#yeah after my last message- which was that my dad thought it sounded like a bunch of kids took too much lsd cause FL said the forest they | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 2 months

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𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: lying to rafe is never a good idea.

author's note: eeee! back to writing for my man <3 this can be seen as a sequel to suit the mood of my soul as it follows the plot a little bit but not really, as there's no direct mentions of pogue!reader in this! i just wanted to write a little about what rafe would be like if he find out you lied/what he would do... :) inspired by @princessbrunette for the dad/kid trope she writes about and this one!

now spinning: prisoner by the weeknd & lana

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: smut! rafe is a lil scary in this one but it's okay <3, gripping/bruising, face slapping as punishment, daddy/dad usage for rafe and reader is called kid a lot.

“So, what’d you do the other night?” Rafe asks you the question quietly, and he sounds different than usual.

You haven’t really noticed the change yet though, so you act like you always do around him—a little dumber, not as vigilant, and using your brain less overall.

That’s the best part of being with Rafe. He makes all the decisions for you, he figures out what to do and when to do it, and you really don’t have to think around him. At first you were confused, if not a little worried. Did he think you were stupid?

But then you realize this is how he is—so overpoweringly, overwhelmingly dominant that you have no choice but to succumb.

So you go on, unthinking, saying what comes to mind.

“I was with you, Rafey, did you forget already?” It comes out with a laugh, making yourself comfortable against his chest.

He’d just come over less than an hour ago, after dinner with his family, he had said. He always spent the night after doing anything with his family, because they made him angry and you made him feel better. At least, that’s what he always said.

So it’s easy to attribute his difference in demeanor, the strangeness surrounding your normally nice boyfriend, to a bad dinner with his family. He must have been more upset than you thought.

“Hm,” he says, slowly, curtly. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Rafey, dinner and the ice cream? Remember it melted all over your hand?” Your face flushes even thinking about it—because immediately following that incident, you had licked his hands clean.

“Yeah, I remember. You have a good memory, kid.”

You beam at his praise for a second, leaning your head up to stare at your pretty boyfriend for a second. But he doesn’t look down at you the way he normally does. He doesn’t look at all, instead his gaze is still fixed on the television, which is still playing one of your silly rom-coms quietly in the background.

“Rafe?” it comes out like a whisper, but he ignores you, his grip on your arm tightening while he continues to stare off, not at you.

“Try to remember something else for me, kid. Night before last, what’d you do?”

You freeze under his touch. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes wide, lips parting. You want to speak, but nothing comes out.

Then, Rafe looks down at you.

“Can’t remember now? Should I refresh your memory?”

You don’t need him to refresh anything. On the night before last, Sarah had asked you for help with something in the Tannyhill library. You had gone to help, because this was more than just Rafe’s sister, she was your friend too, but when you got there, you were confused. Sarah was there, but so were all the Pogues you had seen around town, seen with her before.

They were all digging through the shelves, looking for something in the library, and Sarah called you over because everyone in the Cameron house was aware of the fact that you knew this library like the back of your hand. Months of babysitting Wheezie and not having anything to do had led to this very situation. Until you became Rafe’s, that is, because ever since then, you haven’t had to spend another moment alone.

So then you helped them search for whatever it was they were looking for, and when your phone went off with a message from Rafe, at Sarah’s urging, you lied and said you were at home with your parents.

The Pogues found it eventually, after almost two hours of combing through shelves and trying your best to organize them the way they were. You went home, texted Rafe goodnight, and thought that was that.

It wasn’t a lie, you tried to convince yourself. It was a fib, really, because you just didn’t want him to worry even more when he had so much going on. And it’s not like you knew what Sarah was even up to, she said it was just a little project.

You didn’t realize what kind of project until now.

“Um, Rafe-” you start, really quiet.

You falter when you get a better look at the expression on his face. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that look—anger, disappointment, frustration.

Your eyes get watery, immediately. It’s just a natural reaction.

“You think some tears are gonna get you out of this?” he questions, and you feel your breathing getting heavy, your cheeks getting wet.

You shake your head quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re crying for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry-” comes out before you can stop it, and you try to use the sleeves of your hoodie—Rafe’s hoodie—to wipe the tears away, thinking it’ll be better if he can’t see them any longer, but he grabs your wrist before you can.

You’re pinned in place, his hand gripping you and holding you down, the weight of his body on yours. It’s all you can do to look up Rafe with your wide, wet eyes and hope he listens to you.

He’s never been mad at you before, so he doesn’t know how to react. You’ve always been perfect to him, for him, and he’s never had to do anything more than take your cheeks in his hand and lock eyes to make you realize you’re doing something wrong.

He didn’t think you could be capable of doing something to hurt him, to get in the way of everything he’s planning, not when you’re so compliant and docile and perfect all the other times.

You have a collection of pretty dresses and skirts, ranging in lengths and sizes, and you always wear the right thing. Modest, longer dresses that stop above your knee and start just under the necklace you never take off—the necklace with his initial on it—when you’re invited to dinner at Tannyhill with his family.

Shorter, small skirts when he takes you to the club or the bonfire. Short enough that people are staring, not short enough to give anyone a view of what belongs to him.

In his bedroom, it’s just his clothes—shirts to sleep in, hoodies when you’re reading a book on his bed while he finishes his game at the desk, nothing more than one of your tanks and a pair of his boxers when you’re getting antsy and horny waiting for him to get back to bed when he’s on an important phone call.

He’s never had to tell you any of that—you just do it, you just know it. He doesn’t have to tell you to go wait on his bed for him without complaining. He doesn’t have to tell you he doesn’t like when his friends are seeing parts of you they aren’t supposed to. But most important of all, he didn’t have to tell you to stay away from those dirty Pogues and his annoying sister. You were just supposed to know.

“You’re sorry?” he questions, and you know he’s mocking you. Rafe’s gone quiet, which you’re not used to because Rafe never gets mad at you. You didn’t even think it was possible.

He lets go of your wrist, which flails next to your side. His grip is replaced quickly as he squeezes your cheeks together, fingers pressing hard against your jaw.

“You’re sorry, really, is that all? You lied to me. You think that’s okay?”

Your breathing gets hard and fast under his touch. Your eyes get watery again, trying to say something but it’s silenced between Rafe’s fingers keeping your mouth shut.

You shake your head as hard as you can. You just want to explain yourself—it seemed so harmless when you were doing it. You didn’t want to worry him. You didn’t realize what you were doing. You’d never do it again if Rafe will forgive you.

Then you get scared, eyes wide and blank while your boyfriend stares at you, looking so upset and angry you wish you could reverse time and take it all bank. You worry that he won’t forgive you, that he’ll end things and leave you alone, and the thought itself is so frightening you start sobbing and shaking.

Rafe’s hand leaves your face because he gets surprised at your reaction—he thought you’d be telling him something he really, really doesn’t want to hear, but true to your perfect form, you say exactly what he does want to hear.

“I’m so sorry Rafe, I’m so sorry, they asked me for help but I would have never done it if-if I knew it would hurt you or make you upset, I-I didn’t know-” It all comes out in a ramble, hurt coating your words and tears streaming down in rivulets down your pretty face.

He’s worried he might have gone too far, scared you too much, but you jump back in his arms the second he’s let go of you, face pressed against his chest and his shirt getting wet.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t break up with me, I’ll never do it again, I’ll never even talk to them again, I swear, I promise-”

It’s instinctual, Rafe wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He wonders how he did this—changed the sweet, pretty girl he met on a trip with Wheezie to the library into the girl in his arms now—utterly dependent, crying because of him but not making a single move to defend yourself.

Instead you believe everything he says and you’re sobbing because you don’t want him to leave you. He wonders again, thinking about if he should regret what he’s done to you.

He doesn’t.

“Shh,” he comforts, and you lean into him further. “S’okay, it’s okay.” He rubs your arms soothingly, ignoring the red down further on the limb, which is inevitably a bruise forming. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

When the words leave his mouth, you melt against his chest like butter, and he grips you tight.

“I’m sorry, kid, I am, but I have to make sure that-that, you don’t do something that could mess up everything I’m working on right now.” You mewl a noise of protest, but he quiets you down again. “Even if it’s an accident, baby, even by accident. You don’t know the things I’m trying to protect you from. I can’t let you get hurt like that, so when you lie to me about something like this, it just upsets me, because I’m working hard for you—for us, and you see that, don’t you?”

He feels you nod your head slowly.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” and he lets out a heavy breath. You cling to his every word, wondering how you could have been so, so stupid, as to lie to your boyfriend.

“It’s okay, kid,” his hand moves to your back, rubbing circles on the soft skin, hand tucked under his hoodie and above the waistband of his shorts that you’re wearing.

“Do you forgive me?” you ask, lifting your head a few inches to look up at Rafe, wet eyelashes floating up to reveal red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

He looks down, wondering just how much he’s messed you up.

“Of course I do.” Rafe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a sigh of relief, too soon. “But you have to promise me a couple things, hm?”

“Anything, anything-” it spills out of your mouth, like you can’t get it out fast enough, looking back up at your boyfriend with big eyes, trying to use your hands against his chest to lift yourself up.

“Promise me you’ll never talk to those Pogues again.”

“I promise.”

“And that you’ll never, ever lie to me again.”

“I promise, Rafe.”

“Good girl.”

He does that thing again, the thing that has you melting in his hands and allowing him to call all the shots. He reaches out to take the back of your head in his hand, leaning you in for a kiss, and you let him do it, just like you let him do everything.

Rafe kisses you hard, his tongue in your mouth and trails of spit around your lips. When he lets go, you feel him bit down on your bottom lip, and you yelp against his mouth, but it’s silenced because he pulls you into another kiss.

You’re breathless by the end of it, crawling into his lap because you don’t want it to end, craving a lot more than just a kiss and the press of his hard dick against your clothed pussy.

When he pulls away, you make another noise of displeasure.

“Really?” he questions, and you know it can’t be good. “Do you really think you deserve this dick now? After that shit you just pulled?” He holds you in place on his lap, stopping your grinding motion with his firm hand. Your face heats up immediately, because you know that you don’t.

“‘M’sorry, dad,” your murmur against the soft skin of his neck. “You already forgave me…”

“Not getting out of this that easily, kid,” and he pulls you by the hair, making your shoulders tense up as you moan again in discomfort. “I think you need to decide your punishment, hm? You’ll get this dick once you get punished.”

You want to scream in annoyance, because Rafe always knows what he’s doing, and right now he’s doing it on purpose. You can feel his hard-on, and if he let you do what you wanted, you’d fall apart in minutes, but he won’t, because he never does.

So you don’t say a thing, because you can’t ever be a brat to Rafe, not for anything longer than five minutes, and you crawl down, off the bed, sitting on your knees on the ground while Rafe adjusts himself to face you from the bed. He looks down at you, perfectly in place, nose still a little red from crying.

“So, how many?” he questions, watching you stare up at him with big eyes.

“Five,” you start, until you see how Rafe’s looking at you. “T-ten, sorry, ten.”

“Good girl,” he says, stroking the side of your face with his hand. “Five on each side, hm? That’s what you meant to say, right?”

“Yes, dad,” you murmur back, in a daze at the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your skin.

The first slap, on your right cheek, is light, lighter than you’re used to. It was barely a tap, and you think quickly, while staring at your boyfriend’s face expectantly, if not a little dumbly, that it was nice of him. The next three are harder, and the final one stings. You’re sure it’s red where his hand was, a part of you even hopes it left a mark.

“Five left,” he says quietly, maybe more to himself than to you. You nod, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, kid, you like this? I knew you would. Little freak,” Rafe breathes out. You cling to each word like it’s praise. “Ready for the other side? Yeah?” You nod again.

He’s harder on the other side, maybe because he realized you can handle it. You’ve gotten much harder slaps than these before, but Rafe forgets sometimes, so he always starts gentle. On the ninth one, your eyes get watery. On the tenth, the tears roll down again. Rafe takes his thumb and wipes it across your cheek, like it’ll soothe the sting.

You go to unbuckle his belt immediately after, thinking you should make him feel good first, as a part of your punishment, but he stops your hands before you get far, taking you by the shoulders and lifting you up into his lap again.

“What’re you doing?” you question quietly.

“I should ask you that.”

“Y-you said I don’t deserve it yet, so I was gonna make you feel good-”

“I didn’t say that, kid,” he says, pressing his big hand against your neck.

“Yes, you-” he looks at you sharply, and you shut up mid-sentence.

“No, I said you’ll get it once you’ve been punished. Punishment’s over, hm?” His hand slips underneath your hoodie—his hoodie—and he starts to lift it up. Your hands go up, helping him ease it off. Once it’s discarded on the floor, you lean in for another hard kiss, hands around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist.

“Easy, easy,” he says, pulling away for a second. “Have to breathe, remember?”

You shake your head and whine, pushing your lips together again. Rafe moves you quickly, your back thudding against the bed and him hovering over you.

You scramble to get rid of your shorts—his shorts—but Rafe’s hands come up and stop yours before you can. Locking eyes with you, he takes them off himself, until you’re fully exposed and lying naked against his pillow.

Another kiss, another whine. You pull the front of Rafe’s shirt.

“Take it off, please,” you whimper, because you just want to get him naked and get on with it, but the tantalizingly slow pace he’s setting is killing you.

“Really gonna tell me what to do right now? When I’m being so nice?” Your head shakes but you don’t know if you mean it. “Okay. If that’s how you wanna be, okay.”

He flips you over in one motion—your stomach hitting the sheets before you can process it. You don’t hear anything except the rustle of his hands on his belt, the clink of the metal falling, and a groan from Rafe.

And then you feel him—feel what you’ve been begging for this entire time, the nudge of his tip against your folds. Your whole body tenses and your walls clench in anticipation, but Rafe doesn’t move.

“Rafe—!” the whine leaves before you can think about it. Rafe’s hand reaches out to grab you by your hair, pulling your head up, his mouth against your ear. You feel your nipples harden and pebble in the air, every part of your body craving something, some touch, some movement.

“Y’know, I thought you were gonna be such a good girl,” he starts, and you feel your walls flutter. “But you’re acting like such a slut today. But it’s okay, I’m gonna give you what you want. Then you’ll be good as gold, won’t ya?” You let a whine at the thought, before Rafe lets go and drops you back onto the bed.

In one thrust, Rafe pushes himself in, and your entire body tenses up at the feeling. The stretch of your walls hurts, no matter how used to him you get, and your bones feel like putty. You can hardly hold yourself up, when Rafe starts fucking you at the brutal pace he’s set.

The stinging of your face disappears from your mind completely while Rafe batters your pussy, his hands on your back, pushing down while you arch up. Your cheek rustles against the pillow. Nothing comes out of your mouth except whines and moans, and the occasional cry when he goes even harder.

“Just needed this dick, huh, kid?” he chokes out, pressing your face into the pillow and watching his dick slide in and out of your pussy—coated in your cream, leaking down and making a mess of his sheets. “Ain’t that right? I asked you a question.”

He grabs your hair again, lifting you just enough so you can speak.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes-”

“That’s what I thought-” and he pushes your head down again. “J’needed to be set straight, hm? You won’t ever lie to me again—” Your voice is a mess of garbles and whines, not making any sense but wanting to agree with Rafe so badly.

Rafe’s fucking you like he hates you, and you don’t have it in you to stop and make sure he doesn’t actually hate you, because the only thing you can think about is making sure he doesn’t stop.

“Or maybe you will,” he starts, in between thrusts. “Just wanna get fucked like this, don’t you? Wasn’t enough for you to get it gentle, right, kid? You’re my little slut-”

Rafe’s hitting that part of you that makes you see stars—unrelenting, over and over again, but it’s all of those things together—the feel of your nipples rubbing against the bed, how full you feel inside, and especially the words he’s saying—that push you over the edge. You fall apart crying, body shaking, letting out a muffled dad, dad, dad against his pillow.

He doesn’t stop there, though, riding you through it and then pulling out, just long enough to flip you back over.

You’re sensitive all over, your walls clenching around nothing while you stare up at Rafe, and then back down to where the two of you were connected. He grips your cheeks again, pushing himself in and staring at your fucked-out face.

He’s way too close to still be fucking you—especially raw, like this—but it’s not until you start speaking that it’s a big problem. You sound all jumbled up since he’s holding your face way too tight, and when he loosens his grip, words fall out of your mouth and he realizes what you’re saying.

“Want it inside, dad, please, please, please, fill me up—” And he finishes, leaning over you and filling your pussy up, just like you asked for. He doesn’t stop for what feels like hours but could only be minutes—you mewl at the feeling and gasp when he pulls out, cum leaking out of your hole and spoiling the sheets even further.

Rafe’s breathless, collapsing beside you and in a much better mood, because he doesn’t complain when you fall against his chest and press your face into his neck.

He lets you sit like that for a little bit, catching your breath and letting your heart rate return to normal.

“We made a mess,” you comment, still feeling gushes of his cum spilling out of you.

“We’ll get it in a minute.”

He can practically hear your thoughts, buzzing through your little head at a mile a minute, wondering what to say, how he feels, if he's still upset, probably wanting water and a shower too.

You move a little, just to get more comfortable, when Rafe grabs your face again. The side of your jaw is red from where he keeps grabbing you. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow. He doesn’t care because he’s not planning to let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

“Don’t lie to me again, kid. Got it?”

“Yes, Rafe,” you breathe out. "I got it."

“Good. Now let's finish this stupid movie." Rafe lets go of your face, and wraps his arm around you.

#eeeee #this was.... self indulgent. so no worries if no one else likes it #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #rafe cameron imagine

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waltermis · 5 months

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The Oscars

MASTERLIST ↠ SINGER!READER UNIVERSE

Summary: It’s time for the Oscars

Warnings: swearing, most likely inaccurate stuff about the Oscars… I tried to collect as much information as possible, but it is entirely likely that I messed the whole thing up.

Pairings: Scarlett Johansson x fem!reader (romantic), Scarlett x Lorelai Philips (platonic), Scarlett x Quinn Jones (platonic).

A/N: Happy birthday, Scarlett ❤️❤️

↠↠↠

Scarlett sighed nervously as she watched the people around her bustle and hustle in her hotel room, attempting to get her ready for the Oscars. She silently hoped that she would be nominated for at least one award but never voiced her thoughts out loud, not wanting to be disappointed if she didn’t get nominated. Looking around her busy room, she really wished that you could’ve been here.

You’ve been on tour for over a year now and the last time she was able to physically see and feel you in person was 7 months ago when you performed for 3 nights in Atlanta. She had a couple of reshoots for Black Widow there, and when you had told her that you would be having a concert there, she instantly bought tickets to see you perform. She bought tickets for all 3 nights, singing/screaming the words to the songs until her voice was raspy and on the verge of going away. She bought tickets for your brothers, your dad, and the rest of her family to go with her, to support you. She had so much fun watching you sing and dance; seeing you have fun with your dancers and backup singers on stage had her so mesmerized. And watching the way you interacted with your fans, she really understood why you loved them so much.

