#but hey them being on the upcoming OneD press conference with the rest of the OF boys? what does that mean???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

Pinterest Board

A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

An extra for our babies can be found here!

3K notes · View notes

spidxysense · 3 years

Text

Back to You | 14

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: Yay I updated! I hope you guys like this one, I was stuck for a bit there but once I sat down and got to typing, I really finished it in one sitting. I was just planning on updating it bit by bit lol. Let me know what you guys think, Love you!!!!!!

Word count: 2,591

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

In a few short months of your movie premier with Timothee, you were finally able to release your double-release album, and the response was massive, to say the least. You'd been getting calls from different show hosts' upcoming awarding ceremonies. Still, you couldn't for life in you accept, all except for the Oscars, which your manager told you was a must since you'd be attending in the first place anyway and that performing at the Oscars was a big deal given that you also starred in films and shows.

You turned in bed, facing Timothee's sleeping face. He had been in town for a week now, back on a break from filming in Hungary. Then he'd be back to film in England in a couple of weeks. After your talk on your premiere night, it was to an agreement that whatever you had going on was just two people exploring and experiencing things with someone they had strong feelings for. There wasn't a need for a media circus to cover anything about you two except your movie.

You move his arm, placed it over your waist, and sit up slowly in bed, making sure not to stir Timothee. The jetlag must be shit. You stretched your arms in front of you, glancing at the clock that read 2:07 AM. You get up, grabbing Timothee's white shirt from the floor, and, putting it on, walking over to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, touching some of the reddening parts of your neck courtesy of Timothee, and then you notice the toothbrushes… there were two. From this single thing alone, it had you catching everything about the bathroom, how there were two towels, one black, and one violet, which just so happened to be your favorite color.

You walked over to the nightstand beside the bed, putting on your skinny jeans, turning on the lamp, and noticing his wallet. Inside was a picture of you. Opening the closet doors, the ones hung up were various suits, jackets, and even dresses you've worn to events. Why didn't he just send these back? Why would he let you keep your stuff in his house?

You drag your feet downstairs, noticing small details you'd been blind to before, like the large dog bed positioned by the door despite Timothee telling you he could only ever get himself to take care of a tiny dog. You noticed the colored mugs and bowls, a deep dull navy blue color, the same as the ones in your house. Suddenly, everything feels as if it's moving too fast. You both agreed there was no relationship, and there was attraction, but why does his home feel like it's become yours as well?

You sit down, taking a few deep breaths before deciding to stand up and grab your cardigan from the coathanger, opening the front door and closing it behind you as you waited for a taxi to bring you to the more active part of the city at night.

You just couldn't deal with a relationship right now. You couldn't let your heart get broken again, so you have to find ways to distract yourself.

The car stops in front of you, driving off into the night and dropping you off by a club that Troye agreed to meet you at.

You and Timothee had an attraction, but you both agreed there was no label; ergo, there was no intimate relationship even though you both have done everything together. No boyfriend means you were free to do whatever you wanted without worrying about him. But if you were honest with yourself, this was more of you suggesting something you already knew Timothee wasn't too keen on agreeing with but would just because he thought that having something with you was better than absolutely nothing. You saw Troye waiting out by the back entrance for you when he spotted you and called you over. Almost like clockwork, every time you snuck out away from Timothee, everything in you screamed to turn back, to clear your head, and for the first time, you listened.

You motioned for Troye to go ahead and sent him a text that you'd probably just head home because you weren't feeling well. He gave you a knowing look before looking like he finally approved of your actions and sent you a quick and short 'Good." text, and headed inside.

You walked around for a while after that. Soon it was already just about 5 in the morning, and even though you wouldn't let yourself come to any conclusion as to what you even wanted out of this almost relationship with Timothee, you still found yourself back at his front door.

You took out the keys in your pocket, slowly opening the door only to find Timothee sat on the couch, his knees up to his chest as he stared off into space, either deep in thought or trying to keep himself awake… maybe even both.

When he saw you enter, a soft smile formed on his face, and for some reason, that made you smile too.

"Hey, you." He spoke softly.

You sat down quietly next to him, instantly he set his feet on the ground and reached over to embrace you in a hug, the familiar scent of Timothee that never left you that evening even more evident… It felt and smelled familiar, and right now, while your mind was a mess, familiarity was what you needed.

Timothee lifted his head, worried, "Hey, are you alright?"

You sighed, "I don't want to hurt you."

He murmured quietly into your neck as he peppered kisses, "You could never."

You pulled away, feeling guilt in your bones, "Aren't you even a little bit frustrated that we've been like this for months? That even in private, we can't even say that we're in a relationship?"

You gave you a reassuring look, "We both wanted this Y/N."

You sat up, "Except we didn't… You didn't." You corrected yourself, "You're bringing your mother to the fucking Oscars next month because I told you we couldn't be seen together at carpets for Pete's sake."

You stood up, starting to pace back and forth, "We have to coordinate outfits for the sake of not matching, and we never go out because I can't be seen with you in fear that we're going to get found out. I'm a terrible fucking person, and I don't understand how you're so okay with this."

Timothee was grinning, sleep still in his eyes, "I'm okay with it because I love you, Y/N."

You froze in your spot, "You what?"

He nodded and got up, walking over to you. The blue light of the early morning peaking through the curtain made this moment feel and look ethereal, "I said I love you, Y/N. I've known that I loved you from the moment I met you." He kissed the top of your head as he embraced you.

You shook your head, "No, no, no, you don't. I'll even list more shit I've done to you just so you understand how and why you don't love me."

Timothee chuckled, "And yet despite all this... all that's registering in my head is the fact that you've been thinking of me and only me this whole time. You've been worried about how you're hurting me because you don't want to."

And that's when you realized that Timothee was right. This whole time you've been thinking of Timothee and how much you wanted to protect him from you, but he never wanted to be protected from you because he knew that you could never hurt him. You rested your forehead against his.

"I-I need to go. I need to think."

He smiled sadly, "I'll be here when you're ready. I'll always be here Y/N until you don't want me to be here anymore."

-----------------------------------------------------------

You sat in your house, since leaving Timothee's earlier, you had been sat there lost in thought as you argued with yourself. It was true, the last thing you wanted was to hurt Timothee, but you were confused because it's like you couldn't understand your feelings. After all, a particular person still held a large part of it in his hands.

Timothee was there for you. Late night at the recording studio, whether through being there physically or even calling you or skyping you, he was always there. He was there with you when you bought all your albums from Target, and he was also the one who insisted you find another target that hasn't sold out your CDs so he could buy all of them too. Timothee was there with you when you had interviews that you almost felt like you could puke from nervousness backstage as he watched you talk about another celebrity you were getting linked to, and he was there with you to giggle about how stupid talk shows were. Timothee was always there. Whether it was dancing, kissing, or even fighting in the rain, he was always with you. He always wanted you around. Even when you rode the subway to get to a press conference of his or a promo for his upcoming movie, he always wanted you with him. He'd run with you in the rain, and he'd kiss away the sadness when you didn't want to speak with him. He was there with you when you get the sudden urge to buy all the popsicles from the nearest whole foods, and he was there with you when you got sick with the flu, which he also got from you. You'd spend afternoons walking around a far-off hill as you two put flowers in your hair despite knowing that you two probably had your busy schedules. Nothing mattered when you were with Timothee. Nothing mattered except each other. A part of you felt hurt that these memories you had kept of you and Tom were slowly being replaced by everything Timothee, but a large part of you also knew that the person you have now had no doubt that you couldn't ignore your feelings. You couldn't have to take Timothee out of your life.

Making up your mind, you got up, got dressed, and left for where you were sure you would find Tom.

He was in the middle of filming a new movie, but the second he saw you, he immediately asked to stop filming, a familiar, loving face plastered on as he walked over to you before being stopped by the director. They looked to be having a bit of a disagreement before he pointed you out, and the director looked at you in realization, patting him on the back and allowing him to jog over to you.

"Hey." You paused, your hand grasping your arm, and Tom took notice right away.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Hey, what's wrong?" He pulls you to sit by the curb as you two sat side by side, "You only do that when you're having a hard time saying something."

You gave him a look, "Well… I came here to ask you if it was alright if I try things out with Timothee."

He looked taken aback, "Oh, well, honestly, I thought you came by to sort things out between us…." He took notice of the way you looked down in guilt, "I don't think you could do anything with another guy that wouldn't upset me… but I don't really get that prerogative anymore, Y/N." He sighed, wrapping an arm around you to comfort you, "The fact is, you're trying to grow into who you've always wanted to be, and I'm trying to do that too for the sake of us and what we could be. If that means that you need or want to date someone again, I'll fully support you, but the most important thing is, does he make you happy?"

You sighed, looking out onto the filming lot, and nodded slowly, not noticing the slight upset look on Tom's face, "I catch myself sometimes smiling to myself when I think of him… But it's like I can't do anything because I don't want to let go of what we had."

Tom took a gulp, deciding that what was important right now was you, more than what he wanted, "What we had and what we were isn't important anymore Y/N. I'm working towards what we could become. What we had was co-dependency and a constant need to be in each other's presence to prove that what we had was perfect. I want us to find each other again in the future and know that no matter how far apart we are, if hopefully, we get together again, there is nobody in this world we'll love more… and that's what I'm encouraging you to do. I want to grow with you and grow for each other, and if that means you dating other people to understand yourself more, then I support you."

You looked at Tom for a second before hugging him and pecking him on the cheek, "I really needed that, Tom. Thank you."

He hugged you tighter, "Anytime. I'll always be here for you, Y/N."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You gripped your seat in the car in pure nerves. You were on your way to the Oscars with your assistant constantly telling you about your performance and what not to mess up and things to remember, especially about reporters who wanted an interview with you. To say you were all nerves today was an understatement. You hadn't spoken to Timothee ever since you told him you needed time to think, so today would be the first time you would ever come face to face with him. You thought long and hard about everything between the two of you. Still, you think you're finally ready to actually put some time and effort into this… and if that meant doing things that would significantly make Timothee happy, then you'd do it.

Your assistant watched a live feed from the Oscars as she gave you updates on how Armie was on the carpet. Saoirse was on the carpet, talking about how she hoped to make a movie with you and various other stars. You were a few minutes away from the carpet when she spoke up again.

"Timothee has just arrived." then she looked at her phone and back at you, doing a double-take as you gave her a sheepish smile, all she could do was smile approvingly at you before going back to giving you live updates.

A few minutes later, and your heart didn't feel like it was going to slow down anytime soon as your assistant gave you a pep talk, "Y/N. You are gonna rock that carpet, you'll turn heads, and most importantly, you're gonna be the talk of the night. There is nothing that could go wrong tonight. Just take deep breaths and don't trip."

Luckily you were still coherent enough to understand what she said as you took deep breaths to calm your nerves.

"Alright, three… two… one." The door flew open as one of the large men in suits grabbed your hand and helped you out. Your dress was not providing you much flexibility to move, and for almost 15 seconds, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion as everyone was quiet. You found Timothee busy with an interview as the crowd looked from you to him, the topic on everyone's minds for the past few months. As if this were the only proof they needed, they held their cameras in their hands as they snapped pictures of you and a commotion started as they started asking for Timothee.

You think you gave them a quick, charming grin as you told them he was in an interview before walking towards the interviewer and Timothee. She was the first to notice while Timothee talked about how his mom stood him up as his Oscars date, something you arranged a week earlier and something Timothee's mom was more than happy to comply to.

The interviewer looks ecstatic as the only one and the first one on this carpet to get whatever the scoop was here, as she wasted no time when you slowly approached them, "Timothee! You said you were stood up, but you never told us that your backup would be late!"

Timothee shot her a confused look before he felt your arm slowly snake around his arm, "Sorry I'm late." You quickly whispered to him.

His face looked shocked. Almost as if a reflex, he almost pulled away from you before getting a good look at what you were wearing. His jaw looked like it would drop to the floor as he looked utterly awestruck.

The interviewer giggled nervously, already knowing her interview time was slowly coming to an end without any payoff to the two of you, "Timothee, you look to be speechless at Y/N's dress tonight." She looked at you hopefully, "Could everyone here assume this is date night?"

You smiled shyly at the lady before giving her a tiny curt nod, "I know it's a bit cliche to match outfits, but when I saw that Timothee was going to wear a harness, I just couldn't let him take all the attention for tonight, so I apologize, but I've kept this secret from him too just to make sure he doesn't do anything to take the spotlight, that's why he looks like he's just had a heart attack." you giggled.

He gave a quick, playful tilted look to you before blinking multiple times, "In my defense, I didn't even know that this was a harness... They told me this was a bib."

"Bib or not, you two look like the sexiest couple on the carpet, and I just so happen to be the luckiest interviewer tonight." The interviewer looked ecstatic as can be as she jumps up, more energetic to interview the two of you, "And well, Y/N, one look at you, and it's hard to believe anyone would still have the ability to speak. You look gorgeous." She winked at the camera, "But I can't help but notice you just confirmed this is date night… Is it safe to assume what everyone has been wondering for the past few months? That you two are dating?"

Somehow, Timothee finally snaps out of it and looks at you, a questioning look before you leaned over and spoke into the mic, "Yeah. We're together. We have been for a while now." You smiled sheepishly as you saw Timothee's face glow as he wrapped his arm around your waist, "I apologize for keeping quiet for so long, but we think it's the right time to go public now that we've decided to take things to a more serious level."

The interviewer waves a hand in the air, "As long as you two let us in on the secret, there's no problem there." She faced the camera, "You heard it here first, folks. Hollywood's newest and hottest up and coming power couple. From both Y/N and Timothee themselves, now going public with their relationship."

As you two walked away from the interviewer for more pictures, Timothee embraced you, uncaring of the cameras flashing in your faces, "Are you serious?"

You nodded slowly, "I'm ready to be with you completely, Timothee. I'm sorry I took so long."

He shook his head like a puppy, "As long as you're here with me now, Y/N, I don't care."

He pulled away at the sound of your name and his in the same sentence as the photographers asked for your attention. He quickly kisses you on the cheek as you shut your eyes and grinned, cameras going off and commotion started up at you two, the young hot couple everyone had wanted more details on.

Timothee clutched your waist tightly, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, this would all go back to how everything was before.

Before entering the venue, he pulled you to the side, "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to force yourself."

You shook your head, guiding his head to yours, "I think I'm in love with you too, Timothee. I'm all in with you." And then you kissed him.

#Timothee Chalamet #timmy #selena gomez #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee x reader #bty #back to you #i finally updated #im so sorry i took so long #thank you for being so patient and always supporting my page #spidxysense

86 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 3 years

Text

Hard to Love [21/21]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 1621

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: I cannot believe the ending is here. I also cannot thank you enough for all the love that you guys have gave this series. I really do appreciate it and love seeing all the comments! Your words of encouragement are what kept me going for this story. I’m so so sad it’s done.

Lets finish this story with a happy ending!

Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8 @raabrakha @stxvercgersslut

ONE YEAR LATER

“Where’s my cutie pie?!” I shouted, entering the home.

Four feet trotted down the long hallway from the kitchen to the living room where I stood, hanging up my jacket and bag. Bending at the knees, I allowed all of the kisses and whines of happiness, scratching the furry ears.

“How’s Dodger doing today?” I cooed.

He followed me into the kitchen as I searched the fridge for something to ease my stomach. Munching on a piece of cheese, I checked my phone and saw a new message from Chris.

I’ll be home in a few hours. I’m sorry baby, I didn’t think these interviews would take so long.

Don’t be sorry! I’ll wait up for you xx.

The last year, I had grown incredibly; putting everything that happened to me in the past, locking it away. The scars still remained on my body but I never let it affect me. Chris would always make sure he showed extra love to them, telling me that he loved the way I look.

The first time Chris had to leave for work was a couple of months after everything and it was hard to get adjusted to sleeping in the bed alone but Dodger was the best replacement, keeping me safe every night. Chris tried to turn down movie roles but I quickly shot that down. I wouldn’t let him lose out on a possible great job because I missed him.

I ended up seeing the live video he posted when I was missing and the amount of outpouring coming from his friends and fans also helped me heal. There were a good amount of people who at first weren’t happy that Chris was in a loving relationship but eventually, when he kept posting pictures of us on Instagram, they got used to it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I saw a new message appear from Chris.

Our weekend starts in less that two hours. I can’t wait to be alone with you.

I smiled fondly at the message.

The past couple weeks were filled with either him working almost every day or me continuing my schooling. We had his family and friends over a few times last week as well so we were practically begging the Gods above for some alone time.

Which is why this weekend we had zero plans, just the two of us in our home.

And Dodger.

“OH COME ON!” Chris yelled at the T.V.

A giggle erupted from my throat from my spot on the couch, my feet placed in his lap, as we watched the football game.

Our weekend together was coming to an end, school for me and another press conference for Chris’ upcoming movie tomorrow, meant that reality was about twelve hours away. We spent the weekend in multiple different rooms of the house, our moans vibrating off the walls.

I’ve had sex more in this weekend than I had in my entire adult life.

Now, we were exhausted, so we decided to spend the rest of our Sunday in our lazy clothes on the couch; Chris wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats and I ended up stealing his shirt and a pair of his boxers.

Even though his eyes were transfixed on the game, he still made an effort to show me attention by rubbing the soles of my feet. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at this man in front of me. He let his beard grow this weekend, too lazy to shave it, which I didn’t complain one bit. The red marks on my thighs from earlier were an indication of that. His hair was short because he decided that he needed to buzz it last night; he was sick of it getting in his face.

I marveled at the way the muscle in his jaw tightened when I rubbed my feet into his lap, purposely pressing into his soft cock.

“If you keep that up, I’ll miss the last half of the game,” he threatened in a low voice.

“But I’m horny!” I whined, lifting my shirt up and over my head. “Please?”

I pinched my hard nipple between my fingers, hoping that would be enough to get him on top of me.

It was.

I yelped when Chris pulled my ankle towards him, his body on top of mine in seconds. His gold chain was dangling in front of my face as I looked up to him, our chest rising with heavy breaths.

“So naughty,” he muttered against the crook of my neck.

“Enough small talk and fuck me already, Evans,” I purred into his ear, fingernails digging into his bare back.

I couldn’t help but gnaw nervously on my bottom lip, tasting a bit of blood, while I paced the floor of our bedroom. Chris was out running errands but with the text I sent him, I knew that he would be on his way home asap.

Can you come home please? I have to talk to you.

My hands shook with nerves, feeling my cardigan being weighed down with the pressure that was in the pocket. I couldn’t help but worry about what Chris’ reaction would be. We never talked about this and I didn’t know if this would be what broke our relationship.

“Y/N?”

Hearing his voice, I made my way down the stairs and into the living room where he sat with Dodger on the couch.

“Hey, everything alright?” He asked.

I nodded and sat across from him. “Yeah, I think so.”

He knew in the way my knee bounced and sucked in my bottom lip that whatever I had to talk to him about made me nervous as hell. Placing a hand on my knee, he gave me a warm smile.

“Tell me,” he begged gently.

Words were so foreign to me, not knowing exactly how to say it, so instead I handed him what was in my pocket.

“I know we haven’t talked about it much but I couldn't not tell you. I mean you deserve to know. If you’re angry I understand. I’m confused too on how this happened,” I rambled.

Chris didn’t hear a word I had spouted, his eyes trained hard on the stick in his hand with the two solid pink lines.

“You’re pregnant?” His mouth twitched.

I nodded and handed him my phone that held an email from the doctors office, confirming the pregnancy. Yesterday morning while Chris was out with his mom, I secretly had an appointment.

“The doctor says I’m about six weeks,” I spoke softly.

I was unsure of what his reaction would be, his gaze still stuck on the pregnancy test in his hand.

Dodger knew something was different, sniffing the test in Chris’ hand.

Finally after what felt like forever, Chris looked into my eyes and his mouth curved into a smile.

“We’re having a baby?”

The smile he had was a giant one, where you could almost count all of his teeth as he smiled down towards Dodger, showing him the sonogram on my phone as if Dodger could tell what he was looking at.

The joy in his voice brought tears to my eyes.

“You’re happy?” I asked.

His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me into his lap. “I’m fucking ecstatic.”

Our lips met in a rushed kiss, his hand finding its place on my stomach. His forehead rested against mine and his eyes shone with so much love that my heart leaped into my throat, knowing that his reaction was the complete opposite of what I was prepared for.

“Stay here,” He mumbled against my lips in another kiss.

I waited patiently as he rummaged for something in the desk of his office and he returned, hand behind his back.

“I was saving this for when we went away next month but I don’t think I can wait.” He spoke before handing me a small box.

A small velvet box.

I gasped, watching him get down on one knee, and pried open the box. Inside was a gorgeous oval cut diamond on a plain gold band. The sunlight from outside had caught the ring in a warm glow of light.

“This isn’t the most romantic idea of a proposal but I don’t want to wait any longer to ask you this. I first met you in this room when you came to work for me and in that moment I knew I wanted you; I needed you in my life. Y/N, you know I love you so fucking much. You have changed my life in so many ways and now we’re having a baby. You’re having my baby and somehow I love you even more. Y/N, will you marry me?” The tears welled in his eyes and he blew out a shaky breath.

“Fuck yes!” I cried, hormones causing my eyes to pour tears down my cheeks.

After he slid the ring on my finger, he picked me up with ease as he walked us towards our bedroom so we could celebrate the rest of our lives.

I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in two years since I first drove up to this house, nervous about what the job was that I had an interview for. I never imagined that I would face my past again, not letting it define who I was anymore. And I definitely never thought I would find someone who would love me with his whole entire heart and soul, knowing how hard to love I was. But he did; Chris vowed to me that night in hushed moans that he loved me then and forever.

Along with the baby I was growing in my stomach; our baby.

AND FIN!

#chris evans #chris evans and reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans and yn #chris evans x yn #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans angst #chris evans reader insert #hard to love

332 notes · View notes

lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

A Decent Workout (NSFW Pierre Gasly)

Masterlist

Completely and utterly self indulgent fic inspired by how damn GOOD Pierre looked over preseason testing. Beta read by @acollectionofficsandshit

The buzzing of an alarm woke you not long after the sun had risen over the deserts of Bahrain. You groan, rolling over and smacking the solid shoulder of your boyfriend, startling him awake as well. “Turn it off, Pierre.”

He does as he’s told, then clumsily tucks an arm around you and pulls you to his chest. Voice rough with sleep, he murmurs, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” You echo, nuzzling into his warmth. You curl your frigid hands against his chest, utilizing your personal space heater to the fullest extent. “How long until testing?”

Pierre rests his cheek on your head. His hand traces lazy circles on your shoulder blade like you have all the time in the world. Your eyes slide shut again, sleep beaconing on the horizon. “About an hour.”

You sigh, suddenly awake. “Not much time for lounging around then."

Eagerness mingled with disappointment in his reply. “First day of the new season.”

Pierre's excitement had been palpable the entire week. Buzzing about like a honeybee on the first day of spring, he had prattled on about the specs of the AT02, what changes he was most excited to see, and his predictions on how the car would compare to others in the paddock. You offered your thoughts when prompted, but were just as happy to listen to his happy ramblings and share his enthusiasm.

It had been his idea to arrive in Bahrain early, allowing the two of you a few precious, uninterrupted days with each other. From now on, his weekends would be packed. No more last minute trips to ski resorts or visits to Charles in Monaco. Starting today, his primary focus became Formula 1. He would travel around the world to compete in a total of 23 grand prix this year, and you would follow faithfully to cheer him on.

You lay tangled in each other for a few minutes, trading sweet kisses. “I have to go,” Pierre murmurs against your lips. You tighten your grip around his bare middle, determined to make him stay a little longer.

“You’ll be gone for so long though,” You whine, pouting. The last few days had spoiled you. He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Eleven whole hours without a beautiful Frenchman to keep me company.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And besides, you can watch the entire session from the comfort of our suite.”

“It’s not the same as being in the garage.” Damn the personnel restrictions the FIA had imposed for the upcoming season. You wouldn’t be allowed in the paddock for a single race. You understood and respected the decision, but it bothered you that you couldn't be there when he inevitably made it on the podium this year.

