviction, speeding up and slowing down just to get a reaction out of you. His fingers felt so good, but you wanted his cock to be buried inside you already.

“I’m gonna show you how much I want you.�� Sebastian uttered as he looked down at the mess that you were because of him.

His forehead was creased in concentration, eyes laced with lust as his lips made their way to your neck sucking and biting at the soft delicate skin. Not only were the words of what he was going to do to you slipping out of his mouth so sexy but the sensation of his lips and teeth on your skin combined with his cock teasing your entrance had made you a moaning mess underneath him. When his hands stopped their assault on your pussy and grabbed a tight hold of your waist, he made sure to look at you as he pushed his hips forward. His thick cock pushed inside your entrance slowly, stretching you so good it burned. Your face had broken into a heavenly sight for him; mouth agape with a guttural moan pushing out and eyes looking intently into his blue ones.

“Fuck Seb…” you mewled, eyes breaking contact as they shut in delight. Your hands were at his shoulder grasping onto dear life as he continued stretching you slowly. You felt so full. You’d missed how big he was and how much you loved the burn you felt whenever he was inside you. The last time had felt just as good, but this was different. It was a step into a new direction, trekking a different path that you realized you both wanted.

As soon as he’d filled you to the hilt he retracted his hips and slammed forward causing a loud yelp to escape past your lips. You gripped him so tightly, constricting him making him groan. He’d missed you just as much. He took his time with you, continuing with shallow and slow pumps into your warm core. Your soft mewls were driving him insane, he’d missed the sound of them too. It had been too long and he wanted to relish this moment with you. His lips had captured yours and it became a clash of teeth and tongue, it was desperate and passionate.

His slow torturous movements had transformed into rough thrusts and your moans were echoing in the large bedroom. It was egging him on to make you louder, make you feel all the desperation he was feeling through harsh thrusts. He was fucking you so good your eyes were tightly shut, but he wanted you look at him and so the hand that was not keeping you in place at your hip found its way to your jaw, gripping it.

“Look, baby. Look at the way I’m fucking you.” Your eyes fluttered and opened up again despite the heaviness of the situation. His steel-blue eyes were boring into yours and his pleasure-stricken face broke into a smirk. God, he’d even missed your pretty eyes.

His grip on your jaw tightened as he forced it down, making you look at the mess he was making further down. His hips were pushing forward in deep thrusts, his cock was slick with your juices as he slid out all the way and inched his way back in again. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other and your wooden headboard hitting the wall was echoing in the room and when your legs wrapped around him he found himself lost in your crevice. He was unbelievably deep; you could feel all the ridges and veins his shaft was blessed with.

Your shuddering body was a mess underneath him, hands fisting the thin white sheets. He sucked on the side of your neck, roughly nibbling at the skin and surely leaving behind red marks, before his hand replaced his lips and began applying slight pressure on it. You loved being choked. Your clit was pulsating, the friction of him fucking into you and the pressure of his hand on your neck was getting you closer to the edge and he could sense it as you clenched around him eliciting loud groans from the deepest parts of him.

“Fuck I’m so close.” You moaned, eyes alternating between fluttering close and opening again. The pressure on your throat wasn’t too restricting, but it brought a sense of excitement. The heat was pooling in your stomach, ballooning and building to what you knew would be a delicious finite.

“Come on, baby, Milk me. Milk the fuck out of my dick.” And you did, with the same arduous pace he kept and the breath constriction, you milked him for all he was worth. Shaking, tightening around his dick, the loud yet breathy moans falling loose from your lips. Voice so hoarse you knew it would hurt to speak later on. Your hands had tangled in his hair as he brought his lips to yours, legs falling slack as your orgasm had weakened you beyond belief.

Sebastian’s own orgasm was nearing, his pace had picked up. Relentless, rough and precise as the mess below egged him on. The pure sight of you alone egged him on.

He couldn’t believe he was touching you, kissing you and that he was so close to cumming because of you. You were the very essence of his being right now, delirious with your presence, on overdrive because of your body. You were a fucking goddess and he was showing you just how much he’d missed you. How much he wanted this, you and him together.

He was so rough now, his hands everywhere groping at every inch of your skin, sucking and biting on your neck, lips and nipples. Your breasts were bouncing at every thrust, pornographic sounds falling from your lips, hands grasping at his hair. With a shaky and heavy thrust along with a hoarse groan, he’d removed himself from inside you and spilled his milky warm cum just below your stomach.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Your foreheads had met, both sweaty and bodies so sticky it should’ve felt uncomfortable but it didn’t.

“Mm that was too good.” You whispered softly, still reeling from the way he’d taken you and the way you were still tingling from the aftermath of it all. A toothy smile overtook his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was so handsome and finally all yours.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Was his teasing response. “Can’t wait for the next round. You thought that was all I had in me?”

“You’re kidding me. You’re not coming near me tonight again, Buddy. I’m already so sore.”

He laughed at you, hand on his chest as he looked at your bewildered expression. Despite the unruly hair, the reddish hue on your cheeks with a sheen of sweat and the unbelievably swollen lips, you were still a beautiful sight to him. A gleam of light in his life, a second chance at making things right. You were the reason his heart felt so full.

“You know I love you right?”

“Well, now I do.” You seemed flustered, but the smile that pushed its way onto your lips was everything he could have ever hoped for. With a sheepish look you replied, “you know I love you too, right?”

Someone like you belonged with him, side by side. And he’d pick back every piece he’d broken and fix them, arrange them the way they were meant to. There was no way he was letting you slip through his fingers ever again.

---------

AND that’s it for this story. Thought it was important for some fluff as well as a few months time jump to show that their connection went further than just physical. Thanks to those who stuck around to the end, I hope you guys liked it! This is actually the first story I’ve ever completed and quite frankly, I think I’ll stick with one-shots lol I’ve got more work coming up soon tho! ❄️💙

Also, credit to @writeyourmindaway for the amazing divider! She has so many more beautiful ones on her account. Here is the link to the batch of dividers😍

#Sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fic #Sebastian stan fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan drabble #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #someone like you #marvel #sebastian stan romance

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kodzuken-pie · 4 years

Note

May I request a Daichi fluff where him and his s/o wash their BIG dog together? It’s just a big mess and there’s lots of bubbles and giggles. Thank you so much !💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

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[ A/N : I pictured this so clearly in my mind like 👁👄👁 . . . And so I present this Daichi fluff for y’all ]

Pairing : ts!Daichi x reader

Warning : None

Word count : 1,953k

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- 𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒖𝒅𝒔 — — - ✰

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The sunlight filled the room, making it nice and warm. You and Daichi had been lounging on the couch with your Big Alaskan Malamute, Pepper. He had his arms around you while pepper rested his head on your lap, making you trapped between the two. Daichi had the day off and so you both decided to stay home and spend the day being lazy, binging shows and cuddling on the couch. You had closed your eyes as you wanted to savor the moment then you had an idea.

“Hey,babe?” You looked up at Daichi who had his eyes glued to the screen.

“Hm?” He hums in response, not looking away from the screen.

“Let's give pepper a bath.” You said softly, poking his chest.

Both Daichi and Pepper looked at you, making you giggle. Pepper was more or less excited, his head lifted up and his tail wagging. Daichi looked at you with an amused expression, pausing the show as he looked at you.

“What’s up with you? You don’t usually like giving pepper a bath.” His eyebrow was raised at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“I just want to bathe him, what’s so wrong with that?” You pouted, eyebrows knitting together.

“Ok, Ok! We can go bathe him.” He unwraps his arms around you then gets up. “Come on then, get your cute butt up off the couch!” He grinned at you teasingly, having both of his hands out for you to take.

You playfully stuck you tongue out at him, reaching for his hands and getting up. Pepper was circling the two of you as you got up, petting him as you made your way to the backyard. You took your big poofy sweater off then hung it on one of the lounge chairs you had outside, revealing you in your black tank top and dark blue shorts. Daichi looked at you with so much admiration, his heart making laps as he looked at you. No makeup, Hair up in a messy bun, and just in your pajamas. To him you were perfect, especially at this picture perfect moment.

“Hey, handsome! Like what you see?” You posed in a wacky manner, pointing at him with finger guns.

This made him laugh hard, hard enough to make him put a hand to his stomach. “You are so adorable!” He said in between laughs, his face turning red.

“I am to be and only be adorable!” You retorted, laughing as well.

Pepper had started running around the backyard, going back and forth between you and Daichi. You straightened up after a bit, getting your breathing under control then walking over to him. He had such a child-like smile plastered on his face, one that had made your heart go over any speed limit.

“What? You seem oddly extra happy..” You put a hand up to his chest, right where here heart was,

“It’s not that, silly little bean!” His smile grew wider. “I’m just in love, that’s all.” He placed a hand on the small of your back and pulled you closer to him.

You feel your face flare up, the heat spreading like wildfire. “Wh-wha-what?!” You stuttered out, clearly flustered.

He laughs wholeheartedly, his eyes disappearing. “Love, it’s been 8 years.”

“I-I know! It’s just..” You shied away from him, looking at your hands that were resting on his chest. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, you better.” He gives you an eskimo kiss. “Because I’ll love you until the end of time.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper.

“Oh stop that!” You sniffled, swatting his chest playfully. “Can we just wash Pepper already?” Your gaze flicked up to his for a moment before you pulled away from him, patting your thigh for your dog to lean up against.

He looked at you with such a gentle expression then he shook his head. “Yes, yes. Let’s wash Pepper now.”

He walked over to the little shack that was on the far corner of the yard, going in to grab the little utility tub that you would use when you bathed Pepper outside. You let Pepper follow you around as you took the garden hose and unspooled it from the hose reel, filling up the tub that Daichi had placed in the middle of the yard. Your dog was absolutely overjoyed as the tub filled with water, running and barking all around with her tail waving in the air.

“Yes, yes Pepper! It’s bath time for you!” You cheerfully spoke to her and she barked back, her tongue hanging the side of her mouth.

Daichi chuckled to himself at your exchange with the dog, finding it so cute. “Hey, I’m going to go grab her shampoo, ok?” He kissed the side of your head before walking back inside. “Be right back!”

“Ok! Better hurry up, because she is ready to jump in the water!” You giggled, playfully pointing the spray nozzle on Pepper only to fake her out.

He goes back in the house then re-emerges minutes later with the bottle of dog shampoo. “Alright! I got it!” He freezes as he steps out, the scene in front of him seeming to be slow motion.

You were running around, smiling and giggling so freely while your dog was chasing you. He felt his breath get taken away at the sight of you being so carefree and so happy. You stop running once you notice him, Pepper letting out little ‘gruffs’ as she hopped about.

“Come on babe!!” The smile on your face expanded, inviting him over.

He jogs over to you and without notice, you spray him with water. “Hey!” He wiped his face, arching a challenging eyebrow at you. “I see..”

He tries to pry the hose from you, only for Pepper to run in front of him and jump up into his arms. You spray them both again, Pepper seeming to be the only one entertained. He could see the mischief in your eyes so he squints at you.

“Try that again. Bet.” He challenges you, a smirk on his face.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” You return the tone, your lips curling up into a cat-like smile.

“Do it. Spray me.” He seemed to be confident even though he probably couldn’t do much with a giant dog in his arms.

You took the challenge, snickering after you spray him. You didn’t even notice that he had put pepper down and has now managed to steal the hose from you. He gives a fake evil laugh, the spray nozzle pointed at you.

“Put your hands up!” He changes his stance, smiling wickedly.

You gasp rather dramatically at this, putting your hands up in the air. “Oh no sir! I didn’t do anything, I swear!” You played innocent then put a hand up to your forehead. “Please let me go! I’m just an innocent young lady!”

“Are you now?” He pretends to put the nozzle down but then he sprays you once you’ve let your guard down.

“Hey!!” You looked at him in shock then you started giggling.

“What? You started it first, you know?” He chuckles then he waves you over. “Come on, you were the one who said to bathe Pepper.”

You nod and call Pepper over. “Come on, Pepper! In the tub!” As per command, she hops in. “Good girl!”

“Good girl, Pepper!” Daichi said the same time as you, still chuckling.

“Go ahead and wet her, I’ll grab the shampoo!” You walk over to the lounge chair where he had left the shampoo then you walk back.

You open the tube and start pouring it on your dog, lathering it up with your hands. He sprays her a little more to help with lathering up before he comes over to start washing her too.

About halfway through washing Pepper, an idea came to your mind. You giggle to yourself, peeking at Daichi for a second before scooping up a whole bunch of foam.

He notices you look at him so he squints at you. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing~” You said nonchalantly before jumping up and blowing the foam bubbles towards him.

He waved it off, making it float around in the air. “Oh, so you want a bubble war, huh?” He takes a handful of bubbles and runs around towards you, blowing it your way.

You ran around, playing ring around the rosie with him. Pepper starts barking and getting excited, shaking all the water and suds out.

“PEPPER!!” You yelled and chased her around.

“Come back!” Daichi grabbed the hose and started spraying Pepper.

Bubbles and foam flew around the air, the atmosphere looked like it was from a movie scene. Time seemed to have slowed and it was like a sweet melody played in the background. Your hair flowed beautifully in the air, yours and his laughter mixed. He chased after you, dropping the hose to wrap you around his arms. The both of you tumbled on to the ground, a big laughing mess. He kept you safely in his arms, laying on your sides.

“I would definitely want to bathe Pepper all the time now!” You wiped your face clear of random suds, laughter slowly dying down.

“Really?” He asked, a bit perplexed.

“Yeah! I mean as long as we bathe her out here!” You beamed up at him.

“I guess that’s what we’re going to be doing from now on!” He returned the smile,

You raised both of your hands up in the air, your face radiated happiness and he loved it. He relished in this exact moment. Bubbles still flew in the air and off to somewhere far away, the grass brushing up against both of your exposed skin. The two of you faced each other, both looking at the other very lovingly.

“My pretty girl.” He tucked your hair behind your ear.

“My handsome man.” You purred at his touch.

His eyes remained on yours, looking deeply into them. You closed the space between you and gave him a chaste kiss, tracing his jaw with your finger. He hummed as you kissed him while you smiled against his lips.

“I still can’t believe it’s already been eight years.” You said softly after pulling away.

“Don’t forget, we’ve been married for half of those years.” He rested his forehead on yours.

You giggled then rubbed his nose with yours. “It’s still surreal to me, being called Mx. Sawamura.”

“It has a nice ring to it though.” He smiled wolfishly.

“It really does..” You traced little shapes on his chest.

“Hey.” He swiped your cheek with the back of his hand and you hummed in response. “I love you.” A soft smile grazed his features.

“Hey.” You tapped his nose again and he scrunched it up. “I love you too.” You giggled lightly, the corners of your eyes closing.

“I love y-“ He gets cut off by Pepper who is now laying in between you two.

You start laughing again, your arms up in the air. Pepper whined, licking Daichi’s face. He petted her head while you rubbed her tummy. Laughs and giggles filled the air again, amusement surrounded by love.

“Ok, ok! Let’s get this good girl washed now, shall we?” He patted her head then got up.

“Let’s!” You took his hand and got up. “Then it’s our turn?” You looked at him bashfully.

“After we dry her but yes, our turn later.” He smiled softly at you.

You finished up bathing your dog and cleaning up. The rest of the day was spent loafing and relaxing in each other’s arms. The warmth spreading around, encasing the place with nothing but love.

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Note

i hate that i didn't say hi in that last request. HI hazel what do you think about!! "MY MOM KNITTED YOU A JUMPER" for malum? that sounds like the malum i love!! love u <3

hello hello hello here you go!

Ficmas Day 4

Rating: General Audiences

Read on AO3

Christmas in London is very different from Christmas in Australia. For one thing, there’s snow on the ground. It’s not much, tramped over by boots and mixed with the dirt to create sludge along the streets, but it’s still present on the ground. For another thing, it’s cold. Australian temperatures can dip down in winter, but by December it’s warm again, summer sun heating skin from the moment you step outside. It’s strange to be at the end of December and have to put on a coat outside. It’s also a little colder than Australia ever gets, and Michael finds himself seeking out blankets inside the house and shoving beanies over his hair before he sets foot outside.

It’s also different because Liz is the only parent around. All of them had to barter extensively with their parents to convince them to even let them come to London, and once they realized they probably wouldn’t have Christmas together it prompted a new flurry of discussions about the exact timeline of the move. In the end, professional interest won out over familial traditions, and Michael isn’t upset about heading to London early, but he’s careful not to mention the ache of loneliness in his stomach when he calls home.

He’s not really lonely. He has Calum, Luke, and Ashton, and Liz ensures that they all eat actual meals and get enough sleep and always have someone to turn to when they need a motherly hug. They have a little fake tree with some lights and generic ornaments on it, and Liz has been snatching packages as soon as the post delivers them, shifty about the contents inside. Michael isn’t worried about gifts, because being in London is his Christmas present, and it’s kind of nice to get the full Northern-Hemisphere-Winter-Experience shown in all of the movies.

It would be worse if he didn’t have Calum. It would be worse if he didn’t have all of them, but Calum has always felt like home in a way that few other people ever will. He’s been Michael’s best friend through thick and through thin, and he’s the one who brought Luke into their life and who’s agreement to do the band kick-started their process. Michael can always count on him to cheer him up on bad days and share his happiness on good ones, and living in London is a lot like an extension of the sleepovers they’ve been having since before they hit double-digits. The biggest difference is that they’re in separate beds rather than piled sleeping bags on the floor.

On Christmas Eve, Michael wakes up late and spends a long time laying in his bed, debating whether he should bother getting up or let himself melt into his mattress. Luke and Liz had plans for the day that they had suggested dragging everyone else along for, but Luke’s bed is empty and Michael can’t hear other activity in the house, so they probably left already. Michael doesn’t mind. He’s been tramping around London a lot lately, and a day to recharge is fine with him.

When his stomach finally growls, he heaves himself out of bed, throwing back the covers and shivering at the change in air temperature. He needs socks. He needs long sleeves. It's winter in England, and that is not conducive to getting out of bed right now.

He manages to find socks that smell clean and a t-shirt that seems passable. Hunger pushes him towards the kitchen before an acceptable hoodie can be found, but he can always sneak into the other room and steal one of Calum's. Calum's hoodies tend to be some of the most comfortable, and he guards them carefully. He always lets Michael keep it on if he's caught wearing one, though, which is more than can be said for the other two.

Calum enters the kitchen once Michael's toast pops. Michael has an irrational fear that the toaster popping will startle him bad enough to bite the tip of his tongue off, so he's partially thankful that Calum makes his appearance then and distracts him, even if his presence startles him more than the toast ever could.

"I didn't know you were home," he says in answer to Calum's raised eyebrows.

"Liz took Luke and Ashton. They'll be gone all day."

"Doing what?"

Calum shrugs. "I think Liz is still getting presents for the family to send for New Years and wanted Luke to help. Ashton just likes being out of the house."

Ashton is probably trying to find gifts for his own family. Michael already sent some kitschy souvenirs for his parents, although they haven’t reached Australia yet. He'll get them something better later, when he actually figures out what they would appreciate.

"Toast?" he offers.

"I'm making noodles," Calum says.

"Can I have some?"

"Yeah, okay."

Michael hums and slumps against him. Everyone should have a Calum in their lives. He's a space heater and a chef and a great bassist rolled into one, and he's pretty low maintenance. Michael only has to give him undying love to get all of the perks.

They keep a comfortable silence while Calum cooks and Michael eats, enjoying existing together rather than filling the air with mindless chit chat. Michael takes a shower when he finishes his toast, and Calum has the noodles ready when he's done. After lunch, they migrate to the living room, taking advantage of the empty house to finally play Fifa uninterrupted. Calum wins more than Michael, but he's not mad about it however much he pretends to be. Calum is often humble to a fault, so Michael is happy to let him rub these victories in his face.

Calum goes to check the mail while Michael gets more snacks. He comes back with two packages, one that he distractedly puts on the couch and another that he looks at curiously. It's bigger than a shoe box, taped together securely over some colorful paper.

"What's that?" Michael asks.

"From my mum," Calum says. "Your mum sent Liz something."

"What? What is it?"

"I don't know," Calum says. "It's a crime to open someone else's mail."

"But it's from my mum."

"Maybe she and Liz gossip about you. If it's meant for you, you'll get it tomorrow."

Michael pouts. Calum is, unfortunately, very resistant to his pouting. He also takes the package and makes Michael put it in Liz's room before Michael can get too curious and start shaking it. He could still peak, but then he'd have to contend with Calum's disappointed face. That's not something anyone should have to face on Christmas Eve.

"Michael!" Calum calls from the living room. "Get out here!"

"Why?"

"Mum sent you something!"

Michael leaves the package on Liz's bed and tramps back to the living room. Calum grins and holds up a dark blue sweater with two white stripes stretching around it.

"My mum knit you a jumper!"

"For me?" he asks. Calum nods enthusiastically.

"Put it on," Calum says. "She wants a picture."

He holds out the jumper, letting Michael slip his hands in the arms and helping him pull it over his head. It's a little big, spacious and comfortable, and the yarn is soft. Michael doesn't know the difference between any of the stitches, but they're fun and feel fancy.

"She said she made it big so we can grow into them."

Calum pulls another jumper out, just like Michael's except in green. When he puts it on, Michael resists the urge to help fix his hair, unruly from the static.

"I can't believe your mum knit me a jumper," Michael says.

"She's going to do one for Luke and Ashton, too, but she wanted to get yours done quickly. She said you're an ice cube in our winters, so she was worried about how you were handling this one."

Michael feels a rush of affection for Joy Hood. The entire Hood family is his favorite family besides his own, even without considering the fact that Calum is his favorite person.

Calum snaps a selfie, tilting his phone so they both fit in frame. Michael presses close, faces centimeters away, and ensures that his grin is bright and happy, trying to push as much gratitude into one picture as possible. Calum doesn’t step away while he sends it and Michael once again leans against him.

“Tell her I love it,” he says, looping his arms around Calum’s waist. He slips his hands under the hem of Calum’s shirt and presses them against his stomach, making him squirm and swear.

“Get your icicle hands off me!” he laughs, but Michael has a grip now and doesn’t let him go until they’re tumbling onto the couch in a tangled, giggly mess.

“Still want to play another round?” Calum asks once he catches his breath. Michael considers it, but he can’t properly cuddle with Calum if he has to hold a game controller, so he shakes his head.

“Movie?” he suggests instead. Calum shrugs and grabs the remote, shutting down the game and switching the input so they can browse through Netflix. Michael stretches out and Calum fits himself against him, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover their legs. It’ll probably get too warm about thirty minutes into whatever they decide to watch, but for now it’s perfect. Michael tucks himself lower into his sweater and pulls Calum closer to him, savoring every piece of warmth he can get.

#my writing #malum #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020 #hey did you guys know that I love malum #because I do!#also apologies Taylor I got this out later than I wanted and you might be asleep? or getting ready to sleep?#if so hope you enjoy getting this gift in the morning #fun fact I looked up whether Australia says sweater or jumper #it seems like jumper might be it?

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jamielea81 · 4 years

Text

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 6

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing and some fluff

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 4,625

Catch up with Chapter 5

Laying in the guestroom of Chris Evans’ rental is one of the few places you’d never pictured yourself being. The décor was very hotel chic which made sense since it was rented out by a private owner with lots of turnaround. Best to keep things neutral rather than themed. The bed was soft and the linens were plush so you could not complain.

