#i have been reading that he would try to do his awful Last Goodbye Tour lmao. probably talk with thirteen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gucciwins · 2 years

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maybe it's best...

paris is known as the city of love, but why is your heartbreaking

Word count: 10740

A/N: Hi friends! As you can see by the word count i have no control when it comes to harry and bel. this was requested by a lovely anon about wanting some angst and well i hope i delivered.

Warnings: panic attack, angst

you can read more of harry and bel here love on tour series sending you lots of love 🤍🤍🤍

New York City, New York

There’s always something new happening in your life. The never-ending cycle of work, rest, and repeat. As much fun as you had with Harry during his Wembley shows in London, getting to celebrate with friends and families, you had to leave. Work did not wait for you as much as you wished it did.

The only good thing about leaving Harry was that there was already a set date for when you would see him again. Paris is where you would reunite as Harry decided he wanted to spend a few days with you in the City of Love as cheesy as he was because after you had to begin pre-production for a new movie. You’d head out early and leave the day after the show as he would be heading to Belgium.

Luckily for you, both would be busy, meaning time would move faster. Harry had stadiums to sing and dance to while you had scripts to memorize and photoshoots to be taken. You were in New York shooting with Tyler Mitchell for your cover of Harper’s Bazaar. The interview had already taken place; the last part was the photo session. You were glad Tyler was available as he is someone you loved working with, as he had a way of capturing the subject through his lens.

You were glad to be back in New York for a week enjoying all the walking you got to do. Many paparazzi are lingering around, but you have proved stealthy when moving around. Naomi and Sarai were busy camping in Yosemite, getting ready to hike Half Dome, a hike that could take up to 10-12 hours. You did not envy them. All you wished for was they had a great time and returned home safely.

New York alone would not be a problem. It meant you had time for things you hadn’t done in the longest time, such as visiting a Broadway show or visiting your god-daughter Violet and her father, Alex. There were new restaurants you wanted to try, and you were happy to do that alone.

You had finally finished with your shoot. It was outfit after outfit. It was fun when you started, but new hairstyles and makeup get repetitive after the first few hours. Thankfully, the team you were working with made it fun, and as soon as they called it for the day, everyone cheered for a job well done. You made sure to say goodbye to the entire crew as you were leaving, thanking them for being part of the project.

Silas, your driver, had asked if you wanted to go back home or out for some dinner when your phone rang. You felt your heart rate pick up at the chance of it being Harry but looked at the time on the dash and knew it wouldn’t be him as in Oslo sleeping off another successful show. You spoke with him earlier in the day before the shoot wishing him luck and that you’d be thinking of him. Harry sent you a photo of him in his outfit for the day, and you were left in awe of how gorgeous he looked.

Instead, the caller read Genesis, your co-star in the newest season of The Umbrella Academy, that your friends and family had congratulated you on the show’s success. You had to do a few interviews because the story was not focused on you. That’s something you reminded Viola, who assured you that the number of talk shows and interviews would be smaller, and thankfully they had been.

“Hi lovely, how are you?” You greet when you connect the call.

“Y/N, amor. I’m good. Heard you’re in New York,” Genesis cuts straight to the point.

You laugh, “I am. Wrapped up for the day, deciding what to eat for dinner.”

Someone is whispering beside her; it sounds oddly familiar. “How great. Would you like to join us at Sushi Seki for dinner?”

“On first?”

“The very one.”

“I can be there in twenty,” you offer.

“Perfect.”

“Who’s us?”

There’s arguing, then a new voice reaches your ear as you finish giving Silas directions to the restaurant.

“It’s your favorite person,” the voice greets.

A smile overtakes your face, “David!”

“The one and only.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to squeeze you both.”

“Feeling is mutual,” they both shout.

You make it under the promised time. Silas says he’ll only be a few blocks away to call or text him when you’re ready to go home. He’s an older man who loves telling stories about the city he moved to at eighteen. His wife and kids are his pride and joy, and as much as you offered him time to retire to spend time with his wife, he says she’s not ready to be done teaching and needs something to do for the time being.

“Have a great dinner, Miss Belmonte.”

“You’re welcome to come in,” you offer.

He shakes his head, laughing, “as always, thank you, but not today.”

“Another time,” you make him promise.

“Of course.”

You head into the restaurant giving Genesis’ name; the young hostess walks you, assuring you that your waiter will be over soon.

“Y/N Belmonte!” David shoots out of his seat, pulling you into a bear hug and knocking the wind out of you. Genesis bumps him out of the way, takes you into her arms, and then ushers you into the seat.

You laugh because these are your friends, you missed having them around. As actors, they understand the constant travel from location to location and the never-ending press interviews. But here, you get to just tell dumb stories and catch up.

You and Genesis have not spoken as often, but it’s clear time is not a factor as she fills you in on her life. While you and David are constantly communicating, from emails to texts to having your assistants in contact. You are starring in a romance film that begins filming in Spring 2023. You and David are similar; both Hispanic, embracing your culture and showing that part of ourselves in each role we play. You’ve admired his work for a long time, but after working with him, you’re an even bigger fan. He will say the same about you, always making sure to sing your praise even when you tell him not to.

You remember speaking with Matthew Lopez, the screenwriter and director of this romantic movie, and how he approached you to be the lead after letting you read the script, and you were hooked. The screentest with David was easily the best you had, and it was a no-brainer to you and Matthew, who deserved the role. All three of you were excited to embark on this journey, as your Hispanic background was something you all shared. It would make for an even more safe and more diverse set.

David said you spoke a lot about your boyfriend, Harry, but he didn’t blame you because he sounded like a fantastic partner. He admitted to being a fan and hopefully would get to meet him soon. This project was still under wraps, not a single word out about it, and you were all hoping for it to stay that way until next year after Matthew had finished filming his directorial debut, Red White and Royal Blue. Not a single soul knew about the project besides your managers and assistants that had to coordinate the shooting days.

You shared a knowing smile with David as Genesis demanded to hear all about your boyfriend and how you bought a house in London.

“She is half English, you know,” David tells her.

Genesis reaches over to slap his shoulder. “Cabrón. Claro que se.”

“Hey, no need to call me a dumbass,” he pouts.

“Be nice. He wears his heart on his sleeve, remember,” you joke because as much as you love David, you never know what’s going on in his head.

“Ha ha.” David rolls his eyes.

“Back to Bel,”

You pout, “I feel like all I’ve done is talk.”

“That’s cause we never see you anymore,” Genesis reminds you.

“Miss booked and busy,” David teases.

“Always a phone call away.” They give you a stare, and you sigh, “fine, always a text away.”

After dinner, you all called it quits having busy days planned for tomorrow. Silas says he should be there in five, while Genesis says you must get breakfast together alone before leaving. You promise to squeeze her into your busy schedule.

That leaves you and David chatting as he waits for your driver to arrive. He promises he doesn’t mind waiting for his mother would kill him if she knew he left you alone waiting for your ride. Conversation flows easy; you’re laughing at a dumb joke he made that you don’t notice a camera pointed in your direction or the flash that accompanied it.

Your team would not inform you about the photos that were quick to spread through all types of fan accounts because it’s not something you ever worried about, and it wasn’t affecting you negatively for it to be mentioned. Social media is not something you concern yourself over; if anything, Instagram was the only form of media you used because you loved seeing all of Harry’s photos. Also, the easiest way to keep up with your friends and family.

Only a few more days in New York, then you’d finally be home.

Oslo, Norway

Harry loved performing.

His mum always told him he was made for the stage, made to make an impact on everything around him.

Here he was performing in sold-out stadiums filled for him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d get to do this again, but here he is achieving these dreams. Even better is that he’s so loved by his family and friends but most importantly by his girlfriend, Bel.

Bel was his best friend. You spoiled him by joining his US tour for a few months because now, whenever he turns a corner, he hopes to find you. Yet, knew that was not possible. He was lucky enough that Bel joined him for the start of the tour. Where Bel got to see him play his first stadium and meet more of his family and friends they didn’t see during the holidays.

Harry had said goodnight to the band and headed to his room for the night, ready to travel to France tomorrow.

As he lay in bed, he pulled out his phone seeing a text message from Jeff. It linked him to Twitter, where an E News headline was speaking about Bel; curious why Jeff sent it, he opened the link.

There was a photo of Bel looking as beautiful as ever from one of her past red carpets and alongside her was someone that wasn’t familiar to Harry. He had a lovely face and an even nicer beard.

The headline read: Y/N Belmonte and David Castañeda set to star in a Romance film set to start filming Spring 2023. Here’s what we know so far.

He exited that one only to find another: Sparks lying between the newest co-stars.

Harry frowns at his phone; he doesn’t know about any new movies you’d be doing or who this person you were spotted with was. You had told him your upcoming schedule but not your future plans. He’d still be touring, and you’d be filming. It meant more coordinating schedules and facetime dates. He’d do anything for you, but there were times he wished he could have you at his sides.

He went back online and saw your name trending, and right below you was David Castañeda. All everyone seemed to be talking about was Y/N and David. Harry was curious as to what fans were saying.

@fan101 THIS IS THE BEST DAY!!!!! Hispanic actors taking over!!

@fan2 David y Y/N irán por el oscar (David and Y/N going for the oscar)

@fan3 First, we get David and Y/N having dinner. Now they’re in a movie together

@fan1 I’M SHIPPING THEM SO HARD

@fan4 WHY DO THEY MAKE THE CUTEST COUPLE

@fan20 THE CONTENT WE WILL BE GETTING

@fan44 why do they look like the perfect couple??? sorry to her boyfriend, but damn, you got competition.

The tweets were endless. All talking about what a lovely couple you’d made together with David and singing his praise about how he’s a respectable man who would treat her well as he didn’t ever post about his relationship. Harry felt his heart sink because their relationship was out there, yet they wanted to see her with someone else.

Harry knew he should close the app and go to bed, but it’s like he couldn’t. Through scrolling, he found a fan account that tweeted a photo of Bel and David hugging and another where he helped her into the car. It looked intimate and like the fan invaded a private moment. He remembered you mentioned dinner with friends but didn’t know it was just one.

Below that tweet was paparazzi photos from a few hours ago. There was a thread of images. The first showed Bel in a bookshop smiling down at a book. His pretty girl.

The next few made him feel queasy. David was standing next to you, looking at the book you were holding. In his hand were around three or four more books. A few more showed you paying for your books and taking the bag. Except when you walked out, you were no longer holding the bag. No, David was seen holding the bag as he held the door open for you. A few more of you strolling away, oblivious to the cameras around you.

Harry closed his phone after that. He had seen enough. It was clear what he was seeing. At least he thought it was. His mind was clouded, and he knew he was jealous. Going to sleep is what he should be doing as it was close to midnight, but instead, he pulled up your contact number and rang you. It was close to six pm for you. There was no way you wouldn’t answer.

He didn’t know what he wanted to say. You must have seen this; Viola must have shown you, or Emerson must have texted you to update you and address the situation. Harry had no idea what was going on, and he hated that. All he knew was that he wanted to hear your voice. You answered on the third ring.

“Amor, hi. A bit late, no?”

“Missed you, is all.” Harry sighs as he hears you giggle.

“Miss you, too, amor.”

“How’s New York?”

“Busy. You know the city never sleeps.”

“Mhm.”

“Violet and Alex say hello.”

“That’s sweet. You’ve only met up with them so far.”

“No, I met up with other friends. Remember I mentioned it a day or so ago.”

Harry notices you don’t name any names.

“Anyone, I know?”

You frown; he’s never asked about that before. “No, actually, haven’t introduced you to them. They weren’t in the city when we were here in November.”

“Okay.”

You notice the tone in his voice now. Something is clearly going on.

“H?”

“Yes, love?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he’s quick to reply.

Another sign.

After your fight in Los Angeles, he got better at communicating with you. He wasn’t as hesitant to share, and neither were you. The trust you had built together had come a long way. Which surprised you why now he wasn’t willing to continue to do the same.

“Was it a bad show?”

“No, it was a good night. Had the best time,” he mutters.

You sigh, “that’s great. I’m happy to hear that.”

Silence falls between you both.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I understand.” You pause, hoping he understands you don’t want to pressure him if he’s not comfortable. “I’m here for you. If you do.”

“Bel.”

“We can talk about the show. Or how Violet loves drawing now.”

Harry knows you’re trying to help, but it only upsets him for some reason. You were out essentially with someone else, and everyone is calling it a date. He knows he shouldn’t listen to the media and how effortlessly they twist words and can manipulate photos, but this hit too close. He didn’t know how insecure he had felt until he saw the images. Until he felt like he might really lose you.

“Alex says he had to stick construction paper along the walls because it’s her favorite place to draw. He didn’t want to risk the white walls to her wild drawings.” You share, laughing at the story, hoping to get him laughing with you as well.

It doesn’t work.

“I’m excited to see you, H.”

Harry cracks a small smile, one he wishes you could see, “three days.”

“Three days,” you repeat.

“Paris is nice this time of year.”

“Yeah, think we’ll have a chance to walk around? Visit a museum or two,” you sound excited at the thought, as if you’d both be able to blend in with no fans approaching you for the day.

And just like that, all his feelings are back. Harry wants to take you on museum dates and not worry about who sees them. He wants to be a regular guy taking his girlfriend out on dates, but neither of them live normal lives.

“Bel, I–”

“You alright, H?” Your voice is full of concern.

“Saw the news about the new movie,” he says.

“Movie?”

“With Matthew Lopez as director.”

“Shit.”

Harry frowns at your response. “Did you not know you were cast?”

You chuckle under your breath, “I knew.” He hears a lot of shuffling before you talk again. “The news wasn’t supposed to break. The script is being finalized as well as securing shooting locations.”

“Oh, that’s–” Harry doesn’t know what to say. Then why were you with your co-star?

“Fuck, Viola says it’s all okay. Only positive feedback,” you breathe out, relieved.

“Helps that you were spotted with your co-star,” Harry mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“Your co-star David. Paparazzi photos of you online everywhere from when you had dinner together to your bookstore date,” Harry tells you, not holding back his anger anymore.

That’s when it all clicks for you, as you pull up Twitter on your laptop and see everything everyone is saying. Nothing terrible, which makes things easier to navigate.

“David and I met when shooting Umbrella Academy, H. Beginning of the year, just friends.” You try to assure him.

“You’re not spotted with any other of the cast,” he argues back.

“Whoever took that photo must have not got when Genesis was there another co-star. He stayed until my car arrived only two minutes later.” You wait for a response but get nothing.

Harry sits there, taking in all the information. Just a friend, he has lots of friends. He doesn’t have any friendships that look at him like David looked at you.

“And the bookstore?”

“He was leaving the city today. He wanted a gift for his mother, and I found some I was interested in. That’s all. I met up with Alex after leaving him.” You feel sick to your stomach because you’re defending yourself. You have no idea what he’s thinking, but explaining who you were with and what the photo looks like leaves a nasty pit in your stomach.

Harry stays silent. He believes you; of course, he does. There is no reason for you to lie to him.

“You should post a photo or something,” he throws it out there.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Harry seemed to have caught you off guard; he has no problem explaining what he means. “To remind them who you’re dating.”

“That–that doesn’t seem necessary.”

“It does if you’re being shipped with him.” His voice was stern, as if this wasn’t something he’d change his mind about.

“People online don’t matter. Who cares what they say?”

“I care,” Harry shouts.

“Since when,” he hates that your tone is neutral. He hates not being able to see you and see everything you’re feeling right now. “You just want to stake your claim, Harry.”

“No.”

He isn’t, right? That’s not why he asked you to do that.

“It’s no one’s business.” You remind him, just as you had done many months before.

“It is when they are disrespecting our relationship.”

“H,” you breathe softly, “it’s no one’s business but ours.”

“It’s like you’re hiding me,” he says, offended.

“I’m not causing an uproar just because you’re feeling jealous.”

“It’s not that.”

“Yes, it is. You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t see the photos. You didn’t want to talk to me. You wanted me to do as you said and make the world see that I’m yours and not his. Because you knew my words weren’t enough to assure you. And honestly, Harry, I don’t know what that says about us.”

“Bel–”

“Harry, you’re jealous. You should go to bed.” Your tone had no room for argument.

“Bel, you aren’t listening!”

“No, I am. You’re jealous and have already decided how this should be fixed by photos of some PDA as if I’m not flying out to Paris to see you in a matter of days. As if your team doesn’t post behind the scenes of us.”

“This would fix everything.”

“You just want me to agree.” You’re fed up. You heard enough.

“No, of course not.”

“But you’ll be upset if I don’t.”

His silence is answer enough.

Harry can’t stop running his hand through his hair; he wishes you were having this conversation in person.

“Maybe it’s best I stay here,” you whisper.

Harry lets the words sink in. Bel doesn’t want to come to Paris, doesn’t want to see him.

The silence must last too long because he hears a sniffle through the phone and feels his heart crack.

“What?” Harry pushes the covers off of him and paces the small room of his tour bus. “Bel, please come,” he pleads.

It’s like you’re not even listening to a word he said.

“You need to think this over.”

“No, please. Can’t leave it like this.”

“I’ll let Luis know about the changes.”

Harry feels the tears tumbling over because how did he mess this up so fast.

How did he lose you?

“Darling, love, baby,” he begs.

“It’s late. You should sleep.”

“Bel,” Harry cries into the phone.

You clear your throat, and he knows you’re crying. It’s all his fault. He messed up. Now he can’t even fix it.

“I love you.”

Bel hangs up before he can say it back. He stares down at his phone and cries. He crawls into bed and calls you back. It rings and rings until he gets your voicemail. He tries again. This time it’s straight to voicemail.

Harry doesn’t know what to do.

There’s no way he can get on a plane to fly to you. He would in a heartbeat if he knew Jeff wouldn’t kill him. If he didn’t have hundreds of people employed relying on him.

All he can do is wallow in pity and hope you’d answer his call for lunch as you’ve done every day for the past week.

New York City, New York

At two o’clock, your phone rings just as it has since you left Harry. It was lunchtime for him and breakfast for you. Just yesterday, you would have answered the call in a heartbeat, but now you watch it ring until it stops. Everything in you wants to pick up the call and apologize to tell him that you’ll still be getting on the flight, but the hurt you felt last night wins over.

He rings you once more before he stops. It’s a new ringtone now, not the one you have designated for Harry, and you peek over to see who’s calling. First, it’s Jeff, followed by Tommy and Sarah.

You sigh; of course, you won’t answer. Those are your mutual friends, but at the end of the day, they were Harry’s first. You were in no mood to hear from them. The two people you did want to talk to were in Yosemite with no signal. It felt like you were on your own, and you hated that.

You hadn’t felt this alone since losing your grandparents. There was no one you wanted to reach out to. No one could help. It was just you and all your feelings. So that’s what you did. You ordered take-out and cried in your apartment because you wished to never feel this alone ever again.

It was consuming you. You knew it would if you didn’t do something about it. The thing was, right now, you didn’t care.

The days seemed to blink by. You were supposed to get on a plane to Paris in a few hours. Your suitcase had been backed long before your fight. There were endless messages from Harry and all his friends on tour with him asking how I was doing and that they were excited to see me. All messages were left unread, as were the calls.

His sister called you, but you chose to ignore her as well. They were best friends, and you knew she had to know what was happening. Harry told her everything. A call with her and you’d be getting on a flight to Harry because that’s what a good sister does stand by your side through everything.

You miss him, but that phone call hurt.

You felt how much he questioned you and your relationship. You thought no one could hurt your relationship. You never expected each other to be the cause.

Before you could continue wallowing in self-pity, your phone rings, and you’re quick to answer as you hear a familiar Spice Girls song fill the quiet room.

“It’s safe to say you survived then.” A genuine smile takes over their face as Naomi’s laughter settles in.

“Haha, my body feels like it didn’t.”

“Photos prove otherwise.”

Naomi groans, “Sarai was adamant we posted. I was crying coming down the mountain, knowing I had all those miles back to camp.”

“No wonder she captured your backside,” you tease.

“Yeah, yeah. I was calling for something else.”

You pout, although she can’t see. “Not because you miss me.”

“Checked to see if you’re all packed for Paris.”

And just like that, the facade is gone. Naomi’s call wasn’t random. It was a check-in.

“What do you know?”

“Hmmm, what do you mean?” You heard her voice rise an octave. She was always a bad liar.

“Naomi, we both know you can’t lie. Should have let Sarai take the call.”

“Fine, fine. He’s just worried, and so am I. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you were in the forest with no signal.”

“Good point.” You hear her take a deep breath muttering to someone next to her. “Who did you call?”

You fall silent. Think of a name, any name.

“Bel,” she sighs in disappointment.

“Who could I call? You and Sarai were unavailable, and as much as I know, I have other people they don’t know enough to understand. And those who do…were with him right now. I know they’d all have told me to get on a flight to him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do. They’re his friend,” you remind Namoi.

“Don’t do this to yourself. They are your friends as well. You just haven’t given them the chance to prove that to you.”

And that doesn’t sit well with you because Naomi is right. You thought they’d all side with Harry but knowing Harry, he wouldn’t have shared anything about your argument. They were trying to be good friends, and you foolishly pushed them away.

“I–I didn’t think about it like that.”

“And that’s okay. You’re not used to having people there for you, but they are.”

It’s always been hard to accept others cared for you; with Harry, it came easy, yet you ran away from him at the first sign of trouble.

“Harry didn’t call me.”

You frown, “then who did.”

“Well, he did. But Mitch called first because you had ignored everyone’s calls, including his.”

“I didn’t know Mitch called.” The grimace on your face grows because you know he must have called when you shut your phone off.

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me about the fight, but you owe yourself to figure it out, whether by giving him a call or getting on that flight.”

Naomi tells you no longer beating around the bush.

“Do you think he’d want me there?”

“I think if he didn’t have sold-out concerts lined up night after night, he would already be in New York asking you to talk.”

“He is a big rom-com fan.”

“We know,” she jokes.

“Okay. I… I’m going to get on that flight in a few hours to Paris,” You tell her confidently, and for the first time in days, you feel peace settle over you but know you won’t be okay until you’ve spoken with him.

“Take a nap. Knowing you, you probably haven’t slept since you last talked with him.”

“I’ll do that.”

And with a clear head, you closed your eyes, knowing that you’d be on a flight to Paris in a few hours and one step closer to being with Harry. It would all be alright.

You woke up to a buzzing by your head and knew it was your alarm. Time to make it for your flight. The strange thing was that it didn’t keep on ringing and had you sitting up in seconds. You picked up your phone and saw the time. It read: 11:10. Your flight was at 11:30. The buzzing was a text from Harry.

Harry

I’ll be at the airport. xx

Oh no.

You were going to miss your flight.

Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Why did you decide to take a nap? Why didn’t your alarm go off? Why didn’t you wait to sleep on the plane?

Silas tried to get you there quickly and safely, but you knew it’d be too late. Your flight would be leaving without you. Harry would think you gave up on him after a fight. A fight that you could both easily resolve. It broke your heart.

Rushing into the airport, it was crowded, and there were people everywhere. You checked in and headed to your terminal, hoping it was delayed, but there had been no messages on your phone alerting you about delays, only a single message to enjoy your flight.

The gate door was closed, and the worker lingering around gave you a pitied look and helped guide you to the counter to look for a new ticket.

“What do you mean there’s nothing?”

The lady named Suzan gave you a polite smile; this wasn’t her fault. It was yours. “France is a popular destination this time of year. I’m afraid all outgoing flights are full. I can get you a flight for Friday.”

“That’s too late,” you whispered, feeling the tears coming but trying your best to hold them back until you stepped away from the counter and the long line behind you.

“I’m sorry, Miss Belmonte. We can offer you flying credit if the new date doesn’t work.”

Harry would be in Amsterdam by then. None of this was working out. You were tempted to call Harry, but a big part of you feared he’d think you did this on purpose because you didn’t want to fix this problem.

You walked away from the counter, wandering until you found a quiet corner to sit in. It helped that it was late at night. No one was around. You should have left the airport but leaving felt like giving up.

They could help. They always knew what to do. You pulled your phone out with a shaky hand and pulled up the second contact of your favorite list.

“Please tell me you’re on a flight to Paris.” That is the first thing Saraí said to you.

No words come out of you as you’re choking back a sob. You messed up. Now you were going to lose him.

“I missed it. I missed the flight. I overslept, and there are no flights.” You sob into the phone. You don’t know what to do. “She says everything’s booked as of now. Until Friday.”

“There’s always something we can do.”

You cry harder because you’re at a loss. You’re alone in an airport. You’re tired of being alone. You want someone to hold your hand, wrap you in a hug, and assure you that he’ll be happy to see you even if you arrive later.

“I’m going to call Jeff.” They try their best to assure you.

“No–not Jeff. He’s with him, I know. Not him. Harry will be mad if he knew I missed the flight.” You’re sure of it.

“Bel, he wouldn’t.” Sarai tries to get the idea out of your head, but you’re insistent.

Soon you can’t even hear a word they’re saying. Your chest feels heavy, and your ears are ringing. It’s been a while since you felt this way, and the tears won’t stop.

You can’t breathe, and you’re all alone.

“Bel? Bel, what’s going on?”

“H-h-urts.” You choke out.

“Cariño, necesito que respires.”

Sarai’s voice sounds fuzzy, and you can only make out parts.

“Respira profundo. Respira profundo, mi cielo.”

“Ple-e-ease,” you whimper.

“Y/N!”

That’s enough to break the haze.

“Sarai,” you mutter.

“Good girl, that’s me. Follow me, breathe in.”

You try to do as they say, but it’s hard. “Can’t.”

“You can. Remember to breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven and out for eight. Think we can do that.”

“Try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

You put your free hand over your heart, trying to find some strength. Saraí guides you, and you try to follow.

Breathe In.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Again.

You don’t know how many times you do it, but you feel your heart slow down. The room no longer feels like it’s closing down on you.

You did it.

You’re okay. Or you will be.

“Just meet breathing, cariño.”

“Thank you,” you sniff.

“Nothing to thank. You’d do it for me.”

You feel even more comfort hearing their breathing on the other end.

“Now, keep breathing, and we’ll get Glenne to help. Right, she was still in London.”

You hum. Last you knew, she was.

“Okay, I’m going to hang up. I have to talk with her.”

You whimper at the thought of them hanging up on you. Saraí instantly hears it and backtracks.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll stay with you. Naomi is going to call Glenne. We’ll get you to Harry, I promise.”

Sitting alone in a quiet corner of the airport, crying into your knees, you didn’t have much hope. There was no way he’d forgive you for this.

Paris, France

Your flight is in a few hours. I’ll be at the airport. xx

The message was left on read. He took that as a sign, at first as a positive one, that you were on your way to him. Harry waited for the text that said you boarded the plane, but it didn’t come. He had faith that you still go on the plane for him, for their relationship. All he had to do was wait a few hours.

Harry had Tommy drive him to the airport, and together they waited. He was anxious as time ticked by, and he didn’t hear a word from Bel. An hour after your plane arrived, there was no sign of you, and that’s when Harry knew he really messed up. That you didn’t get on the plane with him because you were still upset, rightfully so. He couldn’t blame you.

Harry climbs back into the black SUV and sighs. No one says a thing as they drive him back to his hotel. He had made plans for the entire day with you. First, it’d start with freshening up in the hotel and hopefully clearing everything up. Then after that, he booked a private tour at Musée Jacquemart-André. The estate turned mansion was filled with hundreds of paintings that housed paintings from Italian to French artists. After that, depending on how hungry you felt, he’d take you to one of his favorite restaurants that Helene had shown him a few years back. Followed by a macaroon class because you told him you always wanted to learn how to make some and what better way to learn than in France. The day would end with a private dinner on top of the Eiffel Tower, cheesy, he knows, but you would have indulged him.

All that has gone to waste. Now he gets to sit with this misery that upset you so much you preferred to stay oceans away from him.

Arriving at his hotel, Jeff was waiting for him, clearly eager to get him to work or talk more of tour, but he wasn’t in the mood, not when he could have been spending the day with you.

“H, Bel—”

Harry cuts Jeff off, “she’s not coming.”

“That’s the thing she—”

“Jeff,” Harry sighs, defeated. “Enough. I fucked up, and she’s not coming. I don’t want to talk about it. Not with a show tomorrow.”

Jeff frowns but stays quiet, respecting his wishes.

“Do you want to be alone then?”

Harry thinks about it for a second. He doesn’t want to be alone but feels like he deserves to be because that’s how you are right now.

“It’d be best.”

And so he spent the day he should have spent with you by his side alone. No one would be able to cheer him up.

Not that he wanted them to. Not if they weren’t you.

Harry laid down on the bed he was looking forward to sharing with you and stared up at the ceiling playing back every moment he had with you. From first spotting you in the crowd to your first kiss to dancing with his mum and sister side-stage at Wembley Stadium.

A knock on his door breaks him out of his trance, and his heart skips a beat. You could be behind the door, waiting for him to let you in. He hurries out of bed, removes the lock, and swings the door open, hopeful to see you, but instead, he sees Jeff and Tommy, who frown at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” he mutters, moving back to let them in, but they don’t budge.

“H, we got to go,” Jeff tells Harry, seeing his sluggish movement.

“Where?”

“To the arena.”

“Already?”

Harry sees Jeff mumble something to Tommy, but he’s too sad to care.

“Yes, uh, did you sleep last night, buddy?” Tommy asks.

Sleep.

Did he? He doesn’t think so. Maybe he did when he was thinking of Bel. Did he really not feel the hours go by?

“That’s alright, H. We’ll get you a strong coffee, and Ayae will take care of this pretty face.”

Harry nods because it’s all he can do. He goes into his room, slips on his shoes, and grabs his dead phone.

“My phone’s dead.” He announces, not knowing if his friends are even listening.

“I’ll charge it for you.” Tommy grabs it out of his hand and slips it into his pocket.

One less thing to worry about. There was no one he wanted to talk to, not if they weren’t you.

"My mum is coming down. Make sure everything is alright for her." Harry reminds them, he might be lost in his head but he wants everything to be smooth for those he can take care of.

"We got you, H. Anne will be in good hands." Tommy promises.

“Come on, there’s a show to get ready for,” Jeff told him, patting him on his back. He owed it to his fans as much as he didn’t have the energy.

Paris, France

Murphy’s law was real and of all days to prove true was when you were traveling to meet your boyfriend and hoping this argument wasn’t enough to lose him. You knew it wouldn’t be, but a large part of you was scared that all he needed was a way out, and this was it.

You slept in the airport’s luxurious lounge room while waiting for your flight. By some miracle, Glenne was able to get you a flight. They told you something about her speaking with Viola, but you were too out of it to listen. All you were thankful for was that you’d be on a plane to Paris in a few hours.

Except before it could be set to take off, it got delayed two times, making you depart three hours later. This means you were assigned to arrive an hour before the show was set to start, not enough time to talk with Harry like you wished.

Upon a smooth plane ride where you slept too anxious to do anything else, there was a delay on the tarmac because of a standard security clearance inside the airport. The flight attendants assured everyone everything would be okay, but it wouldn’t be for you as you were trying to make it to Harry’s show before it started. The European Tarmac law was that they couldn’t begin to depart you until five hours had passed.

That’s when you decided to try to call Harry, you didn’t know what he’d say, but you desperately needed to hear his voice. The phone didn’t even have a chance to ring. It went straight to voicemail. That hurt, and you know he must have felt the same when you ignored his calls.

You went with the next best thing and sent Jeff a text updating him about what was happening. Jeff assured you a car would be there whenever you got out. One thing you could count on, enough to have hope.

Two hours later, the all-clear was given, and the airport was as chaotic as you expected. As you tried your best to make it out of the airport thankful, you only packed your carry-on. The one Harry gifted you for Christmas a Gucci one-of-a-kind with different patches that held special meaning in your relationship.

The show has now started, and you were just getting in the car. It was someone you didn’t know, but they assured you that you were in safe hands and to relax because the arena was at least thirty minutes away from the Paris Orly airport.

Bel

on my way to the arena. wish me luck xx

Glenne

You don’t need it. I love you.

Bel

fingers crossed. i love you xx

The closer you got to the arena, the faster you felt your heart rate speed up. The sound was loud even from the outside.

“Miss, they’re waiting for you at the door,” Carl, the driver for the arena, told you, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you.”

The door is opened for you, and Tommy pulls you into a tight hug as soon as you get out, swinging your bag over his shoulder. “I am so glad to see you.”

“Same here. I assume Glenne filled you in on my missed flight,” you wince, knowing how upset Harry must be.

“Don’t sweat it. The boss will be as good as new when he sees you.”

You smile and hope that’s true. It never got old walking backstage and seeing all the work done as hundreds of members move around. You get a few stares and are stopped to say hi to a few people, but you don’t mind. That is until you hear Harry singing “Lights Up” loud and clear and know he must be prancing around everywhere.

“Can I–where’s a good place to watch?”

“Side stage is always good,” Jeff answers from behind you.

Although you’ve had ups and downs with Harry’s manager, he’s been accommodating and understanding to get you here today. You grin at him and pull him in a brief hug.

“Maybe with Anne and Ben,” Tommy offers.

As much as you love Anne and were dying to see her, that’s not where you needed to be. You wanted him to see you, wanted him to know that you did make it.

“Might sound crazy, but I actually…I want to be in the crowd.”

“No.”

“Not happening.”

Everyone is quick to say no, causing you to pout, but it doesn’t stop you.

“Fine.” You cross your arms, staring them down, “how about where Lloyd and Anthony take photos? That walkway,” you propose.

Jeff and Tommy share a look, and you know it’s a yes.

“Great, what direction am I walking in?” You raise an eyebrow, ready for either of them to take you down there.

Tommy sighs, “come on then.”

You squeal, giving Tommy a tight squeeze, and wave bye to Jeff, who slips a pass over your head before you get too far.

“Just in case,” Jeff shrugs.

You hurry, following close behind Tommy, who does his best to get you there quickly, and once you hear the start of “Satellite” and the roar of the crowd, you know you made it. That you’re in Paris supporting your boyfriend.

No matter what happens, you’re proud of him. Seeing him do what he loves each night is always a privilege.