“I know.” Pierre tapped your arm in silent request. Reluctantly, you release your death grip and allow him to slide out of bed. He turns his back to you and stretches, granting you a moment to drink him in. He had packed on a significant amount of muscle during the offseason, filling out in all the right places.

Deciding there was no use trying to go back to sleep, you rise and join him at the dresser. He rummages through it, finally settling on a plain tshirt. As usual, you can’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly slides the fabric over his head. How did he make an everyday act so inherently sexy?

Catching your stare, he fights the smile playing on his soft lips. “What?”

“Just admiring the view,” You say simply. Going up on your tiptoes, you press a meaningful kiss to his cheek. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He holds out his pinkie to you. You smile, wrapping your own tightly around it. “Promise.” He allows you one more passionate kiss before he slips out the door to make his way to the track.

At least one perk of staying in a suite was the fully stocked kitchenette. You grabbed an apple before brewing a cup of strong coffee, taking in the view off the balcony while it percolated. You could just see the track from here, something you knew Pierre had specifically requested. Although it was early, heat already rippled from the pavement. Hopefully his Alpha Tauri would stay cool and not throw a tantrum in the intense temperatures.

After a quick shower, you threw on one of Pierre’s extra shirts and let the comforting scent envelop you. Settling into bed with your coffee in hand and a laptop humming on your legs, you wait for the testing livestream to begin. In the meantime you scroll through your phone, reading the comments on the pictures of Pierre arriving at the circuit.

His carefully selected outfit had caused quite a stir and honestly, you understood why. A loose blue shirt, white skinny jeans and sunglasses. On anyone else, it wouldn’t have been impressive in any way, but on him… He somehow always managed to deliver exactly what his fans - and most importantly you - craved.

And when the livestream started and he stepped out on the track with his white and navy Alpha Tauri suit half undone, the moisture-wicking underlayer practically painted on… You damn near lost it.

In the months since last season, you’d forgotten how mouthwateringly attractive he was in a race suit. The underlayer left nothing to the imagination, clinging to the hard lines of his torso. The famous Bahrain heat didn't help your sanity either, the sweat soaked fabric turning slightly translucent in places. Your eyes stay glued to the screen as it flips between cameras, desperately praying for another glimpse of your frenchman.

How were you supposed to wait nine more agonizing hours for him to return?

As if picking up on your neediness, you didn't see another shot of Pierre for twenty minutes. The camera cut to the Alpha Tauri garage, where Pierre’s car waited in the pit lane. The closeup of him geared up sitting in his Alpha waiting patiently made you slap a hand over your mouth. Those eyes. You knew the little quirk of his brow he threw at the camera was meant solely for you; a way to unravel you when he wasn’t physically there.

You silently cursed him for how well it worked.

Moments later, the tire blankets are peeled off and his car is lowered to the ground. Gasly was one of the first drivers to head out onto the track, giving him plenty of clean air to lay down fast laps. He completes seventeen laps in the first hour, and by lap twenty he holds the second fastest time, less than a second behind Verstappen.

You try to focus on the precision and skill Pierre is displaying, but your mind keeps wandering back to the image of him standing on the track in his race suit. The consuming need to strip him out of it is incredibly distracting. It doesn’t help that your social media feeds are flooded with images of it either, offering you no reprieve.

By the end of the second hour, Pierre edges past Verstappen to take the fastest lap and go purple. He nearly holds onto it at the end of the session, just a few tenths slower than Ricciardo and Verstappen. It doesn’t matter; pride and love swell in your chest when he finally pulls back into the garage, his excitement evident before he even pulls his helmet off. The Alpha mechanics share his excitement, the camera showing them congratulating him before cutting to post session interviews.

As much as you tried, nothing could make you focus on Max or Daniel’s interviews. You spun the ring on your pinkie impatiently, waiting for Pierre to make an appearance. Ages later, he finally took a seat at the press conference. He took no mercy on you. Again dressed in crisp white and navy that accented his sun kissed skin, the ring twin to yours back on his finger…

“Fuck me,” You groaned, throwing your head back. Even with half his face covered, he was still breathtakingly gorgeous. He carried himself with an easy confidence that no one else on the grid could match, on top of the world and determined to make it everyone else’s problem.

The entire time he spoke, you dreamed of running your tongue up the column of his neck, right over his Adam’s apple. You could taste the salt settled in the hollow of his collarbone, hear his breath catching as you worshipped him.

Only half an hour until he came home to you.

The interview finally ended and you snapped your laptop shut, tossing it to the chair at the bedside. The second he came through that door, you’d pounce on him. Ten hours of straight torture, being forced to endure watching other women on social media drool over him and being unable to congratulate him on his amazing morning session at the garage.

And fuck, would you congratulate him.

Minutes dragged by as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, the endless pictures of Pierre not helping your desperation. You started at the sound of a key fitting in a lock. Throwing your phone aside, you scrambled from the bed, launching yourself at the door as it opened.

“Hey baby-”

You cut him off with a feral kiss, your lust boiling over. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate in dropping his bag and kicking the door shut behind him. He caught you when you jumped, broad hands cupping your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I love whoever designed Alpha’s suit,” You mumble between the open-mouthed kisses you pepper along his stubbled jaw. “You look fucking amazing in white.”

“I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along.” Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull, exposing the thick column of his neck. Your tongue darts across his skin, savoring the softness. He groans, his grip shifting to dig his fingers into your thighs.

You don’t pause when he lays you on the bed, mouth continuing its needy exploration down to his shoulder. He settles over you, his solid body a familiar and welcome weight against you.

“I couldn’t concentrate on anything once you stepped out onto the track,” You tell him, hands slipping under his polo. “Do you know how many women were talking about you today?”

“There’s only one that I care about,” He murmurs, pulling back to strip off his shirt. You take advantage of the power shift to wriggle out from under him. “Where are you-”

“Lay down,” You say, quiet but firm. The corner of his mouth quirks up but he obeys, taking his sweet time. You don’t mind; watching his shoulders ripple as he settles back against the downy pillows.

“Miss me much?” He taunts, the deep baritone resonating with some primal part within you and sending a shiver down your spine. “Usually our roles are flipped.”

You bracket a bare leg on either side of his with a wicked grin. “Do you really think I’d let you set the pace when you tortured me all day?” You bite your lip and let your gaze wander over the hard planes of his pecs, down his sculpted abdomen, finally coming to rest at the line of muscle disappearing beneath his waistband. You don’t miss the way his attention dips to your thighs, your center barely covered by the hem of his band tee you wore.

Pierre grins, folding an arm behind his head. “Do your worst.”

Your shirt joined his on the floor, piercing blue eyes eating up your newly exposed skin. You sink forward, eye to eye with him. You tip your head to the side, letting your hair slide forward to tickle his shoulder as you lean in to whisper, “I will.”

Lips, teeth and tongue float over his skin, leaving small, easily hidden marks in your wake. You let your hands slide across his abdomen as your mouth makes its way down his sternum, pausing to delight in his rapidly beating heart.

Fingers brushing the waistband of his riot-inducing white jeans, you press a tender kiss just below his belly button. "Why do you always insist on wearing white?"

"D-drives you wild," He gasps out, stumbling over the simple words. You hum against his skin in response, cock twitching against your shoulder. One of his hands flies back to grip the headboard, veins in his forearm bulging.

Only when his eyes slide shut in anticipation do you finally undo the button, unzipping his fly agonizingly slow. Your name is a breathless plea tumbling from him as you ghost your fingers over his length. He lifts his hips just enough to allow you to slide his jeans down his thighs, followed by his boxers. The tip of your finger runs along the underside of his shaft, causing him to groan. The headboard creaks under his crushing grip as he tries to stop himself from shattering at your barest touch.

Flicking your tongue over the tip, you spread the bead of precum that had gathered there. Slipping into French, Pierre swears viciously, his free hand tangling in your hair. He may know how to make you squirm from across the city, but you knew how to return the favor tenfold.

"You gonna win for me in two weeks, my love?" You purr, curling your fingers around his cock.

"I'll w-win every race if it means you'll fuck me," He replies immediately, wholly submitted to the promise of your touch.

You hum noncommittally before taking the tip of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the head. His hips buck, but you're already reacting in anticipation of that very movement. He groans in frustration when your mouth leaves him. A welcome change from your normal games, when it was his head between your thighs, his teasing tongue flicking across your center, your hips rocking in frustration. You enjoy his frustration for a few breaths, lazily drawing circles on his hip like he had done to you that morning.

"I think that could be arranged."

Bracing your hands on his chest, you position yourself so your slick folds brush against his cock. Arching your back, you grind your hips against him, your own chest heaving in time with his. The hours of anticipation had left you dripping wet, evidence of the effect he had on you. You silently praised yourself for your restraint; you wanted to drag out his need and tease him like he had done to you all damn day.

"Mon amour," he murmurs, and you damn near lose your mind. Two words in his native tongue, dripping with honeyed softness but spoken with such rawness, it sets your soul on fire.

You reach a hand back, guiding him into as you sink down. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the thickness of him, and you have to give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness.

Sweat beads on his golden brow as you begin to ride him in earnest, his hips rolling to meet yours. Panting, you dig your nails into his forearm, leaving angry red crescents behind. No matter how many times you fucked, it always felt like the first. The perfect fit never ceased to amaze you, the angle of your hips putting delicious pressure on that magic spot inside you with every thrust.

"Pierre," You breathe, head falling back. His own thrusts become more frenzied, the wet sound of skin on skin sending a bolt of ecstasy through you.

His breathy moan of your name guides you over the edge into oblivion, your orgasm slamming white hot over you. Your desperate movements begin to slow, Pierre stilling beneath you as you struggle to regain your senses. Limbs shaking, you roll over, allowing yourself a moment to steady your breathing before turning back to him.

Pierre jerks when you take him in your mouth once more, tasting yourself on his cock. Hollowing your cheeks while taking as much of him as you can, you wrap your hand around the rest of him.

"Fuck," He mumbles, over and over as he thrusts his hips into your mouth a handful of times before his release finds him. His hips jerk as he cums, your tongue coaxing every last drop from him. You let him finish before swallowing the salty liquid, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Sighing blissfully, you collapse onto the pillow next to your beloved. His arm hooks around you, still sticky with sweat but you don't care.

“I would say that counts as my workout for today,” He jokes, voice shaking in the aftermath. You laugh, wrapping an arm around his chest.

"Tomorrow, I choose your outfit."

Pierre’s laugh rumbles through you, setting your toes curling. "As long as it makes you attack me when I get home, I'll wear anything you ask me to."

#my writing #pierre gasly #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 rpf

237 notes · View notes

divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

The Cracks in Our Reality (2)

Summary: Loki hates the Executive Manager of the Avengers Tower because she’s too loud and too sarcastic and too kind and too soft, especially to him, who really doesn’t deserve it.

Characters: Loki/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), language, mentions of sex

A/N: Thanks for reading! You guys have been so incredible with your support on JUST the first chapter! I won't leave you hanging. Updates weekly on Saturday.

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Playlist

“You’re incredible. A life saver. A genuine Mother Teresa. God is a woman.”

You wave him off, draining the last of the tea from your to-go cup.

“You know, if you keep talking like that, you’re just going to fuel my god complex.”

Mike from Accounting grins at this, shuffling the paperwork you handed off to him only moments before. It was sloppily done, the forms filled out in a hurry as soon as the accounting department called you. They were always having problems with the books—half of that was Tony’s outrageous spending, the other half was the neverending damages the Avengers kept ringing up on the metaphorical receipt.

You didn’t even work in finance, but someone had to get the job done, and who better to do it than the Executive Manager of the Tower?

“Well, I don’t know about this god complex, but can I buy you another coffee for your trouble?”

Mike’s cute. He’s slim, brunet, has glasses that sit a little crooked on his nose. You bet he’s just a little kinky in the bedroom. Like, doggy style is his flavor, and maybe a slap or two on the ass in the throes of passion. He’s cute, but he’s not that cute, and it’s not like he’s asking you on a date or anything.

You flash him your Signature Smile. “I really shouldn’t have any more caffeine, but thanks for the offer. You don’t owe me anything.”

Then, you slide off his desk, heels clacking on the ugly tiling that covers the accounting department’s floor. With a shimmy, you adjust your pencil skirt from where it’s ridden up your thighs, hands fluttering down your silk dress shirt to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles. Then, you twirl around to look back at him.

He leans his elbow on his desk, chin in his palm, as he looks over you. “Next time then.”

You give him a mock salute. “Have a good rest of your day!” Then you’re strutting off toward the elevator, content to head back up to your office and get the rest of your work down.

From behind you, Mike from Accounting shouts, “Thanks again!”

The elevator shuts, already on its way back up.

It’s nothing new, really. The bouncing around, the extra work, the pulling overtime to get someone else’s work done for them when they’re overwhelmed. The hurried finance forms aren’t anything new—and in a month or two, Mike from Accounting will be calling you again, asking for you to redo the forms that someone else fucked up.

It’s what you’re paid to do. Kinda.

By the time the elevator doors are opening to the main floor, you’re already swiping through the schedules for the week on your tablet. A thread of annoyance is tugging at the back of your neck, a twinge of pain in your muscles from being too tense, too stressed. Your feet are already killing you, toes squished in the stylish heels you decided to wear last minute because you swore you’d be cooped up in your office all day reorganizing the schedules and making room for the press conference.

The press conference for stupid Loki Odinson, whose doing his community service as a probationary Avenger. Stupid fucking Tony Stark, who didn’t tell you that Loki Odinson, the God who tried to take over New York, was coming to stay at the Tower. Stupid fucking Steve Rogers, who tried to tell a little white lie about “forgetting” to mention it. Hah! You’d whipped his ass for that last night, giving him The Look until he finally broke and told you the truth—that Tony made him agree to not tell you.

Oh, and you’d put Tony on blast for that, too. The conversation ended with him promising you a day trip to the spa and a shopping spree for all his bullshit, not that you’d be accepting it. You really just liked to watch him sweat.

And stupid fucking Bucky Barnes for still being away on his solo mission.

Okay, but really you’re pissed at Loki because you’d tried to be nice to him and bring him dinner after you noticed he hadn’t eaten, and you brought him some extra blankets because Thor told you about his whole heritage deal and you don’t really know anything about frost giants, but maybe Loki doesn’t like being cold like a frost giant. And the motherfucker had the audacity to pull a knife on you. You’re sure he hates you because you most certainly hate him.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, finger pressed against the screen of your tablet. Everything around you is quiet. The common room is empty and the sanctuary that is your office is only a few more steps away. The light of day spreads through the Tower, spilling out from the floor-to-ceiling windows and making everything warm. You shiver despite it.

You don’t hate Loki Odinson.

He’s an asshole, sure, but from what you’ve heard from Thor, the dude hasn’t had it easy. And you know, somewhere deep down, you should be a little more gentle with him. He’s not the first person to pull a knife on you when you’ve sneaked up on them. You’re used to that.

You should know better than to bark back at a caged animal.

As soon as you enter your office, you kick your heels off underneath your desk and slouch into the comfort of your leather chair. Despite the temperature, your fingers are cold and stiff—they ache slightly when you pick up a pen to sketch out the new schedules. You lean your head back and groan.

Every time you cross-check someone’s schedule with another, you curse Tony’s name. By the time you have three sticky notes on your free hand reminding you of appointments that need to be moved around, you’re calling him unsavory names that don’t make any sense when spoken aloud, but they sure make you feel better.

Natasha comes knocking just as you’re mumbling about Tony’s lifelike resemblance to the stale ends of sliced bread, and when you look up to greet her, your desk is covered in a sea of brightly-colored notes with varying degrees of importance, noted by the multiple—or lack thereof—exclamation points on each.

“Hey,” you greet with a sigh.

She leans over your desk and reaches for your face. You flinch until she rips something off your cheek, the barest hint of a burn as the sticky note you’d somehow lost a few minutes ago pulls your peach fuzz.

“Hey,” she mimics, reading the note. “Looks like I’m not having that photoshoot on the 8th.”

“Don’t get me started!” you whine, snatching the reminder back. Thanks to the sticky notes still attached to your fingers, you don’t get enough traction to yank it back, but Natasha takes pity on you and smacks it onto a free surface.

But it’s enough to make her laugh, and that fact puts a smile back on your face.

“You scheduled the press conference already?” she asks, grabbing one of the plastic chairs Steve made you keep in your office after he came to have lunch with you once and had to stand while chowing down on his salad.

“Of course.” You huff, peeling your fingers free. “Now I’m just dealing with the damages. Mr. I’m-So-Great-I-Can-Do-No-Wrong-Stark needed it scheduled pronto, something about Fury and a compromise and ‘the trust of the citizens.’”

Natasha nods, eyes scanning over some of the reminders. “I didn’t realize schedules were so damn complicated.”

“It’s why they pay me the big bucks,” you joke, hands threading through your hair to pull it away from your face. The gentle tug on your scalp feels soothing. “It’s overly complicated because there’s so many of you, and I have to cross-reference everything to make sure nothing clashes, plus mission scheduling, and all of you have routines that I take into account.”

She whistles, and it flips a switch in your brain.

“I’m not complaining,” you say quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not even hard. I just have to spend the rest of today making some calls to move everything around and then the schedules will be right again. It’s easy.”

“ Zaika,” she calls gently. Natasha is only ever gentle when the two of you are behind closed doors. “It’s not an easy job. That’s why Tony hired you—you’re the best there is at this stuff.”

You shrug at the red-head. “I’m decent at it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one who ever goes above and beyond to take care of us, y’know.”

“Well you should be taken care of. You’re always taking care of humanity or doing whatever else you Russian spies do.”

She cracks a grin at that and you can’t help but do the same.

“Damn straight.” As you pull up a list of press contacts to start calling, Natasha looks down at her watch. “It’s past lunchtime and I bet you haven’t eaten yet,” she says with a knowing glance. You have enough decency to pretend like you don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nattie?” You bat your eyes at her.

“No way, we’re going dutch.”

“Dutch is a date.”

“No, it’s not, and if you’re going dutch on your dates you need to tell me who the hell is taking you out because I want to speak to them.”

With a flick of your wrist, you toss a couple of takeout menus across the desk to her. “Chill out. It’s not like I’ve been on a real date in the past—”

The shrill bell tones of your phone interrupt you and your knees clatter painfully into your desk as you jump from the sound. You lunge for where it’s hidden under a thick binder full of finance notes you used earlier, pressing it to your ear immediately.

And once again, you’re lost in the whirlwind of your job.

As the man on the other side rants about some minuscule problem he’s having with an upcoming interview scheduled for Sam Wilson—something about a security issue, and now you’re dreading broaching the topic of changing the date—you vaguely gesture at Natasha to leave. It’s unlikely you’ll be taking a lunch break today.

She gives you the Evil Eye, the look where she purses her lips like an irritated mother and draws her eyebrows together in a way that screams about you being irresponsible. In the end, she stands and starts to head out the door, but not before turning to give you one last disappointed glare.

Natasha points two fingers to her eyes and flicks them in your direction: I’m watching you.

Then she’s gone, closing your office door behind you, leaving you to put your phone on speaker so you can massage your aching temples where a headache is beginning to bloom.

It’s one in the morning and you’re shoveling the boiling hot ramen you just microwaved down your gullet like a starved man, standing in the darkness of the kitchen to hide your shameful dinner when the lights flicker on overhead and suddenly, you’re frozen. Your eyes must be bugging out of your head when you look at whoever just caught you slurping up the remnants of the first meal you’ve had in hours.

And of course, it’s the blond-haired blue-eyed babe of a God who strides in, looking nothing but chipper until he sees you leaned against the counter, dressed only in a frumpy t-shirt and threadbare pajama shorts, feet bare and cold. To top it off, you know there is soup on your chin. You just know it.

“My lady!” he booms and you wince, hoping he doesn’t wake the whole ass tower up with his projection. “Why did you not join us all for dinner earlier? Stark provided pizza!”

You shrug, hiding your face in your bowl of noodles. “I was busy, and even if I wasn’t, you know I’m not a fan of pizza.”

He frowns and it looks so funny on his normally cheery face, almost like it pains him to say what he’s about to say. He takes a step toward you.

“My lady,” he says lowly, “I do not know anything of the sort. Anyone who claims to not love the grand Midgardian pizza is either lying, or they are my enemy.”

You snort. “I don’t like Pop-Tarts either and you know that, too.”

Thor shakes his head, slaps his big hand upon his big chest, and buckles his knees like a dramatic fool. His other hand reaches out for your forearm as if he’s begging for you to save him from whatever untimely death he’s experiencing at your pickiness.

“Treason!” he shouts. “Lying to your king!”

You pull your arm away from him to shove another forkful of ramen into your awaiting mouth.

“Not my king,” you mumble, snickering under your breath. Thor wouldn’t understand that reference even if you tried to explain American politics to him.

When Thor finally decides enough is enough and whatever brought him into the kitchen is more important than annoying you, he passes by you and heads to the pantry. You can hear the crinkling of a foil package before he turns back to face you, and low and behold, there are three packages of Pop-Tarts in his grip.

Like the true king he is, he offers you a pack, giving you the most exaggerated eye roll in history when you shake your head at him.

It’s a comfortable silence that occupies the kitchen while you both chow down. You don’t speak to each other, don’t look at one another, just enjoy the company and the orchestra of chewing and slurping and the gentle sounds of the tower at night. By the time you’ve finished off your bowl, placing it into the sink quietly, Thor’s demolished his snack and is brushing crumbs from his comfy red sweatshirt.

You waggle your fingers at him in a half-hearted wave, but Thor grabs your hand in his own. His palm engulfs yours. You swallow back whatever words seemed to think they could slither out from between your lips as you look at how gently he cradles you.

When you look up at him, his eyes are soft.

“I am sorry,” he says as if you should know what he means.

“For what?”

His gaze turns to the floor, almost ashamed. “For Loki.”

“Oh, Thor.” You don’t hesitate to pull your hand away from his in order to wrap your arms around his neck, stretching up on your tiptoes. “You don’t have to be sorry for your brother. He has to apologize for himself. It’s not your fault.”

He had felt terrible when you told him what happened the other night, although you definitely left key parts out of the story you recounted to him. Thor had apologized then, too, even with the absence of the dagger in the story, but you told him you understood what Loki must be feeling right now, that you understood he needed time to warm up. Unwillingly, Thor accepted that you were letting the incident slide, but really, what were you going to do? Get Loki chained up again? Cut off his magic?

Yeah, ‘cause that would totally help him mesh with the cool kids.

After a long moment, you feel Thor’s arms tighten around your waist, hands pressing into the small of your back as he bends to accommodate your height. Or maybe it’s to get closer to you, to press further into you. Like the soft puppy he is, you stroke the back of his head, nails scratching over his scalp lightly.

“He’s better than this,” Thor whispers. “I want him to be better than this.”

You think about all the things you could say, but none of them sound right. The soft-hearted side of you says to tell him that everyone deserves second and third and fourth chances, that he and Loki both have their issues they need to work on if they ever want to work on their relationship. The jaded side of you says that no one gets second chances in this world. Second chances only open the door to a second betrayal—a second chance to be hurt. Chances never bring change.

“He needs time,” you finally say, but you don’t know if you believe your own words. “You both need time to heal.”

It’s not the first time someone’s pulled a knife on you before, and you know better, but you aren’t sure if you know for better or for worse.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @poetic-fiasco @suffocatinglypositive @melancholic-metanoia @lucywrites02 @delightfulheartdream @its-bucky-barnes-bitch @mochminnie @httpjazel @sciamachy-after-dusk @girl-obsessed-with-things

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki love #avengers loki #plus size reader #redemption loki #loki fanfic #the cracks in our reality #loki pov #loki series #thanks for supporting me!

271 notes · View notes

alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 3

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.4K

**read this first!**a/n: be sure to read the newspaper article at the end of Jimin’s POV, it’s important to the story! if you’re unable to see the words b/c they’re too small, please comment/let me know and I’ll fix it! If you’re on mobile, you should be able to click on it and flip it to horizontal. That should make it easier to read.

Chapter 3. Fake Smile

series masterlist

Jimin fiddles with a loose thread hanging off the end of his sleeve, minding his business as hushed staff members bustle around the room. He’s wearing a pristine white jacket over his button down shirt. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last dressed up for anything.