She gasped lightly, getting pulled away from her thoughts when her hairstylist accidentally tugged too hard on her hair. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Johansson.” Quinn apologized quickly.

“It’s okay,” she reassured. “And how long have you been my hairstylist?”

“6 years-ish, give or take,”

“And how many times have I told you to call me Scarlett?”

“Too many to count,” they said, sheepishly.

“Exactly, so are you going to start calling me Scarlett?”

“It’s very unlikely,” the two of them laughed at that. “Are you excited for tonight?” they asked.

“Yeah,” Scarlett replied, “I think it’ll be really fun,” she smiled while they added the finishing touches to her hair.

“And done.” they said, showing her hair in the mirror.

“I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now go get your dress on. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Lorelai’s head is gonna explode.”

Scarlett looked over at her manager, who was standing in the corner talking on her phone, and Quinn was right, Lorelai looked beyond stressed. “She looks like a headless chicken.” she said, grinning.

Quinn burst out laughing, which caught Lorelai’s attention. “Shit shit shit, go to the bedroom now!!” They pushed her off the makeup chair. She quickly ran into the bedroom and put on her dress. Looking at herself, she smiled softly. God did she wish that you were here right now.

She decided to pull out her phone and give you a call. The phone rang for a couple seconds before your voicemail came on. “Hi, this is Y/N; I am currently not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can.” Scarlett smiled at the sound of your bubbly voice.

Beeeeeep

“Hi baby, I was just calling because I missed you. I’m just about ready to leave for the awards tonight and I wanted to hear your voice. Call me back tonight when you’re free? I love you.” She hung up.

“Scarlett!! Are you ready?” Lorelai asked, a little panicked, knocking excessively on the door.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

In the car, Scarlett pulled out her phone and began to watch reels of you singing during your tour on Instagram. She honestly couldn’t be more proud of you, she knew you always wanted to be a singer, but that dream didn’t solidify until you first sang in the first Pitch Perfect movie. She saw how hard you worked for this, and knew that you deserved every single round of applause you got after each song you’d sing.

↠↠↠

Scarlett stepped out of her car, putting on a practiced smile for the cameras. She looked at the paparazzi and her fans who were screaming and crying out her name. She got her picture taken and was led to the section where interviews were taking place. She did a couple of them, she even had one with her co-star and friend, Florence Pugh.

Soon, Lorelai was ushering her off to the next part. Scarlett smiled as she greeted Cole Walliser; he was the one in charge of the GlamBOTs; the camera that moves extremely quickly but the footage taken is in slow motion. After he instructed her on what she should be doing, Scarlett did her iconic over the shoulder pose into the camera and smiled happily. The speed of the camera startled her for a moment, but she was quick to regain her bearings. She thanked him again, and then joined her manager in one of the more secluded areas as an usher led them into the building.

Scarlett smiled softly in thanks at the attendant who led her and Lorelai to their seats. Getting inside the building took quite a bit of time; with the amount of celebrities showing up in it was bound to get crazy. She sighed, gently wiping her hands on her dress. “You nervous?” Lorelai whispered quietly.

“Little bit,”

“Don’t be,”

“I kinda wish Y/N was here…”

“I know,”

“Not that I don’t love your company.” Scarlett amended quickly, “I just– I just miss her. I mean, I haven’t seen the woman in 7 months!”

“I know that too,”

“And I know that she’d be able to calm me down in a second if she were here. I know that she wouldn’t care if she won an award tonight, cause she’d think that all the other nominees deserved it better.”

“That sounds like Y/N,” Lorelai laughed. “Now before you can go into a spiral right now, do you think you’re gonna win tonight?”

“Maybe…? I mean there’s so many other people to consider before me,”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. I know you, and knowing you, I know you’ll get a nomination, I’m sure of it.”

Scarlett smiled a genuine smile at Lorelai, “Thank you,”. Lorelai winked at her, before the night began.

Scarlett smiled brightly as each nomination was announced. She had to admit, even if you weren’t here, she was having a nice time. Her heart had skipped a beat when she heard Taika Waitit’s name get called when ‘Jojo Rabbit’ won Best Adapted Screenplay. She quickly stood him and congratulated him, sharing a moment of joy before he went on stage. “He deserves this,” Lorelai said, watching as Taika started his speech.

“He really does, this was one of the best scripts I’ve ever read.”

“I know…. I saw the movie.”

Scarlett scrunched her eyebrows together. “Hey, do you know why you have an empty seat beside you?”

“I don’t know, maybe someone wasn’t able to show up?” Lorelai guessed.

“Probably, I wonder who couldn’t make it.”

↠↠↠

“How’re you feeling?” Lorelai asked, a little bit later. They were now watching the little clips put together for the award of Best Documentary Feature.

“The nerves are still there but I’m good.”

“Good,” Lorelai smirked, she had a strange look in her eyes as they began clapping as the winner was announced. Scarlett gave her a suspicious look but paid her no mind as she listened to the speeches.

Soon enough, Mahershala Ali came out to present the award for Best Supporting Actress. Scarlett held her breath, squeezing Lorelai’s hand lightly as her heart beat out of her chest.

Mahershala began his speech. “Most every actress and actor I know wants to build a lasting body of work choosing roles that do more than just speak to them personally, but with the hope of their performance will resonate with others. The five women nominated Best Supporting Actress have done just that.”

The short clips of multiple different movies began, starting with Laura Dern in Marriage Story. Then she saw herself as Rosie Betzler in ‘Jojo Rabbit’ play on the screen. She sighed happily, feeling exhilarated that she was nominated. She smiled even harder when she saw Florence was also nominated. “Here are the nominees for performance by an actress in the supporting role.” He paused, “Kathy Bates, Richard Jewell. Laura Dern, Marriage Story. Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit. Florence Pugh, Little Women. Margot Robbie, Bombshell.”

“And, the Oscar goes to……. Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit.” Everyone in the crowd cheered as Scarlett stayed frozen in her seat. It wasn’t until Lorelai nudged her lightly did she realize that she had really won. Hugging a couple of friends quickly, Scarlett headed up onto the stage, smiling bashfully as everyone continued to clap. “Congratulations,” Mahershala said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking the award as he handed it to her. She walked up to the microphone set up in the middle of the stage, standing in front of everyone beaming proudly when the crowd began to clap even harder.

Suddenly, Scarlett felt two arms wrap around her waist from behind. She spun around quickly, alarmed. She was fully prepared to scream out when she stared into a pair of eyes she’s longed to see in person for the past 7 months. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her words barely audible. Scarlett let go of her award as she wrapped her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. With your quick reflexes, you manage to catch the award before it hits the ground and you hand it off to Lorelai who was waiting to receive it at the bottom of the stage.

You returned Scarlett’s hug just as tightly, cupping your right hand over her neck and wrapping your other arm around her waist, pulling her into you. “Hi baby,” you whispered into her hair, kissing her temple. You closed your eyes for a moment, cherishing the feeling of her finally being in your arms again. You didn’t realize how much you really missed her until just now.

You felt her body shake and gently you removed her from your body, keeping her at a nice distance. Scarlett had tears streaming down her face as she reached for you. “No,” she whimpered, her hands coming up to clench at your clothes. “Too far,” she clarified, tugging you closer still.

“Okay, I won’t go too far, but why’re you crying?” you asked, gently turning her body so her back faced the stage. Delicately, you brushed away her tears while you tried not to ruin her makeup. Thank god for waterproof makeup.

“I just missed you so fucking much,”

“I missed you too,” you kissed her head again, relishing the fact that she was with you for real and that it wasn’t a sick dream.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were still in Rome!”

“I was… but I thought I’d stop by before my next show in a couple of days.” you replied, smiling warmly at her.

“What’re you wearing?” Scarlett asked, once she’s got a good look at you.

“What? You don’t like it? I think I’m dressed very nicely for the Oscars,” you teased, tugging at your hoodie and sweatpants, and then scrunching your face up, showing your face without any makeup.

“I think you look great.”

“I know… I was supposed to be at the house before you came here to actually be there for you but my flight got delayed because of the weather,”

Scarlett gasped, “That’s why you didn’t take my call!”

“Didn’t see it, had my phone on airplane mode. Anyways by the time I landed, the event had already started. And when I actually got here, they were presenting your award. I didn’t have time to change, if you can’t tell.”

“You look beautiful,” she said. “And I love you very much,” she murmured into your neck as she buried herself back into you. “And I appreciate you being here for me,”

“I love you too,” you mumbled. “Now, I think there’s an entire room full of celebrities waiting for your speech.” you quickly pulled away, making sure that you didn’t smear any of her makeup. Hastily, you reassured Scarlett that you would still be there when she was done with her speech but she wasn’t convinced. Instead, she clasped your hands together behind her as Lorelai handed her back her Oscar and headed back to her seat.

What the two of you didn’t realize was that during your reunion, the microphone had picked up everything you’ve both said and there wasn't a dry eye in the audience. Anyone who knew you and Scarlett knew that you were perfect for each other. And anyone who’s heard of you knew that you were the power couple that dominated every industry. You were the ‘it’ couple. One of the only couples the world knew that clicked as well as the two of you did.

You stood behind her, beaming with pride as Scarlett started her speech, her hand still grasped tightly in yours behind her back. “I’m so sorry about that, um, I haven’t seen her in 7 months and yeah,” she chuckled lightly, “I just wanted to thank everybody who got me here. I want to thank…” the rest of her speech faded away from your ears as you admired your girlfriend. You knew without a doubt that this would be the person that you’d spend the rest of your life with. “I also want to thank my partner in crime, Y/N,” you snapped back to reality at the sound of your name. “Without you, then none of this would’ve been possible, you helped me remember my lines and perfect my German accent, which was not easy, by the way, and yet, you never wavered. You never doubted for a second that I couldn’t do this, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. I love you more than words can ever express.” You smiled, kissing her cheek before you led Scarlett down the stairs to get her name engraved into her award. You stood beside her the entire time, holding her hand tightly, squeezing it periodically to reassure her that you were still there. And then again, when she went to get her picture taken. The media had a field day at the sight of you with Scarlett, dressed in old baggy clothes. However, you didn’t care at all. The only thing important to you was Scarlett.

The only time you let go of her hand was when an attendant needed her to return to her seat. You smiled at her comfortingly, “I’ll be back in a bit, love. I need to change into more appropriate clothes for tonight. I’ll meet you back at the seats.” Scarlett nodded before walking away, finally understanding the empty seat next to Lorelai when she saw she had moved down one spot.

“You sly bitch,” Scarlett whispered to her. Lorelai simply smiled before turning back to Cinematography clips.

Soon, Scarlett grew restless wondering where you were. As if you knew about her worries, you immediately appeared beside her, taking a seat next to her, dressed up like everyone else. You were wearing a black mermaid dress with no straps and shimmers decorated the fabric of the dress. Your hair was released from its messy bun and lay to rest on your shoulders. Your makeup around your eyes was dark but simple, just a bit more eyeliner on your waterline.

Scarlett’s incessant staring started to make you nervous and self conscious. “What? Do I look weird?”

“How is it possible that in only a couple minutes you can look so gorgeous while it takes me hours to look like this.” she gestured at herself.

“You look absolutely amazing,”

“You really think so?”

“Definitely,”

“Even if I probably had snot and tears running down my face earlier?”

“To me, you looked like an angel.”

↠↠↠

Everyone began clapping again as Rami Malik walked up onto the stage. “It is truly an honor and privilege to be here celebrating the transformative performances as displayed by these five nominees; they're powerful, profound, and indelibly etched in our history and in our hearts.” You smiled excitedly at Scarlett when you saw her picture from Marriage Story show up on the big screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw your performance for ‘Palm Springs’ appear on stage. “Here are the nominees for performance by an actress in a leading role. Cynthia Erivo, Harriet. Scarlett Johansson, Marriage Story.” You cheered loudly. “Saoirse Ronan, Little Women. Charlize Theron, Bombshell. Y/N L/N, Palm Springs.” This time, it was Scarlett who was cheering loudly for you, as you smiled shyly.

“And the Oscar goes to…… Y/N L/N.” Standing up, you had tears in your eyes as you gave everyone a hug. Scarlett gave you a quick kiss before you walked up onto the stage. “Congratulations,” Rami said, when he hugged you.

“Thank you,” you smiled as he handed you your award. Walking up to the microphone, you looked out into the crowd.

“I don’t know if any of you saw it earlier but I literally just arrived…” you laughed lightly, “Um wow… I did not know that I would be winning an Oscar tonight, or else I would’ve been more prepared. Truth be told, I was only really here to support my girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson. I had no idea that I would be winning something too. So, I’ll make this quick, I just want to thank Max Barbakow who even gave me the chance to audition for the part of Sarah. I also want to thank the amazing cast and crew, without you here then there wouldn’t be a movie to make and I am so grateful for all of you. And finally, I want to thank my incredible girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson. If it weren’t for you then I would’ve never even thought about taking this role. You have guided me and supported me through this entire project and I can’t thank you enough. I love you so much more than you’ll ever know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about 7 hours left here before I have to fly off to the next destination on my tour. Congrats to all the nominees and the winners tonight!”

Speedily, you walked across the stage and out the back to get your name engraved. You stopped for a couple pictures before you returned back inside. You came back in just as they announced the last winner for Best Motion Picture. The event soon came to a close.

You grinned along with Scarlett as everyone around you congratulated the two of you. Florence even came to tackle you into a hug. After arranging a date to hang out together again, you and Scarlett headed through the back where Lorelai and her driver were already waiting for you inside the car.

You opened the door for her, letting her in first. On the way back to the hotel, the two of you were sitting as close as you could with your seatbelts on. Your arm over Scarlett’s shoulder while she kept her face buried in your neck, trying to memorize your smell. The two of you spent the rest of the night talking about nothing and everything.

THE END

↠↠↠

3292 words

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #the oscars #singer!reader universe #singer!reader #scarlett x reader #avengers #marvel #mcu #marriage story #jojo rabbit #rosie betzler #Nicole barber

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hangmanssunnies · 2 years

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I Would Walk 10,000 Miles To You

Summary: The first thing you notice about Jake "Hangman" Seresin when he rings your doorbell at 1:30 in the morning is that no matter the time of day, he is devastatingly handsome. The second thing you notice is that he is absolutely smashed drunk. You know your hands will be full dealing with your brother's friend tonight. Well, you suppose he might be your friend too.

Pairings: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: Falling in love with Brother's Best Friend (kinda), strangers to friends to lovers, pinning, Deployment, love confessions, Praise kink (if you squint), light angst, happy ending, Slight AirForce slander, drinking.

A/N: No use of Y/N this time. The readers' brother is also a pilot, call sign FreightTrain. I've been fiddling with this for a while, but I finally just decided to post it. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts and tags are always appreciated as well! I love reading through them.

You and Jake had become unlikely friends. Jake was one of your brother's college friends, having graduated from the Naval Academy the same year and then continuing to flight school together. You had met him once or twice over the years back then. You had always thought he was attractive, but you were just his friend's little sister. So, you never put much thought into him outside the occasional brief times your paths would overlap.

Then a few years later, when talking to your brother on the phone, you found out that Jake was on deployment, having a rough go of things. His dad couldn't be bothered or couldn't figure out how to send Jake any care packages, and his mom hadn't been in the picture for a long time, according to your brother.

Less than a week later, you had a care package on the way to him. You filled it with some generic snacks and items that your family had asked for over the years on their own deployments. You also sent a card with well wishes and signed it from your whole family.

At the last minute at the post office, you had thrown in a note to him asking that if he had any specific requests for items to please let you know, and then attached your phone number.

The thank you text message you received a few weeks later when he got the package was short, genuine, and sweet. You hadn't thought much more about it or him after that. Your goal had been accomplished of helping out your brother's friend and a serviceman.

Then a month or so later, you received a text from Jake again. It had been extremely tentative. He asked if you could send some specific sunscreen he liked, which didn't irritate his skin and a few other products. He also included that he would pay you for it and emphasized that if it was in any way an inconvenience, you didn't have to. Repeating at least twice to feel no obligation to fulfill the request.

What were you going to do, though? Leave this man alone without necessities that worked for him? Absolutely not. So you put together another care package with things he liked and started a new note on your phone titled Hangman's likes.

This time you signed the ‘thinking of you’ card from yourself. Hangman thanked you again once he got the package, asking to PayPal you the money, but you refused. Jake didn't like that, and it led to you having a playful argument. It was the first time he had actually called you on a deployment. You had answered the call, unsure, having forgotten what his voice had even sounded like after the years since you had a conversation with the man. Those long past meetings had been minimal interactions to start with.

"Hello?" You asked hesitantly, not sure the call wasn't a butt dial.

"Hello there. How are you?" His voice was quiet and deeper than you had remembered it. There was a slight crackle to the line, something not uncommon over long-distance wifi calls like this.

"Hi, Hangman. I am well. How are you doing? Holding up, I hope?"

"Yeah, I'm doing okay over here. A lot better now that you sent me all the good stuff."

"Well, my family and I want to help support you in any way we can. I promise it's not an inconvenience at all. I understand how hard it is what you're going through." You trailed off, not entirely sure what else to say.

"I really appreciate it, but I know how much everything costs. So, you need to let me pay you back." His voice was still kind but had a stern undertone like he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Absolutely not."

"I will get info from your brother," he all but growled the threat.

"I will tell him to not give it to you," You quickly reply. He huffed in frustration hearing that made you laugh.

"That's not very fair," Jake complained to you.

"Sorry, I'm not big on fairness when someone needs something," you told him kindly. You ended up talking for fifteen more minutes, asking about other things he might like in a care package, with him trying to evade your questions.

You told him you had to go, and he thanked you once again for being willing to support and help him out. He also threatened that he would find a way to pay you back once again. You found it hard to stop grinning after the conversation.

Knowing products only last so long, you set up a regular schedule to send Jake some items. Like clockwork, you would get thank you calls from him and harassment on how he could pay you back. Jake would also ask about your life, seeming genuinely interested. The conversations started to vary the more you talked. Your cards in each of his care packages became more personalized, beginning to fill with inside jokes.

At the end of that deployment, you felt an odd mixture of sadness and happiness. Of course, you were glad Jake would be back stateside and on regular duty, but it also seemed like the most obvious natural conclusion of this odd friendship that had developed.

For Jake's last care package, you filled it with stuff that would be most useful for traveling back to the United States. It was also the first care package you hadn't gotten a thank you call for since the initial one.