It was such a weird feeling to be in his space but not be with him. He was essentially somewhere in the condo and you were here. In a room. Doing your own thing. Or resting, or whatever. He had insisted. Who were you to complain about more sleep? Wasn’t like you could work. Chris confiscated your well used script and laptop once he gave you a brief tour of the place.

“If you’re in such a hurry to get back to work, you have to get better. No sense in tiring yourself out and being sick longer. That’s just more missed days.”

Damn him and his common sense.

You put your phone on the dresser that was located across the room from you before snuggling back on the bed. Out of sight out of mind.

Apparently, you did manage to sleep as your eyes slowly opened to a dark room. It felt colder although you aren’t sure if the temperature in the condo has dropped due to the setting sun or this mystery virus sending a chill to your bones. Either way you’re cold and you realized your error of not packing a sweatshirt. The sweater you had on was warm, but it was thin and not as cozy as you would have liked.

Getting out of bed, you ran your hands through your hair to tame it as best as you could. You shrugged on your coat that you left on the bench in front of the bed and made your way out of the room.

The TV was on ESPN or the like in the distance as you heard a list of scores for some sport or another. If you were being honest, your brain wasn’t all the way there, so you really didn’t care.

“Oh, hey,” Chris said, sitting up from is half laid down position on the couch. His eyebrows and forehead scrunched low in confusion. “You going somewhere?”

“I’m just kind of cold. Should have packed a sweatshirt or two,” you said, taking a seat at the end of the couch, your hands going into your pockets.

Chris gets up from his spot on the couch, walking to the hallway to check the temperature. “It’s seventy-two in here. Want me to bump it up?” he calls out.

“Seventy-two? Would have guessed it’s sixty.” You shake your head even though he can’t actually see you. “No. No, it’s fine.”

He comes back in the room stopping in front of you. Chris’ hand reaches down, hesitant at first, until his palm touches your cheek. Damnit if your breath doesn’t catch in your throat. He removes it quickly, touching your forehead with the back side of the same hand.

“You’re a…,” he licked his lips, taking a deep breath in. “You’re a little warm,” he said withdrawing his hand. “You need a sweatshirt! I’ll grab you one,” he shouted, practically running away.

Chris Evans was going to be the death of you. The two of you are friends but you can’t help but let your mind wander to that space that says maybe there’s something more. But this is your whole life. This is your career. You’re finally making enough money that you can actually put some away. You no longer have to sling beers to make ends meet. It’s a real adult job and now that you’re in your early thirties, it feels like what you need to do. So, what you need to do is stay focused. Besides, this whole feeling could be the fever talking.

Chris is suddenly in front of you again, apparently you had zoned out and didn’t hear him come back in the room.

“Red or blue?” he asked, holding a sweatshirt of each color in his hands.

“Can I see something in green. Perhaps a hooded number.”

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” he chuckled, throwing the blue one at you.

Tugging off your coat, you slip the sweatshirt over your head while you assume Chris is returning the red one to his room. It’s warm and cozy and smells a little like him. Not that you’ve smelt him. You’ve just picked up on his cologne when he’s near you. Yeah, not weird at all.

Tucking your hands inside the sleeves to keep warm, you lift your feet onto the couch in a half laying half sitting position. Chris stops in front of you and gives you a small smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Looks nice on you,” he replied innocently enough.

Think about your fake fiancé, Y/N.

“Well then, I may just keep it,” you shrugged.

He plopped himself down one cushion away from you on the couch, his body bouncing a bit when he landed. “Well, duh. You got your germs all over it.”

Clanging noises from the kitchen woke you. Apparently, you had fallen asleep again, you just weren’t sure how long you were asleep. You eased your body off the couch and padded your way into the kitchen.

“Hello sleepy head,” Chris greeted you before turning back to the stove. “I made you some soup. Had to call my ma to get the recipe.”

How is this guy single?

“You called your mother for a soup recipe?” you asked, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

“Course! You’re sick. Soup always makes me feel bettah.”

“What did you tell your ma?” you asked in the best accent you could muster.

“I told my ma that my friend was sick and I wanted to make her soup,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Do you tell your mother everything?”

“I do. So, watch yourself Y/L/N,” he replied with eyebrows raised, giving the pot another stir. “Go relax. I’ll bring you a bowl in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, walking back into the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

Dinner actually ended up being quite good. Chris knew what he was doing in the kitchen, much to your surprise. You ended up eating two bowls of soup. Skipping lunch and sleeping all day apparently amped up your appetite. The warm broth helped warm your body, even if it was only temporary.

You tried your best to stay awake to visit with Chris. He was telling you stories about his family and from what you could remember, they sounded like a close-knit group. But this darn virus was keeping your energy level at zero. When you had dozed off on him twice, Chris ordered you to bed and you willingly went without complaint. You kept the sweatshirt on. Strictly for the warmth of course.

Knocking on the bedroom door woke you the next morning.

“Come in,” your groggy voice called. You were honestly too tired to get out of bed despite all the sleep you managed to get yesterday and overnight.

Chris walked in, sticking close to the door. “How are you feelin’?”

“I’ll live.”

He chuckled at your response.

“What?” you asked, voice coming out a little whiny.

“Just sound so cute,” he shrugged his shoulders. Your mouth dropped open. In shock? In protest? You weren’t sure. “You’re so stuffed up.”

He wasn’t wrong, but still. Cute? Pfft.

“Well, yeah. I’m sick.”

Damn. I really am stuffed up.

“Which is why I called you out for the day,” he said, walking over to the window and opening the blinds.

“Chris…”

“Y/N…”

“I can’t miss again. They’re going to fire me.” You were full on whining now.

“They’re not gonna fire you,” he said crossing his arms over his chest. “They don’t want sick people there especially since you interact with a lot of key people. I already called Monica and she’s fine. Just rest today. I’m sure you’ll feel better tomorrow if you do.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “But I want my script back. At least let me take pictures of my notes to send to Monica. You need all the help you can get,” you sassed.

“Smaht-ass. I do just fine on my own.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed. “Will you please get me my script? I promise to stay in bed while you’re gone.”

“Tuck that bottom lip away missy. I’ll get your damn script. You want breakfast too?”

You gave him a small smile. “I could eat.”

Chris came home in a grumpy mood and you had no idea how to cheer him up. If he was one of your friends back home, you’d be out for drinks, but you were sick. Not to mention, with the amount of cold medicine you were taking, mixing alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea.

After the initial door slam, you came out of your temporary room to see Chris sprawled out on the couch, leaving zero room for you. It was his house, what were you going to say? You took a seat on an upholstered chair across from him, crisscrossing your legs.

When he didn’t say anything after a few minutes, you started. “Bad day of filming?”

He let out a loud breath and ran his open palm down his face. “You could say that.”

“What happened?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Can we just watch some TV for a bit?”

“Of course,” you replied. You got up from the chair, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and dropping it on the ground. You eased yourself on it, grinding your butt into it to get comfortable.

“What are you doing?” Chris sighed out.

“We’re watching TV. I’m just getting comfy.”

“Get up here!” he said, sitting up straighter with one bent leg still on the cushion.

You pulled yourself up and settled into the couch, your legs curling up sideways. Your foot touched his and he pulled back.

“Sorry!” you squeaked.

Chris muted the TV and faced you. “No, I’m sorry. Keanu said something to me today and it’s botherin’ me.”

“What did he say?” you asked softly.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Chris licked his lips. “He thinks we’re too close. Said I’m too close to you and it’s not right.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked.

You honestly were dumb founded. What a weird thing to say to someone. What did too close mean anyway? You and Chris were friends and co-workers. You were the script supervisor so you worked closely with him daily.

Chris groaned. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s cause you’re engaged.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The fingers of your right hand automatically finding the engagement ring. “I’m allowed to have friends. You’re allowed to be friends with non-single women.”

“Damn right I am,” he said more confidently.

“We’re adults. We’d know if we were crossing lines. Clearly we aren’t.” Chris nodded in agreement. “What brought that on?”

“Monica asked where you were staying. I told her my place and since Keanu was right there, he heard and brought it up to me as we were wrapping for the day.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed out. “If I thought this would have caused problems, I would have made Monica deal with my sick ass.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not worried about his opinion. It just bothers me that he thinks he has a right to interject.”

“Still…I don’t want to cause problems. Maybe I should just head back to the hotel.” You stood up and started to walk to your room. Chris jumped to his feet and was quickly right behind you.

“No. No. No. We aren’t doing that. There’s nothing wrong with you staying here,” he said to the back of your head.

You picked up your bag and put it on the bed. “Chris, it’s probably for the best. I was going back to my room tomorrow anyway.”

You grabbed the change of clothes you stored in the dresser bringing them over to the bed. Chris placed his hand over yours, stopping you from folding up the shirt.

“Just stay. Going is only going to prove his point.”

He was right. Leaving is pretty much admitting you staying there is wrong.

You grabbed on to his hand that was pressing down on yours and turned to face him. “Okay.”

He gave you a gentle smile. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

You nodded your head and followed him back out into the living room.

Back on set the next few days, Monica avoided you as much as she could. She’d text you from ten feet away to ask a question, despite sharing a room with her at night. It was insane, but if it made her feel better, you’d put up with it. You were feeling 80% better. It was just that stuffy nose that didn’t want to leave your body.

Being around Keanu felt odd all of a sudden. You tried to act as you normally would, sharing a small joke or an anecdote about something you read, but it was hard to feel at ease. Now that you knew he was watching you, you didn’t know how to act around Chris. So, you did what you probably shouldn’t do. You avoided him. Of course, you couldn’t avoid him completely since you were working with him, but when he would find you on set, you brushed him off.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, catching you while on break.

“Better,” you answered simply enough.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Yep.”

This wasn’t going to work. The last thing you needed was the studio catching wind that something funny was going on. But Chris was your friend. Becoming one of your good friends over the last month. There needed to be a middle ground.

A week later you were feeling pretty damn guilty for keeping any conversations with Chris on the professional side. If he found you to chat, you made sure someone else was with you. Often pulling Monica or David into the conversation whether they liked it or not.

Y/N: Can we talk?

Chris: Now you want to talk? Should we text Monica to see if she wants to join us?

Yeah, you deserved that.

Y/N: I’ll bring cookies.

Chris: Where? And only because you’re bringing cookies. None of that sugar cookie crap either.

You decided on the coffee shop you been frequenting since coming to town, making a quick stop at a bakery along the way to pick up a couple of chocolate chip cookies for Chris. You picked out a two-seater table away from a group of college students that seemed to be studying.

Winter made it easier for Chris to blend in, but it was never hard for you to spot him. Not with that smile that always seemed to be on display when he saw you. Dark gray wool coat with the collar popped up, red scarf wrapped around his neck twice, and black shades on his face, he thought he was in disguise. You waved him over as soon as he walked through the door. He quirked his mouth at you, knowing he was easily spied. He held up his finger indicating he was going to grab a drink. You placed the package of cookies in front of the open seat so that they were the first thing he would see.

Chris walked over a few minutes later, removing the coat but keeping the scarf in place.

“Your cookies, sir.”

“I accept your bribery. For now.”

“Thank you. It’s my, “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass” apology,” you replied.

Chris gave you a frown, bringing his to go cup to his lips and taking a hesitant sip.

“I wouldn’t say ass, but…” You took a sip of your own beverage, waiting for him to continue. “Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong because if I’m being honest, I miss my friend.”

Now you really did feel like an ass. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like he did anything wrong.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…Keanu’s comment really got to me. This is my first film with Stone Lite and if this goes well, my contract gets extended. If Keanu thinks we’re being unprofessional, who knows who else thinks that,” you replied, running your hand through your hair.

Chris nodded his head, a sullen look on his face. “I honestly don’t think they’re going to drop your contract because you and I are close friends.”

You debated about telling him your secret. He probably didn’t know about the studio’s unofficial hiring practices. But would he keep it to himself or would you find yourself without a job? You weren’t sure if this lie was something that was easily forgivable. It was starting to feel like not just a simple lie anymore. You shook your head out of your thoughts and attempted a smile.

“You probably right. I’m just being paranoid,” you said, deciding to keep your secret to yourself. “But maybe we keep our hangouts a little more private?”

Chris chuckled. “That sounds worse!”

You gasped but then chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. “Okay. Okay,” you said between laughs. “Not private, but maybe we dial down our friendship when we’re working. I mean obviously Keanu has a problem with it.”

“I don’t think we are doing anything wrong, but for your sake, I’ll keep our hangouts to myself. Does that work?” he asked, picking up his cup and taking a sip.

You gave him a genuine smile and nodded your head. “Thanks, Chris.

Chris and you did dial back a bit on the joking and hanging out on set. Most of your interactions were with other people around. It seemed to do the trick as Keanu and Chris seemed to ease back into their friendly banter and not another word was spoken over the next two weeks.

The small touches that the two of you generally exchanged were now absent and a part of you was missing it. Chris would laugh at something you would say and rest his hand on your forearm or shoulder. Now he’d shove his hand in his pocket or behind his back. When you’d discuss the script with him between takes, his hand rested on the small of your back. Now he’d cross his arms over his chest and leaned in. It was different, but respectful.

Chris no longer came to your cubical unless it were to discuss a scene that would be shot the next day. You missed your impromptu lunches spent at your desk. When the two of you did hangout, it was spent at coffee shops further away from the studio and your hotel. Uber and Lyft became your go to mode of transportation. Since Keanu and Chris lived in the same building for this film, you didn’t go back to Chris’ place much to your disappointment. Sometimes just watching a movie on a comfy couch was a lot better than doing so on your cheap hotel bed alone.

Filming was breaking for three nights and most of the crew were going home for the weekend. You were a tad bit excited to have the room all to yourself. You planned to do some sight seeing with your free time. Gastown, Chinatown, and Capilano Suspension Bridge Park despite it being winter were on your list.

Filming wrapped early in the afternoon and those not leaving until the next morning decided going out for dinner was something that should be done as a large group. You reluctantly let Monica drag you with her and two others in a Lyft headed across town to a restaurant that also served as a video game arcade. Your mind instantly went to an arcade with kids running around the space with sticky fingers, but you were pleasantly surprised to see it was an adult’s only atmosphere. Rather than ticket dispensing nonsense games, there were classic arcade machines such as Pac-Man, Ms. Pac-Man, Mortal Combat, and Super Mario Bros.

You weren’t drinking and no amount of peer pressure was going to make you budge. David bought you a drink and you quickly offered it to Lydia, one of the stylists. You grabbed a non-alcoholic drink called raspberry fizz from the bar. It looked like a fancy drink without the regret. The last thing you needed to do was drunkenly talk about your sex life again.

Chris mentioned he was coming tonight as his flight wasn’t until seven the next morning, but you hadn’t spotted him yet. Keanu was staying in town over the short break; his girlfriend Alexandra had already arrived in town for a visit. He had mentioned they wouldn’t be joining the group for dinner, but they would be by for a drink later.

Everyone sat down to order, deciding that game playing could wait until after dinner. Twenty minutes in to appetizers and conversation, Chris walked in with Maggie. They sat together at the far end of the table from you, where the only available seats were located. They looked cozy sitting close together, sharing whispers, and laughs. A small pang of jealous hit your heart. It was unexpected and for a moment you regretted not having an actual drink. He hadn’t mentioned anything between the two of them to you, but you knew of her crush on him. Besides, the two of you never really discussed your love lives besides the initial questions about Travis when you and Chris first started to get to know each other. Chris saw you starring in his direction and gave you a wave. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head before turning away. Next to you, Lydia’s in a conversation with Tim, one of the other actors, and you do your best to join in.

Your co-workers are drunk and with Chris wrapped up conversation with others, not to mention Maggie by his side most of the night, you’re ready to go back to the hotel. You bring up the Uber app on your phone and request a car. You look for David and find him in an intense game of air hockey. After he scores a point, you pull him into a side hug to say goodnight.

“You taking off already? I owe you another drink.”

“Give it to Monica. I’m good for the night. Say hi to the wife for me,” you replied as you backed away.

“Will do! See you next week,” David called a little too loudly. You were sure it was because the large number of beers he had already consumed.

You found your coat still hanging from the back of your chair at the table. You slipped it on and waved goodbye to Monica who only lifted her glass to you. You’re half way through the door when someone grasped your mitten covered wrist. Turning around, you were met with the blue eyes of Chris.

“Where are you goin’? Don’t talk to me all night and now you’re sneaking off?”

You allow him to pull you back into the warmth of the restaurant, checking your phone for the car with your free hand. Surprisingly Maggie isn’t next to him. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time she hasn’t been all night.

“I’m not sneakin’ off. You were busy,” you shrug a shoulder.

Chris stops pulling you once you reach your groups table, sitting down and starring up at you as you stand.

“Take a seat. Please.” You sigh but do as he asked. “I wasn’t busy. Always have time for you. Besides, I wanted to say goodbye since I won’t see you for a few days.”

“You looked pretty busy with Maggie tonight. Didn’t realize you guys were so close.” You couldn’t help yourself. You sounded pretty damn jealous and you would be over analyzing your words all night.

Chris scrunches up his whole face and blinks slowly once and then again. “With Maggie? She’s just a friend. Barely a friend. She needed a ride.”

“Well, Maggie thinks you’re hot. So…” You weren’t even drinking tonight so you had no excuse for your loose lips.

“That’s nice. But she’s a kid,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Not interested.”

“Okay then!” you replied a little too loudly. You take a peek at your phone and see that your car is here. You stand up quickly and hug him while he’s still seated. “My car is here. Gotta go!” Before he can even hug you back, your feet are moving. “Have a good few days back home!”

Chris texted as soon as you got into the car.

Chris: Well, goodbye to you too.

Chris: 😢😡

Y/N: I’m sorry! My Uber was here.

Chris: Trust me, there’s nothing going on with Maggie.

Y/N: It’s not my business. I’m sorry I brought it up.

Y/N: Safe travels!

Chris: Quit being a weirdo

Y/N: It’s all I know

Chris: That’s true. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Chris: Text me when you get back to your room.

Y/N: I will

The three days you had off were over far too quickly, although you did manage to hit the three tourist spots on your list. You also found a great Chinese restaurant that you wanted to eat at again a couple of more times before you wrapped in three weeks.

This week you were on night shoots again. The studio had rented out a book store and restaurant in a smaller town outside of Vancouver. Even though these were mainly interior scenes, both businesses needed to be closed in order to film.

Chris had wanted to grab coffee earlier in the day, but you and Monica had to be at the studio to meet with Hugh and his assistant to go over the two scenes filming tonight. Chris had been pretty quiet during his time off; you were pretty sure he was feeling guilty for his lack contact.

Monica and you had arrived early at the location to get situated and to match up the script with the interior of the restaurant. You were helping with wrangling the ten or so extras when Chris arrived already dressed for his scene.

“Welcome back to Canada,” you said walking up to him, Chris giving you a big grin. “Did you have a nice trip back home?”

“Always a good time when I’m home sweetheart. How about you?”

“Yep. Checked out Gastown and a couple of other places. It was nice to explore.”

“How’d Travis like it? First time here for him, right?” Chris asked.

You gave him a questioning look. “Travis wasn’t here.”

His eyebrows raised high on his head. “He wasn’t here? I thought that’s why you weren’t going home because he was comin’ here.”

“No, ah, he was working,” you quickly said.

Fuck! Why hadn’t I thought of that. Oh yeah, because you don’t actually have a freaking fiancé!

“He never visited you on set in LA, hasn’t visited here, you didn’t go home. Don’t you miss him?”

“Of course, I do, Chris,” you sighed. “It’s just hard when we’re both working. But, uh, he’s coming to visit for a couple of days next week.”

Why did I say that?!

Chris slapped a hand down on your shoulder. “That’s great! Look forward to meeting him.”

You gave him a smile and pointed back to the group of extras with your thumb before turning away from him. Grabbing your phone out of your back pocket, you quickly typed out a text to Travis as you walked away.

Y/N: I need a favor.

Chapter 7

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yojeongin · 4 years

Text

sleepless | m.yg

part: thirty four

pairings: ug rapper!min yoongi x coworker!reader

genre | contains: sex shop au, major angst, slight ending fluff, parental disapproval, slight harrasment.

summary: what was meant to be a nice fun day, easily spiraled to chaos at the hands of your shallow parents— leading to Yoongi’s breakdown...

word count: 11.8k

a/n: I left y’all handing for like almost 2 months. sorry luvz, for the angst and the wait uwu.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” In such moments of fret and deep frustration, your lips graced the crook of his neck whilst you spoke unto it. Your grip on his torso only kept getting tighter with every movement he committed, only demonstrating how scared you were to let him go.

Yoongi would be a fool to let these actions go unnoticed. Whilst he himself felt fear of the what if when it came to your family, he needed to face it— if things went as he hoped them to go, your family would be something he’d need to be in good terms with for what is left of your lives.

The TV at this point became background noise whilst you’d both held each other. His warm slightly calloused hands going under your shirt just to rub at your back. “Don’t treat me like a kindergarten kid. I’m talking with your dad, not going to school for the first time.” Chuckling to himself as he tried to ease off your nerves with his comedic words, they soon turned into a yelp when he felt your teeth softly cling to his shoulder, making his laughter louder. “Oh my god… you cannibal.”

Amused with the new nickname, your worry some expression morphed to that of a confused laughter: eyebrows knitted and mouth agape whilst you laughed in amusement. “Okay but like— you’re really warm and I don’t want to stand up even if Vivi is already here…” pursing your lips and twisting them to the side, chin lifted to where your eyes met his; Yoongi forcefully lifted his head— received with only barely grazing your lips. “How long have you kept her waiting?”

“A few minutes…”

“Ten?”

“Maybe half an hour.”

Even if his head had already fallen back against the armrest of the couch you both found yourself laying on (more like you mounting him whilst he tried to enjoy his morning of TV watching), Yoongi sighed looking at you before breaking into soft chuckles holding you closer to him. “You little, gremlin. Let’s go, you can’t keep her waiting.” Slightly annoyed with the idea of leaving on such a cold day, you lazily stood up from the position you found yourself in, Yoongi following behind not long after, standing by the door until he could open it.

“What if it gets boring? I don’t want to be sat there for hours with Mani and Vivi, they’re not that fun.” With a mocking facial expression, lips pursed to the side— Yoongi smiled at you, letting you finish putting your sweater on before opening the door to the apartment. “Don’t complain too much, you’ll end up kiss-less.” Feigning offense, in a playful manner, your hand fell flat against his ass, causing him to react by taking a hold of your wrist, staring at you with fake anger. “Just a squeeze, please...” Winking his way, his mouth agape in faux offense, Yoongi lightly shoved you out the door frame just so he could close the door behind you both, locking it with the spare key you had given him years ago.

Lovely sweet nothings were shared on the way to the elevator and down to the lobby, you showering him with playful remarks and flirtatious phrases as if the two weren’t dating already. “Let me be that guy that always asks for a free hug.” Opening his arms to signal he wanted you to hug him. There was no way you’d pass out on hugging him after being starved for years and only hugging him when both of you were at a vulnerable point. So having the availability to finally hold him whenever you wanted— you were going to take the opportunity.

Arms wrapping around his torso, pulling him closer to you, the warmth he radiated lulled you into peace, just waiting for the moment the elevator doors opened. Your peacefulness died down the moment he took revenge and slapped your own ass, running off once the doors opened.

Not like he could completely run off, of course. Your grip on his sweater made him panically yelp whilst you laughed, only pulling him closer to you. “Foul play, Min.” His whine of disapproval sent you laughing watching as he tried to justify himself even when the two of you exited the building, met with Vivi’s car right in front of it.