“Ok, we’re ready to go,” someone in the distance says. Jimin sits up a little straighter, trying his best to look overjoyed to be here. A familiar makeup artist rushes forward, dabbing at his face and giving him a warm look.

“Oh, let me get this for you,” she mumbles, noticing the loose thread that Jimin keeps twisting and pulling. Taking a pair of small scissors from the bag around her waist, she goes to cut the string.

Jimin tenses up, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “No, leave it,” he mumbles. The makeup artist doesn’t hear him, thinking he’s just being polite.

Suddenly Jimin jumps up, backing away as fast as he can. “Leave it be!” He sobs, bringing his hand close to his chest.

Everyone freezes, looking to the idol with a mixture of worry and confusion. The makeup artist from before is the first one to put two and two together, bowing low and profusely apologizing.

It takes a few minutes for Jimin to come back to his senses, finally going through some breathing exercises and assuring the worried staff that he’s fine. When he finally settles back on the stool, the same makeup artist hurries over, keeping her eyes averted as she hurriedly touches up his makeup.

The guilt hits Jimin like a brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes perfectly reflecting how horrible he feels for his outburst. “You just took me by surprise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the young woman mumbles. “I should have known better.”

Before Jimin can respond, the woman scurries away and it’s time for Jimin to film his short message to be shown at the concert.

Jimin has worn a few fake smiles in his lifetime, however as he lies straight to the camera, claiming that his muscle spasms have returned and that he’s working toward a speedy recovery, he can’t recall the lies ever hurting this much.

“Please wait for me,” Jimin says, his close-lipped smile hopefully countering the look in his eyes. “Enjoy the concert! Fighting!” He goes to raise his hand in a fist, but stops as he catches sight of his red thread in his peripheral.

Once the video is cut and Jimin is given the OK to head out, he slips out of the room immediately. A part of him would love to just go ahead and disappear into one of the empty rooms within the Bighit building, but he knows that he has to attend the meeting that Bang Sihyuk called for him and all the members.

By the time he makes it into the conference room everyone else is already there. He feels a bit more relieved when he enters the room and they don’t immediately halt in their conversation. Instead, Taehyung pulls Jimin to sit down beside him, giving him a boxy smile.

“Alright,” Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table with a soft look in his eye. “Are we ready?”

A round of agreement goes around the table, Jimin folding his hands on the table and doing his best to keep his eyes on the wall behind Hobi’s head. He definitely was aware of the line of red threads that trailed into the conference room, fighting the pang of hurt that was bound to arise.

The meeting starts off normally enough, going over a quick review of their upcoming schedule and making sure everything is prepared for their next concerts in Japan. The boys occasionally make comments or express concerns with the schedule, and everyone works together to resolve any issues that may arise.

For the first time all week, Jimin feels...normal.

That feeling comes crashing down when Bang Sihyuk’s voice rings out, calling Jimin’s name.

“We have a few options for how we can move forward,” he begins. “But I just want you to keep in mind that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles.

Sitting back, Bang Sihyuk claps his hands. “That being said, we have a few options. I’m not sure what you would feel best about, so please weigh in with your opinion.”

With that being said the entire room begins to delve into the separate ideas. Of course the company sending out a statement is one of the first ideas to be discussed, however Jimin can’t shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies it.

“I know that we can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Jimin states, sitting forward in his seat. “But isn’t there a way that we could just...I don’t know…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say in the first place.

Namjoon, who Jimin notices hasn’t even looked at him in the eye during this entire meeting, clears his throat. “We can always just take the ‘no comment’ route. I mean, there’s sure to be a lot of rumors that accompany that, but there’s going to be rumors no matter what.”

“No comment?”

Bang Sihyuk nods. “That’s basically just us refusing to ever shed light on the situation. Honestly...we might have to take that route anyway, because we really don’t know what happened. Instead of scrambling for some sort of explanation, we could just allow people to wonder. I’m not sure if Jimin would feel comfortable with-”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to Jimin, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, fiddling with the severed thread.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Like Namjoon said; there’s going to be rumors no matter what. Let them wonder. Frankly the idea of offering up some sort of patched together explanation every time people ask me about this,” he holds up his hand for emphasis, “sounds exhausting and never ending. Which, all of this will be, but I’d like to just keep this for myself.”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone takes in this information, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the verdict. In the end, it’s Jungkook who ventures to speak first.

“I think you have a point,” he says, shooting his friend an understanding look. “People are going to be asking about it nonstop and spreading rumors, so I’d feel better if what we answer is on our terms. People can so easily twist our responses.”

After a couple more minutes of discussion and debate, they settle it. Deciding to take the ‘no comment’ route for now, Jimin feels a wave of relief come over him. Namjoon, too, appears to be relieved with this decision.

Once the meeting is over, Jimin doesn’t miss the way Namjoon practically hurtles out of the room.

“Where’s he headed to?” He asks the others. Jin shrugs.

“I think he said he had to meet with Chung-hei.”

There’s a pang of pain at the mention of Namjoon’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it might have the day before. “Oh.” Before the others can dive in to make him feel better, Jimin changes the subject. “Have you guys already eaten?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the possibility of his best friend joining in on a meal with them. “Nope. Let’s go!”

The boys surround Jimin as they head down into the small cafeteria area, a few staff wandering around. The makeup artist from this morning keeps her head down, shooting Jimin a sheepish smile before scampering off. Jimin winces, recalling the events of the morning. How he’d lost complete control-

“Who even reads the paper anymore?” Jungkook asks aloud, grabbing an abandoned article from off a table. “I didn’t realize that they still delivered hard copies.”

Jimin wanders over, forcing a half-smile to his face. “Is it a real newspaper?” Before he can grab it, Jungkook drops the paper almost as though it burned his skin.

“Er, no,” he stutters out, earning a confused look from everyone around the table. “I think it’s a fake, I’ll just throw it away-”

Jimin reaches out and grabs the newspaper before Jungkook can do anything, eyes widening as they glance over the front page. Everyone else gathers around, falling eerily quiet. In the end, it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence.

“I’m sure it’s just some dumb misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “You know how reporters get.”

Jimin can hardly find it in himself to nod, rereading the article again and again.

For the first time in his life, Jimin wishes that the gossip column were true.

✂

Typically, the second I’m done with work, I do my best to not think of bread for the rest of the day. Today, however, is different.

My tiny apartment has been transformed, the kitchen dusted over with a thin layer of flour. On the counter sits an old wooden slab, a chunk of dough sitting atop it. And then there’s me.

Hands cracked to oblivion, hair pulled back in what can only be identified as a bird’s nest, panting as I flatten the dough again and again. It’s the same process that I’ve been doing for years, my shoulders hardly aching anymore with the constant practice.

Punch.

Press.

Repeat.

The sound of me beating the dough to a pulp is ringing in my ears, and when I finally step back with a huff, it takes me a moment to hear something scratching at the door. Shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing noise, I listen closer.

“Who’s there?”

A quick glance out the window shows my empty porch, however the scratching continues. Now that it’s steadily growing darker, I can’t tell if there’s anything out there.

Am I being haunted? Is this my punishment for cutting the thread?

Slowly, I open the door, wincing at the white mark I leave behind from my flour-heavy hands. “Hello?”

I get a meow in response.

Looking down, I meet eyes with a pristine white cat that sits on its back legs and looks up at me with unwavering annoyance.

“What?” I ask the cat, that simply blinks up at me. “What are you so annoyed about? You’re the one that knocked, not me.”

Nearly rolling its light colored eyes at me, the cat stretches before looking back up expectantly. From the white fur that doesn’t have a single spec of dirt, to the look it’s giving me, I feel like I just stumbled upon the queen’s cat.

“By all means, come in,” I croon, stepping aside and watching with no small amount of amusement as the cat leaps inside. It immediately heads toward the couch, jumping atop it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I mumble.

Ignoring my visitor for now, I go back to the counter and stare down at the dough. I’ve been kneading this for a while now, it’s flat enough that it might never rise. That’s not what I got it for, though. There’s already some bread baking in the oven.

Half-heartedly throwing one fist at it, I find that I’ve completely lost any energy. Instead I just stare down at the wooden slab, and wonder.

It’s the same thing that I’ve been wondering about all day. My thoughts go in endless circles, always coming back around to the same thing.

Park Jimin.

After Chung-hei appeared at the shop a couple of days ago, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what I’ve done. When I told her my reasoning, recalling the awful experience she had and admitting that I was a coward and didn’t want to go through the same thing, Chung-hei looked at me with something akin to realization.

“Jolie,” she had muttered, stopping me from hitting the dough again. “You know that he would love you, right? You’re enough. More than enough.”

Which led me to this moment, pulling out the wooden slab and spending my entire evening beating some dough and trying to beat out my emotions as well. It still hasn’t worked.

“What’s your name?”

The cat’s ears twitch a little at my sudden question, however it just continues to stare at me like I might be insane. Judging from my recent actions, I’d say it isn’t wrong.

“Are you planning on staying the night, or…?”

A swish of its tail and the cat is sinking lower into the couch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Finally abandoning the dough and washing my hands off, I meander over to my new roommate. “What should I call you? I have a feeling you won’t take kindly to just being called ‘cat’, right?”

The cat gives me a death glare, confirming my suspicions.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. Settling down beside the white cat, I admire its fur. “But I wonder why you’re here? You look like you’re well taken care of. And no collar?” Hesitantly reaching out, I double check that there is no collar hidden in its long fur. “Don’t think so. I’ll let you stay the night,” I concede. “But tomorrow you’ve got to find your way back home, ok?”

The cat swivels its head to look at me, looking offended that I would even say such a thing. It lets out a woeful mewl.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Another mewl. “Huh.”

Running my hands through its long fur, I lean my head against the wall, watching the evening turn darker and darker. The cat also joins me in my silent watch, never moving an inch as it emits a soft pur.

“I’m lost, too.” The words tumble from my mouth, a little broken. I keep my eyes ahead, watching the outside as though it will disappear at any given moment.

From the corner of my eye I see a bundle of white fur scooting toward me until the cat lumbers up into my lap. Chuckling through the unshed tears, I sniffle and adjust so we’re both comfortable.

“Should I call you ‘L’ for lost?” I ask abestmindely. I nearly jolt out of my skin when the cat hisses up at me. “Ok, ok. You’re a lady, I get it. What about ‘Elle’? You know, e-l-l-e. That’s like a princess name. Very pretty. We’ll be the only ones that know what it really means. ‘Elle’ for lost.”

I receive no further objections.

Snuggling down into the sofa, I keep my eyes open for as long as I can until they drift shut against my will.

✂

When I awake, the world is still dark. Not unusual, considering that I tend to wake up around this time everyday, but something is off-

“Elle!”

The cat in question jumps off my lap, bolting toward the door. Groaning, I rub at the back of my neck.

“Good morning. What time is it?” A quick peek at my phone that’s nearly dead has me groaning a second time. It’s already time to get up. Waddling toward the bathroom, a loud meow makes me pause.

“What?” Elle scratches a little at the door, giving me a withering gaze. “Oh. Right.” I hurry over to open the door. “Well, thanks for visiting, feel free- aaand she’s gone.”

Laughing quietly to myself, I head into the bathroom to get ready. Making sure to not even look at the mirror until I’ve scrubbed my face, I get straight to it.

I’m nearly running late when I finally leave my apartment, but thankfully the shop isn’t far from here. It allows me to walk there most mornings.

The world is still asleep as I walk down the street, admiring the dull grays and blues of the early morning. There’s a hint of a chill in the air, but it’s nothing that a brisk walk won’t take care of.

It’s in these moments of quiet that I feel like the world is pressing down on me so heavily. Unafraid of people gawking and seeing my cut thread, I let my hands hang out of my pockets.

There’s nothing to be afraid of this early in the morning. It’s only when the sun begins to rise is when trouble begins to stir up. So I take advantage of the peace that settles over me as I make my way to work. No doubt my shoulders will resent me a bit today as I spent all of my free time yesterday beating dough.

As the sleepy world continues in its quiet vigil, my thoughts return to the exchange I had with Chung-hei a couple of days ago.

“You told me you wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

Chung-hei sighs, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I was foolish. It sucked, of course it did. Suddenly I had a target on my back. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what-”

“The only way I was able to get through that and am still able to, is because of the people I have surrounding me. I have you! I have Namjoon! As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I really need. It was difficult, but I learned to quit worrying so much about what other people expected or wanted from me. I know who I love, and that’s all that matters.”

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

Nearly jumping into the street, I can’t help but yell a little as Chung-hei appears before me. She’s standing in front of the shop, a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, clutching my chest. “Why are you trying to scare me so much?”

My friend laughs. “It’s too fun, honestly. What? I can’t come to visit you at work anymore?”

“Weren’t you just here a couple of days ago?”

Chung-hei clears her throat. “Ah. Right.” She rubs at her arms. “Should we go inside, then? Fire up the oven? It’s chilly.”

Giving her a long look, I glance down at my thread. Despite being fully aware of my decision, it still shocks me a bit whenever I see the frayed end. Still a dull red, the thread looks so out of place now.

“Sure, I guess.” I grab my key out of my pocket, heading toward the front door. “Actually, I could use some help. I think I nearly beat the life out of some dough yesterday, I can hardly move my arms now.”

“Yeah. Namjoon can help.”

I stop with the door halfways open. “What do you-” Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly lose all ability to speak as I watch my friend rounding the corner of the building with none other than Kim Namjoon in tow.

He’s taller than I imagined.

And somehow able to make me what to run for the hills.

I stare at the man, forgetting all sort of courtesy or manners as he looks down at the ground sheepishly. Slowly, I turn to my friend.

“What.”

Chung-hei has the good sense to look a little apologetic. “I...you never got to meet him.”

I stare at her a moment longer, struggling to read whatever emotions are in her eyes. My heart catches in my throat. “He knows, doesn’t he.”

At this, Namjoon looks up with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t even try to lie,” I hiss out. “I’ve known your soulmate for much longer than you have, and I can tell when she’s trying to fix all my problems. Looks like she brought some help from the outside this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. I turn back to Chung-hei, who looks like she’s fighting against chewing me out for insulting her soulmate. Despite feeling a little bad for being so rude, I can’t help the anger that boils inside me.

My best friend, I realize, is no longer my confidant. It’s something I thought of before. Once we found our soulmates, it was only a matter of time before those roles shifted. However it doesn’t stop the pain that comes with seeing it firsthand.

The urge to turn and lock them out of the shop is overwhelming, but I stand still for a moment longer. The blue of the early morning is turning gray, almost matching the dark circles under Namjoon’s eyes. I see now just how much he must have gone through to get here.

Regardless of the circumstances, I still cherish my friendship with Chung-hei. Years of experiences and heartbreak can’t get washed away so easily.

“Can you work the dough?” I ask a little roughly, fighting against the lump in my throat. Namjoon blinks, looking shocked.

“Ah, see. I told you she’d come around.” Chung-hei drawls, grinning at me. I can’t quite find it in me to return her smile just yet. “I’ll help him,” she promises.

Sighing, I nod. “Come in, then. I hope you can talk and work at the same time. I have a feeling you prepared a speech.”

Previous - Next

masterlist

taglist is open! comment/send an ask/click on the link in my series Masterlist to join it!

taglist: @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @onewoneman @preciouschimine @missseoulite @moon-write @marianeamine @somewhereinthestarss @chubsjmin @daydreamerwestwood @010op10 @4evahevah @mawwnsterr @hikka-light @biasnation

103 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 3 - Her Father’s Daughter

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunvelies @sunwoowuvbot

“You want the luxury of a choice? I’ll give one to you right now, so you better make the right one.”

“Now, this just coming in-- The next director of Apple-Korea, Lee Juyeon and Hera’s Princess, Kim Jang Won... have been reportedly dating for almost three years now!”

“No!”

“Yes! And get this: this wedding? It’s been on the planning table for almost 6 months!”

Lee Juyeon peers out the window as the car slows to a halt, hazel brown orbs scanning the traffic outside. Multiple LED screens on the sides of corporate buildings were broadcasting the news. The crinkling of a plastic wrapper ruins the beauty the amount of shock amongst the community was bringing Juyeon, cuing him to turn back and face his fellow passenger. The sight of Kim Jang Won awakens his corporate-thinking brain, processing the gravity of the news she falsely put out just about... five minutes ago.

“Your father just climbed out of his own grave and you wouldn’t give him half a day to busk in the spotlight, huh?”

“Mm,” She hums, gracefully taking a bite out of the fruit-yoghurt bar. “I would’ve given him a lifetime worth of spotlight if he came back as a zombie and there would be some sign of actual death but-- nah, he’s been alive since the day we thought he all dropped dead from that heart attack of his. God knows where he’s been the last two years, hiding and letting me build HERA & ARTEMIS... only to take it away from me?” She shakes her head, smacking her lips and taking another bite. “Not a chance.”

Juyeon laughs through his exhales, unsure whether he’s more in disbelief he’s trapped in this chaos or how poised Jang Won’s uncouthness in handling this situation was. His phone buzzes, and he coyly pulls it out to check the message in the screen amongst all the other stupid headlines.

Young Jin Seol [12.52pm] : You’ve been schedule for a meeting with The Board at 4pm later, sir.

He locks the device and slides it back into the inner breast pocket of his blazer. “I assume your brother is taking this better than you?”

“Excuse you, I think I’m taking this much better than most people expected me to. Well, better than I expected myself to,” The wrapper crinkles when she finishes it. The car drives up into the entrance of her mansion, easily dozens of reporters already beginning to pillow the car.

“I have a meeting with The Board later at 4pm. Will you be present?” Juyeon raises a brow, watching Jang Won slide on her sunglasses. Her blue fingernails glimmer as she carefully folds the wrapper, using her tongue to dig the crevices of her mouth.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be, hubby?” She offers a seductive smirk, then unbuckles her seatbelt to lean across to him. Sliding the folded plastic wrapper into his breast pocket, Jang Won presses her cherry lips onto his, earning incessant flashes and shouts from outside the car.

“Mm, I can still taste the wine and the tad bit of salt you got left from lunch with your Mommy and Daddy.”

Juyeon frowns, gritting his teeth as she pulls away and exits the car on her side. The shouts and questions directed at her are muffled when she slams the car shut, her bodyguards from the mansion rushing down the steps to create a pathway for her.

The car finally drives off, and Juyeon can’t help but to sneer in disgust at the cherry shade left on his lips. The grimace on his face nearly earns a snigger from his driver.

“What? Funny?”

“On the contrary, sir,” He eyes Juyeon through the rear mirror. “I think she’s rather charming.”

Juyeon nearly chokes on his saliva, pulling out a napkin from one of the seat’s back pockets. “‘Charming’ my ass. She’s a dangerous woman and I’m just keeping myself alive.”

BREAKING: LEE JUYEON AND KIM JANG WON TO BE PRESENT AT THE BOARD’S PRESS CONFERENCE AT 4PM LATER THIS AFTERNOON

Mr Ro has the most disapproving look on his face as Jang Won pridefully pushes her way into the entrance hall, heels clacking against the marble and smiling widely at her butler. But of course, her brother shows up from the hallway, clearly dissatisfied.

“What the Hell’s wrong with you? You can’t run off like that and lying to the media!”

“Oh, please. This is nothing. Hey! Can I get my wardrobe and hairstylist down soon? I want to look nothing less of Kylie Jenner at her mother’s funeral at my own press conference!”

“It is exactly because I know you’re just getting started that I think you should stop,” Younghoon quickens his steps, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “You are not only pulling our family into this - you are pulling the Lee family into this.”

“Well, hey! I wasn’t the one who put their son up for sale when the offer came along!”

“But Lee Juyeon didn’t even want to be a part of this! He had no choice because his parents made it for him!”

“And did I?!” Jang Won’s near-shriek echoes through the halls. Mr Ro winces, gently shutting his eyes to regulate the surprise. “You say that of him as if I had a choice. I didn’t want dad to die. I didn’t want to take HERA & ARTEMIS. You think I wanted to spend all those nights and days and shitty bar hangouts with rich people trying to get them to sponsor and invest in HERA & ARTEMIS? Hell, no!”

She tears her wrist out from Younghoon’s grasp, shoving him back by pushing against his left shoulder. “Maybe you don’t know how shitty it feels because all you had to do was wait for HERA & ARTEMIS to become successful enough before you could build your stupid entertainment company. But right now, I’m fighting for what I created; for what I made, and I will tell you right here and right now that I am not stopping until I get what I fucking own so you better... and I really, really, really hope you make the right decision when I say you better pick a side.”

Her brother remains frozen in some kind of resignation as she closes the gap toward him. “Just because we share the same last name, doesn’t mean I will spare you, Kim Younghoon. You want the luxury of a choice? I’ll give one to you right now, so you better make the right one.”

Jang Won turns on her heels and strides past Mr Ro to the stairs, walking up to the second floor where she would spend the next 3 hours getting pampered and fitted for her press conference as the new bride of Lee Juyeon.

The smile Lee Juyeon has on his face looked like it was programmed; sculpted onto a stone statue; frozen in time. His father almost cannot look at it - even through the television screen, he knows it’s fake. He knows Juyeon hates it.

But Hera’s Princess couldn’t care less. Why would she? She’s getting what she wanted, or at least, part of it. Now that she’s got Lee Juyeon playing the game by her rules, she’s one step nearer to her goal, and that’s to win back HERA & ARTEMIS from her own father.

The jewel sitting on her left ring finger shone brightly with every flash a certain camera in the room went off. The Blue Nile Round Diamond 30-carat ring could blind someone if she deliberately shone its reflection into someone’s eyes.

“Today, The Board invites the next director of Apple-Korea and his newly announced fiancé, also known as Hera’s Princess and current owner of HERA & ARTEMIS to our monthly press conference of May. We warmly welcome Lee Juyeon and Kim Jang Won.”

The reporters and journalists provide a rather generous round of applause as Juyeon steps up the platform and takes his seat, Jang Won on his left with the brightest, sweetest smile he’s seen on her in the last six hours.

“Thank you. We’re absolutely honoured to be here today, my fiancé and I. Today, we announce our upcoming plans up till the end of the year, assuming my father still grants me some kind of authority to HERA & ARTEMIS,” She scoffs the last part of her sentence away, earning some scattered chuckles from the crowd. It irks Juyeon, the way he knows she’s being sarcastic and her words are filled with nothing but the poison of hatred and yet these people can’t hear it for the love of God.

Sympathy, he feels. For a short, fleeting moment, he feels sad for her.

“But otherwise, my father and I have agreed on a major reform of HERA & ARTEMIS.”

Juyeon’s eyes light up, not from enthusiasm, but anxious anticipation.

“Before my father is to take full ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS by June, firstly, we will have our wedding in April,” Coyly grabbing Juyeon’s hands and showing them off to the audience, rings around their fingers. “And secondly, after my fiancé advances to director, Apple-Korea will buy 50% of HERA & ARTEMIS.”

The effort Juyeon was investing into hiding his shock, confusion and frustration in his chest was of immense, ground-breaking magnitude. His grip around her hand tightens, and she tightens her jaw, forcing out a smile when the reporters and journalists break out into murmurs and surprised exchanges.

“My brother, Kim Younghoon, will assume full ownership of Artemis as a separate entertainment company, no longer attached to HERA & ARTEMIS. Artemis will become a collaborator or partner, no longer a subsidiary.”

The panel of officials from The Board looked extremely restless from the corner of Juyeon’s eyes, and he finds trouble in deciding which to offer more attention to: the fact that one single person was intelligent enough to send the entire world of The Board into chaos, or the fact that she was already making use of him even before he assumed the role of director.

Her fingers are now interlocked with his, resting on the table as the camera flashes go off, illuminating the room every other second.

THE BOARD’S MAY PRESS CONFERENCE:

LEE-KIM WEDDING IN APRIL, LEE JUYEON TO ASSUME DIRECTOR OF APPLE-KOREA IN MAY AND BUY 50% OF HERA & ARTEMIS, KIM JO-PIL TO ASSUME OWNERSHIP OF THE OTHER 50% IN JUNE, KIM YOUNGHOON TO ASSUME FULL OWNERSHIP OF ARTEMIS AFTER DETACHMENT, “ARTEMIS TO BECOME PARTNER OR COLLABORATOR”, KIM JANG WON SAYS

Younghoon’s inhales sharply, standing and frowning at the television screen after finally being unable to contain his shock. The reflection off the pool outside his living room paints inconsistent waves on his ceiling, the sound of pool water wading being the only thing he can hear besides the commotion from the broadcasted press conference.