Hangman minding his manners, had at least sent you an appreciative text. It felt like a nail in a coffin moment. You had to fight off an abysmal mood for the rest of the week, reminding yourself that you were only helping your brother's friend out. It was never any more than that, and it never would be. Telling yourself that only helped so much, though.

You call Jake for the first time, upset almost two months later. You had opened your mail to find a letter with crisp blocky lettering giving your name and address. The return address was one Jake Seresin, with a US address you didn't recognize. Inside was a beautiful thank you card filled with Jake's same neat handwriting. It had a heartfelt thank you for what a difference you made on his deployment. It made your heart flutter.

What did not make your heart flutter and instead actually made your blood boil was the amount of money that had been stuffed into the card. Inside the card were way too many hundred dollar bills lined up and, on top of that, a visa gift card.

You were clicking the call button on his contact before you even made it back inside the house. The phone rang and rang. When he did pick up, his voice was crisp and business-like. It was almost unnerving to hear him so clearly, after being used to crackly spotty calls.

"This is Lieutenant Seresin."

"Tell me, did you always have this much audacity, or did you learn it in the academy?" You asked him, voice dripping with sarcasm. There was a long pause from him before he started chuckling.

"Well, hello to you too, Darlin. I haven't heard from you in a while."

Your stomach did not flip at the nickname; there was no possible way. You almost had to pinch yourself to focus back on the conversation.

"That isn't an answer, Hangman. You know it is not safe to send this much money in the mail. Plus, you know I didn't want to be paid back!"

"I knew if I wrote a check, you wouldn't cash or deposit it," he says. His voice is still teasing, and he is clearly enjoying one-upping you."

"I am sending this back to you."

"Absolutely not." The teasing in his voice was less present now. "If you don't want to see it as paying you back, fine. Then just look at it as a thank you for being one of the only things keeping me sane during deployment."

You sighed heavily into the phone, but your anger waned at his claim that you helped him. The silence stretches a little, and you feel acceptance slowly filling you.

"I am just not comfortable with it. You know there are other ways to say thank you. I would have been delighted with just a card." You told him.

"Oh really?" Jake asked, that amused tone coming back again. "What would some acceptable forms be then?"

"It's too late; you chose money."

"I'll brainstorm some other ideas then."

"No, you can't do anything else now."

He doesn't say anything to that, only hums into the phone.

"I'm so sorry to call you out of the blue like this. Are you busy?"

"No, not busy. I just got home from work,” he tells you.

"How is being back in the States?"

"Weird," Jake says honestly.

Before you know it, you two talk for another hour, and Jake feels like your friend again. You two talk every once in a while, and you finally start to think you might actually be real friends.

During his next deployment, you don't even hesitate to start sending him care packages again. Jake is just as thankful; each time he gets your care package, flowers are delivered to your door within a day or two. Then written thank you cards come at a much more delayed pace, postage from the other side of the world accompanied by Jake's clean handwriting and sweet messages. You much prefer it over the money he sent the first time.

The pattern continues through the whole deployment and two TAD also. This time your friendship never waned, only growing stronger. You still get flutters when talking to him sometimes. It never ventures beyond that, though, and you eventually give up trying to be flirty or hopeful something would develop between you two. Jake never seems interested in you that way, and sometimes it feels more like he sees you as a little sister than even a friend, which is a low blow.

However, it really starts to reach a breaking point when Jake excitedly tells you that he is getting restationed to a naval base in your area. The concept of being an in-person friend with Jake is foreign. At first, you aren't sure you can even handle it. Seeing his handsome face, wanting him, knowing what the products you have bought for him over the last two years smell like on his skin. Seeing how his eyes crinkle when he smiles and matching up his facial expression to different tones of voice you are familiar with, it is just as difficult as you imagined it would be.

You had tried to distance yourself initially, rationalizing that you were too busy to fit a new friend in your life. However, this never worked with him; he would go above and beyond to accommodate whatever weird schedules you would throw at him. This is how he became more of a best friend to you. The whole situation really came to a boil on a Friday night in August.

The first thing you notice about Jake "Hangman" Seresin when he rings your doorbell at 1:30 in the morning is that no matter the time of day, he is devastatingly handsome. The second thing you notice is that he is absolutely smashed drunk.

"Jake?" You ask him like he might disappear and this is just a dream.

"Hello, Darlin," His accent is three times as thick after drinking, and he sways a little where he is standing. His hair was messy, and his eyes had a glassy glazed-over look to them.

You quickly look around, trying to figure out how he got here. There wasn't a car in sight, though, which was somewhat of a relief. At least you knew that he hadn't driven by the lack of his truck.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted," he starts to say but then abruptly snaps his mouth closed. His face scrunches like he is trying really hard to concentrate. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open again, he looks a bit like a lost puppy. "I don't know."

You sigh and wrap your arms around yourself, throwing open the door and ushering him into the house. "How about you come in?"

A grin instantly split his face, and he walked through your door, brushing extremely close to you, ignoring the ample space you left for him to go through the door. He went to your kitchen and slumped into one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar. You closed the front door, locking it before following after him.

"How did you get here?" You asked.

"I walked."

"You walked from where?" You were wracking your brain, trying to think of anywhere close by he could have been and gotten this drunk.

"Was at Red Brick Rhythm," he tells you, his face propped up on one of his hands, his elbow planted firmly on the counter. Jake doesn't stop looking at you either, his eyes following your every move.

You fill up a glass of water and pour in some liquid IV before handing it to him, trying to place the club in your mind. Then you gasp, suddenly remembering where it is. "Jake, that's like five miles away."

He hummed noncommittally and took a big gulp of the water. He set it down half full now and was looking at you like he was waiting for some sort of prize at his effort. You are half tempted to tell him he is a good Lieutenant, but instead, you try to escape his gaze by looking in your fridge.

"Are you hungry?"

“I'm always ravenous, sweetheart," he tells you and winks. Jake makes you laugh, and you start to examine the contents of your fridge.

"What do you want then? I'm not sure I have much."

He didn't answer you, so you turned to find him staring at you again. Jake responds in a dead serious voice, ”I'll take anything you give me."

You sighed since that didn't help you but watched him fight to keep his eyes open and decided to throw some tater tots in the Airfryer real quick.

"No complaining with what you get then."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, nodding his head slowly. The action made him close his eyes and take a deep breath.

You parked yourself against the counter, leaning back against it to examine him. "How are you feeling? Okay, do you need anything?"

His eyes open, and he slowly blinks at you a few times, and a severe frown suddenly mars his features. You want to run your fingers over the crease in his eyebrows and the shape of his lips until he smiles again. You almost have to physically shake your head to dislodge the thought from your brain.

"Did you have a date tonight?" He blurts out as if he finally noticed the makeup on your face and your hair that is still styled. He had caught you before you were ready to wash off the night. You hesitate for a moment, not sure you actually want to talk about it, but decide to tell him. You don't want Jake to think you couldn't find anything better to do on a Friday night than stay home.

"Yeah, I did."

"How was it?"

"It was good," you lied. It had actually been terrible.

The man you met from Hinge had shown up late and ditched the bill on you, unwilling to split it as you requested. On top of that, he had asked you three whole questions before he went on a rant for the rest of the date about what he thought women should and shouldn't be doing.

The lie you told Jake didn't ease the frown on his face, though, or the darkness in his eyes. His free hand drums against your countertop in a light staccato, drawing your eyes towards them and his academy graduation ring. "Couldn't be too good if you answered the door, and you're here alone."

"Who says I'm here alone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. "There could be a satisfied man in my bed right now. Or maybe we did the deed, and he is already on his way home."

"You wouldn't have answered the door," Jake says slowly. You can see his drunk mind doing mental gymnastics at the possibility you presented to him. However, the severe look on his face eases significantly after that. "And you don't look satisfied, Darlin."

"I don't look satisfied?" you question him. This line of conversation was quickly entering a place you two had never gone before. "And you would know what that looks like, Hangman?" You tease him.

"I could make you very satisfied. No sane man would let you out of bed once he had you there, let alone this early at night. With your pretty little mouth still looking in perfect shape, I bet you didn't even make it to second base."

His damn fingers hadn't stopped their drumming on the counter, and suddenly they were the only thing filling your thoughts about how they would feel against you, in you. He also looks distracted, though, staring at you again. You bite your lip, trying hard to clear your mind to figure out how to redirect this conversation.

"Are you doubting my capabilities to satisfy you?" He questioned your words catching up with him. He stood up from the stool he had been sitting on, looking much steadier on his feet than when he showed up at your door.

"Don't think I could ruin that pretty makeup, tangle your hair, eat you out until you cried? Make you beg for me? You doubt I could make you forget your own name? Then put you back together again?" Every fiber of your being knew he could probably do every one of those things and not even put in much effort.

"No, I don't doubt your capabilities. Just…" you finally choked out and trailed off, feeling like there suddenly wasn't enough oxygen in the room.

"Just what?" He asked you, and his voice was sinfully deep.

"Just that you don't know when I look like that." You supply, the words were stilted and awkward.

"What if we found out together then? Me what you look like. And you, what it feels like."

He made to move closer to you, but you instinctually held up one of your hands, and he stopped freezing in place. You finally averted your gaze from him to the Airfryer dinging. You grabbed a plate and threw the tater tots on it, collecting some condiments from the fridge so Jake would have options.

He was still standing in the same spot and hadn't moved any closer in the process it took you to get the food. Jake’s bright eyes burning into your back.

You can't quite quell the heat simmering in you from the line of conversation. The sinful tone of Jake's voice. Of course, those were all things you wanted from him, things you imagined. But that wasn't realistic, and he was drunk. You were his friend's little sister, probably his most robust support system during deployments, his close friend and confidant. One drunken tumble in the sheets wasn't worth risking that.

You sigh heavily, setting the plate down on the counter where he had been sitting. "Sit down, Jake, and eat."

He follows orders well because, of course, he does. He dips a tater tot in some of the homemade BBQ sauce he had given you a few months ago and shoves it into his mouth. Jake has that same look he did with the water, which he is once again sipping, like he is looking for praise. However, under that, he looks a little defeated, his shoulders hunched slightly.

"Listen," you start slowly, trying to craftily pick your words so no more damage can be done. "You are drunk, and I was just teasing. It's nothing, Jake."

"I'm not too drunk," he defends himself, munching on another tot.

"You're sloshed," you say, pointing a finger.

"I am not sloshed, sweetheart. I walked all the way here. I drank water. My words aren't slurring." All of these were valid points, and his drunk mannerisms were improving by the minute. However, he was still inebriated. He had been drinking tonight, and you could use that as a defense.

"Doesn't change that you have been drinking, Jake."

He then dropped a tater tot that was halfway to his mouth and glared at you. He had never glared at you before. You weren't sure how to handle this situation. Instinctively you flinched a little at the harsh look, which lasted for a minute longer before he dropped his head low and stared at the plate.

"Am I just your pity, friend?" He asked you quietly.

"What? No, of course not!"

"I know I'm not the only one of Freight's friends you have sent care packets." He said using your brother's call sign, which made your eyebrows raise. Jake had known your brother, FreightTrain, since well before that was his call sign and they went to flight school together.

"Of course, I help support some of them when y'all are deployed. I am literally in the American Legion Auxiliary, you know," you said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal.

"You send Bradshaw care packages," Jake said, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable. "He told me about it. "

You glared at him then, not about to put up with him being jealous over something like that.

"And so what if I do? Rooster is my brother's friend, just like you. And the man is an orphan. Who else is going to send him packages?"

"He is a grown man who can take care of himself."

"The same can be said about you, Jake."

He huffed, and that annoying crease in-between his eyebrows deepened along with his frown. His bottom lip caught in-between his teeth, biting it a few times in frustration before letting go.

"Do you want a list of all the people I send them to? I don't understand your issue here."

"The issue is," Jake clenched his fist and jaw before growling out the rest of his sentence, "I'm not just Freight's friend to you! We are more than that."

"Are we?" You ask him quietly, not knowing that was actually true.

Silence hung in the air between you while you waited to see if he would fill it. Waiting for Jake to reassure you that no, of course, y'all were more. That he cared about you as much as you cared about him. That you weren't just a convenient and useful person in his life. That you could have your beautiful friendship and so much more. However, instead of giving you those reassurances, Jake decided to finish his water and stand up again.

"I'm sorry for bothering you tonight, Ma'am. It won't happen again."

"Jake, no," you said softly, being the one who moved towards him now. "Stop. Where are you going to go? It's the middle of the night. You can stay here and finish eating."

"I can't impose more than I already have, Ma'am."

"Stop calling me Ma'am," You snap at him, already feeling the hurt of this encounter ringing through your veins.

"I can't stay here," Jake told you, and you were just thankful he didn't attach Ma'am to the clipped sentence this time.

"Well, this is me temporarily waiving my third amendment rights. Okay?" you say gently, pleading with your eyes. You were reeling from this interaction. Part of you still felt charged by his suggestive words of what he could do to you. Part of you was desperately worried you had somehow messed up your friendship. Then there was part of you that was confused about this jealous problem he seems to have with you sending care packages to other people.

"No, not okay."

"Not okay?" You parrot back.

"Do you know why I walked all the way here?" He asked you, his tone dead serious, and the glaze that had been there in his eyes when you first opened the door was almost entirely gone.

"Because you couldn't remember anywhere else to go?"

"No," he said calmly. "I came here tonight because I was drunk, and the only person I wanted to see was you. I always want to see you. No matter how far away you are, my feet are begging me to walk towards you: from down the road, the other side of the country, the middle of the ocean. You are my soul's compass point now.

"Normally, I can resist. I can act like I'm just your friend or your brother's friend. That I was just assigned this base randomly, without any subtle and insistent requests to my superiors for reassignment here. I can pretend that I don't have every single one of your cards saved. I have so much control all the time, but I am so tired. And tonight I was drinking, then I just couldn't stop my feet anymore from walking here, to you."

Every possible thought in your brain suddenly ran to the exit. The only thing occupying your mind was the look of pure sincerity on Jake "Hangman" Seresin's face while he poured his heart out.

"Jake," you whispered, taking a few steps toward him. This time, however, he was the one who stopped you, holding up his hand.

"I've never felt like I wasn't good enough before. Maybe a bit when I was younger, but not since I got over all my childhood bullshit and went to USNA. Definitely not since I figured out I'm actually the best at something as a pilot in flight school. But now I can't escape the feeling. I run the numbers all the time. I try and figure out if I have interpreted the signs wrong. I just can't wrap my mind around why I'm not good enough for you."

Jake might as well have taken a knife out of the block sitting by your stove and stabbed you. That would have hurt less than the tight feeling in your chest hearing him admit he felt insufficient. Jake's posture, the way he shrunk into himself, was wrong. He refused to meet your eyes now. It was all wrong, so incompatible with the man you knew Jake Seresin to be. He looked like he was about to keep going, but you didn't think your heart, which had just ripped itself into pieces, could handle hearing anything else.

"Enough," you growl out, slapping your hand down on the counter. "I won't hear another word of this." That just seemed to make Jake shrink more into himself, and he looked seconds away from hightailing it out of the door.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves and make a fully conscious effort so that your voice came out kind and caring. "You are worthy, Jake. I am ashamed if, for some reason, I have contributed to making you feel like you aren't."

"That's not enough to make you love me," he whispered, still not looking at you.

"Look at me," you begged. His eyes remained on the abandoned plate, so you repeated your request just as softly. Finally, when those sea glass eyes poured into yours, they were filled with hurt and panic. You tried to find the words to adequately say how you felt, the words that could make him understand the situation you were in.

"I love you too much to love you, Jake." You immediately wanted to stick your foot in your mouth hearing the words out loud.

"What does that mean?" He asked, which, to be fair, was a valid question.

"It means I care about you too much. It means you are too special to me. You are too good of a friend to try and fuck it up by adding more. I have to have you in my life. I won't lose us just because we decide to have sex or try something else, and it doesn't work out. It could never be worth it enough to even entertain losing you."

"Well, I love you too much to keep being your friend. I can't hear about your dates or watch you care about someone else. I can't be your friend anymore, pretending I'm not in love with you. It would never be genuine, and you deserve more than that."

Tears spring up in your eyes at his words, and your hands clench into fists. The only thing that stops you from sobbing is the steady breaths you are reminding yourself to take. "Then I guess we are at an impasse."

"This is the end then," Jake's voice breaks when he says end. You can't hold back the tears anymore; all it takes is two blinks, then they slide down your cheeks in fat drops.

"Don't say that," you beg him.

"I don't know what else to say."

"Take it back, say that you are drunk. That you don't love me. That I'm your friend's annoying little sister, who you promised to keep an eye on. Tell me you aren't leaving me. Tell me something that will fix this between us."

Silence stretches between the both of you again. Tears keep falling down your face, your eyes were begging Jake for comfort, but they only meet the steady resignation in his.

"I hate seeing you cry." He finally utters, which just makes you cry harder.

"Please," you didn't know what you were asking him for, though. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to self-soothe and find some form of comfort. Jake continued staring at you. He made a micromovement like he was going to come comfort you at least twice but stopped himself each time.

"I'm going to go." He gave you one final look and spun on his heel towards your front door.

You only let him get to the hallway, where he originally kicked off his shoes and was starting to shove them back on his feet. You caught his arm, wrapping your hand around it, stopping his movements.

"Don't do this. I love you."

"You're breaking my heart," he whispers, covering your hand with his own. Jake's USNA ring felt cool against your flushed skin.

"If I let you have me, will you stay?"

"No, not now that I know you don't want me."

"I never said I didn't want you," you retort, squeezing his arm a little.

“No. I could have bared simply not being enough or that you found me unattractive. What you told me was worse."

"I can't lose you over this. Not over drunken words and feelings."

"I'm not drunk," he growled out with a steel edge to his voice. "I'm not even a lick beyond stone-cold sober anymore. So stop implying my words and feelings are anything beyond genuine. I ain't asking you for tonight, sweetheart. I was here asking you for forever."

God, you knew that was what he was asking for, but that only made it so much scarier. His hand started to slip from where it covering yours. You twisted your hand to catch his fingers in yours. Ever so slowly, you brought it closer to you and brushed your lips over his knuckles. Jake's eyes were tracing your actions watching intently. When your lips touched his skin, he audibly gasped. The intake of breath was so minimal you wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't been standing so close.

"My date was terrible," you whispered to him, not letting go of his hand and holding it close to yourself. Jake raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, so you just continued on. "They always are bad, even when they should be good, because they are never with you. And I also have kept all of your thank you cards. I've dried every bouquet of flowers you sent to me, so I wouldn't ever have to throw them out.

"I dream about you and think about you all the time. I didn't even want to be friends when you first moved here, because I was already more than in love with you from texts and phone calls. The first time I smelled your aftershave, which I had bought you, on your actual skin, I wanted to jump your bones. You didn't make it easier for me, Jake, looking like you were crafted from marble by an artist. And then I found out you tip servers well. I learned you are just as funny and kind in person as you were on the phone. An accomplished, decorated Naval officer, giving me any time of day even as a friend still seems ludicrous. You are too good to be true and certainly too damn good for me, Jake Seresin."