��y/n!—“ You hadn’t heard that voice in a while and though it was ready to scold, it held off the moment she saw who stood beside you. Was it not for the cold, she would’ve abandoned her position in the passenger’s seat but from there she sent you welcome kisses whilst receiving Yoongi with a wave. “Who’s this?” Wink in play, lip taken between her teeth, Aisha playfully remarked glad your meeting was wholesome.

Giggling at her expressions whilst shaking from the cold, you turn to point at Yoongi with a smile on your face— ignoring the layer of coldness that had settled on your face already. “Aisha, love— this is Yoongi, my… my boyfriend.” There was something so pleasing about finally saying those words. The words that you wished to freely say after realizing how much you loved him long ago.

Himself crouching down to look at her well, a smile rested on his lips. “Nice to meet you.” Shy as always, but warm nonetheless. His hand coming in contact with hers to greet them. A gentle wave to Vivi who amusedly and happy for her sister: watched. And Mani who had been forgotten by everyone due to her silence. His lips forming a minimal smile while waving at her, letting her existence be noticed. As much as she still felt resentment for being rejected— even him letting her know he noticed her existence caused the boiling blush to fill her face and her chest to ache out of frustration.

“Were you guys… busy? I mean— kept us waiting long.” Aisha didn’t know what censorship was most of the times, making her one of Vivi’s friends you actually liked or at least tolerated. Making Yoongi’s face go red, he chuckled hiding his face in the crook of your neck whilst Vivi scolded Aisha through giggles. “Stop! You’re embarrassing him.” Shrugging in her defense, Aisha laughed seeing his now red face whilst you tried to comfort him. “Okay, let’s go for real now, it’s almost twelve.” With the sound of Vivi’s voice you wanted to groan at the idea of being away from Yoongi (god damned, honeymoon stage).

Nodding towards your sister, you turned to Yoongi handing him hand warmers, trying to cram in all your thoughts out. “After you’re done can you get boxes? Only if you can though I don’t want you carrying them on the train.” Yoongi could only nod given as to how speechless he found himself to be and how quick your lips fell upon his as a goodbye. As your arms wrap themselves around his torso to prevent his departure, Yoongi playfully spanks you lightly letting you know to stop making the people in the car wait. Not only that but your sister’s and Aisha’s mocking smiles were making him grow shy.

“Stop stalling! It’s cold and you get whiny when sick, come on.” With a pout you let go of his torso, turning to the car as Aisha spoke. “She’s always whiny.” Making Yoongi chuckle, he nodded waving to them as a goodbye with a final peck to your lips, watching you get inside the car and waiting until your sister was ready to drive off.

Given to the car waiting near a stop light, Yoongi made his way to the train station, being watched by both you and Aisha. “Where’s he going?” Things were calmer now that Yoongi was gone. Your excitement or at least clingy happiness left with him so now you found yourself sitting in the backseat far from Mani and near the door. “He’s meeting with my dad.” As much as Aisha wanted to turn and face you with a cheeky smirk on her face, Vivi had begun to drive again seeing the neon green light flash. At most she saw your slanted smile that broke into a bigger one when thinking of him once again.

Your happiness of course was in contrast to Mani’s internal boiling rage. Of course she looked nervous and quiet in the outside expecting you to call her out any second, but in the inside— in the inside Mani was raging knowing that you had what she wanted. It was a never ending cycle of anger towards you and at this rate, only moments before everyone could see the demon inside of her candy smile and glossy eyes. So as Aisha kept on bothering you about how serious things with Yoongi were and Mani only talking when asked to, the girl looked out the window in order to distract herself.

“Does your mom know?” In pure unison, both Vivi and you spoke up with a fearful tone in your voice: “No!” Allowing Aisha’s tranquil state to turn into one of caution and shock. In order to shift the conversation and avoid such outbursts, the young girl (rather your sister’s age) smiled with a soft giggle to be followed by her expressive words. “It’s okay, y/n. At least we both have new men in our life... I met this guy a while ag—``Of course it all doesn’t have to be talked about. Whilst she spoke well of the folk, Vivi teased both her close friend and you for being head over heels with the men in your romantic lives. As in for Mani— the girl remained silent. Her immeasurable fear of you lashing out on her; laying out of caution.

Whilst so, as precious Yoongi terminated his stroll from your apartment complex to the train stop and from there to minutes away from the 50’s themed cafe your father wanted to meet in— he found himself standing dumbfounded by the side of the shop. The pink stained wall hitting his back as he tried to control himself. As much as he had convinced you that meeting your dad wasn’t something to worry about— Yoongi was freaking out over what your one parent would think of him. If your mother had already made up her mind of what a worthless bum he was, what would your father think of him now?

Either way he continued his path into the cafe, the cafe where the dark haired shy boy looked around through nervous eyelids. Examining his whereabouts to find one single head in the crowd of teal booths and pink plush chairs near the bar.

A big inhale and soft exhale; Yoongi walked towards the only head inside the cafe. His shoes tapping slightly against the glittered checkered floor, allowing your father to know someone was behind him. Lifting the cup of coffee up to his lips, your father looked forward questioning what Yoongi would greet him with.

“Mr. y/l/n?”

How simple.

Perking up at the sound of the young man’s voice, your father stood up with a bright smile on his face. He didn’t port his usual gray suit, instead he wore khakis with a white and blue striped polo tucked into his pants, secured with a black belt. God he was a golf father. Or perhaps something to blend in with the common man, something he forgot he once was.

“My boy!” A wide smile on his lips, the older man pulled Yoongi by the arm into a welcoming hug (Yoongi not accustomed to this wonderful treatment). Hesitantly enough he wrapped his arms lazily around the other man in a short hug. Yoongi took into account the mass difference between your mother’s and father’s treatment towards him. It was astounding to know it was a complete opposite experience let alone personality.

As the two had pulled apart, the older man motioned to the booth seat in front of him, letting a gentle ‘please (sit down).’ Slip from his lips as he watched shy Yoongi nod in agreement, sliding through the booth where he found himself face to face with your father. It wasn’t until he was to sit that he noticed the black coat lying nicely on the teal leather of the booth. With a chuckle to break the silence and awkward atmosphere, your father smiled at him again, questioning his desired drink or meal, to which Yoongi politely declined all. No matter that, your father ordered a coffee for the boy.

And so as the man chatted up Yoongi into telling him things about you, the real interesting ones had finally come to the surface. It was all smooth to say the least, Yoongi has broken out of his nervous state and now found himself enjoying the company of your father. He, for once was out of his comfort zone with someone he didn’t know— similar to when he met you.

With a sip of coffee from the mug in his hands, your father turned to Yoongi with a warm smile. “Where did you guys meet?”

To many, they most likely believed Yoongi had met you at the shop along Eunwoo, but it wasn’t as such. “There’s a manga shop near the college she went to— I’m sure you know— she would go there often at the same time, but the most we talked was when she would pay for a booklet or… or when she felt brave enough to tell me jokes…” A fond smile had placed itself on Yoongi’s lips, back collapsing with the backrest of the booth. “After that I saw her at the— other shop, I got kinda confused but seeing she was close with Eunwoo who started a week before her, I guess it was a mutual thing to work together.”

Note to self: feel disappointment in Eunwoo for dragging his daughter to that place. As of now, your father’s smile dwindled, attention fully on the man in front of him. “I guess I saw her every day when she still attended college and for longer during her shifts... even when she didn’t have classes she would always visit the manga shop and stay there until I was to start my shift at the other shop. She’s always been there for me.” His gaze dropped to his reddened hands from clutching onto the end of the seat. All caused by a euphoric tingle that graced his body when thinking and speaking of you.

“Do you really like her?” Your father’s voice made his head tilt up, a questioning smile in place but only replaced with that beaming glaze on his eyes. “I love her, I really do.” Perhaps it was the overwhelming feeling of welcoming that allowed Yoongi to be this open with a stranger, when usually he’d keep shyly quiet. With the comfort he felt when meeting your sister and the great time he had speaking with her along the kindness your father exuded towards him— the only outlier was your mother, but given that the other two were keen of him (or so it looks like) Yoongi could tolerate your mother’s hatred towards him. To say the least Yoongi was ecstatic, full of joy and hope with the future that would be between you both.

Sitting up straight, digging through his coat— your father’s words came clear to him. “Then I hope you know, your life style doesn’t come near hers. I doubt that with two jobs and music on the side you’d be able to support her in the future...” he had taken the carton of nicotine gum out, “... You’re a bright kid, Yoongi. Hard working and seem to be determined to succeed in your musical hobby, but that’s all it is— a hobby. Maybe my wife thinks you’re barley good enough for Mani but the girl did well liking you.” Counting the amount of tablets left in the tray, your father turned with a smile to Yoongi. “Should’ve tried pursuing her instead, she’s a good girl and you’re a good boy, just not good enough for my little girl.” Cynically, a smile plastered on his face as he delivered a wink to Yoongi, who’s bubbly persona prior to your father going on a tangent, had now deflated and sat against the backrest with an ache in his chest.

It was too good to be true.

Even if things had crashed down upon Yoongi, at least you were still having some fun with the other three. After multiple runs and sitting sessions inside saunas, given to Vivi’s situation; the four of you head towards the lunch area. Plans on staying longer had died the moment Vivi begun to feel dehydrated and dizzy.

With fond smiles, the lot of you stared at Vivi eat. Watching how excited she’d become with every plate placed in front of her. Was it not because you all made it obvious, she wouldn’t have shrunk in her seat with an orange tint across her cheeks. “What?” Shyly she questioned, stabbing the soft margarine in front of her to lather the toast in hand. “Care to explain?” Aisha with softness in her voice questioned, smiling at the girl she’d consider a great friend.

“I— well, yeah... I’m with child.” The squeals that left your table were enough to call the attention of those around you, even Mani had forgotten her precaution and eased at the news your sister had given. Whilst you were sitting next to her, giving her quick hugs, Aisha stood for hold your sister tight. In the meantime as things were about Vivi.

Things were going too good.

Given as Aisha didn’t leave Vivi’s side, you’d smile at the two. “It’s going to be your third, right?” Picking at the fruit given to her, Mani looked up questioning your sister. With a smile, Vivi nodded contently. “I’m hoping it’s a girl... I love the boys but it’d be nice to have a little girl. I didn’t get to play dress up with y/n when she was little since I was on my way to college when she was barely ending primary.” Nodding at her comment you turned to her, recalling how she’d always be busy with her exams and hanging out with friends when given the opportunity. She was never mean or rude like many people tend to portray older sisters, she was just— there.

“I don’t think I could ever deal with a pregnancy, but congrats.” There it was, Mani began talking more confidently. The idea of children petrifying her, hating the image that comes when giving birth. It’s not like she was one to judge the looks of others but the effects of a pregnancy wasn’t something she wanted, at least not her body. Along that Mani’s history with children hasn’t been the best, always finding herself frustrated by the minute even if the kid isn’t an obnoxious one. With such, her lips tightened, eyes widened, and her head shook taking a bite of her fruit. Received with a small ’thanks…’ Vivi turned to you, smile once again very visible.

“Mimi, how about you?”

“Huh?”

Given your focus was on your sister’s radiating happiness, you didn’t care much for what Mani had to say, so your sister’s question had caught you out of trance. “Do you want kids?”

It didn’t take Aisha long to tease you about the question, softly shoving your shoulder just to give you a wink. Letting a chuckle leave your lips, you nodded looking at your lap whilst your fingers messed with the thread that stuck out your left leg. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Obviously not now, I literally don’t know what to do in life at the moment but… eventually it’d be nice to have a family…” As said before, the relationship between you and Vivi was existent, the only thing was that— you still lacked some sort of communication, so for her to find her sister who tries to go against the image their mother wants— deep down as well wants what your mother had set out for you both (a family and a stable comfortable life) just not under her terms but yours. Of course there’s more to explain about that certain issue, but as of now the topic of wholesomeness remains.

With gentle awe’s from both Vivi and Aisha, the girl beside you smiles fondly. “You see Yoongi as the baby daddy?” Startled by Aisha’s question, you lower your head allowing the blush that crept upon your face to spread, spread like the smile on your face that didn’t want to pay attention to you and continue its actions. At that moment whilst Aisha and Vivi laughed by product of your embarrassment, Mani leaned against her chair, growing scowl on her face watching you make a fool of yourself, wanting to speak up and tell you to stop acting like a little child and answer like the grown woman you so wanted to be. Extremely bitter is how she was now feeling.

“I mean— n… Okay, well—“ Disrupted by your shy giggle, Aisha only followed along. “Okay, I mean— I’m not opposed to it, it’d be nice but I don’t know if he wants that. It’d be really nice if he sees this lasting longer like I do, but… you know, only time can tell.” Go figure, Mani wanted nothing more than to scowl. The inner anger and jealousy clouding her vision now, not feeling any sense of pity for what followed, additional to that your next words didn’t help her ever growing internal anger towards you; “Quite honestly I only see myself with him.” What was once calm, your sister’s smile faded standing up along Mani when the tapping of shoes were heard behind you. Greetings and hugs given by women you had never seen before, but with the sound of an all too familiar voice: your mother reached Mani first, taking her into a welcoming hug.

Like all the women that were previously with you, you stood up to greet the other two older women accompanied by their son. As if life didn’t hate you way too much already, the disgusting smile that belong to no other than Lee Geunpyo, one you hadn’t seen since the incident at the shed a month back. Full of an overwhelming annoyance, your body twisted to the point you couldn’t see him anymore, only a pair of green shoes belonging to the equally annoyed boy that stood in front of you, not too familiar to be exact. Like you’d most likely would’ve done, the now red haired boy greeted you with a rapid smile that soon dropped turning into an uninterested expression (at least you know he wouldn’t be a bother). Moving aside, he took the seat next to you given as your mother basically sat him down by force. Glaring at her for her actions, you failed to notice the body seating to your other side; tapping on your arm whilst he sat down, Guppy made sure you turned to look at him. “Sit down, honey.”

“I'm not telling you to end things with her, of course don’t break her heart right now, go on have your little fun, but if things start getting serious— you know: wedding talk, children… then know that’s when you should step out and let her find someone who can take care of her expenses and— no offense, but what you can’t really afford.” Shrugging at the suggestion, your father, continuing to masticate the piece of mushy gum. “Nothing against you, of course— you’re a great kid, responsible enough to maintain yourself, but not exactly someone I— we would want for our daughter.” With a pause, Yoongi stared at your father, trying his hardest to speak the words that only created mush inside his head, filled with anger and pain, he held the lump in his throat that caused it to ache as it did now.

Taking out a checkbook from inside his coat, it didn’t help Yoongi’s deflated confidence hearing his words. “I heard your car was destroyed… I think… this is enough… right?” Demonstrating the checkbook to the boy in front of him who didn’t even spare a glance to the item, your father sighed nodding to himself as he muttered a ‘yeah’ the instance he ripped the paper out of the book. With a smile, your father slid the frail piece of paper across the table, showing his toothy grin to the boy who not long ago had seen the same smile in a warming way, now finding it to be the most betraying smile he’s ever seen. “A great lawyer you are, Mr. y/l/n— with much respect, if I don’t accept the money of those who rob me of my work— there’s no way I’m taking money from you to buy my silence for what you just said about my relationship with your daughter.” Pen in hand, your father chuckled looking up at the dark haired boy in front of him, taking the cap off of the expensive looking pen (it was pretty basic, but however he spent his money isn’t anyone's concern).

“My boy, it’s to fix your car, don’t think I want to brive you. It’s bad enough she’s already moving in with Yuta, I don’t need my little girl to struggle with transportation too.” Glaring his direction, Yoongi was done with the disrespect he was spewing. It was one thing that he allowed your father to speak horrid things about him but it was another when he spoke of people you both hold dear. What did he mean it was bad enough you were moving in with Yuta? If anything the boy had your trust more than your own family did and now Yoongi understood how rightfully so. Jacket in hand, taking his time to put it on, he spoke. “She never spoke ill of you nor did she complain. I always thought it was because you trusted how she managed her life, but now I recall, it was because you haven’t been there most of her life.” Your father’s smile dropped, his eyes glaring at the boy who stood in front of him dropping more than enough of cash to pay for what both he and your father consumed. Full of rage and a slightly damaged ego, your father stood. “I’m not wasting her time nor mine— I’ll prove it to you.”

Yoongi struggled to catch his breath with every step he took. His lips began to quiver at the happenings behind him. Hands inside his pockets, clutching the hand warmers you nagged him to keep not wanting him to walk around with icicles as fingers. Just the thought of you made a soft grin appear on his lips, allowing the anger he contained to minimize. Perhaps in the past he wouldn’t admit he was utterly in love with you but the sheer mention of you caused his heart to flutter and warmth to spread through him— with you he felt complete and confident of what he wanted in his future. Your encouragement was only the cherry on top for him to feel secure and continue the path he’s been fighting so long to obtain. Letting himself remember you were there for him, Yoongi relaxed— even if the future call wasn’t going to satisfy him.

Not long into his journey of deciding whether to take the train or the bus, the vibrating buzz against his leg, caused him to stop in his tracks, moving aside to not be a bother for passersby. Leaning against the cold railing that separated them all from the intact grass, Yoongi pulled out his phone, questioning Jungkook’s decision to call him. Pressing the green button, Jungkook’s voice filled Yoongi’s ear.

“Hey… are you busy?” A sort of distress could be heard in Jungkook’s voice, one that was surely worrying the older male. “No, why?” Looking to his sides, eyes slightly squinting due to the harsh wind hitting his face, Yoongi pulled the hood of his sweater, hoping it was good enough to cover at least his side profile. “Oh, where are you?” “I was deciding whether to get the train or a bus but i just remembered y/n wanted some boxes. Why? Do you need something, Kookie?”

The closest place he could go to right now was the manga shop, around four blocks south from where he was standing. It also didn’t help that the wind was going the opposite way, fully going against his face.

“Just came out the police station, I’m waiting for the bus to your place now.” Shivering due to the weather, Jungkook leaned against the promo wall of the bus stop, hoping it could block out some of this harsh wind. Confused as to why he was in the police station, Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows holding his phone tight. “Police- Police station? What did you do?” It was the future scolding tone that made Jungkook chuckle upon hearing Yoongi’s voice. “I didn’t do anything bad— at least not that they’ve found; it was about the CCTV videos. These assholes said the video got corrupted when playing it to find clues and that it apparently didn’t want to work anymore, whatever that means…” a huff of frustration left Jungkook’s lips, eyes shut just to try and keep himself calm. “I asked about the copies they were supposed to make and they just said they couldn’t find them— like how trash can they be?!”

Perhaps Jungkook was more bothered than the man on the other side of the line. Compared to Jungkook, Yoongi chuckled nodding to himself. “Nothing to do about it. Are you meeting with Joon?” No one was at the apartment to be exact, so to know Jungkook didn’t have a key to go in, it meant Yoongi could only open the door for him. Nonetheless his nonchalant and uncaring tone towards the videos left Kookie on edge.

“Aren’t you more concerned about the tapes? And no, I just thought you were there and wanted to talk to you about this all— give me a sec, let me pay for this thing.” From the distance Yoongi could only hear the shuffling of his movement, his jacket sleeves brushing against the fabric of itself, the sound the machine made when his pass had come out, and the sound of the bus doors closing as he went to a window seat, continuing his conversation inside the lonely bus with only a few people spread around. “I don't think that bothers me much anymore,” Looking around for the closest bus stop, Yoongi turned to his left hoping the bus Gguk was on stopped there. “What bus number is it?” “Express 34, are you catching it?” With the sound of a ring on top of the roof, Yoongi lifted his head up, watching the LED sign flash its orange words across to let those know, the same bus Jungkook was on would arrive in less than five minutes (how cute to figure out they weren't really that far away).

Nodding to himself, Yoongi sat on the steel bench that he soon regretted sitting on, freezing his ass momentarily. “Yeah, I’ll give you some company.” Silently agreeing to themselves, both males hung up, allowing Yoongi to look at the activity his phone had going on. Received with a few things left off on his instagram, things Hoseok sent him that he believed Yoongi would find funny (which most of the times did cause him to have a good laugh), a recent selfie from Kookie on the bus to demonstrate how bored he became after the call ended, and lastly a few messages sent by you, all questioning if your dad was treating him well and how much you miss him at the moment. With a low giggle he reassured you he was well and just as he was to ask how you were, the settling huff of the bus in front of him made him put his phone away, stepping inside once the doors were open, paying and patiently waiting for his pass to be handed to him.

It didn't take Yoongi long enough to see that Jungkook was waiting there for him. Giddy enough he waved toward him, shooting Yoongi his famous kind smiles. Returning the smile, Yoongi sat next to the boy who was now sat against the window, backpack between his legs. “You didn't get the boxes?” Kook asked Yoongi who only replied by shaking his head. “No, but youre going to help me get some at the manga shop.” (That’s a lie.) With faux distaste, Jungkook pouted but only smiled when he became curious of his whereabouts. Actually it was more of Yoongi’s obvious gloominess that sparked curiosity within him.

Shifting his body to look at Yoongi clearly, Jungkook opened his mouth slightly. “Where were you?” As innocent as the question was meant to be, Jungkook didn’t miss the way Yoongi’s face dropped, trying to fish out words for him to answer in a way that wouldn’t leave Jungkook wondering if there was something wrong (clearly it wouldn’t work). Simple as that he decided to not lie to the younger boy. “I—I was actually meeting with y/n’s dad—” Out of custom, Kook cut him off, apologizing right after knowing the habit wasn’t too kind. “It didn’t go well? (sorry…)” Shaking it off, Yoongi gave him a slanted smile. With a sigh and a chuckle, his back hit the backrest, shaking his head just by remembering it all. “It was going so well, Kookie. Everything was going so smoothly, he asked questions, treated me so comfortably and then he just… he dropped the question. Asking if I really loved her.” Jungkook hadn’t seen anything bad with the question but yet again, Yoongi wasn’t done talking.

“When I said I did, he just went on how I wasn’t really good enough for her, how this is just a little fun thing— it was just terrible, you know?” Yoongi’s head hung low but in order to know Kook’s response, he whipped it to his left, watching the other boy puff up his cheeks. “He really said that?! Why would he think you’re not enough? He hasn’t even seen how in love she is with you!” Jungkook was beginning to feel angry and it was showing, the boy wore his heart on his sleeve for god sake.

As angry as his words came out, the last bit made Yoongi’s heart race. If anything all he needed was to remember that you were head over heels for him and as long as you loved him— he could survive.

“Wait, wait, what else did he do?” Jungkook was now full body facing the older man, leg up on the seat and all. With a slight red tint on his pale skin due to the cold, Jungkook pouted with curiosity in him. “Well, he mentioned how I would be better off with Mani, he even offered me money to fix the car but— I’m not taking his money. Didn’t plan on it, especially not after he told me to have my fun and leave her if things get serious…” Yoongi’s head was not resting against the backrest of the seat in front of him, trying his best to not release all his pain at the moment.

Jungkook couldn’t bare the pain Yoongi emitted, despite him trying to act like he wasn’t as bothered. Like stated above, Jungkook wore his heart on his sleeve and anyone else’s pain soon turned into his. Seeing his close friend be this distressed only caused him to be as distressed. A stuttering mess out of anger he continued his angry ramble; “It makes no sense though! Why would you even be with Mani after all she’s done?! Not even that, you’re with y/n— his daughter for god’s sake!” Jungkook calmed down the moment Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to let him know it was fine and that he should relax for a bit.” Nodding to both Yoongi and himself, Jungkook pouted looking out the window, knowing this was their stop, only a few steps away from Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s apartment.