You start bouncing, feeling the music pass through you. There’s something Harry had you start wearing was earplugs as he didn’t want your hearing to get affected as his had through the years. You forgot to get them out of your bag this time and were left to feel the heaviness of the guitar, felt Sarah’s drums pass through you. It felt louder than ever.

Harry looked gorgeous on stage. He was wearing trainers that allowed him to run more than he ever had before. Jeff stated that he aged five years each night because of all Harry’s jumps and runs. It didn’t help that Harry already wore knee support under his trousers, but hey, as long as he wasn’t getting hurt, you were all for it. The bedazzled cherries on a white ringer tee shined bright under the arena lights. The outfit matched well with his black and white striped trousers. This was a look you were happy to see in person, not through a phone screen.

Tommy stands with you, which you’re thankful for. A lot of fans had turned to look at you. They smiled and turned their phones to you, but ultimately all the attention went back to the man on stage. Satellite bought this new energy out of him as he was seen bouncing around. He jumps the steps with no second thought laughing as he sticks the landing. The band is brilliant, as always. Your eyes are zoned in on Sarah as she closes the song as Harry sneaks for a drink of water.

He returns, faces the audience, and looks down at signs. Harry loved connecting with his fans; he always loved seeing a familiar face in the crowd. Europe was a place he stayed too far away from, and the crowd welcomed him back with open arms.

“Should I dump him? Good question! It’s a big moment, he might be lovely, we don’t know. My instinct says that you made a sign which makes me think you think you should dump him.”

The crowd goes wild.

“He’s jealous,” Harry frowns, and you know that might hit closer than he would like it to. He turns around, giving the audience a thumbs down. “Boo! What do we say to jealous? BYE-BYE!” Harry goes back to the fan, wanting to learn more. “Good jealous or bad jealous? Controlling? CONTROLLING JEALOUS? Oooh, she says no. It doesn’t sound good. I would say…” dramatic pause. “BYE-BYE! Goodbye, mystery man!” Harry shrugs, prancing away, “could’ve been the one, probably not.”

Harry was coming up the runway, scanning the crowd, trying to see what sign caught his eye next, when someone else entirely stopped him in his tracks.

“Bel!” Harry didn’t realize he spoke that into the microphone until he saw you smile sheepishly as he noticed the cameras were turned on you. You looked perfect in the crowd. You weren’t dressed up. Your outfit was one he’d seen before. You called it your comfort wear. It was an old pair of leggings and his grey “The Face” hoodie that he knew you swiped after your last visit.

Harry keeps walking until he is right in front of you. He can’t believe you’re here. You recognize that shine in his eyes and know he’s fighting back tears. You let yours fall, the smile on your face saying everything for you. You wave at him because it’s all you can do.

“Sorry-sorry I–I just spotted my girlfriend in the crowd,” Harry confesses as he turns to look at Mitch, who just raises his beer at him. The cheers are loud, and you cannot help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re–last I heard, you were in New York.”

“Needed to come home,” you yell, hoping he could hear you and only him.

Harry looks down at you and back at the crowd. He clears his throat bringing the microphone to his mouth, “give me a sec, okay.”

You roll your eyes but stand right by the edge of the stage as he kneels down in front of you. Clearly, someone in his ear says something about not jumping down. Harry laughs and tries his best not to lose his balance.

“Hi Bel,” he whispers low enough for you to hear.

Hi, H.”

You reach a hand up to wipe your tears away, and you know he’s dying that he can’t take you in his arms and comfort you.

“You’re here,” he breathes out.

“I’m sorry you thought I wouldn’t be. It’s been,” you breathe out, shaking your head, “a long few days.”

“That’s okay, baby. I deserved–”

“Shh,” you stop him. “Not here. Not now.” You look behind you as everyone waits for you to finish this private conversation. Tommy gesturing for you to wrap it up. “After,” you promise. “Not going anywhere. I love you, okay.”

Harry, hearing those words, feels a weight lift off his chest. There’s a relief that he finally has you by his side. He can’t help himself. He reaches his hand and touches your cheek, and you melt at his touch. As hard as it was to tear himself away from you, he owed it to the fans who came to see him, who have supported him for years on end, and to you for making your way back to him.

You turn your head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand, backing away slowly until it drops, encouraging him to go back.

“I love you, Bel,” Harry tells you and happily skips away to Mitch, booping his nose, his happiness overtaking him.

“Sorry about that. It’s not every day an Oscar and Emmy winner visits you on tour,” he jokes, causing the audience to cheer louder than before.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough cheering. Remember who you all came for.” There was a Dramatic pause. “Me!”

You chuckle, and it’s like he can hear you because he connects his eyes with yours in seconds.

“Let’s dance, Paris!”

You have the best time singing and dancing. You’re close to fans but far enough to have your own space. As Harry finished singing his closing song, serenading you most of the time. The tears start back up again. Tommy ushers you backstage when Harry waves goodbye, knowing you have him for a limited time before the encore.

Harry had been anticipating you walking in, pacing back and forth as Mitch and Sarah watched him. His head lifts as he hears someone walking his way. You give him a small smile as you walk toward him. Harry feels his heart skip a beat. It’s been too long since he’s seen you. There’s so much left unsaid, and there will be a time to speak on that, but right now, all he wants is to hold you until he has to be back on stage.

“Hi.”

“Bel, beautiful Bel,” he breathes out, eyes glistening under the light.

You feel your face heat up because you don’t feel beautiful, not when you’re still in your airplane clothes, but Harry makes you believe it. Neither one of you has made a move to close the gap and embrace each other. The lingering fear is still hanging in the air for you both.

“Can-”

“Will-”

You both try to speak simultaneously but stop sending you into a fit of laughter, enough to ease the tension.

“Will you let me hug you, Bel?”

“Please,” you mewl.

It’s enough for him to open his arms and tumble into your hold. Your hands wrap around him tightly, fearing you would wake up from this dream if you let go. Harry’s hand rests on your back, moving up and down, providing exact comfort for you. You exhale against his neck and feel him rest his head on top of yours, pressing kisses to your hair.

Not a word needs to be said. You both said a lot, but now being together, none of it matters. It’s meaningless because at the end of the day, you know you’d do everything in your power to remind him you love him. That you’ll never stop fighting for him.

“Lo siento. Te amo. Tu eres mi vida.” You breathe against his neck. You kiss his pulse over and over again. His arms tighten around you, and you know he understood what you said, but you need him to know you mean it. “I’m sorry. I love you. You are my life.”

That’s when you feel the tears, the wet tears slipping down his face as he buries his face deeper, letting himself feel all the emotions he had tucked away.

“No, baby. Come on, no tears.” You try to pull back to look at him, but it makes him hold you closer. You sigh and give up, instead deciding that keeping your arms around him should be enough.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He chokes out. “You have to know.”

“H—“

“Forgive me. I—I can’t lose you, Bel. Not you, never you.”

Harry’s breaking your heart. Hearing his cries doesn’t stop yours, but you know exactly what he needs.

As much as you hate to, you pull back enough to see his face, his green eyes stormy and face wet. His hands now rest on your waist, grip tight. You move your hands up his chest to rest on his face.

“Harry, listen to me.” Your voice is loud but still gentle enough to get his attention. He sniffs, and you know he wants to look away. Your thumbs wipe away at his tears. “I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Baby, you’re the love of my life.”

Harry cracks a smile, “yeah, lovie?”

You hum, “course you are.”

“I’m lucky.”

You giggle, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “We both are.”

Harry grins, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Styles, you’ve got two minutes,” Jeff yells, not entering his dressing room.

You see, Harry’s smile falter, and that won’t do. “Cheer up, buttercup. I’m yours as soon as you get off that stage.”

“I love you, Y/N Belmonte. I feel like I failed you, but I promise never again. Never again.”

You feel yourself melt in his hold. This was your worst fight to date because of the distance because you weren’t sure how to solve an argument through a phone call.

“I love you, Harry. I love you.”

You’re not sure who leans in first, but your lips meet in a kiss. His slightly chapped lips moved against your cherry chapstick-flavored lips. The kiss starts slowly and then builds up. In the kiss, you were expressing your apologies and your love. You moved in perfect sync, neither aware of all the chanting outside for Harry or the pounding on the door calling for Harry for the final time.

It was you, and Harry lost in your world.

It was perfect.

“Go on, rockstar,” you breathed against his lips. “I’ll be watching.”

Harry walked out with a massive smile on his face. The fans all knew the reason why. It was all thanks to his Bel.

As nervous as you are to have this conversation, you’re glad it’s finally happening. Harry went around giving his thanks while you caught up with the band. They all gave you tight squeezes and scolded you for not answering your phone. Anne would not stop fussing over you hearing about your awful journey here from Glenne. You knew if it wasn’t for everyone wanting to steal you for a chat, she’d still have her arm around you. You were thankful she cared so much. It was a comforting reminder you were loved.

Sarah, you noticed, was the one most standoffish towards you, not because she was mad at you but because you worried her. When no one heard a word from you, it caused panic. Sarah made you see that she does care for you. She does see you as a friend. If you took Harry out of the equation, they would still want you in their life. You didn’t catch a moment alone with Mitch, but you felt he knew how thankful you were that he reached out. That you appreciate him and care for him.

“I know,” is all Mitch said as Harry slowly began to pull you out of the room, knowing you would have spent a long time saying goodbye even if you were seeing them for lunch tomorrow.

You let out a deep sigh when Harry shut the door behind you. Finally, alone, no one to interrupt, just you and Harry. He dropped your bag right next to his. You slowly made your way inside, seeing how quick Harry was to make the room his. Clothes were thrown everywhere, and his shoes were lined up behind the couch to give him that slight sense of home.

“Bel? What are you doing?” Harry looks over at you, seeing you carefully toe off your shoes, standing by the entrance while he’s removed his sweater and now has a hair clip in hand. “Come on in.”

You’re not sure why you’re nervous. It’s obvious both your anger is gone, but you’re still hesitant.

Harry reaches his hand out for you to take. You look down at it, then up at Harry, who’s giving you a nervous smile. You take it without a second thought as he guides you to the couch. He waits for you to sit first, then follows, leaving a gap between you. It hurts seeing, but you hope you’ll be back in his lap by the end of the conversation.

“So, should we discuss the elephant in the room,” Harry opens his mouth, but you keep talking. “You played Medicine tonight.”

Harry chuckles, thankful for your lighthearted start to this conversation. “Felt right. You asked me for that the first time I spotted you in the audience back in St. Paul.”

You shoot him a timid smile because you did. That felt like a lifetime ago when it had been ten months, dating for nine. You’ve felt like you’d been with him for a lifetime, and you hope it never ends.

“It was a nice surprise.”

“I’m glad you appreciated it. It was for you.”

“Yeah, who was it for in Oslo?” You tease.

Harry throws his hands over his face trying to hide his red face. “I lost rock paper scissors.”

You can’t help but laugh, having seen the videos Pauli had saved from that night.

“Bel,” he breathes out, having felt the tension leave and ready to address the situation. “Feels like there’s a lot to discuss.”

“Where to start?” You joke, trying to ease the tension.

He chuckles lightly, “we can–uh, my phone call.”

Where the fight started.

Harry clears his throat, moving around on the couch until he’s directly facing you, the gap between you now smaller.

“I’m sorry. I called after a not so great day, and I guess,” he pinches his bottom lip looking down, trying to gather his words. “Seeing the positive articles and responses about you and someone else reminded me how easy it is to lose you. I was jealous, simple as that.”

The Harry sitting in front of you is the one you fell in love with, who can bear his heart to you because he wants to fight for you.

He loves you, simple as that.

“The call escalated quickly, and it could have been time zones, but we said so much. I love you, H.” You reach out for his hand, intertwining your fingers, letting them rest in your lap. “I don’t want you to doubt that, but I don’t want to display our relationship online when it’s unnecessary. I know you hate it. I love you, and I’ll tell anyone who asks, but we’ve got to remember to keep it ours and not anyone else’s.”

“Just ours,” Harry repeats.

“Mhm.”

“You’re right. I promise I’ll try to do better.”

You smile at Harry, “I promise too, H.”

“Now,” Harry squeezes your hand tight. “About ignoring phone calls.”

You grimace because this was you being hurt and petty. Too scared to hear what he had to say. “H–”

“Love, not hearing from you for days was awful, and I deserved it, but everyone else. No one had heard a peep from you, and that’s when I got scared.” Harry expressed, just as everyone did earlier.

You accept that you were wrong. Harry listens as you express how you didn’t want to go to anyone who wouldn’t listen to you. That they wouldn’t understand where you were coming from.

“Bel, I promise you that they care about you as a person and not only because you’re my girlfriend. Remember you befriended everyone before we started dating.”

The reassurance was all you needed, not only from Harry but his friends. Next was the story of missing your flight. Harry listened intently as you described your phone call with Sarai and briefly discussed your panic attack at the airport. Harry tensed, hating that happened, and squeezed your shoulder, closing the last bit of space between each other. By the end, Harry was close to tears, hating that he had you second guess about him wanting you at his show. There was lots more to speak on, but ultimately you both feel secure and assured that the worst is past. That you now get to enjoy each other for the next few days.

“I love you, you know that?” Harry asks you.

You giggle, shifting from your spot next to him and moving to sit on his lap instead. Your arms go up his chest to rest on his neck, playing with his growing hair. His hands settled on your waist, at least they did until he snaked one down to rest on your ass to bring you closer to him, leaving no space between you.

Staring at him, you lean down and bring your lips to his. Now that you have him in front of you, you want to make up for lost time. Harry is quick to take control of the kiss, not that you fight him on it. The kiss is building up as he asks for entrance which you happily grant him. As you kiss, you can’t help but rock your hips against his, feeling how hard he’s getting under you. Harry hisses, pulling away as you bite his bottom lip softly for ending the kiss much too quickly to your liking.

“Can I show you how sorry I am?” Harry sighs against your mouth, his hands now holding your face.

“No.”

Harry nods, understanding. He’d never push you to do something you didn’t want to do.

“Show me how much you missed me,” you purred.

“Are you sure?”

“Please, make love to me, mi vida,” you breathe out.

“I’ll give you anything you ask,” Harry promises.

And you knew as long as you had Harry, everything would be alright.

thank you for reading <3 I adore you.

if you were wish to see more of harry and bel be sure to send me a message.

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-my-sunflower @myfavfanficsever @springholland @michellekstyles @harryismyfwend @japanchrry @onlyamylee @golden-hoax @itsmycorneroftheinternet @thurhomish @thelovecayon @dontworrysunflower @shawnieeboyy

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mydreamysummerstudio · 2 years

Text

new chapters every friday now :)

the fire we started | chapter 2/8 | ch1 here

pairing: pedro pascal / oscar isaac

chapter word count ✎ 2,370

genre: real-person-fiction, angsty angsty ANGST and fluff and some smut eventually

overall summary: in the days following an accidentally public display of affection, oscar and pedro try to pick up the pieces of their quickly unravelling secret. as they try to figure out what they are, it becomes clear to one of them maybe they weren’t hiding it so well after all.

author’s notes: this week was awful and i wanted to share some happy so here’s chapter 2! stay tuned for when i eventually get my invite and can post this to aO3 instead. i hope you like it - we’re getting out of the angst and into the fluffy fun soon! thanks for reading! -mydreamysummerstudio

Oscar sits in the dark of his living room for a long time after hanging up with Pedro.

With his feet propped up on an ottoman, he reaches over the arm of his favorite yellow chair for the glass of whiskey sitting on the end-table beside him. He hasn’t touched it since he first called Pedro, and the melting ice leaves a ring of water on the surface of the wood. He watches as the ring shimmers from the light of the nearby window, Brooklyn traffic lighting up the room with red and yellow blinking lights every few minutes. He can hear the chatter of a pair walking by on the pavement outside. As they pass, the summer air grows quiet again, hanging heavy and thick around Oscar; just him, his racing thoughts, and his heaving chest.

He brings the glass to his lips as he glances at his phone, thumbing the screen where a headline glares at him. In the soft glow of his phone light, his brow furrows as his finger grazes over the words he’s read at least a hundred other times today. Amor Confirmado? Oscar Isaac y Pedro Pascal se ven besando en secreto afuera de Pedro’s Apartmento en Manhattan - “Love Confirmed? Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal seen sharing a kiss in secret outside Pedro’s Manhattan Apartment.”

The words sting anew like a knife sliding into his chest, burning him slowly as he drops his phone into his lap. Each time he reads this headline and all the others, the same shameful fire flourishes inside him. And yet each time he reads them, there is a part of him hoping to see if it’s a mistake - it’s about someone else, it isn’t real, it never happened. He takes another sip at his glass and feels the burn in his throat as the whiskey goes down, putting out the fire momentarily and leaving it a smoldering rubble.

How could they be so careless? For the past eight months, he and Pedro had been skirting around defining what it was they were doing, stealing moments in secret with each other after a photoshoot or press tour, visiting each other’s homes late at night over the weekdays when no one could suspect it may be anything other than business.

And yet, at the same time, they knew exactly what they were doing.

From the moment Pedro had grabbed Oscar’s waist that one fateful evening last December, they both knew that whatever happened from that moment on, they could never turn back.

But still, even as the sparks grew and grew and grew, they should have known better than to steal a quick kiss before saying goodbye yesterday. Oscar’s heart skips a beat as he remembers those crucial moments, body reacting viscerally as if it were happening again in real time.

Oscar had spent the night at Pedro’s apartment in Manhattan, just as they’d grown used to doing over the last few months. Especially on the nights the two would fly home from their latest round of press, it was much easier for Oscar to just keep riding home with Pedro in the same taxi instead of ordering a different car to take him back to his and Elvira’s flat in the next neighboring borough, a full 30 minutes away. On this particular night, fingers secretly intertwined underneath the car’s middle armrest, they rode in silence the whole way, often stealing quick sweet glances. Once safely inside Pedro’s entryway, they would hurriedly strip to just their tees and boxers, eager to land on the couch and flip through the tv channels all night, lazily exchanging long kisses and slow, satisfying scratches across their backs.

Early next morning, Oscar was getting dressed in a hurry, saying something about how it was his turn for dinner prep tonight now that he was home from the tour. Pedro insisted on walking him down to the ground level, “Just for a quick goodbye,” he’d begged longingly, watching Oscar fumble with the laces on his sneakers with a little flutter in his chest.

Oscar had agreed with a smile after a little more pestering, saying, “Okay, okay, sí amor.” They walked hand in hand to the elevator, in which they then stood completely apart from each other. But once the doors slid open and they reached the end of the outside hallway leading to the street, temptation welcomed them yet again. Pedro hovered maybe a little too close to Oscar, pinky finger reaching down to graze the inside palm of Oscar’s hand. Oscar leaned right back in ever so slightly, their gazes becoming level. They breathed long and slow, inches apart from one another, drinking in the August heat.

In Pedro’s mind, they were hidden by the apartment building’s tall fencing, the only thing separating them from the sidewalk and the bustle of the city outside. Even with the world waiting just steps away through the building exit, Pedro leaned in closer still, head still swimming drunkenly after having slept cradled in Oscar’s arms the night before. Oscar’s eyes switched rapidly from Pedro’s mouth to the green hedges lining the tops of the brick and metal fences closing them in on either side. He swore he sensed movement on the other side, but Pedro’s pull was so intoxicating, Oscar couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and intertwining their fingers, pulling them together.

Their lips met in the softest, sweetest goodbye kiss - slow and steady, Pedro’s facial hair tickling Oscar’s two-day old stubble. It was over as soon as it had started, but before Oscar had even had a chance to fully pull away, he’d heard the unmistakable sound of cameras shuttering off rapidly just on the other side of the fence.

Oscar, panicking, pushed Pedro off him using his free hand, fingers digging into Pedro’s speckled cotton shirt. Fingers still locked, Pedro was suddenly being dragged by Oscar back down the hallway to the elevator. All Pedro could manage to get out was a, “Were there - did we just?” In a stupid stutter.

“Give them a show? Yeah, we did,” Oscar was frantically pushing the elevator button, but it was too late. As the the doors groaned open for them again, a few men balancing huge cameras on their shoulders were filling the hallway, clamoring over one another and asking for their statements on the moment they’d just shared. Pedro protected Oscar with his arms and chest, making himself larger than Oscar who was now cowering into the corner of the elevator, face scrunching up as a wave of tears began. Pedro managed to block all the reporters out from entering the elevator car, and when the door finally came to a grinding close, he collapsed near Oscar, attempting earnestly to catch his breath.

The roar of the reporters chattering excitedly amongst themselves grew quieter and quieter as the car lifted them up back to Pedro’s floor. The two men stared at each other, eyes wide with the fright evident on their faces; Oscar, still bent into the corner of the car, wiped at the tears streaming down his cheek.

“Now we’ve done it,” he said sadly. Pedro, staring at his feet, didn’t say a thing.

When this started, they had agreed they would stay this way as long as they could, quietly growing fonder and fonder of each other in a way they hadn’t thought possible before. But now, their pact was shattering right before their very eyes, in front of the world, and they were scrambling to pick up the pieces.

That was yesterday, and today, Oscar still feels just as hopeless. Having snapped out of his memory and back to reality in his armchair, he groans and reaches up to grab his forehead, the ice in his whiskey rattling in his other hand.

At that moment, a door to his right opens, the light from the hallway casting a warm triangle over the living room and ending in the corner where he sits. He squints into the brightness and watches as his wife moves into the doorway, messing with her bright blonde hair that is shining from the ceiling light above. She turns behind her to close the door as she starts to descend the carpeted stairs, abruptly leaving the room in cool darkness again. She pads over to where Oscar has been sulking for the past hour, sinking down into the matching armchair across him.

“All done with bedtime,” she says quietly with a smile, adjusting the watch and bracelets on her left wrist. They glimmer slightly in the light bouncing from the window and Oscar’s phone. “They went down without a fight tonight but they did ask for you, both of them. They sent you goodnight kisses.”

Oscar winces. The knife has reappeared and is threatening to slide into his heart again. “I’m sorry. I know I should have put this all aside for a second to be there for them but I…I had to talk to Pedro.” He pauses to glance at her and is surprised to see her calm expression doesn’t change, listening intently. “I promise I’ll be up in the morning, first thing, I’ll be the one to wake them up for camp.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, and nodding, adds, “Yes, thank you, I can get going on coffee while you work on getting those little sleeping dragons up.”

Oscar chuckles and then quickly opens his mouth, air escaping as he tries to form a question. Words fail him and he just stares at her, at the loving, pitiful expression she is returning back, and he shakes his head slightly, lips still parted.

“How are you so okay with all of this?” He finally manages, lifting his hand from the glass and gesturing vaguely into the air. “You know? How have you not lost your complete shit at me once today, and still helped me with everything like it’s all fucking normal?” Oscar’s words are tumbling out faster and faster and his chest heaves a little. “How are you cool as a fucking cucumber after all you’ve heard about me today?”

She’s still smiling, her head nodding ever so slightly along with every word that shakes out of Oscar’s mouth. She picks at her bracelets and is quiet for a moment, then, looking away she says, “I always knew, I think.” She returns to look at him again as she says his name. “Oscar, I just always knew there was something there. Whether you two didn’t want to realize it, or admit it, that was your own thing.”

Oscar’s mouth goes dry very quickly. He thinks about chugging the rest of his drink, but she starts again before he can pick the glass back up fast enough.

“I have never for a second doubted that what we’ve had, the life we’ve made together, was real,” she says, looking away again as she turns her body toward the window, sinking lower into the armchair. “I know you’re going to keep loving me and our babies through all this as you figure it out.” She takes a big breath. “And I know I’ll still love you through this too and after, no matter how it ends up. But part of me was just…waiting for this to come out. It was undeniable, at least to me.” She steals a glance at Oscar, whose eyes have glossed over, fingers at his lips. “Don’t you-” she tries, “Don’t you remember that Spanish article a few years back, after Pedro made that instagram post?”

“The Univisión one,” Oscar mutters into his hand, remembering that article clearly as if it had been one of the ones shared today, instead of two years ago. The headline flashes behind his eyes. Pedro Pascal ha dicho que Oscar Isaac es el amor de su vida: su amistad esconde muchos secretos. “Pedro Pascal has said that Oscar Isaac is the love of his life: their friendship hides many secrets.”

“I told him not to post that,” he recalls, laughing with a slight shake of his shoulders. “We were giddy at my movie premiere. We were having so much fun. He showed me what he typed and I thought he was kidding. This whole thing, we were supposed to be playing around. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“I remember that night too. You were having fun,” she says, and as Oscar looks up at her he can detect a hint of sadness in her tone this time. “But I don’t think you’ve ever been pretending with him.”

Oscar’s breath stutters - that one hurt; and yet, in the back of his mind, there’s the lingering thought she might be right. The knife reappears yet again with a threatening burn against his chest. He tries to catch his breath and offer something up but before he can do so, Elvira stands.

“I’m going to start heading to bed,” she announces, slipping her shoes back on and taking a few steps towards Oscar. She places a firm hand on his knee as she lowers herself to him. “I…if you need me at all, if I can help somehow, please just ask.” She plants a calculated kiss on his cheek, and he closes his eyes; the knife finally twisting into his chest and bursting into flames. “Please, just tell me, whatever you need. You don’t have to fight through this alone.” And then she stands back up and is walking away, disappearing into the dark room and leaving the air still again.

Oscar, chest on fire and breathing quickly, wipes the tears at the corners of his eyes. He grabs for his phone without looking and tries to search for another contact, squinting at the blurry screen. He clicks a name with a star, “Lucía, Agent.”

The line rings once before she picks up with a quick hi, knowing to pause and let him speak. She already knows what he’s going to say.

It tumbles out, “Lucía. Hi. I- We. We - we made a mess. I need your help…sorting this out,” and that’s all he can say before the smoke rises up in his chest and catches in his throat, unable to breathe.

#my writing #here we go again!#pedro x oscar #oscar x pedro #oscar isaac fic #pedro pascal fic #sweet girlfriends #space sisters #the fire we started #real person fiction #rpf #pedro/oscar #oscar/pedro #pedro pascal/oscar isaac #Oscar Isaac #be nice thank u

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

The one with Ethan’s suggestion

Description | Ethan suggests something that you had never seen coming - but for how long will you be able to resist him?

Content | smut with a bit of fluff

Pairing | Ethan x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3138

Tagging | @ginny-lily @mywritingonlyfans

***

"You did not just ask me that."

Ethan didn't even seem bothered by your shocked reaction. Instead, he simply kept looking at you, waiting, as if he had posed a completely normal question. You were certain it wasn’t though - who the hell just came out and asked one of their best friends to start hooking up? Surely this wasn’t just you thinking this was more than odd. You couldn’t stop looking at him, relaxing on a lounger in the sun, book still open in his hand, and how he didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, come one, Y/n,” Vic interjected from where she was relaxing on a pool float. “Poor Ethan hasn’t been with anyone since the pandemic started. The least you can do is help him get laid.”

“Get laid by me?!”

“Who else?” Victoria laughed. “It’s not like he can go out and pick up someone when we go on a promo tour in a week. We’re barely allowed to meet anyone as a safety measure.”

You shot her a pointed look and Victoria being your friend for the longest got it immediately.

“And no, I’m not gonna hook up with him. So it’s gotta be you.”

You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. Had everyone simply gone crazy? Surely, Thomas wouldn’t be on their side in this, right? You watched as he lazily strolled towards your loungers, cigarette in hand.

“Thomas!” You shouted over at him. “Ethan wants me to hook up with him!”

“Fucking finally,” Thomas laughed as you stared back in horror. Was everyone in on this madness? “He’s been moping around for ages. About time he gets laid and relaxes.”

“See?” Ethan interjected. “Everyone thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea!”

“Fine,” Ethan shrugged. You hated how much he didn’t seem to care - how he had posed a question like that without an ounce of awkwardness and how your rejection didn’t seem to faze him in the least. You knew he was open about sex and sexuality, you’d been part of countless conversations among the band and had seen him pick up people at parties more than once, but this unnerved you. "If you change your mind, I'm available."

And with that Ethan went back to his book, Victoria went back to floating around the pool and Thomas went back to smoking his cigarette. But you weren't going to go back to anything, because whether you liked it or not, Ethan's suggestion would continue playing in your head for the unforeseeable future.

***

Three days. It had been three days since that fateful day at the pool and you could barely stand to look at Ethan. It wasn't because you were embarrassed - you all spoke about such things quite openly - nor were you angry at him having asked in the first place - if anything, it was flattering, a man such as Ethan considering you attractive in that way. It was more of a constant thought in your head whenever you were in the same room with him or he talked to you or you looked at him or he so much as popped into your mind. You kept lying awake at night, intrusive thoughts of Ethan towering over you clouding your brain. You didn't know what it was but you knew you didn't like it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as Victoria approached you, taking a couple of tomatoes you had spread in front of you and started cutting them up. You had been in charge of making dinner most days, with one or the other coming to join you in your cooking endeavors sooner or later. Today it seemed to be Vic, who was giggling away beside you, quite obviously dying to tell you something.

"And what is up with you?" You asked, a smirk on your face. You were happy your friend seemed so giddy and it had you itching to know why.

"I have a date!" Victoria was never one to keep things like these to herself for long - whenever she was positively excited about something, the world simply had to know. "Her name's Paula, she's on holiday here and we're going to go out for wine."

"Just wine?"

"Well, I'm gonna say, don't expect me back here tonight." She couldn't stop herself from smirking and then breaking out in another round of laughter and you joined freely. Good for her.

"I miss dates," you mused. "Or maybe - I don't know. Maybe I just miss at least staying the night with someone."

"You really need to get laid, babe."

"Who needs to get laid?" Damiano had appeared without warning, sneaking up on the two of you and pinching both of your waists teasingly before hopping on the counter next to where you were working. A slice of tomato was stolen and ended up in his mouth before you could react, only hitting him in the arm when it was much too late.

"Y/n," Victoria answered nonchalantly. You stared at her in annoyance but she didn't even catch your eye.

"So does Ethan! You guys should fuck."

"Not you too," you groaned. All of this seemed like a bad joke. In fact, you were starting to wonder if this was all some weird plot your friends had to get you to sleep with Ethan. But why would they?

"Huh?" Damiano sounded surprised but you didn't put it past him to simply put on a good act.

"Ethan asked her to hook up the other day."

"No way!" Damiano exclaimed. "He actually, fina- I mean, he actually asked you that?"

"Yup, and she shot him down," Victoria explained. You were getting more annoyed by the second. Especially because it felt like your love life (or lack thereof?) was being discussed without you. Plus, you couldn't shake the feeling they knew something you didn't.

"Aw, poor Ethan. You know, you should really give him the chance. Make the most of the fact that you've both got the house to yourselves tonight." Damiano's eyebrow wiggle earned him a tomato slice to the face due to pure irritation on your side. He wasn't bothered, quickly shoving it into his mouth and happily munching away on it.

"Wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?"

You sounded much more panicked than necessary. So what if you were alone in the house with Ethan? You'd survive. Easily. You'd read a bit of your book, maybe watch a movie, go to bed. You didn't even have to spend time with him. Right?

"Going out with my girlfriend, she's in town for work. Not sure where Thomas is off to but he's already left" Damiano shrugged, finally hopping off the counter to hopefully stop being in the way. "So, if there's anything you want to do, do it tonight."

***

So this was it. You were alone with Ethan. No, this was nothing. So what if you were alone with him? Not like it was going to change anything at all.

You had said your goodbyes for the night to the two lovebirds, wishing Victoria the most possible fun on her little date, before pouring yourself a glass of wine and retreating to the patio. You had no idea where Ethan was and you didn't mind.

The sun was setting, the temperature was more than bearable and you had your book lying next to you. Eyes closed trying to enjoy the last rays of sunshine, your hand grasped the stem of the wine glass, and fuck that moth scared the living daylights out of you. And caused you to spill your wine all over your blouse. Red wine. Crap. One was supposed to wash those out immediately, right? Right? You realised you had no idea, as you sprinted towards the upstairs bathroom, already unbuttoning for fast removal.

You threw the door open, feet set to move towards the basin, when you realised you weren't alone in the room. It happened in slow motion, as much as you hated the cliché of it all.

Ethan's back was towards you, strong, hard muscles visible under an array of water droplets that were slowly, slowly making their way downwards, hypnotising you and keeping your gaze locked on them. Your eyes were still travelling lower and lower when he noticed your presence, turning around out of reflex, and you could not help but notice he was not wrapped in a towel, nowhere close, when your eyes fell on-

Oh.

In a rare moment of clarity, you tore your gaze away, looking up at his face instead, just to find him eyeing up your cleavage. Your blouse was halfway undone, putting your white lace bra on full display. Then his eyes snapped away and looked into yours instead. For a second, it felt like the world was standing still. Your brain only worked for another moment before it decided to let your body - or potentially your heart? - take over.

You told yourself 'fuck it' - or maybe you said it out loud, judging by the sudden smirk appearing on Ethan's face - and reached for the man in front of you. He reciprocated without hesitation, pulling you in and meeting your mouth with his, as he walked you backward until you hit the wall. His body felt hot against yours, providing a stark contrast to the cold tiles pressing into you. His hands cradled your face softly, fingers stroking along your cheeks, while he kissed you, open-mouthed, in a way that left you breathless.

If you had ever had doubts that sex with Ethan would not be worth it, they had evaporated into thin air altogether.

His hands had started roaming your body, finally landing on the last buttons of your blouse. You had expected him to slowly open them up, but instead, he tore the fabric apart in one swift movement, buttons flying and hitting the ground with little clacking noises. You wrecked your mouth from him for a moment, staring at him in both surprise and awe.

"Spiacente," he murmured, although he didn't look all that sorry. "I couldn't help myself. I can get them sewn back-"

"Ethan, stop talking and start fucking me."

Your bold words took both of you by surprise but none of you minded, simply relieved that you were on the same page. His hands were now grasping tightly onto your thighs and, and without giving you a warning, he lifted you up, still pressed against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively and he took a step back, finding his strength and balance, and slowly carrying you into his bedroom.