His pupils were blown wide, and his mouth open just the tiniest bit. He leans forward, you are fully expecting him to kiss you now, but instead, his forehead presses into yours. It's a grounding feeling, the weight of skull against yours, your breath mingling. It reminds both of you that this is real. His free hand comes to cup your cheek pushing away the stray tears still clinging to your cheeks. Your eyes pouring into each other, hardly even blinking.

"I can be yours then?" he asked when your breathing had evened out.

"You already are mine. You've been mine for a long time, haven't you?" You reassured him and asked him in the same breath.

"Yes. I've been yours. Always yours," Jake muttered lowly.

"Good. You are so good. Too good." You praised him, and his face split into a grin, and you were tempted to break the moment you were having and kiss him silly.

"Will you let me love you then?" He asked you a moment later.

"Yes, but it won't be easy," you warn him.

"If I wanted anything easy in life, I would have joined the Air Force." Before the joke even fully settles, or you have a moment to defend the Air Forces' honor, Jake's lips press against yours. The way his mouth feels against yours is even better than you had imagined.

You invite him to your bed, but he refuses to sleep with you, even if it is just sharing a bed, before at least one proper date. You try to fight him on it, but Jake says he can't be anything but a proper gentleman. You make up the couch for him, taking too long to tuck the blanket around him because you keep getting distracted by kissing every inch of his face. Finally, you go to bed when you can't stop yawning, realizing it is past three am.

In the morning, you wake up sure the night before had been a dream. However, you are proven wrong when you make your way out of your room. There you find Jake shirtless in the kitchen humming to the music he has playing on his phone, flipping pancakes and bacon. The sight and scents combined literally make your mouth water.

"Can this count as our first date?" You ask him before even saying good morning. The laugh it prompts in him is warm and fills the whole room before settling your chest. You know it's a sound you never want to stop hearing.

#jake seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #topgun imagine #hangman imagine

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grandmasterswife · 2 months

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Secrets Above the Stairs

->Pairing: Childhood Bestfriend!Reader x Rafe

->Summary: Rafe comes to you distraught with a confession after helping his dad commit a crime.

->Warnings/Tags: Vulnerable!Rafe, mentions of doing coke lol, angst

->A/n: This is incredibly short, but I loved writing it. I am such a whore for comforting the vulnerable. Anyway, this takes place during Season 2, episode 2 when Ward kills Gavin bc he's blackmailing him and then comes home and asks for Rafe's help to get rid of the body.

First time sharing my writing, pls be nice <;3.

Your eyes burn at the bright light in contrast to the dark room that you had previously been asleep in. Your phone is dinging with messages that you figure you’ll ignore and read in the morning, until the obnoxious ringer goes off indicating you’re getting a phone call.

‘My fucking god.

You snatch the phone into your hand and squint your eyes enough so you can see the answer button without bothering to look at who was calling. Your eyelids scratch against your eyes like sandpaper, and you can’t fight the heaviness weighing them down.

You try to say something into the phone but all that comes out is a gravelly murmur.

“Can I-,” There’s a short sniffle, “Can I come up to your room?” His octave is low and soft, if he was anyone else you would have second guessed who was calling.

Rafe’s distraught voice pumped adrenaline into your body, forcing you to sit up in bed.

“Are you okay?”

“I just- I need to come up. You’re home, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Grabbing pants wasn’t of importance to you at the moment, mostly because you didn’t want to dig around your drawers to find something and waste more time. You were just glad tonight was one of the nights you decided to wear an oversized t-shirt to bed.

You hurry down the stairs, using your phone screen as a flashlight to find the steps and illuminate the space between the halls and door. The metal handle is just as cold as the tiles on the floor, and as goosebumps raise all over your body, you're desperate to get him to your room so you can jump back into your warm covers.

Your selfish desire ceases the second you open the door. Rafe Cameron, the usual cocky but otherwise unemotional boy you were once bonded with, is at your doorstep with wet cheeks and a heavy expression that left you with about a hundred thoughts running through your mind of what could have happened. You pull the door further open, and he walks in past you. The moonlight disappears as you close the entrance, leaving you in pitch black. You wait to ask any questions till you’ve made it to your bedroom.

“This w—” You started to whisper.

“I remember where it is.”

You momentarily forget that this used to be a second home to him. He knows how many steps lead up to your second floor, and which dishes are in which cabinet. He knows that you wear little to nothing at nighttime because your room is hotter than the rest of the house, he knows which part of the couch you prefer to lay on, and most of all, he knows you’re the only one aware of the kind of person his dad is.

You get to the top of the stairs and after a few more steps and turns, you push your door open and close it behind him. After turning on your lamp, your stomach sinks at the sight of your former best friends' dazed expression and nervous fidgeting. You barely manage to suppress the urge to wrap your arms around him, instead you wrap them around yourself and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s going on?”

“I haven’t been in here since freshmen year of high school.” He says flatly, looking around the dimly lit room. The rays of orange from your lamp display across the walls and furniture.

He sounds distant when he speaks, and your arms tighten around your torso. Rafe Cameron was not one to be fazed. At least not the one you knew. Not your Rafe. You heard about his short temper and drug habits only after the two of you had stopped hanging out. You saw him at a party last summer with a rolled-up bill up his nose sniffing white lines from a table. Maybe you should have intervened then, but you weren’t sure what your place was in his life anymore.

“Yeah, I know,” You clear your throat, “Are you gonna talk to me?"

“I have this- this... stuff that I’m dealing with. And uh, I don’t think I can tell anyone else. I’m not even sure I should tell you.” He sits down beside you and curiosity fills your mind.

“Rafe,” you tuck a leg underneath yourself and adjust so your body is facing him, “what happened?”

In this moment, you weren’t just ex-friends who grew apart over the years, making small talk in the name of nostalgia. In this moment, you’re the kids cannonballing into your pool at the family barbeque, the teenagers sneaking alcohol from your parents’ liquor cabinet just to get drunk in your room, the friends who spent every day together. In this moment, you never grew apart and you still understood each other.

“I did something. And- and I- I did it to protect my dad, you know? But someone knew. He fucking knew I did it and he was trying to blackmail my dad for money. And so, he—”

“What’d he do? What did you do?”

His blue eyes observe your face like he’s trying to determine his next words. You want him to talk to you, so you lean closer to put a hand on his knee for support.

“He killed our pilot, Gavin. He asked me to help him-” He lets out a shaky breath as he rubs his face, like he's trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Help him get rid of it.”

“Did you…?”

Even with him turning away, you see his eyes moisten. He opens his mouth like he's about to answer but instead, he clenches his jaw shut and looks up to the ceiling. Your face twists with concern at his reaction, but you don't want to say anything else until he answers.

“I did, Y/n.” His voice cracked.

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to criticize Ward or ask what the hell happened to him after you stopped being friends, but neither would do him any good. Instead, you sigh and give in to the urge telling you to pull him into you. You wonder why he didn't go to Topper or Kelce; you never spotted him in public without one of them at his side. But as he embraces you tightly, you quickly realize what he wants is comfort and you wince at the sobs that start to erupt out of him. In between sniffles, he starts to tell you everything. Not just about what his dad did tonight, but about what he did that led to it in the first place; he killed a cop.

“I think there might be something wrong with me.”

Might is an understatement.

“That is some pretty fucked up stuff, Rafe.”

“I need you. I don’t know how to fix this on my own.” He lifts his head up. His face is only an inch away from yours, you can feel his warm breath on your skin as his eyes gaze into yours like he’s searching for something.

“Okay,” You put your hands on his shoulders to create space between you, “Stay here tonight. I’ll help you. We’ll fix it.”

#rafe cameron #rafe #fanfic #obx fic #rafe obx #outerbanks #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #rafe x reader #ward cameron #angst #soft rafe cameron #grandmasterswifefic #grandmasterswife #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 6 days

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Clone wars headcanons that took me forever to edit

I feel like my last couple of headcanons have been mushy so I’ve decided to write some shit Ahsoka and Anakin do that piss each other off

Ahsoka bites the skin around her nails all the time and most of the time she won't stop till they’re bleeding

Anakin’s tried literally everything in the book to get her to stop

He tried putting spices on her hands forgetting that she likes spicy food, he’s tried painting her nails (like that’ll do anything) but she keeps picking the paint off, now he just uses the force to remove them from her mouth

That’s gotten a few growls from her but at least it makes her aware she’s doing it but it doesn’t stop her from bitting them a couple of seconds later

Honestly he’s given up and just sits in silence while she complains about the pain

Anakin paces whenever he’s even slightly nervous and she can tell how nervous he is depending on how fast he moves

If he’s just kinda anxious he moves pretty slow but if he’s like one shirt caught on a door handle away from a panic attack he’s teleporting

When Padme told him he was gonna be a dad he was ecstatic for about 24 hours but after that some invisible timer went off in his head he booked it to Ahsoka’s house (she lives down the street cause of course she does)

Walked into her room and woke her poor sleepy butt up with all his pacing

Girl swears to this day he broke the damn sound barrier with how fast he was moving

She just wordlessly sat up and patted her bed cause she knew she wasn’t gonna get any sleep until he did

She sat by him and listened as he rattled off all his worries and only really stepped in when the darker thoughts surfaced when it was all said and done she turned to him and said “Now let me kriffing sleep”

Should he have probably left the room yeah but he got a total of 30 minutes of “sleep” that night so it’s not surprising that he knocked the fuck out of

Padme was a little bit alarmed to wake up without Anakin but was quickly soothed when she read Ahsoka’s message “Your nerf herders with me”

She knew the pregnancy would dredge up some unhappy feelings and she also knew Anakin can’t think clearly if he doesn’t have Ahsoka to sort through the bullshit in his head

She just got ready for brunch with her two favorite people and smiled cause she knew Obi-Wan and Rex would join them for dinner with or without an invitation

When Anakin and Ahsoka were living together they would kick each other out of their own bathrooms

Why? Well Ahsoka said Anakin’s had better lighting and water pressure and Anakin would do it to spite Ahsoka because he knew it would piss her off

Slowly but surely their stuff gets moved into each other's bathrooms and it’s a weird amalgamation of crap

Also when they were living together Anakin would ask Ahsoka if she was hungry before cooking and she’d often say no because she didn’t want to impose but his cooking always looked and smelled good

So half the time girl would just end up eating some of his food when she thought he wasn’t looking

At first he was like “Snips you said you weren’t hungry” to which she would respond “Yeah I wasn’t hungry then but I am now” after that he starts making more food on instinct cause damn that girl can eat

Anakin gets back at her pretty easily tho by taking the first bite of her food whenever they go out to eat his excuse is that he’s “making sure it’s not poisoned” he never does this to Padme cause he respects her too damn much

And he can’t use that trick on Obi-Wan and Rex cause the former taught him the trick and the latter has a bullshit detecter built-in

Both Anakin and Ahsoka pull that trick on the twins tho (which gets them a quick scolding from Padme)

Speaking of the twins it’s not surprising that as they grow up they realize that their auntie isn’t human so of course like any normal child they have questions and Anakin being the little shit that he is spots an opportunity for some laughs

So he turns to the twins all serious-like and goes “Well my loves we actually found your auntie in a dumpster we have no idea where she came from” the twins are distraught and go to the nearest adult who just so happens to be their uncle Rex

And Rex also being a little shit backs up Anakin’s story with so much sincerity that even Anakin believed it a little bit

The twins being the angels they are apologize to their auntie for her terrible origin story with tears in their eyes and her reaction more than made up for the swift ass-kicking the boys got

When Anakin was taller than Ahsoka he made her life hell by making fun of her every time something was even slightly out of her reach

He would make a big deal about grabbing it for her while commenting about how the temple’s architecture wasn’t made with the “young ones” in mind

Obi-Wan has turned multiple blind eyes when Ahsoka socked the shit out of his arms when he tells one too many jokes some days

When she finally grows taller than him she makes the biggest deal about it and no one can blame her

While Anakin is the pilot Ahsoka is easily the navigator she often jokes that Anakin wouldn’t find his way out of bed without help

Which is funny cause he often acts like a herding dog with her putting his hand on her back or holding her arm to guide her

But he’s wrong 9/10 times so it’s not uncommon to see Anakin guiding her in one direction and then see him get dragged in the opposite direction a couple of minutes later

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sugolara · 7 months

Text

𝙇𝙤𝙩𝙪𝙨 𝙁𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

ft. yandere! Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

series m.list || next

Rebirth

• • •

For as long as she could remember, guilt was all she could feel. It roamed in her head like a plague that threatened to spread further and further, soon to take over her body and be in complete control. Why is it that she felt so guilty?

When she hadn't done anything wrong.

"F/n?" The sound of her name brought her back to reality. She stared at the familiar pair of heterochromia eyes as they worriedly looked at her. That's right, she had forgotten she was in class.

"Are you okay?" Shoto asked as he eyed his childhood friend. He continued to stare at her as she stared blankly at him.

She blinked, then let out a small smile, embarrassingly scratching her cheek, "Sorry, I didn't get enough sleep last night. I was replaying the movie I had watched in my mind and I guess you caught me spacing out."

Her friend shook his head, "I texted you last night to sleep. I'm assuming you disregarded my message, right?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was really into the movie." She said as she let out another chuckle. Ahead, she watched as Denki messed around with Katsuki. She sat near her friends as they waited for their classmates to enter and for their homeroom teacher to begin class.

The bi-colored hair male looked at the side of her face. Her eyebags had seemed to get larger. Just yesterday they seemed fine, but it almost looked like she had been crying which concerned the male. Especially since he knew her history, “Have you been taking your medications?”

She glanced at him again, rolling her eyes in the process with a smile, “Yes, dad. One last night and one this morning. My next one is tonight, like always.”

His worriedness washed away as he smiled, a tiny smile that he only held for her, “I’m just making sure. You always forget to take it.”

“Well, I took it this time, alright?” She said, looking away from him, “I’ll make sure to message you again tonight.”

Next to her, Tenya let out a disappointed sigh as he readjusted his glasses. He shook his head as he watched the boys roughly mess around, "Almost two years and they still don't know how to behave. How absurd."

Shoto, who after finishing his conversation with F/n, scrolled through his phone, "I think they were just born like that."

Ochaco giggled as Katsuki grabbed a fistful of Denki's hair and shook him, "I don't know, it's kind of entertaining."

"And also reckless." Tenya motioned his hands up and down, "They're almost adults and yet they behave like children."

"Again," Shoto placed his phone down, "I think they were born like that. Or maybe dropped as a kid."

While Ochaco giggled at Shoto's comment, F/n smiled at him, "Look at you trying to be funny. New year, new you, huh?"

"It's also very rude." Tenya added.

Shoto smiled, ignoring the navy-haired male, "Was I being funny?"

"Guess new you still don't understand humor." Ochaco said as she let out a content sigh.

Three months into their second year of school and yet everyone is the same. That didn't bother the h/c haired girl. Though, she did wish some people like Katsuki would change their attitude. However, she does wonder if this year will be different.

She hoped for it to be a good difference.

"Oh, right." Ochaco perked up, "Have you guys heard?"

The three friends raised their brows, "Heard what?"

She smiled, "Apparently, we have a new boy coming to our class!"

"A new student?" Tenya thought for a second, "How come I wasn't informed? I'm the Class Rep."

"It was probably last minute." Shoto pointed out, "Momo would have said something if she knew as well."

F/n agreed, "Yeah, but why are we having a new student? Isn't our class full?"

"Oh, that's right, you haven't heard." Tenya lifted his arm, "Minoru Mineta got expelled last week for his inappropriate actions towards Momo. That's why he hasn't been around. It was time for him to leave anyway."

"Yep! And in return we get a hot, attractive guy to replace him!" Mina, with a big grin, interrupted them as she, Kyoka and Momo entered class.

"How do you even know if he's attractive? You haven't even met him." Kyoka pointed out as she headed for her seat, annoyed at Mina.

"Because I can just feel it!" Mina shouted and laughed as she followed after the purple-haired friend, "Plus, I think I just saw him in the hallway."

Momo shook her head and greeted everyone good morning. Ochaco moved away from her seat and talked to Mina as she squealed about the new kid being hands off. The boys only groaned in annoyance.

"Nobody cares about some damn extra!" Katsuki shouted at her, ensuing an argument.

Tenya continued to shake his head and attempted to deescalate the situation, but unfortunately the argument was turned on him. In their seats, F/n smiled as Shoto eyed his friend, "Aren't you curious who this new kid might be?"

F/n shrugged, "Not really. It's just a new kid. If anything he'll turn out like Denki or Katsuki."

"I would've thought you would be at least a little curious, especially if it's a boy." Shoto added as he looked away from her.

"Aw!" She poked his cheeks, "Are you jealous that I might replace you?"

He huffed lightly with tinted cheeks, "No."

She let go of his face and chuckled, "Don't worry, Shoto. I won't go anywhere. Nothing can ever separate us anyways!"

Right on time, the school bell rang and the classroom door opened and in stepped Mr. Aizawa with a meek kid following behind, "Everyone sit down, I have an announcement to make. This is your new classmate. Please make him feel welcome and what not. Introduce yourself."

"I-I'm Izuku M-Midoriya! Please take care of me!" He bowed down, feeling embarrassed with the sudden attention.

"Oh. He's kind of plain looking." Mina's face fell in disappointment.

Ochaco blushed a little, "He's kind of cute."

"What the hell!?" Katsuki yelled, frightening Izuku, "What are you doing here, Deku!?"

"Oh, good, you know someone." Mr. Aizawa boringly pointed behind F/n, "There's your seat."

Izuku nodded and quickly rushed towards his seat, avoiding Katsuki's death stare. However, as his eyes moved forward, they pinned themselves on F/n. It was only a quick second, but Izuku's breath hitched as she looked at him.

While the lesson continued and played as background, Izuku eyed her back. It had seemed like things were getting harder for him. He was just glad that he had found her once again.

Is it the same as always?

Why can't it be different this time?

As always, there is a lot of work to do.

But for now, Izuku had to think of a way to approach her. Maybe this time, things can go smoothly if cards are played right.

#izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #bnha midoriya #yandere izuku x reader #yandere izuku #izuku x f/n

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lgwifey · 11 months

Note

hey would you ever do a part two to delusions (robert x reader). id love to read it! x

DELUSIONS PART TWO

Robert keating x fem!hewson!reader

Summery : Y/n’s being carted away to stay with her brother and coincidentally there’s only one person in when she arrives.