“Come on…” Both standing up, Jungkook held his backpack. “Do you plan on telling her about what he said?” Yoongi didn’t want Jungkook to get exasperated as before, given the boy was already a few more words away from crying out of anger (it didn’t help that the incompetence of the officers had ruined his afternoon already). “No.” It was so forward, no need for him to tell the younger boy that he wouldn’t— he didn’t want to strain your relationship with your parents more than it already was.

Just as Jungkook was about to keep rambling on about how Yoongi should, the two stopped in front of the apartment building— across the street; despite Yoongi not wanting to be more open about how he felt, he swallowed the lump in his throat watching Jungkook run to the car in front of the building. Whilst Jungkook enraged spoke profanities, Yoongi circled the car making sure to not touch it to avoid fingerprints, it seems Jungkook had the same thoughts as he only pulled on his hair looking at the thoroughly destroyed car.

Not were the damages from last time still present, but the added signatures of keys against the paint were bold. The dents on the doors were huge as if a trash can containing something heavy had been thrown against it. The mirrors from both sides went missing, along the windows that had been shattered inwardly— leaving the view of teared up seats with its yellow cushions and springs sticking out. The black stain of coffee made by Hoseok the first time he spilled his coffee after hitting a curb was now bigger marked with a fishy smell around it.

The gloves you had left about a year ago inside his car were not torn into pieces and the decorative charms were either gone or crushed around the car— even the radio had been pulled out and stolen along other car parts. Just when he had enough saved up to repair the damage done last time— life granted him an even worse and expensive punishment, allowing your father’s words to ring against his ears. What could have caused him anger only made his heart sink deeper in. He hated to think your father had a part in this, but there still was someone else that hated him more than your family could possibly hate him right now.

Actually the repairing had little to do with the weight against his chest. After Yoongi was tired of living with his father, the only one who supported and helped him was his brother. Knowing he didn’t have anywhere to stay— he offered Yoongi a place until his wife had enough of it. As much as it pained him to see his struggling little brother, Yoongi’s brother had secretly gotten the car for him. He never intended for Yoongi to live in it— he wanted it to be a form of liberation. To take it and drive around when he felt like screaming to the world how horrible it was, to cry when he couldn't scream, to laugh when he wanted to laugh and feel happy— he wanted Yoongi to be whatever he wanted to be: free and happy.

His pulled up sweater sleeve was raised to his cheek, wiping away the tears that had rolled down his cold face, he didn’t sniffle but soon enough he couldn’t bear it. “Are there security cameras here?” Jungkook questioned as he squatted, hands on his knees to support his weight. The boy compared to Yoongi was livid— the tears that Yoongi didn’t want to show brimmed his eyes and the quiver in his voice betrayed him into thinking he was keeping his cool.

Yoongi looked at Jungkook before looking around, only to face the boy again and shake his head. “Fuck!” Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Jungkook bit his tongue, pushing down the sob he wanted to release so badly right now. Monotone as before, Yoongi just tells Jungkook he’s heading upstairs to which the younger male nodded, walking behind him in silence to the building’s elevator. As he stood still, Jungkook’s body shivered. Poor kid.

Upon getting out of the elevator and into the hallway, Jungkook followed Yoongi like a lost puppy to the brown door decorated with a sign Hobi had made for his two friends. Putting in the passcode, both Yoongi and Jungkook walk inside. Whilst Jungkook had asked to use the bathroom, he had dialed both Namjoon and Hoseok, only having Hoseok pick up due to Namjoon still at work. Yoongi could hear Jungkook’s muffled quivers whilst he found himself fishing for a drink the fridge.

The pain of realizing one of his most precious things was now gone was making his chest ache again, not even the chilling air from the fridge could help how hot he was feeling. It didn’t help that the memories of when his brother had first given him the car were flooding to him. His bright smile as he sat on the passenger's seat watching Yoongi drive around laughing and smiling at the road ahead, singing along to the songs both he and his brother loved; memories of when he’d leave his brother’s house at night after hearing his wife complain about how they didn’t need another mouth to feed in the house or how Yoongi’s gloominess wasn't doing her any well. He couldn’t blame her— Postpartum Depression wasn’t doing any good to her and the fact that there was no help was eating them all alive.

With the child crying constantly and her irritation with everything grew, she couldn’t bare having someone else share sadness in the comfort of her home when she could barely take care of herself. Perhaps that’s why his brother always tried to make Yoongi feel loved and cared for, given his wife didn’t allow him to be near her for more than five minutes— If he couldn’t help all of the ones he loved, at least he would try to help the other, surely enough Yoongi appreciates him for all the work he had done— even her. It’s not like she was unpleasant all the time, it was fine the first two months, but at her last one before birth and after it, things had gone downhill and he understood she needed attention and help.

Taking the last can of beer he could find, Yoongi trugged to the couch, slowly sitting down after unzipping his jacket. The soft corduroy of the couch greeted his hands as he slid them to get the remote control. With a soft sigh, he opens the can taking a sip whilst the TV turned on. Hopefully you were having a better time than him.

That was what you weren’t having: A good time. What had started as a way for the men surrounding you, to get to know you— soon turned into a way for your mother to brag about how great of a person Mani was. All you could do was distract yourself with the table cloth that reached your thighs in order to avoid the stares from your sister and Guppy who sat beside you, inching his chair closer every time you scooted away. If he kept going at it, you could see yourself almost on top of Taehyung. The poor boy who like you wanted no part in this damned lunch— in fact his misery was worn all over his body that it’s a surprise his mother hasn’t scolded him.

Despite Mani’s look of embarrassment and awkwardness, the girl was highly enjoying the praise coming from the older ladies. She couldn’t say she cared much about Aisha’s and Vivi’s input as they really had no power for her to care about. Along that Aisha was completely clueless as to why your mother would pull in and show up unannounced with four other people who clearly had you uncomfortable and what your once giddy mood was— now was gloomy. At such she could notice this scheme wasn’t sitting well with you.

“So you’re still with that Agust D guy?” You didn’t answer any of his questions but upon mentions of Yoongi, you lifted your head to glare at him. “Can you— like not talk?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer but the once bored Taehyung had chuckled upon hearing you, making Guppy glare at him with intentions of intimidation. What a foolish kid he was to think Taehyung would fear a load of idiocy, in fact he stared back with indifference and boredom letting him know he was wasting his time.

Was it not for Jin’s unavailability he wouldn’t find himself in this mess. Unlike Taehyung— Jin spent the majority of his time with his father and helping with the company. Sure he could’ve taken the afternoon off to attend this lunch as he was the strong candidate your parents opted for, but Taehyung was the available one— ridding him of his only day off this week. There went his studio time.

Surrounded by chattering older females along the ones in their mid 30’s and one in her late 20’s, Taehyung wasn’t going to spend his afternoon listening to their annoying gossip. He could either pick up a conversation with Geunpyo (the only other male) or you— the one who as well looked as uncomfortable and tired of this. The first was out of reach, not only had he shown that he was a persistent, annoying, arrogant, asshole but he seemed too preoccupied in showing off to the older women who praised him. The latter wasn’t ideal either. As bored as you found yourself to be, if he was spotted talking with you— either Geunpyo would react possessively and bother him further or your mother would push the y/n and Taehyung agenda— something it was visible neither of you wanted. As well it’s not like he didn’t know you had a boyfriend, for goodness sake he defended you not long ago on Twitter, ridding of those insolent ignorant people who side with their ‘faves’ until they do something that isn’t seen as correct by others. Given to such outcomes, plan C was the most adequate and fun: calling over a waiter and ordering two alcoholic beverages for himself.

Like Aisha, Vivi was looking at you. Monitoring the amount of drinks you took and your character towards the guest. She’d be an idiot to not notice your mood drop, especially when Geunpyo attempted to speak with you. Given by the way you reacted towards him, there might be some issue. It’s not like you’re treating Taehyung the same way, in fact he was receiving the kindness you’d give to a stranger, someone he is. Unlike him, your hostility and straightforwardness towards Guppy allowed her and Aisha to know there was something between you two and not in a good way.

Just as he tried to speak to you again, you shut your eyes, letting your head fall onto your arms in order to not see him or anyone else. It didn’t last long as your mother’s voice had caught your attention. Her subtle scolding tone: “Y/n raise your head and sit up.” God you weren’t a child anymore. What made her think she could treat you as such? This time rent wasn’t a valid excuse, she wasn’t helping you anymore.

Whining at the voice, you raised your head with a pout on your lips. “Why are you here?” You finally spoke in the entire time they had arrived. Your mother’s expression turned to one of fear when the other ladies took a sip of their drinks, feeling the tense ambient. With a simple giggle your mother glared at you. “Honey you knew we were coming.”

It was a plan. It was all a plan.

Annoyed and feeling betrayed, you turned to Vivi who became small with your glare out of shame. Wanting to mouth the words ‘traitor’ but will all eyes on you, you held back watching as Aisha finally understood. Ah, finally some spice. Intrigued as he was, Taehyung downed the last bit of liquid in his first glass smiling to himself as he sat up, taking the next glass onto his hands to enjoy, of course it didn’t last. The older women had resumed their previous talk ignoring the three which were Guppy, Taehyung, and you.

Not only was that a bad idea but it kept making the hostility grow. Guppy took it as an advantage, turning to you as he began to speak, forgetting his earlier question. You didn’t have any time to care for his conversation. Your mind was elsewhere, especifically on Yoongi. With the findings of your mother setting this lunch, you feared she had something to do with your father meeting up with Yoongi on his own. Your heart was now accelerating and the hand that found itself in your pocket clutching your phone— considering calling him. Did it go well? Did he threatened your boy? Or was this all in your mind and you were paranoid of what your family was capable of doing? Perhaps that was it, but still that was no reassurance for your spiraling mind.

At the feeling of a tight hold on your arm, you wince silently turning to the figure who held your arm in his hand, squeezing it every second you didn’t answer him. He wasn’t stupid enough, he had shifted to where no one in the table could see how he was harming you, this was the last thing you needed. “I’m tired of your ass ignoring me like this. Be a good girl and answer me like you should.” Ew, how gross. It would never compare to Yoongi’s soft mewls when he calls you a good girl.

With obvious disgust and his grip tightening, Taehyung placed his glass down. In order to not cause any scenes, he snaked his left arm around your chair, taking a hold of Geunpyo’s hand and swatting it away with force. The anger in Guppy’s face was so clear almost ready to pounce on Taehyung who so nonchalant spoke; husky deep voice: “Don’t be a coward, know better than that.” Resuming his drinking, Guppy’s voice rose as he was to reply to Taehyung— only received with questioning stares from the other women.

If things weren’t shitty already, the loud ringing of your phone signaling a phone call had caused the attention directed at Guppy towards you, making you sigh. Pulling out the phone from your pocket, a small light was seen in your eyes. “Excuse me…” You didn’t wait for them to reply, you only pushed back your chair and walked near the bathroom to where no one would look at you as you spoke. Taehyung had stood up as well, walking across the room to the bar and ordering a few more drinks. From that angle you both could see each other.

Resuming to the notification on your phone, you slid your finger across the screen to answer Jungkook or ‘emo baby’ as your phone claimed with a picture of fifteen year old Jungkook— eyes rimmed with black eyeliner and hair possibly slightly red.

“What’s up, Kookie?” You still feared someone would be near and hear your conversation, so your voice was quiet and faint— good enough for him to listen. Jungkook found himself in the balcony now, leaning against the railing as he went on with his heavy breathing. “It’s just— Well it’s about Yoongi.” He didn’t have to say more. Your mind was racing back to your earlier speculations and your heart was sinking at what could've happened with your father. Was it not for Yoongi telling Kook to not say a word about it, he would’ve spilled that too.

But that wasn’t it. “Everything is just so ass! The CCTV videos, police failing as usual…” He paused to sniffle, doing what Yoongi had done earlier with his tears. “When we got to the apartments, his car was just outside— completely wrecked. You know how the first time the engine was fucked? Well, this time there was barely any car. Windows smashed, keyed, mirrors and bumper taken, they even took the charms and scent pine that were hanging on the rearview… He’s just extremely quiet, I’m worried— he needs you…” Yoongi wouldn’t deny that he needed you right now, but he also didn’t want anyone to tell you how much. He needed his cuddling buddy for his crying session. He wanted to hold you so tight for the entire day, but you were busy and he didn’t want to burden you.

Though the passing of cars were muffled, Hobi’s voice was more than clear to you as he tried his best to cheer Yoongi up, only receiving a few chuckles; God you wished to be there with him so badly. Sighing to yourself as you frown, head hanging low— you look around your surroundings, being met with Taehyung’s blank eyes. He didn’t smile nor gave any sense of emotion to which you shook up to continue talking with Gguk. “Do you have the speaker on?” You question, Jungkook replies telling you he’s in the balcony and at the time that sounds good enough.

“Do you think Namjoon or Hobi could pick me up? This entire thing for me feels like a set up. It was supposed to be my sister, her friend, and Mani but when we went to the cafe to eat lunch, my mom showed up with two other ladies and their sons.” The groan that left your lips made Jungkook question what was so bad about it. Poor boy barely knew about your mother’s plans to plan your life, but the mention of two men had him hooked with curiosity. “I think the guy with red hair is the one who defended Yoongi and I with the whole Mani thing, but the other one is Guppy…” Once again you groaned. This time he wasn’t confused, he knew what this was and he was filled with rage and disgust. It didn’t help when you told him what he had done.

After a couple of drinks, Yoongi wanted to rest on his bed. Making his way to the bedroom with the balcony in between both rooms, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation as he realized it was your voice on the other side of the call. “Why?!” Jungkook had gone back to that exasperated tone, leaving the gloominess as you explained how he tried catching your attention and with every dismissal he grew tired. “Yeah, fucking asshole had the audacity to grab my arm… It still hurts, I might actually get a bruise.” You didn’t bruise easily but by the way he handled your arm and your willpower to not show him how much he was hurting you, perhaps a small maroon shade would decorate your arm.

“Wait, he’s there with her?!” Whatever gloominess Yoongi had, left momentarily the moment you explained what he had done and now like Jungkook— Yoongi wanted to cry out of anger. At the sound of his voice, your stood up right, blood cooly flowing through your body in fright. “Gguk! I thought you said no one was there!” Jungkook tried to explain that he was alone, but it was only jumbled with Yoongi telling you to send him your location and how you shouldn’t sit near Guppy whenever you go sit down. As much as you tried to reply to at least one of them, you ended up hanging up, releasing a big sigh.

You didn’t want to sit back there to be honest, especially not after Yoongi had asked you to please not sit near Guppy. To your luck, Taehyung was done standing by the bar, taking his last shot of whatever he was drinking in order to tolerate this old tea party. Meeting halfway as he followed your long path to the table you slightly glanced at him before quietly glancing; “Do you mind changing seats?—” He interrupted your further explanation, he didn’t need it. What he was not going to tolerate is having Geunpyo harass you this entire afternoon without anyone standing up for you and he wasn’t going to be one of the cowards to let him get away with it. “I wasn’t going to let you sit there either way.” He didn’t continue talking, only sped ahead before you to take the seat you once sat in as you took his.

Sadly it wasn’t dismissed by Mrs. Lee who pursed her lips seeing you slightly nod to Taehyung when taking the seat between him and Vivi. Having enough of the way you have been treating her son (which hadn’t gone unnoticed either) sat up straight, looking at you with fierce eyes before opening her mouth. “I think we’ve been ignoring what we’re here for… y/n do you so yourself with my son? Personally I don’t see it quite there yet.” With her words your mother’s attention was more focused on you now, eyes widening with expectancy.

Clearly given to your demeanor not changing and a scowl growing, your mother became more paranoid with what you could say. Clearing your throat and hoping for the minutes to go by, you shake your head looking at the empty plates in front of you. “I don’t know where you got that idea, I already—” God, thank you. This time it was Mrs. Lee’s phone rang, ending further conversation. Like you, the woman stood up hesitantly after excusing herself, sending a glare your way to which you so badly wanted to blow a kiss at her out of custom but remembered this lady was almost similar to her son.

The past fifteen minutes had gone so dreadfully having your mother glare at you every time you looked up, along Mani who would glance at you and coward away when you just stared at her to stop it (perhaps that’s why your mother was glaring now). Taehyung as usual sat uninterested and content with the fact Geunpyo wasn’t bothering you. The only ones to actually make you relax furthermore were Mrs. Kim and Aisha who asked you simple questions.

Mrs. Kim was so understanding with your short answers, figuring you didn’t know her well enough to say anything else— nonetheless her presence was so comforting; of course it all died the moment Mrs. Lee came back wanting to continue her questioning. Was it not for Taehyung who became irked with how dumb the questions were, he wouldn’t have chuckled loud enough to for everyone to hear.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Kim asked her son, eyes soft and showing serious concern. ‘Ah, must be nice…’ You told yourself aching for that same maternal care that you haven’t experienced in years. “The girl already has a boyfriend, I think we all caught that already.” You didn’t expect him to say it out first, it wasn’t really his business to do so but given to how you almost did prior to Mrs. Lee’s phone call you only relaxed against the chair with a soft smile on your lips— relieved and glad he considered Yoongi in this mix.

How awkward had it been with your mother trying to explain that she didn’t know. Honestly the only one giving a fuss was Mrs. Lee whilst Mrs. Kim scoldingly glaread at Taehyung who pouted at her.

At the sound of your phone ringing again, this time a smile placed itself on your lips. You didn’t even bother excusing yourself from the table, instead you answered it there whilst your mother tried to clear the waters with Mrs. Lee. The simple “Come outside.” coming from Jungkook filled you with glee as you stood from your chair looking down at Aisha with a slanted smile, apologizing for this. She gave your hand a little squeeze, shaking her head before letting you go. To Taehyung, you nodded to which he returned watching you speak: “Thank you.” Quite honestly it was a thank you for all he had done this afternoon and online— defending someone he clearly didn’t know.

Your presence has not gone unnoticed. Your mother’s attention shifted to you with annoyance seeing you grab your bag and zip up your sweater. “Where are you going?!” Her tone was harsher now, frustrated by Taehyung’s input and now your sudden leave— she wasn’t having it. Clearly you couldn’t careless, shaking your head as you walked out the lunch area, even if you heard a couple of steps behind you.

In the hallway far from the guest, the tapping of small heels became louder, groaning after hearing your mother’s words again. “Stop walking! You’re not going anywhere!” Gone ignored, she gasped, speeding to reach you. From behind her, Mani’s own pleads for your mother to relax had gone ignored, Making the second oldest grow annoyed with you for making such a big deal out of this. If your mom was to get startled or more angry, the lady’s pressure would lower— in her mind, you couldn’t careless.

The ambient back at the table was just as hostile, or at least awkward. Whilst Mrs. Kim spoke with Vivi about the baby, Guppy grew frustrated sitting around all these people he deemed uninteresting, with a low growl— he stood up rushing to where you all were: outside the building now. Loudly sighing with dissatisfaction, Taehyung stopped biting his fingers looking at Mrs. Lee. “No offense but control your son.”

An unsatisfied scoff; Jungkook shakes his head upon seeing Guppy come out the doors that not so long ago your mother, Mani, and you did. Surely he was fast. Of course it wasn’t only for Guppy. Seeing Mani act like she usually does after the things she’s done, hasn’t made his image of her that great.

Upon arrival, the tension between Yoongi and Guppy had already turned hostile, causing Jungkook to get out of the car in case of any unwanted occurrences. Annoyed at it, you pull on Yoongi’s hand, causing him to walk closer to you— arm wrapping around your shoulder.

Your mother wasn’t very keen on that, her face turning red out of anger by how close you were to Yoongi. ‘This idiot wasn’t convincing enough.’ She thought to herself recalling the mission set for your dad. Interrupted by Guppy’s laugh when seeing Yoongi.

“Ahh, Agust D… haven’t seen you since your banning, how are you holding up?” God was he a fucking asshole. Seeing him so cocky, crossing his arms whilst looking at Yoongi with a smirk on his lips, eyebrow raised to signal a dominance he thought he had. Hobi himself wasn’t having it, sighing as he looked to his rear view mirror— after all, he couldn’t be parked in front of the building. “Yoongi, y/n— come on let’s just go.” He looked at Guppy watching the guy even throw a cocky smile at him, one to which he just scowled— face obvious with disgust.

Nodding to Hobi’s commands the two of you turned to open the door of the back seat, that was until your mother pulled on your sweater sleeve. Door open, Yoongi by it but you still held by your mom, you yanked your arm free glaring at her for how unnecessarily dramatic she was making all of this be. “I told you to not get involved with my love life.” The stern tone in your voice made her back away slightly. Even Mani who earlier feared you, gained that same fear as she watched you clutch Yoongi’s hand, squeezing it to reassure him you were fine. Turning to her before entering the car; “You have no right to involve yourself in this. Never did, never will… intrusive liar.” The lump of spit she swallowed was visible and the rage she owned was visibly present for once.

Your mother was now aware of how much you cared for Yoongi and the lengths you’d go to stay with him. There was nothing she could do to make you stay away from him but still— she would try. “Leave right now and forget about any, any damn thing I’m paying for you. Bills, rent, loans, everything.” And just like you couldn’t with Mrs. Lee, you could with her, blowing a kiss to your mother out of custom.

Hoseok didn’t bother to wait for anyone to react, instead he pulled out of there before anyone working in the building told him to leave, a tow truck was to come or worse— he’d receive a ticket. On one side you were glad you left already, fast enough to not make the others inside wait. But on the other, there was so much you could’ve told all of them just right. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time.

Silence could’ve clouded you all, but upon receiving a phone call from Eunwoo— everyone’s mood had changed. “Y/n! Y/n! You know that lady that went into the female priv without a care that I was in there?” Humming as a response, head against Yoongi’s shoulder whilst his arm was wrapped around you. “She brought me a holiday gift basket as an apology.” You could hear his munching as he ate some of the things in the basket. Poor Eunwoo was going to spend another shift with the replacement employees that often make him uncomfortable.

Giggling to his excitement, Hobi looked up through the mirror smiling as he saw you and Yoongi smile. “Was everything sealed?” You suppose realization fell at him since now his chirpy giggles turned into groans, looking at the candy at hand. “Y/n! Why did you have to ruin it… hopefully the replacements like holiday snacks.” Jungkook laughed at the way Eunwoo extended your name in a pouty whine; how gullible could he be?

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He whined, hanging up before you could answer. The call wasn’t on speaker but he surely was loud on the phone. His call had only softened the ambient in the car, making all of you talk with different things to keep you distracted. Even Yoongi has slightly forgotten about your father, yes of course until you snuggled closer to him (with no care if Hoseok scolded you for not being buckled up).

“How where things with my dad?”

“Went very well… I had fun.”

Jungkook’s stare from the rear view mirror, shaming Yoongi for not opening up about the issue. He gave no mind to the younger male’s stare, trying to focus his entire attention to you and avoid reliving the pain of being told he wasn’t good enough for you.

Hoseok didn’t have to be told twice, taking a different route that led to your current apartment— he drove both you and Yoongi there knowing how much alone time you both needed. Despite the laughs Eunwoo initiated and you all continued within the car— there was underlying things you both had to speak about, and to start with: Yoongi’s car was one. It still confused you on how they had taken the car out of the garage, with no access key, his keys, or the engine working— it was strange. Perhaps there was a logical way they did so but in the meantime you found it impossible.