Scoffing aggressively, he covers his mouth and drags his fingers down to his chin, pulling on his skin and pursing his lips into a thin, white line.

“Father, you have made the grave mistake of underestimating your daughter,” Younghoon smiles, then grins widely, somehow proud. “Her father’s daughter after all.”

Jang Won’s smile beams throughout the room, and for a split second Juyeon is mesmerized by it. Her eyes have been planted with the horrors of nightmares and terrible myths combined and yet there was something about that smile that made him think ‘Maybe being your fiance wouldn’t be too bad’.

“Before we open up the floor to the invited reporters and journalists, would Mr Lee like to say anything?” One of the officials from The Board finally gets up, hiding his confusion and anxiety behind his polite, service smile.

Lee Juyeon sits up straight in his seat, thumb gently massaging hers as he resumes the act. Jang Won’s service smile remains coded into her lips, eyes loving as she turns to him.

The whole world is watching, Juyeon. He thinks. The whole world is watching you put up this act, being in love with Hera’s Princess - arguably the most cunning name tied to The Board. Choose her and she’ll give you what you want. Choose otherwise and who knows what will happen?

“Mr Lee?”

“I think my fiancé has said everything that’s on my mind, haven’t you, love?” Juyeon smiles sweetly, eyes folding into long, thin lines. The curl of her lips are of triumph when she knows he’s bought into what she offered him; what she promised him. She cannot do this without him and he knows this, but what better way than to assert his authority than to pair up with the most powerful female in this shitty world?

Kim Younghoon’s eyes widen, fingers digging deep into the material of the cushion on his sofa as he watches Juyeon remove his hands from Jang Won’s, instead cupping her cheeks and bringing her face to his.

Mr Ro strides past the first guestroom, hearing the sound of the news playing on the television in the room. He looks through the gap of the door that was left ajar, cautiously watching Kim Jo-Pil nervously swirling a glass of whiskey in his hands as the next director of Apple-Korea tilts his head, on screen.

“Play along, would you?” He whispers, and Jang Won’s pride surges when he presses his lips into hers. The floor of reporters and journalists erupt into questions and cameras go off like Donald Trump had just been shot dead.

Kim Jo-Pil freezes, watching the whole press conference room light up with fluorescent flashes. But Mr Ro can’t help the jolt when Kim Jo-Pil deliberately flings the glass into the floor, pieces flying across the wooden flooring.

“She’s her father’s daughter after all, sire.”

#juyeon #lee juyeon #juyeon fanfic #juyeon scenario #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #the boyz juyeon fanfic #the boyz juyeon scenarios #tbz juyeon fanfic #tbz juyeon scenarios #love me a little less

53 notes · View notes

jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Duff (3)

jaebum au series

one / two / three / four masterlist

gifsource: @magiccastles

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now plot: you are the duff, and guys use you to get close to your bestfriend, turns out jaebum was no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your bestfriend’s unoffical boyfriend grows a/n: this is as much as a ride for me as it is for you lol. i just start writing and let words take me somewhere and then i just say i guess that’s it in the end. hope y’all enjoy it <3 not edited.

“Did you hear,” Naina crept up behind you, making you jump slightly. She laughed before shooting you a cheeky grin and continuing, “the Chairman’s son is joining the office today?”

“Really?” You turned to her, as you waited for the papers to copy behind you.

You weren’t that interested, all you wanted to do was get out of here and rest for a bit before starting on your assignment due next week. This internship was really time-consuming, but you couldn’t really complain because so many other students would kill to work at this firm.

“A hundred per cent. I know he’s rich and all that,” she waved her hands around hastily to show how none of that mattered. “But that is not what makes him attractive. He actually looks good. Apparently, he was a delinquent, and is just returning home after starting up a new business.”

“He’s still the boss’ son,” you scrunched your face in distaste. While the old man was a dilf, you hated nepotism, and people only giving opportunities to those who had ample of it.

“He was scouted,” Naina pouted defensively.

“How do you know?” You shot her a pointed look, as the machine stopping whirring.

“The process was done by the shareholders and the Society, and you know how much they hate Chairman. Apparently, they didn’t know it was him when they scouted him,” Naina shrugged as she loaded her papers. “They had to chase him for almost five months before he agreed to a trial period.”

“A trial period?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise. You couldn’t deny that whoever the Chairman’s son was sounded pretty impressive, maybe you were being too prejudice.

You bit your lip as you watched Naina for a while, “Well, let’s hope he actually is a hottie. Who told you all this by the way?”

Naina turned to you with an apologetic look, “Pam.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, walking away. Pam was notorious for her horrible taste in men.

“Hey y/n,” a head popped over your cubicle, making you look up tiredly. Your eyes wandered to the clock, one more hour left. “You’re needed in the conference room.”

“Note-taking?” You asked, getting up. The guy just shrugged before walking off.

You knocked on the door before entering the conference room, to find all the shareholders and the Chairman sitting around a table. You found Nina signalling you to come over.

“I bought my note-taking things,” you told Nina as you sat down beside her. You scanned the room to find impatient old men mumbling quietly to each other. “What’s going on?”

“They’re waiting for the new Director to show up,” Nina replied, her voice low as she leaned in. “He’s forty-five minutes late already.”

You shot her a surprised look before frowning, “It doesn’t look like anything much is happening here. Why was I called in?”

Nina just shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know, Connor called for you, but he looks preoccupied.”

You looked over to your supervisor who was on the phone, a pained expression on his face evident on his face. You watched as he shut his phone before walking in hurried and long strides.

“I have to apologise, gentlemen,” Connor stopped at the front of the table, his actions anxious, but his voice steady. “But looks like the new Director, unfortunately, cannot meet us today, an emergency has occurred. He does send his apologies.”

The men, who you would have expected to be fuming, just nodded with understanding.

You were confused.

Instead of the shareholders, it was the Chairman who seemed to be fuming.

Before anyone could say anything else, he got up and walked out of the room. The others didn’t say anything or object, they just broke into little groups conversing. The meeting was over without achieving the goal but without any conflict.

“I guess it’s over,” Nina got up, brushing her skirt straight. You followed her actions, your eyes catching the clock.

“There are only twenty minutes left,” you peered at her with a pleading look. “May I have an early leave?”

Her eyes darted to Connor who was engaged in a very serious conversation and then back at your pleading face. “Okay, but if anyone asks, you had an emergency.”

“Yeah, I guess emergencies are easily accepted in this company these days,” you joked, making Nina spank your arm playfully.

It didn’t take you long to gather your things and get out of the building. You had been working here for just over two months, but you could navigate the building with your eyes closed. Your gaze was on your phone, checking for any updates from your team members for the upcoming project. Disappointment filled you once again when you saw endless bubbles of excuses dotting the group chat.

You sighed, reaching for the button to call the elevator when your fingers touched another.

“Oh my gosh,” you pulled your hand back on reflex, as you looked up. “I’m sorry.”

But as soon as your eyes met those glowing brown ones, you wished you could reel back the apology that fell from your lips. Your face turned into a sneer as you glared at him, “What are you doing here?”

Jaebum smirked at you in his signature cocky way. You hated how it made your core tingle, but at the same time made your blood boil. But the anger didn’t always mean to come out in violence. It begged to out in some ways so deviant, that you’d rather punch his arrogant smirk off than do things that to him that your mind imagined.

“You're stalking me now?” You folded your arms as you snorted at him. “Or did you get in trouble and need help now?”

“This is a financial firm, love,” Jaebum smiled at you, his arrogance taking over his entire being.

“Committed fraud then.” You bit back, thanking the elevator doors as they opened. You quickly walked in and pressed the closed button as Jaebum’s eyes watched at you. “Catch the next one, love.”

The doors were almost shut when he jammed his arm in the way. You winced as the doors clamped against him before opening slowly. You quickly masked your concern with annoyance as he strutted in holding his forearm.

You wanted to say something but bit your tongue as you rolled your eyes. In the end, you couldn’t hold yourself back, “You could’ve just waited for the next one.”

Jaebum smiled at you, knowingly. You hated it when he did that. He smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling with humour as if he could see through you, and knew exactly what was going on in your head.

“I guess I’m a fool then.”

Your sharp eyes met his soft ones. You held them for a moment, your eyes blazing as you tried to figure out what he was doing. You knew why he said that.

He wasn’t a complete idiot then if he actually realised what you meant. He was a fool. He still is a fool. But him admitting it doesn’t undo what he had done. That he had chosen Heather over you, that he had screwed Heather.

You didn’t know what he was doing, what his game was. Did he have a sick fetish of doing friends? And then try to convince them into a threesome?

Your face must’ve revealed the disgust you were feeling because Jaebum laughed after a moment.

“What?” He smiled carefree leaning against the wall. You hated how unbelievably attractive he looked, even under these hideous fluorescent lights, Im Jaebum managed to look like the sexiest guy to have ever walked on this Earth.

You realised his normal piercings were missing. You watched as his tongue darted out from his pink lips, going to the familiar place where the lip ring would normally rest. He touched the ghost of it, his lips quirked and he just licked his lips before lifting an eyebrow.

“Where are your accessories?” You asked, you hated how haughty you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jaebum somehow bought out the worst in you.

Jaebum grinned, biting his lips as if holding in a secretive laugh.

“I had to look professional, y/n.”

You groaned internally. You hated it more when he said your name so freaking sexily.

You wanted to hear him say it again and again. Say it with other dirty words that would leave his sinful lips as he thrust into you, as he pulled your hair. Say it as you took your time devouring his cock, whimper it as you made him beg for his release. You wanted to hear him moan it as he captured your lips in his, and pushed you against the wall.

Suddenly the elevator started to feel hot; the metal box becoming too small.

You quickly reached for the button, pressing it to open on the next floor.

You turned your back towards him, facing the doors.

You core tightened, as heat rose to your face.

You couldn’t stop imaging. You couldn’t stop thinking all the things that could happen in this stupid small little metal box. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the cool metal would feel against your back, against your bare breast as he pushed you against them while he pounded into you from behind.

Oh god. You needed to get out. Now. You furiously pressed the button a few more times, before standing right.

And then the lights flickered, the machines groaned. The lights blinked off, and the elevator stopped.

This was a literal nightmare. This wasn’t real.

You had to be dreaming for sure. This was all a dream, had to be one.

“Y/n!” You heard Jaebum’s panicked voice. You found feel him swimming through the darkness, his arms flailing around trying to find you.

“I’m here,” you called, walking next to him.

You were worried, but it was nothing compared to the shaking body you collided into.

“Jaebum?” You grabbed his cold hands in yours. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel him move.

“Okay,” you softly told him. “It’s okay, let's move backwards, okay? Until we hit the wall?”

He didn’t answer, but a disturbed meek left him, and you took that as a yes. Once your backs hit the wall, you began sliding down, bringing him down next to you.

Jaebum sat so close, his entire side was pressed against yours. He didn’t move away, but neither did you. You didn’t take your hand away from Jaebum gripped it as if his life depended on it.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone. You turned on the flashlight and turned it towards Jaebum. He grunted, bringing a hand up to shield himself from the harsh light.

“Sorry,” you murmured, turning it to face the front. The light bounced off the shiny walls bringing in some light. “Are you better now?”

Jaebum nodded, and this time you could see.

“I need to press the emergency button,” you told him looking over at him. He just nodded, his eyes focusing on something, but his hands still grasping yours.

You slowly got up, still not talking your hand from his as you pressed the button. You had the ring for a few seconds, and then someone picked up.

“Hello?” you called, “We’re stuck in elevator 3.”

“We’re working on it,” the gruff voice replayed. “It won’t take long. How many are in the elevatory?”

“Just two people.”

“A'ight, wait a minute.” And then the line went dead and remained that way for almost twenty minutes.

“What’s taking those shitheads so fucking long?” Jaebum finally spoke breaking the silence that fell between you two. His hand still clutching yours. “You would expect a place like this to at least have a backup or faster services. But I guess not. Just a shithole company in this stupid place.”

He was talking nonsense. His words losing meaning as more angry and panicked words left him.

You gave his hand a little squeeze, and he stopped.

Jaebum turned to look at you, and you gave him a small smile.

His eyes that normally glistened with playfulness were glazed with fear and anxiety as he peered at you. He tried to give your smile back, but it came out as a nervous tightlipped look of panic.

“So, Im Jaebum,” you snorted lightly. Jaebum watched at you, his nervous eyes on you as if you were the only thing keeping him calm. And you were ready to bet that you were. “What’s your favourite season?”

“Really?” He snorted, the tiniest hint of his normal arrogance returning to his voice. “That’s what you want to talk about before we die?”

You bit back your laugh and shot him a glare.

“Summer,” he answered gruffly.

You nodded, humming “Summer.”

“You are someone who enjoys being happy.” Jaebum rolled his eyes at that. “You seek happiness, you like thinking back to good memories instead of bad ones. You don’t have many regrets and the ones you have don’t last for long because you rectify them as soon as you realise. You like being shown love, affection; the more you receive it, the more you thrive. You cherish friendship and loyalty above all, but not really because of the person. The person can change, but the memories you share with them is what keeps your loyalty going.”

Jaebum just snorted as he ran his free hand through his hair. The soft strands falling in all directions as he snickered at you, “Where’d you steal that from? Buzzfeed quizzes?”

“Hey!” You hit his arm in spite, a pout on your lips with full offence. “I came up with that myself! I have one for all seasons.”

Jaebum just laughed, and you tried your best to suppress the smile on your lips.

“What about the rest,” Jaebum asked after a long moment, “How would you describe the rest?”

“What you like is what you get,” you shrugged smugly.

“So what are you?” He asked, his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m Autumn,” your cheeks heated under his gaze. You prayed your blush was covered in the darkness. You gulped nervously when you felt him not look away. “And Heather! She’s a summer too.”

Jaebum hummed in reply, finally looking away.

“Okay, what’s your favourite number?” Jaebum asked.

“Two.”

“No! Don’t tell me! Do it again,” he groaned, making you chuckle at his silliness. You nodded, thinking of a number. “Okay now add two to it.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling like a complete idiot at how adorable he was being. You knew exactly what he was doing, but you didn’t have it in you to stop him when he sounded so eager.

“Okay, now minus it by the number you first thought of,” he told you watching you with a grin. You nodded, telling him you were done. “Add five, minus two.

“The number you are left with is,” he grinned at you, and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling seeing his happiness. “Five!”

“Oh my god!” You faked, the smile not going anywhere. “How did you know?!”

“Magic,” he shrugged, smiling so proudly. But that smile didn’t last long as the elevator groaned and you felt it fall a bit. “Fuck.”

His hand was squeezing yours so tightly you were sure it will cut off your blood circulation, but you didn’t stop him. You held his hand back and watched him as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the metal with a groan.

“Hey, Jaebum,” you called, making his shifty eyes look to you. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine-”

“My ass, fine,” he cut you off with panic. “We’re going to die here.”

“Come on,” you rolled your eyes, about to tell him he was overreacting when the elevator jerked down again. You yelped as you clung onto Jaebum, who wrapped his free arm around you tightly.

“I don’t want to die like this,” Jaebum moaned, his voice breaking. You closed your eyes as you gripped his jacket tighter. “There’s so much I want to do. I want to skydive.”

“You’ve already done that,” you told him, your eyes still shut tight.

“Oh right, I have,” he breathed. “Okay, then I guess I want to take you out on a date.”

“Jaebum,” you warned him, your voice low and tight. “We’re about to die, and you want to go down joking?”

“Well, you want to go down growling me,” he replied, his words hurried. “I’m not joking though, I want to. I really want to.”

“Why?” You almost yelled as the elevator dropped again.

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” Jaebum chanted, his panic rising. You could feel his heat race underneath his jacket. You were sure yours was pounding just as hard and as fast as his. “I mean it. I really really want to. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I saw you.”

“You are with Heather-AH!” The elevator dropped again, and tears filled your eyes.

“Okay. Okay. Okay,” you breathed, as you tried to calm yourself as tears burned your eyes. “If we’re being honest, I guess I do want to fuck you. But I wouldn’t want my last wish to be that-”

“Wait- what?” Jaebum broke you off, hope and surprise cutting through his nerves and panic. “You want to fuck me?”

You just nodded, about to tell him that it was just a last-minute shameful confession. It didn’t mean anything. You just wanted at least his last memories to be one that his arrogant self would enjoy, no matter how true they were.

The truth never hurt anyone anyways.

“I want to fuck you too.” Jaebum cried, holding you tighter, as the elevator went down again. “But I want to kiss you too, and take you out on a date.”

“What’s with you and dates?!” You cried back.

“I don’t know, but it’s just you,” Jaebum replied, his voice shaking. “You drive me crazy.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to admit that he drove you crazy too. Even though he was with your best friend, even when he chose Heather over you, you wanted him so much it physically hurt you.

“When I was little I told my dad to die,” you said softly, as tears fell from your eyes. “I didn’t mean it, dad. I’m sorry. I love you. Oh god, please keep my family safe and keep everyone happy.”

“You’re scaring me!” Jaebum cried.

“Don’t you want the last wish?”

“I already told you!”

“Are you for real?!”

“Yes! Deadly!” Jaebum answered, heated. “I want to take you out on a date! Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well we can’t go on a date now, can we?” You answered, your voice edged with anger.

“What about my other wish?”

“You want to fuck me?! Right now?!”

“No!” Jaebum cried as the elevator fell. “A kiss; a goodbye kiss I guess now.”

You stilled. You could do that. You could do as much.

The intervals between each fall lessening and you were sure soon you’d be plummeting down the levels to your death in a mere few seconds.

“Okay,” you breathed, and Jaebum stilled. “One kiss.”

Jaebum moved away from you and looked at your face.

“I-” he choked, his throat bobbing, as he nervously gulped. His eyes shaking from fear of the looming death, but also from fear of this moment. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything- I can change my last wish.”

“I want to.” You told him, your gazing dropping to his lips. You nodded, “I want to.”

Jaebum swallowed nervously as he brought his shaking hands to your face. Your hands held onto his wrist as his fingers gently brushed your skin. You gazed into his eyes, and even in the darkness, you could see them sparkle in golden wonder.

His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation as he slowly bought his lips down to yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his warm sweet breath fall onto your lips. You weren’t sure if it was the foreboding death or his sweet gentle touch and closeness that were reasons for the butterflies in your stomach, but you had a good suspicion it was the latter.

Jaebum’s soft lips lightly touched yours, so carefully, so softly as if you’d break away into a million whispers if he was too hard. Your fingers wrapped into his palms as you pressed your lips against his.

You felt his lips open, about to capture yours in a soft sweet gentle kiss when a loud crash followed by a loud voice interrupted your dizzying mind.

You jerked away from him as blinding light fell into the elevator, and a shadow appeared as the doors opened.

“You’re alive!” The gruff voice yelled. “Are you alright?”

You remained shocked for a moment, before blinking back to your senses, “Yes!” Yes!”

“Alright, hold on a minute.”

It took ten more minutes to get the door opened and a ladder down to help you out.

You didn’t look at Jaebum.

You ignored the cold burning on your hand that Jaebum had been holding. You ignored the tingling of your lips, and the butterflies in your tummy, every time you thought of that whisper of a kiss.

You didn’t look at him when he climbed out behind you.

You watched the others and saw their faces pale when they saw him brush his jacket straight.

“Sir!” The gruff voice cried, almost bowing. You looked around saw all of them shake with fear. “I-”

The man couldn’t complete his sentence, as he shook in fear, his eyes low.

You turned back to Jaebum confused, “What’s the fuss?”

“Y/n!” You heard Naina call, before grabbing your elbow and pulling you away. You shot her a confused look, making her give you a horrified one in return. She pointed to the screen on the wall, and there you saw him.

Im Jaebum flashing on the screen, Director of Mediana Firm.

You turned back to Jaebum who gave you a cheeky wink. Your mouth fell open as Naina dragged you away.

“No way.” You muttered.

“Exactly! No way you got trapped with the new hot Director!” Naina cheered, her cheeks blushing for you. She giggled as you blinked processing everything.

“God,” you finally spoke, “I guess Pam wasn’t wrong this time.”

263 notes · View notes

likelightningafterthethunder · 3 years

Text

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter One: Damned Smile

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

Even years later, that damn smile haunted his dreams.

There was absolutely no reason for him to still think about the event. Everything had been taken care of when it had happened― injuries were treated, authorities alerted, information secured, and a press conference to tie it all up in a big red bow. There were no loose ends, no surprise second coming, no physical reminders of what happened lingering in his daily life. Katsuki would have labeled it as done, dealt with, and no longer relevant, shoving it aside in his memory so he could focus on actual important shit.

Except his mind had different plans.

When he was lucky, he could completely forget about the event for months. Other times, his dreams would be filled with nothing but that damn smile, taunting him with its silence. He could usually predict when the dreams would come― the anniversary of the event for example― but other times, it seemed like anything could trigger the memory. He once saw a bright yellow balloon and for the rest of the day, every time he closed his eyes he saw that damned smile, never wavering despite the curses and insults Katsuki spewed.

He wanted to forget it. He wanted so desperately to forget it. For the image to erase itself from his mind, for it to take the feelings away with it. He could deal with the anger, he could always deal with the anger, but when his memory reminded him of the wave of hurt and betrayal that nearly blinded him…

When his alarm jolted him from his sleep and freed him from the smile, he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. He woke up drenched in a cold sweat, sheets singed and smoking lightly as he unclenched his hands, and Katsuki was, for once, very relieved that not all of his sweat was explosive. He slapped the singes a few times to ensure that all of the embers were put out before heading for the bathroom, cursing under his breath as he flinched at his own reflection in the mirror.

There was nothing particularly wrong with his appearance, if you didn’t count the dark circles under his eyes from a fitful night’s sleep or his clammy skin, but after being plagued by the smile, Katsuki could barely look at himself. His reaction to the smile made him feel weak, like he couldn’t handle himself and that there was something wrong with him. It was just a smile after all. There was no reason for him to react to it like a nightmare, no reason for him to lose sleep over it or to feel overwhelmed by emotions at the thought of it.

Yet when he saw the smile and saw how the corners of his mouth were tugged a bit too tight, how his eyes were open a bit too wide, how the only shine in his eyes were the reflections of light on tears that refused to fall…

Katsuki cursed.

The icy cold shower did little to help distract him from the memory, nor did his morning run nor the steaming shower he took after. He wasn’t supposed to head into the agency today, so he didn’t have any planned beatdowns for today, and yes he probably shouldn’t be hoping for it, but part of him hoped for a sudden emergency villain so he could distract himself by focusing on beating some villain’s ass into next week.

A few hours later when his phone refused to stop buzzing, Katsuki wondered if throwing his phone across the room until it stopped would be close enough to beating villain ass to work. He reluctantly decided that talking to people so they’d leave him alone was probably less hassle to deal with than having to replace his phone and distribute his new number (even if it would give him an excuse to ghost some of these damn extras).

A few individual texts and a group text were the cause of the buzzing. As the group text’s new message count continued to rise, he figured it would be easier to respond to the individual texts first. Just in case he changed his mind about destroying the phone.

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): Hello Bakugou, this is a reminder about the upcoming Class A reunion. As the head of the reunion committee, it is my duty to ensure an accurate headcount for the event, and I have yet to receive your response about your attendance. Please ensure to respond via the following link by this Friday at 11:59PM. [Class A 10 Year Reunion RSVP]

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): In case you missed the previous messages regarding the reunion, the event is March 28th starting at 7PM at the Shinjuku Hotel in Musutafu. If you need to rent a room for the night or the weekend, please alert the Shinjuku Hotel staff that you are part of the Class A reunion party by next Wednesday for an event discount.

Katsuki frowned. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the possibility of being surrounded by all of his former classmates and even less at the idea of being socially obligated to spend the entire evening with them. At least when he met up with his friends elsewhere, he could always claim needing to leave early so he could make the last train or that work needed him to come in early the next day.