Warnings : not proof read, bad spelling ✨, cringe xx

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

2023

"I'm really sorry about you award tonight, I thought your new album was defiantly better than hers, smiley face"

Y/n turned around to face Anais and Issac whilst she lounged on their sofa in their living room where she had invited herself to stay for the night since Eli was in a strop and her dad was too concerned with him to notice she'd disappeared.

"How does that sound ?"

"Maybe rephrase the last sentence ? Something which is less," Issac paused for a minute before mimicking her frequent squeal, "I've been in love with you since I was thirteen oh my gawd you're so gorgeous." His face turned to its regular serious after the dramatic second.

"So get rid of the 'your new album was defiantly better than hers' ?"

"Maybe something like 'I'm sorry about your award tonight, maybe try being a better musician ' ?"

The Irish girl turned to Anais with a mortified expression, quickly closing her phone.

"Maybe I should just leave it ?"

"Maybe ."

"Shut up Issac, no defiantly dm him at least, like he was giving major signs tonight."

The blonde gave the younger girl a suggestive wink before laughing, causing the other two to laugh as well.

"I'm not getting my hopes up anymore, but I'll just send a normal, platonic message to him which he probably won't see but what can ye do."

"That's our girl."

Issac have a small round of applause before leaving to go to the kitchen to get a drink after having to deal with the message rehearsals. Once he left the room, Anais made her way over to Y/n with a grin on her lips.

"What about a little snap, like just with a bra in the background ?"

Once again, y/n looked at her with a look of horror.

"My brother is with him !"

Y/n dragged her suitcases to the front of the terrace house, a glare to her dad who stood beside her. He knocked on the bright door whilst she gave another complaining huff.

“Look you don’t want to stay at your granny’s and your ma isn’t dealing with you by herself for three months so Elijah is the last option y/n. Trust me it took a while for him to agree to it.”

“I’m 21 and being babysat by my brother. Are you even able to comprehend how sexist that it. He was touring without anyone at 20 !”

“That’s different.”

Y/n just gawped in shock before letting out a very unusual noise that resembled something between a scoff and a choke.

Before her dad could say anything else, the door was swung open and none of the than Robert Keating stood there with wet curls and a towel wrapped around his waist.

Y/n flushed bright pink, immediately turning to look in the opposite direction, noticing the neighbours had a camera pointing at her as she did so.

“Oh sorry, thought yous where coming over tomorrow.”

“We where but plans changed, I texted Eli?”

“Oh the other three have been out all night, they ended up staying at some hotel I think.”

Y/n looked back to where the semi-naked 23 year old was stood, trying to make it look like she wasn’t overly fussed by his presence.

“Will you two be ok if I just leave her here, I’m already running behind.”

He looked over to where the younger girl stood staring intently at the wall next to him and let out a small smirk, barely noticeable since y/n had lost most of her vision from eye strain and Bono was busy with tour plans on his phone.

“Ai yeah, that’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Thanks Bobby, I’l see you in a few months y/n, yeah ?”

She just behave a nod before pulling up her suitcases’ handles. As she went to pick up her duffle off the floor, another hand met hers, a slightly bigger and callous one. She looked up to meet the bright blue eyes of Inhaler’s bassist and hugely her face go even redder.

“Urm…”

“Don’t worry love, I think I can handle a bag for you.”

He gave her a smile again and she knew if Anais was here she’d be eating up every second of this like Corrie.

#inhaler x reader #inhaler #inhaler x fem!reader #inhaler x hewson!reader #robert keating x hewson!reader #robert keating x fem!reader #robert keating #robert keating x reader #elijah hewson #elijah hewson x sister!reader #bobby keating #bobby skeetz #Bobby Keating x reader #musicians x reader

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rallentando1011 · 2 months

Text

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 3676

(alright, we’re getting into some good stuff now ;) hope you enjoy!)

Three weeks.

Three weeks had passed since you first encountered that purple clad turtle, give or take.

And they were a blur of fighting and parties and studies and a library and coffee and him.

Donnie, the centrifuge that had been the catalyst of the whirlwind that had become your life. Well, technically his brothers, April, and the rest of the gang were also at fault, but he was the main culprit. The superfluous amount of meetings you’d had with him in your short time knowing him, his intriguing disposition, the whole situation had made it quite easy for him to work his way up to being one of your favorite people.

It had been a few days since you’d seen him. It had also been a few days since you’d left the fortress of your home. Following the hectic event and subsequently less wild ones of last week, you deserved a few days’ break.

But it was time to get back into the fray.

You forced yourself up from where you had been lounging on your bed, prying your eyes away from the ceaseless social media scrolling you had subjected yourself to.

Blinking your sleepiness away, you thought about what you had to do: eat something, first of all, get some water and whatever prescriptions you needed, then message that confounded turtle about his progress on that invention.

Call yourself curious, but you just had to see it in its completion. Also, you were desperately bored. Why not get your social interaction and entertainment in one stop, kill two birds with one stone?

You pulled up the chat you currently had with him but paused before you typed a word.

Sure, texting got the point across, but you were looking for a quick answer, not a typical, joining-the-conversation-hours-later Donnie answer.

Would a call work better in this scenario?

Of course, calls kind of sucked to do, solely because of the whole talking aspect, but it could be quicker. And if he didn’t respond, then you could just send a text.

You clicked his contact and the button to call him, holding your breath momentarily afterward. Hopefully it wasn’t too weird. You meant, you’d never called him before, so maybe you would look like an absolute maniac for calling him now over something so trivial. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea-

“Hello?”

You startled at the sound of a voice over the phone. He’d already answered. No going back now.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you responded as smoothly as possible.

“... Fine? You called?”

“Yeah.”

The conversation fell silent until he spoke up.

“May I know what for?”

“Right! Yeah, sorry, I was just curious about that whole mystic gem-finding situation. Did you find one yet?”

“I have yet to locate and secure any that aren’t currently in use. The project’s also been on the backburner with lair repairs; segue, do you know how many microwaves Leo can break in a week?”

You snickered, though you quickly worked back out of that tangent. “Dude, isn’t your dad- er, wait, your father some kind of alchemist? He probably has something you could use.”

“He likely does. However, we have what one might call a strained relationship.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about that if you don’t want to-’

“Me and my brothers destroyed his lab and he threw Leo off of a roof.”

“Oh.”

You two went quiet once more. He also broke the silence once more.

“Never mind that, let’s focus on the task at hand: how to obtain a sought-after gem.”

“By destroyed, do you mean made a mess of or..?”

“Absolutely decimated it.”

“Right,” you nodded slowly. “So is it abandoned, and, follow up, would it still have any resources left?”

“Not likely. Scavengers, and Draxum himself, probably made certain that anything valuable was taken care of. But, we could potentially check it out.”

“Hmm, ‘we’?” you asked innocently enough, save for a teasing inflection in your hum.

“Yeah, ‘we’. Unless you’re not interested, which is totally within bounds-”

“I’m free Thursday and Friday, either before noon or at, like, ten,” you cut him off. His surprise was discernible by how quiet he went for a solid ten seconds.

“Right, yeah, Friday works,” he finally conceded. “Would Friday at 23:00 work for you?”

Seriously? Military time? What a punk. “Translate into normal time talk and then you’ll get an answer,” you quipped.

“No need to be rude. Does eleven sound better to your inconsiderate self?”

“Much. And eleven works. Where’re we meeting?”

“Fret not. I’ll send the location.”

Come Friday, following the address brought you to the shadiest place you’d been since April took you into the sewers last week.

Man, your friend group was a whole situation.

The area itself was fine. Domestic, contemporary homes and apartments in a congested neighborhood, standard New York living arrangement. Your dubiousness, however, stemmed from the particular location: a horribly lit, uninhabited, possibly abandoned construction site.

Actually, it would probably be weirder for him to ask to meet you in a normal location with street lights.

You sent a quick text to Donnie, informing him that you were there and possibly telling him to hurry his shell up before stepping into the.dirt-coated lot. As you moved deeper into the area, you noticed a silhouette propped against the side of a big metal container. You squinted at the turned away figure, trying to make out any features.

Typing vigorously, wearing an oversized purple hoodie, hunched over their phone- okay, yeah, that was Donnie.

You quickly made your way over to him, leaning next to him on the container with a loud, metallic thud.

“Hey there, pal,” you grinned, a visible puff of air exiting your lips. Boy, was it cold.

He lackadaisically lifted an eyebrow at you as he finished typing something up on his phone. “Salutations. And refrain from calling me pal; we’re not pals.”

Donnie placed his phone and hands into his hoodie pocket and started making his way further into the shadows underneath the structure of steel beams and bars. You followed suit.

“What are we then?” you prompted playfully.

“Acquaintances.”

“Really? I don’t think people who are just acquaintances travel to literal mystic cities or even the sewers with each other.”

“Well, if you are so well versed on the classifications of relationship statuses, what do you consider us to be?”

“Friends, probably,” you shrugged.

“Probably?” he asked as he started to use a pin from his pocket to draw an unfamiliar insignia on an oddly placed brick wall.

You rested your hands on your hips. “I mean, thinking statistically about it, we’re probably friends.”

“In what universe does statistics have anything to do with this situation?”

“Ion’ know. You’re supposed to know about the science-and-math-y stuff. I’m just moral support.”

“No, you’re just throwing mathematical terms around haphazardly!” he exclaimed, gesticulating with his free hand.

“I probably am.”

His eye twitched. Before he could iterate his disdain for your insolence, the design he traced on the wall began to emit an electric blue shade. A static buzz entered the air, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling around you. Not comforting, though. It was reminiscent of the portals you’d encountered just last week.

Abruptly, a swirling amalgamation of light and energy came forth before you, small bursts of lightning zapping periodically.

Huh. You were right. Portals.

“Does this lead to that lab?” you asked, peering at it curiously.

“What do you say we find out?” Donnie gave a lazy grin before coolly stepping backwards into the portal.

You gawked. The audacity of this man to invite you adventuring and then leave you high and dry was astronomical.

That left you with two options: get out of there and have a cozy night in or follow him into a suspicious portal. Which, come on, you already knew what you were going to do: tail that turtle and make him rue leaving you behind like that.

With a roll of your eyes, you stepped, or fell, more so, into the portal, and that’s when things went loopy.

Your surroundings melted into a zero gravity tunnel of blue, insides churning in a manner akin to the swarm of colors around you. Everything looked distorted, warped into only sensations, and after moments of free fall and whiplash and weightlessness you plopped rather unceremoniously onto a brick path.

Somehow, the area you ended up in was even loopier than that.

For starters, the sky was a washy mix of apricot and slate and a golden color. Next up, and quite likely most pressingly, was the gigantic structure sitting before you. A short, rocky path trailed up to a floating cylindrical building, the size of which rivaled every building you’d ever seen in New York. The building was bathed in green light, had a balcony- and did you mention FLOATING?

“Holy-” You couldn’t help but go slack-jawed, earning a smug expression from the turtle.

“Mmhm.”

“Where are we?” You looked at the vast area behind you, the fiery orange sky littered with floating edifices and vessels and creatures of all varieties.

“Welcome to the Hidden City, my associate-”

You interjected, “-friend-”

“-entourage,” he corrected with the raise of an eyebrow.

You let it slide, not looking to lower your status any more. “Touché. Continue.”

“The Hidden City, a subterranean city-state far beneath New York City and home to the laboratory of former warrior-alchemist Barron Draxum,” Donnie introduced with a flourish of his hands.

You released an amused puff of air. “You feel good about letting out your inner theater kid?”

“I feel great, actually. But there’s no time to dwell on that. Onward, to exploration!”

He was really in full theatrics tonight, but you didn’t mind indulging. Lightly shaking your head at him, you joined him in moving up the path to the towering golden archway at the front of the building.

The door opened creakily, unsturdy on its hinges, shedding light on a decrepit, dust-ridden foyer. Large tapestries and artworks strewn about the halls were coated so thickly in dirt they almost couldn’t be made out. You shot him an uncertain look.

“Like I said, don’t keep your hopes up,” was all Donnie said in response before continuing down the dim corridor. You stalled, still weary about the condition of the building, before swiftly catching back up with him.

As you worked your way into the dark, desolate lab, Donnie lectured you on safety precautions. “Don’t touch anything unless it seems nonlethal and productive. Actually, just don’t touch anything.”

“So, I can’t open any drawers or anything?” you sassed.

He deadpanned. “You know what I mean.”

“Semantics matter, D.”

“Not really- fine, whatever. Let’s get to exploring,” Donnie conceded, excitedly flicking his goggles down with a smirk.

It was an instinct, really, that you clasped a hand over your mouth and terribly concealed a laugh upon seeing his goggle-covered eyes.

He stared at you blankly. “What?”

You waved your hand in front of you to dismiss yourself. “I’m sorry- I’ve just never seen you in the goggles.”

“I’ve worn them during every interaction of ours.”

“No, I mean like on your eyes. It makes them look all beady.”

“Wow. I appreciate that.”

You quickly defended yourself. “In a good way! It’s not bad, just different.”

“Ah yes, ‘beady in a good way’. I’ll log that one in the books.”

“Seriously, I thought they looked cute.”

He looked taken aback, lips pursed and face warm at that assertion.

“Not like that. Like an objective kind of cute.” You shook your head in disbelief at the words you were spewing. “Actually, nevermind. Forget I said any of that.”

“Agreed.” He rolled his eyes and set to work scanning shelves and drawers for any traces of the mysticism you were pursuing. For his sake, you didn’t mention how the pink tint on his face didn’t disappear until minutes into your guys’ search.

The search ended up unsuccessful. Sure, while scouring shelves and cabinets and odd cages around the spacious laboratory you found a whole lot more than you would expect in an abandoned building - elements in sealed jars, flasks of what seemed to be potions or ingredients - but nothing close to a crystal or gem.

After working your way around the room, you looked up at Donnie.

He shook his head and walked over to you. “It appears the lab’s a bust for any type of crystal. Not a total loss, though.” He held up a container labeled ‘emp.’ before one of the mechanical hands from his battle shell stored it for him. Another of the hands gave your shoulder a reassuring pat.

You shook your head. “No, we’re getting you a crystal, man.” You paused, thought of an alternative. “Are there any stores or markets nearby that might have them?”

“Ohmigosh, you are just full of great ideas.” You and Donnie began moving back toward the front.

He sounded like he might have meant that, but his voice was still startlingly monotonous. You narrowed your eyes, put your head askew. “For real?”

“Yes, this time,” the turtle nodded before excitedly gliding back down the entrance’s stairs.

You laughed, following along. “This time?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes.”

You caught up to him and landed a firm, still playful jab to his side.

“Just stop yapping and take us there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what felt like eons of continuous motion, you two made it onto the streets of the Hidden City.

Brightly colored banners, advertisements, decorations, adorned lampposts all up and down the streets, though you avoided certain battle-themed ones. Multitudes of languages and dialects could be heard all around. The smells of delectable foods wafted through the air, sweet, savory, spicy, but you couldn’t pay them any mind. You were on a gem-hunting mission. Even if it wasn’t going very well currently.

The merchant running a crystal stand was slumped over on their counter, boredly staring at the customers that had been occupying their business for minutes on end without making a choice i.e. you and Donnie.

You raised an index finger at a particular pretty purple gem sitting in a pile of other ones on the counter of the stand.

Donnie flicked on his goggles and shook his head. “Uh, no. Not remotely. We’re looking to avoid overcurrent; that thing has enough mystic mojo to wipe out half the city.”

You slowly placed it down. “Oookay then. Glad to be of service,” you muttered.

He pursed his lips at your interesting body language. Slumped shoulders, hints of dejection in your voice - you weren’t having fun. Maybe it was because he immediately turned down the last five of your suggestions, but who could definitively say why?

“The issue is that you keep grabbing crystals that emit cool colors, which, as you know from the electromagnetic spectrum, correlate to a higher frequency. We don’t want that. So, as much as I would enjoy a violet crystal to match my ambience, something with a less vibrant, warmer hue works best.”

You slowly digested what he just said. Cautiously, your hand crept back to the merchant’s display and selected an auburn gem.

“That one’s frequency is too low-”

“Of course it is.”

“-but you’re on the right track! Try a little further down the electromagnetic spectrum-”

“What, something like this?” You gestured toward an amber gem that was near the bottom of the pile, exasperated.

Donnie hummed. “Actually, yeah. That’s just fine.”

“Really?”

“Shhh,” Donnie waved a hand telling you to calm down before pulling you aside. “There’s no fixed price on the signs here. If we seem too excited or gullible-”

“We get duped?” you guessed.

“We get duped. So stay cool, and let me handle this.”

Donnie cracked his knuckles and turned back to the stand, professionally ready to bargain and deal with the price.

He still ended up paying a ridiculous price for the small gem’s size, but you didn’t know if you’d ever seen him grin so proudly, so you didn’t say a word about it.

The first time you spoke up after the deal was made was after passing by a food cart and hearing your stomach rumble.

Donnie almost kept walking without you before you loosely clasped onto his wrist.

Puzzled, he turned back to you.

“Would you want to get something to eat? Like, while we’re down here,” you asked.

He pursed his lips. Just as he opened his mouth to retort or deny the requests, you were both hit with a wave of the most scrumptious food you’d smelled probably in your entire life.

“Okay, you have to admit that smell is heavenly,” you looked at him knowingly.

“I don’t have to do anything, but those do look fire.”

You gave him the best pleading look you had, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he caved in.

“Alright, we can take a quick detour from the exit.”

“Heck yeah! You rock, no correlation to geology,” you winked, adjusting your grip from his wrist to his hand so that you two wouldn’t get separated from you charging through the crowd.

And charge through that crowd you did.

Donnie in tow behind you, you bounded through the crowd excitedly, scarcely avoiding collisions all over.

However, the complaining Donatello in hand and sweating were inconsequential compared to being in line for a brand new type of culinary experience.

You were practically buzzing with joy, so excited that you momentarily forgot to relinquish Donnie’s hand. You still did though, just a moment shy of awkwardness.

You had made a good deal, had good company, and were about to have good food. What more could you want?

Still beaming, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket and pulled it out.

The smile on your face quickly receded as you checked who was calling.

“Just a moment, I need to take this,” you muttered before slipping out of line and off through the crowd.

Donnie froze. He didn’t like the fact that whoever called seemed to ruin your mood, nor the idea of you being alone in an entirely unfamiliar city.

Reluctantly, he relinquished his spot in line - which was painfully close to the front, might he add - to find you.

It took a moment of weaving left and right, dodging up and down through a flurry of wings and tails for him to find the space between two buildings that you had moved yourself into.

Not wanting to intrude, he stood right outside the small alley, listening in by a complete coincidence. Certainly not out of nosiness in the slightest. Nope.

Anyway, he only got close enough to hear you mid-sentence.

“-you serious? Now, I don’t know if your section of New York is in a different time zone, but for me right now it is way too dark and way too late to be calling for conferences.”