Like earlier, both of you found yourself in the lobby of the building your afternoon started out with. Despite the rollercoaster of events, you two would always find each other at the same place… together.

Allowing Hobi to see you both were safe and sound inside the building and entering the elevator, he drove off to the apartment the two where recently in. This time no need for Yoongi to open when Hobi had a key of his own, all they had to do was wait for Namjoon.

Once again a comforting silence settled around both you and Yoongi. On the way up to your current apartment, the most you did was hold his until arriving to your door, opening to be greeted with boxes upon boxes. This time Yoongi would be the one to close the door behind you two as you walked towards the bedroom in order to change into your sleeping wear (just one of Yoongi’s shirts). He had followed soon after, watching you fix your socks as he removed his jeans, pulling a pair of sleeping pants decorated with small dogs (ones you got him to replace his sweatpants).

“Wings or Italian?” You asked braiding your hair just well enough to not have stray hairs all over your face. Quite honestly he wasn’t that hungry but knew later on he would be. Along with that, a soccer game was supposed to start in a few minutes and he didn’t plan on missing it. “Wings…” how heavy he must still feel, his voice low and saddened. You dismissed it as being due to the car, but your father’s words weighed down on him more. Either way it hurt seeing him and all you wanted was to hold him like he’s hold you so many times.

Nodding, you walk to the kitchen, pulling out a menu from the wing shop you two often made orders from. Not long after you walk back to the room, seeing him lie down with his eyes closed— clutching a throw pillow he found first. Sighing silently to yourself, you walked closer to the bed. Sitting down, allowing the mattress to sink further until you were now laying in front of him, tugging on the pillow for him to let go. He got the message but nonetheless didn’t open his eyes, causing your frown to grow. Oh how much was your heart aching right now.

Yoongi didn’t lose time in pulling you closer to him. His body pressed against you, holding you tight and possibly harder if he tried. You didn’t care to be honest— as long as you had him with you, it was all fine. With his head on the crook of your neck, feeling the air he exhaled through his nose tickles your flesh, your fingers raking through his hair, and his hands were beginning to slowly rub circles on your back— your lips parted, whispering to him: “May your trails end in full bloom…”

At breaking point, Yoongi’s held in sob—released. His body shook as he tried to hold you tight; his head had lowered against your chest and you held him and reassure you were there for him— because you were.

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belladonnaandulriched · 3 years

Text

the dead of night | chapter eleven

Scott's point of view

If I was honest to myself, I wondered about Kristina and her life in Boston. I wondered about it so much that I could hardly concentrate on what was going on there in Sew Into You. I wanted to know more about her and I wanted to know about things there.

Joey said that I could use the arrowhead for my benefit and go to visit her whenever I wanted. So once Marcia told me that she would get to work right away on my checkerboard shirt, I took the arrowhead out of my pocket and doubled back to the shelves where Frankie had been standing before. I was alone standing there.

Just make a mark in mid air and a hole would open up.

I did just that and sure enough, a little dark hole emerged out of mid air. I had no idea as to how to make it any bigger so I ducked my head and climbed in.

I was surrounded by complete and total blackness. I didn't know if I could breathe there, and so I crawled along the darkness. It was like crawling on a slick veil, albeit one that was closing in on my body. I held my breath and kept going.

Nothing around me. Nothing but darkness. Nothing but sheer blackness. And something kept me steady.

I spotted a single white light up ahead of me. I kept crawling along on my elbows and my knees. I thought my chest was about to burst when I reached the end, and I somersaulted out of there and stumbled out on my back on a hard surface. Pain surged up my back to the base of my skull, to which I snapped my eyes shut.

I didn't move and I could hardly breathe from the pain in my back.

I opened my mouth and let out a long low whistle. I looked up above me at the sight of a sink basin to my left and a small bathroom window to my right.

The door above my head swung open and I caught the sound of a gasp behind me. I raised my gaze to the doorway where Kristina lingered above me, upside down no less.

“Scott! What—What are you—”

“I can explain,” I quipped to her; I pulsed my fingers and I could still feel the edges of the arrowhead against my skin.

“I'm sure you can. I heard a whistle in here and I thought I had left the window open.”

“Nah.” I winced at the pain in my back.

“Want some help?”

“Yes'm.” I raised my free hand towards her. She stood over me and held onto my hand to help me up. I set my other hand on the linoleum: I could feel the arrowhead underneath the palm. I gripped onto it as I stood to my feet and shoved it into my jeans pocket.

“Something smells good,” I remarked.

“I just put on a pot of tea,” she said. “Care for some?”

“Um—yeah, sure, why not?”

She giggled at me. I glanced about her bathroom and the warm creamy colored walls surrounding us. Nice warmth to take to me in after being surrounded by pitch darkness for a bit.

“It's snowing right now,” she told me.

“Remember when we were in school and we played 'Planet Caravan' to ourselves on our little guitars?” I recalled.

“How could I forget?” she said with a twinkle in her eye. She led me out of the bathroom to the rest of her warm lit apartment, just big enough for her. Up on the wall to the left was a shelf which upheld a bunch of little knick knacks and stuff.

A pair of little dolls looked to be made of ceramic rested on the end of the shelf. Their beady little eyes stared back at me.

I stopped before them to take a better look at them. The one on the right had a little black yarmulke atop its head and a little knit sweater about its body, while the one on the left wore a dark dress with a long skirt down to its ankles.

“Is this you and me?” I asked her.

“Huh?” She doubled back to me with her eyebrows raised.

“These two dolls here.”

“They started life as voodoo dolls, actually.”

I took the one with the yarmulke down first for a better look at it. It looked like a doll of me.

“Why would you have voodoo dolls that look like us, though?” I asked her.

“Just a coincidence,” she pointed out. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I thought they looked like us, too.”

“What's this right here, though?” I fingered the deep rut on the side of the doll's lower leg. It didn't look like a mistake, though, like there was an imperfection in the ceramic.

“It's carved into their flesh,” she said, to which I threw it down onto the floor.

“Scott!” she exclaimed; she stooped down to pick up the doll from there.

“What?”

“Be careful with these! They're very delicate.”

She turned it over to make sure it was alright on the back. Meanwhile, I checked out the rest of the stuff on the shelf: a pair of heart shaped boxes, one of ceramic and the other of what I believed was cardboard. The ceramic one had been glazed and painted black and red, while the cardboard one had a floral pattern all over it. There was a small snowglobe with a silvery skull inside next to the ceramic heart shaped box. She had fetched a bunch of shells and bunched them up on a single spot of the shelf; right next to that was a small pile of guitar picks of all colors of the rainbow followed by another little black box, this one made of black velvet to which it resembled the box a ring came in. And then, at the far end of the shelf stood a white ceramic vase with a fake glass rose inside of it.

Kristina set the doll back on the shelf before us and that was when a timer went off with a soft little ding from the kitchen.

“Tea's ready!” she declared. “How do you like yours?”

“Uh, just a little bit of sugar,” I said to her.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. I'm not really the biggest tea drinker. But I'm more than happy to have a cup, though.” I thought about Geddy and his love of wine, and I hoped he could get his hands on it soon enough.

“I have green, black, chai, and blueberry pomegranate,” she told me.

“Ooh, that last one sounds tasty!”

“I love that one,” she said with a glimmer in her eye. “It always puts me to sleep on the hard nights.”

She led me into her cute little kitchen with the rich blue paint job and the silver cookware dangling over the sink. She picked the bright blue teakettle off of the stove and poured the hot water into a pair of white bone china mugs. And then she reached over the stove for the box of blueberry pomegranate tea for a couple of bags.

In the meantime, I looked about the room.

“Nice little place you've got here,” I started.

“It's my home,” she explained as she set the bags of tea into the water and let them steep. “Nothing more and nothing less.” She handed me the cup on the right to me. Her luminous eyes stared back at me as she brought her cup up to her nose for a whiff of the blueberry tea.

“You and I should jam together again,” she told me in a low voice. “We can do it down by the dock and watch the birds.”

“Watch the birds?”

“The huge birds,” she elaborated, “endemic to Boston. Their wings are the size of city busses.”

“Wow,” I remarked with a raise of my eyebrows. “'Planet Caravan' set to birds flying.”

“Or 'Here Comes the Sun.'” She rounded me towards the doorway again. I followed her into the living room. She swayed a little bit with every step, and I wondered where she was going with all of this. She took a seat on the little blue love seat underneath the window. A little sliver of gray sunlight shone through the window behind her, down onto the crown of her head. Her blonde hair shone in the light like a little crown. There was something here, something I didn't know if she was ready to tell me as if then, especially when I glanced about the living room and didn't see any photographs of her family.

I thought back to my spoken word tour and I talked about her in Boston, by coincidence. No one really knew her, not even her own family. She was like a treasure locked away from the world, and the sun on her head made me wonder if there was something more she hadn't told me yet. But I was there in her apartment with tea in my hand.

I took a seat next to her on the loveseat. She showed me a warm smile, which was accentuated by the sunlight.

“I'm glad you were able to come here to visit,” she confessed to me, to which she raised her mug towards mine. I clinked the rim of mine against hers, and then we took sips of tea at the same time. The tea was warm and sweet and perfect, so much that I thought it was going to put me to sleep.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I started.

“I have only so many pennies.”

“Why is that?”

“I'm sure you know how hard it is to be a musician.”

“Absolutely.”

“We're both starting out and it's—it's admittedly daunting. It brings me joy, sure... but at the same time, it's like I'm looking at the great wide unknown that's the music industry.”

Joey immediately came into mind right then. I didn't want to think that, though.

“Have you done gigs, though?” I asked her.

“Oh, yeah. It's how I was able to get this place and all my things. But I still have a lot of fear, though.”

“Why's that?”

“There's a lot I have yet to reveal to myself.”

“To yourself?” I echoed her.

“Yeah. There's a lot I feel that—I'm not too sure to reveal yet.”

“Well... do you have an idea? Like, to get you moving?”

“Yeah, but—nothing that really sticks, though. I often feel like I can't write a good song.”

“What's your definition of a good song?”

She swallowed but never answered. Instead, she took a sip of tea. There was a lot on her mind and she had no way of getting it out of herself. And she wanted to record an album. I had time, but I also had my work cut out for myself. I wondered if I could make my way back to Rochester soon enough without a means of getting there besides arrowhead.

#the dead of night #the dead trilogy #the dead of night fanfic #scott ian #scott ian x oc #anthrax #anthrax fanfic #chapter 11 #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #fan writing #delicate romance #also on ao3 #text

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himikiyo · 3 years

Text

beautiful birthday // himikiyo week day 5

Himikiyo Week Day 5: Date night + Lazy morning

"Good morning," Kiyo mumbled, managing to make grogginess sound elegant. Their eyes opened slowly, lashes fluttering and still smudged with last night's makeup.

It's a few days after Himiko's birthday, and until the party that evening, they have absolutely nowhere to be.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Sunlight leaked through the gauzy curtains, making Himiko stir with a little whine of protest as she buried her face in the warmth of Kiyo's neck. The curtains were one of the rare splashes of pink in their room — frilly and speckled with a pale floral pattern that wouldn't look out of place in the room of someone much younger. They started off as a joke of sorts, a source of shared amusement between them. There weren't many options at the store when they went shopping their first year. Himiko was at one end of the aisle, looking at something she could no longer remember, when Korekiyo tapped her on the shoulder and showed her the curtains.

She really thought they were joking at first, her intimidating, goth roommate holding flowery pink curtains, but they weren't.

"Really, I'm serious," they said, seeming to frown behind their mask. "Maybe they're a little...out there, but I never would have been allowed to have anything like this in my room as a child. Isn't one of the good things about dorm life getting to be more independent and branch out a little?"

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied. "Sure, I don't mind them."

And so the curtains were theirs and remained so. Friends poked fun at them once in a while, but it was all good natured, and the two of them rarely had company in their dorm anyway. It felt nicer to keep that as a private place, somewhere safe to escape to. There was no shortage of others willing to offer their living spaces up for socializing. Neither of them always did much socializing either, for that matter. They had a small group of friends, but were just as happy to hang out with just each other.

An odd couple, their RA joked at first. It was just a turn of phrase back then, 'couple' in the sense of friends or roommates. Now though, they really were a couple, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Good morning," Kiyo mumbled, managing to make grogginess sound elegant. Their eyes opened slowly, lashes fluttering and still smudged with last night's makeup. It was rare for them to be too tired or careless to skip taking it off before bed, and Himiko savored the imperfection of it. She smiled as she looked at their sleepy face, a stripe of sunlight cutting right across the bridge of their nose — the brightness was probably what woke them up. The sharp jut of their hipbone was digging into her own, but she didn't mind it. She was long since used to all their edges, the way every inch of them fit against her.

"Morning," she replied. "How'd you sleep? Good?"

"Excellent."

She grinned, close enough to ghost kisses over their cheek. "I'd hope so with how early you passed out last night. Finishing that paper must've been tiring."

"Yes," Kiyo agreed, slow and measured, like that wasn't quite right. Sure enough, they had more to say. "But that wasn't the only reason. I also wanted to be fresh for your party today. And more importantly, I wanted you to be fresh. I knew you wouldn't go to sleep early if I was still awake."

It was impossible to hide her smile, not that she'd want to anyway.

"You know me too well," she admitted. "It'd be kinda scary sometimes if I didn't love you so much." Someone down the hall must have burned popcorn; she could smell it even through the closed door. Not bad enough to set the fire alarm off though, or it would already be blaring. So it was okay. Just the smell wasn't anywhere near enough to ruin this perfect morning.

"I love you more." Serious as always, they raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to disagree. In retaliation for that daring claim, she gently nudged them over onto their back and moved to drape herself on top of them, close enough to feel the rise and fall of their chest with each breath.

"Do not. I love you most." It was a childish argument of the sort they never tired of. Maybe verging on saccharine to outsiders, but what did that matter in private? They'd both been through more than enough sadness in their lives. It hardly seemed unreasonable to want to make each other as happy as they possibly could.

"Impossible." The slight, still-sleepy rasp to Kiyo's voice made her shiver pleasantly, something they noticed if the hand trailing along her spine was any indication. "You're awfully stubborn, Himi-chan."

"Maybe. You like me that way though."

"I do. Very much. If you're lucky, maybe I'll show you later."

"Later if I'm lucky, huh? Well, what are we doing now then instead?" She stifled a yawn, something that threatened to mix with a giggle in her throat. "Better hurry up and decide before I fall asleep again."

"Brunch?" they offered, still rubbing her back. "You'll have to help me pick out an outfit first." Ever the fashionable one. Most college students would be fine in sweatpants and a t-shirt for shambling to the dining hall on a weekend morning, but not Korekiyo. Any public outing required looking impeccable, and despite how lacking her own skills were in comparison, they always welcomed her input when she was in the mood to give it. She'd been there with them for lots of milestones, fashion-related and otherwise. Their skirts and dresses had sat unworn in their closet until she mentioned how pretty they looked in them, back before they were even dating.

"Of course, as long as you help me with mine too. Otherwise I might be tempted to just go in pajamas and embarrass you."

"You could never embarrass me by being yourself, my dear. But yes, I'll help you." Korekiyo punctuated that with an amused kiss, their words sweet but not sweet enough to try denying that some level of laziness was simply who she was.

Even with their encouragement, it was something of a battle to drag herself out of bed, as usual. But with no strict timetable on how quick they needed to get ready aside from their own hunger, she could manage, gently pushed along by the occasional cajoling from Kiyo as they got ready.

The world outside the covers was cold, as one would expect from early December. That helped guide her choices once it was time to stand in front of their closet, looking through the clothes hanging there. They got cold even more easily than her, so winter usually meant lots of layers, thick sweaters and jackets, all of which they made look amazing. Himiko’s hand ran over a soft, dark green cable knit, thinking for a moment before grabbing its hanger and pulling it out of the closet.

“How about this one?” she offered, glancing over her shoulder at them. “You wanted to try out that green eyeliner you got the other day, right? It’d match.”

“Yes, you’re right. I think that would be nice,” they said as they came up behind her.

It met their approval easily then, not that she expected anything different. Of course, the arms around her waist and the kisses on the back of her neck weren’t necessary for them to take the sweater from her, but Himiko certainly wasn’t complaining. They did birthday pampering well, treating her extra sweetly even now that the day itself had come and gone. And of course, she was careful to do the same each summer for theirs, just as they deserved.

“You keep distracting me,” she whined, clearly not serious about her complaints. “You’re the one who wants to go to the dining hall.”

“It’s not my fault it’s so easy.”

After the arms retreated from around her, she heard the soft rustling noises of clothing hitting the floor. Not exactly anything unfamiliar given how long they’d been dating, and the even longer amount of time spent living in such close proximity to each other. She rolled her eyes in amusement, not turning around.

“I’m not that easily distracted, you know.”

“I have no idea what you might be implying, Yumeno-san,” Korekiyo said, laying on the feigned seriousness and formality thick. She could envision their expression without so much as a glance. “That is, as the youth say, ‘kinda gay.’”

She just snorted, throwing their clean clothes over her shoulder at them.

“Says the second gayest person I know. Get dressed, you big lesbian. I want pancakes.”

When they finally did get to the dining hall, brunch was well worth the effort of getting out of bed and going out into the cold, late-morning air. They were able to snag their favorite table, tucked away in a corner by the windows. The sun streamed in just right, making the place look a little cheerier as they ate. The comfortable banter between them came and went throughout the meal, neither of them overly concerned about it. Chatter and silence were both equally comfortable.

Later, they’d be getting together with their eclectic group of friends for a belated birthday party. That would be fun too, she knew. Opening gifts, playing games, eating Kirumi’s amazing cooking, even watching the chaos from some of the more unpredictable ones among them. She was lucky to have so many people who cared about her.

It was all wonderful, and she was always careful to express her gratitude. But honestly, lazy mornings like this with Korekiyo were the best of all. They fit together so comfortably she could no longer imagine being without them, and she hoped she’d never have to.

She hadn’t told them, not wanting to spoil what was surely intended to be a surprise, but she knew about the ring box stashed in the back of a drawer.

Heart light, she reached over to steal a strawberry from their plate, giggling at their faked attempt to stop her. Being with them was the best birthday present of all.

#himikiyo #himikiyoweek2020 #korekiyo shinguji #himiko yumeno #dr #danganronpa #drv3 #m

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peace-coast-island · 3 years

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Diary of a Junebug

Cozy knits, cardamom donuts, and turtledove butterflies

There's something so warm and inviting about hand knitted stuff. Maybe I'm biased because I'm a knitter, but there's really something special about knitting things. With needles and yarn, the possibilities are endless!

This gyroid event is a cozy knitwear theme, a collaboration between Daisy Jane, Tiffani, and Rowan. Collecting gyroids around the camp has been putting me in the mood to knit again, specifically a big project.

It's been years since I've made a sweater but I really feel like making one. Sweaters tend to be a hit or miss with me, which is why I rarely make them. Measurements aren't my strong suit but they're a big deal if you're making clothes. Constant counting as well because you have to make sure you have the exact amount of stitches or else everything's off. Also, it takes commitment to make a sweater, even a simple one, so that's another reason why I stick to simple projects like scarves.

I'm in the process of looking up simple sweater patterns so let's see how long this spark of motivation lasts. Making a sweater can be frustrating and time consuming, but it really is rewarding when it's finally finished.

Tiffani and Rowan are here with us at the camp to join in on the event as well as take a well deserved vacation. I feel like it's been forever since I've seen either one - Tiffani had dropped by the camp a couple years ago while Rowan's been out and about traveling the world. It was a pleasant surprise to find out that they've been working on gyroid designs with Daisy Jane.

I'm glad to see many entourage members thriving, especially after things went downhill with the university. Tiffani started her own fashion line called Stellar where everything's ethically made and a good portion of the proceeds go to charities that help abuse victims. Being a survivor of child abuse, Tiffani puts a lot of time and effort to use her influence to spread awareness and resources to help those who need it.

Rowan, a figure skater, is the co-founder of Stellar. He too grew up in an abusive household and is also an activist for abuse victims as well as the trans community. He's got an interesting story, one of victory as he and a couple friends were responsible for taking down a corrupt fashion design label.

In fact, he's working on a memoir tentatively titled "How I Destroyed Traynor's By Being Super Fake". The title alone sounds like an interesting read. People have approached him for years about writing a book, something he was considering as he had a lot to say about his father and stepmother. By now enough time has passed that his ex-family are beyond caring so he can freely talk about them without dealing with their associates threatening him.

Rowan always had a complicated relationship with his father. His mother died of cancer when he was ten and he never forgave his father for not letting him say goodbye to her. Not too long after that Wilfred married his mistress Caitlin and Rowan gained two step-siblings, Portia and Chad. Wilfred and Caitlin created Traynor's Fashion, an elite luxury label that developed quite a reputation.

Growing up in that household was torture for Rowan, so he left as soon as he could. He found solace in ice skating, an activity he and his mom bonded over. Rowan practiced for hours while his so-called family mocked him and eventually his efforts led to him getting a scholarship with a shot at a career in competitive figure skating.

Unfortunate circumstances and burnout forced Rowan to go back home, where he was known as the loser who couldn't kick it in the real world. Determined to get out, Rowan tried to work his way up in Traynor's, only to remember that hard work at a place like that won't get him anywhere, especially for someone like him. Rowan considered fashion design as a backup if figure skating didn't work out, but Traynor's was the absolute last place he wanted to start over. He only stayed for a few months before getting kicked out because of Portia and Chad.

Rowan would’ve been broke and homeless if it weren’t for aspiring fashion designers Victor, Ella, and Michele. The three were screwed over by Traynor’s and were trying to put together evidence to bring the company down. Victor used to work there before getting thrown under the bus in order for the company to save face. If it wasn't for that alone, Victor would've quit anyway because of the toxic environment and questionable ethics. Michele, another fashion designer, had her career end before it even started when Portia and Chad stole her work and accused her of plagiarism. Ella was the founder of Fairytale Castle, a small fashion company that ended up shutting down because friends of Wilfred and Caitlin were sent to harass her and sabotage her designs.

With Rowan on their side, exposing Traynor’s corruption became a reality. By disguising himself as a snooty fashion designer named Creighton Adcock, Rowan was able to infiltrate the studio. He wore a ridiculous getup and sported an exaggerated English accent - the more fake he came across, the more believable he was. It was pure torture, having to pander to his so-called family but it was so totally worth it.

The big expose took place on an important night for Traynor's and overnight the company fell. Spite and revenge had never been sweeter. Most of the employees as well as Rowan's ex-family were stacked with numerous charges like harassment, assault, embezzling, tax evasion, unethical practices, etc - they got what they deserved. Of course, there was backlash but once that died down, Rowan and the others were ready to move on.

Rowan went back to ice skating, though more for performance than competition - which was the reason why he almost quit in the first place. While posing as Creighton, Rowan had to sit through some shit, so to unwind, he would go out to the ice rink. Being on the ice made him realize how much he missed skating, though not the competition part. Rowan always says he's more of a performer than a competitor - the latter being the reason why he almost gave up because it took away the fun for him.