He closed out of the conversation, figuring he still had a few more days to decide if he really wanted to deal with his classmates for an entire evening.

Midoriya: Hey Katsugou! I was wondering if you’re going to go to the reunion? Tenya said the deadline to RSVP is coming soon and we haven’t heard from you, so I just thought I’d check in!

Katsuki: The fuck is Katsugou?

Midoriya: Oh sorry!! Typo!!

Midoriya: Anyway, are you coming?

Katsuki closed out of the conversation and moved on to the next one.

Shitty Hair: Katsuki! Are you coming to the reunion or not dude????

Katsuki: Fuck off.

Shitty Hair: Aww dude that’s no way to talk to your best friend, you know you love me!!

Katsuki: I’m blocking you.

He did not, in fact, block him. But he did close out of Eijirou’s texts.

Save for the newest text sent directly from Eijirou, all that was left was the backlog of texts in the group text. It had kept going off while he was reading the other conversations, so Katsuki figured it meant that everyone was either off for the day or on their lunch break.

Raccoon Eyes: guys!!!!! the reunion is COMING UPPPPPP!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: i cant wait to s

Raccoon Eyes: ee all of u guys again!!

Tape Face: lmao you saw us last week

Raccoon Eyes: yes

Raccoon Eyes: an eteRNITY ago

Raccoon Eyes: and like

Raccoon Eyes: kats left early so we didnt have everyone

Raccoon Eyes: so it doesnt count

Shitty Hair: Yeah Katsuki don’t leave early next time!!

Raccoon Eyes: we just have to hold him hostage next time

Raccoon Eyes: or like

Raccoon Eyes: AMBUSH him

Tape Face: i can always tape him up

Raccoon Eyes: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

Raccoon Eyes: tape him to the wall

Raccoon Eyes: and then like

Raccoon Eyes: steal his wallet

Raccoon Eyes: cant get on transit w no moneys

Raccoon Eyes: ei and han hold him down

Raccoon Eyes: i run to hide his wallet where he cant fi

Raccoon Eyes: nd it

Raccoon Eyes: probs keeps kats tapped to the wall all night

Raccoon Eyes: free up his arms so he can have a drink????

Tape Face: explosion palms dude

Raccoon Eyes: oh u right

Raccoon Eyes: he can just have a cup w like

Raccoon Eyes: a REALLY REALLY long straw

Raccoon Eyes: make sure u tape him up w his hands behind his back

Tape Face: you got it

Shitty Hair: He’s in this chat guys he’s going to see the plan

Raccoon Eyes: whatevs we can still totally blindside him

Raccoon Eyes: ANYWAYS

Raccoon Eyes: ure all going right?????

Tape Face: ya I rsvpd a while back

Shitty Hair: Yep!! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!

Raccoon Eyes: what about u kats

Raccoon Eyes: kats???

Raccoon Eyes: KAAAAAAAAAAAAATS

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: a

Shitty Hair: I’ll text him separately

Raccoon Eyes: t

Tape Face: he probably has this muted lmao

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: !!!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: how dare u ignore us

Raccoon Eyes: after everything weve done for u!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: thought we were ur ride or die hoes

Raccoon Eyes: dont tell me ur not going!!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: im so offended

Raccoon Eyes: how could u do this to us kats

Shitty Hair: Maybe he’s at work today?

Raccoon Eyes: boo

Raccoon Eyes: how dare he prioritize wo

Raccoon Eyes: rk over us

Raccoon Eyes: his best friends

Raccoon Eyes: the suns of his life

Raccoon Eyes: the bit of happiness in the cold

Raccoon Eyes: cold

Tape Face: coooooooooold

Raccoon Eyes: COOOOOOOOLD

Raccoon Eyes: thing he calls a heart

Shitty Hair: Lmao

Tape Face: its got a bit of warmth

Tape Face: most of it is his temper

Raccoon Eyes: boom boom POW

Raccoon Eyes: well while we wait for kats

Raccoon Eyes: help me pick some photos for the slideshow!!

Tape Face: are you doing only UA pics or some stuff since then

Tape Face: somehow iida managed to not specify lmao

Shitty Hair: The info email was like ten pages, how did he miss it

Tape Face: idk

Raccoon Eyes: ive got plenty for both!!

Raccoon Eyes: momo said pref UA pics but some new stuff is good too

Raccoon Eyes: show how far weve come n all that

Tape Face: oh cool let me get some opinions then too

Shitty Hair: Anyone have any pics of the camping trip from second year?

Raccoon Eyes: before or after todoroki and kats’ fight turned it into a icy hot springs

Shitty Hair: Both lmao but probably before it went to hell

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: ofc ive got us chillin in the springs

Raccoon Eyes: well most of us

Raccoon Eyes: kats u never get in the water w us :C

Raccoon Eyes: lets go to the beach next time!!

Tape Face: hed prob boil the water w you in it if you dragged him in lmao

Tape Face: spicy acid time

Raccoon Eyes: id like to see him TRY

Shitty Hair: Don’t tempt him lmao

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: i got like a shit ton more

Raccoon Eyes: should i send some of THE FIGHT

Shitty Hair: Maybe not

Tape Face: yes

Tape Face: well

Tape Face: depends on how many pissed off katsuki pics youre putting in lmao

Raccoon Eyes: OH

Raccoon Eyes: OHHHH

Raccoon Eyes: OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tape Face: ?

Raccoon Eyes: dude

Raccoon Eyes: do u have the POMERANIAN pic

Tape Face: o shit

Tape Face: image.png

Shitty Hair: I still think Katsuki should’ve taken that pup home

Shitty Hair: They’re matching!

Tape Face: image.png

Tape Face: i also have this one

Tape Face: when she tried to bite his nose off lmao

Raccoon Eyes: kats couldve named her king explosion murder

Raccoon Eyes: or just murder

Raccoon Eyes: p sure she wouldve tried to murder kats at least o

Raccoon Eyes: nce

Tape Face: lmao she basically tried when he found her

Shitty Hair: Maybe it’s for the best that he didn’t keep the pup

Tape Face: look what i found

Tape Face: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: AWWWW YES

Raccoon Eyes: LOOK AT USSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: we look FABBBB

Shitty Hair: Is that from the dance?

Tape Face: ye

Raccoon Eyes: guys what if we recreate that pic at the reunion

Raccoon Eyes: the fits?

Raccoon Eyes: immaculate

Raccoon Eyes: the pose?

Raccoon Eyes: perfection

Tape Face: hotel?

Tape Face: trivago

Shitty Hair: I’m down for recreating some pics!

Raccoon Eyes: yessssss

Raccoon Eyes: u have no choice either kats u gotta do it

Raccoon Eyes: wherever u are

Shitty Hair: Oh he replied!!

Raccoon Eyes: SWEET

Raccoon Eyes: what he say

Shitty Hair: He said fuck off

Tape Face: as expected

Shitty Hair: Lmao he threatened to block me again

Tape Face: thought he said he was blocking you last week

Shitty Hair: Yea exactly

Raccoon Eyes: HOW RUDE

Raccoon Eyes: as punishment for not paying attention to us

Raccoon Eyes: im gonna send this

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Tape Face: LMAO whend you make that

Shitty Hair: Is that Katsuki with a cat face and ears

Shitty Hair: Dude I don’t know if he’s going to kill you for that or for the pink hair first lmao

Raccoon Eyes: lmao made it just now

Raccoon Eyes: well MAYBE if he ANSWERED us

Katsuki: Delete it.

Tape Face: O SHIT

Tape Face: you summoned him

Raccoon Eyes: NO I WILL NOT

Katsuki: Delete it Raccoon Eyes or else I’m coming for you.

Tape Face: are you coming for the left shoes and shittin in them

Raccoon Eyes: NOOOOOOO not my shoes!!!!!!!!

Tape Face: its just the left shoes tho

Raccoon Eyes: BUT THATS MY FAVE SIDE

Katsuki: What the fuck are you two going on about?

Raccoon Eyes: DONT COME FOR M

Raccoon Eyes: Y LEFT SHOES KATS IM SORRY

Katsuki: I’m not coming for your fucking left shoes. Or any of your shoes.

Katsuki: I will be coming for you if you don’t delete that picture, though.

Raccoon Eyes: FORGIVENESS

Raccoon Eyes: I BEG

Raccoon Eyes: PLSSSSS

Katsuki: Delete the picture.

Raccoon Eyes: ugh fiiiiiiiiiine

Raccoon Eyes: its deleted

Raccoon Eyes: i wont send it to momo for the slide show

Katsuki: Good.

Raccoon Eyes: IF U COME TO THE REUNION

Katsuki: Fuck off.

Shitty Hair: C’mon Katsuki!! It’ll be fun!!

Tape Face: ya it wouldnt do if we didnt have our exploding star

Raccoon Eyes: ill send momo WORSE if u dont come

Raccoon Eyes: nd u wont know WHAT til AFTER

Raccoon Eyes: so PLSSSSSSSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: PRETTY PLSSSSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: PLS COME TO THE REUNION

Raccoon Eyes: ill spam u a lot worse if u dont show us proof of rsvp

Raccoon Eyes: pls kaaaaaaaaats

Raccoon Eyes: kaaaaaaaaats

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: a

Katsuki: Ugh fucking fine, I’ll do the RSVP now then.

Raccoon Eyes: t

Raccoon Eyes: YAY

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): Good afternoon, Bakugou! I just wanted to confirm with you that I have received your RSVP for the Class A reunion. As a reminder, if you need to rent a room for the night or the weekend, please alert the Shinjuku Hotel staff that you are part of the Class A reunion party by next Wednesday for an event discount.

Katsuki: image.png

Katsuki: Four Eyes is watching the RSVP form like a fucking hawk apparently.

Raccoon Eyes: YAAAAAY URE RSVPD!!!

Shitty Hair: You know him, always dedicated to his work

Tape Face: sweet

Raccoon Eyes: are u guys getting rooms

Tape Face: yea musutafus too far for a round trip

Tape Face: esp since itll prob end late

Shitty Hair: I got one for the weekend!

Tape Face: wbu mina

Raccoon Eyes: booked a room already!!

Raccoon Eyes: kaaaaats wbu

Raccoon Eyes: u should

Raccoon Eyes: we could have a brunch or lunch or s/t thats just us

Raccoon Eyes: plsssssss kats

Katsuki: I’ll think about it.

Tape Face: better than a no lmao

Shitty Hair: If they run out of space or if you decide last second, you can room with me dude

Raccoon Eyes: awww why not a yes

Katsuki: I haven’t asked the other Four Eyes for the time off yet.

Tape Face: is this four eyes no4 or no15

Raccoon Eyes: four eyes no69

Raccoon Eyes: no wait

Raccoon Eyes: no420

Tape Face: haha blaze it

Raccoon Eyes: BLAZE IT

Shitty Hair: It’s number 7

Katsuki: Fuck you, I don’t have that many Four Eyes saved in my phone.

Shitty Hair: I’d be surprised if you had 420 contacts period dude

Raccoon Eyes: would b hilarious tho

Katsuki: Yes, it’s Four Eyes number 7.

Shitty Hair: I was right!!

Katsuki: Why would I ask any of the other Four Eyes for time off? They’re not my fucking bosses.

Tape Face: dunno

Raccoon Eyes: idk maybe ure secretly dating one a

Raccoon Eyes: nd have to confirm that its ok

Raccoon Eyes: ARE U SECRETLY DATING A FOUR EYES

Raccoon Eyes: U HAVE TO TELL US IF U ARE

Raccoon Eyes: URE LEGALLY OBLIGATED

Tape Face: o shit

Tape Face: scandalous

Katsuki: Shut the fuck up, I’m not dating anyone, secret or not.

Raccoon Eyes: thats what they all say

Katsuki: Whatever. I’m not dating anyone.

Raccoon Eyes: kats n four eyes no420 sittin in a tree

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: i

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: i

Katsuki: I’ll blow up all of your left shoes when you’re not home.

Raccoon Eyes: n

Raccoon Eyes: NO

Raccoon Eyes: IM STOPPING DONT DO IT

Shitty Hair: Hey what do you guys think of this photo

Shitty Hair: image.png

Tape Face: dude yes

Raccoon Eyes: AWWWW OUR FIRST BILLBOARDS AS PROS

Katsuki: Do we really need to send them pictures? It’s not like we fucking forgot this stuff already.

Tape Face: you can be a killjoy if you want lmao

Tape Face: im sure mina will send more than enough to cover for you

Raccoon Eyes: U BETCHA

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Tape Face: lmao why do you have a pic of katsuki throwing ei

Shitty Hair: I still can’t believe you did that bro

Shitty Hair: WITHOUT WARNING TOO

Katsuki: I gave you plenty of fucking warning.

Shitty Hair: Saying “I’m throwing you” AS YOU’RE THROWING ME is NOT PLENTY OF WARNING DUDE

Raccoon Eyes: im always ready to document golden moments

Katsuki: Shut the fuck up. We won the training exercise so what’s it fucking matter?

Shitty Hair: YOU THREW ME!!

Katsuki: Tape Face caught you before you could get hurt.

Shitty Hair: YOU /THREW/ ME!!!!!!

Tape Face: barely caught

Katsuki: Whatever.

Raccoon Eyes: im still impressed by how eASY u made that look

Katsuki: What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Raccoon Eyes: o look conveniently timed distraction photo spam

Katsuki sighed as he continued the conversation, commenting here and there on the photos his friends sent for judgement. In retrospect, he probably should have tried to talk to Shion first, since there was a chance she would have denied the time off for the reunion. Although, knowing her, she would have accepted just to force Katsuki into socializing. He opened up a new text message, figuring that if Shion did decide to deny the time off, he would at least have a screenshot to send to his friends explaining the sudden change in plans.

Katsuki: I need March 28th and 29th off.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Do my eyes deceive me? The great Katsuki Bakugou, asking for time off?

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): I’m amazed! Usually I have to ask you to take the day off!

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Nay, not ask, but force!

Katsuki: Are you going to give it to me or not?

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Depends! What do you need the time off for?

Katsuki: Class reunion.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Oh those are fun!

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Fill out the proper time off paperwork and have it on my desk by Monday. I’ll approve the time off.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Just keep your phone on you in case we need you to come in for an emergency, but I’ll try not to ruin your reunion with work.

Katsuki: Thanks.

Well, so much for an easy way out.

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose when he noticed that his phone had already accumulated another thirty texts in the past few minutes, no doubt primarily from Mina. He scrolled through the backlog, sending a few mostly empty threats when he saw photos he did not want projected for the entire class to see, freezing when his gaze met a pair of familiar amber eyes.

Shit.

In his scramble to close out of the photo, to escape the genuine smile that somehow was more haunting than the one in his dreams, he left the group text completely. He briefly thanked his past self; he’d impulse or rage quit the group text plenty of times before that this wasn’t unusual behavior. If he was lucky, his friends wouldn’t have noticed the timing of his departure and would assume he was just fed up with the notifications or the conversation.

Shitty Hair: You okay, Katsuki?

A weak laugh escaped Katsuki’s lips as he read the newest notification. Of course Eijirou noticed.

Katsuki: I’m fine.

Shitty Hair: Okay

Shitty Hair: We don’t have to talk about it

Shitty Hair: But if you want to, I’m here dude

Shitty Hair: I’ll tell the others that you left so your phone would shut up and not to add you back yet

Katsuki: Thanks. Really.

Shitty Hair: No problem dude

Katsuki put his phone down, silently praying for the smile to leave him alone.

When he finally laid down for bed that night, he repeated the short prayer, for a peaceful night’s rest free of the smile, of the hurt, of the pain, of the guilt.

But as always, the smile came.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kaminari denki #bakukami #kamibaku #katsuki bakugou #denki kaminari #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #story #from the creator

8 notes · View notes

scandeniall · 4 years

Text

we’re us

pairing: atsumu x f!reader

summary/warnings: after atsumu almost lost you he decides ts time to make things official. But he’s overly sweet and its weird. Thats not who you two are / mentions of near death, implied sex, hes grossly sweet for part of it, mentions of bad parents

a/n: this is a PART 2 to the rulers. a few of you asked and i decided to give us a happier ending than what we wre left with in rulers. (rulers is 12k words and gives the context to this so kinda impt!)

wc: 2k

“Would you fucking stop,” you scowl swatting at the hands on your waist as you stumbled into the office. You roll your eyes at the way your desk chair is pulled out for you. “No can do. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Atsumu replies ignoring the frown at him sitting in the desktop. His hand subconsciously takes yours stroking at the skin and you resist the urge to take your hand from him. He needed it.

It’d been three months since the incident and since you’d gone into a coma. You stayed in it for a little over a week. Atsumu remembered how he numbly took in the doctors diagnosis. Something about a complication from the surgery or maybe it was blood loss from the bullet wounds? Something about a seizure thus prompting your state. All the medical terminology confused him.

After he finally decided to visit three days later he came as often as he could. He assigned people like Oikawa to do press releases on his behalf. It was already hard enough having to hear events recounted over the news. He couldn’t be the one to talk about it.

“President of Yokohama (Y/L/N), (Y/F/N) caught in apparent shootout with parents among others. The 23 year old was rushed to the hospital by non other that Vice President Miya Atsumu. As of now it is known that (Y/N) has fallen into a combs and that Miya will be taking over. The voting families are likely to vote over a course of action within the upcoming days.”

One thing Atsumu made sure to do was to get your recording. You risked your life to get a confession out of your parents. A confession that they had plans to kill you. He sent the recording off and following their own minor recoveries they were promptly arrested. Trials took long and there’d be no way an official one would happen until you were ready, but nonetheless he was happy that both them and Terushima were out of your hairs.

The day you woke up Atsumu actually shed tears. It was something he denied and claimed that the hospital fumes were finally getting to him when Osamu teased him. But everyone knew better. He’d take your condition worse, a factor that even your little sister teased him on. “(Y/N’s) strong and a bad ass. She’ll be fine. Stop acting like a wimp” he couldn’t even scold the 14 year old for the word choice.

Even though the first face you made was a grimace, followed by confusion and agitation he couldn’t help but think you were beautiful. He stayed in the room as they took the feeding tube out, gagging himself at how gross it all seemed. He held your hand as you took sips of water all disoriented.

A few days after that you were able to go back home and he took you to his. Your sister had been staying there and there was no way he’d let you go back to neither your parents or your own now trashed house alone. He’d wheeled you out of the hospital demanding you to keep your head down at the flashing lights and journalists. He’d buckled you in like a child despite you rolling your eyes and complaining and driven you to his.

He made sure you took all your medications and attended your personal physical therapy sessions. A month in when you wanted to go back to work fully he refused, citing that until you were fine he was the one in charge. He could and would disobey your orders to keep you safe. “I swear once I’m fine I’m going to fucking fire you.” “How do you fire the family head sweetheart? Try again.”

Now two months later you were heading back into your office for the first time. With non other than your shadow practically attached to your hip. You watched as he animatedly recounted some events from his latest press conference and boring financial meetings as his thumb subconsciously rubbed circles into onto the back of your hand. Your hand was slightly sweaty but you resisted the urge to pull away. Ever since you’d found out that you technically died, Atsumu had been more touchy than normal.

“Hey Tsumu?”

The call of his name stopped him mid sentence as his eyes peered at yours with concern. He started questioning if you were ok or in pain and if it here time for your meds.

“Thank you. For everything. Stepping up, I know this isn’t easy for you, especially since it was so sudden. And for watching after my sister and me.”

“Well it is my job as VP. Ya know when ya can’t do your job. It’s annoying but-“ he chucked as you stood up and told him to shut up. His hands found your waist both as a way to stabilize you and to resume physical contact as you eased in between his legs. “You talk too fucking much,” you mumble arms locking around his neck.

“I was trying to be serious and thank you and here you are making me regret it.” You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your lips as you talk. You continue playing with the ends of his hair as you talk. “I appreciate it a lot. Even if you are overbearing and annoying.”

“Yeah well, we’re us. And you know I’d take a bullet for ya”

“Too bad you didn’t take this one,” you muse using one hand to motion at your healing side. You smiled as his hands slipped under your sweatshirt to caress the scar.

“I wouldve.” He says the words without missing a beat while you frown. “Being sweet doesn’t suit you. Where’s asshole Atsumu.”

“I almost lost ya. I was the one who held ya in the backseat as you bled out. I had to get rid of the car. Couldn’t get the smell, stains or memories out. I was there when you flat lined (Y/N). Sorry if I cant act normal like the shit didn’t happen.”

“All the more reason to act like the man I fell in love with,” you shrug. “The non punctual asshole who doesn’t listen to half the shit i say. The smartass who cares for his friends and family more than he lets on. The one so committed to what he does that id never trust anyone else even a fraction as much. Life is short. Clearly,” you snort referencing your own situation.

“No point in being different. What’s done is done. Besides, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. With the trial and reformations and-“

“Ya just said you loved me.” Your face scrunched up at his smug one. His voice had a happy lilt to it. “If you didn’t know that by now you really are dumber than I thought. Pretty sure it’s been obvious.”

His reaction was to hop off the desk, this time his arms coming around you in a hug. “God, I’m so in love with ya.” The words came whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but melt into the hug. “Good or this would’ve been really awkward.”

“Wait a fuckin’ second-“ you eyed him in confusion as the embrace ended you stepping back to cross your arms. “I said i was gonna confess first. Ya just had to mess things up. Take it back. I bet Samu that i would” You looked at him in disbelief. “On second thought-“

Your words are cut off by his hands pulling your hips into his. “Will you be my girlfriend. Let’s make it official.”

“What did i tell you about being sweet,” you scold the both of you leaning in your lips hoovering over each other. “Give me a few more weeks to worry about ya alright?” You nod hands locking around his neck. “Deal. And yes I’ll let you be my boyfriend.”

“Gonna ignore that for now,” before you could react he turns the two of you so that your back was against the desk. His lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he tells you to sit. Before he steps back eying you. “Can’t believe I almost lost this.”

The words are whispers to himself and you almost didn’t hear him as his hands trail up your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m literally in sweats. A far cry from how you usually see me” you tease leaning back to shift your weight into your palms. “Still the most beautiful woman in the world.” You ignore the warmth that blossoms within you opting to grab at his wrist. “I thought I said to stop being sweet.”

You thought you hear him say something about your deal it it’s quickly forgotten as he slots himself between your legs and roughly presses his lips against yours.

—-

A few months later

“Well it’s done. How d’ya feel.” Atsumu is the first to speak out his words filling the space within the car. “Like shit. But I’ll live.” You mutter honestly. “Ya want to take a few days off from the office?” His hand rubs comfortably up and down your thigh.

“And have you try and mess up my office. I’ll pass,” you sigh out, head coming to rest upon the headrest. “Sorry my taste is better than yours.” You flick your middle finger at him before closing your eyes. “Yeah well redecorate your own damn office. Oh wait- it’s not as nice as mine”

His laugh fills the car and you smile as his lips press against the back of your hand. The two of you sit in silence, the forming clouds outside seeming to match the conflict in your heart. “It’s just weird you know.” He nods in support.

“I know they tried to like kill me but— they were still my parents. They taught me everything I know.” A silence fills the car, Atsumu not really knowing what to say. “I hate that you’re so quiet these days.”

“I’ve lost at least 7 years of my life having to worry about ya through all this s-OW!” You roll your eyes as he rubs the arm you’ve just hit. He complained about you having a good arm before telling you to look at him.

“You’ll be fine. Ya got me and-“

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Shaking his head he continues,” and your sister and Granny. Our friends, and the whole city behind ya babe.”

You found yourself slowly nodding. You’re right,” you mutter more to yourself before leaning over the console to press a kiss on his cheek. Atsumu gives you a look before complaining. “That’s all I get. What a shitty thanks.”

You notice he slightly reclines his seat a smirk now on his face. “You’re definitely back to being annoying,” you scoff. “If you think I’m gonna ride you ride now you’ve lost it.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. What’s so bad about that. But what’s 1 kiss.” You ignore the way his hand creeps higher as you lean over the console. “It’s not even gonna be that if you don’t meet me halfway.” His eyes soften for a minute as he complied allowing your lips to connect. “Ya know what always makes me me feel better,” he mumbles lips against yours.