A pause. Scraggly sounds faintly sounded from the other side of the call, not that he could make out an inkling of it. You, on the other hand, understood it all too well.

“Obligatory? Yes, I know what obligatory means, I just find the notion of a required meeting kinda dumb- Sorry, I mean extremely dumb.”

Another pause of you presumably getting chewed out passed before you, begrudgingly, grumbled, “Ugh, if you insist. Be there later.”

The phone call ended after that, and Donnie had no clue what to do.

Walking in normally could make it seem like he was eavesdropping, which he was but he didn’t want you to know that, but he couldn’t just stand still either.

After some careful contemplation, Donnie looked around and stumbled (definitely not purposefully) into the alley you were in. He seemed somewhat concerned; he hadn’t seen you that perturbed before.“Is everything alright?” he muttered vaguely, not wanting to overstep.

“Just yelling at my… mother’s urn- Anyway, once again, I have really got to go, this has been really fun, we should do this again sometime, am I missing anything else?” you joked lightheartedly. Thankfully the mood, along with Donnie, followed your attitude shift.

“I feel like a ‘thanks, you’re the best’ may be due,” your companion urged jokingly.

“Thanks Donnie, you’re the best.”

He huffed. “Kidding. I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

For a probably too long moment, he made eye contact with you and your startlingly genuine eyes. Eventually, he tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “... Let’s get you back to the surface.”

The trip back to the site of the portal was mostly silent, just the two of you trekking shoulder to shoulder through crowds of characters, before you entered the vertigo-inducing light once again.

The wind bit harshly at you as soon as you landed back on New Yorkian ground, an unkind reminder of the end of your adventure.

You blew a puff of warm air onto your hands and almost started walking on instinct before Donnie spoke, reminding you of his presence.

“Are you alright going back on your own?” he questioned quietly, almost coyly.

“I mean, I made it here on my own. I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Oh. Okay,” he concurred with a nod before giving you a pair of thumbs up. “In that case, make it home safely. Text you later?”

“Later,” you agreed emphatically. With one more nudge of his arm and a pivot in the other direction, you were off, out of the construction zone, on the sidewalk, down the street.

As you moved toward your destination, the skyscrapers and towering structures lining your path grew taller, more opulent, more lavish. Insignificant residentials morphed into substantial, old money commercials. Your heart rate climbed.

You paused in front of the grand doors of your location and took a deep, steadying breath. It was just some quick business you had to take care of. Brief. Inconsequential. Everything would be fine.

With some renewed confidence, or at least some semblance of it, you pulled on the handle and swiftly entered the hotel’s lobby.

The door closed thickly behind you with a thud.

Resonate. Absolute. Irrevocable.

(Artwork for part 5)

Taglist ~

@rottmntsimp

@envyjmoney

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise season 3 #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #rise donatello x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #soulmates #part 5

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staytheword · 2 years

Text

in flames

in flames — part two of the smell of roses [ ← part one → part three ] [ series masterlist ] [ playlist ] [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors do NOT interact!! no real people are represented.

• lee know x female reader / changbin x female reader / lee know x female reader x changbin (NOT a love triangle), all other stray kids members are featured but not main characters.

• non idol au, bikers au, rivals to lovers au, small town au. inspired by sons of anarchy. (not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes/typos)

• word count: 14k (14,679)

• warnings: mentions of all sorts of illegal activities. corruption and blackmail. a lot of drinking (sometimes excessive). swearing and insulting. drug consumption (weed only). anger management problems. pyromania. mental health issues. mentions and depictions of violence. bar fights. mentions of blood, broken bones, stabbing and general violence. threatening. motorcycle pursuit. guns and gunfire (no wounds). polyamory. smut. fingering, dirty talk, slight voyeurism (hearing only), mentions of "sharing," use of pet names, making out with multiple people.

He’s put down his spoon, his elbows on the table, and is looking at you like he’s two seconds away from killing you – but you’re starting to understand that’s just his face.

• taglist: @upallnight-s ; @ughbehavior ; @changbinluvr ; @valreadsfics ; @ppiri-bahng ; @mchslut ; @lady---boner ; you? (let me know if I forgot you, I lost my post-it note with your usernames)

The drugstore is quiet, which you are grateful for, because you can grab the morning after pill somewhat discreetly, although everyone knows everyone in this town. At least, the pharmacist is a woman you’ve never seen judge anyone, so you pay for your purchase and escape without a word.

Once you’re outside, you breathe in the morning air. The breeze is chilly, the sun warm. It’s a beautiful day for being in complete denial of what you’ve done.

You don’t regret fucking Lee Minho.

You regret fucking the president of the Vices Motorcycle Club.

As if they are two different people.

You’ve woken up determined not to erase what happened from your memory, but not acknowledging it either. It was good – great, even – but now you can move on.

Right?

You have a message from Seungmin telling you an order is ready for you at the hardware store, so you stop by once you finish work. You’ve been alone all day, feeling both exhausted and fearful, grateful that you didn’t have to explain your mood to your father. Oh, what’s up? Not much, Dad. Just let my greatest enemy fuck me senseless in his clubhouse last night. The usual.

Well. Of course it sounds bad when you say it like that.

“Hey, Min,” you smile when you enter the shop.

You expect him to give you his usual smile, but he avoids your eyes. “Hey.”

Without another word, he bends, grabs a bag and puts it on the counter.

“Your order. I’ll add it to your tab.”

He’s still not looking at you.

You take a step forward, taking the bag between your fingers.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

His eyes stay focused on the form he’s filling, his jaw clenched, his face closed. Something’s wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is sharp and angry.

“Seungmin…”

He clenches his fists, seemingly trying to stay calm. Your heart is squeezed so tight in your chest it hurts. Your friend is angry at you. Really angry. And you don’t know why.

You hope it’s not what you think.

“Did I do –”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” he finally snaps, looking up at you. His eyes break your heart – dark and resentful. They pin you to the spot.

“What –”

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t spend the night at the Vices’ clubhouse last night.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry. Oh no.

“Yeah,” Seungmin chuckles bitterly. “You really thought no one would notice? That no one would see you? It’s all over fucking town. I had to hear it from my mother.”

Your cheeks burn with shame. “Min, I…”

“How did you think I felt hearing her tell me that you, my friend, the one who was always the first to support me in hating these guys, spent her evening cuddled up with their president, drinking beer and watching a goddamned movie?”

“I was going to tell you,” you mutter, shaking. “I can explain. It just happened, it…”

Seungmin sighs. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses.”

“Please just hear me out. Minho invited me, and I –”

Seungmin’s eyes widen and you realize that is the worst thing to say.

“Minho?” he repeats.

You bite your lip. You feel it slip it out of your hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“This must be a fucking joke. Are you friends now?”

The thing you hate the most about yourself is that you’re an open book. So of course your friend reads it on your face. Of course he does.

“Wow,” he lets you, his voice completely flat, and it’s even worse than the anger. “Are you… Are you fucking him?”

“Seungmin,” you plead pathetically.

“You know what these guys did to my mother, how scared she is, and you do that? Above all things, you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I told you, it just happened, and it didn’t mean anything, I swear,” you cry out.

“Get the fuck out of my shop.”

His voice is ice cold. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Get your shit,” he enunciates, “and leave.”

You look into your friend’s eyes, but there is nothing. You feel his disgust, his spite, his disappointment – and each is a digger sinking into your already bleeding heart. You know it’s useless to argue. You don’t have any excuses.

So you look away, and then you walk away, avoiding the sight of your reflection in the shop’s window as you go along it.

Hyunjin calls your name, but you ignore him. You throw a middle finger behind you and keep walking. Your steps are far from straight, but you don’t care.

You’re too drunk to care about anything, which was the whole point.

It’s bitter cold outside and you’re not dressed for it, because you barely feel it. All you know is you have to find a place that will serve you alcohol, since Rossi’s will not. You’ve been there for the past hours, asking for drink after drink until Hyunjin started to glare at you, only to eventually say you’ve had enough.

You managed to argue for another one but then he had shaken his head. I’m getting you home. You snarled at him. No.

Who cares, anyway?

You didn’t have anything.

You didn’t have anyone.

You were a mess.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin calls again. He’s stepped outside the bar and watches you go. He can’t follow you – he’s the only one on the clock tonight – but you know he’s hesitating.

As you keep walking away, you hear the faint sound of his voice, but it’s not addressed to you. Maybe he’s calling someone. Ha. Joke’s on him – no one will want to come and get you. You don’t care.

You stumble through town until you finally get to another bar. You rarely go there because it’s not really your crowd – they don’t have the liquors you like and instead of the music you can hear at Rossi’s, they show sports matches. It seems like it’s football night because the place is crowded, but you push through the crowd until you get to the bar, where you ask for a drink.

You down two shots of whiskey and ask for a beer. You’re not a football fan, you don’t even know what teams are playing, but you still cheer with everyone else. A few guys invite you to their table, and you let them pay for another drink.

One has his arm around your shoulder. You faintly recall he’s a construction worker – not like you care who he is. He gives you attention and you relish in it, playing hard to get. He leans towards you and slides his hand on your thigh, which he rubs not so gently, and you’re so deep in your self-hatred you consider letting him do whatever he wants to you.

It’s not like you want to feel something.

Quite the opposite.

His lips are on your neck, and you smell his breath and you close your eyes.

“What the fuck?” someone close to you says. “What are they doing here?”

Your eyes flutter open, the guy against you pressing himself against your ass.

“Dude, I think…”

A hand grabs the guy by the collar. Another collides with his nose – it snaps in a loud noise. You blink, unstable on your feet.

You’ve seen this scene before – except last time, Minho just let Jisung go.

He doesn’t this time.

There’s blood and screams and crunching noises.

It’s not just Minho, it’s a bunch of them, all in their leather vests, fighting against the thigh-guy and his friends. You see him, his silver hair a mess, fists tight in anger, blood sprayed on his beautiful face.

Changbin crushes a guy’s skull against the bar.

Chris is fighting two guys at once and winning.

Jisung shatters a bottle against someone’s head and is shoving the shards in his chest.

You stagger and someone holds you up. Felix.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice deep, guiding you gently towards the exit.

You can’t comprehend a single thing that is happening – but you follow him outside, squeezing his hand so hard you’re sure you’re hurting him. From up close, you see he has long eyelashes and so many freckles you keep losing count.

You both enter a car. A taxi, you imagine. You don’t notice.

“Felix,” you slur, slumped against him. “Felix.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Why do you like fire so much?”

You’re not articulate in the slightest and you wonder how he understands you, but he does. He chuckles.

“Because it’s alive.”

You stare back at him. “That’s beautiful.”

He smiles. “I agree, Y/N.”

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Home.”

“Ugh,” you groan. “I don’t want to.” You start to struggle against him, but he just chuckles.

“Not your home, Y/N. Ours.”

You’re surprised but strangely delighted, so you stop arguing. Instead, you start asking Felix questions about fire – how long it takes for this or that to burn, what is his favorite thing to set fire to. It’s not a long ride, or maybe it is, you have no idea. Felix doesn’t even pay the taxi, if it even is one, and helps you out of the car.

A small house stands in front of you. It looks modest and even desolate but still cozy. You head towards the house, and Felix holds you up and it’s a good thing because your legs barely work, your brain even less.

“Will you show me a fire trick?” you ask him.

“I have to get you to bed first, otherwise the boss will be mad.”

“Ooh,” you chuckle mischievously. “We wouldn’t want him to get mad, right?”

Felix shares a knowing look with you. He guides you inside the house, which is plunged in darkness, so you don’t see anything. You just stumble through the corridors and doors until Felix helps you sit on a bed. You bring your legs against you, rubbing your eyes.

“What happened back there?” you ask.

Felix shrugs. “Just some scores that needed settling. Nothing to worry about.”

“Did you know I was there?”

“Yeah,” Felix answers carefully. “Hyunjin said you might need a lift home.”

You gasp loudly. “You know Hyun?”

“Everybody knows everyone in this town, Y/N. You should know that.”

“Yes, but how?”

Felix indulges you, playing with his pack of matchsticks. He tells you the old story of how he met Hyunjin. He had just lost his parents in a car accident. Hyunjin’s parents owned the funeral place, and they had talked a lot the day of the burial. Hyunjin had been the one to tell him all the right things. They stayed good friends, though they didn’t talk every day.

When he’s done, you have tears running down your cheeks. “That’s so beautiful. I’m so sorry about your parents…”

“That’s ok, Y/N. It was years ago.”

“My dad must be so ashamed of me,” you moan, sobs shaking your shoulders.

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?”

You’re not sure that advice applies to Temperance, but you’re too drunk to realize it. Instead, you smile at Felix.

“Let’s play with fire together.”

You both sit down on the floor, and he brings a variety of things to show you how fast they burn. You’re both giggling like teenagers when the front door of the house opens to let in a few people, their heavy boots making the floorboards shake.

“Felix?!” a voice calls.

“Here, boss.”

He stands up just in time for Minho to appear, but although you’ve sobered up, you’re still too drunk to move quickly – Felix’s speed almost makes you dizzy.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Minho asks.

“Just – I was –”

“I told you to get her in bed,” Minho hisses.

“She kept talking to me,” Felix mutters. “Besides, she’s here safe, right? That’s what you wanted. We were just talking.”

You had forgotten about the matchstick you were holding, and the burn stings your finger before you let it go.

“Aouch, FUCK,” you snarl.

“Safe, huh?” Minho says.

Felix bows his head, but Minho only sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Yongbok. You can go.”

A second later you are alone with Minho – he crouches next to you.

“Hey, Trouble.”

You smile drunkenly at him, pointing at his cheek. “You have something here.”

“That’s called blood.”

You pout. “Ew.”

“Be grateful it’s not brains.”

He says it lightly, and his face looks so gentle, it’s a brutal contrast with the blood on his cheeks and fingers, that you notice as he cups your cheek.

“Are you okay?”

“Fantastic,” you answer.

“Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure – but you’re very drunk – that it’s the first time he’s called you by your name. Not Trouble. Not doll. Your name.

You bite your lip. “It should feel like a mistake,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t.”

“Life’s too short for regrets, doll,” he says. “Your true friends will come around.”

You look up at him, eyes burning with exhaustion and tears. “Is everyone okay?”

“Jisung got a nasty cut, but he’ll be fine. Don’t worry about him.”

“And Changbin?” you ask.

Minho smiles. “Changbin’s fine.”

“Okay.”

After a second, he takes you gently in his arms, lifting you up. He helps you remove your shoes and your clothes – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before, anyway. He hands you a t-shirt, which feels soft against your skin, and you lay down in bed afterwards, slipping under the covers, and he strokes your hair.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

“Hm?”

“This is my room.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “So this is the squeaky bed?”

With a mischievous smile, you start to rock your body – and just as expected, the bed squeaks, the headboard slamming into the wall. You snicker.

“That’s very loud.”

“Told you,” he says with a wink, closing the lamp on the bedside table.

You instinctively close your eyes, and the darkness almost instantly puts you to sleep – you’re just conscious long enough to feel a kiss on your forehead, and in response, you whisper Minho’s name and wish him good night.

When you open your eyes in the early hours of the morning, you are not alone. There is a warm body against yours, an arm around your hips, a breath against your neck. The blinds are drawn, but pale light pierces through enough for you to see around you. You blink, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your mouth opens in a yawn, and you slowly turn on your back.

Minho is still asleep, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a tangled mess in front of his eyes. His mouth is slightly open, letting you glimpse at his cute teeth – he looks so young. So kind. So beautiful.

He takes your breath away.

You would have thought you’d be bothered to wake up next to him, but you’re really not. You even find yourself smiling fondly, playing with his hair a little. His hand has fallen on your stomach, warm and heavy. His arm is still bandaged from the other day. His scar is pink, and you want to kiss it. Like you, he’s dressed – it’s weird to see him in just a plain t-shirt, though. His bed is not very big, so you have no choice but to stay close. You take a few seconds to look at him, trying really hard not to let your thoughts wander, but it’s hard.

You used to see the leather cut, and the leather cut only.

Then you saw Lee Minho, president of the Vices.

Now, you just see Minho – and yet, he’s all of those things at once.

It’s silly. There’s no future with Minho. You don’t even want that – he just makes you feel good right now. Not an old lady type of guy, he said.

You need to go. You need a glass of water, something to eat, and a shower. You’re working this afternoon. You have a life to get back to.

Sort of.

You think about your father. About Seungmin. About Hyunjin.

What do they think of you?

Not much, you tell yourself.

You inhale slowly, chasing the thoughts from your head. You can’t apologize for who you are. You’ll apologize for the hurt you’ve caused them because you feel awful about it. But you can’t be sorry for who you are, as messed up as that person is.

Gently, you take Minho’s hand to put it aside so you can leave the bed, but when it’s barely in the air, his fingers sprawl around yours and clutch them.

“Hmm.”

He guides your hands, intertwined, towards his lips, and places a soft kiss on your fingers. It’s a good thing you’re laying down because your legs turn to melted butter.

“Am I pretty when I sleep?” he asks.

You scoff. “You look like a little bunny.”

“Bunnies are cute, aren’t they?” he says, his voice hoarse, opening his eyes slowly.

“Sometimes.”

He smiles lazily at you. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, I think.”

“I slept more than fine. That sweet ass was right against my dick, keeping it warm.”

You shake your head with a sigh, although there’s an obvious smile on your face. “You start early.”

“I just never stop.”

He was inches away from your lips, so it’s not a stretch or a surprise when he steals a kiss. You think you must look terrible, smell foul, but he clearly doesn’t care. His tongue slips into your mouth, curling against yours, and you can’t help but arch your back, wriggling closer.

“I have a question,” you breathe.

“You start early,” he teases.

“Your scar,” you ask. “What happened?”

He gives you a long look, but his smile doesn’t go away.

“It’s a long story, Trouble. I’ll tell you around a drink.”

You nod in agreement.

His hand leaves yours, slipping down your chest to grab your breast, teasing your nipple above the material. You shudder against his lips, breathing heavily, forgetting everything about what you should be doing. You love lazy morning sex, and Minho is offering you just that.

“When I came to bed last night,” he breathes, his other hand sliding inside your underwear to caress you. You hiss, bucking your lips. You hadn’t been particularly aroused, but his touch is making quick work of it. “And saw you there in my bed, your hair a mess, that sweet mouth of yours parted…” He slips a finger inside of you, tentatively, and you moan. “Fuck, I wanted to slide between your legs and wake you up by devouring you.”

“Minho…” You’re breathing hard. Your hand cups his ass before you start to stroke him above his boxers. He’s still soft, but you feel him harden against your touch.

“Maybe we can try it sometimes?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you agree, moaning softly.