As for fashion, he does some design on the side like Tiffani. Then the two got together and launched Stellar earlier this year. He considers his relationship with fashion design as a sort of love-hate thing. For obvious reasons Rowan grew to resent it, especially when his father tried to force him into the business. He didn't hate it entirely, but when it's associated with people who failed to give you a good upbringing, it's hard to separate the two. Though since meeting Jamie and going back to skating, Rowan's slowly stepping back into the fashion design world after being on the fence about it for so long.

Joining forces with Tiffani and starting Stellar was unexpected. The partnership just came together and before they knew it, they were coming up with a bunch of ideas together. I honestly was surprised to hear from Jamie that Rowan was working on fashion designs. Then Stellar launched not too long after and it's actually been kinda therapeutic for Rowan and Tiffani.

I'm glad that both of them are out there living their best lives, far, far away from their abusers - most of whom are in jail, thankfully. They got lucky and after what they've been through, they want to do whatever they can to help other abuse victims. They're the kind of people who keep their word and they actively work to make the world a better place. No performative bullshit here.

Tiffani and Rowan have been here for a couple days now, enjoying the camp and all its lovely scenery. We've been collecting knit gyroids around the camp and checking in with OK Motors. Rowan had some car trouble so it was lucky that it managed to survive the long trip from Peace Coast to here. Since his car's pretty old, the repairs will take a while, which he doesn't mind. Beppe's also throwing in a free paint job so the car will be like new once it's finished.

Yesterday we went to the mountain trail, where not only we found gyroids, but also turtledove butterflies. They only show up around this time and after three years, I finally got to see them! I hardly venture around these parts because it's kinda out of the way but now I'm slowly expanding my horizons.

Turtledove butterflies are such majestic creatures. From the way they flutter about, their soft blue and white patterned wings contrasting nicely with the mountain view - like straight out of a lovely painting!

There's so much around the camp that I have yet to explore, I hope one day I'll know these places like the back of my hand.

Along the way and back we collected gyroids. Crafting gyroid furniture is always fun, seeing what kind of stuff we can make from them. I love the cozy knitwear aesthetic so much, it's easily one of my favorite themes! Tiffani, Rowan, and Daisy Jane did an amazing job with the designs. Given how much fun they had with the planning, there's likely going to be a second collaboration in the future, which I'm definitely looking forward to.

In between collecting gyroids and camp activities, we also got into knitting. That's why I've been in a knitting mood again. Rowan just learned how to knit last year and it's his new favorite hobby. He made a pair of leg warmers that look super snazzy, Tiffani's working on a cute beanie, Daisy Jane got started on a pretty lace scarf, and I just finished with a beaded headband.

Now I'm looking for sweater patterns and I already have some saved. Since I'm rusty with clothes, I'm sticking to something simple. The seed stitch ones are catching my eye as it's a simple pattern that looks nice, especially in pastel since that's what I've been into lately. Hopefully by tomorrow I have settled on a pattern so I can get started while I'm in the mood.

Today was a chill day where we stayed at the main camp. In between crafting, collecting, and camping, we baked donuts. I was kinda intimidated by donuts because it involves using the deep fryer but the whole process itself isn't too complicated. Making the dough was easy, using the deep fryer took some getting used to.

We made a bunch of different kinds - cardamom cream, apple cider, vanilla spice, and pumpkin pecan. The cardamom and vanilla ones are from Emilia Eats, the apple cider from Rustic Kitchen, and pumpkin pecan from Calico Bakery. They're all great, though if I had to choose, my favorite would be the cardamom cream. Pumpkin pecan comes a close second.

Since the donuts were a hit, we're thinking of baking cookies next. Tiffani wants to try out a black sesame recipe, Daisy Jane bookmarked a maple hazelnut recipe, Rowan has his eye on chocolate chip cheesecake cookies, and I always wanted to try earl grey shortbread.

Right now, we're enjoying donuts while knitting and crafting gyroids. Rowan's really becoming a pro at knitting as he wants to take on cables next. I kinda have a love-hate relationship with cables - they look good but take a bit of effort. I'll admit I haven't quite mastered them yet as I can't do a simple cable without having to refer to a pattern as a reference.

Warm, cozy knitwear and fresh baked goods - it doesn't get any better than that!

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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itisannak · 5 years

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Sugar, oh honey, honey (Ashton Sugar Daddy Smut)

Summary: Ashton just wants to take care of his girlfriend, in any way he can. (Smut/ Sugar Baby-Sugar Daddy Dynamic / Unprotected Sex / Choking / Spanking / Unprotected Sex / Dirty Talk / Marking/ Face Fucking / Degradation / Fingering) (Request) (Words: 10k) ( Part 2 )

I tiptoe my way to my small kitchen, my nostrils already filling up with the smell of batter on the pan. I fix the white shirt that I slipped into as I enter the kitchen, being greeted by Ashton's back; it is weird how this is the first time I notice the tattoo on the back of his neck, or how his back is sculpted to perfection. "Hi." I whisper, wrapping my arms around his torso, resting them above his navel. "Hey, pretty girl. How did you sleep?" He asks, not turning to look at me, but his voice conveying the smile on his face. "Fine. How did you sleep? I know my bed can be uncomfortable..." I mutter; I did everything I could to stall Ashton staying at my place since compared to his is a freaking rat hole, but last night the moment came. "I got used to it. However, your stove is being a bitch to me today..." "Yeah, she is usually like that with men." I giggle, making him turn around and look at me. "I am not the first man to cook you breakfast in this stove?" He asks, fake-offended. "Well, I didn't want you to find that way..." I giggle as he picks me up to place me on the counter. "Oh my God... This is breaking my heart... Tell me who else has tried making you breakfast." "Well, there was this time I was shit-faced drunk and my best friend Tim made me breakfast. And that one time my brother did, so..." I giggle, while Ashton's hands bunch up my shirt. "Is this my shirt?" He asks, pulling me to sit on the edge of the counter. "Yeah. Sorry. It was close and I picked it up. I can take it off..." For a moment I freeze, realizing that this shirt probably costs as much as my rent if not more. "No, I like it on you. It is definitely better on you than me." He smiles, feeling the soft fabric with his fingertips. "Are you sure? It looks expensive... What if I stain it? I'll go change really quickly..." I try to hop off the counter, but Ashton's hands go to my thighs, keeping me in my place. "First thing first, if you stain it, the dry cleaner can take it off. And second, if you are worrying so much, I can take it off for you." He states, gripping tightly on my thighs. Momentarily, I feel insecure about my thick thighs and his fingers dipping on them, but as he brings one of his hands to the back of my head to pull me in for a kiss, the feeling fades away. His tongue pries my mouth open, humming as our tongues move together, trying to become in sync.

And while we are kissing, his fingers move to undo the buttons of his shirt that I am wearing. He is half-way done removing it, but the burnt smell makes him stop. "What's that?" He asks, scrunching his nose. We both turn to the stove, finding the pancakes turning onyx black. "The fucking pancakes..." He cries, taking the pan off the stove. I hop off the counter, moving to open the window and let the smoke out. "Goddamnit..." He groans, turning off the stove. "It's ok, baby. At least you tried..." I try to comfort him, wrapping my arms around him. "Let's go get dressed and get breakfast at that place you like." Ashton suggests, pressing a kiss on my forehead before he moves to get out of the kitchen. "Ash..." I stop him by gripping his wrist. "What?" He asks me, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't have enough money." I whisper, looking at my feet. "It's my treat." Ashton says like it is the most obvious thing in the world. "Ashton... You paid for dinner last night." I protest, making him roll his eyes at my remark. "And your point is...?" He asks me sarcastically. "Ash..." I protest again but receive the same response. "(Y/N), I want to pay for you and treat you right. You don't have to worry about money anymore. You are my girl." He states, making my stomach tighten; I love that he refers to me as his girl, but that doesn't mean I don't feel bad about him paying. "I know you mean no harm, but it kinda makes me feel like I am using you for money." I admit and he chuckles. "If you were using me for money, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I know how it is to live from paycheck to paycheck and for the last few days of the month eating crackers with ketchup because those are the only things in your cupboards. And I know your situation is not that dramatic, but still, I can offer you a much better life. So please, let me buy us some breakfast." He sighs, holding both my hands in his. For a moment I stare at him; I seem to forget where he comes from, how he wasn't always that comfortable with money. And for a moment I feel bad because I know that he probably had to eat crackers and ketchup at some point in the past. "That place you want us to go to is very expensive. But I know a diner close to Santa Monica pier which is far less expensive and has great food. Plus, it's less likely for paparazzi to spot us there." I offer and he sighs in defeat. "Fine. Just get dressed. I am hungry." He pulls me in for a quick peck before he picks me up over his shoulder to take me to my bedroom.

The traffic wasn't as bad as we expected when we got in the car, so we soon are cuddling up on our booth, a mug of warm coffee in our hands. It feels like everything has stopped here, quietness being evident and comforting in the place. My legs are resting over his lap while his fingers stroke my hair softly as we wait for our food to arrive. "Can I ask you a question?" He asks me out of the blue. "Sure." I reply, sitting up a bit better to look at him. "You were hellbent on me not staying at your place. I didn't pay much attention to it in the beginning, but after last night, I keep on having the same question in my head. Are you ashamed of your house?" He asks me; I can read the hesitation in his voice, which makes me feel a little awkward about answering the question. "Not really. Just... You are used to seeing all those aesthetically pleasing houses and talk about how you love indoor decoration, so I didn't want you to... I don't know, pity me... Which is exactly what is happening now, I can see it in your eyes." I turn my face away from him, making him cup my jaw softly and turn it back. "I am not pitying you. You are in college, working, and paying for yourself. It is badass. And you shouldn't have to worry about what I am going to think about your house, or how you get by." He replies, kissing my nose. "And I am going to say it again, you are my girl, you don't have to worry about money anymore." He states, leaving his mug on the table. "Well, if I don't worry about money, then at the end of the month I will have to find a really nice cardboard to stay in because my landlord will kick me out." I chuckle, but shivers run down my spine just at the thought. "Good. Well, not the part where you have to stay in cardboards... But I would really like to find you somewhere better to stay." He says, making me chuckle. "Yeah, you know that I will have to afford that better place, right?" I ask, taking a sip from my coffee. "No. Not if I pay for it." He replies, again like it is the most natural thing to come out of his mouth. "No." I state, being completely negative about this. "Hear me out." "There is nothing to hear about, Ash... This is on the verge of becoming your sugar baby. If your fans find out about that, they are going to start believing I am with you just for the money." I freak out, already playing in my head the whole scenario. "No one will have to find out about that. And so what if you become my sugar baby? We both know you are not with me for the money, my friends know that, and everyone who matters knows that. If you want to call being a decent boyfriend and worrying about where my girlfriend stays, becoming a sugar daddy, then I am fine with that. I want to fucking spoil you. Literally, spoil you..." He explains, pulling me in for a kiss. "I don't know." I mumble; I have to admit that it is very sweet of him. "Let me just look for a place. At the end of the day, I will be spending time there too, so it is like our house, but we won't have to live together every day." He says, making me roll my eyes at him. "Fine, you can look for a place. But that doesn't mean that I am saying yes to that, or that this is infinite." I point out and he nods. "It's your terms, baby." He smirks, pulling me in for a kiss.

"You look too nice today..." I comment as I enter Ashton's car. He smirks mischievously at me, shrugging his shoulders. "Do I?" He asks, starting the car again. "Yeah, I feel underdressed compared to you." I reply, looking at him with my eyes half-closed. "You are going to make me blush." He giggles, putting his arm behind my headrest as he tries to pull out. I bite my lip, feeling the need to press my thighs together to contain myself from getting turned on by the non-sexual act. "I thought we were having pizza and a movie. This outfit is not for pizza and movies." I state, pointing to the hard-collar white shirt and the tailored flannel trousers. "If you just stay patient for just one moment, I swear to God you'll find out." Ashton replies, shaking his head chuckling at how impatient I am becoming by the moment. "You could have told me if we are going somewhere special, I could have dressed a bit better..." I mutter under my breath, fumbling with the hem of my sweater. "You look perfect. Even if you were wearing pajamas, you would still be perfect." Ashton replies, still driving without giving me a clue of where we are heading.

"Hi. We are here for the penthouse. The realtor is waiting for us." Ashton says to the man in the lobby. I look at him confused, from the moment we've entered this posh building the look is plastered on my face. "Can you give me your name, please?" The man asks, with a patronizing smile on his lips. "Irwin and (Y/L/N)." Ashton replies, gripping onto my waist tightly. "Yes, they've been expecting you. Take the back elevator and press the button that reads PNT." The man instructs us before Ashton nods and thanks the man politely. "We are here for the penthouse? The realtor is waiting for us?" I ask, turning to stand in front of Ashton. "Mhm..." Ashton hums in reply, simply smiling at me. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down, stopping myself from opening this conversation further with him. The elevator stops, prompting us to exit the booth. However, instead of walking on a hall, we are left outside a single door, which is opened by a cheerful but professional-looking lady. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Irwin." She greets us. "Uh, Ms. (Y/L/N)..." I mutter and she looks at me shocked. "I am sorry, Ms. (Y/L/N). It is a pleasure to meet you both. Shall we get in?" She asks, motioning for us to walk further into the house. "As you can see, the place has been renovated recently, and it bears no signs of wearing down. The rooms have individual air conditioning to accommodate your needs. On the balcony, you'll find a gorgeous infinity pool, with the prettiest view of Ocean Avenue. The house is pet-friendly, so you won't have a problem if you have little furry friends." "Well, we have a lemon tree as a pet..." Ashton chuckles, putting on his charming facade. "Well, I don't see a problem with it. Shall we see the bedroom?" She asks with a chuckle. "Let's." He replies, gripping my waist as we move in. "Uh, can you please excuse us for a second?" I ask the lady, stopping in my tracks as we move down the hall. "Of course. I will be in the bedroom. Come find me when you are ready." She excuses herself, moving forward. "Is everything alright, princess?" Ashton asks me, moving in front of me and cupping my face. "What are we doing here?" I ask, looking around me nervously. "We are looking at our potentially new house. Well, your house. I told you that I would be staying here as well some times, but I would like for us to have like a settling, trial session first, to see how this rolls." He mumbles, but I raise my hand to stop him from spiraling. "Ash... This looks fucking expensive. There is no way in the world I could afford such a place." I state and he chuckles. "You should not worry about that part. Worry about whether you like this place or not." He replies, pecking on my forehead. "So, it is official... I am becoming your sugar baby." I chuckle sarcastically. "If that's what you'd like to call it, fine. I don't see you as such, though." He replies. "And how would you call that? This predicament between us?" I ask, feeling a little guilty. "I wouldn't label it. But if you wish to, let's call it me wanting the best for my baby." He replies, hugging me by my waist. I sigh and roll my eyes, pouting my lip before I take his hand in mine. "Ok, let's see the rest of the house." I say, making him smile.

We walk into the bedroom, hand in hand, finding the realtor waiting for us with a smile spreading on her face. "Everything ok? Should we continue?" She asks us. "Yes, we are eager to see the rest of the house." I am the one to reply, with Ashton just nodding his head and rubbing his thumb over my hand. "So, as you can see, the bedroom has a wall-to-wall window, viewing the city. However, the glass is a one-way mirror, ensuring that no one will be able to see you through that. This is the master bedroom, having a closet room and a master bathroom with a marble bathtub, big enough to fit 2 people. It is important to state that the house has been soundproofed and thermoproofed. There is one more bedroom in the house, which might be smaller, but it is comfortable for guests. Would you like to see it?" She asks us. It is clear that she has memorized a script, but still, the words coming out of her mouth sound mesmerizing. "I don't really think we need to. Could you show us the back balcony, instead?" Ashton asks and the lady nods her head, motioning for us to get out. We walk through the kitchen, which looks stunning and honestly as big as my apartment of not bigger. "As you can see, it is a more private balcony with a hot tub and a built-in barbeque. There is not much to say about this balcony, so, I will let the two of you enjoy the peace it offers." I close my eyes, leaning my head on Ashton's shoulder as I feel myself becoming calmer. "You love the place, don't you?" He asks, stroking small circles on my waist. "I do. But with all those things in here, it will cost a small fortune to even rent this place." I sigh. "When you said you would try to find me a better place, I pictured a neat little apartment, this is like a flatted out villa." I exclaim and he chuckles. "I can afford it. And I could afford even more expensive ones. The question is if you like it. Cause if you do, I can sign the lease right now." He states, looking at me reassuringly. "I adore it. Not as much as I adore you, though. But I love this place and I can see us in it." I bite my lip as I admit it. "Then I can tell the realtor to bring the papers and hand you the keys, cause this is your new place." He chuckles, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Are you sure about that?" I ask him, still holding back. "If I wasn't sure, we wouldn't be here. I want you to stay in this pretty place, wear pretty clothes, go to pretty places. I want you to have pretty things in your life because you are the prettiest thing in my life. And I want to offer you what you are offering by just being in my life. So, please, let me do this for you. Let me get you this place. For you... And maybe for us, at some point in the future." He pecks on my lips before he moves to talk to the realtor.

Since the penthouse was pretty much furnished, I only had to move my clothes and books, pretty much my personal stuff. So, settling in the new place, was pretty easy, even if I hadn't had the help of Ashton. So, very soon, I am settled in the new, gorgeous house, working on some coursework and sipping on wine while Ashton cooks for me in the huge kitchen. I am sitting on the top of the counter, not minding if I stand in the way of Ashton cooking dinner since he is using the other half of the huge kitchen. I type away on my laptop, trying to find a way to connect the bibliography of current research to the discussion part of my essay, while Ashton is humming a tune under his breath. "Baby, can you try the sauce, please? I want your input on the saltiness." He asks me, making me leave the laptop on the counter and slide close to him. He brings the spoon to my lips, and I blow on it to make it a bit colder before I taste it. I moan, closing my eyes as my tastebuds perk up in contact with the sauce. "How did you learn how to cook so good?" I ask him, picking up my wine glass. "Had to. Luke can't even boil eggs, so I had to feed him when he was staying with me." He chuckles, going back to whatever magic he is working on in the stove. "You eat your steak medium-well, right?" He asks, poking the meat with a fork. "Yep. Need some help?" I ask, ready to hop off the counter. "No, I will need you to finish this coursework soon, though. I am very close to serving dinner." He replies, smiling without looking at me. "I am trying... Daddy." I tease him by using his kink against him, making him shoot me a look. "Jesus... Can you please not use this now? I won't hesitate..." He groans, leaning on the counter and supporting his body by his palms, to the point where his tensed back can be seen through his t-shirt. "Won't hesitate to do what, daddy?" I push the limits, hearing a groan escape his mouth. "(Y/N)..." He growls, looking at me in a bossing manner. I purse my lips and shrug, moving back to finish my assignment. Ashton seems to try and catch his breath, taking a moment before he sits up and goes back to cooking. I sneak a look at him, finding a newly formed tent protruding in his pants.

"Is it hot in here? It is getting a bit hot, huh?" I ask, fanning myself and earning Ashton's attention. "I don't know. Maybe it is from the stove?" Ashton replies. Seconds before he turns his head back to the pan, I grab the hem of my t-shirt, raising it over my head and leaving me in my little lacy bra. "So hot in here..." I mumble, dropping the t-shirt behind me as if nothing is happening. I can see him with the corner of my eye, gawking at me as I am left in my grey sweatshorts and lingerie. He blinks a couple of times, trying to play it cool but clearly being surprised by my sudden action. "Yeah, it is getting a bit hot..." He mumbles, grabbing the back of his t-shirt and removing it as well. He throws the t-shirt my way, making me catch it while smirking. I pick up my glass and take a sip; well, I purposely let a bit of my wine slip from my lips, falling to my chest and eventually stain my bra. "Oops, made a mess..." I fake innocence, getting Ashton's attention back to me. I swipe away the drop of wine with my hand before I fake pout at the stain. I sigh and reach behind my back, unhooking my bra and letting it slide off my chest. "(Y/N), please... I am trying to cook..." Ashton sighs, finally showing me clearly that he is affected by how I am acting. "I am not standing in the way." I protest and he grimaces at me. "You are distracting me..." He states, slamming the spatula on the counter. "I am? Am I a distraction, Mr. Irwin?" I ask, scooting closer to him. "Stop it... You are making me hard and trust me, you won't like me taking out on you, princess. Your ass gets red pretty easily." He replies, his tone changing completely to his bossy, harsh one. "Maybe it is what I want, daddy." I shrug and he chuckles at me, cocking an eyebrow. "You are a filthy little slut..." He spits out, half disgusted, half-amused by my need for him. "You like it..." I assert, licking my lips, while his body tenses. "I freaking love it." He admits, gripping onto my thighs to pull me closer to him. He slots himself between them, cupping my face with his left hand before he pulls me in for a kiss. I don't have time to even try to gain dominance as his tongue greedily explores my mouth. My hands can move nowhere other than his shoulders, letting my nails graze his skin a little. "The food... I am going to burn the food..." Ashton moans, pulling away from my lips just for a second. I moan in protest, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Fuck the food." I whine, bringing my lips to his. "I'd rather fuck you..." He sasses in between kisses. "We want the same thing then." I moan, moving my lips to kiss his jaw. "Let me just pull the pan off the stove..." He says, and I roll my eyes, taking my legs off from around his waist.

I watch him as he checks the meat and sighs happily, turning off the stove and putting the pan to cool off. "The food is ready." He announces, walking back to me. I pout and shrug my shoulders at this, feeling a little disappointed that we won't get to do any of the things I had in mind for before dinner. "We can eat then..." I mumble, trying to hop off the counter, but his hands pin me down by my thighs. "I'd rather have my dessert first." He side-smirks, pushing me a bit further onto the counter before he climbs onto it as well. "Dessert? I think we have some ice cream in the fridge. Should I go get it?" I play it dumb, earning a chuckle from him. "That ice cream won't taste nearly as good as you, babygirl." He whispers, hovering above me as his hands rest on either side of my head. "So, what are you waiting for... daddy?" I am amused by the look on his face, feeling my core becoming slick with my need for him to slip inside me. "I am trying to be cute with you and treat you like a princess, but you get ahead of yourself and tease me like that." He growls, bringing his hand to wrap around my throat. His fingers press onto it, his hand resting right under my jaw. I barely can draw a breath, but this excites me; I know that in the next few seconds the grip will loosen up, and he will let me breathe, but the primitive instinct takes over, feeling overpowered and in danger. I smile as he gives me a harder grip, while his other hand moves to snatch off my shorts. "Would you look at that... Look at that nasty smile. Look how good you look with my hand around your throat." He chuckles, making me buck my hips up and let him take off my shorts before his fingers move to cup my clothed center, feeling how wet I am. He smiles satisfied, rubbing on my clit for a few seconds, before he takes off the hand that was around my throat, and brings it to tear off my underwear. He raises my bum on the air, bringing his hand down to collapse on my ass. "That's for teasing me while I was trying to cook." He states after the impact, resting his hand flat on the spot he slapped. "That's for taking off your shirt while I was cooking." He spanks me again, this time around harder than the previous. "And that's for taking off your bra." He hisses and I whine as I start feeling the sting if his hand landing on my ass. "And that's for calling me daddy when you know how hard that makes me." This one is the hardest one, bringing tears to my eyes. "And that's for not even being sorry." He delivers the final slap, gripping onto my red ass after he is done. He lets my ass fall back on the cold marble counter, the chilling surface coming in contrast to my burning ass. "How would you feel if I left you like that, high and dry?" He asks, making me whimper in protest as I wipe my eyes. "It wouldn't be fair, daddy... I need you... So badly..." I whine, pouting my bottom lip out as I take my puppy eyes. I know it is his weakness and I know that I might get in trouble for using his weakness against him, but I have to put the big guns in use. "Need me, huh? Didn't you just have me this morning?" He asks, but his Adam's apple pops out as he observes me, signaling that he is tensing up, trying to hold back from thrusting inside me. "Yes, but it's been so long... So so long... And I am aching for you, daddy... Don't you wanna feel me around you?" I ask, my breathing becoming hitched. He doesn't reply; he just groans, lowering his head until his lips touch my hipbone. He presses open-mouthed kisses on my skin, lowering slowly to my center where he just uses his fingers to spread my lips apart. "You are glistening... You look so pretty under that light..." He mumbles, mostly coming to realization for himself.