The hand that had been on your thought moved to cup your jaw. “If you say sex I’m gonna walk home,” you breathe out as he presses fluttering kisses along the side of your neck. He only laughs. “That and spending money. Let’s go out.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine as his touch gets harsher and you can feel the beginnings of a pain in the ass bruise at the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Only if you’re buying.” That causes him to stop, his eyes catching yours. “Aw c’mon ya have more money than me.”

“It’s official. I hate you,” you deadpan pulling away to sit in your seat. “I’m just joking. Lighten up woulda,” he teases the two of you fastening your seatbelt. “Just drive already.”

“Hey, (Y/N). I love you”

“I love you too. Now I think I deserve a treat right?

a/n: well one day i may add on to this universe but for now my longest piece of work is complete. Are there things id do differently? absolutely but for a total of 14k words between the two pieces? IM PROUD. thank u if u read it ily. Untl the next celebration yall

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #atsumu fluff

65 notes · View notes

rhetoricalrogue · 4 years

Text

Wayhaven Week, Day 6

For the @otomefandomevents Wayhaven Week 2020

Prompt: Daydream Pairing: Nate Sewell/Rowena Kingston Warnings: None, just excessive fluff Word Count: 2,232 Summary: Boring conference calls bring out the best sort of distractions

People who decided to hold meetings where a single email chain would do were the absolute worst, Rowena thought, trying not to sigh loud enough for the speakerphone to pick up. At least the mayor had decided on a conference call, and it did make her feel better knowing that Tina was with her in her office, if only for her to have someone to roll her eyes and make funny expressions at.

It really wasn’t all that professional, but the mayor had been droning on for the past hour and a half, so she decided to cut herself some slack.

He loves the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he? Tina grinned at her as she scribbled on the margins of Rowena’s notepad where she was attempting to take some halfhearted notes.

“Tina,” she whispered. “Pay attention.”

“Spoilsport.”

Rowena shook her head and took a sip of her tea, listening as the mayor and Captain Sung went over security details for the upcoming spring festival for at least the fifth time. Going over her notes, she absently started to scribble squares in the margins of her paper, boxing in Tina’s note several times to emphasize Tina’s statement, especially when it was obvious that on his end of the conference call the captain was starting to lose patience yet was trying his hardest to be diplomatic.

“Detective Kingston, perhaps the Agency wouldn’t mind loaning out an agent or two to assist?”

She sat straighter at the Captain’s suggestion. He’d made it clear to her that while she was the liaison to the Agency, the well-being of the citizens of Wayhaven were her first priority. To have him suggest that the Agency help out was a first. “I could suggest it to Agent Kingston, but I’m not quite sure to what extent we can -”

Mayor Friedman interrupted her before she could finish. “Excellent!” There was a sound of him slapping his hand on his desk. “I’m sure that Rebecca would loan out her team for the evening!”

Tina raised her eyebrows and leaned her elbows on Rowena’s desk. “With all due respect, Mayor,” Rowena began, attempting to tamp down the irritation at his overly familiar use of her mother’s name, “but just as my priorities lie first and foremost to Wayhaven, the Agency is Agent Kingston’s priority. I cannot in good conscience volunteer them without asking.”

That seemed to take the wind out of the mayor’s sails, at least temporarily. “Very well,” he grumbled. “However, it would help cover some of the gaps we have in securing the main square.”

Rowena looked at the map of the town she had printed out before the meeting. Wayhaven wasn’t that large, and it wasn’t as if she and Tina, back when Rowena was a patrol officer, hadn’t covered the same area satisfactorily. This year they had even managed to get more of a medical presence since the fire department had another paramedic on their roster.

She took another sip of her tea. No wonder Detective Reele had resorted to day drinking.

“I think at least one or two agents would be nice to have around,” Tina stated, causing Rowena to glare at her.

Traitor! Rowena wrote on her notepad, bolding the statement with several underline marks. Tina stuck her tongue out at her in reply.

“As I said, I can ask, but I can’t promise anything.”

“It would be helpful,” Captain Sung told her, his voice softly supportive over the speaker. “Yet I would understand if they were unable to help; we’ve done this festival with far fewer staff in previous years, we’ll be fine with the numbers we have.”

The conversation then turned more towards the specifics of patrol routes again, and seeing as it was something that they had gone over before, Rowena let her mind wander, more squares dotting her notepad as she thought how to broach the topic of borrowing one or two agents from Unit Bravo with her mother.

Of course, that thought made her think of Nate, and how nice it would be to have an evening with him, even if the two of them were on duty. She knew without a doubt that he would say yes if she asked him, and that was one of the reasons she was hesitant to ask. She didn’t want him to feel as if he had to do something for her just because she asked him to, or to feel bad if Unit Bravo’s schedule didn’t allow for him to do what she asked.

But still...the Spring Festival was one of Wayhaven’s annual events. The idea of strolling downtown amid all the food and craft vendors, music wafting through the air with Nate made Rowena’s heart flip. The town square was traditionally set aside as a dance floor, the live band at the gazebo in the middle. All around the area, paper lanterns were hung in the trees and strung up on poles, lending the area what Rowena had always felt was an incredibly soft, romantic atmosphere.

She’d never taken a date to the festival. Part of her wondered if Nate knew how to dance, which made her all but feel his hands on her, holding her close to him as they slowly swayed to whatever music was playing. It would be easy to lose herself to the depths of his eyes as everything else around them blended into background noise. She let her eyes close, imagining for a brief moment the gentle yet firm way his lips would press against hers, his arms holding her closer until there wasn’t any room between them.

“Rowena…” She sighed at the soft way he said her name, but frowned when Nate snapped his fingers in front of her face. Blinking, she sat upright. Tina looked at her with a toothy smile on her face.

“Sorry, Mayor,” she said, leaning across the desk to be better heard by the speaker. “We had a little technical difficulty on our end. Rowena said that she would be perfectly happy patrolling for the first shift.”

“Sorry,” Rowena silently mouthed, looking at her old partner guiltily.

“You owe me,” Tina mouthed back, looking pointedly at Rowena’s notepad. Where Rowena had been scribbling bold boxes and squares, soft hearts had taken over most of the page. Rowena flipped the paper over to a blank page and reached for her mug to finish drinking the contents.

The phone call finished soon after, most of the details ironed out to the mayor’s satisfaction. Rowena went over her notes and realized in frustration that they were mostly the same thing, just said different ways.

“Totally could have been an email,” Tina said, stretching in the guest chair on the other side of Rowena’s desk. “I had paperwork that I could have been doing.”

Rowena eyed the pile of paperwork that was stacked neatly in her inbox. “Me too.”

“Though seeing you zone out and daydream was worth it.”

She ran her hand over her face. “Ugh, at least it was you catching me instead of anyone. Thanks for the save, by the way.”

“Of course! What are friends for?” Tina stood up and stretched. “Besides, I volunteered you to take the first shift for a reason: you get done early and have the rest of the night to hang out with that tall drink of water agent of yours.”

That earned a blush that Rowena felt all the way to the tips of her ears. “He isn’t my agent,” she stammered, grabbing her mug and marching into the staff break room to wash it out.

“Sure he isn’t, Miss Fill My Notepad with Hearts While Sighing Dreamily.” Tina crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. “Pull my other leg while you’re at it.”

Rowena opened her mouth to argue, but Tina held up a hand. “Hey, I’m happy for you, you know that, right? With all the weird stuff that’s happened this year, you deserve a little bit of happiness.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “Besides, I’ve seen the way Nate looks at you, I don’t think he’d argue if someone called you his detective.”

She couldn’t help the soft smile as she wiped her mug dry with a paper towel and put it back in its place in the mug tree on the countertop with everyone else’s mugs. “It’s just really early, Tina,” Rowena said, wiping up the counter with the paper towel in her hand before balling it up and tossing it into the trash. “I don’t want to presume anything, just have fun with whatever this is.”

“Okay, but I’ve read enough romance novels to know that this is the Forever type of thing, if you want it to be.”

“We’ll see.” Rowena stretched her arms over her head, listening as her back popped from sitting for so long. “It’s about time to call it a day, I’m leaving early.”

“After this afternoon, I think we can both comp our time.”

“You said it. See you tomorrow?”

“With bells on!”

Rowena went back into her office to shut her computer off and grab her messenger bag. The day had been pleasant enough to skip driving to work in favor of a nice morning stroll. She eyed the wadded up paper bag in her trash can as she flipped off her light - it didn’t hurt that her morning walk to the office went directly past Haley’s bakery for one of her cherry turnovers and cup of lavender earl grey latte. Come to think of it, something sweet later on in the evening after some piano practice didn’t sound all too bad. Slipping her messenger bag over her head to sit across her chest, she started off towards the bakery, humming a cheerful tune.

And that was where she bumped into Nate, two to-go cups in his hands and a waxed paper bag hanging precariously in his grasp.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise,” she told him, smiling to match the one that lit up his face when he spotted her. “Do you need a hand?”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.” He handed her one of the cups to hold onto as well as the bag, which she put in her messenger bag for safekeeping. “I was hoping to catch you after work, but it seems as if you beat me to it.”

“I just got out of a long, tiresome conference call and decided that was all I could take for the day before my brain turned into mush.” She let the warmth of the paper cup sink into her fingers. “Someone ask you to make a coffee run?”

His smile softened and he looked down at her. “Actually, that was for you. Something told me that you may need a little after work pick-me-up, and it was an excuse to come see you. Your favorite tea and some cherry tarts. Haley was out of turnovers, but I figured these would suffice.”

She took a sip, enjoying the lavender flavor wash over her tongue as she wrapped her free arm around his waist for a hug. “Nate, you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

They both paused at her declaration, Rowena stiffening and making a move to scoot away. “Sorry, that just sort of slipped out,” she babbled. “I know this is still new and it’s too early to -” She didn’t get to finish her sentence before Nate leaned down and kissed her. Rowena slipped her arm from around his waist to grab a handful of his jacket and pull herself closer.

“Don’t be sorry,” he breathed, pressing another light kiss to her lips. “I like hearing you call me that.”

She smiled against his mouth. “What? My boyfriend?”

He nudged his nose affectionately with hers. “Yes. I like it very much.”

“Then I’ll have to remember to call you that as often as possible.” She leaned against him, happily sighing and putting her hand on his gentlemanly offered arm as they continued on their way back to her apartment. “Although I’m a little angry with you right now.”

He caught her teasing tone. “Oh? And what misdeeds did I do to gain your ire?”

“I was in the middle of that awful call and I got caught daydreaming.”

Nate laughed. “And that’s my fault?”

She nodded. “It is when I was daydreaming about you. You’re extremely distracting, I hope you know.”

He tugged her closer and took a sip from his own cup of tea. “I do apologize, Rowena.” Then he smirked. “Was it a pleasant diversion at least?”

Rowena glanced up at him and saw that his eyes had darkened and he was looking at her in such a way that made her wish they would hurry up and get back to her place. “It might have been, had Tina not gotten my attention back on the call.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” He winked at her and Rowena felt another blush rise up from her neck to her cheeks. “Though, perhaps now that you have me in the flesh, you’d like to pick up where you left off?”

She cleared her suddenly dry throat and gave him her best version of the bedroom eyes he so often gave her. By the way his breath hitched and the nearly inaudible groan he let out, she had to say she was successful. “Absolutely.”

#wayhaven week 2020 #the wayhaven chronicles #twc detective #f!detective/nate sewell #my writing #rowena kingston #nate sewell

29 notes · View notes

sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

feelings are fatal (5/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,255

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, unwanted flirting, anxiety attack

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

“You can’t be serious.”

Rolling your eyes, you put one hand on your hip as it cocked to the side. “What makes you think I’m not, Sam?” You asked as you glared daggers at the two men in front of you.

Bucky just smirked as he watched the two of you going at it. He wasn’t about to get into the middle of the two of you, even though he was also wearing a blue and orange jersey just like his best friend. His favorite team had left New York ages ago and taken up residency in Los Angeles. It was a sad, sad day when he’d found out that the Brooklyn Dodgers were no more.

Sam gestured to you, waving his hands all over the place. “You’re… You’re wearing a Cardinals jersey!”

“And? It’s a Cardinals game, dumb ass.”

“It’s a Mets game! And we live in New York! We’re supposed to support the home team!”

You raised your eyebrows. “I am. My dad was from the Midwest—St. Louis, specifically—so this is my home team.”

He sputtered, staring at you in disbelief. “You don’t even remember St. Louis!”

“And?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as he crossed his arms over his chest. Sam was quickly realizing that he couldn’t win this fight. He couldn’t even force you into the Mets jersey he had been planning on letting you borrow until he found you in a red and white jersey with a fucking bird on it. “Bucky’s sitting in the middle at the stadium,” he said before turning on his heel and marching towards the garage.

“Shall we?” Bucky asked as he held out his arm for you to take. There was a soft smile still lingering on his lips.

“Depends,” you said, even though you looped your arm with his anyway. “Are you going to give me shit for my jersey choices, too?”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “My team left Brooklyn in 1958 and I didn’t find out about it until I came out of my programming. I only took this jersey because Sam threw it at me.”

“I’m sorry it’s not the Dodgers,” you said quietly, gnawing on your bottom lip absentmindedly. You had heard that the super soldier was a baseball fan before the war, and when you found out that the Major League Baseball was starting up again, you’d immediately bought tickets for the first game in New York City. It was also a little weird, to have a season starting in mid-June, but whatever. The MLB had resigned itself to a super short season this year. Anything to get up and going again. You’d had to pull a few strings to get good tickets—aka, using the Avengers card—since it seemed like everyone was dying to see a game.

They didn’t call it America’s Favorite Pastime for nothing.

It had actually been a coincidence that they were playing the Cardinals, but you hadn’t hesitated to order a jersey once you saw it. It was a little thing to connect you to your parents, even though you didn’t remember them.

“Hey,” Bucky said, nudging you so you’d look up at him. “I don’t care if it’s the Dodgers or not. I haven’t been to a game since before I got drafted.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting it linger for what was a little longer than necessary. “This means the world to me, sugar.”

You closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips against your skin, relishing in the contact before he pulled away. “I’m sorry that I invited bird brain,” you said with a giggle. “I didn’t know he’d get so upset over me wearing a jersey.”

“We’ll just have to spend the entire game annoying him then, won’t we?”

“I heard that!” Sam shouted from where he stood beside the driver’s side of one of Tony’s cars. Your and Bucky’s laughter bounced around the huge garage as you headed for him. “You two are gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

The drive to Citi Field somehow didn’t end in a murder. You had dozed off in the backseat about fifteen minutes in, due to the late night before. Morgan had been having nightmares and you’d stayed up with her even after she fell asleep. Pepper had been losing sleep over her little girl and since she’d been going back to being the CEO—and now owner—of Stark Industries, she needed all the sleep she could get.

“She stay up with Mo again last night?” Sam asked, glancing up at you in the rearview mirror. Your cheek was smashed against the window, your phone hanging loosely from your fingers.

Bucky’s sea blue eyes were already on you, and he was feeling rather warm as he watched the way your shoulders gently rose and fell with each breath. “She was still awake when I went to check on her at three.”

The other man smirked as he watched the road. “You check on her, huh?”

He already knew where this was going, and he fought off an eye roll. “Don’t even go there.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I just think that it’s a little strange for a friend to—”

“Y/N checks in on Pepper all the time,” Buck retorted, staring out his side window. He could ignore Sam and also watch you in the mirror. A win-win all around.

“That’s because she’s a good person.”

The super soldier reached over and shoved him, though not hard enough to make him swerve. He might’ve if they were alone, but there was precious cargo in the backseat, and he wasn’t risking it. “Are you saying I’m not?”

Sam shrugged, glancing over at his friend. The city was coming into view up ahead. “I’m just saying that you check on her because you’re in love with her. She checks on Pepper because she wants to make sure that she’s taking care of herself and sleeping. Same reason she stays up with Morgan and doesn’t let her wake up her mom.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Bucky said as he stared at the upcoming skyline. “When you got her angry. She’s gotten a little better the past few days.” He paused, nose scrunching. “Well, I don’t know if ‘better’ is the right word. But she’s not as numb anymore.”

“When my mom died, I didn’t even cry at the funeral,” he said tentatively. His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, making sure you were still asleep. “I didn’t cry for four months. Then, I dropped her favorite coffee mug one morning and it shattered. And I just… I broke down. Everything I’d been ignoring and pushing away came to the surface.” He sighed, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. “I know it was unconventional, but anything is better than being numb and ignoring what’s going on. Anything.”

The game ended up being packed, completely sold out. Any other day, the crowds would be cranky. The parking was awful—cars still had to be towed from where they’d been dumped after the Snap—and the lines were outrageous. The food and drinks were still over-priced and Bucky says something that starts with, “Back in my day,” but no one cares.

Because for the first time in five years, there’s a baseball game. There’s a baseball game and everyone is just so grateful that they get to experience it.

The three of you end up in the first row behind the Mets dugout, right along the aisle. Sam was still adamant that Bucky sits in the middle, but you didn’t really mind. His hand was resting on his leg as he was turned, talking to Sam about something you didn’t care to know.

I wonder what it’d be like to hold his hand, you thought. Your cheeks flooded with color as you shook your head, immediately dismissing the thought. What the hell was that?

“Hey, aren’t you one of the Avengers?”

You blinked slowly, coming back to the present before turning to see one of the baseball players staring up at you. He was one of the older ones, probably around thirty. The number seventeen was printed on his jersey. You didn’t recognize him, but that was to be expected. You weren’t exactly a big fan of baseball before or after the Snap. “What?”

He grinned, and it struck you that it was a little flirtier than a normal smile. “They had that press conference for you years ago. You were—what? Twenty?”

“Eighteen,” you said, thinking back to that first press conference when it’d been announced that you were officially an Avenger. It’d only been three months after Natasha had recruited you, getting you out of the grasp of the Red Room and HYDRA.

The baseball player whistled, shaking his head. “Eighteen. I was still playing college ball back then.” He shot you a wink that made your skin crawl. “You were cute. Still are.”

You were vaguely aware that the conversation between Bucky and Sam had stopped, that the super soldier beside you had tensed up. The hand that you had just been thinking about holding was clenched into a tight fist. “Uh, thank you.”

“Pity you’re a Cards fan,” he said with a nod towards your shirt. He clearly wasn’t getting the signals that said that you absolutely did not want to talk.

And it wasn’t even that he wasn’t attractive. He was actually kind of alright looking. It was just that you were there to spend time with Bucky and Sam, not get hit on.

“Oh, uh…” You looked down at the red and white fabric, grabbing it for a moment. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond so you just shrugged. “My dad’s from St. Louis.”

“Maybe I can convert you.”

You must’ve suddenly turned into a guppy, because your mouth kept opening and closing like a fish as you tried to think of something to say that would tell him—very clearly—that you weren’t interested. But he had a stupid smirk on his lips that made your skin crawl and you knew that there were cameras somewhere on you and—

“Sugar, is he bothering you?” Bucky asked, glaring daggers at the guy. He protectively wrapped his left arm around you, pulling you a little closer. The metal digits of his hand stroked your shoulder protectively over the thick fabric of your jersey.

Seventeen’s eyes widened as he took in the man beside you. He’d clearly been so enamored with you that he hadn’t noticed the two other Avengers sitting in the next two seats. “Uh—”

Sam was sitting on the edge of his seat as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “If I were you, I’d turn around and pay attention to the game. Maybe then you wouldn’t be losing.”

The man’s eyes flickered between all three of you, clearly trying to decide whether it was worth it. After a moment of hesitation, he turned away and made his way deeper into the dugout. He was clearly pouting, but you really didn’t care.

“Thank you,” you breathed as you felt the tension in your shoulders dissipate. You didn’t move from Bucky’s embrace, though, choosing instead to curl up closer against him in case the man came back. Plus, the metal arm was a nice respite to the late June heat.

“Of course,” he breathed, though his eyes stayed locked on the game. He was sure that if he turned to look at you, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d spend way too long gazing at you, memorizing your features even more than he already had. But it was so rare for him to be able to look at you this closely. If he just turned his head slightly, he’d be able to count your eyelashes, see the little flecks in your e/c eyes.

He could feel the way your eyes kept flicking back over to him as you curled further into his side. It hadn’t hit you just how truly touch-starved you were until this moment. Sure, you’d held Morgan and things like that, but nothing like this. It was… nice. “I wasn’t sure how to tell him no,” you said with a faint laugh, trying to play it off even though you’d been pretty uncomfortable. “I know that the press would have a field day if they got a story about an Avenger turning down a baseball player. They’d take it out of context and make it seem like I’m a heartless bitch.”

“Well, fuck them,” he said, his jaw clenching. It pissed him the fuck off that you were scared to tell a man no because of how the media would portray you. “Right? Fuck the press. You have every right to turn him down. Avenger or not.”

Sam suddenly came into your field of vision as he leaned over, a playful grin on his lips. “I can kick his ass for you if you want.”

“No, that’s—”

You were suddenly caught off by the large screen lighting up, bright red letters saying ‘Kiss Cam!’ flashing on it as a bunch of hearts floated around it. Your eyes were locked on the couples that flashed across the screen, a soft grin on your face. It was nice to know that love was still a thing that existed. It kind of reminded you of that picture from the end of World War II, with the sailor dipping a girl and kissing her in the middle of Times Square.

But you didn’t notice the camera crew that had crouched in front of you and Bucky until you saw yourself on the screen, his metal arm still wrapped around you as your head rested on his shoulder. It looked so coupley that it made sense that the camera crew would’ve chosen you. You were Avengers who appeared to be dating. The heroes of the century. Of course they’d want you on their big screen.

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you sat up in your seat. His arm fell off you as waves of panic began to radiate from your body. What could you do? You were going to have to kiss him. You were going to have to kiss Bucky, and even though that wasn’t a repulsive, your mind immediately went to Steve. You knew that you shouldn’t be worried about what he’d think, that you shouldn’t worry that you’d be betraying him, but you couldn’t help it.

The crowd was beginning to chant, clearly getting impatient. All the noise around you was just adding to your anxiety. The man behind you clapped a hand on your shoulder and pushed you towards the super soldier harshly.

The man beside you whirled around, opening his mouth to chew out the man, but before he could say anything, Sam—who was in the shot—dragged him over to him and smacked a big kiss on his cheek. The crowd didn’t seem very happy, but the camera crew moved on after they realized that they weren’t going to get a smooch between you and Buck.

Sam said, “You’re welcome,” even though you didn’t hear it. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears. Everything felt like it was closing in, which was ridiculous because you were in an open air stadium. The former assassin beside you was currently turned around, sharing sharp words with the man who had pushed you, but you didn’t hear any of it. Your hands trembled where they rested on your lap.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You stared up at the ceiling of the shitty motel room, your lip worn from being bitten so much. Your hands were fiddling with the stiff white sheet covering the two of you. “Have you ever thought about our future?”

The super soldier rolled onto his side, so he was facing you, his brows furrowed. The look on his face was serious—but then again, it always was. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time your boyfriend of two years had laughed, though you’re sure it was before you went on the run. “Where’s this coming from?” He asked.

You moved to face him, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face. “I don’t know. I just…” Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You knew that this was reaching into territory that he didn’t like. “I miss the rest of our family.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know,” you said, sitting up suddenly, “that you and Tony aren’t… good. And you know that I agree with you on the Accords.” You were growing flustered as you ran your fingers through your hair. Steve’s t-shirt hung off your shoulders as your hands moved with your words. “Signing them would mean that we would’ve become nothing more than brainless pawns.” He watched quietly as you deflated, picking at the bedsheet underneath you. A sign of just how anxious you were. “I miss them.”

Steve sat up, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. “I miss them, too, doll,” he said, his voice cracking.

You were shocked to find tears rimming his eyes. Your hand reached up to cover his where it rested on your cheek. “I want to go home,” you croaked. A laugh wrenched itself from your throat as his forehead leaned against yours. For a moment, it was just you two. Nothing else outside mattered, and you could pretend that you were just young lovers spending the night in a foreign country. You could pretend that you weren’t considered criminals. “We’re a mess,” you giggled as he wiped at your tears.