You couldn't stop staring at him. Ethan's beauty was a sight to behold on any given day, but the way his lips looked kissed after just a short while and his eyes had that kind of shine to them that had never previously been directed at you, it felt like you were looking at something ethereal. Never mind the fact that you knew he was completely naked, not just the toned chest that was pressing into your torse, but everything else. Hell, you were sure you felt a certain something press into the back of your thigh quite shamelessly.

He dropped you on his bed, leaving you to bounce slightly on the mattress as you lied on your back. He looked like he was about to devour you and you just knew you'd bend to his every wish.

Without any further hesitation, Ethan moved onto the bed, immediately grabbing onto the shorts you were wearing and slowly pulling them down your legs. He held eye contact with you the whole time and you were convinced you had never seen anything sexier in your life. Your panties were the next piece to leave your body. Normally, this would be the point you got nervous about, crossing your legs, hiding behind hands, anything to protect what little of your modesty you had left, but this was different. Ethan took all shame away from you.

"Is this okay?" He asked, as he slowly crawled upwards, spreading your legs and leaving hot, wet kisses along your calves. As much as you appreciated him asking for consent, you almost had to laugh - at this point in time, you had lost all willpower to deny him anything. So, with a blissful smile on your face, you eagerly nodded at him, your hand reaching down and tangling itself into his hair. He groaned as you gave a little tug and the sound was more than enough to get you even wetter than you already were.

At least that was what you thought up until Ethan put his mouth on you. You had been expecting a bit more foreplay, maybe his fingers, but instead you felt his tongue lick along the length of you. Your moan loudly echoed through the room and you had never been so glad that Vic, Thomas and Damiano had deserted the two of you in the house.

Your grasp on his hair tightened as he started flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. The fact that you could feel his hair tickling the inside of your thighs only seemed to make you more sensitive. Suddenly, one of his fingers entered you, quickly to be joined by a second. Your back arched off the bed in an involuntary reaction as your breathing became more and more laboured. You could hear- hell, you could feel him chuckle against you.

With a sharp tug, you pulled his head away from you.

"I'm not going to be able to take much more, Ethan," you confessed. He looked up at you with wide eyes, chin wet from going down on you and fingers still slowly moving in and out, and you momentarily forgot what you meant to say. "So if you wanna fuck me, I suggest you get a move on."

He didn't need to be told twice. You still sighed in disappointment when he actually removed his fingers from you but you were quickly distracted by him moving them to your mouth and slipping them in. You eagerly sucked on them, twirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, and his composure was slipping with every second he looked at you. He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth to crawl further up your body, his cock moving against your leg. He was so well endowed it would have almost been frightening if you hadn't been so turned on.

Ethan kissed you with a force that was unparalleled. There wasn't even a question about who was in control. As his fingers trailed from your neck down past your collarbones you both suddenly seemed to remember you were still wearing a bra. You made short work of the piece of fabric, carelessly throwing it across the room, and he thanked you by squeezing your soft flesh in the most delicious way. You repaid the favour by letting your hand wander to his cock and giving him a few strokes. He immediately let out the most sinful moan you had ever heard, head collapsing onto your cleavage.

"I don't think you need any more help from me down there," you giggled.

"With you lying under me like this, I sure don't."

Moving your legs around his waist once more, you slowly guided him into you, your walls swallowing him bit by bit, careful not to stretch you out too fast with his size. It felt like heaven on earth. You both moaned in pleasure as Ethan slowly started moving, making sure you were comfortable as he looked into your eyes, while you broke the eye contact time and time again, too overwhelmed to leave your eyes open every time he thrust into you. You kept grabbing onto what you could, the back of his head, his shoulders, his butt, as he increased his speed, hitting you in all the right places every single time.

You knew you weren't going to last long, not with him on and in and all around you, not with his fingers playing with your nipple, not with his lips clumsily attaching themselves to various places around your neck and shoulders, and as you felt his hand between your legs, softly circling your clit once again, you were gone. You came in waves of euphoria, unashamed of the volume of your moans and the strength with which you pulled on his hair. Your actions, combined with you clenching around him and a few more thrust, had him follow you moments later.

He carefully slipped out of you, never once letting go of you, and turning you onto your side with him so you were facing each other. Both of you were still breathing heavily, vision cloudy, but intertwined. You were convinced he had ruined you - there was no way anyone was ever going to live up to how he made you feel.

"So, did it live up to your expectation?" You couldn't help but giggle as you posed the question. "Getting laid again after such a long time?"

Ethan pushed a damp strand of hair from your face. You hadn't expected such softness.

"It wasn't actually about getting laid, you know."

"Huh?"

"It was about you."

"Okay, you've lost me now," you said, brows knitting as your hand searched for his, finger entangling the same way your legs were doing. "What are you talking about?"

"I... I've liked you for a while. And I tried so much, but you never even noticed."

Your mind replayed the last few weeks you had spent with the band in their summer house. Instances of Ethan bringing you food, cocktails, adjusting the shade to make sure you were in it, offering to put sunscreen on your back. Moments of him searching for your company, moving much closer than necessary in the heat, arms constantly touching when you were sitting next to each other. Jokes and teasing from the others, drunken remarks. You hadn't paid attention to any of it. You wondered how you could have been so blind to a man so wonderful.

"Wait, so instead of asking me out like a normal person, you suggested we hook up?" You couldn't keep the laughter in now. The situation was simply too ridiculous and you had not yet stopped riding on your high from the endorphins he had caused.

"It was Vic's idea." He buried his head into the sheets, but you could still see his cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. "She knew I missed sex and she said you mentioned something similar so she thought this was the way into your..."

"Pants?"

"Heart, actually."

You snuggled closer, arms wrapping around him so that your noses were touching.

"Well, as embarrassing as it is, it somehow worked, didn't it?" You stroked over his head lovingly. "And I'm sure not letting you go any time soon."

#maneskin #maneskin imagine #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio fiction #ethan torchio x you #maneskin fiction #smut #my writings #ethan torchio

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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bubblyhoney · 3 years

Note

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

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cursivetalk · 3 years

Text

Interview Conversations

Awsten Knight X F!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: You're lounging around in your living room when you get a face time call from Awsten. In the middle of his interview.

A/N: I had this idea when I watched the (I think it was) rocksound interview where Awsten just whipped out his phone to call Joe and that's what my brain spit out. Have fun reading it and tell me what you think!

Being in a relationship with Awsten was the most exciting thing happening to me in a while. And I didn't mean that in a cheesy I'm so crazy in love with you way. Nope. I simply never got chill with him. Not that it was something bad entirely but that man's mind worked in mysterious ways.

Like last week. They weren't touring at the moment, just doing some promotional stuff and of course Awsten was always writing songs. So as the good boyfriend he was, he took me on several cute dates which was all good and fine (a girl liked to be treated right after all). What I didn't expect was Awsten waking me up at the ass crack of dawn to go — you fucking guessed it — bungee jumping. Because that was how my boyfriend's brain worked.

I on the other hand, still half asleep had agreed to it under the condition that Awsten made breakfast. So he had been tutting around in my small kitchen, telling me about how cool this was going to be, posting about it on Twitter while I was just trying to get my brain to start working with a cup of coffee in hand. Awsten didn't hold back to tell me how messed up my hair was. And kissed me right after it so he wouldn't have to suffer from my death glare. Plus I knew that he didn't mean to hurt me with it. That guy loved to tease me and I loved to tease him. That was how our relationship worked honestly.

All was good and I survived the jump but that taught me an important lesson. Never agree to something out of Awsten's mouth before I knew the conditions.

Right now, I was lounging around in my living room and fiddling with my phone. Later today, Awsten wanted to drop by for a movie night but that was still a few hours away. So goodbye tidying up and hello comfy hoodie and sofa.

And then my phone lit up with a familiar face. It took me a moment to understand that I was in fact not looking at Dean hunting a demon anymore and instead at the still of my boyfriend. Which was weird as I was pretty sure that Awsten was in the middle of an interview. Don't ask me with whom, I had been still asleep when he told me about it. Don't try to talk to me before my first coffee.

"Hey baby! Love that hoodie!" Awsten waved at me through the screen.

I looked down and realized that I was wearing his merch. Arrogant fucker. "Aren't you like in the middle of something?"

From the way he was holding his phone, I could see the very tips of Otto's curls in front of something red and soft looking. Probably a sofa. There was some distinct mumbling in the background that Awsten simply ignored and pouted at his phone and consequently me instead. "Well yeah, but I've got a question for you."

This dude, I swore. I shook my head in fake disappointment but I was pretty sure that he could see the smile I tried to hide behind my hair. Knowing Awsten his question had exactly nothing to do with what the poor interviewer had originally asked.

"What is it?"

"No reason to be so rude, Y/N," Geoff peered over Awsten's shoulder. He chuckled as he said this, taking the venom from his words completely.

As soon as Geoff had come into the frame, Otto craned his neck towards the screen as well. He smiled brightly and then waved at me. "Hey, Y/N! Long time no see."

"Aw but you saw me just Friday," I reminded him, grabbing for a pillow. This would take a while so I might as well get comfortable.

"Would you stop flirting with my girlfriend?" A soft 'ouch' could be heard following the statement and Otto suddenly left the frame. Awsten looked up again innocently though it was pretty clear that it had been him. "Anyway. I was wondering if you know the name of that garage band we saw last week? We've been talking 'bout Joe and I remembered that I wanted to tell him about 'em but I forgot their name."

Right. A day after the bungee jumping incident Awsten had made amends in form of my favourite bar and a little book shopping trip beforehand. Not that he had something to make amends about (it had actually been pretty fun) but Awsten had claimed it as such. And there we had seen this small band perform. They hadn't been that bad in my opinion and I even had gotten Awsten to dance with me to one of their songs.

It took me some serious mind tricks but then I remembered their name. "Hang on, it was something with face or something like that in the name. No wait. They were called 'Poison From Your Lips'!"

Awsten hit his forehead and nodded in confirmation. "That was it. Thanks, babe!"

"No problem!"

Muted mumbling in the background. Probably the interviewer trying to get their attention back. My suspicion was confirmed as Awsten's head snapped up and he asked, "What was the question again? Sorry, got a lil caught up here."

More words I couldn't decipher. Still, I waited patiently in case there were more questions for me. But Awsten just nodded and hummed along, his phone angled up so I could see only his neck and chin.

"Yeah, I really like working out all the details for the fans to find. It's like scavenger hunting only through songs and posts. There's a bunch of stuff you haven't found yet by the way," Awsten tilted his head at a camera and raised his arms while speaking.

Which made him realize that the call was still going. I suppressed a giggle and waved at him and he turned the phone back upright. "You're still there!"

"That I am," I nodded solemnly to his confused excitement.

Geoff and Otto were coughing suspiciously but Awsten didn't let himself get distracted. Instead he rolled his eyes at me. "Smartass."

"You love it."

"True," Awsten agreed and caught me off guard with the honest look in his eyes that he masked with a flirtatious wink, "but I fear I have to say goodbye for now. Wave for the camera!"

And then, the screen got blurry while he whirled it around. I waved dutifully at the schemes that were supposed to be people.

"See you tonight," I said to Awsten before the connection cut off. A lost blown kiss and the call died.

Shaking my head, I stared at the dark screen. I loved this man so much, it wasn't even funny anymore.

Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee

#awsten knight x reader #awsten knight #waterparks x reader #waterparks #fanfic #fluff #x reader #imagine

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maybe-your-left · 3 years

Note

ASK FRIDAY - CREATE A SCENARIO: roommates trope with Kylo

Due to some last minute room swapping and late registering Reader and Kylo end up in the same dorm but they're mad about it and hate each other (cue intense sexual tension)

Dorm room, Snowed in, evening time like 6

The heater/power has just gone out and Kylo knows a few ways to get warm...only if Readers up for it...

been working on this for FOREVER ANON.

I loved it!

Crushed

TW: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub vibes, exhibitionism, kinda fluff, Kylos not that nice and is an entitled man.

Oh yeah, you fuckin’ slut.

Yes-Yes-Yes!

‘M gonna cum all over your fucking tits.

You slapped the wall next to your bed, hard.

“Can you guys keep it down! It’s 1 in the morning!”

Muffled voices came through the paper-thin wall, sounding like bodies moving to the floor. Good, you thought, at least he will get rug burn from the shitty carpet, might keep him from fucking everything that moves.

A hard knock on the wall pulled you from that thought.

“Go read your fucking Bible! I’m trying to get my dick wet!”

“Please!”

“Why don’t you go get fucked!?”

Some giggled came through next, followed by more muffled whispering. You whined loudly, trying to ignore the sounds of him fucking whatever bimbo your dormmate had in his lair. Shoving your face into your pillow, muffling your tears and wails.

You turned on your TV, drowning out the final act of his performance. Fingers poised over your keyboard to file another noise complaint with the RA… not like they ever helped you. The last time they intervened they left with a black eye and broken nose, shrugging for you to sort it out yourselves.

A door slammed shut, you let out a sigh of relief.

At least he wasn’t a cuddler.

You climbed out of bed, tip-toeing to your door to take a peek of whatever slut found her way into his room this evening. The special lady was a new cinderella every fucking week, he didn’t even try to know their names. You heard him admit it once in class to his friends, saying he called them all ‘baby’ so he wouldn’t have to learn.

You peeked out the door, blinking from the harsh fluorescent lighting of your dingy dorm halls. The walls were a screaming white, yellowing from years of shoddy cleaning. You tried to clean your room when you first came to school, but it was too disgusting.

A non-smoking dorm, ha. Everyone smoked, especially your neighbor.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed creeper?”

You jumped at his voice, exhaling harshly through your nose. You steeled your features, caught red-handed looking for his latest prey. Crossing your arms defensively, not that there was anything to hide. You were in your ratty pj’s, they were on sale at Old Navy a few years ago and you never threw them away even though they barely fit anymore.

“If you’re so interested in being a cuck,” he grinned at you, flashing his crooked teeth, “I would love to have you over for an encore, I’m sure you’d love to watch me in action.”

“Buzz off, Ren.”

“Ooo, angry tonight,” he smirked, now stepping out of his door frame. You choked a little at his appearance, no shirt on, basketball shorts barely hanging off his hips. Dangerously low, seriously, if he took one wrong move they would be on the floor. His chest was covered in fresh scratch marks, no doubt from his latest victim, a sheen of sweat glistening under the lights.

Fuck, he was good-looking.

But he was terrible.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, daring you to stare back at him.

You gulped, caught again. You were better than that, you were just tired from being kept up since ten with his version of ‘love-making’.

“My eyes are up here cupcake,” he stepped forward. Pushing you back into your doorframe, almost inside your sanctuary. “If you ever decide you want to break your vow of chastity, I’m right next door.”

“Step away from me, Kylo.”

He cocked his brow, “I love when you’re mean, come on. Let’s see if kitty has claws.”

You bared your teeth, fists balling under your underarms, “Not even if you were the last man on Earth.”

He shrugged, backing away from you.

“Deal, bitch.”

You moved to shut your door on him, “Go away.”

“See you in class, bright and early.”

------

When you imagined leaving for college, it was different.

Saying goodbye to your parents, packing your car with whatever small valuables you owned. Determined to make a name for yourself all the way across the country, no friends or family, truly on your own. You imagined everything would be different, the dorm would be filled with new and friendly faces.

RA’s greeting you as you parked outside, giving you a tour and maybe a group lunch with all your floormates. Getting to know each other, maybe even going to some new-student orientation event they planned for the newbies.

Classes were smooth, acing all your major requirements. Professors were kind and ready to help you at any moment, letting your artistic vision flow through your body every morning with your 8 AM yoga class.

But no.

Instead, you registered late.

Your classes all at the worst times, bright and early.

Second rate dorm, COED even… smelly dudes between your single bedroom which would be better defined as a broom closet. Burping and fucking on both sides of you while you tried to study. Your major requirement classes were boring and filled with pretentious art students who thought they were the next Picasso.

Professors didn’t care if you lived or died, only focusing on the bell schedule because they couldn’t control what the freshmen did in their classes.

Your options for clubs were limited, either join a sport or a cult.

And worst of all.

Kylo Ren.

He was your neighbor, signed up late just like you. You actually arrived at the same time, he pushed you down on your ass in the lobby so he could be checked in first. Calling you a clumsy bitch, only for you both to be handed keys to the same floor. Right next to each other, sharing a flimsy wall.

On top of that, he was an art major like you.

And since he registered late, he was in almost every class.

Even yoga!

He took your mat the first day, leaving you in tears in the hallway. He apologized afterward, handing it back to you before storming off to be with his beefy upper-class friends. Any moment he could, Ren would humiliate you. Trying to push your buttons, whistling at you when you had to cross the hallway to the showers. Tripping you when you had your hands full, making fun of you for hanging out with your sparse group of friends.

And when he found out you were annoyed with him making noise, he latched onto it.

One week he decided to recite the entire Phantom of the Opera, just because you mentioned in class that you loved that play.

He did every part, even the musical scores, you could’ve sworn he did it with a megaphone on the wall, just to spite you.

Your parents told you ‘he just likes you, he’s a boy.’

No!

That’s not how people express feelings, at least not healthy people.

Your alarm clock blared on your nightstand, you didn’t sleep so it didn’t bother you. Letting out a heavy sigh of defeat, Ren ruined another night for you, a night you’d never get back. Of precious, precious sleep that you desperately deserved.

Slipping on some plum leggings and a sports bra. No one gave a fuck about your outfit in your early morning class, as long as you went with clothes on. You popped on your headphones, trying to drone out the noise of Ren’s music through the wall. He liked to blast some god-awful music every morning.

Today, it was an old Black Veil Brides album!

You made it out of the dining hall, snatching a muffin for breakfast. Smiling at some guys you knew, waving at your friend Rose as you stormed off to the gym. The cold chill of Winter biting at your nose, it was too cold to not wear a full outfit. But there was no time, with Ren keeping you up all night and classes back to back, you didn’t have time to fuck around with dressing up.

Ren ran in after you, laughing with his friends. Big nose all red from the frost, his hair looked frozen to his scalp, probably showered beforehand. You rolled out your mat, trying to stretch while he bragged about the pussy he got last night. Making a big show of your complaining, saying you were desperate to fuck him based on your whining.

You rolled your eyes when he planted next to you, “Good morning, you ran out in a hurry.”

“I didn’t want to be late,” you sneered, not giving him the time of day, still stretching your back into child's-pose.

“How are we supposed to walk together if you run away from me, cupcake?”

You scoffed, shooting him an icy glare. Despite him grinning at you like the happiest man on Earth, god, you needed to stop giving him a reaction. That would shut him up if you didn’t give him the attention he is clearly lacking from his parental figures.

“Good morning class,” your teacher greeted you calmly, “I hope you’re all doing well. As you all know, this next week is finals week, I’m offering makeup classes to those of you who need to make up some credit hours. We are also hosting some meditation if you need time to relax between classes.”

Next to you, Ren leaned towards your mat, setting his hand right behind your back. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was hovering. Ready to devour you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he chuckled.

You stayed quiet, pushing back into his arm so he would move. Ren stayed put, purring in your ear, “Did you sleep well?”

“Move off my mat, Ren.”

He smirked down at you, “You seem stressed, do you want me to help by fucking your brains out.”

You shot off your mat, effectively knocking him onto his back. Laughing loudly in a relatively silent room of students trying to center themselves. He grinned from the floor, hands up in the air in defense, “I’m just offering to help you, Jesus!”

“Just,” you pointed in his face, hair falling out of your ponytail. Everyone was staring at you, even your instructor. Shocked you were yelling, you barely spoke in class, at the scariest person in your class.

“Just, leave me alone.”

------

Ren avoided you for the rest of the week, mostly.

Still had his nightly fuck-more subdued though, you had on noise-canceling headphones to try and focus on studying. There were still so many classes to get to, and you wouldn’t be finished until the day before Winter break… you were desperate to get this over with.

You missed your family, the plane ticket itself cost you a whole month of meals.

Of course, you would do fine in your classes, it was just the motivation to get there. Every morning you glared at Ren when he greeted you in yoga, still standing next to you like a menacing shadow.

This morning was no different, only you skipped class to study in the library. Bundled up in your winter coat, long black scarf, hair in a lazy braid, and thermal leggings on. The wind had picked up last night, bringing on an ice storm that wasn’t expected until late next week. You walked on treacherous sidewalks, dodging all the other students who were seeking the warmth of the library.

You settled inside, sprawling your books and laptop on an old desk. Grabbing out a few sketch pads so you could finish up some pieces that were due in a couple hours. Most of your finals in art were ‘unconventional’ which meant the professor wanted to see what you were motivated to work on during the year.

For yours, you had decided to draw the people you saw on campus.

Studying their faces, mannerisms, languages while they were in an organic environment. It was a great piece, and one of your professors was very interested in showcasing it in a show. You were proud, it wasn’t large but it was important for you and you wanted it to be perfect before turning it in.

Your pastels were spread out, fingertips smudged and stained from charcoal, a few lines on your face and brow from forgetting about the streaks. There was this one person you couldn’t finish, it was one of your friends from last week. She was laughing and holding a drink, the expression wide and full of emotion but it was hard for you to capture without her being there.

But you steeled yourself, you weren’t leaving this spot until you finished her.

“You smudged that dude's face,” a low voice rumbled behind you. A finger pointing down at the top left corner, “Stop-don’t touch it.”

You moved to swat the hand away, not wanting some random guy to ruin your piece with their grubby fingers. Recentering yourself, he wasn’t smudged, he was just in the corner so it looked like it wasn’t finished… what did he know, anyway?

“You didn’t draw me?”

Now you stopped, why you didn’t recognize the timbre of his voice was ridiculous.

You let out a long sigh, “Please, don’t touch the canvas, Kylo. It’s not ready, yet.”

The chair that housed your backpack slid out next to you, your things tossed on the ground carelessly before Ren sat. You scooted away from him, he smelled like he just showered. Judging by his wet hair you were probably right… “What are you doing?”

He shrugged, fiddling with one of your notebooks. Flipping through pages carelessly, “I don’t know-you weren’t in yoga so.”

“So,” you gave him a weird look, “You stalked me to the library?”

“There’s no reason to go to yoga if I can’t bother you,” he flashed a smile, dropping it slightly when he saw you weren’t playing back with him.

Silence fell over you both, the only noises the heat kicking in around the scuffling of boots and shoes to face the weather again.

“I like your piece,” he gestured to your work, “For drawing, right?”

You nodded stiffly, not enjoying his friendly tone. Like he wasn’t your demon neighbor who made it his job to annoy you and had for the past four months of your life. Ren shifted again, now leaning on the table with his cheek resting on his forearm. Looking at you with wide eyes, you never took the time to look at his face.

He had very large eyes that betrayed his emotions. Swimming with flecks of auburn, gold, and some streaks of green, blinking slowly as he studied your canvas. You looked away from him, trying to ignore the urge to draw them, how his long lashes rivaled your own. How his skin was freckled with beauty marks, creases from frowning lined his forehead and nose. You could even make out his stubble, some pieces he must’ve missed the last time he shaved.

You went back to drawing, no longer focusing on it. Just trying to understand what was happening, your tormentor was a foot away from you. Breathing calmly like a cat laying in a patch of sun. Hunched over the edge, torso too long to rest like a normally proportioned human being, had he always been this big?

“Wanna get coffee before class?”

“Huh?”

You blinked slowly, not registering that he spoke to you.

Ren leaned off, letting out a big yawn and scratching the back of his neck.

Yes, definitely a cat.

“Do you want to get coffee,” he stared blankly, “Before we head to English?”

You looked down at your mess, then back up at him. Shaking your head softly, voice quiet as a mouse, “No-thank you.”

He exhaled harshly, “I’m not gonna burn you with it, it’s just coffee.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said firmer, “I wanna work on this some more.”

Ren stayed still, probably trying to think of a way to get you to agree with him. You had known him long enough to know he doesn’t like people disagreeing with him. Didn’t have to be a college graduate to see that the man had issues with control, hence terrorizing you all semester. You didn’t want to offer him an olive branch, because he was just doing it as a joke. Probably, waiting until you were calm around him to do something cruel.

You went back to drawing, listening to him get up and leave you. Mumbling something under his breath about ‘trying to be nice’ before walking out. You shook off the awkwardness, not willing to break down and let him do something nice for you, just because he didn’t ruin your final piece didn’t mean he wouldn’t do something in the future.

The day was still young.

------

Oddly enough, Ren didn’t bother you that evening.

Not even a door slam!

You almost thought he was dead, but you saw him in the hallway when you were walking to the bathroom. Wrapped in your robe, caddy in hand, he didn’t whistle or try to touch your ass like he normally did. Just a stale smile before closing himself back in his room.

Not to waste the precious quiet, you went to work packing your bags for your trip tomorrow. Deciding to do a quick load of laundry, your hall was almost empty, so no one would be down there while you waited.

Piling up your hamper, you threw your pj's and slippers on. Remembering to grab a blanket and your laptop so you could hang out down there while you waited.

Your friends back home were all excited to see you, ready to hear all about your time away. The boys you met, friends you made, classes, all that. So excited to get home and see your cat, Gremlin, he was all alone without you. Your mom sent you pictures earlier of him curled in your blankets, saying that he knew you were coming home soon.

Maybe next Fall you could get an apartment, you didn’t want to leave him for another year.

A washing machine door slammed shut next to you, causing you to jump from your perch atop your own. Faced with Ren, who was doing his laundry in his pjs, or his version of pjs. Giving you another tight-lipped smile before leaning against the far wall. Yawning loudly before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

You ignored him, turning back to your laptop that was playing a crime documentary. Texting some friends to keep your mind from wandering to Ren and why he was in such a mood.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Ren called from his wall.

You pretended to not hear him, refocusing on the documentary, there was something very interesting happening and you weren’t about to miss how they found the killer's shoe prints in the mud just because Ren was trying to talk to you.

Then something was thrown at you, and it smelled awful.

“Oh-my-god!”

You shot off the washing machine, throwing down the offending garment. Ren was laughing loudly, “Chill out! It was just an old shirt!”

“How old was it?!”

He smiled at you from the ground, propping an elbow on his kneecap. One leg stretched out on the tile, you tried to regain a sense of calm, he was just messing with you again. Just take some deep breaths… in-out-in

“Are you leaving tomorrow, after our final?”

You let out your deep breath, sitting back on the washer. “Yeah,” you paused your show since mister meanie wanted to have a tea party. “I have to get to the airport right after.”

He hummed, “Same.”

The washer beeped loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty room. Ren watched you hop off, fixing your shorts which definitely rode up too much. Trying to not flash him your underwear as you bent to move your clothes to a dryer. You cursed when a sock fell from your pile, great.

“How come we’ve never fucked?”

Now all your clothes were on the floor.

Along with Ren, who was staring at you like you were an art exhibit.

You dragged your clothes back to the washer. There was no way you were finishing now that they touched the dirty floor, no one cleaned down here and just because it looked clean didn’t mean-

A whistle, “You good over there?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” you heard him stretch, popping his joints as he lifted off the floor. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he closed in. Almost touching you, no escape, “As I was saying, how come you’ve never let me steal your virginity?”

You scoffed, “I am not a virgin.”

Ren pressed into you, pushing you against the washer now. Grinding his hips into your own, you squirmed, trying to dispel every fantasy flooding your brain. Every night you spent listening to him through the wall, imagining just once that it was you. If he weren’t such a monster, you would have gladly laid on your back and let him do whatever he wanted.

“Nothing?”

You took a deep breath, placing both palms on the top of the washer. Biting your lip as you silently pleaded for him to let you go, but also continue. You could smell his cologne from this close, how it complimented him so well. Mixing in with his dark aura, you wanted nothing more than to spin around and…

Soon you were doing just that, but not on your own violation.

Ren had his hands grasping your hips, thumbs slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt to caress your soft skin. Lips capturing your own, you froze in his hold. Unsure of what to do, a part of you wanted to scream and smack him, but the other part loved the smell of his toothpaste.

He relaxed when you relaxed, your lips still awkwardly locked together. Not opening and allowing for more, but not moving away either. You stared at him, startled to see him looking back at you. Pulling back slightly, you watched his face chase yours. Bringing your lips together a few more times, kissing at the seam.

You felt his tongue flick for entry, trying to pry your mouth open so he could explore. When you didn’t move he finally huffed in annoyance, “I know it’s your first kiss, but you’re supposed to open your mouth.”

You groaned, bringing both hands to cradle his cheeks. There was no way he was going to make fun of you, he initiated this so.

Ren made a muffled noise when you pressed your lips back together. Probably of shock and surprise, because, no. This was not your first kiss, not even your fourth or fifth kiss. Working your tongue skillfully into his mouth, you moaned softly at his taste. Just like you imagined… not that you put much stock into this but… it was wonderful.

Bringing your fingers to the nape of his neck, tugging on his dark brown hair. Just like you always wanted to, whenever he walked past you with it tied in a bun you dreamt of tearing through it. Ren returned your affection in kind, his left hand moving to the small of your back. Fingers dancing under the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

You heard him swear when he felt the lace underneath, nestled between your cheeks. Ren slid a hand over the globes of your ass, moving his hips in time with his tongue. Tasting every inch of your mouth, even growling in approval when you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip.

Petting and groping each other against the washing machines, the sound of you swapping spit barely heard over the rumble of your clothes. Ren had gotten sick of grinding against your hip bone, pulling away from you for a moment. Shushing your pathetic whimpers, he hooked the hand not cupping your ass behind your left knee.

Hiking it over his hip, opening your legs up. Allowing him to assault your center with his straining erection, oh you could picture it now. How easy it would be to just let him slip inside you.

Right here, in the laundry room.

*Beep*

You pulled back roughly, barely able to unsuction your lips from Rens' own. A string of spit connecting your kiss-bitten lips, he looked at you with pleading eyes. Grinding himself against you harder, pulling a few soft mewls from your throat.

“I need to switch my clothes,” you croaked.

He nodded, shakily setting your limb back on the floor and backing away. You watched through your own lust-filled state as he trembled. Walking back to his far wall, a hand cupping his cock through his sweats. Your throat clicked as you took in a much-needed breath, doing what you said you would.

Setting them in the dryer, all the more aware of his eyes watching your every move.

Not sparing him a glance when you sat back on the washer.

Turning on your laptop once again to watch your crime documentary.

Ignoring the throbbing between your legs, his deep breaths, and your shaking limbs.

------

The TV’s at the airport all said the same thing, “Record snowfall this winter, right before the holidays! Experts say that we will be lucky to keep power until it passes. Our friends on the west coast are enjoying a white Christmas, while we’re stuck in the North Pole.”

All flights have been grounded until further notice.

Stuck.

You could barely make it back to your dorm without crashing.

Bursting into tears several times when you realized you wouldn’t be home until it was over. Wouldn't be able to safely leave your dorm room until it passed, leaving you utterly alone.

You had emailed your RA letting him know your bad luck, he let the staff know you’d be there so they would have food and water running still.

But other than that, this was your holiday.

You slipped on the walk up to your room, sobbing loudly in the halls as you clutched your luggage. No going home, no seeing your friends or family, no Christmas dinner, no personal shower, no Gremlin to sleep on your face.

Collapsing on your bed, curling yourself in the multitude of pillows and blankets that adorned it. The room had shitty heating, the entire building had shitty heating. The entire month of December you’d been freezing, and no amount of personal heaters could fix this kind of cold.

You drifted off to sleep after crying for a few hours, letting your parents know what was happening. Setting alerts for earlier flights, anything you could do to get home. You were so tired in fact, that you slept through a power outage. Leaving the entire building to shut down, no backup generators.

And no heat.

It wasn’t until you felt yourself being lifted that you woke up to the commotion.

Squirming in the kidnappers' arms, limbs aching from freezing for a time in your bedroom. The window must’ve cracked open because it was much colder than when you arrived. Your attacker didn’t let you go, growling in your ear to be still.

Dragging you out of the building, towards a car you didn’t notice when you pulled in. With the snow swirling all around, it was a miracle they could see their own vehicle. You were thrown in the front seat, followed by your luggage tossed in the back. You stayed still, every time you moved it hurt, hypothermia. Common in the New England storms if you were foolish enough to be outside…

You about passed out when the driver's side door opened, Ren climbed in. Looking just as frozen as you, slamming the door shut and mumbling something as he started his car. You could’ve cried when the engine turned, heat blasting between the both of you.

“Hands,” his teeth chattered, holding his own out. He nodded for you to do the same, grasping your pink fingers between his own and blowing on them. “Power went out,” Ren took a shallow breath, “I was leaving and I saw your car. You were almost frozen to your bed, the window broke.”

“Th-thank you-u-u.”

Ren cringed at your fingers, slowly gaining back their normal color. “I tried to grab everything I could, like your backpack and luggage. But we can’t stay there, we’ll fucking freeze.”

You nodded, tugging your hands away to curl into your chest. Thankful that Ren had enough sense to grab blankets, stuffing them in your lap from the backseat. You thought about grabbing your phone, but you could barely make a fist so it would do you no good.

“My plane g-g-got ground-d-ed.”

Ren shivered, nodding sharply, “Mine too, my mom got me a hotel room not far from here to stay until the storm passes. So, I’m taking us there.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract him from the treacherous roads. Thank god he had a Jeep, or else you would’ve died. You couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, less than that when you were on the highway out of the city.

Ren kept mumbling things like it’s okay, I’m sorry, I know it's cold, whenever you shivered and took in sharp breaths. You must’ve been out for a while, to get this bad. A quick look at the clock in his car said you’d been asleep for three hours, who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t noticed your car…

He helped you out, more carried you, towards the check-in desk. Too worried you would pass out in the car if he left you for too long, the front desk lady was quick and sweet. Making sure to send up extra blankets and pillows to your suite. Ren had you walk up with him, so he wouldn’t have to carry you and the luggage on separate trips.

You clutched his hand like a child, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. But he was so warm, it’s all you could think about. All you wanted was to be warm, nodding blindly to whatever Ren said to do.

Plug your phone in, check.

Let him talk to your mom, check.

Draw a bath for you, check.

Climb in the bath with you, double-check.

It wasn’t until you were defrosted in the clawfoot tub that you realized you were naked with him.

Rens chest against your back, holding you like his life depended on it. Judging by his shaking, you both were probably suffering from acute hypothermia. You had been silent for so long your voice spooked him a little, “Thank you.”