I look at him, trying to study his face and the way his body moves, slowly but steadily. He pulls me by my leg towards him, the sliding of my still sore and pink ass on the counter making me whine for a moment and Ashton throws me a dirty look, with his eyes shining under the light. I watch him as he lowers his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his throbbing cock. He places my left leg on his shoulder while he runs his tip along my folds a couple of times. My chest inflates and falls as he taps my clit with the head of his cock, seconds before he slips inside me. He makes me feel every inch of him as he goes in slowly, my leg on his shoulder gives him deeper access, which he uses to his advantage. I feel my stomach tighten up as he thrusts inside me, making me moan his name and ask him for more. He pulls out of me, making me whine at the loss of contract, and causing a smirk to spread on Ashton's lips. "What's the matter, princess? Miss my cock?" He taunts me, without giving me time to respond before he slips inside me again. I pulse around him, instantly feeling relieved that he is inside me again. He moves slowly, almost agonizingly, making me feel every inch of his throbbing cock. All I do is whimper while I feel myself falling deeper into lust. "You want that cock, baby? You want more of me?" He asks me, pushing my chin to the sided so he has access to my neck. He doesn't use his lips, only his teeth are grazing down my neck, leaving marks on my skin. "More... Please..." I beg, trying to move my hips on his to get him where I want him. "More? Getting greedy, huh?" He asks, smiling cockily against my skin. "Please, daddy. I need all of you." I pout, closing my eyes to let the sensation he is giving me sink in my body fully. Ashton throbs inside me, signifying that he is feeling the same way; he needs all of me. Not that he doesn't have me already. "You are so fucking wet for me... So fucking wet." He says through gritted teeth, moving his lips up to kiss mine. I feel a knot form inside me, aching to be snapped. But the tempo Ashton has set is too slow to drive me over the edge; he knows how to drive me fucking insane, keep me just on my edge but not let me cross it. "I need you to go a bit faster... Please, please go a bit faster..." I cry out, gripping onto his body. I let my nails rake down his back, while Ashton hums teasingly and presses my hips down. I wrap my legs around his waist, moaning his name, just before he slams into me with all he has. My eyes go wide and my mouth opens, incoherent curses coming out of it as I feel him give me everything I want. "I want to cum... I need to cum. Please..." I gasp, my chest heaving up as I let out the words. "You are such a good, and polite little doll. You should have everything you want, princess. Cum for me..." He coos me, making me nod my head as he keeps on slamming right where I need him. "I am close too, princess. Where do you want me to cum?" He asks me, hissing through his teeth. "Inside me, please. I want all of you." I whine, the prospect of his warm cum filling me up exciting me. He simply smiles, leaning down to kiss me. I bite his lip and pull on it a little while everything inside me intensifies; every touch, thrust, kiss, is more intense than its previous. It is me and him, fucking on the top of a counter, in a house that I could never imagine living in even in my wildest dreams, so nothing else matters right now, even my assignment waiting, or the food staying incomplete and unconsumed.

With a few more thrusts I cum around him, pulsing against his cock as I scream his name. I arch my back, throwing my head back and looking at him tensing up and getting all red and sweaty. "You look so beautiful when you cum." He whispers, resting his hand on my face. I smile as I try to regain my breath, feeling like I am in some kind of euphoria as he chases his peak and holds me close. "Cum for me, daddy. I need to feel you." I whisper and he whines, twitching inside me. He lets out a throaty groan as he cums inside me, closing his eyes as he tenses up before relaxing completely. "Shit, you make me feel so good..." He whispers as he gasps for air, his forehead resting on mine. I feel his breath hitting my face, warming me up a little "I love you." I whisper back, pecking lightly on his lips. "Good. Cause I love you too." He smiles, responding with a kiss on my nose.

I feel the warm covers and the soft pillows engulf my body as the light pierces through the large window. I hum sleepily, refusing to get out of my slumber just yet. So I turn to my side and throw an arm over Ashton's side, hoping to find him lying next to me. But my arm falls on the mattress, making me groan frustrated. "Morning sleepy head." I hear him say from the end of the bed. I sit up a bit, bringing my knees to my chest as I look at him. "Morning. Nice back..." I comment, smirking at the marks I've left on his body last night. "Thanks. You fucked me up good." He chuckles, crawling towards me. "No, you fucked me up well last night..." I bite my lip, leaning close to him. He places a hand behind my head, pulling me in for a quick kiss. "Wanna stay for round 2?" I ask, parting just an inch from him. "Mm, wish I could. But we have a meeting in the records and then a writing session..." He sighs and I pout, whining that he will have to leave. "But... Can't you stay a little longer? At least for some breakfast?" I ask, letting my fingers graze his chin. "I can't, baby... I am sorry." He looks bummed by this as well, so I have to step up and let him know he shouldn't. "It's ok, my love. Will I see you tonight?" I ask, my voice becoming soft. "I have an event to attend. You know, PR and everything. But you can come with me, it will be fun." His face lights up just at the prospect of us spending the night together. "Are you sure?" I ask, not wanting to become a burden or cause a problem. "Of course. Wear something nice and I'll pick you up at 9." He says, reaching in the nightstand to pick out his wallet. He hands me a credit card and as I try to protest and hand it back, he puts it in my palm and closes his fingers around it. "You've never asked for anything. I want you to have everything." He reminds me, leaning in to press a kiss on my forehead. "Just once, and only because we are going to a PR event." "I wouldn't mind if you bought something special for after, just for my eyes only." He winks before he moves to put on his t-shirt. "Just once..." I remind him and he chuckles. "Whatever you want, baby. But I don't want you to worry about the prices. Get whatever you want, ok?" He says, making me nod.

I decide to snuggle up against his pillow for a little longer, craving a bit more sleep after last night's activities. My body feels sore but in a sweet, mellow way, reminding me of how good it was last night. I smile as I sprawl out on the bed, humming happily as I close my eyes and let myself fall back into sleep, just for a few more moments.

I wake up after 12, stretching my body with a smile on my face. I feel rested, calm, and happy, almost like I have no worries right now. I reach on the bedside table, grabbing my phone from it and yawning to shake the sleepiness off my body. I unlock my screen and see a notification from Ashton, with his usual morning text that never fails to bring a smile to my face. I decide to reply with a selfie, nothing provocative, but enough to give him a hard time for not staying the morning with me. I get off the bed and opt for a quick snack while I get ready for my shopping spree, a cereal bar, and some juice will do; either way, I am not going to be out of the house for long. As I exit the shower, I hear my phone ringing from the bedroom, so I rush to it, smiling big as I see Ashton's contact on my screen. "Hey, baby." I cheer, plopping on the bed. "You think it is fair to send me pictures like that one?" He asks me, sounding frustrated. I giggle a bit and bite my lip, enjoying him fangirling over me as I do over him most of the days. "It was just my face..." "Yeah, which looks absolutely gorgeous, especially under that light. It is unfair..." He whines, which makes me giggle. "Well, I thank you for your compliment, but it is your fault you are not here to enjoy that face. And those lips, which would be wrapped around your cock if you stayed. And I would be looking at you through my lashes... It's a pity you are not here cause I've just gotten out of the shower and I smell like that coffee and creme shower gel I bought and I am wearing nothing but a towel... Which, oops, just unwrapped from my body." I tease him, enjoying the sound of his hard breathing. "Vulgar and unfair and I love this, but it makes it so hard for me not to drive back and have you for myself." He admits, chuckling a little at the end. "Well, you can't, because I am leaving in a bit to go shopping for tonight." I reply and he huffs. "Will I get pics from the dressing room?" He asks me, whispering it since I assume he might be heard. "I was thinking that today we could just not talk to each other until you come and pick me up." "Why?" He asks surprised. "It will feel old-school and maybe get us a bit more excited about seeing each other." I explain my train of thought, unsure of how he is going to receive it. "I guess we could try..." He sighs, sounding a bit sad. "If you don't want to, we can just ditch it." I mumble, getting off the bed to pull together an outfit. "No, I would like to try it, princess. I wanna see how much you'll miss me by the end of this." He gets a bit cocky, bringing a smirk to my face. "Ok then. I will see you tonight. I love you." I say as I flip through the clothes. "I love you too. I'll pick you up at 9. Have fun shopping." He coos before we hang up.

Shopping for a dress and lingerie turned into a full-blown spoiling myself trip. I got my hair, makeup, and nails done, bought a lavish set of lingerie and a red, skin-tight slip dress, even got a new pair of shoes. I only started feeling guilty about spending money when I put together everything, so as I wait for Ashton to pick me up, I definitely feel a knot in my stomach, surely being more anxious about him scolding me about spending than his opinion on my outfit. Soon, the door opens and Ashton walks in, dressed in a fancy blazer and holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. "Wow... I am certainly underdressed." He states, walking up to me and pressing a kiss on my lips. I am tensed and he senses it, so he takes a step back to look at me examiningly. "Is everything alright, baby?" He asks me, leaving the roses on the coffee table. "I... I am so sorry." I apologize, making him knit his eyebrows together. "What happened, baby?" He asks, taking my hands in his and guiding me to sit on the couch. "I've spent a lot of money today. I don't know what gotten into me, but I only realized how much I spent after I got back." I explain and watch him chuckle. He approaches me calmly, pressing a kiss on my forehead. "How much did you spend?" He asks me, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Around a thousand..." I bite my lip, waiting for his reaction. He giggles and presses a kiss on my lips, stroking my cheek. "That's not much, princess. I have spent more on just a single shirt." "Yes, but it was your money... I have spent your money and I feel bad now..." I pout and he sighs. "How many times do I have to tell you that what is mine is yours? I want you to have whatever your heart desires, princess. I wanna spoil you rotten. So, please don't feel bad. It makes me very happy that you have spent my money to look so fucking good... " He pecks on my forehead and I kind of relax. "I will pay you back..." I whisper and he hums. "Looking so good for our date is enough payback for me, baby." He lowers his head to kiss me softly. "And now, we should get going, because management is going to give me crap for showing up late." He stands up, extending his hand for me to take it. "Plus, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave, and the sooner you get to see what's under this dress." I whisper, reaching up to kiss him softly. "Crap..." He whispers under his breath just as we walk out of the door.

"You look fucking lavish. Everyone is looking at you..." Ashton whispers as he hands me a drink. I smile, resting my head back on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Jealous much?" I ask, bringing the glass to my lips. "Why would I be? They can look all they want, I get to have you to myself every night." He replies, bitting on my earlobe lightly. I purr and close my eyes, for a moment relaxing in his arms and forgetting we are in public. "You get all of this, any time you want, daddy." I whisper, grinding my ass against him. I hear his breath becoming shallow, the grip on my body tightening up as to show to everyone I am his. "Everyone is looking at us, princess. Behave." He whispers, leaving a little kiss on my temple. "What if I don't?" I ask, turning around. I rest my hand on his chest and look up to him while his hand rests on the small of my back. "You know I won't hesitate to shove my fingers in your pretty little pussy right in front of everyone, right?" He asks me; I get all giddy by the statement, wiggling a little and he seems to enjoy that. "What time can we go home? I kinda fucking need you." I whine, biting my lip as I watch him get close to losing it. "In a bit, baby. We need to be seen at the party. Then we are off." He replies softly, containing himself. "I give you 30 minutes." I reply and he narrows his eyes at me. "I don't think that you are the one to judge that, my love." He remains calm and collected, but his hand on my back becomes more firm.

"I had so much fun tonight..." I giggle as I unlock the door to the penthouse. I lose my step a little, making Ashton wrap his arms around my body to catch me. "Did you have one too many?" He asks as we get inside the house. "No, I am fine. I wanted to be in clarity when I finally have you all to my own." I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Oh, is that so?" He asks, smirking at me before he leans down for a quick peck. I hum and he guides us down the hall to our bedroom, his hands staying on the zipper of my dress, ready to drag it down and get that dress off my body. I pull his head down to kiss him as I walk backward inside the room, my fingers tangling in his styled curls. The only thing I want now is to be pinned down on the mattress, pleasured by him while I make him feel like we are in heaven. "Want me, princess?" He asks me as my legs meet with the edge of the mattress. "So much. Don't you want me, baby?" I ask, feeling my breath hitch as he lays me on the bed before he hovers over me. "I prefer showing you how much." He replies, dragging down the zipper. He lets the spaghetti straps slip down my arms as he moves to kiss my collarbone. "You smell so good." He whispers, sucking and biting on my skin. I moan, arching my back off the mattress. "You talk too much for someone who rathers show." I whisper while Ashton's hands work on getting the dress off my body. "I thought you loved praising, princess." He kisses just above the little bow in the middle of my buster. "I do. But right now I need you to go a little faster. Please, daddy." I whimper, pleadingly. "I love the sounds you make." He smiles against my skin, dropping my dress on the floor. I sit up, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands cup my face while I bite and nibble on his lip. My hands move to undo his shirt while playing a little with the chain around his neck. In a rush of confidence, I push him to lay on the mattress and straddle him, making him gasp shockingly in the kiss. "Wanna ride you..." I state, parting just a little bit from him. "Then go ahead, princess." He seems surrendered, waiting for my next move. I move lower, undoing his pants and lowering them along with his briefs on his thighs. His cock rests on his stomach, looking so hard that the vein that runs along his underside is throbbing. I lick my lips as I look at him, slipping out of my lingerie. "It is a good set, baby. I loved it on you." He comments as I move up, sitting on his cock. I feel him along my slit, making my clit tingle a little. "Should I put it back on?" I ask, wiggling my hips a little, trying to get a little bit of comfort, ease the tingling sensation spreading on my core. "As much as I love expensive lingerie on you, I will always adore you naked." He replies, placing a hand on the curve of my waist. He strokes his thumb over my ribs, while I try to pull myself together and just ride him. I raise my bum in the air and he holds his cock up for me, allowing me to position his tip right on my entrance. And as I lower my hips, I take him in me, reaching down on his pecs to hold myself upright. I hear him groan as I move slowly, arching my back and throwing my head back a little as I feel myself pulse around him. "Can you push your tits together, baby? I wanna see them like that..." He hisses, looking at me as I bounce on him. He moves my arms so they press my boobs together, while I rock on him. My toes curl as I feel him brush over the spot I need him to, forcing me to release a throaty groan. My palms are now flat on his stomach, nails digging in his skin. "Holy fuck... Shit, don't do that." He hisses, stretching his neck to the side. "Do what?" I ask, rocking my hips back and forth, giving my clit a little attention, a little bit of the friction it craves. "You know damn well what the fuck I am talking about, princess. Get your pretty little claws off my skin." He orders, his voice coming through gritted teeth. "Don't they feel nice, daddy? I got them a bit pointy just for that..." I sing, arching my back forward as I almost lay on him. My breasts are on his face while bounce on him, putting all of my force on it. He groans, moving his hands up my body and cupping my breasts. "Come on... Don't fucking play with me. I need release, babygirl. I need to cum, princess..." He whines; he is usually dominant, powerful, confident, but right now he is pudding under my hands. "Oh yeah? Where do you want to cum, daddy? Tell me..." I gasp, while my ass plops down on him. "God damn it, you little brat... You think you are all-powerful over me, huh?" He asks, wrapping his lips around my nipple. "It seems like it." I reply, moving my hands to wrap around his throat. "Well, you should wait until I can get my hands on you and see who has the upper hand..." He threatens me, but his voice comes out whiny and soft. "You really are free to flip me over and fucking own me. No one and nothing is restraining you, babyboy." I smirk at him, pressing my thumb on his throat. He gasps and looks at me with his mouth agape, for sure not expecting me to talk back.

For a second I was convinced that he wouldn't do anything. But I was too drunk on the feeling of dominance that momentarily I forgot he is not fucking around. So, from being on top of him, I am found on my back, legs spread wide and one of them fixed on his shoulder blade as he runs his tip on my entrance. My hands move to his arms, gripping onto him as he thrusts inside me, angrily, almost mercilessly. "I fucking told you I would. I fucking told you... I bet you are regretting being a brat... I bet you are regretting being fucking cocky." He grunts, delivering a slap right on my ass. I scream, pain and pleasure becoming a hazy mixture in me. He fucks me like he hates me, but his hands stroke my body in the most loving way. "I wanna cum." I lisp, unable to say anything more. My body feels like it is on overdrive, processing every feeling imaginable within a period of a few seconds. "Yeah?" He asks, a mischievous smirk spreading on his face. I nod and he chuckles, pulling out of me. He moves up, kneeling next to my face before he pulls it to the side and gives me a light slap. "Open up." He commands, holding his cock in front of my lips. I whimper at the loss of feeling him inside me. "But..." I protest but he throws me a dirty look while clenching his jaw. "No buts. Open your fucking mouth." He barks and I have no other choice but to open my mouth. He shoves his cock in, pushing it so far inside that I gag. I try to bob my head, but his hips move to fuck my face. "Keep your mouth open. You are good at never shutting up either way." He spits out, slapping my cheek. I feel my eyes tear up, both from the slap and from gagging on his cock. My body is still trying to hold onto building my high, so I hesitantly lower my hand to my core. I feel myself sleek with wetness, twitching as I rub my clit slowly. "Get your fucking hand off, princess. This is mine and only mine." He snatches my hand off and lands his hand on my pussy. "You are just a set of holes for me, aren't you? Look at you grooling... Look how pathetically wet you are for me..." He degrades me, making me more excited for him. His fingers rub from my clit, down to my entrance, before they slip into me, pumping fast. I cough around his dick, feeling saliva running from the corner of my mouth. "You are pulsing around my fucking fingers. You wanna cum?" He asks, stroking my hair with his free hand. I nod my head, my throat spasming around his cock, burning as he fucks it. "You can cum, babygirl... After I do." He chuckles on the last part, moving his fingers faster inside me. I groan, feeling my face tensing back as he thrusts faster, a bit more violently than before. He is fucking close, but that is not good enough for me. I need him to cum now, so I can cum as well. I twirl my tongue a little along the underside of his cock, hoping to make things faster for him. All that is heard are his moans and my groans, and his cursing and my gagging. He is pumping his fingers in me, banging them against my spot. I try to hold back, think of anything else but cumming, but my mind keeps rushing to the euphoric feeling I will get when I cum. "Fucking shit." He pulls his cock out of my mouth, stroking it over my face as he cums. His fingers move inside me still, and now his thumb rubs my clit in vigorous circles. I stick my tongue out and taste the cum near my mouth, causing him to sigh happily as he looks at me. "You can cum, pretty girl." He softens, gawking at me as I lick my lips. I can't see him straight since his cum is in my eyes and his fingers drive me insane. I arch my back as I cum, biting my lip as I whine. His fingers still move, prolonging my high, but my body seems to resist him, jolting back. However, Ashton's fingers still insist on keeping me high.

"You look so perfect..." He gasps as he takes his fingers off my pussy. I still try to catch up on breathing. "Can you look at me for a second, baby?" He asks, his voice becoming as soft as velvet. I open my eyes with difficulty, just enough to be able to see him put his fingers inside his mouth. "You taste so good." He comments, stroking my hair. "My eyes burn like hell." I mumble, getting a little too tired. I feel him pick me up, carry me somewhere. "I will give you a wet towel to clean up, ok? And I will run a hot bath for us." He whispers, letting me on my feet. He handles me the cloth, which I immediately use to clean my face, blinking a couple of times as I do. I hear him turn the faucet of the hot tub on, while I feel my eyes tear up a little. "Want my help, princess?" He asks and I nod. "I have some natural tears in the cabinet. Can you help me with them?" I ask, rubbing my eyes with the towel softly. "Sure. But maybe wash off your makeup first..." He suggests and I nod.

In less than 10 minutes I am in the hot tub, sitting between Ashton's legs while a vanilla fizzer is evaporating in the hot water. I am snuggled up against Ashton, my eyes still hurting a bit but feeling much better. Ashton has his arms around my body, kissing my neck while he hums some tune for us. It is peaceful, we are in peace right now, and all I want is to spend my night in the warm water, being held by him. "Feeling good, baby?" He asks, rubbing his thumb over my thigh. I hum in approval, nestling up against him, resting my head on his pec. "I am good. Just a bit spent." I whisper, feeling my eyelids becoming heavy. "I am sorry." "You shouldn't be. I wanted it. I like it when you get a bit rough on me. It's the only time I get to experience angry Ashton in all his glory." I giggle, reaching to take his hand in mine. "Yeah, the only time you ever will, I promise." He replies, pressing a kiss on my forehead.

I did not realize how I fell asleep, or when. All I know is that I woke up in my bed, engulfed in the fluffy, warm duvet. I stretch my body and get the bedsheet off from under the duvet before I wrap it around my body and get up. I barely stumble into the kitchen, eyes still heavy from sleep, and my body shivering a bit as it tries to adjust from the warmth of the bed to the not-so-warm house. I find Ashton in front of the stove, cooking pancakes while in just his boxers. I smile and walk behind him, wrapping my arms around his body and resting my head on his back. "Good morning." I cheer with a smile on my face. "Good morning, baby. Breakfast will be ready in 5. How did you sleep?" He asks me without turning to look at me. "Good. If I am being honest, I didn't even realize I fell asleep." I chuckle, leaving a kiss on his skin. "You fell asleep in the tub. You looked too peaceful to wake you up, so I carried you out and put you to bed." He replies, turning around just to smile at me and leave a soft peck on my lips. "And you didn't bother dressing me up? Rude..." I mess with him, making him roll his eyes before turning to the stove. "I like finding you naked in the morning. The light hits your body just right." He shrugs, flipping the pancakes. "You are just making excuses and trying to get into my pants." I giggle, resting against the countertop. "You are not wearing any..." He mumbles, tilting his head to the side. "You are being so disrespectful to your girl right now." I fake being insulted. "Well, I make a really good breakfast and eat pussy way too perfect for my girl to get mad at me. So..." He turns off the stove and leans down to kiss me softly, making me smile. "That's true." I sigh and he chuckles. "Come on, let's eat. I am ravenous." He picks up the plate with pancakes and takes my hand to guide us to the dining table. "I'll bring coffee, plates, and syrup in a moment. You sit here." He drags the chair out for me, kissing my forehead before he leaves for the kitchen.

We eat in a bit of silence, comfortable silence, groaning over how good the pancakes taste. I take a sip of my coffee, without taking my eyes off of him. I study his features for a moment like it is the first time I am looking at him. "Do I have something on me?" He asks me, knitting his eyebrows together. "No." I reply, smiling. "Then why are you looking at me?" He asks. "Can I not be looking at the most handsome man alive?" I ask, bringing a smile on his face, along with a little bit of redness on his cheeks. "Ash, can I ask you something?" I ask him, taking his hand in mine. "Sure, baby. Anything you want." He replies. "Do you want to move in with me? In here?" I ask, biting my lip as I wait for his response.