“Or would you prefer waking up with my dick caressing you instead of my tongue? Once you’re awake, you can moan for me, and I’ll fill you.”

You’re hazy with sleep and your hangover and his words are making you lose control. He has a few fingers inside you now, and you’re soaked and in need of him – and so is he, by the way his length throbs in your hand.

“Do you have –”

You weren’t safe the other day – but this morning you need to be.

“As you wish, doll,” he nods.

He rolls over so he lays above you, sitting up to reach inside his bedside table drawer. He slips on the condom, raises one of your legs, and enters you. You gasp softly, your body adjusting, and he starts to roll his hips.

His bed is very noisy, but you hope it’s early enough so that his roommates won’t be bothered. You’re too into the moment to really care, anyway, your arms around Minho’s neck, his breath mingling with yours.

“That’s so good,” you whisper. “You fuck me so good.”

“Tell me, baby doll,” he sighs. “Tell me how much you like it.”

You do, in his ear, against his neck, around his lips. His thrusts are deep and measured, hitting you in all the right spots. His bed is like background music and you feel your mind unravel. You’re so close to coming, and you tell him not to stop. He grabs your chin, more gently than he has before.

“Look at me,” he whispers. “Open your eyes and look at me as you come around me.”

You’re lost in the daze but you manage to open your eyes, finding his wide open – they catch yours and hold you there. You can barely moan anymore, your breath caught in your throat.

Minho lifts your hips slightly, angling your body so he can go deeper, and that finishes you – you come like a roar of thunder after lightning strikes.

“God, that feels good,” he groans, slowing down just to accelerate again. His breath hitches, and he pulls out, stroking himself as he comes.

You let your head sink further into the pillow, your mind completely empty. Minho falls beside you, kissing your shoulder. You need a shower, you need to go home. But you just want to sleep again – and you do, just for a while, until the sun is bright and warm.

It’s a quiet life you’re living.

You wake up alone, go to work, come back to your apartment, and go to sleep alone.

Seungmin still doesn’t talk to you. Your dad and you avoid each other as much as you can. Only Hyunjin still feels like your friend, but you’re scared it’s just to keep an eye on you – so much you barely go to Rossi’s anymore.

You haven’t seen Minho in a while.

You heard he’s busy. The pick-up driver Changbin put in the hospital decided to press charges, another police department behind his back – apparently the beat-up happened out of Temperance lines – and it’s a whole mess.

Changbin is in jail, temporarily, until everything is figured out.

You don’t want to bother anyone.

But you’re worried.

About Minho. About Changbin. About all of them.

You hate the feeling.

Never were you supposed to get attached.

One night, you’re in tears, your body trembling from confusion and loneliness. You’ve inhaled some weed but the smoke just made it worse. You wander in your apartment but you grow too restless and can’t stare at the walls anymore. So you grab a hoodie and your keys and you seek refuge outside.

You want to see Seungmin. You want him to tell you, with this steady voice of his, that you’ll pull through. But your friend is out of reach.

So in the fog of self-doubt, your feet lead you to Hyunjin. You’re ashamed, but you still go. It’s late, and you look terrible, with your red eyes and your tear-stained face. You don’t care.

Hyunjin opens his door, wearing a tank top and boxers. From the state of his hair, you’ve pulled him out of bed. He rubs his eyes, frowning.

“Y/N?”

“Hey,” you say, voice breaking. “I woke you up, right?”

“It’s fine. Seo-ah is still asleep, though.”

You nod. “I’m sorry, I just…” You sigh. “Fuck, why am I here?”

You shake your head. You’re high, you feel sick, and you can’t stop crying. Hyunjin puts a hand on your shoulder, pulling you inside his apartment.

“Did something happen?” he asks, his voice tense.

“No, I just… I don’t…”

You let out a whimper, falling against his shoulder.

“I don’t feel so good, Hyun.”

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob quietly.

“Why are you sorry? C’mon, don’t be silly,” he asks, stroking his hair. “Sit down.”

You listen to him, and he sits with you. Instantly, you feel better - you just need someone to hold you.

After you calm down, he heats some food up for you, like he knows you haven’t eaten correctly in a while and talks with you as you eat. His eyes are stable. His presence is soothing. He calms your tears just by being here, and listens to you as you tell him everything. How you’re ashamed and not at all, how you miss Minho and not at all, how you wish for Seungmin’s forgiveness and not at all, because you don’t deserve it.

Hyunjin strokes your hair as you cry and tells you you’re not a bad person.

You wish you could believe him.

It’s only noon, and you have nothing to do.

Your father is taking care of the shop this afternoon, and he’s insisted you go home because you look tired. You didn’t have strength to argue with him, so you agreed.

Now you’re walking around town aimlessly, not wanting to go home, trying to resist going by the clubhouse to see if anyone’s there.

It’s been a while. Weeks.

You’re not sure.

As you walk, you inhale deeply, the sun warm on your face. You decide to stop and get yourself an iced coffee, and it helps with the headache – but it soothes nothing else.

You decide to head home for a nap when you spy blue hair ahead of you on the sidewalk.

Your heart clenches in your chest.

“Jisung!” you call, accelerating your step.

He keeps on walking, seemingly not having heard you, and he’s quick, so you have to speed up.

“HAN JISUNG,” you yell out, and finally he slows down and you’re able to catch up with him.

“Oh, Y/N,” he says. He’s not wearing his cut, which is odd. Just a white shirt and jeans – he looks strangely normal.

“Are you okay?” you ask him. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Any of you, you bite down.

“Right,” Jisung says, blinking excruciatingly slowly. “It’s been a little busy.”

“I heard…”

Jisung gives you a smile. “I have somewhere to be, but if you want to meet up later we can. I really need to get high.”

“You and me both,” you sigh. “Come to my place?”

You make plans for later, and although the knot in your stomach remains, it feels a little looser. Before you head home, you go to the grocery store, grabbing beer and snacks. You take a shower, change, and start pacing.

Jisung, of course, arrives 48 minutes later than the time he gave you, but you’re relieved to see him, to have company, you don’t even bring it up.

You sit on your couch, music playing in the background. He starts to fill his glass pipe and you munch on Cheetos.

“How is he doing?” you ask Jisung when he mentions Changbin.

He shrugs. “Okay, I think. Jail is no joke but we have friends there. Vice’ll be fine.”

He lifts his eyes to give you a smile.

“I’ll tell him you’re thinking of him. That ought to help.”

You slap Jisung’s shoulder so hard some weed spills on the ground.

“I swear if you say anything, Han Jisung…”

“Careful with the weed, dude,” he just chuckles, continuing his task.

You bite your lip. “What about Minho? He’s not in town, is he?”

“No,” Jisung says, shaking his head. “He’s laying low.”

“Like in a safe house?”

“Something like that.”

You moan, wriggling on the couch.

“C’mon, Ji, give me something.”

“If it is a safe house, then telling you about what would defeat the purpose, right? You ask too many questions.”

“Tell me about it,” you groan.

“He’s fine, Y/N,” Jisung grins. “Think about it this way. When he comes back, the distance will just make the sex better, right?”

You scoff at him, shaking your head.

“What happened to you, Ji?” you say. “Where have you been all those years? Will you ever tell me?”

“I would, but I barely remember it myself.”

You know he’s half-joking, but you decide not to insist. You don’t need to know, anyway - and you find it’s an enthralling thing about him for his past to remain a mystery. Instead, you start talking about random things, exchanging the pipe to take your hits. The weed is very good quality, so you feel yourself drift away quickly.

It’s a night of snacks, laughter and smoke.

You wake up the next morning, still on the couch, Jisung sprawled on the floor. He looks like a baby when he sleeps. You shake him slowly, just in case he has somewhere he needs to be. He sniffles, mumbling something about an appointment, and he leaves your apartment with his eyes only half open.

The next day, someone walks in the shop looking confused. It’s a delivery driver, and he’s holding a single rose. You recognize the name on his baseball cap - it’s a flower shop from a nearby town. You arch an eyebrow at him.

“Can I… help you?”

“Are you Y/N?” he asks, glancing at his phone.

“Yeah,” you say.

He shrugs, like he gives up on trying to make sense of the situation, and hands you the rose.

“Delivery for you.”

“You’re delivering flowers to a flower shop, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head. “Just doing my job.”

“Right. Thanks.”

You take the rose. It’s the color of blood, so dark it almost looks black. Its thorns are sharp. You glance at the label.

Heard you were worried.

Cute.

Don’t cause too much trouble without me.

You can’t hold back your smile.

It’s a beautiful night. A light breeze, an indigo sky.

You arrive in front of the Vices’ house. It’s as you remember, except all the lights are on, and you can hear faint music coming from inside. You walk slowly to the door, feeling strangely nervous.

Jisung wrote that morning.

Vice is getting out. We’re back. Party at 10.

It’s been weeks - and they almost feel like a dream. But you’re just happy to see them again, thrilled at the idea of being a little less alone.

You miss Minho. All of them, even. But mostly Minho.

You’ve dressed up a little for him. Fishnet tights, a black dress.

You’re pretty sure he’s going to like it.

The door opens on Jisung, who hurries you inside.

“We’re getting the cake,” he explains, guiding you into the living room. People are chanting something like happy you-got-out-of-jail-day and you find yourself joining them. You catch Minho’s eyes from across the room. He looks tired but happy. Relieved.

Changbin has a smile on his face when they place the cake in front of him – you’d never see him smile before and you think it really suits him. He looks even more tired than Minho, his hair is longer, the circles under his eyes dark. But he’s smiling.

There are no candles on the cake. Apparently Felix stole them all one night for an experiment and forgot to buy more.

Changbin chuckles, applauding with the rest. Then he looks up at you, and you give him a warm smile. He echoes it with a nod, eyes sparkling.

The crowd breaks around him and you just laugh with Jisung, who gets you something to drink, and you promise to share a few hits later. You stand there quietly, a few minutes later, when Minho walks up to you. His grin is mischievous.

“My little Trouble,” he says. “It’s good to see you.”

“How do I look?” you say, turning around to show the outfit you’ve carefully selected.

“Like a fucking treat.”

His hand slides across your thigh, softly stretching the fishnets you’re wearing.

“I can’t wait to rip those later.”

You laugh, and he throws an arm around your shoulder like you’ve seen each other only yesterday. You want to ask about the past weeks, but they are clearly in mind to celebrate, and you don’t want to ruin the mood – so you just let yourself be carried away by the festivities.

You drink a little, not too much – you want to keep your senses close to you. You still get a hit with Jisung as promised and then decide to cook mac and cheese with him, but you both forget to turn on the stove and the saucepan is quickly forgotten.

You’re squeezed between Felix, who is whispering to a giggly Cherry, and Minho. You mostly listen to their conversations, feeling both out of place and like you belong there. It’s an odd feeling, but you’re soothed by it.

Changbin is right in front of you.

There’s a new tattoo on his arm.

He keeps smiling.

You can’t help but stare at him. You don’t know what it is, but you’re hypnotized. There’s just something about him tonight you can’t get enough of.

It might be the way he’s holding the girl next to him, stroking her thigh.

You look at his fingers, the rings he has on them, and you suddenly imagine them in your mouth. Focus. The weed must be getting to you. You let out a giggle and try to focus on something else.

Time passes and you find yourself glancing at Changbin again – he and the girl have started making out. You’re just in time to see him grabbing her head and swirling his tongue inside her mouth, and you have to clench your jaw to stop your whimper from escaping your lips. Discreetly, you cross your legs, applying just a little bit of pressure. You’ve been a little touch starved, but damn. You need to get yourself together.

Luckily Minho never lets out of his grasp for long, either stroking your hair or softly caressing the skin inside the little squares of your fishnets. You have to promise you’ll be right back when you stand up to go to the bathroom.

The house is not too big so it’s easy to find your way around. You find the bathroom and grip the door’s handle – but you stop. Since the music is quieter here, you can hear faint noises coming from another room. You glare at said door. It’s unmistakable – the sighs, the moans, the thumping. People are fucking. You remember Changbin grabbing the girl’s hand and leading her away. Oh.

Oh.

You shouldn’t – you really shouldn’t, but fuck it, you still do. You approach the door on tiptoes, although you’re convinced they’re not going to hear you by all the noises they’re making. Well, her, mostly – but it seems like you can hear muffled groans that are more masculine than feminine. You put your ear against the door, listening. Faster, Vice, she says, and you bite your lip like your life depends on it.

You can’t resist. You listen.

She tells him to go harder. He slaps her skin – you can only guess where. When her moans start to annoy you, they suddenly get muffled, and you imagine Changbin’s hand around her mouth, quieting her. You close your eyes, your fingers going between your legs to just press your sensitivity.

“Really, Trouble? I didn’t expect you to be a voyeur.”

You spin around, both of your hands going on your hips, your face on fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m not,” you scoff. “I was just…”

Minho raises an eyebrow, approaching you slowly.

“…making sure no one was getting killed in there. Noises were weird.”

“Hmm, hmm,” he nods, stopping an inch away from your face.

“Turns out, she’s fine. Just fucking,” you chuckle.

Minho just stares at you, and you scowl.

“Fine,” you snarl. “So what? I was just curious.”

“Our Vice certainly seems to have caught your attention, doll,” Minho says. “Did something happen between you two? You’ve been thirsting on him all night.”

“Wha – I have not been –”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eyefuck him,” Minho sighs. “Pressing those little legs together. Your cheeks have been red all night.”

You slide your tongue against your inner cheek, but your shoulders roll back. It’s no use with Minho anymore. “Was I that obvious?” you admit in defeat.

“Not to the casual observer,” he shrugs. “But I keep a very concerned eye on you. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You play with your fingers, biting your lip.

“Does it… bother you?”

“That you’re interested in him?”

“You have cockblocked me twice before,” you sigh. “You said nobody touched what was yours.”

Minho laughs, pushing away a strand of your hair. He smells like burnt wood and whiskey. “That doesn’t apply to Vice. He’s the only one I can share with.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“No particular reason. It’s just like that.”

He leans towards you, starts kissing your neck, and you close your eyes although your mind is elsewhere. You could say you’ve forgotten how soft his lips feel against your skin, but that would be a lie. “So you… You wouldn’t…”

“Mind if you made a move on him? No, doll. By all means. I’m sure he’d oblige. We have similar taste in women and I caught him staring at your ass several times tonight.”

You sigh softly, leaning into him, your hands sliding against his waist to pull him closer. Then you realize what this could sound like, and you blush furiously, putting a finger on his chest to push him away – just enough so you can look at his face.

“Not that I need your permission to do anything,” you precise.

“I would never think that about you, doll. You’re like me – you go get what you want. So if you want Vice, go for it.”

“Maybe later,” you breathe. “Right now I need a fucking drink.”

“I wish you didn’t say that last word.”

You give him a slap on the chest. “Maybe later,” you repeat. “Besides, what are you doing here? I said I needed to pee.”

“I thought you might want company.”

“Jesus Christ, Minho, you’re like a cat. Leave me go to the bathroom alone.”

He moans, pouting slightly. He grabs your head, biting your shoulder. You gasp at the feeling. “I’m starving for you, doll. That body… those moans through your lips.”

His hands slide over your body.

“I want to fuck you over the bathroom sink.”

You shudder. You have to admit the noises coming from the next room have turned you on – and you haven’t seen Minho in a while, let alone had any action. Also, the thought of fucking right next door to Changbin excites you even more.

So you open the bathroom door and whisper to Minho to follow you inside.

“It’s, hm… It’s good to see you.”

You instantly regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late. Changbin raises his head to look at you from the other side of the table, his spoon hanging above his bowl of cereal. He’s not smiling anymore, but he feels less threatening. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent enough time with him – but you’re still scared. Even with his hair all over the place and his eyes not yet rubbed out of sleep, he looks like he could snap you in half and not blink. He just has that energy about him.

“Right,” he lets out eventually, but his voice sounds uncertain, like he didn’t know what to say.

You smile awkwardly at him, taking a bite from your toast. “You must be happy to be home.”

You have no idea why you’re trying to make conversation with Changbin of all people, but here you are.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Much better than jail.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “I can imagine.”

“Can you?”

You stare at him, frozen. He’s said it in such a low voice, almost threatening, and you’re terrified you’ve just said the worst thing possible, because of course you can’t imagine what he’s been through, or what jail is like, so you stammer – and then Changbin winks at you.

“Just fucking with you,” he states.

You close your mouth, which had been stupidly opened. You scoff. “Jerk.”

You’re not looking at him so you can’t be sure, but you’re pretty sure you spy a smirk on his lips – which he hides by taking a spoonful of cereal.

“I heard you asked about me.”

You feel your cheeks redden. “Who told you that?”

“Jisung.”

“That son of a bitch, I swear…”

“A part of me was expecting a visit.”

You eye him, arching an eyebrow. “Woah there. Wouldn’t go that far.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

He’s put down his spoon, his elbows on the table, and is looking at you like he’s two seconds away from killing you – but you’re starting to understand that’s just his face.

“I – nothing. Why?”

“I have to drive next town over for a spare part for my dad’s bike,” he explains. “You want to come with me?”

“By drive, you mean…”

“Have you ever seen me drive a car?”

You must admit he’s right.

“Sure,” you answer. “Why not. I close the shop at 6.”

“I’ll pick you up there.”

You open your mouth to tell him no, that you’ll meet somewhere else, because you don’t want people to see you, but you stop yourself. It’s useless, anyway. Not only are people going to find out anyway, but everyone already knows.

Once you’re done with breakfast, you head outside and walk back home. It’s a long way but you don’t mind – the sun warms your face, the breeze airing your neck. You've borrowed – well, stolen, you’ve decided – a t-shirt from Minho, so it doesn’t feel at all like a walk of shame. You’re just going home.

Home, with your heart strangely full.

When you step out of the shop, later that day, the breeze is gone and it’s just hot. You instantly start to sweat because of the humidity, and you’re grateful to only be wearing shorts and a light t-shirt. You turn to lock the door, making sure everything is secured, and as you do, the roar of an engine fills your ears.

Strange, how it no longer fills you with spite.

It almost makes you smile.

It almost soothes you.

Changbin slows down and stops his bike in front of you and you almost faint at the sight of him. Your throat dries, your legs wobble.

The arms.

Because Changbin is only wearing a tank top underneath his cut, his arms are entirely visible to you. Stretched on the handles, you can trace the lines of his muscles, lifelines dug into his skin. They outline the curve of a bicep, the angle of an elbow, and swerve all the way to his hands. You stare at his fingers, gripped around the handles, his usual rings shining in the sun.

His helmet covers his black hair. He’s wearing sunglasses.

And, for the love of heaven, he’s wearing leather pants.

Is he trying to drive you mad?

Because it’s working.

“Hi,” you say pathetically.

“Are you okay?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Is he chewing gum?

How can chewing gum be so attractive?