He hummed into your hair, which was sitting on top of your head in a messy bun. “Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, “Can we go lay down?”

“Yeah,” Ren hastily got out of the tub, draining it and wrapping you in plush towels. You were still too cold to blush from your nakedness, not how you pictured this going. You imagined you would finally give into him on some drunken party night, barely remembering his reaction to seeing you nude.

But now he had seen you half-frozen, forced to cradle you back to life.

------

You squinted from your cocoon, greeted by a dimly lit room.

One spare lamp on a dingy-looking nightstand, well it wasn’t terrible. It was better than your nightstand in your dorm room… where was your dorm room anyway?

Something vibrated behind you, followed by a heavyweight sprawling against your back.

You held your breath, you were in a hotel.

With a stranger.

“Shit,” you whispered.

Okay, you could wiggle out of here. You took a moment to study the room, there was the lamp from before, and some curtains on a metal rod in the far corner. If you managed to get out without being detected you could knock out the assailant.

“You smell so good.”

More weight settled on you, now you were trapped. This bear was closing in, who knows what happened while you were asleep! All you could remember was falling asleep at your dorm after the upsetting trip to the airport, then being dragged away.

Your fingers burning when you tried to use them, being shoved in a car…

Kylo.

“Kylo?!”

“Mhm.”

You threw your arms up, successfully throwing him off you and the covers. Your limbs screaming at the sudden movement, you were still suffering from the cold. Next to you, curled in a ball, totally catlike, was Ren.

A sleepy smile gracing his lips, hands curled under his cheek, and legs moving towards his chest, Like a child under a blanket. You gasped when you saw he was naked, “Fuck!”

You were too.

“What the fuck, Ren!?”

“Stop yelling,” you watched his hand bat his nose like an animal, “Come back, you were warm.”

You huffed, flailing off the bed in search of your bags.

Memories flooding back to you, he took you here after saving your life.

The bath.

Ugh, bad time to remember your kiss the night before.

Ren sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly. You flushed red when you looked between his legs, shit. How does he walk around with that? Is that why he has bad posture? You choked on your spit when he spread his legs out.

Sprawling completely on the mattress like he wasn’t in a room with a stranger.

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” Ren yawned, snapping a hand and pointing between his legs, “Come back.”

“I’m not doing anything until you have clothes on.”

He rolled his eyes, now looking you up and down. Focusing on your bare tits, swinging around with your erratic movements. You watched him lick his lips, wagging his eyebrows, “Come on, don’t you want to sit back on the bed?”

You shook your head, crouching down to your bag. Trying to not flash him more of your goods, but that didn’t work. Not with him leaning to the side of the bed to make a show of him peeping on you.

A wolfish grin splitting his face, “You have a nice ass.”

“Can you stop,” you huffed, tugging on some sweats you found.

Ren made a pouting noise when you stood, pushing his bottom lip out while you threaded your arms through a t-shirt. You shivered a little-it was still freezing in the room. Probably from the weather, it sounded like it got worse… hopefully this place would keep power.

You looked back at the bed, Ren was still manspreading. One of his large paws crawling towards his cock, watching you with the same smirk. He let out a soft sigh when he touched himself, eyes momentarily shutting in bliss.

“Do you have to do that with me here?”

He cracked an eye open, “Do you have to be that far away?”

You scoffed, moving to the corner of the room. Shivering since you were near the window, you plopped down in the cheap armchair. Ignoring the sounds of his fist gliding along his cock, you tucked your feet under your body. Humming a tune to ignore the arousal growing between your legs, there was no way you were caving to him.

What kind of man does that with a complete stranger present!?

More importantly, why was it turning you on?

“Come here,” he whistled, you spared a glance at him. Blushing profusely at the sight, his cock was now fully erect. Standing tall and proud, tip flushed almost purple from want. You quickly looked away, trying to swallow down the drool that gathered in your mouth.

What would happen if you gave in?

Not like it would hurt you… he looked so delicious.

“If I come over there, what's gonna happen,” you whispered, determined to stay put.

With a deep breath, the mattress groaned under his weight, probably leaning back to get comfortable. He seemed to love you being there, watching him, or trying not to. Ren made a small non-committal scoff, “Whatever you want to happen, baby.”

“Don’t call me that, you know my name.”

“Meow.”

Your head snapped towards him, met with his grin. “Come on-you really want me to do this by myself?” he waved his cock, fist tight around the base. You rolled your eyes, training your eyes to focus on the least attractive part about him.

You were coming up empty, all you could stare at was his cock.

The prominent vein along the underside thrumming in time with his heartbeat. You could practically feel it along your tongue, rigid and stiff. Slowly, you stood from the chair, met with a soft whine from Ren. Eying your hungrily as you sauntered over, you planted a knee in the mattress.

Between his legs, which were spread obscenely wide, he licked his lips in anticipation.

“If I help you, are you going to be nicer to me?”

He nodded, chest taking in sharp breaths. You slowly leaned back on your heels, stripping your top off, despite him seeing you naked earlier. Surprised when he bit his bottom lip, watching you play with your tits, rolling them in the palm of your hand. Just to make him squirm a bit, “I’ll be nicer, whatever you want.”

“I’m really cold still,” you spoke softly, making sure to lean in close enough to graze his lips with your own before pulling away, “Can you help warm me up?”

“Yes,” Ren's hands shot out, kneading your flesh a few times. Debating to grasp your tits or the small of your waist, like a kid in a candy store. So many options, but you didn’t want to wait. If you were doing this, it would be about you.

“Eat me out.”

He stilled, cocking a brow, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you exhaled on his neck, being sure to drag your kitty claws along his chest. Briefly grazing his nipples, savoring the way he gasped. “Eat me out, if you make me cum, I’ll let you fuck me. Like the desperate slut you are.”

Ren scowled for a moment, nudging your face from his neck. Eyes dancing across your face before capturing your lips, moaning softly in your mouth, “I can make you cum so hard you’ll never want another man again.”

You placed a soft kiss, rolling onto your back dramatically. Splaying your legs wide, “If that's true, why do you fuck a different girl every week?”

He growled at you, actually growled.

Hands no longer soft in their quest to memorize your skin, instead Ren pinned your legs hard enough for them to pop. Making you squeal from the stretch, “How fast do you think I can make you cum? Hm?”

Before you could answer, he dove in.

Lips wrapping around your clit and suckling fast, tongue flicking out every few seconds. You were already bucking up to meet him, but his firm hold kept you flush. While his tongue began to lap thick stripes along the seam of your pussy. Briefly hooking the tip into your entrance, both of you moaning when he tasted your wetness.

“Shit-Kylo!”

“Mm,” his voice vibrated against your clit, continuing his assault until you choked on your spit. You buried your fingers in his hair, keeping him in that right spot. “I’m so fucking close,” you cried out, pleading his name over and over and over.

“You know,” he popped off, smacking his lips that were glistening with your cum, “I’d rather you cum on my cock.”

“Wait-”

Ren flipped you onto your chest, yanking your hips into the air. You barely had time to take a breath before he shoved his cock inside you. His breath hitched as he sank to the hilt, you groaned at the stretch. Now this, this you could get used to.

He pulled out slowly, you heard him swear under his breath. Leaving just the tip of his cock inside and ramming his hips into yours. Pulling a loud scream from your lungs, Ren chuckled at that. Pumping his cock at a rough pace, “Shh-you’re going to upset our neighbors.”

You huffed, cheap shot, angling your hips a little so his cock would rub up against your front wall. Moaning when he picked up the pace, skin slapping skin. Ren leaned over your form, planting a hand on the headboard to keep it from knocking. You weakly lifted your head, clenching at the sight of his knuckles turning white.

All you could do was sit and take it, revealing in the bliss you’d denied yourself for four months.

-------

Ren dropped you both off at the airport two days later.

You spent three days together, fucking each other's brains out.

Choking on his cock while he was brushing his teeth, eating you out while you read through your newsfeed. Bouncing on his cock while he fed you breakfast, you didn’t need to change clothes the entire vacation.

But you wanted to go home and were thankful for the storm ending so you could head home. It was a little awkward, Ren wasn’t very excited about the snow stopping. It felt like he was trying to stall you leaving but reluctantly listened to your desire to fly home.

“Got everything?” he mumbled, hitching his backpack over his shoulder. The two of you were waiting in the TSA line, about to part ways to head home. You nodded, giving him a tight smile before stepping up on your own.

Ignoring the feeling of his eyes on the back of your head.

Both of you stood awkwardly after making it through, “Well-my gates over here,” you pointed behind you. Ren hummed in acknowledgment, kicking at the ground instead of looking at you.

“Thanks for letting me crash with you,” you tried again, still nothing.

You groaned, spinning on your heel. Back to being an asshole, you were kicking yourself for thinking he would be nicer. All he wanted was some pussy, and you willingly gave into him when you should’ve remained strong.

Your parents picked you up back at home, lots of tears and laughs were shared. Thankful that you made it home without freezing, your mom was grateful for your friend who saved your life. She wanted to call him and tell him how much she appreciated it but you shrugged it off, he was just being nice. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything, you left out the part that he was the neighbor you always complained about.

Collapsing on your bed felt surreal like you would wake up and be back in the hotel room at any moment. It was odd not sleeping next to him, you had grown accustomed to his clingy arms. Circling you in the middle of the night when he thought you were dead asleep, smelling your hair before tucking you into his naked chest.

You tossed and turned all night, groaning when you were woken by your siblings to get up the next morning. Barely sleeping a wink, you resolved to take a nap later to try and not spoil your trip back home.

At breakfast, your mom yelled at you from the kitchen.

“Hey hon, someone’s calling you!”

“Just answer it,” you groaned through a mouthful of cereal. Briefly hearing your mother answer in a typical chipper tone, stalling mid-sentence before she yelled again, “It’s someone named Kyle?”

Shit, you shot to the kitchen.

Snatching the phone and escaping to the living room where no one was hiding.

“Kylo?”

Hey, didn’t think you’d answer.

“How’d you get my number?”

Took it while you were napping the other day, I knew you wouldn’t give it to me willingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright creeper, what’s up?”

Just wanted to talk or whatever, felt weird not to.

Silence.

Are you gonna let me buy you coffee when we are back?

“You were being serious about that?”

A scoff.

Yeah-or we could just fuck again if that’s all you want from this.

“Coffee sounds good.”

Cool. Cool.

It’s a date.

-------

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

#adamdriver #adam driver #kylo ren #anon asked #create a scenerio #modern kylo ren #college kylo ren #roomates trope

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my-happy-little-bean · 3 years

Text

The Rainbow Manor

pairing: platonic DLAMP words: 5138 warnings: swearing, references to homophobia, toxic/homophobic parents, brief description of a small injury, blood, brief descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, crying, angst

a/n - hello friends! hope everyone is doing well! i was lucky enough to be commissioned by the lovely @youronelesbianfriend to write this story (side note, their commissions are open too so...whatcha still doin here, go and do that!). i was overjoyed when i saw the prompt she gave me, and had such a good time writing it! (also inspired me to maybe formally advertise commissions? you can peek at my tumblr every now and then to see if i do, but if you also want one you can DM me!)

so without further ado, here is some content ✨

read on ao3!

—

The Rainbow Manor is a lot of things.

It’s a home for the biggest family that could exist. It’s a safe haven from the cold, stormy outdoors. It’s the kind of blanket made of the same velvet the night sky is made of; it’s quiet, it’s warm, and it’s filled with stars. All it takes is one step inside and you would find yourself filled with a sense of belonging, of hope.

You could run the furthest distance away from it all, and the Rainbow Manor would always open its doors to you.

Patton would know. He was the first one to try.

~*~

“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Roman Prince said, looking down at his clipboard as he weaved him and Patton through the halls. “I was going to show the new people around myself, but then I forgot the paperwork in your office — and then I realized, ‘hey, what better person to show them around than The Man himself!’; capital T, capital M!”

Patton half-heartedly smiled as he snuck a peek at Roman’s papers.

“How many are there?”

“Three, so it won’t be too bad. One of them’s Virgil — you remember Virgil, right?”

“Right.” Patton smiled fondly, remembering Roman’s birthday party last year. Him and Virgil had shown up covered in cake. He never really saw Virgil after that day, but clearly him and Roman stayed acquainted against all odds.

They turned a corner into the break room where three people sat around a table. Roman clapped his hands.

“Alrighty! Sorry for the wait.”

All three of them stood up. The one in the black and purple hoodie—the one Patton recognized as Virgil—rolled his eyes.

“Waiting is part of the contract with you, Princey.”

Roman faux-gasped. “Hey, that was one time! And if I didn’t take too long that day, we would have taken the wrong cake!”

“We did take the wrong cake, Roman. That’s why it exploded.”

“...Oh yeah.” Roman grinned. “Forgot about that.”

Virgil shook his head, but showed a hint of a smile. Patton took a step forward to extend his hand out to him.

“Nice to see you again, Virgil!” He then addressed the two behind him. “And if we’re talking cake, I guess you both can call me Patton-cake!”

The one wearing a black, short-sleeve button up frowned, adjusting their thin blue tie.

“I read on the website that your name is Patton Morgan.”

“It’s like patty-cake, but Patton-cake!”

“...Right.”

“Ignore my friend’s simply lively commentary.” The last person stepped forward. They wore a pale-yellow button up under a grey vest. “That’s Logan. Do not be astounded by how that pencil is both sharp and dull — he’s always like that.”

“And that’s Janus,” Logan seethed, crossing his arms. “They’re always like that.”

Patton chuckled. “Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’ll show you guys around?”

They all nodded, following Patton as he led them out the door. The icy awkwardness of first encounters fortunately thawed as conversation quickly blossomed. Patton learned that Logan was the new volunteer manager and was close friends with Janus, who was joining the growing team of counsellors. Virgil, on the other hand, was the newly-appointed social media and communications coordinator; a position Roman used to double as alongside being head of recreation and programming, until he overdid it with the website graphics and crashed the site for two days. Sometimes, change was necessary, Patton learned.

“So that’s pretty much the whole place!” Patton said brightly at the end of the tour, stopping outside his office. He handed them their job description packages. “I hope you all get situated soon! And if you ever need anything, you now know where my office is!” He motioned to the door with jazz-hands. “Here!”

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan hummed. He looked around idly. “I must say, I am rather impressed by how well-established and organized the facility is, especially for one that is fairly new.”

“Well call me corny, ‘cause all I can say is ‘aw shucks’!” Patton beamed. “You know, if you told me almost a year ago that I’d be standing here today, I think I’d be impressed too!” He nudged at Roman. “But I obviously didn’t do any of it alone. It’s the people that really make this place home — people like Roman, who’s been with me since the very beginning!”

“Oh, Patton! You make me sound like the hero of this place.” Roman pretended to flip his hair. “So thank you!”

“A humble hero,” Virgil retorted. Roman just stuck out his tongue at him.

“But in all seriousness, Patton’s downplaying his efforts to the floor!” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist and pulled him in close. He waved out in front of him. “He’s a true phoenix who rose from the ashes and built this place with his own two hands!” Roman then spun Patton away from him, a trail of giggles following suit. “Plus he does a bunch of other stuff too! He has, like, a gazillion side-gigs, he sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter…”

“It sounds like you may also be interested in a day off,” Janus piped up.

“It’s really not that much!” Patton awkwardly shuffled where he stood. “I...I like staying busy.”

Janus tilted their head at him. “Right.”

Patton shot them a quick smile before diving back into the end of their paperwork. Then the three of them, along with Roman, said their goodbyes and scattered to their respective offices.

Patton leaned against his office door with a wry smile. They all seemed like nice people, he thought. He was lucky to have them.

(Roman’s words from weeks ago echoed in his head; the same words that were said to him the night of his first breakdown, when they first called.

“You need all the help you can get, Pat.”)

And he needed all the help he could get.

~*~

A few days later, Patton found himself leaning against the front of his desk, outstretching his hand towards the teen in front of him.

“Jonah, your feelings are valid, no matter what they are.”

The words slid off Patton’s tongue almost effortlessly. Jonah sniffled.

“I know, Pat. And– and I’ve already made a lot of friends here that have told me that. It’s been so good for me here, but…” Jonah buried their face in their hands. “Every night before I go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about what they told me before they kicked me out. It’s like I get tunnel vision. I can see the person I have grown to be on the other side, but all I’m doing is going backwards.”

Jonah looked up at Patton with teary eyes. “And I don’t wanna go back, Patton. I...I don’t want to go back.”

Patton felt a chill run through his spine. Quiet echoes buried themselves in the back of his mind.

“I understand that it’s difficult to feel like you’re moving forward when it feels like the most important people in your life are pushing you back. And it...it sucks. I’m so sorry.” Patton swallowed down the temptation to cave as he continued. “I...I think all we can do is remember that those important forces in your life aren’t what’s given to you, but are what’s found. And I feel like you’ve done a lot of searching — for now, try and let yourself be found.”

Jonah broke into a small smile. Before Patton knew it, the teen stumbled forward into an embrace, holding Patton tight and crying. Patton’s hands hovered in the air behind their back, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Patton came to his senses and hugged them back.

“I’m thankful I found this place,” Jonah mumbled into Patton’s chest. “It’s– it’s built on a lot of hope. I don’t think I could have found it anywhere else.”

Patton’s heart shattered.

‘I wish I could give you more.’ He squeezed Jonah tighter. ‘I’d give you all I had, and you’d never know.’

Jonah left a few minutes later, thanking Patton for giving them a space to be honest. All Patton could do was nod numbly. He knew Jonah was new and it was hard to be new here, but Patton was certain that they’d find their place. The kids who came here always did.

Patton walked around his desk to sit down. He took one look at his phone, frowned, then set it aside with a sigh. For a brief moment, Patton relished sitting in the precious silence that finally found his office.

Then, a knock on his door.

“Come in!” Patton said, straightening up and folding his hands neatly on his desk. The door cracked open and Logan’s head peeked in.

“Is this a good time, Patton?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Logan stepped inside and handed some papers to Patton.

“I filed through the volunteer applications and started arranging interviews in the coming weeks. I just wanted to run the dates by you before I start contacting people. Hopefully they suffice.”

“Wow! Thank you, Lo.” Patton took the papers, slowly sifting through them. “These look really good! I’ll have a look at them tonight.”

“Tonight?” Logan echoed. “Are you staying late again?”

“Oh! Yeah, I am.” Patton shrugged. “Just a bit of extra paperwork.”

“Well if you require any assistance tonight, I can stay around–”

“No, no! That won’t be necessary.” Patton waved his hand dismissively. “Go and enjoy your night, Lo.”

Logan’s stare seemed to bury itself through Patton, enough for Patton to look away.

“...Well, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

As Logan was leaving, Patton felt his phone buzz. He snuck a peek and paled.

‘Missed call(s): Mother (2) - 5:34 PM’

“Um, leave the door open, Lo!” Patton suddenly blurted out. Logan turned around and tilted his head. Patton flimsily added, “I– I think I’m going to try and get some air.”

Logan nodded, lifting his hand off the door handle before walking out. Patton took a deep breath and then stuffed his phone in his pocket before leaving as well.

—

Later that evening, Patton wandered into his office in a daze. He turned the lights on and inwardly groaned at the stacks of paper awaiting him.

He dragged his feet to his desk, only stopping to check his phone. The ‘missed call’ notification lingered, except now the number was ‘3’.

Patton felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t run forever.

As he sat down, he noticed a small cup behind one stack of paper. He grabbed it. The smell of coffee swarmed his head. He smiled, noticing a small sticky note on its side.

“Keep up the great work. Your friend, Logan.”

~*~

“Okay everyone! Grab your brushes!”

Patton blinked. Somehow, his memory of the manor floors failed him, and he ended up in the recreation room. He felt eyes stare up at him, Roman’s included.

“Ah, Patton! Man of the hour! What brings you here?”

Patton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, got lost! If you could believe it, heh.”

“ ‘Lost’ is just a way of saying ‘found, but with a few extra steps’!” Roman motioned to an empty seat. “How about you join us for a bit?”

Patton opened his mouth to protest, though felt cornered by all the expectant stares. He even spotted Jonah, who smiled and waved at him. Patton sighed. He had been wound up for days now; perhaps Roman’s theatrics was all he needed.

He finally nodded, going over to sit in front of the vacant canvas. Roman grinned at him with a warmth Patton let himself melt into.

“Alright! Let’s begin.” Roman cleared his throat. “I want you to pull on the colours of your heartstrings. Forget form, structure– even an outline. Your emotions know no bounds, after all! Just remember, your hand is not controlling the brush — it’s your heart.”

Patton felt the words wash over him. Roman, of course, was right; he didn’t even notice his hand moving as he painted. Though somehow, it didn’t feel as peaceful as Roman described it to be. Instead, it felt like something was being pulled out of Patton, as though a claw was scooping something out of his chest and spilling it onto the canvas.

Suddenly, his ringtone cut through Roman’s monologue. Patton jumped, dropping his brush. A line of paint dragged across the canvas as it fell. All eyes were on him again.

“Um, excuse me! I– I’m just going to take this.” Patton pressed answer without looking at who called as he stumbled out of the room.

“Hello?”

“I see you’ve finally answered.”

Patton’s heart dropped.

—

Roman was halfway through the end of his monologue when, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Patton re-enter the room, head ducked.

“Ah! I’m glad you’re back!”

Patton nodded, but in the stilted way Roman quickly recognized. His eyes looked Patton up and down, barely listening to Patton’s stammering apology for interrupting. His hair was disheveled, which meant he ran his hand through it far too many times. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight–

He was crying.

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for leaving so soon!” Patton’s voice brought Roman back to reality. “Keep painting you guys! I gotta Van-Gogh!”

A shaky laugh followed Patton out. Roman frowned, but he nodded for everyone to continue. He passed by Patton’s canvas and snuck a peek.

It was rather abstract, with overlapping strokes forming a gradient. Roman’s gaze followed the gradient downwards. The canvas was filled with dull blues that turned into darkening greys. Towards the bottom was a thin line of black trailed all the way to Patton’s paintbrush, abandoned on the floor.

~*~

The sun sets on a long railroad, it goes past the horizon, it outstretches a hand like it’s beckoning, it’s begging you to run, run faster, everything is going faster and they just told you to go so you have to–

“Pat?”

Patton shot up in his seat with a yelp. He blinked quickly, vision focusing on the silhouette of–

“Virgil!” A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!”

Virgil replied simultaneously, “No, I’m sorry, you just weren’t answering and I got worried, but I didn’t realize you were sleeping–”

“Sleeping?” Patton looked down at the time. 5 PM.

“Oh sh– shoot, I’m gonna be late.”

“Late for?”

“Animal shelter,” Patton mumbled, stumbling out of his chair and grabbing his bag. “I forgot that I said I’d come in today– gosh how could I forget–”

“Hey.” Virgil rested a hand on Patton’s shoulder before Patton could go spiralling out the door. “Deep breath. I’ll drive you, it’ll be okay.”

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but remembered the time. He sighed and motioned wordlessly at the door. Virgil nodded, leading the two of them out towards the parking lot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if it’s a bad time, I was just hoping to run some website revisions by you,” Virgil said as he started the car and backed out of the lot. Patton shakily smiled.

“No! It’s not a bad time at all, you can tell me about your ideas as you drive!”

“There’s not much. I was just thinking of ways to maybe make it more approachable. There’s not even really an ‘about us’ page or anything about you–”

“Why would there need to be anything about me?”

Virgil looked at him, almost confused. “It’s an amazing organization, Pat. Your name should be up there, especially as the founder…?”

“Oh! R-Right.” Patton let out a sharp laugh. “I guess I never thought about it before.”

“I could put something together tonight, I was just thinking it'd be cool to hear you talk about it.” Virgil turned at an intersection. The sign of the animal shelter soon came into view.

“I guess that’d be a good idea!” Patton shrugged. “But there’s, um, not really anything interesting to know.”

Virgil frowned, falling quiet as he parked the car. When they stopped moving, Virgil turned to face him.

“Say, would it be okay if I joined you?” Virgil shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “I, um, have a bit of a free night, and I was thinking that maybe I could just ask you stuff for the website now so I don’t have to bother you later…?”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds perfect! Liz will probably be okay with it. I think it’s bath night for the dogs, and we can always use an extra hand with that!”

Virgil chuckled, following Patton out the car and into the animal shelter.

Patton gathered the energy he had left to greet Liz and everyone else, already cooing over the various animals he and Virgil passed by. They reached the back and, with only a bit of struggle (Patton would never admit to these cute dogs being a struggle), took each dog a bath. All the while, Virgil asked Patton questions about the Rainbow Manor and his life in general, which Patton did his best to answer.

“I ended up founding the Rainbow Manor a year after I graduated.” Patton wiped his brow as they finished drying the last dog. “I had been living on Roman’s couch for so long after being kicked out and I just wanted to turn it around; not only for myself, but for other people.”

Virgil’s stare softened. “I– I’m sorry. N-Not about how you founded the place but, like...why you felt like you needed to. That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah.” Patton forced a shrug. “It is what it is. Sometimes, you have to get lost to be found, right?”

“Right.” Virgil looked up at Patton. “Do...do you still keep in touch with them? Your parents, I mean.”

Patton felt his heart squeeze.

“It’s been so long,” he finally said. “I doubt they’d want to talk to me.”

—

Virgil offered to drive Patton back, but Patton insisted on taking a cab home. Virgil reluctantly conceded, but promised to email Patton when he drafted the additions to the website. Patton just nodded and watched Virgil drive off.

When he was sure that Virgil was completely gone, he shakily pulled out his phone and called a cab.

“Hi! I– I just need to go to The Rainbow Manor,” he said to the driver as he climbed into the car. He found himself laughing. “Long work day. It is what it is.”

~*~

Days passed, and Patton’s workload somehow doubled: new admissions, new initiatives, new everything.

(And his mother kept calling. And calling. And calling.)

To say it was a lot was an understatement.

Patton found himself going back and forth along the manor halls, forcing a smile at those he passed. He closed his eyes, turning a corner before he knocked into someone.

“Crap! I– I’m so sorry.” Patton quickly scrambled to gather the papers that had fallen onto the floor.

“Oh, don’t apologize, I always thought that important documentation would make for good confetti– ah, hello, Patton.”

Patton looked up. Janus appeared above him, outstretching their hand to help Patton up. Patton took it, scooping the papers up as he went.

“Janus! Hi! Well, if you’re looking for me...here I am!” He laughed, though it sounded scratchier than expected. “Everything okay?”

“More than, thank you. I just wanted to follow up about my schedule for the new admissions? You mentioned yesterday that I should come to you but I couldn’t find you…”

Patton winced. His chest tightened.

“F– I forgot, goodness how am I always–”

“It’s quite alright, Patton, I can always–”

“I–It’s not okay!”

In the corner of his eye, Jonah passed by. He felt their wide eyes on him. The air grew thinner.

“It’s– gah, it’s never fucking–”

“Oookay. We’re not okay and that’s...okay.”

Janus suddenly took Patton’s arm and led him to their office. They swiftly kicked the door shut with their foot as they let Patton settle on the couch.

“Breathe for me,” Janus said slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Patton. They took Patton’s hand and motioned for him to follow their lead. “In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8…”

They repeated this a few more times until Patton let go of his head and his breathing evened out.

“I– I’m so sorry, Janus. I don’t know what–”

“It’s fine, Patton. I’m glad I could help.” A pause. Janus leaned back in their chair. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

Janus raised a brow.

“Okay, everything’s not fine. But...but it will be fine. I have to be fine.” His mind drifted to Jonah. Patton buried his face in his hands.

“I can’t be like this,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I...I just can’t. Not now, this– this can’t be happening now.”

“Unfortunately, these things tend to find us — not the other way around.” Janus squeezed Patton’s hand in a sudden moment of softness. “I...I know what this is, Patton. And I don’t have to tell you what to do because I know you know. You help so many people like you, but remember: when the plane is falling, you have to put on your oxygen mask before you help someone else.”

Patton locked eyes with Janus for a split second, opening his mouth to respond when he felt his phone ringing. Reflexively, he pulled it out in front of his lap. The air disappeared once more.

‘Incoming call: Mother’

Patton quickly pressed ‘decline’. He then looked up at Janus, whose eyes darted upwards as well.

Shit.

“I– I have to go.”

“Wait, Patton–”

“Thank you for everything, Janus,” Patton mumbled, and before Janus could reply, Patton sped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

~*~

“I just don’t get it,” Roman muttered, leg bouncing under the table in the break room. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“You haven’t?” Janus circled the table like a hawk.

“What makes you think I have?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that he has about a thousand jobs! Or perhaps it’s that he’s been staying overnight every night to work as if he owns the place — oh wait! He does! But I have no idea why that might be stressful at all!”

Roman glowered at them, but said nothing.

“I can imagine that his workload presumably doubled this past month,” Logan, sitting across from Roman beside Virgil, adjusted his glasses. “Between the new admissions, growth in our volunteer admissions…”

“Okay, so he has a lot on his plate!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve seen him stressed out about these sorts of things. This is different.”

“So what else could be on his mind?” Virgil piped up.

Janus suddenly stopped in their tracks.

“His mother.”

Roman’s heart dropped. “His– his what?”

“She called him while Patton was in my office,” Janus murmured. “He left straight after.”

Virgil frowned. “Why would he...”

Roman felt as if he had burst into flames. The pieces clicked together in his head.

“The– the fucking nerve of that woman, I can’t believe she’s still–”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Logan cut in.

Before Roman could respond, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He immediately pulled out his phone. His breathing hitched.

‘Help.’

“It’s Patton,” he blurted out, stumbling out his chair and making his way out of the room. Everyone exchanged looks, but quickly followed suit.

Roman weaved his ways through the halls until he neared Patton’s office. Loud sobs were muffled behind the door. Roman felt his heart breaking already as he opened it.

And there was Patton, on the floor, crying, and surrounded by shards of broken porcelain. Roman recognized it as a vase he had painted for him years ago. He winced seeing small drops of blood surrounding the pieces. His eyes quickly scanned the room as Logan immediately tended to Patton.

“What happened, Patton?” Logan murmured as Patton curled up closer to him, sobs still wracking his body.

“I– I’m so sorry.” Each word sounded like it was forced out of his lungs and into the air. “I– I tried to clean up, I’m sorry–”

“Shh, Patton. It’s okay.” Janus knelt down beside him, carefully lifting Patton’s wrist to examine his hand. A long cut ran across his palm. Janus looked up at Roman and Virgil.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my office, as well as a broom and dustpan. Can one of you grab it?”

Virgil nodded wordlessly, exiting the room. Roman noticed Patton’s phone beside Patton on the ground, and reached over to pick it up.

“What did she say, Pat,” Roman asked, fear edging the quiet of his voice. The words seemed to stab at Patton and let out more sobs.

“She– she found out about everything,” Patton wheezed through tears. “The– the Rainbow Manor, where I am– she wants to take it all– she can’t take it all–”

“Patton, I need you to follow my breathing, okay?” Janus interrupted, motioning at their chest with their hand as they inhaled and exhaled. “Can you see my hand? I want you to try and follow along, okay?

Patton numbly nodded, trying to breathe through hiccups and sobs. Janus repeated the exercise with Patton for at least fifteen minutes, with Virgil returning halfway and Logan moving to sit in front of Patton to start tending to the cut. Virgil carefully swept around Roman, Janus, Logan, and Patton on the floor.

“Whatever she told you, it isn’t true,” Roman said after Patton’s breath had evened out. “She can’t touch you here, not with us around.”

“I– I know,” Patton sniffled. Logan finished bandaging Patton’s hand and offered him a tissue from the box on his desk. “She said so many awful things, but– but the scariest part is that she didn’t stop at just saying things.”

“What do you mean?” Logan murmured.

“She...she threatened to shut the Rainbow Manor down.”

“What?!” Roman shot up from the floor. “But– but she can’t–”

“You know my mom, Roman,” Patton whimpered. “She has connections all over the city. If she wanted to, she would find a way.”

“So why hasn’t she?” Janus asked quietly. A beat of silence. Patton brought his knees closer to his chest and buried his face between them.

“She– she wants a percentage of the donations,” Patton finally admitted.

“What the fuck,” Virgil growled, stopping in his tracks.

“I know! It’s– it’s impossible, I–” Another sob. Logan and Janus moved closer to him, with Janus putting their arm around his shoulder.

“What did you tell her?” Janus pressed on.

“I– I told her no! Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but– but what else can I do?” Patton looked at his bandaged hand and grimaced. “And of course she got mad, and I freaked out, and I knocked over the vase– god, Roman, I’m sorry about the vase–”

“The vase is replaceable,” is all Roman said. “You aren’t.”

Patton just nodded, looking up at the four of them in his office with teary eyes.

“What am I going to do?”

Everyone exchanged looks. Roman lowered himself back to the floor beside Patton and wrapped him in a warm hug.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Roman said firmly.

“Roman…”

“All your life, you’ve taken care of people like they were your family, Patton. Please, let your family take care of you.”

Patton sniffled, looking around him. Virgil, Logan, and Janus nodded with small smiles, moving closer to him and joining the embrace.

And Patton just nodded, dissolving into tears; except this time, Roman could feel the relief from them. He felt Patton melt in his touch and smiled to himself, a similar relief washing over him as well.

(And for a moment, just a brief moment, Patton was home.)

~*~

One week later…

“Keep your eyes closed…”

“Roman, I don’t know how many more walls I can keep bumping into!”

“Just a little longer, I promise!”

Patton giggled, letting himself be led by Roman through more halls. Then, Roman stopped him.

“Okay, you can open your eyes in 3...2–”

“I’m opening them now, I’m too excited!” Patton squealed, and then opened his eyes. Suddenly, a burst of colour flooded his vision.

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices exclaimed.

Patton broke into a wide smile, blinking to focus on the sight in front of him. He was standing in the recreation room, with a big banner hanging from the back wall reading, “Happy Birthday, Rainbow Manor!”. Beneath it was a table with a cake, which was surrounded by Janus, Virgil, and Logan, alongside a bunch of other teens Patton recognized. Even Jonah was there, wearing a small party hat with a confetti popper in his hands.