My Masterlist / Part 2

252 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 5 years

Text

Behind the Door

↳ modern au

Author’s Notes | for @lisinfleur

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, abusive!oc x reader

❛ word count | 4750

❛ genre | oneshot with some angst

❛ summary | the girl in the hall, he wants to know her. the only one in his way? her abusive boyfriend.

❛ warnings | emotional abuse, physical abuse, abusive relationships, some violence

Money talked.

Hvitserk knew that it did and he had gotten lucky with his father’s reputation. His job was to play and travel; kicking his soccer ball across a dewy field every day. It was something natural and freeing to him, almost like if he was flying like mother’s falcon across the field. A pop and twist of his foot and he could whizz a ball with the soaring wind into a white knit net.

A life of salads, long practice days and a flight from Copenhagen out half way across the world led up to this moment carrying up suitcases to his new apartment. Luckily, the furniture was all moved in a few days before but-- fuck, he was preparing to be here for the long haul. That meant lots and lots of clothes being brought up this metal box of an elevator.

Ding! Fourteenth floor. The doors whizz open.

“--Really? You don’t think that’s too short?”

“I-- I thought it would look nice. I made it myself.”

Couple scuffles-- it wouldn’t be the first time he walked in on one. Usually, no one had the balls to do them in the open. Especially not in a well to do area like this. Hvitserk turns his huge suitcase in a circle and throws the dark duffel bag over his shoulder. As he passes the plasticy tags with black numbers of each door, he realizes that he’s getting painfully close to the couple-- and painfully close to his own apartment.

The man leans over into his girl’s face, tugging the hem of her mid-thigh length dress made of some comfortable sweater fabric. Hvitserk wore sweaters just like the one she had made into a dress-- complete with buttons down to her belly button. The richness of her choice in green made his mouth salivate with a burst of energy.

His synaesthesia was acting up today.

“Hey man, would you let your girl go out looking like this?” The man says harmlessly enough and true, Hvitserk thinks-- he might have been jealous too. Not because something was too short but because the girl looks too good. Dressed to the nines, manicured fingers flirtatiously in her hair and a pair of heels with a strap across cute toes painted black. Edgy. A hint of kinky past her preppy appearance. She must have been a hell of a fuck.

She stares straight ahead, over his shoulder and the nape length blonde hair that tickled the sides of her face. The man stands upright, several inches taller than her. Every once in a while, she would glance to Hvitserk’s jawline, running over the curling hairs of his jaw and then back to her blond haired, sea-eyed boyfriend. Or husband, god forbid. This guy was a complete ass.

“Uh.” He runs his tongue over his tooth. With a vapid smile, he shrugs his shoulders. “I can’t help you, man. Women like what they like.”

It’s the safest bet. The wheels of his suitcases clack as he stops in front of his plain door, draping the duffel bag on his suitcase. If he wasn’t being stupid, he could have sworn she flashed him an adorably belligerent smile, a bit of tooth peeking out from her lips. He shuffles in the pocket of his joggers, knocking away his leather wallet until he found the ring of his new keys.

“Yeah, yeah guess that’s the truth.” The man says looking to Hvitserk who opens the door, balancing with his foot. “You need help, dude?”

“Weren’t you going out?” Hvitserk asks. The woman shifts, a light shake in her head. She opens the door to their apartment and slides out of sight into the ill-lighted apartment.

“Na, I don’t think so.” The man jogs forward and takes ahold of his suitcase. He wheels it in. “I’m Jesper Sørensen.”

“Uh, Hvitserk.” He mutters.

“Number 10! Hvitserk Ragnarsson?”

Shit.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere, man.” He comes into his crisp apartment. It’s white-- dusty on his tongue as he walks in. He appreciates the calmness of the grey walls and matching dark hardwood floors. Had it been more than that, he might actually get triggered.

“You’re fucking lucky to do work like that. I do pharmaceuticals. Let you in on a secret brother, it’s some boring shit!”

I’m not your brother, Hvitserk thinks. He lets it go, stretching his back out and looking out toward the bright beach outside his window. He catalogues the bend of the beach in his eye knowing that he would most likely spend a lot of time here in the future. Then as to not ignore his new visitor, he turns back toward the column of stacked boxes.

“What can I say? I’m a lucky man.” Hvitserk beams a tall tale fake smile, pulling open a box. One of many, many boxes. Jesper takes a step toward the door— then stops.

“Hey uh, you need some help around here?”

Hvitserk looks toward him, dusting off a picture of his mother modeling.

“I mean you’ll be here forever man unless you got yourself a lady to do this.” Jesper scratches his head. Hvitserk finds it almost cute-- any of the women that he had in the past would only do it for sake of doing it so that they could rub it in his face that, ha! She got it done!

Hvitserk laughs. “Nah, my picker is broke. I get chicks that want me for my money.”

“Beats wanting attention all the time, right?” Jesper picks up a box and settles it on the ragged leather of his couch. “Shit, (Y/N) will be pissed at me all day.”

“She always like that?” Hvitserk makes small talk. He pulls a picture of Björn and he backpacking through Spain— his brother’s idea.

“Yeah. She needs attention all the time man. That’s why she wants to be a model even though her legs are short as shit.” Hvitserk remains quiet for some time debating whether to continue on that or not.

“She’s pretty.”

Jesper looks up, a small shake in his head even with his newfound friend’s words. Pretty, he can see the man think. It’s almost as if he feels threatened by those words. Hvitserk knew how men thought-- he had to. Ivar had a temper worse than this sack of shit.

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s pretty.”

Most days Hvitserk thought nothing of it.

He sat on his metal balcony looking out toward the beachside front. Fluffy clouds blocked most of the hot sun. There was a light breeze carrying on the wind. The people here are strange flying their thin kites on tangled strings or chasing each other on the sandy beach. Sometimes some dumbasses would explode fireworks by accident and other times, he might see something as outrageous as a scarved pug on a beach blue skateboard.

His favourite sight, when he was home, was her.

Jesper’s girl who would go out in a strappy bikini, a sheer midnight blue wrap on her round hips and an adorable straw hat complete with a matching bow. For hours she would walk the moist shoreline of the beach, bend down and go on her way.

Seashells, he theorized.

Then she would come up the stairs before Jesper would get home, slapping black flip flops with wet cracks up the stairs. Sometimes he made it a point to go to the front door where she was, just like today.

“I see you have some sea-- seashells there sweetheart.” The older ladies there made it a point to talk to her. She stood with one, holding the back of her hat while drops of water trembled down sunbaked skin. Her hair would crust with the salty hair time after time.

“Oh, yes.” She says sweetly. “I am making a new dress.”

“A dress of shells?” The old lady croons curiously.

“My niece loves shells.” Her lips purse together, fresh with a perfect cherry chapstick. Hvitserk peeks his head out enough that the older women knew he was there listening. “I was thinking of making her a dress. I don’t see her often.”

“I’m so sorry dear.”

At the end of the conversation, Hvitserk made it a point to gather his ring of jingling keys and jam his phone, a little too fat, in his pocket. He could pick up dinner-- and have an excuse to talk to her more than with Jesper’s presence over her. For a girl walking the beach, he had to wonder what more there was to her when Jesper wasn’t looking.

“H-- Hey (Y/N).” He steps out just as she jangles with a ring of keys. She glances over her freckled shoulder, fluttering long lashes at him. His favourite part are the sun freckles that are baked onto her skin.

“Mr. Ragnarsson.” She says, turning around after popping the door open. Her foot keeps the door ajar while she stands there, now fiddling with a piece of hair. A small flirt-- women always fiddle with their hair when flirting.

“It’s Hvitserk.” He locks the door behind him, hands now in his pockets.

“Hvitserk. I should be going now. I’m not really… free today.”

It always lasts far too little. She slips into her door to go on about sewing her beautiful things. He gathers that by the fabric she totes up the stairs on occasion. Then, just as always, he goes on about his way down the stairs. It was lunch… and Hvitserk? Hvitserk had another salad on his mind.

If only he waited a while longer, he might have heard her sewing machine hit the floor.

Something was different.

He couldn’t place it but… she no longer spent time on the beach. Every night he had available he would look out expecting to see her in her cute bikini, plucking sand crusted shells and rushing home with flopping flipflops before the sun broke past the horizon.

Number 10, Hvitserk Ragnarsson does it again! Another stunning shot!

He flicks the buzzing television off. It was nothing but them pumping him up all the time. It would have been nice-- but he in no way wanted to be ostracized by the rest of his teammates. Perhaps that’s why him being sick, hacking and coughing up some mucky yellowish crap up his throat was for the best.

This way someone else could have the spotlight.

Ding-Dong!

Hm? Hvitserk’s feet shift between the leather and the soft white throw covering his feet. The hardwood floors are cool to the touch, so he hops the whole way into the door. One look on the peep hole revealed her. She stood barefoot against the dull blue carpet in the hall, looking down. He draws the heavy door apart.

“(Y/N)?” He asks, eyes looking down to a lime coloured bowl covered in sticky plastic wrap. Her long hair tumbles around half of her face-- obscuring one eye. She shifts in her jaunty yellow sundress.

“You didn’t go to practice.” She states. “I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

He didn’t know she noticed-- he practiced most days, went to games when he needed to and flew out the country on a regular schedule. It was almost as good as having Ubbe to notice when he was home and when he wasn’t.

“Yeah, stomach flu or something.” He comments, stepping aside. “You wanna come in?”

“Oh no I-- I shouldn’t.” She says so abruptly that he thinks that she might have a conniption. He looks around the vanilla walls of the hall.

“I don’t think he’s out there.” Hvitserk says almost knowingly. He didn’t know the intimate details of their relationship. Yet when it was game day, not for soccer, he had noticed how harshly Jesper spoke of her.

The amount of time she spent sewing-- when in his words, she should have been cleaning and cooking. She should have been on her knees waiting to suck him off. If he were honest, not even he would spend his time degrading himself on the ground for a sack of shit like him.

Hvitserk brings the bowl to the milky countertop of his kitchen just around the corner. She shyly ambles around, stopping short of the breakfast bar. He unwraps the bowl, looking at her warm chicken soup with doughy noodles.

“Is that another of (Y/N)’s creations?” He looks back to her.

“Oh I worked in a Chinese restaurant once--”

“No.” Hvitserk laughs, motioning his finger in a twirl. “The dress.”

She glances down and slaps her hands against the beautiful a-line skirt. Her hands slip down from covering the v-neckline to gently pull out the flowy skirt. Then playfully she twirls around in a quick spin, her skirt becoming nice and full. When she stops, she doesn’t realize that her hair sways away from her normally perfectly made up face. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was a blotch on her cheekbone.

“It is!” She says all at once with a cute little laugh. “Jesper said it was too short.”

“Shorter the better for me.” Hvitserk reaches for a black ladle inside the milky drawer. “It looks like something mor would like.”

“Aslaug?” She leans over the countertop with one hand propping up her cheek. He has to force himself to look away from the fingerprint bruises and cigarette burns littering her arms.

“No other!” Hvitserk spoons a bowl for her and then one for him. “Your designs-- they’re exactly the sort of thing she’d like. Uh, this way.” He sets the ladle into the stainless steel stink and motions her out toward his favourite place in the entire apartment-- the balcony.

She daintily sits upon the ottoman that usually he sets his sneakers upon. Almost like a doll-- because she sits there effortlessly. He notices the fine detail of her skirt, glimmering with crushed shells. Or what he thinks might be the crushed shells. She takes a sip of the salty soup she’s made, looking out toward the lapsing waves on the grainy shore.

“Maybe you could give me your portfolio.” Hvitserk says. “I know you have one with all the pieces you make. She might be interested.”

“You think so?!”

“Yeah, of course.” He says, sniffling. “Plus when you model them, it makes it that much better.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.”

“You’re gorgeous.” Hvitserk blurts out, then realizes his words promptly. He runs his tongue up over the honey coloured hairs of his moustache, trying to decide why exactly he said what he said. She doesn’t seem exactly off put, gazing out at the sun setting behind the line of the horizon.

“I haven’t heard that in a long time.”

“If you had someone who was worth a shit, maybe they would tell you. I know I would.” He glances up from his doughy noodles off to her, she brightens into a smile-- a lying smile when she promptly loses it to the tune of her phone vibrating intensely. He wonders if that dress has pockets when she swipes it out from her bra, eradicating that thought the second he had it.

“Jesper?” He asks.

“Yeah I-- he’s probably hungry. He doesn’t like it when I leave his food out.” She murmurs, silencing the phone with a click of the button on the side.

Hvitserk clears his throat. “Yeah, listen (Y/N), the mark across your cheek--”

“I fell in the bathroom.”

This must have happened a million times with her because she had an answer before he could even formulate a complete answer for him. He recalls what his mother said over the phone about women in abuse. Fighting them, it would just make it that much easier to stay. If she left him, it would be endlessly better than seeing her body littered in bruises.

“Right.” He says. “Just uh… make sure to watch out for yourself. Sharp corners, right?”

Although she doesn’t say anything as she gets up, she gleams a sweet, apologetic look in her eye. She straightens out her beautiful dress and takes the bowl to the kitchen. Somewhere behind him, he hears:

“Thank you, Hvitserk.”

Then, like usual-- she’s out the door.

In Hvitserk’s life, he was never exactly sure of anything. He wasn’t sure if Ivar really loved him. He wasn’t sure if moving across the world was the right choice-- but he was sure of one thing. Those weren’t lovemaking screams.

“Where were you!” It’s muffled. “You were with that fuckin’ Ragnarsson again!”

He wasn’t dumb. He knew when a duck was a duck and that frantic screaming-- her intermittent “please” was definitely not something anyone should be ignoring. The apartment complex is eerily silent other than the crashing of objects within her apartment.

“Let go!”

Brinnng. Brinnng.

“Hvit?” It’s like six in the morning there-- he knows. His brother’s voice is weighed down heavy on the other line. Heavier than his usual husk and groan that he always teased Ubbe about growing up. “It’s--”

“Six, I know.” He whispers. His voice almost sotto voce it has gone so low. “Listen I--”

“FUCKING WHORE!”

“Hvit?”

“Yeah, no I’m here, sorry.” Hvitserk considers his brother once again, tearing his eyes from the heavy door that separates him from the hallway. “My neighbors are fighting.”

“Are you scared?” Ubbe says from across the line. He feels almost six again, holding onto the tails of Ubbe’s shirt while they sought out cold waters to escape the endless pain mother put them through… together.

“No, I uh-- It might be my fault.”

“Your fault?” Ubbe shuffles on the other line. He can tell that his brother is sitting upright now. “What do you mean?”

“I should’ve put a goddamn bullet in your head the first time, fat fucking skank ass bitch!”

Hvitserk’s hand is at his mouth now that he stands in the hall closest to the door. The closer he got, the more audible her screams became. The door almost seems to vibrate underneath them. Or perhaps, in a way, that’s his chest that is buzzing with every moment of uncertainty sinking under his skin like the pricks of pins.

“I invited her in.”

For any ordinary man, harmless. Truly harmless. For a man that was considered more successful than Jesper, treason. He should have never said that he did not see Jesper down the hall. The man had ears in the walls and eyes constantly following her every little move.

Then, there’s silence. Nothing but the smoothness of a cello quartet that she typically would play when she was creating late at night with her hair up in a gorgeous midnight blue ribbon. He only knew as much because on occasions that she took her art book upon the beach, she drew. She would draw her hair up in a ribbon. Salty drawings of sexy, cute and even hopeful pieces would be in her hands when she came up the stairs.

It was supposed to be a soothing place for her. He ruined that too, as he quickly comes to the conclusion that Jesper caught onto Hvitserk’s haplessly excited expression every time she came up the stairs. Hvitserk shifts the waistband of his joggers, mind foggy and heavy with the headache that had been beating his head all day.

“Hvit you know better than that.” Ubbe says. “I told you not to let her in.”

He couldn’t help it. There was no way that he could have known the mood that Jesper would be and staring accusingly to the door, he paces to it. Then, popping the door open, he steps out into the soft, dimly lit hall.

“I know.” Hvitserk says wearily to even his own ears. His heart rate quickens, he can feel it beating against his skin, leaping like his mother’s stupid teacup pomeranian nipping at his ankles when he came home from high school with his brothers. “I’m sorry.”

His knuckles rasp at the last door, reaching to whoever is behind it. The susurration behind the door fills Hvitserk with premature anxiety, bubbling under his skin. Hvitserk slips his phone in his pocket and replaces a bud in his ear.

“Hvitr?” Ubbe shifts. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t say anything.” He says. “Just stay with me.”

The door opens.

“Hvitserk! Hvitserk!”

It smelled like bleach. The kind that his mother threw upon the carport floor after Ivar took a baseball bat to that kid’s head. So bad that he remembers his skin prickling with the sear of chemicals, his whole respiratory system bursting into hacks that he couldn’t control. He thought that he might not recover, wheezing for his mother.

It’s just a little burn, she said. You’ll recover. Do it for him.

The little boy and his parents were gone now. If he waited much longer, something told him that she would be too. The door opens-- but only slightly. Enough that Hvitserk catches Jesper’s cloudy blue eyes in the crack of the door. His lips pull into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hvitserrrrkkk.” He slurs in one long, jittery breath.

Hvitserk’s hand curls in the space between the door and the metal frame, yanking the door of his fingers to crack it back against Jesper’s forehead. This was crazy-- having Ubbe on the line, barking at him.

Got damn it Hvitserk!

He dips into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. With a scraping, rough voice he darts from Jesper’s lurch toward him, drawing out the gun from his waistband. Jesper jerks back, holding up his hands.

“Don’t fuck with me.” Hvitserk says, his chest tightening. He’s not breathing-- or so, he thinks he isn’t breathing. Jesper’s motions slow to a stop, dropping the heavy blade from his fat fingertips. It falls with a clatter on the hardwood floors.

“Where is she?” He says.

“It wasn’t my fault.” Jesper says again. This time, his words made his skin prickle. It only serves to aggravate him-- pushing his anger to bubble over the surface so quickly that he can feel himself gnashing his teeth already.

“You wouldn’t shoot me.” Jesper asks, his eye narrowing upon him. It’s the last he can take, turning his hand up from the outstretched position. The whole time he had been calling a bluff, and there it was, Jesper would have thought. Moments later, Hvitserk brought the butt of his gun down upon Jesper’s cheek, knocking him off balance and onto the ground.

“Where the fuck is she?!” He demands. He loses the control over his voice, raising in his tone when Ubbe reminds him. Check yourself, Hvitserk. He never wanted this life-- but he’s as much a Ragnarsson as any of his brothers sporting a blinding intense rage and in case of fight versus flight, well, they would always fight.

“The bathroom!”

Hvitserk makes a grunt of approval somewhere deep in the back of his throat, and then, his pistol comes upon him again. It’s a blur of slams, knocking him across the face with force until he drops to his satisfaction. In all his promises of what he wouldn’t be, he never thought that this would be him.

Rushing to clear the apartment on the way to the bathroom. Like Bjorn as a police officer showed him how to clear out his own home. In case anyone was ever snooping. Which… this was obviously not his case today.

Ssshhh…

It sounds like the ocean. The water coming in with great, swelling force. But instead of crashing and pulling back into the endless depths, Hvitserk’s bare feet squish. It’s… water. He cuts the corner into the master bathroom. Blood streaks with thin water over the bathroom floor, filling his tongue with the taste of iron before anything else. The red, red blood throws his heart into a pulsing overdrive. He follows the blood to her slashed calve. Her body draped over the edge of the tub. Not moving-- not… not…. Nothing.

“Hvitserk talk to me.” Ubbe calls out to him.

“Help me, Ubbe.”

Ten more minutes.

That was all Ubbe and she had left before he would be back. A litany of the counting down of seconds falls from her lips as she stands there, waiting warily for him to arrive. No guests were allowed at the plane gates and so they waited just outside the baggage claim for him.

Flight number 135, arrival from Los Angeles.

“He’s almost here.” Ubbe whispers from behind her. She stands there on a full stomach, knowing just that Hvitserk is going to want to eat anyway! Excitedly she refreshes her phone not just once-- but a hundred times.

Hvitserk I’m finally here! My numb ass isn’t yet, tho.

She looks over the calendar again, a barrel of excitement. It had been months since she last saw him. When she finally sees him darting down the stairs, ignoring the escalator-- she rushes to grasp her crutches at either side of her arms, standing up with a great amount of force.

“There’s my baby!” Hvitserk yells through the great open space of the baggage claim. Everyone had to have heard that. She hobbles forward, a beautiful deep blue dress hugging down to her knees. Hvitserk sweeps her off the ground, twirling her around while enjoying her brilliant laughter.

“Hvitserk!”

When he puts her down again, she sways, narrowly falling if not for her sweet Hvitserk dipping down to pick up her crutch. He supports her while she takes into her hand, limping in time with him.

“How was the flight?” She asks sweetly.

“It was good.” He responds in turn, looking down to her before over to Ubbe. The three slowly amble over to the metal baggage claim. The bags don’t come down the metal slide just yet. Hvitserk glances to the shifting plates and then finally chooses to say something.

“I heard that Mor approved your clothing line.” He says, slurring a little with loss of sleep on the plane. He couldn’t sleep an inch since he got on there. “The press seems to like your pieces in the line for uh, “adaptive” needs. Did you have to tell them about what happened?”

“Of course I had to.” She says. “My leg wasn’t like this when I met you, right? Modeling pretty bikinis and sundresses all day...”

Hvitserk shifts uncomfortably-- looking over to Ubbe who stands with his hands folded one over another. Her relationship wasn’t the only thing that ended that day. The dream of being some big supermodel like the Aslaug, queen of the supermodels, also died. Whether anyone said it or not-- no one wanted a model with a limp.

“(Y/N).” Ubbe prompts, thick and slurry. It's laughable to her now but for a congested airport where passengers are tightly clustered around their baggage claim, she knows that more than one has turned to look at her. The metal plates shift around the machine. Ubbe moves forward to go find Hvitserk’s bags.

“It wasn’t your fault okay?” She says. “Who knew a silly achilles tendon could make such a fuss.” She almost makes a joke of it. Maybe its to bite back the pain she was in on a constant basis. Just like his brother Ivar told him once.

“So you’re doing this for you, then?”

“I’m doing it because all women deserve to be sexy. All of them. My clothes will bring them that.” She leans against his arm. “Ivar understands.”

Ivar was also, oh, Hvitserk didn’t know-- born like that. Hvitserk worries what might happen from this new narrative of abuse. Not for his sake but for hers. His mother promised this would be done carefully to keep her safe.

“Yeah, you know, I do too.” Hvitserk swallows. “It’s good. It’s just--”

“You’re worried about me.” She shifts around, looking outside of large arching windows that bring in bright light. A radiant light that fills the airport with hope, and for her, as Hvitserk discovers… a new chance at life. Outside, Ivar reclines against the car with his hand upon his own crutch. It was only a loading zone but hey, being a cripple did have its benefits!

“Yeah.” Hvitserk swallows.

“You don’t have to be.”

Then as he opens his mouth again, she leans up to his lips. She places a closed lipped kiss upon his lips. Then as she turns, shouting at Ubbe to hurry up, Hvitserk smiles. This... this girl, the loud one with beautiful dresses and vibrant makeup, this was the real her.

“Because Hvitserk-- I’m finally free.”

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#Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitserk/Reader #Vikings x Reader #Vikings/Reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson imagine #Hvitty imagines

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