“But I’m your mess,” he said teasingly, his fingers reaching out to grab at your sides. All seriousness was lost as he tickled you, straddling you so that you couldn’t get away. His laughter bounced around the hotel room, and it was so warm and so good that you didn’t even mind that he still hadn’t given up on tickling you.

When he finally stopped, collapsing beside you, the two of you just laid there. Your heavy breathing was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Turning on your side, you were surprised to find him already frowning again. “Hey, hey now,” you said as you moved to curl up into his side. “We’re having a good time, don’t go all Mister Serious on me now.”

A small smile cracked across his face. “Mister Serious.”

Your finger traced small shapes on his bare chest. The feeling of his steady breathing always helped to ground you. It had gotten so bad that you weren’t able to sleep without the sound of him beside you. “I haven’t heard you laugh in a long time,” you murmured, barely audible.

“I wish I could give you more than this.”

“What?”

His baby blue eyes were locked on the ceiling, a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. “You deserve someone who can give you a future.” His hand reached up to grab yours, squeezing you softly. “I’m always in the past, trying to catch up on everything I’ve missed. Trying to find where I belong.”

“I don’t mind,” you said timidly, trying to gauge exactly where he was going with this. If this was an attempt to break up with him, you might have to have words with him on leaving his girlfriend right after fucking her while they’re on the run because she became a criminal for him. His eyes slid over to you and you intertwined your fingers with his. “I was never one for a white picket fence, you know. The idea of being a soccer mom with a minivan isn’t very appealing.”

You’re rewarded with a snort as the hand that isn’t in yours gently runs through your hair. You can’t help but wince as he catches a few knots, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Sometimes I think I never should’ve been Captain America,” he said, and you felt the rumble of his voice in his chest more than you heard it.

“Why’s that?”

“I still feel like I don’t belong in the twenty-first century,” he admitted. There was a lump in his throat that he was fighting to speak around. “Sure, times were rough back then and it really sucked being sick all the time, but at least I understood the world around me. Here…” You had gone completely silent, letting him get all of it out and wondering how long he’d felt like this. “I always feel out of place. Like I’m a step behind everyone else and I’ll never catch up.” The weight of his hand in yours disappeared as he wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to—” He sat up, rubbing both of his eyes as he tried to hide from you, curling in on himself. “I don’t want to make you think that I don’t love you, because I do. But sometimes—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said as you tenderly wrapped your arms around him. Resting your head on his shoulder blade, you gently began to rock him back and forth. ��You’re okay. We’re okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Bucky,” Sam said as he watched you. He could see the panic that still resided in you, even though it’d calmed considerably when he’d kissed him.

“—dare you touch her like that.”

“Bucky.”

“I have half a mind to—”

“BUCKY!”

The man in question finally turned, his eyes narrowed darkly as he stared at Sam. “What?” He snapped. He clearly wasn’t done chewing out the older gentleman.

“We need to get her home,” he said, nodding at you.

You were still staring into space, your chest heaving with the shallow breaths you were taking. It was too much. Too much. The cameras on you, the chanting of the crowd. The feeling of unfamiliar hands shoving you.

Bucky reached for you, gently getting you to stand. “Come on, sugar,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. All the anger that had been in his eyes just moments before was gone. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

When you got back to the compound, you were still shaken, though you were starting to come out of it. Your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your chest, at least. The car ride home had been completely silent other than the soft whirring of the air conditioner.

Someone—Wanda, maybe—guided you to the couch and pressed a mug of chamomile tea into your hands, but you couldn’t be sure. Everything still felt a little fuzzy.

When everything came to, you found Bucky sitting on the other side of the couch. He had his nose buried in a book and was completely entranced. “James?” You said. The sound that came out of your throat was raspy and choked, as though you’d been gargling gravel.

His eyes went to you immediately and he dropped the book, scooting a little closer to you. He was more than a little surprised that you used his actual name, but he didn’t mind. Rather, he enjoyed it. He liked the way that it rolled off your tongue like the sweetest honey. “Hey, sugar. How are you feeling?”

You knew that he was trying to give you space, clearly unsure how close you were comfortable with him being. So you took it upon yourself and tucked yourself into his side. “I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?” He tugged you closer so that you were half-sitting on his lap, his arms wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“We were supposed to have a good day, and then we left before the bottom of the fourth because of me,” you said, your lower lip quivering.

“Hey, we still had a good time,” he reassured you as he rested his chin on your forehead. “It’s not your fault that there were a bunch of douche bags there.”

“Still, I—”

He squeezed you a little tighter, rocking you a bit. “No, no, no. ‘Still’ nothing. It’s not your fault.” He kissed a forehead. And he could admit that he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you more than anything in the world—and probably had since your days in the Red Room—but that wasn’t the right moment. You were still grieving the loss of your relationship, for one, and he wasn’t about to have your first kiss be broadcast to thousands of people.

Even though you still felt like a bit of a disaster, it wasn’t so bad knowing that your friends weren’t angry with you. Hell, you’d spent over half the car ride back convinced that they were going to be pissed that you all had left before the game was half over just because you couldn’t get a handle on your emotions. You giggled softly, burrowing into his chest. “Did you really say ‘douche bags?’”

And Bucky grinned as his fingers flew to your sides, tickling you mercilessly. “And so what if I did, huh? What if I did?”

You burst into laughter, squirming as you tried to get away. “J-James! Stop it!”

And it felt like a little bit of déjà vu, but you didn’t care. Because there was a feeling in your chest that told you that the brunet with startling blue eyes was here to stay.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine

898 notes · View notes

caws5749 · 5 years

Text

“why are you so tired hun?”

nat x reader.

Honestly, you were about to fall over. And you were sitting down, in the Avengers conference room to be exact. All of you were facing Steve as he stood up and lectured about some new upcoming mission. Natasha sat in the chair right behind you, with her chair scooted up much closer to yours than Sam’s behind her. Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was watching you quite closely. Your girlfriend knew something was up because your head was leaning on your hand, and she was pretty sure she’d have to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. Nat wasn’t sure why you were so tired, but she was going to figure it out.

The truth is, you haven’t been sleeping much. Like 2 hours a night. Your insomnia had decided to rear its ugly head, after a year of no issues. Nat didn’t know about your insomnia because you had only decided to share a room nine months ago. Every night you and Nat would head to bed, and you would fall asleep with little to no issue most nights. And that was important, because your loving girlfriend had a habit of waiting until she knew you were asleep and safe to let herself fall asleep. But after about two hours most nights, you’d be up and would just lay there, sometimes with your eyes closed and sometimes watching Natasha sleeping peacefully.

When Natasha saw your eyes close in the meeting, she decided to gently nudge you, which did not go as planned. You bolted awake, bringing the attention of everyone in the conference room towards you. You apologized profusely, and even Steve appeared amused. He had never seen you not taking notes in a meeting, let alone sleeping. He and every other Avenger could tell that something was off with you.

Though Natasha wanted to talk to you about what was going on, she recognized that what her girlfriend needed most right now was sleep and rest. As soon as the meeting was over, she gently led you to your shared room.

“How about we have a nice afternoon and watch a movie or some TV?” Nat asked.

“That sounds perfect babe,” you said with a soft smile, which she returned. Nat and you got under the covers and snuggled up to one another. You had your head resting on her chest and you were very comfortable, which Nat had done on purpose. She wanted you to be so comfortable that you wouldn’t be able to resist sleep, which is exactly what you would try to do and she knew it. She started the movie and began running her fingers through your hair. You immediately were lulled into a state of bliss, and it wasn’t long before you were yawning with your eyes closing. Though Nat had planned to let you sleep, her worry and concern got the best of her, and she found herself asking,

“Y/N?”

“mmmm,” you replied.

“Why are you so tired hun?”

“haven’t been sleeping much,” you muttered. “I have insomnia.”

Nat paused her hand running through your hair, causing you to let out a soft complaint. She chuckled and resumed her strokes, but resumed her questioning.

“How long have you had insomnia Y/N?”

“For like ever. I haven’t had problems for a year but now I am again,” you admitted quietly.

“Oh love, what can I do to help?” murmured Natasha.

“mmmmm nothing to do,” you said before finally drifting off. Natasha decided not to probe further and instead thought about what she could do to help you while you slept. An hour later, you woke up with Nat still running her fingers through your hair, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, alerting her you had woke.

“Hi there sleepyhead,” she teased. You giggled, making her chuckle. With your lack of sleep and all over the place sleep schedule, you felt pretty loopy, something you girlfriend picked up on. She began to let her fingers roam to your sides, and before you know it, you were being tickled by Natasha Romanoff. You giggled until you couldn’t breathe, which prompted her to let up the torture. By the time you evened your breathing out, sat up, and turned around to give her kisses, she was dawning a frown.

“What’s wrong Nat?” you asked with a frown also overtaking your features.

“I think we should talk to Tony and Bruce about your insomnia,” she admitted. Your frown deepened and fear entered your eyes. You had gone to lots of doctors in the past and every time whatever they said didn’t work, or they tried to prescribe pills, which you refused. Natasha saw the fear in your eyes and tried to soothe you.

“Love, it’s okay. We just have to talk to them. And if they say something that you want to try, we can work at it together, okay?” She waited for you to believe her promise of working together, and when you gave the slightest nod, she gave you a soft smile and pushed you gently off her. She then tugged your hand and you begrudgingly followed her to the lab.

As soon as Bruce and Tony saw you both entering, they knew something was up. They already knew something was up with you due to you falling asleep in the meeting. Judging off of the look on your face, they also deduced Nat forced you to come to the lab.

“What can we do for you?” Bruce asked, looking at you.

“Y/N has insomnia and we want to talk about what could help,” Natasha stated, looking at you. You refused to meet her eyes, causing her to squeeze your hand lightly until you did. She gave you a soft smile of encouragement, and you looked at Bruce and nodded, confirming what Nat said.

Bruce offered you a smile before turning to Tony, who was clearly already running his mind a mile a minute trying to come up with ideas.

“No pills,” you interjected softly.

“No pills,” Tony repeated, nodding. You gave him a smile after hearing that confirmation, and you visibly relaxed, causing Nat to rub your back in encouragement. After a few minutes of Tony and Bruce talking quietly to each other, they were ready to offer you advice.

“Melatonin,” Bruce stated simply. “They’re little gummies that you take right before bed. They usually mostly help fall asleep, not stay asleep necessarily, but we’ll try that first anyway and see if it helps.”

“It’s easy to take too, and simple, so it’s a good place to start,” Tony added. He gave you the Melatonin, which you eyed somewhat suspiciously. He let out a laugh and gave Nat a face that could have only meant good luck with that.

Later that evening, you and Natasha were cuddling before bed. She could tell both you and her were getting tired, and she gently moved you over so that she could grab the Melatonin. You pouted, which made her chuckle as she opened the bottle.

“I don’t wannaaa Naaattttt,” you whined. She scolded you with a pointed look, and pulled out two gummies, one for each of you. She ate hers right away, which made you feel a little better at least. You took yours in your hand and slowly put it in your mouth. You chewed and swallowed, a look of disgust on your face. She smirked at you, making you pout.

“It’s gross,” you stated.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she retorted. “Now come on, time for bed.” You both laid down pressed up against each other, and drifted off pretty quickly. You slept for a few hours, but woke up as you normally did. You sighed softly into the pillow, and waited the hours it took for Natasha to wake.

A few hours later, she was starting to move around, your cue she was close to waking up. A few minutes later she was yawning quietly and stretching her limbs, before finally opening her eyes. She glanced at you, only to find you awake. A frown overtook her features, her face asking you if you had been up for long.

“It didn’t work,” you muttered. She sent a sympathetic look your way, before pulling you close to her and giving you a morning kiss. She pulled you out of bed a little while later and you two went to eat in the kitchen. Bruce entered not long after, greeting you both.

“Hey, how did the Melatonin work?” he asked. You shook your head, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I know you don’t want pills, but I think that might be the only thing that might help your insomnia,” he explained.

“Then I guess I’ll never get enough sleep,” you retorted, earning you a scolding from Natasha.

“I’ve got something I think might help,” Tony said as he walked into the kitchen, greeting everyone. You eyed him suspiciously, before he asked you a question.

“Hey Y/N, how do you feel about needles?” You shrugged, you didn’t mind needles, and told him that. He then spent the next ten minutes explaining to you how he had worked all night to come up with a substance he could inject into you that would help to keep you asleep during the night. Nat didn’t like his little experiment, and shook her head throughout his entire explanation. Honestly, you were so exhausted that you’d do anything to get some good sleep, besides of course take pills.

“Great, I’ll prep the machine for tonight,” Tony said enthusiastically, and left to return to his work.

Later that evening, you and Nat entered the lab, and Tony immediately had you lay down. He showed you the needle and how much fluid he’d inject, and you nodded your permission. You glanced at Natasha hovering over near the desk, arms crossed with pursed lips. She offered you a soft smile as she met your gaze, before her slight scowl returned. Tony got to work inserting the needle, which was relatively painless, and then gasped as you could feel the fluid entering your body. Natasha was at your side in an instant, asking you what was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just really cold,” you responded. You already had goosebumps everywhere and were starting to shiver.

“Sorry,” Tony apologized, “I can’t make it any warmer or it will affect the chemicals.” You nodded. You’d rather be a little cold than not be able to sleep. Well, maybe a lot cold. A few minutes later Tony took out the needle, satisfied with how the process had gone. He allowed you to leave the lab, stating that he was going to have JARVIS or him check up on you later, especially because it was going to take a little bit for your body to warm up. You and Natasha walked back to your shared room, and you could feel her glancing at you every time you shivered. You both climbed into bed, but she left a few moments later to get another blanket. Twenty minutes later you were still freezing, but trying to hide it so that Nat wouldn’t worry.

“You’re still shivering,” she murmured. Clearly you weren’t fooling her. You sighed.

“Tony said it might take a while,” you replied. She nodded and just wrapped the blankets more snug around you. An hour later, you had finally stopped shaking, and were getting tired. Tony stopped by then, and checked your body temperature. He seemed satisfied, and left you with the instruction to stop by the lab in the morning. You nodded, your eyes starting to close.

“I hope this works,” Natasha said as you both turned out the lamps.

“Me too,” you said softly, before cuddling up to her. You fell asleep quickly after that, and woke up a while later. Nat wasn’t lying beside you, which caused you to frown. When you could tell she wasn’t in the bathroom, you frowned even more.

“JARVIS, where’s Natasha?” you questioned.

“Miss Romanoff is currently training,” the A.I. responded. You checked your watch and were shocked. It was seven AM. You had actually slept the entire night. You pretty much jumped out of bed and ran to Tony’s lab. When he saw you out of breath with a smile on your face, he gave a slight cheer and proceeded to boost his own ego, making you roll your eyes. You left him and made your way to the gym. Nat was working on her biceps, lifting weights. You sighed softly as you paused to watch your girlfriend for a moment. She turned.

“See something you like?” she questioned, her tone seductive. You hummed, before walking over to her.

“It worked,” you murmured as soon as you entered into her arms. She had a hint of a smile on her lips before pressing a kiss to your forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief, and you realized that she had been much more worried about your insomnia than you had.

“How did I end up with the most amazing, caring girlfriend in the world?” you asked. She gave you a signature smirk, but you didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up at your words. She gave you another kiss, this time on your lips, before gently pushing you towards the gym door to start breakfast.

“I’ll be up soon,” she promised. You nodded, smiling as you went to start your breakfast, realizing you wouldn’t have to be a zombie anymore from your lack of sleep. You started thinking about all the things you and Nat could do with all your extra energy.

Yeah, insomnia sucked, but luckily you had a team that cared about you.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x femreader #marvel #avengers #fanfiction #mine

295 notes · View notes

saint-of-los-angeles · 5 years

Text

Don’t Go Away Mad

WOW HERE IT IS, THE LONGEST FIC I HAVE DONE. This fic was done with a coauthor, the beautiful, wonderful, talented @merryy-go-round. I’m seriously like proud of this fic and I know she is too. THANK YOU GIRL, I LOVE YOU!!!

Summery: “Tommy was dying, this had to be what death felt like. There was no other way to describe the feeling of impending doom that he was being crushed under at hearing those words. Those horrible words, uttered from a total fucking stranger’s mouth. Nikki was dead, he was gone forever, he would never look into his green eyes again.”

Another take on Nikki’s overdose and the impact it has on Tommy.

Warnings: Drug use, Overdose, general sadness. But y’all know I dont do sad endings.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx/ Tommy Lee

TAGGING A FEW PEOPLE I THINK MAY LIKE. (If you dont want tagged, feel free to message and tell me, I wont be offended I swear) @malibubarbievince @tommyysixx @the--blackdahlia @stellalux-universe @devil-shouted @sixx-tommy-roger-john @motherfucker-oftheyear @jenerallymarvelous @fan-with-issues

After a grueling press release for their upcoming album, Tommy was fucking drained, and all he wanted to do was go home, to Nikki’s, and soak up the last bits of peace before their upcoming tour began. Tommy lived for the moments where he could have the older man all to himself, when he could take the time to just study the bassist’s face and bask in the fact that he was his. Although the deeper Nikki sunk into his love affair with his liquid mistress, the farther in between these moments became.

Tommy tried so, so hard not to dwell on it, to just be happy with the time he did get with Nikki. Something was better than nothing right? They would be out of there in just a matter of minutes, if Vince would just stop fucking talking for once, and Tommy would be able to spend his night catching up on some much needed alone time with Nikki.

They didn’t have anywhere that they had to be until after Christmas day. This means Tommy gets to spend three whole days with his boyfriend, uninterrupted, which was a rare fucking feat in the crazy lives they lived. Tommy wondered if he should have the driver make a detour to stop by Nikki’s favorite restaurant to brighten his mood. He was getting way too fucking skinny, these days. Or maybe they could go to that new music store that the older man had mentioned a few weeks ago, anything, really to put a smile on Nikki’s face was fucking worth it to Tommy, a smile that he had put there, as compared to the one he gets when he’s melting down his liquid gold in a dirty spoon.

As he was mentally constructing up the perfect evening in his head, he was snapped out of his daydreaming by a rather loud sigh that rolled out from between the bassist’s lips. Nikki looked beyond impatient, and beyond ready for this press conference to just fucking end already, and to everyone else, it may look like Nikki was just ready to finally relax and get some fucking rest. But Tommy wasn’t everyone else, and he felt the hope that he had in place for the ‘perfect night’ ahead of them extinguish like a match on a windy day.

Nikki could care less about getting out of here to spend time with Tommy, Nikki just wanted to get high.

Both men could feel the tension developing in their relationship around the time that the older man met his love affair in the form of heroin, and it was taking a toll on both of them. Before heroin, Tommy never really thought to worry about Nikki’s intake of illegal substances, because duh. Rockstars, remember?

Tommy had always previously seen the bassist as indestructible when it came to drugs. Nikki knew how to handle himself and had everything under perfect control, he had promised Tommy that he knew what he was doing and would never do anything to leave Tommy all alone. When Tommy thinks back to how fucking naive he was to think that anyone is above addiction, he has to laugh at himself. The drummer was always a little too optimistic, and maybe he still is.

Too optimistic about his relationship being perfectly normal, and healthy, and thinking things will work out on their own. Too optimistic, too stupid to realize that he has lost the Nikki that he fell so hard for, the Nikki that could look into his eyes and tell him he loved him more than anything and mean it. As much as Tommy knew he was living in a world of denial, he hoped that tonight, for just one night he could just close his eyes and pretend that he was still the most important thing in Nikki’s life.

Nikki had been visibly irritated throughout the entire conference and Tommy barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the sight of Nikki’s clenched jaw and bouncing leg. He knew that look, he had seen it too many times over the past few months. Nikki just wanted to get the fuck out of there, so he could shoot up, and what else was new?

What had started out as yet another recreational drug to add to the long fucking list of drugs that Crue did on a daily basis, had turned into something much more sinister for the bassist, and Tommy couldnt even put a pinpoint to the moment that the drug had stolen his boyfriend, the love of his life, away from him. Maybe it was easier to ignore the alarming amount of track marks, and the always present slur in the man’s voice than to face the fact that the man he loved more than anything was a fucking junkie, and on his way to an early grave.

Before heroin, Nikki could sit and listen to Tommy ramble for hours about drum fills, how annoying his hair was being that day, how much he missed his parents, anything really. He’d sit there and listen to Tommy with a smile on his face and this look in his eyes like there was absolutely nowhere else he’d rather be.

These days, however, Tommy found himself fighting to be the center of attention for more than just a few minutes. Nikki had found a new subject of affection, and from the looks of it, the bassist probably hasn’t shot up since before they got to the conference building, which was over 4 hours ago.

As the press conference finally came to a close, thanks for finally shutting up Vince, Tommy frowned as he studied his boyfriend a little more closely. He could see the sheen of sweat that coated Nikki’s face as the bassist stood and then turned to shoot him a quick, almost nervous glance. It was the look that Tommy had seen 100 times, it was nerves mixed with guilt and it always meant that Tommy wasn't going to like what Nikki had to say.

“Hey babe, I’m gonna head out. Slash invited me out to this thing and you said you wanted to go home and crash so...” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and avoiding eye contact at all cost. Tommy scoffed loudly causing Nikki to shoot him a surprised glance.

Tommy rarely objected to these things, knowing it was a losing battle anyway, and being too afraid to send the older man scattering away to a hiding spot that he would eventually die in, but something about Nikki’s tone, as if he expected Tommy to just be totally fine with being ditched had Tommy unable to bite his tongue this time.

“Yeah, as in go home and crash with you,” Tommy began as he stood, stepping in front of the exit to prevent the other man from leaving. “My boyfriend who hasn’t spoken more than ten sentences to me today. Seriously you can’t go one fucking night with choosing me over shooting that fucking poison into your neck, Nik?” Tommy’s sharp tone surprised even himself, as stared down into the slightly shorter man’s eyes.

All of the feelings of fear, frustration and anger that Tommy had been suppressing for months seemed to come to the surface and it surprised him as much as it surprised Nikki. The older man’s eyes reflected the hurt and confusion at his words, who then was shushing him when he noticed the stares from various bystanders who were still lingering around the large room.

Tommy continued speaking without bothering to lower his voice. “What Nikki? Don’t want everyone to think you’re some sort of junkie?” The words felt cruel coming out of his mouth and he almost instantly felt sick to his stomach saying the word “junkie” to Nikki, but he couldn’t back down now. He watched the other man still at his words and watched as his expression shifted from confused to pissed.

“You know what Tommy, fuck you. I don’t need your fucking permission. Just fuck off.” The bassist was sneering at Tommy as he twirled around to leave.

“Hey, we aren’t done with this!” Tommy started as he reached to grab Nikki’s shoulder to spin him around to face the drummer’s fiery eyes once again. Tommy was a little shocked over his own actions, where did this wave of anger come from? They had small arguments all the time, they were both passionate, headstrong people, but things never escalated to the point where things were unmendable. If Tommy stopped now things would go back to how they were, and they would just ignore that this ever happened. But no, fuck that, Tommy was upset, he had been for fucking months and he had held it in for as long as he could, and now that he had let a little out, he couldnt seem to reel in his emotions.

Nikki looked just as shocked as Tommy did, but underneath his bewildered expression at the treatment he was receiving from his usually happy and carefree boyfriend, was the desperation of an addict that just wanted to fucking shoot up already, and Tommy was preventing that.

“Yes we fucking are Tommy, I’m done with this conversation, Slash is waiting for me, I’ll see you later.” Tommy could hear the barely restrained anger bubbling under Nikki’s words and something about that irked him to no end. How dare Nikki be upset, when he’s the one leaving Tommy to go home alone for the thousandth fucking time, so that he can go inject some poison into his veins?

“Nikki, if you fucking leave, don’t expect me to be there when you get home.” The words felt foreign and WRONG on Tommy’s lips. Part of him wanted to immediately retract the statement and hug Nikki, because back when Nikki and him had first admitted their feelings, Nikki had admitted in a moment of pure trust and love that Tommy leaving him was always his worst fear. Tommy always promised him that nothing he could do would ever push him away. But Tommy was so angry, and above anything else, he was hurt that Nikki would put some amber liquid in a needle above him, who had always been there for him, even when the bassist was terrified of love and tried pushing him away.