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you remembered!”

“Of course, padré!” Roman grabbed Patton’s arm and led him around the table to stand in front of the cake. “Always normal for a family to celebrate the man who built their home!”

“Oh, Roman!” Patton leaned against his shoulder, sniffling. “It’s perfect.”

He then looked at Virgil, Logan, and Janus. “I can’t believe you guys set this all up, it must’ve taken forever!”

“Actually, it just took a day,” Logan hummed.

“And the cake doesn’t explode,” Virgil said with a small finger salute. “I checked.”

“Additionally, we understand that presents are customary at a party,” Logan continued. “So while our present is not materialistic, we do hope it suffices.”

“Oh?”

“Sir Nerds-A-Lot is trying to say that we’re pitching in to give you a few days off!” Roman declared. “We handled a few responsibilities over the weekend while you were home, and split your workload for the week ahead! Consider this the fabulous gift of time!”

“Oh you guys! You didn’t have to!”

“But we did, and we did so gladly,” Logan said with a nod.

“Also–” Janus leaned over to quietly whisper in Patton’s ear– “I took care of your mother.”

Patton frowned. “You...what? Is– is she…”

“She’s fine, but she won’t be bothering you for a long time.” Janus winked. “Let’s just say I know people too.”

Patton exhaled a breath he felt he was holding onto forever. He nodded graciously at Janus as Roman handed him a cake-cutter.

“Alright! Before you take the first slice, you gotta make a wish!” Roman motioned at the lit candles on the cake. Patton stepped forward, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then blew them out.

Everyone cheered as Patton was surrounded by hugs and laughter. He felt Janus, Logan, Roman, and Virgil crowd around him as they started to help hand out cake to all the teens.

And in the back of his mind, his wish echoed in his head.

‘I hope to always be able to share this home with my family.’

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #DLAMP #platonic DLAMP #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #hurt/comfort #angst #thomas sanders fic #everything gets worse before it gets better :p

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shepard-ram · 3 years

Text

Ambassadors Work [Hc!Reader & Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo]

(P!Hurt/comfort, Request: I love your work so much, whenever i get in the feelz i like to read ur work to make me happy 😊. Can write smth about dsmp and hc meet or reader coming from hc and making dsmp meet her home(hc)?)

(I am beyond happy you can find comfort in my work!! This was an interesting one to write. Also this takes place sometime before dream got bonked into jail, and before the Hcbbs showed up. Sidenote: I know you used she/her pronouns in your request, but I try to keep things gender neutral by default- avoiding pronouns altogether when possible. Sorry if this doesn't fit what you wanted but the only thoughts I had were from my anons)

(Yes, this has become my fix-it comfort from someone's death.)

[Part 2 -New Day Brings New faces]

[End Busting -side episode]

----------

You had always tried to stay informed on the world outside of the server you called home. Sometimes it felt like you spent more time off world than in your base, but you took pride in your knowledge of "foreign affairs" as you joked.

Naturally when you heard rumors of the events happening on a server called The Dream Smp it yelled for your attention. With some of the most famous fighters going off to join, only for a few to come back and immediately leave again after Mcc. The last person to leave was a certain ram hybrid, and he was apparently called back to give an endorsement in an election. To say you were curious when he didn't return would be an understatement.

Eventually you got the chance to visit on behalf of the Hermits. While they were worried to see you go by yourself, you had proved that you could handle yourself just fine. When the time came to cross the threshold, a few of the hermits including your admin escorted you up to the green portal. You were the only one whitelisted, they couldn't go through even if they tried. With one last goodbye, a promise to return by the next day, and a deep breath you stepped into the unfamiliar world.

The servers namesake admin was there to greet you. His image wasn't new to you, many outside the Smp knew his trademark mask. You agreed to a tour of the smp with him, after all you didn't come here with a notebook to not learn about the server.

-----

Which ring of hell was this?

That and other similar thoughts rose up again and again over the course of your little history lesson. At first you tired to rationalize it with the fact you used to Hermitcraft. It was just culture shock. When you live in a server filled with mega bases, industrial farms, a thriving economy, wings and boxes taken from the end you're going to think this is bad, to say the least.

Yet the more you were shown, the more you were told, the more people you talked to, you knew this wasn't just you being spoiled. It was practically all war, violence and mistrust. As much as the events shook you, it was the people who put pin after pin through your heart.

Then you had your braking point; three boys, not even adults yet having been put through some of the worst the server had to offer. An enderman hybrid clutching a book so tightly, a teenage president with a scar sealing his right eye shut, and a broken revolutionary with a ghost for a brother.

You knew you had to do something, if you could help anyone you were going to help them. When you saw them you instantly started forming a plan. When night fell you found them and offered this plan. They were hesitant to say the least, but you kept talking. Stories and promises of your home, and a deal that they could return anytime they want and eventually they were sneaking back to spawn with you.

They stayed much closer to each other than to you, but that wasn't a concern for you right now. The only thought going through your mind was getting back to the portal. With one last sprint to the gateway you didn't look back as you followed the boys, ready to guide them to a much better place.

-----

It was almost sunrise by the time you returned. Hermitcrafts portal was connected to the nether portal under town hall. As the boys got their first look at your home bathed in orange sunlight, wide eyed awe covered their faces. You smiled as gestured to the island,

"Welcome to Hermitcraft!"

"Were exactly are we?" Tubbo asked while staring at the diamond trees.

"Our shopping district," You informed with pride. "Almost anything you can think of is sold here. No one steals, and no one messes with shops beyond maybe changing a sign."

Tommy was about to ask "Really?" before Ranboo exclaimed apon stepping back to look behind you.

"What is that?!" He was looking at town hall, the diamond throne clearly in view.

"The diamond throne." You watch as the other two looked back, sharing his wonder. "To build a shop you have to spend some diamonds on the plot of land, you add you payment here."

"What do you do with all of them?"

"Well they are technically Scars, he's our mayor. Great guy- he decides how to use them for the district. There's usually not much to spend them on though so they kinda just sit there." You knew you'd have alot more explaining to do.

From there you took them on a tour of the district, as well as pointing out the bases you could see from the shore. You had also gave a briefing on the Turf war as they asked about the warehouse and mushroom castle of an Headquarters. By the end of it the four of you sat back on the steps of town hall.

As the sun started to fully rise you realized just how little sleep you all had gotten, haven woke them up in the night to leave the Smp. As nice as it would be to have them awake when you told the Hermits what you had seen, you didn't do anything as they fell asleep on the less than comfortable stairs.

You tried to fight your own rest. Wanting to be able to explain everything, but as one of the boys leaned against you (You weren't sure who at this point) you couldn't help but close your eyes. They were finally safe, and for now that was more than enough.

#mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #Shepard ram writes #c: tommy #c: tubbo #c: ranboo

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Women’s Equality Day

Author: @shesasurvivor

Prompt: Women’s Equality Day prompt: Katniss always celebrates by hunting, but this year she gets involved by her example of protecting someone, she is nominated to represent the district on this one day they get to make a public statement to the mayor and capital ambassador. It’s pre-written and awful and the entourage yaps during her live broadcast presentation. Katniss gets mad and says what she really thinks. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: General

Author’s Note: Thanks to @triplebigday for proof-reading! ______________

I was supposed to be done with public appearances until the Victory Tour. That’s what they told me the day the press packed up and headed back to the Capitol, anyway. At last, things would go back to normal, and we could pretend like the Hunger Games never even existed. Except for that part where we moved from our old home in the Seam to the fancy new house in Victors Village, where our only neighbors are Haymitch and Peeta.

Still, even with the new house, and my only neighbors serving as constant reminders of the Games, it was easy enough to settle into a new version of my old routine. Since I no longer have to go to school, I spend every day in the woods, trying to forget what happened in the arena. Though even that is proving more impossible than I thought it would be. But focusing on a shoot is the only way I’m able to clear my head.

When the phone call comes through, it’s all I can do not to scream.

“You’ve been chosen to represent your district for Women’s Equality Day!” Effie’s tone is so proud; I can practically feel her smile through the phone.

“For what?” I ask, trying to process what she’s saying.

“Oh Katniss, don’t be that way. This is a major honor!” Effie scolds.

I bite back what I really want to say to that, but her comment still does its job of prompting my memory. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recall hearing about the day. It’s some propaganda day that’s supposed to make women feel as though they’re appreciated for all that they do, but really it’s more for the women in the Capitol than any of us in the districts. No one cares what we do out here.

Which makes the whole thing all the more irritating. I’ll be standing on a platform in the town center, much like I did during the Reaping, and reading a prepared statement. I’m no good at these things, and everybody knows it. But given the nature of the day, there’s no chance I can convince anyone to let Peeta do it instead. Given all the trouble I’ve caused, it’s probably for the best that I play along. So without further argument, I tell Effie I’ll do it. Not that I had much choice in the matter.

“Do try to seem more excited, Dear,” Effie says before saying goodbye.

Right. How could I not be excited?

On the day of the celebration, I’m standing in the same spot I did before being whisked away to the Capitol. Only this time, I stand in full hair and makeup and an elaborate dress that makes me sweat in the August sun. Cinna and my prep team arrived early this morning to work their magic, which was probably the only highlight of this whole event. Now I wait for my cue as camera crews set up around me.

Shortly before the program is due to start, the mayor shows up, along with a man I’ve never seen before. But there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s from the Capitol, his skin dyed an unnatural shade of pink, and his outfit decked out in bright colors you would never see on anyone here in 12.

“Katniss,” Mr. Undersee greets me with a slight nod. “This is Septimus Perthshire,” he says, motioning to the man beside him.

“Good morning, Katniss!” Septimus Perthshire thunders maybe a little too enthusiastically. He forces a large, fake smile. “I’m the Capitol Ambassador for Women Equality. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

I fight the overwhelming urge to frown and draw away from him and instead force myself to give as fake of a smile as he’s giving me. I hope it’s convincing. “Hello,” I say, taking his hand as he gives a weak handshake.

“It’s so wonderful to meet the Girl on Fire in person! You know, you’ve caused quite a storm in the Capitol,” he laughs. “People love you there!”

That’s news, but not surprising. I saw hints of it in the final day of interviews before they let us come home. Besides, the Capitol is usually obsessed with whichever victor won the year’s Games until the following year comes around and a new victor is crowned.

Septimus Perthshire hands me a sheet of paper with a paragraph typed on it. “This is the statement that’s been prepared for you. All you have to do is read from it and smile,” he says.

I want to say something, but before I get a chance to do so or even read the statement that’s been written for me, we’re being told it’s time to take our places, and the program begins.

The national anthem plays, and then Septimus Perthshire walks to a podium that’s been set up on the stage and gives some speech about the important role women play in Panem. Then I’m being called up to the podium myself, and it’s time to start the address.

“Good afternoon,” I begin quietly, trying not to overthink about the crowd of people watching me all across the nation. This is being broadcast across the entire country. No one looks impressed. Not that I blame them.

I take a deep breath and continue reading the speech exactly as it was given to me.

The problem is, I’m not the only one speaking.

Several of the reporters who even bothered showing up in our district are talking over me. From where I stand, I can make out two of them. But I’m pretty sure there are more. With the sun in my eyes, I’m just not able to make them out.

I’m thrown off for a second by this. For being such a huge honor, you’d think they could give me a chance to actually deliver my speech. I wonder what Peeta would do, what Haymitch would tell me in this situation. Somehow, I know they’d both tell me to continue, as though nothing is happening.

I try. I honestly make an attempt. But the chatter is loud enough that it’s distracting me. Suddenly I’m back in the training center in the Capitol, angry with the Game Makers all over again for ignoring me when my life was on the line.

This isn’t the tipping point for me, though. I’ve learned to keep it together better since that moment weeks ago. No, it’s the comment about our quaint ways here in District 12 that finally pushes me over the edge.

“I’m trying to speak!” I snap, glaring down at the reporters.

It takes a moment for what I’ve done to ripple through the small crowd. Some catch my comment right away and are stunned into silence. Others stop talking as they realize the growing hush and tension making its way across the crowd.

At last, I’ve gotten what I asked for: no one is speaking, and all eyes are on me. Suddenly, I’m terrified as what I’ve done has started to sink in. This was no better than shooting that arrow at the Game Makers back in the Capitol. Worse, maybe. This is being broadcast for all to see.

I’m frozen to the spot, not sure what to do. All I can think about is the possibility of punishment being brought down, not on me, but my mother and sister. What have I done?

Septimus Perthshire swoops in to save the day. “I’m so sorry, Miss Everdeen!” he announces brightly as he joins me a the podium. In a way, he reminds me of Effie. “Everyone, please allow Miss Everdeen silence while she gives the speech she’s crafted so carefully for us.”

He puts the mic down and places a hand on the small of my back. Reflectively, I pull away. “Go on,” he says quietly so that only I can hear. He walks back to his seat, and I’m left alone again, front and center.

There’s nothing left to do now but continue my speech. It takes another second to work up the nerve, but I finally continue where I left off. I’m able to finish without another interruption. But all the while, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve only created more trouble than I had when I pulled out those berries.

“The Capitol’s furious about you showing them up.” Haymitch’s words run through my mind as I’m finishing up the speech.

Happy Women’s Equality Day indeed.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #summer #summer 2021 #shesasurvivor #submission #prompt

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

Danger Days - Chapter nineteen: "If you're gone (maybe it's time to come home)"

Word count: 16,9K

Summary: Joey is not ready to start touring, but being away from Matthew sounds like a good plan to get over him. But... Matthew has other plans, and he is determined to be forgiven. Gerard is not letting his illusions go either, but he has to realize he is wasting his time.

Warnings: Cursing, there are some arguments, a little angst, and some fluff.

A/N: I'm soft.

Masterlist

::: March 30th, 2011. Los Angeles :::

Frank sighed and looked around. It was early morning, and there was chaos around him. It was video shooting day, and his family was with him at the small indoor venue where MCR was recording the “Planetary Go” music video. Five hundred kids were outside, waiting in line to get there and be part of the show. Meanwhile, inside the arena, his wife and kids hung out with Joey, Ray, and Mikey in the dressing room. They were still waiting for Gerard, who was late, as pretty much always.

- "I brought some things you might need through these next months"- Jamia said to Joey as Frank walked closer- Mostly books and a few maternity shirts I loved.

- "Thank you! I’m gonna need all your help, ‘cos I have no fucking idea what I’m doing."

- "You are gonna be just fine! You have mom material!"- Jamia pointed out as the young woman held Lily in her arms, smiling- "You are glowing"- Joey grinned- "Now tell me everything about, have you seen him? Have you talked to him? Did you tell him?"

The drummer widened her eyes and held her breath for a second. Mikey looked at her and kissed her temple.

- "I’ve seen him, I told him, he is thrilled, he has been..."- she made a pause and tried to find the right words to describe how the last ten days had been for her- "Incredibly caring and supportive. I hate him"- Mrs. Iero frowned.

- "He is making it hard for you to hate him, right?"

- "Awfully! I swear I have to do some exhausting mental work to keep myself from forgiving him each time I see him! It’s awful!"

- "If you want to forgive him…"- Jamia started, but Joey shook her head.

- "No! This is not about forgiving him because I won’t! once a cheater, always a cheater!"

- "Yeah… that’s true."

- "And I don’t trust him!"

- "I know…"

- "And..."

- "It’s ok, Joey. Don’t worry"- Jamia smiled and changed the subject- "Did you tell your parents yet?"

- "No, we are gonna be in Seattle in four days, so I’ll tell them in person."

- "Are they going to the show?"

- "Yeah! They are thrilled! And they want to meet the band, which I know is gonna be weird. I’m so glad you are coming along for this leg."

- "I was dying to come with you, and now you have two babies to get used to"- Joey chuckled, but her happiness was clouded when Gerard walked into the room with Lynz.

Ever since her talk with Mikey, Joey had successfully managed to stay away from Gerard. And the best part: no one had asked if there was something wrong, ‘cos though neither Frank nor Ray knew the details of the story, they both knew there was something definitely wrong in the way Gerard looked at the drummer, and she was clearly awkward around him.

Gerard was in hell, and he knew he deserved it. He had crossed the line, and the distance between him and Joey was the proof. Gerard was afraid even to talk to her, and he felt the wall his brother had created around her. Mikey wasn’t mad at him anymore. He was just worried about him and also a little disappointed. Gerard had always made sure to give him a positive example- even in his darkest times- and suddenly, that whole mess fell upon them.

- "Hey guys!"- Lynz said with a happy face and arms wide open as she walked into the room and started hugging everybody, including Joey, who felt like a whore the second she saw her. She had promised her she was never going to do anything with her husband, and she had failed.

- "Hi Lynz! How are you?"- Joey tried to keep a straight face and smiled.

- "Congratulations! Gerard told me about your baby!"

- "Thank you so much!"- the drummer was making the biggest effort to look happy and natural- "Wanna see the ultrasound?"

Gerard looked at the scene, and his stomach tightened. Joey seemed to be so happy. The drummer gave Frank his daughter and took the ultrasound from her backpack.

- "Hey! I wanna see it too!"- Ray said, moving closer.

- "That little bean is my baby!"- Joey pointed and chuckled- Can you believe that tiny thing is gonna be a person?!

- "Shit!"- Ray sort of mumbled- "It’s so small!"

- "Ok, kids! outfits ready?"- Brian walked into the room and looked at them- "Neither of you is ready, come on! Move! We are late!"

Matthew finished packing and smiled. He wasn’t carrying much, but it was enough to follow Joey for the next eighteen concerts she had with the band, starting march 21st and until April 23rd. His plan was simple: standing in the first row of every show and cheering for the drummer. He wanted to show her how much he loved her, and he was willing to postpone his whole life for her. He had gotten in trouble in his job for doing that, and he didn’t care. He wanted to be with Joey, and he wanted her to know how much he loved her, and if that meant being fired from Criminal Minds, so be it.

He put the eighteen tickets for the shows he had already gotten in an envelope and smiled pleased.

- "This has to work"- he said out loud- "I mean… it has to, ‘cos I don’t know what to do next…"- he grabbed his phone and looked at the hour.

- “Good luck with the video today”- he wrote and sent.

The latest days had been weird for him and Joey. She would accept to see him when it came to things related to the baby, but of course, she would never let him get too close. The nap they had shared had been the last time he had held her in his arms. The rest of the time, she had been distant, and though he had done his best to stay calm and positive, sometimes it scared him to think maybe he was really going to die trying to get her back.

But “weird” didn’t mean bad, though. And Matthew had made the best of the time he had shared with her. He would bring her treats she liked and would call every morning to know how she felt. She always picked up. That was good; it meant she didn’t hate talking to him.

He also took her to see a nutritionist, to help them make a meal plan, considering Joey wasn’t the healthiest person when it came to meals. They also had a conversation with a personal trainer to help her identify the exercises and movements she could do to train and stay fit those first months. Besides, Matthew kept getting thoughtful presents to make her pregnancy more comfortable, and he brought one every day as an excuse to see her, even for a minute. He got her the pregnancy pillow and customized it as one of his stuffed monsters. He got her natural spa products for her bath to help her relax. He even got a tiny drum for the baby. Joey hated him because she couldn’t stay mad at him if he was being so adorable. He bought her so much food she was sure she was getting fat for eating too much and not because of her pregnancy.

- “Thank you”- his phone dinged, and he quickly read the text, smiling.

- “Wanna come for dinner tonight?”- he wrote and held his breath. It was a bold move, but he needed to play all his cards.

- “Better not, I’ve got an early flight.”- she replied. Joey held the phone in her hands tight, locked in the bathroom. She really didn’t have to change for the video, she just had to put on an MCR t-shirt, and she wanted to fix her hair. Joey wasn’t really going to be in many shots anyway, she just was a support player in the back. She couldn’t take the eyes from the phone, though she knew she had to. She was waiting for Matthew’s answer.

- “Can I stop later to say goodbye?”- and a smile lodged on his lips as he wrote those words. Joey had no idea he was going to be on tour. Joey bit her inner lip as she considered the options. She wanted to see him but didn’t want to give him hope, but he was the father of her kid, but… he cheated.

- “I can bring some dinner, in case you get home tired and you don’t want to cook.”

- “Mother fucker!!”- the girl coursed and sighed- “See you at seven.”

- "Yes!!"- Matthew jumped from his bed and danced around his room on his own. He just had to be calmed and try not to fuck it up. He could do that, right?

Lynz kept a good eye during the whole day, trying to see if Joey would look at Gerard, but she didn’t. They didn’t really talk at all. She knew Joey had told her they weren’t close, which made sense with the scene in front of her. It was like Gerard didn’t exist for the drummer.

- “Isn’t that weird too?”- Mrs. Way thought. She could notice Gerard was concentrated entirely on the whole “making the video” process. He kept checking with the director and making sure everything was ok. Joey talked with Mikey and laughed a lot with Ray. Her husband and the young woman never interacted except during the show. Gerard wouldn’t stop going back to the drum and looking at her every time they had to perform. Just like Lynz had seen in the Valencia show. Joey didn’t seem to pay that much attention. She would be playing, their eyes would crush, they would nod, that was it.

- “Ok, if it doesn’t seem to be anything going on, why can’t I shake these thoughts from my head”- the bassist asked herself as she kept staring at her husband performing.

During the break, Joey walked away from the stage and the noise and locked herself in the bathroom again. She checked her cell phone and read.

- “Do you think we could ever get to be friends?”- and she held her breathing, nearly in shock. The text was from Gerard. When the fuck did he text her? He had been there the whole time. She looked around, but she was alone in the bathroom. She reread it, frowning. Why was he texting her? They had managed to spend weeks talking the minimal, and she was completely in favor of keep doing the same for the rest… of her life, basically. And so she didn’t reply. It was clearly easier for her to stay away from Gerard than from Matthew for obvious reasons.

- "Hey!"- Lynz walked into the bathroom and smiled. Joey kept looking at her reflection in the mirror, fixing her makeup- "How are you feeling?"

- "Like I could puke everything I’ve ever eaten, and at the very same time, so fucking hungry"- the drummer answered with a smile- "How have you been? I haven’t seen you since London."

- "Good, busy, thank God. That’s the only way I can stand being apart from Gerard for so long."

- "It was an eternal tour!"- Joey added- "It felt like a lifetime! Are you coming along these following dates?"

- "Yeah! I’ll be there on April 5th, I have to finish a project I’m doing with a friend, and I’ll take a plane to Canada."

- "Awesome!"- Joey was doing her best to be as normal as possible. Besides, she honestly liked Lynz- "You and Jamia! Finally, I’m not gonna be the only woman around! You have no idea how exciting this is for me. I’ve been around guys my whole life, but I really need a break after these last months. I’m actually hoping to have a girl"- Joey guided her hand to her stomach and chuckled.

- "What did Matthew say, by the way?"- the drummer sighed and closed her eyes- "Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Gerard told me what happened between you two."

- "No, don’t worry"- Joey smiled and sighed again- "Matthew is happy with the baby news."

- "That’s good."

- "He is thrilled, actually. He cried when I told him, cried during the ultrasound, cried when he realized the baby due is close to Halloween."- Joey couldn’t help but smile, remembering his face, tears filling his eyes as she told him she was pregnant. She had never imagined he would be so happy.

- "And how is everything between you two?"

- “Did that little shithead tell his wife everything going on in my life or what?!”- the drummer didn’t answer. She felt pretty awkward knowing Lynz was aware of the whole story.

- "Sorry… I didn’t mean to intrude."

- "It’s ok… I…"- Joey scratched the back of her neck, honestly nervous about explaining her mind- I’m sorry, I’m just not really used to talk about things with people.

- "No, please, I was out of place, I just… Gerard was in shock when he told me, and he said you were pretty affected"- Joey nodded and looked down.

- "Yeah, I was a mess, but I’m better now…"- the two of them stayed in silence for a few seconds, that felt like hours- "I should go back"- Joey pointed to the door, and Lynz nodded.

- "I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable"

- "Don’t worry, I’ve got problems communicating with people… not just in this matter"- Joey tried to smile, though she knew she still looked pretty awkward- "It’s a long story."

- "Hey, no need to explain, really"- Lynz opened her arms and hugged her.

Joey didn’t get a thing. Why was she being so nice? Did Lynz want to be her friend? Was she being honest or just trying to be friendly under the circumstances? Did she want to get closer to her to know if she was crushed on Gerard? There were too many questions around Joey’s head, and she didn’t have the time or the energy to try to find an answer to any of them. She just hugged Lynz back and cut her a friendly smile.

The whole recording process took the entire morning and part of the afternoon. By the time they were done- and gave the kids in the audience a short show of five songs - the band and their families were ready to go home.

- "Bug, we are gonna go grab dinner together. Wanna come?"- Mikey wrapped an arm around Joey and kissed her temple as they all grabbed their things in the dressing room.

- "I’m too tired. I wanna go home."

- "Want me to go with you? Ask for some take-out? Maybe from the Vietnamese place you wanted to try, watch a movie… you know, rest before the tour that’s coming, what do you say?"- Joey smiled but declined.

- "I have plans…"- Mikey raised an eyebrow and nodded.

- "You are gonna see Gubler"- and by the tone in his voice, she knew he wasn’t happy with the news.

- "He is gonna drop by to say goodbye."

- "Sure… are you sure you are ok with him?"

- "What do you mean?"

- "You have been hanging out with him a lot."

- "No, I haven’t!"

- "Name one day this week you haven’t seen him"- Mikey furrowed his brows and crossed his arms on his chest, staring at the drummer.

- "Today?"- she answered, thinking.

- "See?"

- "He keeps bringing presents for the baby. What am I going to say? Stop being such a good dad?"

The whole band was overhearing the conversation. They were all pretty nosey, actually. And the whole Matthew/Joey drama was their favorite subject at the moment.

- "He ain’t trying to be a good dad! He is trying to win you over! Are you gonna let him break your heart again?"

That escalated quickly. Joey stood in front of his friend, not knowing what to say. Lucky for her, Lynz was the one to talk next.

- "Are you jealous, Mikey?"- though her words weren’t really the best to be spoken at the moment. The bassist looked at his sister in law almost in shock, nearly insulted.

- "Not jealous, worried. I am concerned about her ‘cos I don’t want her to get hurt again, is that a fucking sin or what?"

- "No, it’s not! I’m just asking ‘cos you sound like a jealous boyfriend worried his girlfriend is gonna cheat or whatever."

Joey hated Lynz’s comment, every single word in it, ‘cos it was meant to start a fight. Had she said it with those intentions?

- “No, she didn’t… did she? Is she trying to know if Mikey and I are into anything? No, stop being paranoid!”

- "I’m not jealous, Lynz"- Mikey’s words were cold as he responded with a serious face- "I’m just worried and taking care of her. That’s what friends do."

- "Sorry! There’s no need to get all serious."

- "Ok, dinner?"- Ray clapped and tried to lighten the mood- "Let’s go before Frank gets all cranky."

They all nodded and started walking. Gerard made sure to stay a little behind as his wife talked with Jamia and moved closer to Joey.

- "You didn’t answer my text"- he whispered, and the drummer froze in shock, even a little scared. Why was he talking to her? They had managed to spend weeks without saying a word directly to each other. Why did he decide to talk to her the only day they had been around his wife?

- "Sorry, I’ve been busy"- Joey mumbled and started walking quickly to get away from him.

- "And would we ever be friends?"- Gerard asked, following her and talking under breath, making sure no one except her could hear him.

- "Sure, if you stop saying nonsenses, we can be friends."

- "Nonsenses? You mean telling you that I love you?"- the young woman widened her eyes and turned to him immediately.

- "Don’t say that! Ever again!"

- "But I do. I am in love with you, Sugar."

- "And that’s why we can’t be friends"- Joey sentenced and walked to her car, never looking back. She said goodbye to the rest of the band, kissed Cherry and Lily a few times each, and drove home.

- “What the fuck Gerard?!”- she yelled inside her head- “What the fuck is his problem?! His wife was right here? And he keeps telling me that he loves me? is he stupid? Has the stress affected his brain functions? Did he start drinking again?”.

There was no explanation for his behavior, and it freaked Joey out, ‘cos a new leg of the tour was starting the day after, and she didn’t want to face it that way. She didn’t want to travel with Lynz knowing her husband was trying to get into her pants again.

Again, that was the worst part. Joey felt like a whore knowing what had happened with Gerard. She didn’t want to even think about it, but the image kept coming to her mind. His lips on her, kissing her jawline, her neck, her breast… If she hadn’t thought he was Matthew, would she have let him go on? If she wasn’t in love with her ex, would she had sex with Gerard, even knowing he was married?

The answer could actually scare her, ‘cos it was against everything she had ever believed in. But she thought it was possible. The only thing that kept her from having sex with Gerard was that she was in love with Matthew.

If she had sex with Gerard, would she stop loving Matthew? The girl shook her head, frowning, disgusted by her own thoughts. That was never going to be a good idea.

Gerard was in silence, staring at the food in front of him. He didn’t want to eat. He didn’t want to be there. He could hear his friends talking, his wife laughing, but all his mind could register was the fact Joey was now in her apartment with Gubler. With the guy he hated the most in the whole world. With the guy Gerard wanted to be. The guy he was jealous of. The one she loved instead of him. Just the thought of what could happen between them made him sick in the stomach.

Was she going to forgive him? Was she going to have sex with him? Was she going to marry him after all? Matthew was going to be with her that night. He was going to make her laugh, he was going to lean over her slowly and whisper sweet words in her ear. He was gonna make her blush, he was going to get her wet and cream her undies.

The singer shook his head and tried to think of anything else. But he couldn’t.

- "Are you ok?"- his wife asked, frowning- "You haven’t had a bite."

- "I’m not hungry"- Way whispered and tried his best to cut her a nice natural, all innocent smile.

- "Sure?"- Lynz touched his forehead in case he had a temperature, but he was ok- "Do you want to go home and rest?"- the singer nodded right away

- "Yes, I think I need to lay down for a while."

- "Ok, I’ll tell the guys."

Gerard was full of it. But going home and locking himself in his studio sounded like a nice idea. At least there, no one could see him freaking out over the idea of Joey being with someone else but him.

Matthew counted to ten as he stood outside his car and took three deep breaths to calm himself down. He had done the same, like a mantra, each time he walked into Joey’s apartment those days. He had to control himself from running over, from making a mistake. He had to make sure he wasn’t going to mess it up with her, Paget had told him over and over again: he only had one chance to make things right, and he couldn’t fuck it up.

His friend was the only one who knew Matthew was gonna be a dad, and she was as thrilled as he was, mostly ‘cos she knew how badly Gubler wanted to have a baby. And the fact he loved Joey more than anything made it even more perfect. Well, it would be perfect if he hadn’t cheated, but both of them hoped to fix that any time now. As soon as possible, as a matter of fact.

- "Hey"- Matthew smiled as his ex-girlfriend opened the door. She was already in her pajamas, make-up swept off her face, a messy bun on her hair, and some chocolate around her lips. Matthew had never seen her as beautiful as in that moment.

- "Shouldn’t you be quitting sugar already? We agreed no more lava cakes from this week on."

- "I’m eating the leftovers from the fridge, ‘cos it’s all gonna be rotten when I come back, and the whole place is gonna stink"- Joey answered, cleaning the corner of her mouth, turning back to the kitchen.

- "You know chocolate won’t get bad… wait, where did you get chocolate from?"- Joey turned to him and grinned.

- "Frankie got me some"- Gubler nodded and left the take-out boxes on the counter.

- "Are you hungry?"

- "Actually… I don’t know… are you?"

- "A little. But I can wait a while if you want…"- he smiled at her and stared in silence. The young woman turned away to the fridge again and opened it.

- "Anything else that’s gonna spoil while you are away?"- he asked.

- "Not much… peanut butter will live, I guess."

- "Yeah."

- "And ketchup."

- "Yeah… but ketchup was making you sick a few days ago."

- "But who knows next week..."- the conversation between them was so natural, neither of them remembered how bad things were between them for a long while.

They talked about the fridge, the new self-watering system Joey had gotten for her plants, and how excited she was to see her parents again. And that was when Matthew pushed things a little too far.

- "Are you going to tell them about the baby?"

- "I don’t know"- Joey simply answered and walked away from him. She had been walking away from him most of the time he had spent in her apartment, and he kept following her like a lost puppy through the whole place.

- "Why not?"

- "‘Cos they are gonna ask too many things. ‘Cos I want to know if everything is ok with the baby first, wait until he is twelve weeks. And mostly, ‘cos I’m gonna have to tell them you are a cheater mother fucker and that we are not getting married, and I haven’t seen them in forever… I don’t wanna ruin the trip."

- "Maybe you don’t have to tell them we broke up,"- Joey raised an eyebrow and looked at him, standing on the frame of the bathroom door, staring at her putting all her beauty products (the few she had) in a “go-to” bag.

- "Sure, Matthew"- her answer was snarky, and she refused to turn to him.

- "I mean… we don’t have to break up"

- "Again? You wanna do this again?"- her voice was annoyed, making it clear she was tired of talking about their relationship.

- "We’ve danced around the subject all week, and we haven’t properly talked about it."

- "We are over because your cock was in your ex’s mouth the night of your birthday a few weeks ago. That’s all there is to know about that subject. That’s why we are in this fucking shitty situation. And no, Matthew Gray Gubler, I am not going to forgive you! So can you just drop it?!"

A heavy silence hung in the room. Joey lost it, and she ended up yelling. She was tired, she was sad, she was stressed. And most of it, she was anxious and slightly depressed over the whole deal.

- "I’m tired of this shit! We are gonna be parents together. I swear I am doing my best to get along with you and have a healthy relationship. Still, the fact is, I am doing my best to stop fucking loving you ‘cos I am not going to get back together with you! Ever!"

Her words were full of anger, and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming at him.

Matthew looked at Joey in silence. He didn’t know what to say at that. He had a lot of ideas in his head, but all of them were probably just going to get her even more upset. And that was the last thing he wanted to do that minute. And so, he just nodded and turned around and left the room. Joey sat on the edge of the bathtub and bit her lips.

- "I got this for our baby today"- he murmured a few minutes later when he walked back to the bathroom.

- "What is it?"- Joey mumbled and looked at the iPod Matthew gave her- "What? You know the baby won’t use one of these in probably another ten years, right?"

- "It’s not the iPod, it’s what’s in it"- the drummer nodded and wondered what was in it- "I just…"

Matthew cleared his throat. Words came painfully slow from his lips as he spoke.

- "I recorded a few stories and tales and things for the baby, so they can listen to my voice while you are away. That way, they won’t forget me"- Joey’s heart ached in love at those words.

- “This is one smooth loving bastard”- she thought and took a deep breath- "Thank you, that’s very thoughtful"- he shook his head and took a few steps back from her, ‘cos he knew all his body wanted was to lean over her and kiss her.

- "It’s nothing"- he sighed and made a pause- "I’m just worried if we are not gonna be together again, my baby might forget about me."

Those words broke Joey’s already broken heart. The sadness that Matthew’s face reflected showed her how bad he was feeling and reminded her that this was also a troubled time for him. Even when he was the one that had brought those problems to their relationship.

- "I promise you, that’s never gonna happen. You are always going to be our baby’s dad, and you are always going to be part of their life, no matter what"- he nodded and looked down, biting the inner part of his cheeks.

- "I think I better go"- Joey didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to go, but her words had been so hard, they had left him speechless. Uneasy. Depressed.

- "You…"- the young woman stood up and took a deep breath, not know what to say- "You can take your part of dinner if you want."

That was not what she wanted to say. She wanted to say, “I’m sorry I just said all that in the nastiest way possible. I fucking love you, stay with me and hold me ‘cos I am scared and sad and alone”. But that was not what came out from her lips.

Matthew nodded and walked to the kitchen. He sighed and closed his eyes as he grabbed his box of Chinese noodles. That evening hadn’t come out as he was hoping. It had actually been the complete opposite. He had fucked it up. Making Joey upset only caused more pain to the two of them. He knew she would say things in the most painful way possible, not because she wanted to, but because that’s how she reacted when hurt. Hurting back. Hurting deeper.

Joey stood in the middle of the hall, watching Matthew grab all his things and turn to her.

- "Take care"- he whispered, and she nodded slowly.

- "You too."

- "I’ll call you to know about the baby bean"- she nodded again.

- "Of course. I’ll see you when I come back, and we’ll have another check-up"- he looked at her as she whispered those words. Each one of them hurt as they left her lips, ‘cos they were goodbye words, and she didn’t want to say goodbye.

Matthew just stood there, staring at her, not knowing how to move. He didn’t have the strength to walk away from her at that moment. Still, the words she had just practically yelled at him were a warning he was pushing her, and by pushing, he was never going to make things better. He had such a sad look in his eyes, Joey took a step closer to him. He kept his eyes on hers, almost holding his breath.

- "And… thank you for being here with us"- she held her hand on her tiny belly as she spoke- "I know it’s hard and all, I just… want you to know… I appreciate it."

- "They are my baby too"- he simply answered with a short and sad smile on his lips- "I would do anything for the two of you, any day."

Joey bit her lips and took another step closer. He stood still, not knowing what to do. Joey walked slowly to him and stood right in front of him.

- "Sorry about what I said"- she managed to whisper.

- "No, Joey, please don’t apologize, you said what you said ‘cos it’s the truth, and I understand how mad you are… please don’t say you are sorry for something I brought to myself, to the two of us"- Matthew made a pause and sighed, his eyes stuck into Joey’s- "To the three of us, actually"- she nodded slowly.

- "I didn’t want you to leave with an argument if we were not going to see each other until another month"- Joey managed to murmur but couldn’t hold her eyes in Matthew’s for another second, and so she looked down.

- "I didn’t want to start a fight either…"

The two of them stayed in silence. The distance between them was so small Matthew could hold her tight if he only took one step ahead. But he controlled himself. It was one of the most challenging efforts he had ever made, and he moved his hand to her chin, lifting her face sweetly.

- "Take care, ok?"- his eyes traveled slowly from her lips to her eyes, and he noticed how her cheeks blushed sweetly.

- "Ok"- she whispered, nodding.

- "I’ll call you"- she didn’t say a thing and just nodded again. Matthew moved carefully over her and landed his lips on her forehead. It was the sweetest touch Joey had ever recalled feeling from him. So delicate and tender, and at the same time with such intense love. It was impossible for her not to close her eyes and feel her knees trembling. He stared at her in silence and smiled shyly before whispering “Goodnight” and walking out of her house.

Joey stared at the door and restrained herself from the deep desire to run after him and wrap her arms around his neck, to kiss him deeply. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. Instead, she walked to her couch and laid down, wrapping her arms around her legs, feeling how warm tears fell from her eyes. How many times can a heartbreak after being broken? ‘Cos every time Matthew said goodbye, her heart ached, just like the day they broke up. And her body ached, feeling the empty space he left by her side.

- "I love you so fucking much"- she mumbled, sobbing. Tears kept falling like a waterfall until she fell asleep.

::: March 31st, 2011. Oakland :::

Mikey looked at Joey as they walked into the hotel and checked in. They had hardly shared a word that day, ever since they left California. She sat with Jamia and helped with the babies the whole trip, and her plan was to continue to do the same until it was time to play the show.

- "Are you mad?"- he asked out of the blunt as he stood next to her in the middle of the lobby, both waiting for their room keys.

- "No, why?"

- "You are not talking to me."

- "You haven’t talked to me either"- she answered with a shrug- "Are you mad at me?"- Joey furrowed her brows as she spoke, thinking maybe that was the point, and she never actually noticed it.

- "No"

- "Then?"

- "Are you ok?"

- "I’m tired and puked breakfast on the plane, you?"

- "I’m tired and drank three coffees on the plane ‘cos I couldn’t sleep"- Joey nodded at her friend’s words- "Why does it feel weird?"- Mikey pointed out and crossed his arms on his chest

- "I don’t know... - the drummer answered and looked at his shoes- "I love those boots."

- "I’m not gonna give them to you. They are not your number."

- "Shut up"- Joey cut him a short smile, and he did the same- "I hated Lynz’s comment last night"- Joey confessed and kicked Mikey’s boot friendly

- "Me too… Gerard said I was too rude to her."

- "You were, but she kind of deserved it"- Mikey chuckled at Joey’s confession- "Really, I just hated so much how she was insinuating you were jealous of whatever, considering she has no idea we are best friends!

- "I know! I thought the same"

- "That’s ‘cos we are best friends"- Joey added and smiled, giggling. Mikey looked at her and wrapped his arms around her slowly.

- "Did you have a good night after you saw that asshole?"

- "Yeah, it was ok"- Joey lied, hiding her face in his chest- "He brought dinner and left."

- "Good"- they rocked slowly, still hugged. Mikey kissed the top of her head and whispered- "I’m not jealous."

- "I know"

- "I’m just scared"

- "Why?"- Joey moved apart from him but never got an answer. Jeffrey showed up and gave them their keys.

- "Get ready. We’ve got an interview in an hour here in the conference room"- the bassist frowned, nodding.

- "Good news for me, I get to get some more sleep"- Joey added and stuck out her tongue to Mikey.

- "I hate you"

- "I know."

Gerard looked at his brother talking with Joey. He saw how they hugged. How he kissed the top of her head. How she smiled at him sweetly and hid her face on his chest. They looked like a fucking couple, and he hated everything about it.

- "Stop it"- Ray said and stood next to him- "I thought you were gonna be over your fucking obsession by now"- he pointed out with an eased tone of voice like he was just talking about the weather.

- "You are gonna fuck everything up if you keep looking at her like that"

- "What do you know?"

- "I know she won’t talk to you at all, and I think there has to be a reason I don’t know"- Gerard stayed still, pretending those hadn’t hurt him. Or scared him. He didn’t even look at Ray as he spoke.

- "And I know you like her, so stay away from her before you do something that ruins everything."

- "I’m not gonna ruin anything."

- "Your wife is gonna be here soon."

- "I love my wife."

- "I know… just try not to stare at Joey drooling, like she is the object of your undeniable desire and love when Lynz is around."

Gerard turned to his friend and tried to say something back, but nothing came out.

- "And for the love of God, don’t fuck it up!"- Ray tapped on his back and walked away.

Gerard Way was busted. He was fucked. And it was the first day of the tour.

Matthew laid on his bed and sighed. He was in Oakland, staying at a hotel two blocks from Joey’s. He had made sure not to book his room in the same place as her, to keep a safe distance in case she got too mad- which was always an option with her, especially under those circumstances. Those were the worst circumstances they had ever faced, so Matthew was being extra precautious. Even more after what had happened the night before. He was still angry with himself for pushing her too much. He had to be patient.

- “Let’s hope she won’t get angry with me for doing this.”- he thought and stared at the ceiling. He could only stay still for a minute or so. He quickly moved to his bag, grabbed a book and his phone.

- "Hey"- Joey’s voice at the other side of the line made him smile right away

- "Hello, how was your trip?"

- "It was ok"- Joey cleared her throat and looked at her feet as she walked around her room. She felt weird and awkward talking to Matthew after what had happened the night before- "How are you?"

- "I’m ok…"

- "How are you feeling from the bruises from the car crash?"

- "Like nothing ever happened"

- "Good…"- there was a silence on the line. Matthew could hear Joey’s breathing as she scratched the back of his neck and said the first thing that came to his mind.

- "So at what time is the concert tonight?"

- "At eight"

- "Good… and… are you having lunch soon?"

- "I don’t know. I was thinking about napping now and maybe grab a late bite before going to the arena."

- "Remember the nutritionist said you shouldn’t skip meals"- the drummer sighed, knowing he was right.

- "But I’m so sleepy, I’m gonna fall asleep on the table eating."

- "You couldn’t sleep last night? “God knows I couldn’t.”

- “I did. “No, I didn’t. I stayed up crying and thinking about how much I love you, damn it!”

- "Then why are you so tired?"

- "Maybe because I’m turning food into a human being"- Matthew chuckled at those words, and Joey smiled, listening to his reaction.

- "That seems to be a good reason. I’m sorry I questioned you"- the girl kept the grin on her face for a second

- "That’s ok. I should really go grab something to eat and then nap. You are right about that."

- "Talk to you later?"- he asked as casually as possible- "Maybe after the show, to know how you are feeling?"

- "Yeah, sure. Talk to you later, bye."

Matthew hung up and sighed. Just a few more hours and his plan to get his girl back would start. His stomach tightened as he imagined what Joey was gonna say when she saw him. Was she going to be mad? Was she going to be happy? Was the band going to hit him? There were too many questions for him to answer, so he did the only thing he could do: lay on his bed and grab the book he was carrying.

Jamia, the babies, and Joey had lunch together. The drummer loved having her around ‘cos she wasn’t alone back in the hotel all the time like she was in Europe, and that meant less time to overthink everything. She loved hanging out with Jamia ‘cos she was too nice and understanding with her. It felt like they could be friends. Jamia considered Joey her friend already, meanwhile the young woman still had trouble opening up with people.

Though she had to be honest with herself. The latest months had changed a lot of the things that made her a loner. It was all Matthew and My Chem. Except for Gerard. But for Joey, Gerard wasn’t really in the picture anymore. He was the guy she needed and wanted to avoid at any cost. Even if that cost meant to leave the band.

- "So… have you thought of any name already?"- Jamia and Joey were at the drummer’s room. The babies were napping, and the two women were laid on the bed, eating Oreos.

- "Not really… I just…"

- "It’s not real yet?"

- "It’s so not real yet"- Joey whispered and chuckled- "I keep looking at the ultrasound, and I can’t believe there’s a baby in my tummy… I bet I ate a sea monkey at some point, and that’s what’s been growing inside me"- Jamia snorted as she tried to keep it down and nearly laughed out loud.

- "Wait until the sea monkey starts kicking. That’s the weirdest thing of all"

- "You are not making it magical, J"- Joey made a pause and chuckled- "You are so gonna be J from now on"- and Jamia smiled.

- "Sounds nice coming from you."

- "Good, ‘cos I think I’ve got no more brain cells to think of anything else."

- "Oh honey! You are just starting!"- Mrs. Iero tapped on her friend’s leg as the two of them laid back next to the babies- "You have months of exciting emotions, like pregnancy arousal, cravings, hormonal changes, hair coming in weird places, and my personal favorite, pregnancy brain"- Joey frowned disgustedly.

- "I’m afraid to ask about the arousal, the hair, and the brain shit"

- "Whenever you are ready, I am here."

- "You are my Jamia San Kenobi"- Joey chuckled and sighed- "My pregnancy Jedi master"- and Jamia smiled.

- "I’m glad I can help"- and after a few minutes, they were both asleep as well.

The doors to the theater opened at five, and Matthew ran inside to make sure to grab a spot on the first row. He nearly tackled a few teenagers to get there. But he did and sighed, relieved at his success.

- "Hey! Where are you? did you make it?"- Paget called and didn’t even say hello to her friend. She just started asking questions right away, making him chuckle.

- "Hey! Yeah, I’m in Oakland, already at the theater. It’s a very cool venue, small, intimate… I’m almost sure Joey is gonna get to see me."

- "Are you in the first row?"

- "Of course, I am"

- "Good"- Paget smiled and nodded- "We miss you around here."

- "I’ll be there when everything is ok."

- "We know."

- "Is anyone mad at me?"- and Paget chuckled.

- "No, actually everybody thinks you are the sweetest and most romantic guy on earth following your girlfriend like that."

- "I’m following her to get her to be my girlfriend again, actually."

- "You get the point"- and Matthew chuckled- "Ok, Gubler, gotta go, please call me and tell me how this went."

- "Of course!"

- "Hey! Wait! Did you make a banner?"

- "Yes! I remembered your advice and got a banner."

- "What does it say?"

- “The distance is nothing when one has a motive”- the actor confessed proudly

- "Pride and Prejudice?"- Paget asked, puzzled.

- "Yes, her favorite, I’m making her banners with quotes from her favorite books"- and his friend sighed.

- "Stop it! I am gonna end up falling for you!"- and the actor chuckled- "If she doesn’t take you back, I am single!"

- "Shut up!"- Paget laughed, knowing Matthew had blushed, though he knew she was joking.

- "Call me later."

- "Sure thing!"

Joey kept jumping on her spot. She was backstage, feeling really psyched to play that day. She didn’t really know why. Maybe it was the two hours nap she had taken that afternoon with Cherry and Lily. Perhaps the fun size Snicker Mikey had just given her, breaking her meal plan on the first day on the road.

- "You look extra happy today"- and it all stopped the second she heard Gerard’s voice next to her.

- "Hey, yeah… I think it’s a sugar rush"- she answered and looked around, feeling safer knowing everybody was around her, including Jamia and the babies.

- "How are you feeling?"

- "Good"- Joey smiled and nodded- "You?"

- "Good… but I’m not pregnant"- the girl smiled and looked away from him, trying to keep that conversation as casual and distant as possible.

- "You look gorgeous, by the way"- Gerard whispered and even blushed as he moved a little closer to her- "I guess it’s true pregnant women glow and grow in beauty."

Joey took a step back and gulped as she felt her cheeks burning red as Gerard just continued talking.

- "‘Cos each time I see you, you catch my breath."

- "Please don’t..."

- "I’m just being nice"- Gerard smiled, pretending to look as innocent as possible.

- "You and I both know that’s not what you are doing."

- "Hey Iceland"- Frankie appeared all of a sudden and wrapped an arm around the young girl, kissing her temple and giving Gerard a glare that forced the singer to take a few steps back.

- "What are you guys talking about?"- and Joey sighed, relieved to feel him next to her, like a little guardian angel, though Frank Iero had nothing angelic.

- "I was just telling Joey she looks gorgeous today and that pregnant women are beautiful"- Gerard answered like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Joey wanted to run away or hide under a rock. Frank just tightened his arm around her and nodded.

- "Yes, she does… wanna help with my warm-up?"

That was the most random question Iero could come up with that second, but it didn’t matter, ‘cos Joey smiled and quickly said yes, escaping from Gerard’s presence. But not from his eyes that followed her through the room. He wasn’t worried anyone could see how much he loved her, ‘cos he didn’t want to hide it anymore. Not until Lynz was there, at least. But that was a problem he would face when the right time came, in a week or so.

- "What can I help you with, Jersey?"- Joey asked as Frank grabbed a few kettlebells and started making bicep curls.

- "Absolutely nothing, you just looked like you wanted to get the fuck away from him, and I decided to rescue you"- the young woman wanted to deny it all, but at that point, she was just so glad Frank had taken her away from Gerard, she just nodded and smiled.

- "You are such a smart guy"

- "You are gonna make me blush…"

- "Can I use one?"- she casually asked, pointing out the kettlebell.

- "Definitely not! You’re not lifting any weight until we talk with your doctor"- Joey rolled her eyes and shook her eyes.

- "We already did that. I am ok to work out… I just can’t… run and… carry heavyweights"- Frank raised an eyebrow, and she smiled guilty- "Sorry, I just love lifting weights."

- "Have your baby first, then we care gonna train like we are fucking CrossFit athletes"- the soon-to-be mother chuckled and reached out her hand to her friend.

- "Jersey, we’ve got a date."

The crowd was running anxious, and so was Matthew. He had stayed put on his spot in the first row, right in front of the drumset like his life depended on it, no matter how much kids would try to push him away.

- “This is gonna work, this is gonna work, this is gonna work,”- he kept repeating in his head as he felt the weight of two thousand people pushing him against the security fence.

The crowd started yelling louder and jumping as the band appeared on stage. And along with them came his girl.

His breath was caught in his throat as he looked at her walking to the drum, a huge smile lodged on her lips. She looked so happy, happy like she had always looked when playing. There was nothing Joey loved more than her job. She had fought so much to get there, Matthew could barely get a glimpse of how good she felt playing as a professional drummer.

Looking at her sitting behind the drum in a My Chemical Romance concert, with that sweet and happy grin on her face, made him fall a thousand times harder in love with her. He felt proud of her and jealous of all the people who had been able to see her glowing in joy in the latest months when he had been away from her.

- “You fucked it up! Now fix it!”

Gubler never noticed the countdown of the music had started, and all the kids were yelling every word in “Look Alive Sunshine” until Gerard’s voice took him from his thoughts. Joey started playing, and the singer yelled.

- Oakland!! Make some noise!!- and the show started.

The whole crowd jumped, and Matthew jumped along with them, his eyes locked in Joey, who was lost in her drum. He smiled, watching how her lips now moved along with the song, murmuring the lyrics. Of course, she had toured with them long enough to learn all the lyrics of each song. She would probably deny it but sing them in the shower when she knew no one was listening.

The first one who spotted Matthew was Mikey. He frowned as he looked at Gubler standing in the first row, not getting what the fuck was going on. But Matthew never cared -he hadn’t actually considered- the fact the band could spot him in the audience. There was no one else on that stage but Joey for him, and that’s why she was the only person he had eyes for.

As soon as “Na Na Na” ended, Mikey walked to Frank. The intro of “Mama” started, so the bassist talked as fast as possible.

- "Dude, Gubler is here"- Iero looked at him frowning- "The first row, staring at Joey"- Frank looked over and saw him. He hadn’t seen him ever since New Year, and if there was one thing the Jersey boy was dying to do was to break Matthew’s face so hard no one would ever recognize him again.

- "Mother fucker"- he said and didn’t take his eyes from the actor- "I’m gonna kill him!"

But at the moment, he didn’t have the chance, ‘cos he had to play a show. But for a second, he and Mikey shared a look and turned to Joey. She was playing, eyes shut, smiling. They knew she still had no idea what was going on. And that was ok for them.

It wasn’t long until Gerard found the actor. It wasn’t hard to see him ‘cos he was the tallest guy in the front row and the only one who wasn’t looking at him. Matthew was the guy who stood still, hypnotized with each movement of the drummer, drooling over her like a kid staring at his first love. Gerard felt how his whole body shook in anger. Even his hands shook with a deep desire to kill him. Right there, in front of everybody. But he couldn’t. He had to keep on singing, keep on playing. Keep on pretending everything was ok, not just for the show and the kids, but for Joey too. He kept wishing she hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe she could never see him.

But the singer needed to let Gubler know he was fucked. And so he stood right in front of him, at the very edge of the stage, and managed it to catch his eyes. Both of them looking at each other in such deep hate, it was obvious the pair knew they despised each other. Gerard didn’t think about it twice. He had the higher ground. It would be a shame not to take advantage. And so, he spit on Matthew, and an evil smirked lodged on him as he saw him cleaning his face in anger. That was a little piece of sweet, sweet revenge. But it still wasn’t enough to make the actor pay for everything he had put Joey through.

Ray widened his eyes when he spotted Matthew, just the second Gerard spitted on him. He saw the whole moment in action and knew it was gonna be hell after the show. What was Gubler doing there? Trying to get Joey back. Ray knew that moment was gonna come, eventually. Toro knew how much Matthew loved her. It was crystal clear for everybody to see.

Ray was the only one who could keep a cold head to analyze the whole picture, and that’s why he always tried to remind his friends Joey and Matthew weren’t a subject they could decide on. It wasn’t something related to them at all, though they were friends with her. They were their own thing, a thing they could merely watch but never ever control. It was clear neither of his friends had listened, and so Toro sighed. He was going to have to stop a big fight after that concert.

- "The next song"- Gerard said after “House of Wolves” was over. It was Joey’s favorite song, and they played it as often as possible- "It’s about being a kid, about you being a kid, about me being a kid, about us being a kid, about you having a kid"- Joey raised her eyes from the drums and looked straight into Gerard’s eyes. That’s when she heard him.

- "Yami!!"- it was Matthew’s voice, but it couldn’t be. Joey frowned and looked around.

- "Yami!!"- he yelled and raised the banner. Frank, Mikey, and Gerard looked at him in the most honest and pure hate anyone could have ever seen from them. Ray tried to concentrate on Joey. She was the one he cared about at that second. And when he saw the puzzled expression on her face as she looked at him, asking what was going on, Ray couldn’t control himself and pointed at the actor.

Joey’s heart stopped. It was Matthew, it was really him, standing there, on the first row of the concert, staring at her with the biggest smile anyone had ever had around her in her life. And he was holding a banner that read, “The distance is nothing when one has a motive.” She couldn’t move. She didn’t know what to do. He just smiled at her and mouthed, “I love you.”

- "Bug!! Bug, are you ok?"- Mikey waved in front of the drum and looked worried at the girl. She just nodded at him and then at Frankie, who stood next to the bassist.

- "Yeah, I’m ok"- she smiled and started counting. It was time to play “Kids from yesterday.”

Everybody loved that song, and she wasn’t going to fuck it up, not even if her eyes and mind were stuck looking at Matthew in front of her, as he kept smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as she played.

Gerard stared at the scene, and it felt he was gonna make a tantrum in the middle of the stage. Joey was staring at Matthew, and her whole face had lit up, even if she didn’t want to. And just like a little child, Gerard made sure to stand right between the two of them to stop them from looking at each other. And like if they could all build a fortress, Frank and Mikey stood around the drumset, protecting Joey, trying to make sure Matthew knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere near her, over their dead bodies.

Matthew didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to look at her. He just wanted her to know she was the most important person in his life and that he was willing to drop anything and everything just to be near her.

The song was ending. Joey kept playing drums, her eyes glued to Matthew’s, until Mikey stared at her, counting the beat at the song’s end. She nodded at her friend and kept playing, both of them, the two of them, to finish the song together, just like they had done for over five months now, in perfect timing. Joey loved that part, and he knew it, ‘cos it was the only part of the show they had a little solo. Mikey was happy Matthew didn’t take that moment from them. At least he felt Joey was still in the zone, playing and being present at the show and not lost in thoughts.

Joey was lost in thoughts, she was making her best to play a good show. But Matthew’s appearance had moved the ground underneath her feet. It had been the biggest and warmest surprised she had had in a long time.

“I’m not ok” set the mood for the rest of the concert. No one on that stage was ok. But Gerard was the one affected the most. He would sing, giving his back to the audience and looking at Joey as often as possible. He knew that was going to drive Matthew insane, but it also helped him stay focused.

His eyes locked in Joey’s face tried to read her. She looked… happier. And that hurt, ‘cos though Gerard knew she didn’t love him back, it didn’t help to know he was still in her heart. It was so obvious she was in love with him even a blind man would see it. Even Joey would try to keep her eyes shut or look away, she would always end up looking at Matthew, and Gerard could swear a smile lodged on her lips each time she saw the actor. It made him want to punch a wall, or Gubler’s face, whatever came first.

- "Give me all your fucking money!!"- Gerard yelled and ran to the drum set as Joey started playing “Vampire Money” with a huge smile- "Are you ready, Ray!!"

- "Yeah!"

- "How about you, Sugar?"

- "Yeah!!"

- "How about you, Frank?"

- "Fuck you, Gubler!"- he answered, and Joey turned to him in shock, though Iero looked at her with the cutest and most adorable smile on earth.

- "How about you, Mikey?"- Gee yelled

- "Fucking ready!"

- "I think I’m alright."

Gerard would always call Joey “Bug” when he addressed her in that part of the show. It was the only moment of the day he could call her by a nickname, and “Bug” was her official band nickname. But that day, Way wanted to make a difference. He wanted to make it sound a little more personal than it was in real life. “Sugar” fit perfectly, and in his mind, Gerard would always call her Sugar.

Somehow, being so angry brought a different energy to the band while playing. They were mad into it. Gerard sang as his life depended on it, while Mikey wouldn’t stop moving, and looking in the most threatening way possible at Gubler, every once in a while. Frank would jump and yell and shout, playing his guitar with the energy of a caffeinated hyper ten years old. Matthew never even saw them. He couldn’t care less. All there was for him on that stage was Joey behind the drum, looking at him with the corner of her eye every couple of minutes.

She didn’t know what to think or what to feel. She was in shock. What was Matthew doing there? What was he going to do next? What was he planning? Joey needed to run away from that stage and hide under a gigantic pillow ‘cos she had no idea how to face what was going on, though, at the same time, she was dying to run to Matthew and hug him. She just felt so good to know he had followed her to see her one more time. She felt special like he always made her feel.

Gerard started singing Cancer, and Joey turned to one side of the stage. Jamia looked at her, literally waving. She could perfectly read her lips, “What the fuck?” and the drummer could only shrug.

- "Hey"- Mikey appeared in front of the drummer and cut him a quick, shy smile- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah, just surprised."

- "You knew?"

- "I had no idea"- he nodded and looked around

- "Just a few more songs, then we can go hide and eat a pretty good dinner"- Joey smiled at him and watched him walk back to his side of the stage.

But Joey didn’t want to hide in her room and eat dinner with Mikey. Though she refused to admit it, all she wanted to do was to stand in front of Matthew and feel his eyes fondling her skin as he talked to her, just like he was doing at that moment, from a distance. She could feel his eyes running up and down her skin, though she didn’t look at him.

Jamia nearly jumped on Joey as soon as the girl reached backstage. The babies were miraculously sound asleep. No one got how, considering a huge rock concert had been happening that whole time a few meters away from them.

- "Oh my god, what the fuck??!"- Jamia made her best to whisper/scream to not wake the babies, but to make Joey wide open her eyes and frown.

- "I swear I have no idea!!"

- "He is adorable!!"

- "He is a cheater Jamia"- Frank interrupted his wife and took off his shirt, frowning- "And you shouldn’t be that excited. He is just trying to win her over."

- "He is being romantic, Frank"- Jamia corrected him and looked at Joey again- "What are you gonna do?"

- "I don’t know"

- "Call him!!"

Jamia was the closest to a best friend from high school Joey had ever had. Sure, back in the days, she had Tabatha, but her friend had her share of social life, and Joey was always shut down to any kind of social interaction. Now Jamia was talking about boys and telling her to call one. If that was high school talk, Joey had no idea what it was.

But before she could actually make a decision, her phone rang in her backpack, and J widened her eyes in excitement.

- "I swear to God, Jamia! you are just acting like this ‘cos you think he is hot!"- Frank turned around to see his wife, clearly annoyed, as Joey grabbed her phone and held it tight in her hands, not knowing what to do.

- "I’m just being honest with my friend. He is being cute and asking for a second chance. Coming unannounced to a concert with a cute banner is the sweetest thing I’ve seen a guy doing for love!"- Jamia stopped talking, and Joey’s cell stopped ringing. She looked at it feeling disappointed, until a second later, it started ringing again.

- "For Christ’s sake! Answer!"- Jamia sounded annoyed, and Joey did as told, not really thinking about her own actions. She just… deep down wanted to do it.

- "Hello?"

- "Hey..."- Matthew stood still in the middle of the arena, waiting for the kids to leave the place, he was anxious to know what Joey thought of what he had done, and though he had thought about waiting for a while to call her, he just couldn’t control himself.

- "What was that?"- Joey asked, blushing, as she locked herself in the bathroom.

- "That was me dying to see you, traveling to Oakland to be with you, even from a distance"

- "Why did you do that?"- Joey managed to ask, feeling she was nearly mumbling each word.

- "‘Cos I love you, ‘cos I miss you…"

Neither of them was able to say another word. Matthew was nervous and didn’t know how Joey managed the whole situation, though her voice sounded peaceful and calm. That should be a good sign.

- "You shouldn’t have…"- she whispered and felt her heart was about burst inside her chest

- "Do you wanna come out for a minute and talk?"- she wanted to, so badly, but it scared her to think what would happen if Frank, or even Gerard, got near Gubler.

- "Where are you?"

- "Still here"

- "You haven’t moved?"

- "Nop"- Matthew smiled and looked around- "I don’t know if they are planning to kick me out though"

- "Give me five minutes, I’ll change into something dry, and I’ll be right there."

Gerard Way was in hell. Literally burning alive as he watched Joey walking out of the bathroom in a fresh shirt and combed hair made a ponytail. She had even fixed her makeup.

- “God! She even got pretty for him!! What the fuck?! How can she be so eager to forgive him?!”- his eyes could burn holes in the wall as he did his best to look away from Joey.

- "Hey Bug, what are you gonna do?"- Mikey asked her as he stood next to her and held her hands. Gerard hated that too. He had managed to decode each movement from his brother around Joey like he was her couple. Lynz’s words had really fucked up with his brain. And if he was jealous of Mikey before, now it was turning into something worse.

- "I’m gonna go talk to him"

- "Are you sure that’s a good idea?"- Mikey looked worried, but Joey smiled at him and held his hand tighter.

- "Yeah, don’t worry, I’m gonna be ok."

- "If he does anything to you, I’m gonna break his fucking face"- Frank added from the other side of the room, already in a clean shirt and now holding one of the babies in his arms. For someone who sounded so threatening, he surely didn’t look the part.

- "It’s ok kids, let Joey take her own decisions, ok?"- Ray finally spoke up and sighed- "She knows we are here for her no matter what, but she has to do what her heart tells her to do."

- "Thank you, dad, but don’t think for a minute I’m gonna forgive him"

- "Even if you do, Bug. You will always count on me"- the guitarist walked to her and kissed her temple.

- "Best dad ever"- she whispered and opened the door.

Matthew felt his heart stop in his chest when he saw her walking over to him. He did the only thing that came to his mind and raised the banner he still held in his hands, so she could find him. It wasn’t hard to see him. There weren’t many people left at the arena, mostly just the crew setting everything to go.

- "Hey"- Joey said and waved as she walked to him and stood right in front of him. Just like she had imagined, she could feel the warmth of her eyes traveling down her face as he stared at her in pure bliss and love.

- "Hey"- he replied and smiled. He didn’t really want to talk. He didn’t know what to say. All he could think of was to kiss her and hold her tight.

- "What are you doing here, Matthew?"- she finally asked and crossed her arms on her chest to remind herself she couldn’t feel anything but anger against him and that she shouldn’t be so happy to see him. Or worse, she shouldn’t be showing him how happy she was to see him.

- "I just wanted you to know how much I love you"

- "By traveling to San Francisco to see a show?"

- "With a handmade banner"- he added and smiled.

- “That damn fucking adorable smile is gonna be the end of me,”- Joey sighed, thinking what to say next, making her best to stay calmed and not drooling over him.

- "That was a good touch."

- "Thanks, just like Lizzy, I would walk any distance just to be with you ‘cos you are my whole purpose."

Joey nodded, melting inside, as she made her best to stay cold and look indifferent. She didn’t know if it was working, but she wanted to believe so.

- "I’m not gonna forgive you just 'cos you showed up unannounced to a show"- that was all that came to her mind, it wasn’t the most intelligent answer, but it was all she had.

- "I wasn’t expecting you to forgive me today"- he simply replied and shrugged. There was a weird mix of security and happiness around his whole attitude Joey couldn’t wrap her mind around.

- "Good"- that was the whole answer she could give him, furrowing her brows. Matthew stared at her in silence for a second and took a step forward, closing the gap between them a little.

- "It was an amazing show, by the way"- he said and smiled. Joey’s knees shook as a response.

- "Thanks"- she whispered and looked down

- "How’s the little bean?"

- "Good… floating, I guess. I’ve felt pretty good today."

- "That’s great"- the two of them nodded at the same time and stayed quiet- "Remember to play the tracks I made for the bean."

- "Yeah, I will tonight."

- "They are just for the baby, so no peeking, ok?"- Matthew’s voice felt velvety as he talked close to Joey. She managed to raise her eyes from the ground, and Gubler swore his heart could be heard from any corner of that arena as it beat harder just to feel her looking at him.

- "I’ll put the headphones on the belly, so it will be the first secret you can share with your baby"- she smiled at the end of her answer, and Matthew held his breath.

- "That’s the cutest thing I could think of"- he mumbled, and the two of them stared in silence, sharing a moment that was a mix between love and angst.

Joey was still fighting to get away from him and stay mad at him. She had to play over and over again, like an old movie, the pictures she saw of Matthew cheating, just to keep herself from wrapping her arms around his neck.

- "Does she look in pain to you?!"- Jamia pushed Frank back as he kept trying to walk towards Joey and Matthew and drag her away from him.

- "She is gonna cry! He is gonna make her cry!"

- "Frank! This is not your war! Look at them and tell me they are not in love! If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts above their heads!"- Jamia was right, but Frank didn’t want to listen.