"I swear if you leave then I am done with this shit. I can’t watch you do this anymore. You are killing yourself, you do realize that right? I mean, fuck Nikki, I don’t know if I would have fallen in love with you if you were this person when we met.”

Tommy watched as Nikki’s shocked expression turned into pure hurt for a split second, before morphing into the most venomous sneer Tommy had ever seen from Nikki. He knew before the words were out of his mouth that he had gone too far. Nikki had barely been controlling his anger before, but at the harsh words it was as if a switch was flipped.

His loving boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Tommy had never felt afraid of Nikki before, but the look of pure disbelief and fear mixed with anger and confusion was enough to scare him. Tommy could tell that Nikki had completely shut down at this point, and could see the tremors the man was succumbing to, whether it was from the need for drugs, or from holding back his anger, he didn’t know.

Tommy would prefer a punch straight to the face rather than see the pain that he caused on the elder’s features, it would be substantially less painful.

Even Mick, who had been sitting awkwardly on one of the plush couches that the pair had just been occupying even looked shocked at the explosion that seemed to come from nowhere.

Tommy was about to speak again, the overwhelming feelings of guilt and regret immediately replacing the feelings of anger. He was just hurt, and he wanted to just tell Nikki that, how he felt like sometimes he couldn’t fucking breathe when he thought about Nikki out there shooting up a substance that could end his life one day, but Nikki beat him to it.

“You know what, you’re right, Tom. I have changed, and maybe I’m tired of having a boyfriend who just bitches about everything I do instead of having any fucking fun. Thanks for the fucking reality check, babe.” Nikki all but ground out with eyes hardening more and more, the more he spoke. “If you’ll excuse me, I have important business to tend to. You know how us junkies are.” Tommy could barely hear the crack in the older man’s voice that caused his heart to ache, and all he wanted to do was just take it back.

Before Tommy could get his mouth to connect with his brain Nikki was already storming off in the direction of the exit. Using his shoulder to push past the stunned drummer, roughly jolting him to the side.

Mick stared in silence at the youngest member of the band, when Vince decided that he finally wanted to grace the rest of them with his presence, all smiles as he bounded over to Tommy, throwing a casual arm around his shoulder. “Guess we can ditch this place, yeah? Dude, where’s Nikki?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a quiet explanation of the bassist’s whereabouts, Tommy allowed himself to be drug along to Vince’s favorite strip club, and honestly he was grateful for the distraction. He had never been so appreciative of Mick’s non-prying nature and Vince’s absolute inability to worry about anything that doesn’t directly affect his life. If he had gone to his empty apartment he was sure he would be driven mad by the constant replay of the look of betrayal and hurt on Nikki’s face in his mind. So here he sits with his fifth- no sixth?- whiskey sour and he wants more than anything to press rewind and take everything back.

Now that he had calmed down and had time to process what the fuck had happened, and the words exchanged, he was left with such intense feelings of self loathing that he was sure that he would collapse under the pressure if not for the barstool he was currently sat on. Why did he snap at Nikki like that?

Despite Nikki’s shitty attitude and distant nature lately, he knew deep down that Nikki was really sick, and he had always been bad at expressing love in relationships, why should this relationship be any different? Tommy wanted to help Nikki through his issues, not make them worse.

Tommy had already started making plans to apologize to Nikki as soon as possible when his world suddenly changed forever. He didn’t process the words when he heard them, he just blankly looked up to stare at these three dudes talking amongst themselves, arms waving dramatically in what appeared to be disbelief.

“Dude, did you hear?”

“Nikki Sixx overdosed on smack dude, he was hanging out with Slash from Guns and Roses, he’s the one who found him.”

“Shut up”

“I swear, dude, so long Motley Crue, huh? Fucking sucks, I loved them.”

No.

Nikki didn’t overdose, not even in Tommy’s worst fucking nightmares did Nikki overdose. Nikki swore he’d never leave him, swore he had it under control. How the fuck did these guys know Nikki was with Slash tonight? This wasn’t true, this couldn’t be fucking true, but everything in Tommy’s gut was telling him it was.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK?

Tommy was dying, this had to be what death felt like. There was no other way to describe the feeling of impending doom that he was being crushed under at hearing those words. Those horrible words, uttered from a total fucking stranger’s mouth. Nikki was dead, he was gone forever, he would never look into his green eyes again, and what was the last thing that Tommy had even said to Nikki? It sure as hell wasn’t ‘I love you’ or anything that would have told the bassist that he was Tommy’s entire universe, because he was goddamnit.

No, his last words were spoken in rage and Tommy didn’t think he could handle this much, he was choking, he was dying, but death would be preferable at this point, because his options were either die, or live a life without Nikki.

Not even feeling or acknowledging the tears on his cheeks that fell from his puffy eyes, Tommy brought a hand up and put it over his chest, feeling his heart pump pump pumping under his fingertips and let out what could only be described as a primal wail.

He willed his heart to fall still under his fingers because nothing could be worse than this, nothing could be worse than this raw, gnawing pain that seemed to start in his chest and overtake his whole being. He could feel Vince’s hand on his shoulder, but the touch of comfort only burned him. He didn’t want the comfort, he didn’t want to feel comfort in a world where Nikki no longer existed.

Vince was definitely yelling his name now, lightly smacking his cheek in a sorry attempt to get him to snap out of the trance he had fallen in, but Tommy felt like he was underwater. Everything was coming out muffled, his ears felt stuffed full and most of all he felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the weight of the information he had just learned from these total fucking strangers.

Tommy forced himself to make eye contact with his lead singer, taking in the unshed tears in the blonde’s eyes that were overflowing with a mixture of grief for his late bandmate, and overwhelming concern for the one he left behind.

He wanted to talk to Vince, to lie and tell him that he was okay but he needed to go process this information alone, but he just couldn't bring his brain to form a coherent lie. He opened his mouth to speak, and all that came out were strangled sobs as he reached up to grab fistfuls of his own hair, tugging on the dark locks out of pure desperation. He felt Vince’s hands under his armpits, and he realized he must have been falling at some point, struggling to keep his own feet underneath him, but it was like all his body even knew how to do in this moment was cry.

“Tommy- Jesus Christ man- I don’t- I’m so fucking sorry- I…” Vince looked absolutely lost, completely unsure what to say, and wrecked if Tommy was being honest, and despite really wanting to comfort his friend of so many years, because Vince had lost Nikki too, Tommy did the only thing he physically could at the moment- he told Vince the truth.

“I- I wish I was fucking dead too, Vin- I can’t…”

Tommy regretted allowing that feeling to slip past his lips immediately as he looked into the widening eyes of his frontman, and as Vince opened his lips to respond, Tommy was turning and sprinting out of the club, shoving past anyone in his way. He could vaguely hear Vince yelling his name behind him and the fading sound of Vince’s boots pounding behind him.

Tommy was gratefu thatl the adrenaline and his longer legs could get him the fuck out of there, away from Vince’s worried eyes, away from those strangers who knew that his boyfriend was dead before he even did, and away from that nightmare of a club.

He knew he’d never be able to step foot in that place ever again.

—-

Tommy wasn’t sure how he even made it to Nikki’s house, honestly. Everything leading up to this moment was a blur in time, making Tommy question how long it had even been since he heard the devastating news.

Not that it mattered, time had no meaning to the drummer anymore.

Raising his hand to knock on the door, the younger man stopped himself and let out a sob at the realization that there was no fucking point in knocking. No one lived here anymore.

So Tommy took out his spare key instead, the metal seemingly burning in his hands as he opened the door to the house he had entered so many times, but now that would never be the same.

There would be no more late night conversations in this house, no more early morning make out sessions- morning breath and all. No more hiding out in Nikki’s music room, writing lyrics and banging out drum fills until the sun rose through the tall windows of Nikki’s second story. No more pathetic attempts at surprising Nikki with brunch- only to set off every single fire alarm the bassist had in the house. No more smiling, no more laughter, no more making love.

Not in this house and not anywhere in the drummer’s life, ever again.

Tears were giving way to anger at this point. Anger at himself for not just flushing all of Nikki’s shit, anger at Nikki for not just coming home with him tonight, and anger at the universe for taking the best thing in Tommy’s life and keeping it somewhere where he would never be able to reach.

That anger needed an outlet, and that outlet came in the form of absolutely destroying anything that the drummer could get his hands on. Everything pissed him off to look at. Everything in this house was just a horrible reminder of what he had lost and in that moment, Tommy wanted everything to feel just as wrecked as he did.

Ignoring the sting in his hands as he threw various vases, records, and other breakable objects against the walls, Tommy was oblivious to the tears that flowed from his eyes as his fist made contact with the TV screen and his foot kicked a sizable hole in his late boyfriend’s drywall.

Tommy’s chest was heaving with the struggle to take in air as he knelt on the floor in the wreckage he had created. Nikki’s place was unrecognizable, and he could feel his knees stinging from the sharp prick of the broken glass he was kneeling in- and where the fuck did that come from, anyway?

Tommy could finally see the scene around him, as his body had run out of tears. The tears had dried up, his body had no more to give, but the sobs remained, choking him in a vice like grip around his throat, and all Tommy could think was he wished that these sobs could actually choke him to death, so he could see Nikki and tell him that he loved him, and that he didn’t mean a goddamn word he said when they had all those stupid fucking fights.

As Tommy continued to survey the scene around him, he noticed a baggie poking out from underneath Nikki’s couch, and he knew instantly what that baggie contained.

Heroin was never his drug of choice, he preferred the euphoric burst of energy and unbridled emotions that cocaine gave him. Tommy loved feeling emotions, everything he felt, he felt in excess, it had always been that way, so the synthetic effects of cocaine on his emotions were always a good time to the drummer.

At first, Tommy could feel nothing but all encompassing anger surging through his veins the longer he looked at the corner of that baggie, because that evil shit took his Nikki away, but the more Tommy thought about it, the more he realized that Nikki took those drugs because they numbed him, and there was nothing on this Earth that Tommy wanted more than for this pain to go away.

It was as if his body was on autopilot, and he was now standing with the small bag clenched in his fist, relishing in the sting of his fingernails digging into his palm. He shuddered as his choking sobs dwindled down to hiccups. What was the point of life without Nikki anyways? How the fuck would he ever feel joy again after this night? Tommy just wanted for everything to just stop.

Tommy had only done this devil drug once before, the curiosity surrounding the drug turned into an impulse decision one late night a few months prior, in this very house, with the very man he was mourning.

Tommy was laying on Nikki’s bed, watching as the bassist started to nod off from the drugs injected only moments ago. Tommy frowned at the sight of the bloody needle now laying loosely in the man’s open fist, the object mesmerized the drummer. That tiny object brought his boyfriend so much pleasure, he was almost jealous.

“What does it feel like?” The younger man asked, not for the first time. He was always curious, the euphoric look on Nikki’s face after shooting up had always seemed to outdo any other drug that he subjected himself to, and Tommy just wanted to know what the hype was about.

“You wanna find out?” Nikki had murmured back, his response slightly delayed as his cloudy mind processed the other man’s words. Even in his hazy state, it took the bassist by surprise when Tommy stated that he did, in fact, want to shoot up.

Tommy didn’t remember much from that night aside from Nikki’s still hands calming his shaking arm, nerve’s wracking his lanky frame as the older man plunged the liquid poison into his veins.

He also remembered Nikki’s hands rubbing up and down his back, holding his hair back, and Nikki’s voice soothing him as he emptied his stomach into the toilet for what must have been the 5th time that night.

After that night Tommy had sworn to never use heroin again. He didn’t like the nausea or the feeling of being numb. He didn’t understand why Nikki would ever want to feel so empty all of the time, but right now, it seemed like Tommy’s only way out of this nightmare.

With shaking hands Tommy moved to the closet where he knew Nikkis kept his rigs and clean needles. With a pang in his chest he wondered if he should have fought harder to stop his boyfriend from destroying himself, if as angry as he had been with Nikki this whole time, if this was actually his fault all along. If he could have saved the bassist from himself after all, if he had just flushed his shit and forced him into rehab.

The thought of that was too painful to bear.

Having watched Nikki do this so many times Tommy felt almost proud of himself in a sick way for knowing exactly how to do this. Taking the now prepared syringe over to Nikki’s well worn in couch he sat on the floor with his back resting against the couch, and took a deep breath. A quick, borderline hysterical laugh escaped his lips as he realized he was really going to do this.

He was such a fucking hypocrite.

For the first time in his life, Tommy relished in the pain that came from prick of the needle instead of cringing away from it, because it was the first time since hearing the news that Tommy felt anything besides the pain of losing Nikki.

As he pushed the plunger down Tommy relished in the warm escape, taking note of the lack of nausea he felt this time.

‘Hey maybe Nikki was right, it does go away.’ Tommy’s hand fell away loosely and his head lolled forward as the drugs coursed through his veins, and he felt his overwhelming emotional pain ebb away into an undeniable bliss.

The last coherent thought that Tommy had before succumbing to the warm darkness around him was of piercing green eyes and long black hair.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nikki’s first thoughts upon waking up in the hospital were of Tommy. Of course they were, he loved that boy, and he had said horrible fucking things to him, he missed him, he needed him.

He felt alone for the first time since Tommy and he had made themselves official.

He didn’t focus on anything the doctors were saying, didn’t listen to their cries of protest as he ripped out his IV, feeling the blood dripping down to his wrist for the second time that day, to shove his way out of the hospital doors before anyone could keep him longer, preventing him from seeing the only thing that could really heal him at the moment. He wanted, no needed, to see Tommy to explain for himself what had happened, that it had been an accident, he never meant to leave him. He couldn’t imagine if the roles were reversed, and he was under the impression that the love of his life had died without him and with a needle in his arm.

The thought made him sick.

His first thought was to go straight to Tommy’s place, but when he arrived, his heart dropped when he saw that the other man’s car was nowhere to be found. Shaking his head in defeat, he used his key to enter anyway, disappointed but not surprised when he found the apartment empty and dark. Rushing into the kitchen, he picked up Tommy’s phone and dialed his own phone number, slamming the phone down in frustration when he hit his own voicemail.

Nikki took a deep breath and dialed Vince’s number, hoping that the singer might know the whereabouts of his missing boyfriend.

Tommy didn’t know it, but Nikki had asked Vince several times in rare moments of drunken vulnerability to always watch after Tommy if he couldn't, and he prayed that the singer had held up his promise that he would.

“Tommy! Jesus fuck, man, thank god you’re okay.” That was not what Nikki had hoped to hear, and the crack in Vince’s intensely relieved voice did nothing to sooth the burning pit in his stomach when he learned that no- Tommy wasn’t with Vince, and he seemed pretty fucking worried about the drummer.

“Listen, Tommy, it was a big fucking misunderstanding. Just stay there and I’m gonna come over there right now and we can go to the hospital-” Nikki couldn't listen to anymore of this, and cut the other man off before he could continue.

“Wait up, Vince, it’s me.” Shocked silence met Nikki’s ear in reply, and god dammit Vince, you choose now to shut up?

“It’s Nikki, Vin. I’m trying to find Tommy, where the fuck is he? Why wouldn’t he be okay?” The bassist could hear the desperation in his own voice as he spoke, and willed Vince to open his fucking mouth because one more minute of not knowing where his scared, hurting boyfriend was was probably going to kill him and-

“Nikki? Oh god, you fucking idiot, it’s so good to hear your voice. I don't know what to do, Nik, Tommy lost his shit on me when he heard you were dead, and has been missing ever since. I’ve never seen him like that, he kept talking all this nonsense about wanting to die too, he ran and he was too fucking fast that long legged motherfucker-” Nikki slammed the phone down back onto it’s base not even bothering to respond as sprinted out the front door and hailed the first taxi that came by, spewing out the address to his home in Van Nuys. He hoped that he would find Tommy at the place that held the majority of their memories.

He also hoped he didn’t fucking puke on the way there, because the thought of Tommy running away after finding out his boyfriend was dead and talking about wanting to join him made Nikki’s stomach lurch more than his own overdose ever could.

Upon arriving at his house, he knew that something was off when he noticed that his front door was unlocked. Now on high alert he walked slowly through the threshold and paused, shocked at the sight in front of him.

The house was absolutely trashed. Not in a ‘party that got too out of hand’ way though, no this was done with intent. Before he could dwell too much on the state of his place he noticed a figure on his couch and the image before him would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Nikki swore his heart stopped for the second time that day upon seeing his boyfriend slumped against the couch, needle sticking out of his arm with blood dried all the way down to his wrist, looking all but dead with his skin a shade paler than normal, and his dark hair falling in front of his face.

Nikki wanted to move, wanted to go shake shake shake Tommy until he woke up, until he saw those beautiful brown eyes that he never failed to get lost in, but his feet were glued to the floor.

This was his fucking fault.

He chose to blow the love of his fucking life off for fucking heroin, continued to do so for fucking months, got himself killed, and wouldn’t it be so fucking ironic if Nikki was given a second chance at life, only to find Tommy dead from a drug overdose?

It was like the universe knew that the only thing worse to Nikki than being dead, is not having Tommy, and it wasn’t hesitating to throw that terrifying piece of information right into Nikki’s face.

Begging his feet to move, his body finally listened to his brain as he stumbled towards Tommy, falling forward onto his hands and knees to crawl himself towards the drummer, fear still knotting up his gut.

His fingers itched to touch Tommy, to move the hair out of his face, feel his neck for a pulse, do something, ANYTHING. It took his mind a few seconds to convince his body to move, and Nikki sobbed in relief when his fingertips came into contact with a warm, very much alive cheek.

Suddenly feeling as if he had control of his body again, Nikki was pulling the needle out of his boyfriend's arm gently, as if moving too quickly could harm the drummer despite his unconscious state. Looking at the drummer's slack face had hot, fat tears running down the older man's face for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Pulling Tommy into his arms, feeling the familiar weight that he had held in his embrace for so many nights was almost too much for Nikki. His own trauma that he had endured that night, as well as looking at the pain that he had caused the love of his life made holding tears in impossible. He made no effort to hold back his sobs as he sniffled, and felt concern bubble up when Tommy let out no acknowledgment of his presence other than a soft grunt that could have easily been missed if the bassist hadn't been so hyper aware of everything involving his boyfriend at the moment.

Tommy hated smack, Nikki knew that. He didn't like the way smack made him feel and he didn't like that it took Nikki away from him, and the needle laying a few feet away where Nikki had tossed it and the blood staining Tommy's arm was a horrible reminder that he did this to Tommy.

Nikki knew he should move Tommy off of the filthy ground, get him out of this mess of debris and broken glass, but for the moment he was just going to hold him, and bury his face in his hair to dry the tears off of his cheeks. Inhaling with a small smile at the pleasant smell that wafted from the drummer’s hair, Nikki pushed his face a little deeper into it to try to get more, as if the smell could take away the absolute shitshow that was going on around him.

Tommy had just gotten a new shampoo recently, and Nikki remembered how much Tommy's eyes had lit up when Nikki commented on it, as if he couldn't believe that the bassist had noticed. Which was fair, considering he barely noticed anything other than when his smack supply was getting low these days.

So Nikki sat there, holding his boyfriend and praying- yes praying- that wherever Tommy was in his heroin induced haze he knew that he wasn't alone.

That Nikki was here, he didn't leave him all alone.

That despite Nikki's harsh words and distant attitude lately, he fucking loved him, and he was so, so sorry. As he sat there holding the younger boy, he finally had the chance to survey the destruction around them. He couldn’t picture his loving and kind Tommy possessing enough anger to cause this big of a mess. His eyes widened as he noticed that among the shattered whiskey bottles and- jesus, was that his record collection?- sat the collection of, now broken, awards that Motley had won over the years.

Could Tommy really love Nikki so much that the news of his ‘death’ could cause this much of a reaction?

Reaching down to cup the drummers lax face in his hand Nikki felt his tears return as he realized that his death would have an effect on his sweet boy. This had to end, because while Nikki could live with killing himself, at least this version of himself, he knew there was no part of him in this life or the afterlife that could live with killing Tommy.

As badly as Nikki’s fingers itched to go find whatever smack he had left in the house and shoot it to bury this overwhelming guilt at seeing his boyfriend passed out from a drug he despised in the middle of all this wreckage, instead Nikki was standing, picking up his lover’s lank form in his arms to make his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

Carrying Tommy proved to be harder than anticipated because despite the drummer’s naturally skinny form, Nikki’s own body had gotten dangerously thin these days due to his diet which consisted entirely of drugs.

Nevertheless, Nikki made it up the stairs on sheer willpower alone- he was NOT letting Tommy sleep in that fucking wreckage. Laying Tommy on top of the covers as gently as he could, supporting his boyfriend’s lulling head, Nikki wanted to cry at just how much Tommy looked like he was just sleeping.

So peaceful. But of course he was peaceful. Tommy was in a world where his boyfriend was alive, hadn’t overdosed on heroin, hadn’t selfishly chose drugs over someone he claimed to love every single fucking day.

Nikki lay down beside Tommy, gently rolling Tommy over so he could spoon him from behind, holding him tightly to his chest just like he did every night when he slept.

Nikki let his tears fall, hoping and praying that when Tommy woke up, he would recognize the familiarity of their position, and recognize the arms that held him like this.

Nikki pressed a kiss into Tommy’s hair on the back of his head, trying desperatly to keep his tired eyelids open as he listened to his boyfriend’s breathing, wondering how the fuck he was going to fix this, how he was going to remedy this situation when he didn’t even deserve Tommy in the first place.

——-

When Tommy’s eyes blearily opened hours later, the first thing that registered was- fuck his head hurt. The second thing that registered was the flood of overwhelming emotions and the sting of hot tears when he remembered the events of the previous night. The third thing that registered that he was in Nikki’s bed and someone was behind him, holding on for dear life- but wait- he knew those arms and it couldn't be true-

Turning over in the tight hold the older man had on him, Tommy felt lightheaded as his eyes met the shimmering green ones that he had been chasing in his split second decision to shoot up Nikki’s remaining stash.

Nikki looked horrible, he was covered in a sheen of sweat that Tommy very clearly recognized as the withdrawal sweats, and his eyes were bloodshot from what looked like a combination of exhaustion and tears.

“I’m dead”. Tommy croaked out, because that was the only reasonable explanation. This had to be heaven, but fuck, who let heaven give him such a bad fucking migraine? Or maybe it was hell, and they let him wake up in Nikki’s arms, only to drag him away later. Tommy didn’t think he could survive that though, even in hell.

An appropriate punishment though, for allowing his boyfriend to die thinking Tommy didn’t want him around anymore.

Tommy watched Nikki’s face contort with the most pained expression he had ever seen from the bassist, and his breath caught when Nikki shook his head.

“You’re not dead, baby boy, and neither am I.”

Tommy couldn't speak, so he settled for just staring into Nikki’s eyes. His beautiful green eyes, that were always Tommy’s favorite part of Nikki. They looked so real and so alive, but Tommy was afraid to believe.

“They brought me back baby, the EMT’s brought me back. I’m… I’m so fucking sorry.”

From there it was all fists clenched into T-shirt’s, tears soaking into hair, sobs getting lost into shoulders and hurried kisses pressed against heated skin.

“This won’t happen again baby.. You.. you mean so much more to me than anything, Tommy, anything, and I swear I’m getting off of this shit for you.”

“I didn’t mean it Nik, not a goddamn fucking word-“

“Stop baby, you don't have to explain, I know. It was all me, I was an asshole, I put the thing that was gonna fucking kill me above the thing trying to save me, and I’m so sorry, I swear to fucking god Tommy, never again.”

Tommy pulled his head out of its hiding spot in Nikki’s shoulder, and one look at the bassist’s teary, but determined face let Tommy know that yeah, Nikki meant it. He was so used to Nikki’s lying face by now, the face he gets when he just tells Tommy what he wants to hear, and this isn’t it.

So Tommy thumbed away his boyfriend’s tears, feeling his own slip down his face as he pressed a desperate, longing kiss to Nikki’s lips, smiling as he felt them tremble as they pushed back with just as much desperation.

And just like that, Tommy could breathe again.

#nikki sixx x tommy lee #tommy lee x nikki sixx #tommy/nikki #Terrorcest

84 notes · View notes