- "Hey!! Asshole!!"- Frank yelled, and Joey turned to him, frowning- "Stay the fuck away from her!!"

- "Oh shit!"- the words sneaked through her lips as Matthew looked at Frank and didn’t find anything better to do but to wave, infuriating Iero even more- "You know he wants to kill you, right?"

- "I am aware… the way they all looked at me made it pretty clear during the show, Gerard actually spit on my face."

The way Matthew said, it didn’t sound like it was a big deal. But it was, and Joey’s eyes were wide open as soon as she heard him.

- "He did what??!"- and she shouted- "Who the fuck does he think he is??!"

The young woman’s face was red in anger, and she quickly turned around and headed to the backstage area. But Matthew stopped her, grabbing her hand quickly.

- "Hey! Hey! Calm down, it’s ok! I don’t care!"

- "But I care!! This has nothing to do with him! He is not even my friend!! What the fuck does he think he is doing?!"

Unfortunately, the scene didn’t really look good from a distance, and Frank watching them, not getting what they were talking about, could only see his friend trying to get rid of Matthew and him not letting her go.

- "Take your hands off her!!"- Frank shouted and ran over, Jamia following close behind- "I said let go!!"- he pushed Matthew and put an arm in front of Joey, trying to keep her back.

- "What the fuck, dude?"- Joey shouted.

- "I don’t want him to hurt you, Bug!"

- "I’m not hurting her!!"- Matthew frowned, feeling insulted- "Why would I hurt the mother of my baby?!"

- "He ain’t hurting me!!"- Joey supported him, ‘cos Frank actually ignored Gubler’s words

- "Doesn’t look like he is being pretty nice either!!"

- "Frank! Stop it! Joey says nothing is going on!"- Jamia held Frank’s arm as Matthew tried to cool down the mood.

- "Hey! Nothing is going on"- Gubler used the calmest voice he could to talk to Iero- "I understand you wanna protect Joey from me ‘cos I was an asshole and fucked it up, but I am not gonna hurt her!! Ok?"

- "What fuck do you know! You broke her, and I am not gonna let you near her again!"- and just like the day Mikey had told him the same, Matthew’s heart tightened in his chest, listening to Frank yelling how badly he had hurt the woman he loved.

- "I can take care of myself!!"- Joey shouted- "So stop it! Now let me go kill that mother fucker!!"- the drummer turned around and started jogging to the dressing room. But Matthew followed her quickly and grabbed her hand again.

- "Please don’t! Joey, I don’t care! He can do whatever he wants to do. That ain’t gonna stop me!"

- "You don’t get it! I hate the guy! And the fact he thinks he can come and spit on your face like he is the fucking king of the world, or that he can avenge my sorrow, it’s wrong!!"- Joey pushed and let go of Matthew’s grip and continued her way until she opened the door and found Gerard, Mikey, and Ray playing with the twins.

- "Hey Bug"- Mikey turned and smiled, but Joey ignored him, ‘cos her eyes were locked on Gerard’s, staring at him with pure hate.

- "What the fuck is your problem, kúkalabbi (scumbag)?"- she spit every word with contempt- "You fucking think you can come and do whatever you want ‘cos you are the fucking lead singer of a band?"

Gerard frowned, though he had a hint of what might have happened.

- "I don’t care what the fuck came through your mind at the moment! You can’t spit on someone’s face! You can’t spit on Matthew’s face!"

Mikey wide opened his eyes as soon as he heard those words. Even for him, that was a little too much.

- "Joey, I think I can…"- Gerard tried to explain.

- "Haltu kjafti! (shut up!) No, you can’t!"- but Joey shut him up in a second- "This is my problem, my battle, and my fucking business!! You have no right in trying to avenge me! None!"

- "He fucking cheated on you, and you are mad at me?!"- he frowned, surprised, not getting what was going on.

- "Yes! I am mad at you! You are not even my friend, and you were doing shit I never asked you or wished for you to do!"

- "If I want to spit on his face, I can fucking do it!"- Gerard shouted back- "I hate the fucking bastard!"

- "So I can spit on yours then!!"- and Joey was about to do it when Matthew rushed and covered her mouth.

- "No! No! No!"- he held her tight, but sweetly- "Calm down! please! Calm down!"

- "What the fuck are you doing here?!"- and Gerard freaked out at the sight of Gubler- "Get the fuck out!"

- "I will be gone as soon as Joey asks me to leave"- Matthew simply answered and looked into Gerard’s eyes with the same hate yet calm he had the last time he saw Way at Mikey’s New Year’s eve party.

- "Who the fuck do you think you are?! Get out before I kick you out!"- at that point, Jamia and Frank were in the room as well. Jamia had an eye put on her babies, playing in their cart, while holding Frank back to keep him from getting into that fight.

- "Stop it!"- Joey managed to move from Matthew’s grip and looked into Gerad’s eyes in a fury- "I hate you!"

She didn’t yell, but her words were a dagger and cold as ice. The honesty was evident. Maybe now Gerard was going to understand he had to step back. She looked at him in the eyes for a second, then grabbed her things and stormed out, followed closely by Matthew.

- "What the fuck?"- Mikey asked to break the awkward silence that hung in the room after Joey had stormed out.

- "I spit on his face today, when I saw him there, looking at her with his stupid fucking puppy eyes, I just… lost it and spit on him- Gerard murmured, and his voice broke.

She hated him. She meant it. How was he going to win her back if she hated him? Jamia’s jaw fell as soon as she heard him. One thing was hating the guy, even trying to punch him, but spitting on someone’s face, that was… well, it seemed offensive and degrading. It was over the top.

- "Not that I wouldn’t think about doing something like it, but…"- Frank started, but Jamia’s eyes stopped him

- "That was out of line, Gerard"- Ray said with a calm, though stern tone of voice- "I told you all, the only thing you are gonna accomplish by acting like a bunch of possessive friends is to push her away. If you all call yourself her friends, you can’t fucking do this shit!"

It felt like Ray was scolding his kids. Mikey wanted to argue, but it was true, just like the day he had hit Matthew in Joey’s house, and she had freaked out and gotten mad at him.

- "I would do it again if I could"- Gerard whispered and sat down, fighting the urges of smoking a cigarette.

- "That’s why you ain’t her friend"- Ray added, and the look coming from Way’s eyes let him know he wasn’t happy with the reply- "Her words, not mine."

Matthew followed Joey on her way out of the arena. The cold air hit her skin and made her shiver as they stood foot outside the building.

- "Here"- he quickly took his hoodie off and gave it to her. She didn’t argue. She was too mad to argue about anything else. She was also too mad to talk about it. She just wanted to walk away from everything. Walk and ease her mind.

- "Excuse me, Joey?"- a girl walked over with a huge smile and forced her to take her eyes from the ground- "Can I have your autograph, please?"- Matthew wide opened his eyes in amazement. Joey quickly smiled and grabbed a sharpie from her bag. She signed the girl’s ticket to the show and smiled for a selfie with her.

- "Wow"- Matthew chuckled as the girl was gone- "That was…"

- "Weird, I know"

- "That was amazing! Kids are reacting to your work! Kids are looking at you and being excited about what you do! I am so fucking proud!"- he didn’t really stop himself to think. He just wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight.

- "Thanks"- she whispered and felt how her cheeks turned pink- It’s still pretty weird. It’s not something that happens all the time, but…

- "It’s impressive, Joey!"- Matthew nearly yelled- "I mean it, sometimes it shocks me how cooler and greater you can be!"

He sounded honest. He sounded proud. Joey’s heartbeat in joy with those words but didn’t say a word. She was thankful it was night, and the street lights weren’t illuminating his face properly, or he would be able to see how blushed and nervous she was.

- "Don’t overreact"- she murmured and kept on walking in silence. Matthew sighed and walked with her, stuffing his hands in his pocket to stop himself from trying to hold her hand.

- "Are you hungry?"- he asked after a while

- "No"

- "When was your last meal?"

- "An apple and a fun size Snicker before the show"

- "Mikey keeps controlling your candies?"

- "Yes… but Jamia is a horrible influence"- Joey chuckled at the thought of the two of them that afternoon acting like kids- "She gives me Oreos"

- "That’s drugs!"- Matthew acted shocked- You shouldn’t!

- "I know! But they are so good!"- the drummer smiled. Talking about anything was better than addressing the pink elephant in the room.

- "And how’s Jamia?"

- "Great, she is baby training me with the twins."

- "That’s very nice of her"

- "Yeah, and the babies are the sweetest…"- Joey made a pause and sighed- "She is the only rooting for you."

- "I knew I liked her for a reason."

- "Frank keeps saying it’s because she has the hots for you."

- "She doesn’t"

- "She totally does"- and the young woman laughed at her own words. Matthew only smiled widely to hear her happy for a moment- "I was actually considering selling Frank a picture of you in underwear for her birthday."

- "Double the price, and we go halfsies"- Gubler answered and chuckled- "I can even pose like a french model."

- "Deal"- there was a silence between them that lasted a few minutes. Gubler didn’t know what to say, and Joey didn’t know either.

- "Are you sure you are not hungry?"- he asked, just to ask anything

- "Do you think I overreacted back there?"- she just spit it. She was scared she had exaggerated the whole deal, and now the guys were going to fire her. Gerard could. He definitely should after how she acted with him. He was, after all, the closest thing she had to a boss. They were all the people she worked for, not with.

- "No, Joey, you didn’t… I mean… I really don’t care how he acts with me ‘cos I know he is a mother fucker asshole in love with you."

Joey’s heart froze at those words. She widened her eyes and looked at Matthew. She had almost forgotten he had always said that about Gerard. And he was absolutely right.

- "I know it’s true. I don’t care what he says, he is crystal clear, but that’s not the point."

- "The point is, I totally yelled at him in front of everybody, told him I hated him and stormed out the room like a brat after I tried to spit on his face… thank you for stopping me, by the way."

- "You are very welcome"- Matthew sighed and looked at his hand- "You totally spit on me, though"- he joked and cleaned his hand on Joey’s sleeve.

- "Gross!!"- she argued and chuckled- "This is your hoodie, by the way"

- "Damn it!"- the two of them smiled and just walked around.

- "Maybe I could eat some pizza"- Joey whispered and pointed to a little restaurant in the next corner

- "Pizza it is."

Mikey looked at his clock as he stared at the ceiling in his room. It was eleven-thirty, no news from Joey. He was worried but didn’t want to call her, ‘cos after hearing Ray talking, he didn’t want to push her away. He didn’t want to make her feel like he was mad at her. He was just worried. Worried as fuck. Feared to lose her, to see her sad again. Worried she might leave forever.

A knock on the door made him jump from his bed and run to the answer. It was Gerard. He looked like shit. Mikey left the door open and let him in, walking back to his bed.

- "How are you?"- his question was pretty stupid considering Gerard’s puffy eyes.

- "I fucked it up, right?"

- "Yeah… but in your defense…"- Mikey stayed quiet and thought about his words- "Well…"

- "I know, it wasn’t the way to deal with him"

- "It definitely wasn’t… but I don’t think it was so bad on its own. I think when you mix this with all the stupid shit you’ve done to Joey."

- "I haven’t done anything"

- "But keep harassing her and telling her that you love her"- Gerard groaned, annoyed, and laid back on the bed, hiding his face under his hands.

- "But I love her"

- "Dude! You are mad if you think this shit is gonna work. She clearly loves him. I’m starting to think she is gonna forgive him though I don’t want her to. And you are fucking married. There is no way you can get anything with her."

- "But maybe..."

- "She doesn’t love you, Gerard!"- Mikey shouted- "She doesn’t! You never stood a chance! And now she hates you! You can’t even be her friend. After today, you can’t even fucking try! You dig your own grave!"

Gerard heard his younger brother’s words. He wasn’t even sugarcoating it. Maybe that way, Gee would understand. Maybe he was doing it ‘cos he loved him. Mikey was being tuff ‘cos he was also pretty tired of his brother’s attitude. Gerard wasn’t being rational. He was acting like an animal, with no clear thoughts, just based on his instincts.

- "And what do I do now?"- Way whispered, and Mikey sighed.

- "Start with apologizing and pray she doesn’t want to leave the band"- the singer wide opened his eyes. He hadn’t thought about that, but it was a serious chance. Maybe he had pushed her too far.

- "Do you think she can quit?"

- "I don’t know what can happen. She isn’t the kind of girl who can take these kinds of things very easily"

- "If she can forgive Matthew, she can forgive me"- Gerard thought out loud

- "She loves him, she hates you, you do the math."

- "But we are in the middle of a tour. She can’t leave like that."

- "I think the same, but it all depends on her."

- "What does Ray think of this?"

- "I haven’t talked to him"- Gerard grabbed his phone and dialed Toro’s number.

Ray frowned as he stared at the brothers. Mikey was lying on the bed, looking at his phone, waiting for a call or a text from Joey. Gerard was walking in circles in the room, rambling about making Joey stay in the band.

- "If she wants to leave, she can leave"- Toro said when there was finally silence in the room. Both Ways looked at him, shocked, but Ray just smiled- "Hey! It’s her fucking decision! Not ours!"

- "Do you want her to leave?!"- Mikey nearly yelled

- "No way! I love her in the band! I’m just saying if she decides something, we should respect her."

- "You keep saying the same shit! And you are not considering the fact she could make a mistake"- Gerard frowned and kept walking in circles.

- "Come on! She ain’t a baby! And she ain’t yours to take care of! She can manage herself pretty well, so stop it! You just don’t want her to leave, I can understand that! but just stop giving her reasons to do it!"- Ray didn’t know if Mikey was aware of how fuck up his brother was. And Mikey didn’t know if Ray knew Gerard had given her plenty of reasons to leave already.

- "She is not even here yet!"- Gerard was thinking to himself, but his friends could listen to him clearly- "I bet she already forgave him."

- "Still not your problem!"- Ray added, frustrated.

- "I love her! How can’t it be my problem!"- it felt so good to take it out of his chest, but Ray’s shocked face made Gerard realize he had said too much- "I mean, she is my friend, and…"

- "Oh come on!"- Mikey argued, sick of listening to his brother talking about his feelings- "You are in love with her, and it’s sick! Deal with it!"

- "And it’s not like you are making it hard to guess anyway"- Toro added- "Frank has been arguing you have feelings for her for months now."

- "And you told her your “feelings,” and she rejected you!"- Mikey said, making Ray insanely curious. He needed to know the details of that story.

- "What I feel is not your fucking business"- Gerard said defensibly.

- "It is if you are making this kind of show! Your wife will be here in a few days, so get your shit together and be professional for once!"- Ray argued and sighed- "I’m going to bed now, please try to leave that woman make her own desitions and her own life, and just focus on being good friends"- he said and waved- "And don’t fuck it up!"

The night was cold. The wind played with Joey’s hair as she stood outside her hotel, biting her lips, holding her backpack tight, and making her best not to look Matthew in the eyes as he stood in front of her, smiling. It all gave her the first date vibes. Like they hadn’t been down that path already.

- "Well… I better go. I’ve got another flight tomorrow"- she whispered, and he nodded.

- "Yes, you have to rest, you just played a kickass show"- he answered and smiled- "And our little bean must be exhausted with all the walking we just did."

- "Little bean is floating carelessly inside my tummy, making me crave for a brownie"- Matthew chuckled and opened his backpack.

- "I just have cashews"- and he handed her a paper bag. She couldn’t help but smile at him as she grabbed it and opened it in a second.

- "Your addiction coming in handy"- he chuckled and nodded.

- "I’ve got more if you want"- Matthew started looking in his backpack, but Joey stopped him.

- " Thanks, but these are enough for today"- they stayed in silence for a second, Joey staring at the bag, Matthew staring at her, caressing her skin with his eyes, looking at her eyes, her lips, her hair- "Are you going back home tomorrow?"- she asked and still didn’t dare to look at him in the eyes.

- "Not yet"- he whispered and bit his lips, wishing she wouldn’t ask him if he was going to keep on following her. A part of him wanted to keep it a secret surprise for one more show, at least. And a huge part of her was too scared to ask if she was going to see him at another show.

- "Well… take care"- she said and finally managed to stare into his eyes. It was a mistake, considering how badly she wanted to kiss him and how much she had to argue to herself to avoid doing it. And he was looking at her in adoration, with such love she felt she could melt like an ice cube under the July sun.

- "Remember to play the bean my tracks"- he said, and she nodded.

- "I surely will"

- "I don’t want the bean to forget about me."

- "That won’t happen, I promise"- they just stared in silence for a moment, Matthew almost leaning over to kiss her- "Ok, bye"- Joey waved and turned around.

- "Wait!"- Gubler held her hand and stopped her. He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her. She stood still, not moving an inch, as his warmth filled her skin under her clothes, and his lips pressed a kiss on the top of her head- "Take care"

- "You too"- she mumbled, words having trouble to leave her lips ‘cos his closeness was killing her- "Wait, I still I’ve got your hoodie"- she tried to move away from him to take it out, but Matthew looked at her and shook his head.

- "Keep it… please"- Joey had left all of Matthew’s clothing back in her apartment, ‘cos she didn’t want to carry anything that reminded her of him for the next month. Having his hoodie was against her own rules. Then why did it make her feel so happy?

- "Thanks"- she moved apart from him and watched his smile for one last time- "Good night Matthew Gray"- her words were a whisper that made him shiver. He loved the way his name sounded like coming from her lips.

- "Good night María Josefina."

The actor waited until Joey was out of her sight to walk away from the hotel. He headed it to his hotel, a few blocks away. Ignoring the whole problem with Gerard, he thought things had been pretty good after all. He really didn’t care about Way at all. He knew he would give him a hard time. He just didn’t want him to make Joey feel bad. Joey was all that mattered to him. Mikey and Frank could threaten to hit him, even fulfill their threats. He didn’t care. He even agreed with them. He deserved to pay. But Gerard? No, he didn’t have any right to get into that fight. Gerard was an asshole who needed to stay away from Joey. He was the one Matthew hated.

- “I don’t think I had ever hated someone as bad as I hate that son of a bitch”- but that didn’t matter at the moment, now Matthew had a bigger issue to tackle: Which was going to be the phrase in the banner he had to make for tomorrow’s show?.

There was a knock on Mikey’s door, minutes after Gerard had left. He groaned and walked to answer, to find Joey standing at the other side, with a shy smile on her lips, almost a sheepish look.

- "Are you mad at me?"- she whispered right away, and he opened his arms to hug her.

- "Never."

- "You swear? ‘cos I yelled at your brother I hate him in front of the whole band and tried to spit on his face"

- "He was out of place, and he deserved it"- Mikey whispered and kissed the top of her head. His touch felt so different from Matthew’s a few minutes ago. It almost made Joey feel guilty that her friend had kissed her head after the man she loved had done the same. Almost like she was cheating.

- "And are you mad Matthew was there?"- Mikey let her go and invited her in.

- "Are you ok with him being there?"

Joey stayed in silence, walking into the room, standing next to the bed instead of sitting down. She looked down at her hands and didn’t say anything. Ray’s words were starting to make sense to Mikey as he looked at her and thought she was going to start drifting away from him if he continued being an ass.

- "Bug, it’s ok. I am not gonna get mad at you… if you love him, if you want to be with him, I’m still gonna be your friend."

- "I just don’t know what I want"- she whispered and scratched her eyes, feeling tired and sleepy

- "Anything you want to talk about, I am here, and I swear I’m gonna be the best friend in the world, and I am not gonna judge you, I am not gonna freak out, and more than anything, I am just going to worry about your happiness, ok?"- Joey pouted at her friend and wrapped her arms around him.

- "I just don’t want you to be mad at me ‘cos you are my best friend."

- "I will never get mad at you Bug, you are my little sister, and I love you. I just want to take care of you."

- "I don’t like it when people try to take care of me. I know what I’m doing."

- "I know…"

- "But I’m gonna let it slide with you ‘cos you are my brother"- she said and chuckled against his shirt. Mikey kissed the top of her head again, and she chuckled- "Just don’t push me."

- "I won’t…"- Mikey chuckled and moved to look at her- "We are cheesy, though"

- "So fucking cheesy!!"- Joey chuckled and sighed, relieved- "Ok, now that I took that from my chest, I need to go to bed. I am so fucking tired."

- "Did you eat?"

- "Yeah, Gubler bought dinner"

- "And he also gave you his clothes apparently"- Mikey pointed her hoodie and noticed she blushed.

- "Yeah… I’ll still steal yours, you know"- he smiled and messed with her hair.

- "I’m counting on it. I actually had them washed"

- "Thank you so fucking much!!"

Mikey felt a little better after Joey left. She was worried he was mad at her when he was concerned about the same. She didn’t say a word about leaving the band. That was even better. And she didn’t look sad after being with Matthew. That was enough to let him sleep calmly that night.

Joey was weary. She kicked off her shoes and laid on the bed, closing her eyes. Matthew’s smell surrounding her made her smile and sigh. Yes, he had been romantic. Yes, she had butterflies in her stomach. Yes, she loved him. None of that took away the fact he was a cheater, but he was trying to make amends. That was undeniable. How much was he willing to try? And how much was enough for her to forgive her? Neither of that she knew, but it didn’t matter at the moment. For a few seconds, Joey allowed herself to be in love.

Before she drifted off in her sleep, she remembered Matthew asked her to play the songs he had put on the iPod for their baby. She didn’t want to move from that bed, but she was way too curious to know what was in it.

- "Hey Bean, we are gonna tell your dad you are the only one who listened to it, but mom is gonna sneak a little bit, ok?"- the young woman whispered to her tummy, feeling like a dork.

- "I’m gonna take that silence as a yes"- she put on a headphone and placed another on her belly.

- "Hey Bean!"- Matthew’s voice caught her breath as soon as the first track started- "It’s me! Your dad! I wanted to record these for you so you can remember my voice while you are away with your mommy, ok? Sorry, it’s not the most soothing voice you’ll ever hear, but I love you, so I guess it’ll have to do the trick"- Joey chuckled and closed her eyes, refusing to take out that hoodie, listening to Matthew’s voice, and drowning in his scent.

- "So let’s start with a bedtime story, I’ve got the feeling you are doing a lot of sleeping in there, so I’ll read you one of my favorites growing up"- Joey’s heart melt with each word recorded on that iPod

- "I promise when you are out of your mommy, I’m gonna reread it, and you’ll tell me if you like it, ok? Now, let’s get to business:"

“I am Sam. I am Sam. Sam-I-Am.

That Sam-I-Am! That Sam-I-Am! I do not like that Sam-I-Am!

Do you like green eggs and ham?

I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.

I do not like green eggs and ham.

Would you like them here or there?

I would not like them here or there.

I would not like them anywhere.

I do not like green eggs and ham.

I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.”

Slowly and softly, Matthew’s voice relaxed Joey like a sweet lullaby, and she fluttered her eyes until she fell asleep safe and sound as his reading continued reading Dr. Seuss's stories to their baby.

Taglist: @all-tings-diego @worryd0ll

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#gerard way #matthew gray gubler #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #mcr #mcr fanfic #mgg fanfic #babymetalldoll writes

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choosing-criminalminds · 3 years

Text

One More Time

Summary: Their love was years and years in the making, and even when prison quickly builds back up the walls they worked so hard to break down, Spencer learns just how strong the foundation of their trust is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader(ish) -> told mostly in the 3rd person, from Spencer’s POV

Category: angst (?)

Warnings: mentions of character death (Maeve, Gideon), mentions of blood (Maeve’s death), slight panic/anxiety, language -> let me know if there are any more to add!

Also, un-beta’d, we die like the trash we are.

Length: 5.6k

A/N: Okay yeah so first post. So…this turned out much longer than expected? This is for Ellie’s ( @spenciebabie ) writing contest/celebration and goodness I’m so nervous because I’ve barely written, much less posted, anything in years. Anyway, I guss I decided to challenge myself to write this? I hope you guys like it?

Also, if anyone wants a new friend, please hit me up because I’m too shy to say hello myself.

Prompt was: “Why don’t you make me?”

-*-*-*-

“Trust has to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time.”

—Arthur Ashe

-*-*-*-

For all his genius, Spencer didn’t know what to make of the fact that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

It wasn’t until years down the line that he realized he had been exceptionally aware of her since they met, carefully observing, cataloguing the way she so gently and kindly defied every expectation and pushed past every preconceived notion he had of her. By then, she had already settled in a little corner of his heart and helped seal the cracks in his life that he didn’t even know existed.

But when she first joined the team as an intern, he was more than a little reluctant to get to know her. It was during the summer between her college graduation and the start of her graduate studies, and she seemed too worldly, too perfect. She wasn’t like the girls from high school, or even college, for that matter, who were simply mean. On the contrary, she was wonderfully polite and incredibly ambitious, intelligent, and very much the type of girl that was far too out of his league, one that wouldn’t spare him a second glance before continuing down whatever focused path she was on.

That’s why he planned to avoid her as much as possible her first day in the office. She had, thankfully, spent the morning in Hotch’s office, since he was her official supervisor, but when he saw them about to emerge right before lunch, he panicked, muttered a random excuse, and shuffled out of the bullpen, leaving a bemused Derek and Elle in his wake.

It didn’t help that he was ducking out of rooms while JJ was giving her a quick tour and making introductions, and almost every member of the team had cornered him, encouraging him to talk to her, to befriend her due to their closeness in age. (“She’s only what? Two-ish years younger than you?” When he mumbled that exact date, Penelope had broken into a large, wicked grin, poking him teasingly in the cheek. Gratefully, she held back any further comment.)

Spencer had blinked, a little surprised, when Penelope Garcia, who generally disliked change, had only good things to say. Remarkably humble about her achievements, and not in the standoffish fake way, Penelope commented after admitting she had run a background check on her. Genuine, and quite sweet.

Polite, Derek had said, if a little quiet, trying to see where she fits in the team dynamic. You should reach out, be a friend, he suggested.(Spencer ignored the very pretty slipped somewhere in the comment, as well as the knowing smile shot his direction when he felt his cheeks flushing.)

A surprisingly wicked sense of humor, was all Elle said with a sly smile. (Spencer chose to ignore that too.)

And when Spencer tentatively asked the man, Jason Gideon, a man of generally few words, had spoken of her, however briefly, with surprising fondness, because of course Gideon had met her when she was a child, because of course her uncle now headed legal three floors up, and of course her uncle was the last third of the BAU’s Holy Trinity, of which Gideon and Rossi were a part of.

You’ll get along very nicely.

Spencer was incredibly intimidated, to say the least.

And then when he couldn’t avoid her anymore (because of course they were desked next to each other), all it took for her was noticeably catching herself from extending a hand, then offering a small little wave and a nervous smile to leave him breathless. (He pointedly ignored the look knowing look JJ shot him.)

He tried to stifle the little seed of hope—that she definitely wasn’t interested in him, and her saccharine smile was nothing more than a false front to make a positive impression during a lucrative FBI internship meant only to bolster her resume—but the resolve crumbled quickly. She turned out to be so genuinely kind and sweetly humble that Spencer cursed the fact that the internship lasted only through that summer.

It also certainly didn’t help, either, that the very first thought he had when meeting her was a single word.

Pretty.

-*-*-*-

It was almost ridiculous how well she got along with everyone in the office.

She clearly made it a mission to make the most of the time she had and was more than willing to put in the work and prove her worth. Although she was technically Hotch’s intern and her main role was to assist the core field team, Spencer watched as she managed to get on absolutely everyone’s good graces through a combination of unassuming charm, sharp wit, and willingness to learn and to help that was so uniquely her.

For Spencer, it meant that she happily listened to what he had to say, encouraging him to continue when appropriate or saving a quiet question for later when it wasn’t. When she told him that she enjoyed listening to him talk, Spencer was taken aback, stuttering as he tried to figure out if she was only saying that to be polite. She gave him a gracious smile, ensured that she “quite honestly enjoyed” listening to him, and proceeded to ask a few well-timed and well-pointed questions to smoothly nudge him back to their previous topic.

Spencer stared at her, slack-jawed, then smiled bashfully, and allowed himself to hope.

(He definitely didn’t know what to do with the fact that when she knowingly reached out to his hand resting on the table and lightly tapped the back of his hand, he didn’t have his typical knee-jerk desire to pull away. He also mostly certainly didn’t know what to do with the fact that when her thumb grazed over his knuckles to sooth the tension he didn’t even realize he had, he felt an inexplicable calm ease into his very bones.)

-*-*-*-

“It’ll take a good five, six years to finish my J.D./Ph.D., but Hotch offered me an open invitation to join the team when I do, and I’m more than inclined to take his offer when the time comes.”

Spencer peered at her, breathing out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding. It was the last day of her internship, and she was making the rounds to say her thank you’s and goodbyes individually to the members of the team. He was the last one, and he had been dreading the conversation the entire day.

While he wouldn’t describe what he felt for her as anything beyond a genuine, platonic friendship—in the grand scheme of things, they’d only known each other for ten weeks—their easy companionship had become very dear to him. And he was terrified and nervous that her time with the BAU would be just a small chapter in her life before she moved on to the bigger and better things, leaving him behind as a fond but distant memory.

She laughed softly at his surprise, before it trailed off into a sigh. She then took a deep breath and asked. “Do you trust me?” Spencer looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. Did he trust her? Her gaze was heavy on him and the question weighty, a gentle demand for an honest answer. Did he trust her? Yes, he did, he supposed, they were friends. Right? He breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders just a bit, and answered in the affirmative.

As if she sensed his hesitance, his unease, she gave him a knowing look and took one of his hands into hers, fingers brushing over fingers, before hooking her pinky around his. “Because I promise you, Spencer Reid, I’ll be back, right here. You’ll be waiting for me, yeah?”

He looked at her in awe, the dim light of the nearly-empty office reflecting off her kind eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, and she smiled so brilliantly that he nearly forgot to breathe, to answer. To answer. He smiled back, twitchy, introspective, and considered the weight of her question. He nodded and responded simply.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She managed to remain on the Bureau’s consulting payroll over the next several years, though she was primarily based in the Bay Area as she finished her graduate studies at Stanford. The team as a whole still went to her for a fresh perspective when needed; she video called in to help on cases when necessary and met up in person if a case called them to California.

He knew that she kept in touch with JJ, Penelope, and Derek, and that Hotch and Emily (whom she met shortly after Emily joined the team and a case brought them to LA) were also friendly, if professional, contacts. Spencer himself was known to receive the odd phone call from her.

However, what had Spencer almost covetously pleased was that they had something they shared exclusively between the two of them, because she had steadfastly kept her promise to write to him.

-*-*-*-

Her letters were as beautiful as they were constant, and Spencer handled and read each one with care.

Her handwriting suited her; while it generally was neat and clear little scrawl, he knew it would get a little freer, and little loopier when she was tired, if she was particularly excited, or if she found herself a bit tipsy. (And yet she still managed to always write in an almost perfectly straight line even on a blank sheet of paper. He was envious, and when he told her as such, he could hear the laughter in her response as she wrote it a little more wobbly than usual.) And while he knew her to be tilted more on the quiet, introverted side of the scale, she had a way with the written word, each phrase poetic and thoughtful.

And they were remarkably therapeutic to write in return, Spencer found. Their initial letters mostly consisted of light banter about their mutual and individual interests, updates on the progress of her research (sprinkled amusing tidbits of her exasperation and frustration), bits and pieces about his cases and updates on and amusing anecdotes about the team.

However, over time, he slowly opened up to her, about his fears, his hopes, his dreams. And when he hesitantly divulged bits and pieces about the drugs, his mother, the headaches, he felt the relief in his entire body when she responded with empathy and grace. In turn, she did the same. She was vulnerable, she was open, and as wonderful and quite near perfect as he knew her to be, he was pleased to find her so incredibly human.

Those letters he slowed down to read, committing them to memory with more intention.

(He kept her letters in the drawer of his desk at his apartment, and eventually moved them to a specially designated box when he needed more room. When he learned that she did the same, he couldn’t help the tender warmth that fluttered in his chest. He still didn’t know what to do with the feeling.)

-*-*-*-

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It took six years, and an additional five months at the Academy (and then another few weeks as she was introduced to the legal team, with whom she would also be working with in her role as legal liaison), but she kept her promise and found her way back to the BAU, and it was like she was never gone.

This time, in her re-introduction to the team, she was a breath of fresh air.

When she approached him individually with a nervous smile, she reached out, then hesitated, and a sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer. But then, she had placed a hand on his elbow, and when she smiled, he breathed in a sense of peace and familiarity, of comfort.

“You waited.”

He smiled back, and in a rather forward gesture on his part, he adjusted so he could take the hand on his arm into his.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She was too good for him.

Whatever relationship they had—Spencer didn’t know what to call it, though friendship seem too trivial of a word for it—he knew it was too good, too perfect to last.

Because in a cruel twist of fate, her first case back on the team, however unofficial it was, was Maeve.

He was hyperaware of the neutral expression on her face when he finally brought his fears to the team. To anyone else she would seem serene and put together, but to him the slight sag in her shoulders and the realization transitioning to acceptance were clear as day. Spencer never mentioned Maeve to her in their letters, but later, in retrospect, he believed she had an inkling, at the very least. You seem happier, she had written, once, not too long after he first became acquainted with Maeve, and that makes me happy.

Did it? Then he didn’t want to know what his misery would do to her because then, Maeve died, and in his grief over another woman, he fought desperately to push her away.

She could share his happiness, but he refused to let her share his pain, his brokenness. She did not deserve that, and he would not be the one to destroy the beauty and sunshine and hope she brought everywhere with her.

But when they finally took Maeve’s body away, and when the blurred commotion of sirens and law enforcement and emergency services and constant hammering of half-hearted condolences and check-ins finally died down, he felt the blanket around his shoulders be adjusted, and a now-familiar pair of hands take in his own, firm, and refusing to ever let go. Thumbs traced over his knuckles as soothingly as he remembered, and only then did he begin to vaguely process the fact those hands had been tucked into his almost the entire evening, anchoring him through the haze and the fog.

As if on cue, she squeezed his hand gently, like she knew exactly when he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, and he suddenly found he lacked the strength to do what he initially intended.

Still dazed, he felt her shift, and she was kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sat on the curb, and softly drew him into a hug. Any form of resistance he previously had dissolved; he clung to her, tears stinging his eyes once again.

It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll stay, she whispered, I’ll stay, always and always.

Just don’t push me away.

“I-” His voice cracked. “I loved her.”

He paused, his voice weakening.

“I love her...”

Hands ran soothingly through his hair.

“I know.”

She always did.

“…so much.”

He didn’t need to see her face to realize that she was crying with him, for him—he could feel her trying to contain the trembling in her chest, trying desperately to remain composed. He tried to do the same, but when she tilted her head and let him bury his face into her neck, Spencer finally felt fresh tears begin to flow, and he allowed her to take his face into her hands and chase the tears with her fingers.

And Spencer wept freely, first for death of the woman he loved, and then for the tears and the grief he caused the one person he could call his kindred spirit, his soulmate.

-*-*-*-

He healed, slowly.

There were good days, when the thought of Maeve did not stir up memories of blood and fear and gunshots but, rather, of auburn hair and admiration and hushed conversations on the phone. On those days, he felt like he was no longer haunted by a ghost and could finally begin to move on. On those days, he could slow down, appreciate the small things again, and focus on how a pair of familiar, steady hands pulled him out of the past, anchored him in the present, and allowed him to hope about the future.

But then there were the bad days when her touch scalded and burned his skin. The warmth and the pulse of blood rushing through her veins and the germs on her hands and her life was overwhelming because Maeve was dead and cold and gone. So, with every glare and with every sharp comment aimed at where he knew it would hurt, he finally made good on his desire to push her away.

It was on those days the bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered how it was supposed to be Maeve, not her, there alive with him, holding his hand as they faced the world.

It was also on those days he chose to disregard the regret that settled in the pit of his stomach each time he heard his own biting voice, and disregard the horror brought on by even thinking of wishing she were dead instead. He began to ignore the tremble in her hands when she reached out to him and brushed her fingers against his in concern, and he ignored how she gradually began pulling back, hesitant, nervous that her touch would be unwarranted, unwanted. He certainly ignored the unconscious flex in his hand, the ache for the reassurance and comfort he had become so accustomed to—

He ignored it all until he woke up, one night, to an empty bed, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through his body and bile rose in his throat. She was right there, when he fell asleep, giving him a small smile and nod when he asked if she could read to him, to stay the night. Now, without a word, she was gone, she was gone, shewasgone and Spencer could feel the tightness in his chest and tears sting his eyes when realized that the only one to blame was himself, himself, himself.

Why, he thought bitterly, why was he like this? Why must he try to push away every good thing in his life?

But then, there he stood, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks and ice running through his veins, as he found her curled up on his couch, franticly wiping away her own silent tears and exhaustion from her eyes. He stumbled forward, upset, upset at himself because he made her cry again. And when she flinched when he cradled her face in his hands, apologizing to him, he nearly choked back a sob, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the tears that did not belong on her face.

Neither of them went back to sleep that night, and Spencer began to realize just how strong she was, as she gently told him through her tears the hard truths of his situation and where she stood in relation to him.

I can’t fight with a ghost, she had murmured hoarsely, but I can work with her legacy and her memory.

And then, with a pinky wrapped around his, she promised that she would be there to help him through it, but the only way was if, and only if, he let her.

It was that night (or, rather, morning, as the sun rose) that he began to come to terms that, whether he deserved it or not, she—and her pure and unadulterated goodness—was more or less a permanent fixture in his life, and he felt more at peace than he had in ages. And when the early rays of sunlight filtered through his windows and caught her in a soft glow, he found himself once again in awe. He reached out, hesitantly, and his heart soared when he felt the familiar pressure of her hand slipping into his.

She was steadfast and loyal and strong. She was brave, she was patient, she was kind. Moreover, she was alive, she was breathing, and she was here, present, by his side. It took time, and more painful conversations and more painful realizations, but eventually, the good days were a bit more consistent, the sun just a bit brighter, and his breathing a just bit freer with her hand pressed firmly into his own, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers until his heartbeat synced with hers.

And Spencer was finally learning, learning about what to do with the fact that with her by his side, he felt like he could truly face the world.

-*-*-*-

Face the world he did.

When Gideon died, he felt his hand twitch, and the compulsion to escape and hide tugged at the back of his mind, and an old, nearly forgotten itch made its way from the crook of his elbow, slowly ebbing into in his veins and nagging in the crevices of the back of the mind.

But when he felt her hand slip into his, he felt it abate, the tension in his muscles eased. When her lips twitched into a knowing, gentle smile, he could see the underlying grief and frustration. Of course. She had known Gideon just as well as he did, if not better.

He breathed deeply and smiled back. It was weak, it was twitchy, and it was sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless. He wasn’t in this alone.

-*-*-*-

They were seated on a large blanket in a secluded park in D.C. on one of their rare days off when she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, and suddenly it seemed like all the right pieces finally fell into place.

And when she whispered those three little words, and everything made sense. He looked up from where he laid, and again he was breathless at how the setting sun caught in her hair and reflected off her skin and her eyes. But then, when he opened his mouth to respond, the same three little words caught in his throat and his breath hitched, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to respond, to let her know that her feelings were returned, but the words failed him.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, and he trembled as he felt her hands cupping his face and fingers gracing over his cheekbones, “if you don’t reciprocate; I’ll live. But I just wanted to let you know–know that I’ll be by your side no matter what happens.”

It wasn’t until they were at the door of her apartment, when he found the strength to push past the nerves and respond.

“I do re-reciprocate, and I want–I want to say it, because I do,” he stuttered out, “but I just…don’t know how to say it yet.”

He suddenly felt like a prepubescent schoolboy, nervous and quaking and terrified. But then, magnetic as she was, she brought his gaze back to her face, and her knowing smile breathed air back into his lungs. His heart blossomed, and the fingers rubbing circles into his hand anchored his attention on her. “Then I’ll wait until you can. Always. Forever.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer peered up at her, brows furrowed. Unbidden, the memory of the first time she asked him the same question floated to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t help the breath of amusement. The question caught him off guard, but this time, when he found his voice it was resolute, quick, and sure.

Yes.

He felt a pinky hook around his, and the now-familiar warmth bubbled in his chest.

“Good, because it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This time, the tears her fingers caught were those of appreciation and relief.

-*-*-*-

And then, the sun set, and prison happened.

-*-*-*-

At first, it was easy to ignore.

Prison changed him. He knew it did, and he knew that she wasn’t naïve to the fact either. He was a bit harder, a bit more defensive, and while he tried his best not to show it, he knew she could see the darkness had just a little bit more of an edge. He was well aware of how she watched him just a bit more closely.

It seemed alright at first. It took a while for him to adjust; there were certainly bumps and bruises along the way, along with some admittedly choice words exchanged in frustration, but that was expected.

But he supposed it was the small things, and small things add up.

The first week her hand naturally slipped into his like nothing’d changed, but his grip was tighter and more desperate than normal, like she’d disappear or slip through his fingers if he didn’t. At the same time, he was also too terrified to touch her otherwise, as if she’d break like glass if his grip on her waist was just a bit too tight.

She never commented, gave him space, and allowed him to initiate physical contact.

She didn’t need to know, he rationalized, it wasn’t her burden to bear.

Then he began to hold her at arm’s length. She pushed, gently, and he pushed back, harder. He knew she was only trying to help, but he needed to figure it out for himself, lest he hurt her again. She only sighed, and relented. While her concern was apparent with how she watched him with just a little more unease, she gave him space.

However, while she was an exceptionally patient person, there was only so much distance and space one could handle. When she reached out, worried, and pressed just a little harder, he withdrew completely, and his rationalization slowly evolved. Stop hovering. Don’t need you treating me like I’m broken. Don’t need your pity.He ignored the pain that flashed in her eyes, the quiet desperation in her voice whenever she called after him after he refused to listen, and the increasingly familiar ache in his entire body when he began to avoid and refuse her touch.

It was the small things, because when the nightmares started, it wasn’t so easy to ignore.

-*-*-*-

“—eathe, Spencer. That’s good, breathe.”

The mumbled affirmations continued as he slowly processed his surroundings.

Queen-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. Breathe in. Goose-feather down pillows. A firmer memory foam pillow that smelled of her shampoo. Breathe out.

Safety.

He was still bleary-eyed when he sunk back down, burying half his face in the pillows and ashamed as he mumbled a quiet apology. Her voice was kind, understanding, telling him it was alright as she tucked a stray lock of curls away from his face. When he seemed to settle back down, her hand gentle rested on his jaw, thumb absently tracing his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No.”

She frowned, sighed, took a moment to flick on the lamp light and collect her thoughts; he could see, through his lashes, the gears turning in her head about how to proceed. Meanwhile, he heaved a sighed, and sat up against the headboard. His eyes closed, doing the same as her. She then reached out, touched his hand, grazed her thumb over his knuckles and drew circles on the back. It started slow, hesitant—she was surprised that he didn’t recoil, and frankly, so was he—but the motion was familiar, grounding, so he let her continue. He knew it helped her focus as well.

“Spence, you’re…you need to talk to someone—it doesn’t have to be me! But bottling it up all inside, it’s clearly tearing you apart.”

“I agreed to start talking with my therapist, haven’t I?”

His voice was flat, defensive.

“But you haven’t, and…knowing you, you won’t be telling them the whole truth.” His jaw tightened and his lips pursed, his hand gripping the sheets flexed, and he looked away from her, intently staring at a random point in the room that wasn’t her. As always, she seemed to know him far too well.

She let out a breath of a sigh; she knew he was beginning to shut her out again. Her free hand lifted to his shoulder, rested in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve told you before, that you’ve started to shut people out. I know–I know you’re so, so strong, but you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders; we’re not as fragile as you seem to think we are.” She paused, contemplating. “If you need someone with distance that you can trust, call Derek, call Hotch, even, but remember, Spence, I made you a promise: I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

When he didn’t answer, still staring off into the mid-distance, she sighed.

“I’ll leave, give you some space. Think about it.”

She was at the bedroom door when he finally cleared his throat and responded. His voice was bitter as he bit out: “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A quiet ‘wha–’slipped from her lips as she angled toward him as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“If you want to leave, fine. You seem to be doing that quite well recently. The door’s right there and you don’t have to come back until you want to make me a charity case again. But if you want me to talk, if you think you can handle it, then be my guest. Take a seat and why don’t you make me?”

He instantly regretted the words, but some dark part of his mind as pleased that he could see the anger and annoyance spark through her as she inhaled deeply and slowly turn around to face him in full. “I will if that’s what it will take.”

Spencer’s gaze hardened.

“You don’t have the fucking guts.”

A brief moment passed as she took him in full, eyes flashing. Spencer raised his gaze, challenging, daring her, and then, the same, shadowed part of his mind was savagely happy that he had finally gotten a rise out of her, because she bit back with venom.

“Fucking try me.”

And then, he watched her warily as she visibly froze, then deflate, her jaw tightening and eyes welling with unshed tears as she stumbled backward to the door.

“But–but not like this. Not like this. I’m–I’m so sorry you didn’t–you don’t deserve…” Her voice was quiet, but it was hitched with a swirl of emotions Spencer couldn’t pinpoint, and he was suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m going–I’m going to go…” He heard the doorknob turn, and suddenly the sound of gunshots rang in his ears, and he could the taste the metallic bitterness as blood and dead brown eyes filled his vision.

Wait. Wai- She was halfway out the door when he called out, voice cracking, and through blurred tears he saw her shut the door and shuffled and stumbled back into the room toward him, kneeling in front of him. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the whispers of his name and the urgency of the apologies. And then his eyes fluttered closed when she reached up to brush the tears away, and the motion opened the floodgates. It was one of the many little touches they shared—thumbs wiping over cheeks and hands cupping faces—and he had half a mind to shove her aside, but dear God he hadn’t felt it in far too long; he leaned, almost desperately, into her touch and he could hear her sniffling back her own tears.

Fuck.

He was always like this.

His passive aggressiveness was his defense mechanism; he lashed out blindly whenever he felt vulnerable, not caring who he hurt and how much. It was something she had been helping him work through, and he thought he was getting better, but here he was, hurting her because of it again.

Not like this.

He barely noticed that she had pulled him into a tender hug, but now that he did process the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he wanted to push it away. He didn’t – he didn’t deserve this but now she was pulling back, and it sent a brief course of panic through his body, a fear that she was pulling away, away from him, away from the darkness and shadows that loomed permanently over him. He wouldn’t blame her, but–but…oh.

Her eyes always spoke volumes for her, and now that she had firmly tilted his chin up, her gaze firm, resolved.

“I know you are feeling vulnerable, and I know that you believe you can do this on your own.” She breathed in deeply. In turn he gazed up at her through his tears, as evenly as he could, and she met it without wavering. “You are strong, Spencer Reid, so, so strong, been so for so long. But…but I made a promise that I would always be by your side, and I’m never going to break it. So please.” Her voice hitched, and his breath caught in his throat. “Please, trust in me, one more time. Just one more time.”

Moments ticked by to the time of his heartbeat before he finally nodded, and the relief and the elation in her eyes soothed the dull pain inside his heart. This time, he drew her into his arms and into his lap and sighed as he leaned into the crook of her neck.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

-*-*-*-

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—Maya Angelou

-*-*-*-

#spenciebabiesficcontest #joy's writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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ediths · 4 years

Text

Not Every Show Is Perfect - a tvfbsotm extra

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Harry messes up live for the first time in what seems like forever and he gets all broken up about it. Thankfully, you’re there to help him realize that one mistake doesn’t mean he’s horrible.

Warning(s): Sign of the Times (yes, the song. and yes, i think it deserves a warning), cursing, Harry being hard on himself, tears, fluffiness, not edited (sorry, i didn’t want to bother anyone!!)

A/N: This is yet another extra to The View From Both Sides of the Mirror that nobody asked for!!! (if you haven’t read that, you can read it here). This is the second extra that I have written for them!!! There will be two more (at least) <33

Masterlist | Taglist | Request Something - Guidelines | Come Talk To Me

It had been years since he had messed up on that song. He knew it like the back of his hand. He had poured his heart and his soul into writing it and then perfecting it for live performances. He knew exactly how to hit every single note. He knew how to hit the high notes without his voice cracking and he knew how to hit the lowest notes without it sounding strained He had practiced for hours on end - sometimes to the point where his throat was raw and his voice was scratchy -to make it sound beautiful every time that he sang it live.

You know this for a fact. Even though you weren’t close during Harry Styles: Live On Tour, he had complained about how he could never get ‘Sign Of The Times’ right. About how he felt like he wasn’t doing his best and that he would disappoint because he just couldn’t hit those pesky high notes on stage. You heard the way that his voice would go scratchy, how he would sound like he was fighting to swallow correctly, how he sounded like he was severely dehydrated even if he drank bottle after bottle of water.

It had been over three years since he had last performed it on tour, and you had to admit, you were worried that he would mess something up. Not because you didn’t think he could do it, you know that he can. You know that he’s perfectly capable of getting everything right every single time. It’s more so because you know if he messes this up, he’ll make himself feel awful for the rest of the show. And what’s not helping his case is the fact that he’s stressed out about the mere thought of not hitting the right notes.

Here he was, the first show of the tour. He looked ethereal on stage. The lights were shining from behind him and making him look purely angelic. There’s already sweat soaking his hair and dripping onto his forehead. You can’t help but admire him like this, when he looks like he has absolutely nothing to hide, like he’s having the time of his life.

This show is also the first one that he would be singing the song at, and you could tell from the very first high note he tried to hit that he would be down on himself after the show. You feel your heart sink to your stomach, hating the fact that there’s nothing that you can do to help him get through this song without there being any mishaps.

The first time that his voice cracks, you visibly grimace, knowing what’s going on in his head. Knowing the self degrading thoughts that are whirling through his brain at a million miles per hour.

Your thoughts were only confirmed when he looked over at you. You can already see the self loathing overtaking his features, the way that his face isn’t as bright anymore.

You know that he’s calling himself everything he can think of. That he’s fighting the urge to stop, to give up and call off the whole thing. You know that he’s being more malicious to himself in this moment than he ever has been to anyone else. You’ve heard the things that he tells himself aloud as he’s getting undone from the show in the dressing room enough times to know exactly what he’s thinking.

“How did I mess something so simple up that bad?”

“I shouldn’t even be performing.”

“This is going to ruin the show. All these people are going to have a horrible night and it’s all my fault.”

“I’m so fucking pathetic.”

“Nobody’s here to see me fuck it all up.”

“Can’t I do anything right?”

You want to run on the stage, to hug him and let him know that every thought he’s having is incorrect. You want to reassure him, tell him that he’s perfect, that one wrong note doesn’t mean that he’s awful. Everything in you wants to take him away from this moment, to get his mind off of it. There’s no way for you to do that, though, and the both of you know that.

You also know that the reason he’s not looking at you nearly as much as he normally does is because each time he does, it makes it harder to stay on that stage when he could be in the comfort and safety of your arms.

After the song’s over, he looks over at you again and gives you a small, sad smile. You know that he’s hurting inside, that he’s beating himself up. Unfortunately for the both of you, he had just started the concert less than two hours ago. He’d be there for at least two more.

The moment the encore is over, he’s rushing off the stage and flinging himself in your arms.

“Hey baby.” You greet him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You run your hands through his sweaty hair.

“Need you love.” He brokenly whimpers. You instinctively hold him closer. A few people come over to congratulate him about the show, but they can tell by the state that he’s in that he’s not really up to talking much.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” If you thought your heart was hurt due to this before, it was shattered now, ripped into a million little pieces by the tears that begin to fall onto your skin. “Come on, let’s go to our room. Is that alright, darling?”

He pulls back enough to wipe his eyes and say a vague goodbye and thank you to the crew. The moment that the two of you are in the elevator, however, he’s right back in your arms. He clearly needs to be held right now, and there’s nothing that you’d rather do than comfort him.

Before long, the lift comes to a halt and the doors slide open.

You pull away slightly but still keep his hand in yours. You lead him to the hotel room and swipe the keycard. The moment that you’re inside the room, he lets out a broken sob that you know he’s probably been holding for the duration of the show.

You immediately pull him into your arms and let his weight fall into you. Slowly, as to not disturb him too much, you back up to the bed so that you can lay with him and properly give him the cuddles that he needs.

Once the back of your knees hit the mattress, you let yourself fall back. You’re still holding onto him, so he comes toppling down on you, but you don’t mind. You both shuffle slightly to get comfortable, and you think that his sobs are getting a little quieter. You’re proven wrong, however, when he buries his head into your neck again and fresh tears wet your skin.

You run one hand through his hair while the other rubs circles into his back. “Shh, it’s okay baby. Let it all out.”

He takes a deep breath and you can hear the shake that finds its way into the sound. You grip him tighter and try to make him feel as safe as he possibly can.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You mumble as you press a kiss to his head.

“I’m so pathetic.” He cries, and your heart breaks again.

“No you’re not, H. You’re not even close to pathetic.” You try to soothe him, although you know that there’s no way just that fixed anything

“Y/N, it’s the simplest song. I’ve had that song for years and I still mess it up? That’s pretty pathetic.” he struggles to get the words out but you know exactly what he’s saying. It’s the same thing that he’s been convincing himself to think every time that he so much as messes up a single note in ‘Sign Of The Times’.

“Harry, listen to me.” You pause and wait for him to lift his head and meet your eyes. Once he does, you continue. “It’s not your easiest song. It’s one of your hardest. Please realize that anyone would mess up that song. You did amazing.” You continue to run your hand through his hair and he leans further into your touch. “You’re amazing. Please remember that baby.”

“I’ll try. It’s just hard sometimes.” He mumbles.

“I know. I just want you to be happier with yourself.” You move your hand so that it’s cupping his cheek and begin to run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry.” He pulls away slightly.

You grab onto him to keep him from moving any further. “Hey, why are you apologizing?”

He shrugs. “Feel like I let you down.”

“Baby, you didn’t let me down. I’m so proud of you!” You pull him back into you and he falls into your arms.

“Promise?”

You smile. “Promise.”

Thank you so much for reading!! Remember to reblog to share with others!!

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#Zoey Writes #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #Harry Styles #The View From Both Sides of the Mirror #2020 #i wanna love queue with the lights on

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farfromharry · 3 years

Text

The one with Washington | Peter’s girl

Summary: You head to Washington with your team for the academic decathlon, however it takes a turn at the Washington monument

Word Count - 3246

Warnings - language probably, i can’t remember anything else

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

You were looking forward to the trip with your peers to Washington. Granted it was for academics but you’d never been to Washington and you were excited to share that experience with your friends.

“Do you really have to go on a mission right now Pete?”

His eyes widened, the male shushing you urgently, turning more heads towards you than your actual comment. He looked around the bus nervously, hoping no one had managed to hear what you said.

“Keep it down.”

You were slightly regretting letting Peter sit with you for the bus ride. You were originally going to sit on your own to do some last minute practice by yourself, but having sat close to the back of the bus where no one else was you managed to attract Peter, who needed to answer a call from Happy, and now here you were.

“I have to catch these guys Y/N, they’re dangerous,” he explained. You sighed, growing concerned again for Peter’s safety, something you felt like you were having to do far too often nowadays.

“That’s the point Pete, what if-“ He cut you off before you could say the words he’d heard you say too many times by this point.

“I have super healing Y/N, it doesn’t matter.” He had to cover your mouth with his hand when he saw you go to speak up, sending you a stern glare. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

You rolled your eyes, slouching against your seat as you gave up trying to convince him otherwise, he was surprisingly stubborn for a boy that got nervous at everything.

Once he knew you weren’t going to jump in again, he removed his hand from your mouth, setting it back down in his lap.

“You’re going to make it to the competition though, right?” you asked. Peter expected you to have at least a little more faith in him.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah of course, stop worrying so much.” You flashed him a forced smile, asking him to go over some practice questions with you for the rest of the ride.

Upon arriving at the hotel you obviously chose to share a room with Mj, getting the go from your teacher to head up there to put your stuff away.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap,” she said, already climbing under the covers of one of the twin beds. You nodded your head, wishing her a goodnight. In order to not disturb her you decided to head out to Ned and Peter’s room which was just down the hall and say goodbye to Peter before he left for his solo mission.

You knocked on the door, a nervous looking Peter pulling it ajar to see who was there. As soon as he saw it was you he let out a sigh, telling Ned he could bring his computer back out.

“What are you doing?” you asked, taking a seat on the opposite bed where there wasn’t some kind of weird, glowy rock.

“Mr Stark put-“ Peter shot his best friend a glare, telling him to stop talking. You eyed the two curiously, tilting your head.

“Mr Stark what?”

“Nothing,” Peter said quickly, brushing it off nervously.

You raised your eyebrows at Ned, knowing he was most likely to crack first out of the two boys.

“Mr Stark put a training wheels protocol on Peter’s suit,” he blurted out. Peter went wide eyed, slapping his friend’s arm while you started to laugh. You didn’t even acknowledge the glare he was sending your way.

“Awe Peter, he thinks you’re a baby.”

He ignored both of you as you made comments making fun of him, focusing on taking the tracker out of his suit. Your laughter eventually died down and you laid back on the bed to get more comfortable. You asked a few questions here and there about what they were doing, about the scary rock that you learned was something to do with aliens, not that that information made it any less scary, and eventually you ran out of stuff to ask them.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that you’d been there a few hours already, and Mj should probably be awake from her nap by now.

“Well,” you announced, standing up from where you’d been laying down. “I’m gonna go see what Mjs doing,” you said.

You wrapped your arms around Peter’s shoulder from behind and squeezed him tightly, the position slightly awkward seeing as he was still laying down. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times but-“

He grinned, cutting you off. “Be careful, I know.”

You flicked your index finger against the back of his head, scolding him for finding your concern for his safety funny.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, be back in time Parker.” He fake saluted you, making you giggle as you left the room. “Yes ma’am.”

“Bye Ned.”

You headed back to your own room where you suspected Mj was probably reading her book in bed, if she was awake. You entered the room with a small smile, noticing she was up and rummaging through her bag for something.

“Are you okay?” you asked. She startled, pressing her hand to her chest. She glared at you while you giggled at how easy she was to scare.

“Liz came and asked if we wanted to go swimming,” she explained. You nodded your head happily, moving over to your own bag to find the one-piece you’d packed for this occasion.

When you and Mj ran into Peter in the hall, in nothing but swimming costumes, you grew slightly nervous. Heck you were pretty much half naked in front of a boy, and that scared you to death, even if it was just Peter.

“Where are you guys going?”

“We’re going swimming, do you want to come?” You asked, trying to stop Mj tugging you to the pool for a second. You’d forgotten about the mission in complete honesty, you were just trying to be nice by inviting him. Peter gave you a look, silently reminding you that he was meant to be going on the mission now.

“I was just gonna go study a little, but thanks for the offer guys.” You nodded, turning back to Mj with a giggle as the two of you followed after your classmates. He watched you both go, a small smile gracing his lips seeing you both so happy.

When you got down to the pool you felt like a little girl heading to the beach, barely able to wait to get in. Mj however decided she was going to sit on the side, something that made you pout.

You swam to the edge of the pool she was at, resting your arms on the side to keep yourself afloat.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“Is Peter really going to study?” she asked. You hid your nerves with a small laugh, shrugging your shoulders at the curly haired girl.

“How would I know?”

“I saw the look he gave you,” she said, softly. To Mj it looked like you and Peter were hiding something. She noticed you’d gotten a lot closer these past few weeks and she was scared you were either secretly dating, or had developed feelings for eachother.

And if she thought Peter and Liz would hurt, you and Peter would be a whole nother level of heartbreak for her.

You sighed, splashing some of the pool water on her. “I don’t know where he’s going.” Lie. “But he’s not here, so let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

She seemed hesitant, but you were still her best friend and for all she knew she was just being dramatic.

“Yeah, okay.” She got up from the chair she was on, placing her folded towel down in her spot. You whistled at her as your eyes raked over her frame, throwing compliments her way that made her all flustered.

“We’re playing chicken, d’you wanna join?” Flash asked. Normally when Flash asked you to do anything you’d say no in a heartbeat, but right now it didn’t seem like the worst idea. You looked at Mj with a shrug, muttering a ‘why not’.

“Teammates?” you asked, holding your fist in place for a fistbump.

She grinned, hitting your knuckles together. “Teammates.”

»»——⍟——««

Everyone was more or less annoyed with Peter for missing the competition, especially with no reason or even text from him to tell you so, but you weren’t going to let that put a damper on your fun, nor was anyone else.

The group of you had planned to celebrate by taking a tour of the Washington monument.

You were currently trying to convince Mj to come up with you, but the girl was insisting that she was happy to read her book by herself down on the ground.

You just rolled your eyes, feeling bad for abandoning her and leaving her all on her own.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the scolding sun bearing down on you. She shook her head, telling you to go have fun. You left her there on the bench with her book and went and joined the rest of your team who were already heading inside the monument.

On the way up in the elevator you weren’t really listening to the woman, she didn’t sound too pleased or excited to be doing her job and it was rather hard to listen to, so you tuned her out and instead just looked around.

The last thing you expected was for the alien thingy in Ned’s pocket to spontaneously explode, a chorus of gasps filling the small space of the elevator.

“Ned, what’s happening?” you whisper-yelled, looking up at what looked like laser marks in the ceiling of the elevator.

“I-I don’t know.”

You wished you had stayed with Mj now, and she was on the ground thinking the exact same thing as she saw the explosion. When Spiderman ran past her she gasped, hearing his reassurances that he was going to save you all.

Your hand clinged to Ned’s jacket out of pure fear, a quiet squeal slipping past your lips when the elevator dropped again.

None of you knew how you were going to get out of this situation, despite what the woman had said, that elevator was most definitely not going to hold you all for long, so it was either find a way out or drop to the bottom of the monument, and it was a long way down.

Your heart stopped every time there was a slight movement in the metal cage, thinking that this was it, no way out but down. You were mentally scolding Peter for not being here, knowing if he was he might have been able to prevent this.

You watched as one by one people were hoisted out and put back onto the safe ground, and you could only wish that was currently you.

You and Ned both almost scoffed when Flash pushed his way to his turn, nudging Liz out of the way in the process, taking the now useless trophy with him. That was apparently the final straw for the elevator, the strings snapping like twigs as it began to plummet to the one place you didn’t want to be. You couldn’t hold Ned’s hand any tighter.

It eventually stopped with a rather harsh jolt, the four of you looking up and around in pure confusion.

“Are we dead?” Ned asked. You slapped his arm, shooting a scowl his way for the unnecessary comment.

“Don’t say that.”

You had never been so grateful to see the red and blue figure landing somewhere, even if it wasn’t the most graceful of landings, his back colliding with the solid floor. But nonetheless your heart started to beat again when you accepted the fact that Peter was here, and he was going to save you all.

“Okay, come on,” he instructed, using the fake accent so your teacher and Liz didn’t figure him out. In any other situation you might have found it amusing, but you were too on edge to even muster up a giggle.

Peter helped Ned out first, seeing as he was closest to the doors, with the help of the security guards that were working in the top of the monument.

You let Mr Harrington go next, because truthfully, just like Liz you were currently too scared to actually move. You were terrified that the floor beneath you was going to collapse any second, and you were thinking that Peter was too.

The male knew he wouldn’t be able to hold this for much longer. He could see the way his fabric covered feet were denting the metal and he was growing more and more panicked by the second.

When it was your turn to get out all you needed was a reassuring look from Peter. Just one that told you he wouldn’t let you fall.

He nervously shouted for you to hurry up, seeing that both you and Liz were still there all while he was losing his grip.

He reached out a gloved hand to help you get up the small gap to where Ned and one of the security guards were waiting for you, considering there wasn’t really anyone there inside the elevator who could give you a boost because the girl in there was basically frozen.

“Thank you,” you whispered, seeing Peter nod his head. The only person left in the elevator now was Liz, and you and Ned could both pretty much feel how nervous Peter was right now.

Not only was he saving her, but one wrong move could mean that was it, and he would never not blame himself if something happened to her.

Ned’s hand had found its way into yours for comfort, the two of you coaxing Liz to come forward and grab onto you both.

“Just a few more steps, you’re okay,” you muttered, stretching as much as you could.

You thought he’d done it, you thought he’d saved everyone. She stepped forward and reached for you but never seemed to make it to your hand properly. You felt her fingertips brush with yours for only a second before they were gone again.

Your eyes widened when the elevator dropped, Liz dropping with it. It was a tense few moments as she screamed, you and your other classmates watching in horror as she fell.

You all felt guilty, even though right now there was nothing you could do. Peter barely managed to catch her with one of his webs, and you could feel the relief radiating off of him even from where you were standing, knowing he had her and she was safe, and you knew that definitely calmed at least some part of him.

He tugged on the web until he was firmly holding her hand, guiding her to the ledge just past the elevator shaft.

You helped her back onto the ground, letting her wrap her arms around you out of fear. He looked in your direction, you and Ned flashing him a grateful smile.

Peter obviously had to get going if he was going to make it back to the hotel in time to not be suspected by anyone. So with a little nod that told him you would look after Liz, he was waving a goodbye and swinging his way out of there.

You rubbed the shaking girl’s back, whispering calming words to her to reassure her that she was okay now, all of you were okay thanks to Peter.

»»——⍟——««

Even on the bus home, hours later, Mj could tell you were still shaken up. Basically every one was. You insisted she sit with you this time, so she was now shuffling closer to you on your shared seat to wrap her arms around you tightly. You leaned your head on her shoulder, clinging to her arm with both of yours, sniffling quietly when she began to run her hand over your hair.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. You nodded your head, flickering your eyes up to hers with a soft smile. She saw right through that happy façade you put up, knowing that you were frightened.

She could tell you were running through all the different possibilities that would’ve happened if Spiderman hadn’t shown up, and all of them pretty much ended with you being dropped to the bottom of the high structure.

“Thank you.” She placed a friendly kiss on your forehead, letting you hold onto her as tightly as you needed to. She started a conversation with you to take your mind off it all, and as you laughed at her corny jokes you decided you truly were grateful that she was trying to help.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” she asked. You lifted your head up and nodded, taking the earbud she was holding out to you with a thank you.

You rested your head back on her shoulder as she picked a calming, but happy song to play on her playlist, the same playlist that you’d heard her use countless times when you were together.

Arriving back at Midtown was an amazing feeling for once in your life. You were off the bus almost faster than anyone, running to your mother’s arms where she cradled you against her.

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been so relieved to be holding her baby in her arms, safely. Your mother knew you better than anyone and she could feel the way your body shook as you clinged to her helplessly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, pressing multiple kisses to your temple.

“Me too.”

Your mother spent a few minutes talking to Mr Harrington about what happened on the trip, listening to his countless apologies about putting you in accidental danger.

You spotted Peter with his Aunt, a few metres away, preparing to leave, and you knew you couldn’t let him go without properly thanking him.

You quickly excused yourself and explained to your mother that you were just going to talk to the boy, before you had to weave your way through other parents and students to get to him.

He didn’t notice you at first, not until May nudged him and whispered his name.

He looked up in confusion, his features softening when he saw you standing there with tears brimming your eyes. He opened his arms for you, letting you initiate the hug.

“Thank you,” you cried, practically tackling Peter in a hug. His hand rubbed up and down your back, his other hand holding the back of your head as it tucked into his neck.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he cooed.

May smiled at the two of you, thinking the hug was just some kind of ‘thank god we’re alive’ sort of moment, not a ‘you’re the reason i’m alive’ situation.

“Mj sweetheart, are you ready to go?” She gave one last look to the way you were clinging to Peter, the way he held you and whispered in your ear.

“Yeah, we can go.”

You let go of Peter once your tears had come to a slow stop, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie. He shot you a comforting smile, squeezing your arm.

“Thank you again,” You took a leap of faith and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as a thank you, noticing the way he flushed red. “Spiderman.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

peter’s girl taglist → @sunsetholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @gog0juice @minejungwoo @creatorofthegalaxy @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @bvttercupbby @peterswebshooters @whoeveniskendall @itsallyscorner @hoodpankow @sunwardsss

#peter’s girl #tom holland #peter parker series #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker

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