Is this a trap?

“Yeah,” you answer, your voice a little high-pitched.

“Do you have your sunglasses like I told you?”

“Yep.” You take them out of your bag and slip them on.

He tells you to put your stuff in the saddles and you do before you get on the bike. Your legs are shaking and you’re sure you’ll fall on your ass, but you make it there. Behind Changbin. Against him.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he says, and you nod.

You used to dislike motorcycles for the sake of it, because they were how the Vices drove around, because they reminded you of them. Now, you’re not so sure, because when Changbin says that, you think to yourself, I could stay here all night. You could drive me to the stars and back, and I’d never let go.

Changbin’s got his spare part, and you’re driving home. The night has fallen, the sky deep black. You’re driving on a scenic road, so there’s not much light except for the occasional streetlight. The asphalt trails alongside the mountains, and it smells like leaves, like wind, like leather. You breathe in tranquility, your cheek against Changbin’s back. Your hands are crossed around him. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of him in one of his rearview mirrors. He looks so peaceful.

He slows down suddenly and stops at a viewpoint, which is just a patch of unpaved road at a curve. He stops the engine, and you take the cue, getting off the bike. You shiver a little, because it’s colder now that the sun has set, and Changbin lays something heavy on your shoulders.

His cut.

You glance up at him in shock, but he doesn’t say anything - so, neither do you. You slide your arms through it.

You expect disgust, or even just a shudder, but there’s nothing.

The both of you walk to the rail, staring at the distance. There’s no noise except for the sound of the wind in the trees.

“Look up,” Changbin says to you, pointing to the sky.

You do - and as a cloud rolls away from another, you see a patch of pitch black, covered in tiny stars. It’s so beautiful it steals your breath, and you stare in awe. You’re silent for a few minutes.

“Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?” he simply states.

You find yourself nodding. “It really does.”

You turn to him, looking at his profile. He let his bike’s lights open, and they set dancing shadows upon his face. You’re so entranced, you forget to be reasonable, and soon he glances back at you. You don’t look away, though - you really can’t. He’s so different from Minho, and yet so similar. They’re like two sides of the same coin, you think to yourself. The arrogant and the angry.

The talkative and the silent.

You think about what Minho said.

We have the same taste in women.

A spark passes in your eyes. Changbin catches it.

His hand slides on your cheek. His rings are cold against your skin. You lift your heels to meet him halfway.

His lips are warm. You shiver against them, his other arm hugging your waist to urge you closer. Your hands grip his shoulders, and you sigh in his mouth as his tongue teases yours.

He leans you against the rail, but you’re not afraid of falling.

He’s holding you tight.

Your fingers drift on his arms, on his chest. His trace your ass. Your hips.

His mouth leaves yours. He breathes heavily.

You open your eyes to see him, jaw clenched, shaking his head.

“Is everything okay?” you ask in a small voice.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. Let’s not do this.”

He steps away, walks back to his bike. He doesn’t look angry, so you don’t ask if it’s your fault. You don’t feel like it is. You hope it isn’t.

You follow him carefully, taking the helmet you left on the seat to put it back.

“Now,” he says quietly.

“Huh?”

“I mean now. Let’s not do this now.”

You look at him, registering the words. It takes you a second, your heart faltering, before you put a prudent hand on Changbin’s arm.

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

He gives you a surprised look, then softens. After you give him a smile, he nods, and you drive away without another word.

He gets you home, and you thank him for the evening. Before you go, you put a kiss on his cheek.

It’s an extremely slow day at work, and you’re in no mood to be productive, so you’re on your phone scrolling at memes when Minho enters. You don’t even have time to welcome him, he just strolls to your counter, flashes a smile, and tells you he needs a modest but tasteful bouquet – and he’s in a hurry.

You show him to ones you’ve prepared. He takes the first, hands you a few bills and walks out without another word. You stare at his back, shaking your head. He’s exhausting, and you’re a little pissed he hasn’t asked you how you are, but your stupid face can’t help but smile.

Later that afternoon, you get a text from Seungmin and raise an eyebrow.

Mininie

Are you busy tonight? I need to talk to you

You

?? Sure. You want to get a drink?

Mininie

Rossi’s at 9

You agree to the plans, feeling both confused and anxious. There was no way Seungmin would’ve done that if it wasn’t important. You rack your brain, trying to think about what mess you’ve made recently, but there’s nothing that really stands out. You haven’t talked since the last time – you’ve left him alone like he promised. Should you have reached out? Is he mad you haven’t?

You groan, exhausted of yourself.

When you get to Rossi’s, Hyunjin is alone behind the bar. He nods towards a booth to his left, and you spy Seungmin’s brown hair. You approach him slowly, biting your lip.

“Hey,” you say once you’re standing in front of him.

He glances at you and you can’t read him and it’s making you nervous.

“Hey,” he replies. “Sit down.”

He waves at Hyunjin, pulling two fingers up.

“Two pints, Hyun.”

The latter nods and then gives you a glare – don’t fuck up, he seems to tell you. You want to pull your tongue at him but you feel that might be a little impolite to do in front of Seungmin.

“Min, listen, I know I should’ve…”

“Did you tell them something?” he says, cutting you off.

He doesn’t sound mad, but he doesn’t sound happy either. Your heartbeat accelerates.

“What? Tell who?”

“The Vices. Have you talked to them about my mom?”

You feel the blood drain from your face, and you stammer. “Wha – why are you – did something happen?”

“They visited her today. At her house.”

“What?”

“She called me as soon as she saw the bikes because she was scared,” Seungmin explains. “When I got there she was having tea with Lee Minho, a huge smile across her face.”

You try your best not to burst out laughing. “Tea?” you repeat.

Seungmin nods. “Tea.”

You bite your lips really hard, but you can’t hold it back. You can’t. It doesn’t help that even Seungmin seems seconds away from bursting out that loud laugh of his. A snicker escapes your lips, and you close your eyes, inhaling slowly.

Hyunjin appears right then, setting down two full beers on the table, eyeing you both for a few seconds before he quietly turns around.

You breathe out.

“She said he came to apologize,” Seungmin says after taking the first sip of his drink. “That he had never wanted to scare her, and they felt terrible about it. That they just wanted her to feel safe and protected – that it was the whole point of them being around.”

“Oh.”

“I thought to myself, it could just be a sudden change of heart, but he’d brought a bouquet of flowers with him, for my mom,” Seungmin adds, arching an eyebrow.

“What does that – oh. Oh.”

Seungmin nods. “So you see why I wanted to talk to you.”

You shake your head.

“Min, I swear. I never asked them to do that. I’m just as confused as you.”

It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts. You’ve only mentioned Seungmin to a handful of people, because you needed to talk about your falling out. Hyunjin. Jisung, a little. Where did it come from, though? You can’t be sure.

“I let him sweet talk my mom,” Seungmin says, his voice a little softer. “But I followed him outside and we had a little talk before he left.”

“Oh?” You ask, trying not to sound too interested – but you are.

“He’s completely insane, Y/N,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head. “You can’t trust someone like that.”

“I never said I trusted him,” you mumble, but it’s a weak retort.

“But he made some good points.”

You glance at Seungmin, who shrugs.

“I’m not saying I like him. I definitely don’t. But remember when you said they were not like you imagined? I kind of get that.”

“You do?”

Seungmin gives you a pointed look. “I’d never hang out with them like you do, I couldn’t, but talking with him… I see how you and him could hit it off.”

You don’t know what to say, so you can’t help but be a little arrogant.

“Aw, Minnie, are you giving me your approval?”

He glares at you and sighs deeply. “Like I just said. Two reckless shit stirrers.”

You chuckle and gently nudge his arm.

“Seriously, Min,” you say. “I’m really sorry. I was an idiot.”

“You still are,” he points out, and you have to agree.

You raise your pint towards him. “Cheers to that.”

“I heard when you spent some time with Vice.”

You and Minho are laying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your limbs. He’s beautiful, almost glowing, entirely naked except for the silver chain around his neck. You play with his silver hair, twirling strands around your fingers.

“Yeah, a little,” you say.

Minho pushes your hair out of your face, putting his arm behind his head to support it so he can look at you better.

“Did you make a move? He wouldn’t tell me.”

You pout.

“C’mon, now, Trouble. Don’t get shy on me now. Two minutes ago you were riding my dick.”

You roll your eyes. “We kissed. He stopped it.”

You must be making some sort of face, because Minho lets out a laugh. You hit in on the chest as hard as you can – of course, he barely budges.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me.”

“Don’t despair, Trouble. He likes you.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” you sigh in annoyance. “But he’s been avoiding me since.”

You give him a glare.

“Not unlike someone I know.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Have I been doing that?”

“Yes. Am I not interesting anymore because you’ve fucked me?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

“Like what, then?!”

“Don’t get anxious, doll, there’s still a number of things I plan to do with you. I was just leaving space for Vice.”

You arch an eyebrow.

“I knew you wanted to try him. And him you.”

You scoff. “You should tell him that.”

“I told him to go for it, that he’d have a good time. But when I mentioned fucking you, he said something about you not just being a piece of ass.”

“He… what?”

The words surprise you - and yet they don’t. Let’s not do this now, he said. You thought he meant it was the wrong moment, but it might be something else.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not like he’s secretly romantic and soft hearted,” Minho sighs. “But he is less of a whore than me.”

You decide to bring up the fact that Minho just called himself a whore later.

“What about the other night? The girl?”

“Guy spent weeks in jail, you expect him not to want some pussy? He didn’t want it to be you, though. I guess he was too frustrated that night. So you can expect him to take his sweet time with you once his mind is made up.”

You smack him lightly. “Jesus fucking Christ, you talk like I’m going to let him do anything he wants to me whenever he wants it. I’m not just a fuck toy, you know. What if I’m not in the mood?”

“Then he’ll wait,” Minho answers, laughing. “But let’s face it, doll. Vice walks into this very room right now with his dick hard and his eyes all over you, would you really say no?”

You stammer slightly. “If I didn’t want to, yes.”

“But what if you did?”

“Tssk. Why are you so invested in this?”

“Because he’s my oldest friend, and you’re my favorite girl.”

You sigh, shaking your head. Minho sits up, his fingers grabbing your chin gently. His face hovers yours.

“It’s not like we’re in love, Trouble. I just want us all to have some fun while we’re young. A day without your exquisite body getting venerated is a day wasted.”

“Tell him that, then,” you blurt out. Quickly, you shake your hands. “I mean fuck, no, don’t tell him that.”

Minho squeezes your ass in response, a smirk on his lips. “Have I told you I fucking love this look on you? It’s a very “slut just got rammed” look.”

You bark out a laugh. “Did you just call me a slut?”

“Apparently.”

“Careful, I just might start to call you whore.”

Minho barks out a laugh. “Gladly.”

Being with Changbin is easy.

Almost too easy.

You glance at him from across the convenience store, his brows slightly furrowed as he tries to decide which brand of beer to buy. You see his face reflected in the refrigerator windows, his head tilted. With his back to you, you can take in the sight of his wide shoulders and his cut.

You’ve been spending more time together - most of the time, he takes you for rides around town, finding excuses to run the engine for a little too long. You’re grateful for it because when your arms aren’t around him, holding tight, the rumble of the motorcycle under you, you almost miss it.

Eventually he makes his choice and you walk back towards him, holding two bags of potato chips. You surprised him when he came to get you earlier. While you’re wearing one of your usual sundresses, you paired it with a new jacket - a leather one. His crooked smile had been instant - and he gives it to you again as you stop next to him.

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

One of his hands is holding the pack of beer - his other arm he settles on your shoulders, keeping you close. As much as Minho makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, Changbin is already at its bottom with his arms wide open.

He walks with you to the cashier, telling you about some stupid thing Jisung has done lately, and you listen to him, enthralled with the sight of his smirk, of the rare spark in his eye. You’re so focused on him you don’t notice the guy in front of you, who is standing there, taking up all the space in the aisle so you can’t walk forward.

Changbin does. He stops, tightens his hold on you.

“Seo Changbin,” the stranger spits. “Surprised to see you put a toe outside Temperance knowing the price on your head.”

Changbin arches an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be smarter than to listen to rumors, Santiago.”

“Not just rumors, man. A lot of people want you dead.”

“Then they should line up and take their shot.”

The guy chuckles before giving you a long look.

“Cute. A shame, really.” He looks back at Changbin. “It’s nothing personal.”

Changbin tenses. “Do what you gotta do.”

You look up at him. The man walks away, drawing his phone to his ear. Changbin puts down the pack of beer.

“Leave it,” he whispers in your ear. “Quickly.”

You leave the bags and follow him outside. In a matter of seconds, you’re back on his bike and you’re driving away. He’s speeding, you can feel it - his hands are gripped around the handles so hard his joints are white. Your heart is beating fast, and you’re not sure you understand what is happening - just that it’s bad.

Changbin burns a red light.

“We need to get back to Temperance ASAP,” he tells you. “No one can touch us there. Don’t be scared. I got you.”

You swallow and nod although he can’t see you. You grip him tighter.

You’re close to town when you hear the deafening noises of multiple engines. You look around nervously - and then they appear. A few motorcycles, four of them, approaching you very fast. In the darkness you can’t see too well, but you’re sure they’re wearing cuts too. They are not friendly.

Changbin accelerates and you watch the movements of the other bikers. They’re fast, and they make a lot of noise. In the rearview mirror, you see one of them take out a gun.

“Changbin!” you shout.

He’s already seen it, though, and swerves sharply in a nearby street to avoid the gunfire. It’s like you can’t breathe, as Changbin guides you through narrow streets. The other bikers aren’t far behind, but Changbin is good. He knows the area better, perhaps, because he takes his turns at the very last second - and soon you can only see two bikes behind you.

Changbin heads for the main road again, and your eyes are full of tears. Temperance is right there, and when you pass the town border, Changbin suddenly breaks. He turns his bike to face your pursuers, lifting his visor to stare at them.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snaps at them.

The next seconds are tense - they stare at each other, anger emanating from every inch of them. You can only watch and hope for the best. Fortunately, the other bikers relent. They turn and drive away - on their cuts, you can read Skulls.

Changbin breathes out. “Fucking pest,” he spits.

“What’s going on, Bin?” you ask.

“Just people thinking they own everything outside Temperance.”

“That never happened before.”

“They’re trying to prove themselves,” he sighs.

After a few seconds of silence, Changbin relaxes, rubbing his eyes.

“C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“No,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I want to stay with you.”

You can’t see his face well, but he nods.

“Okay.”

He drives away. You expect him to go to the clubhouse or the house the Vices share, but instead he drives a bit further, down a street you don’t know very well. You look around in confusion as he enters a driveway. The house in front of you is small and looks abandoned, like no one has lived in there for years.

Changbin pulls out his phone and activates something on an app - in front of you, the garage door opens. He parks inside it, closing the door behind you.

You disembark, taking off the helmet, still a little shaken from the pursuit.

“Where are we?” you ask.

Changbin leaves his helmet on his bike and you do the same. “I’ll show you.”

He takes your hand, guides you inside the house. It’s not as decrepit inside as you would’ve imagined it. The house is empty except for a few pieces of furniture here and there. It smells a little stuffy but it’s clean.

“It was my father’s house,” he explains, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s mine now. I don’t want to sell it.”

“Why not?” you ask, taking a few steps in the main room, heading to the kitchen in curiosity.

“I’ll live here one day. Make it mine, with my old lady.”

You turn to him and give him a smile. “So you’re the type, huh?”

He nods, and you find it endearing. You wouldn't've thought it - Changbin always looks so withdrawn. That he eventually wanted to have a family, to raise it in the house where he grew up - it was beautiful.

“I can see it,” you say with a smile. “A big table. Curtains floating in the summer breeze. Kids running around the yard.”

“Yeah?”

You turn to him and smile. “Definitely.”

You walk closer to him, staring at him. Adrenaline is still pumping in your veins from earlier - it would be lying to say that a part of you didn’t enjoy it.

The danger.

The risk.

Minho would love to see you like this.

“Are you asking me something?” you tell Changbin in a low voice. Slowly, you sink your hands in his pockets, covering his hands with yours.

“What if I am?”

“Fuck, Changbin,” you sigh. “You haven’t even touched me yet.”

“I don’t need to,” he whispers, leaning his head forward. His lips graze your cheek. Your ear. You breathe heavily. “I already know.”

“What?”

“That you’re what I want. What I need.”

He kisses your skin. Your earlobe. You shudder.

“I want you to be mine.”

“Changbin…” you breathe. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m… What if I’m…”

You chuckle nervously. You put a hand against his chest, pushing him slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What if I’m terrible in bed?”

His chuckle is low. “I know you’re not.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. Minho told me.”

At the sound of his name, you tense slightly. Changbin smiles.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not asking for you to just be mine. I know you by now. We can share. And he’ll never settle down. I will.”

He kisses your neck.

“I can make you happy, Y/N. I can make you whole. Please let me.”

All you want is to say yes. All you want is to give yourself to him - but can you? Will you? Giving your entire being to a person? You’re not sure. But you know it’s not really what Changbin is asking. His words and his eyes tell you you’ll always be free. Your heart won’t have to be constrained. It can just breathe - it can love as fully and widely as it wants.

“Don’t answer now,” he breathes. “Just wanted to be clear with you. About what I want. What I see. I’ll take you as you are if you’ll have me.”

“So politely asked,” you chuckle, your hands traveling up his arms.

He laughs against your skin, then steps back to look at you tenderly. “Can I kiss you?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Dude, you basically just asked me to raise a family with you. And now you ask permission to kiss me? You’re so weird.”

He just shrugs, and you giggle.

“Yes, you lunatic, you can kiss me.”

His lips come in contact with you, sucking them around his, tasting every inch. He kisses you so well you forget everything but the fire inside you, and you wrap yourself around his body to deepen the kiss. He nibbles on your lip, rolls his tongue around yours.

“Fuck, you’re such a good kisser,” you breathe, and he smiles.

You desperately need him to touch you.

“Changbin…”

“Hm?”

“Can I take your hand?”

“Hm.”

You gently align his fingers with yours, and you guide his hand in between your legs. You bring up your dress, and slide his fingers against you. You gasp at the contact, and he groans, curling his fingers.

“Can you feel it? How wet I am for you?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are closed, his mouth open. You hear his heavy breathing, you feel his tense muscles.

“There’s just something about you, Changbin,” you whisper, slowly moving his hand. “Don’t you know the effect you have on me?”

He opens his eyes, then, and they are so dark, you can only plunge head first in them. “I don’t think you have any idea of the effect you have on me.”

You can only stare – because he’s moving his fingers on his own, in all the most delicious ways, and your legs start to feel weak.

“Minho got to you first because he’s a sweet talker and I’m not,” Changbin hisses. “But the moment I heard you in the flower shop, I knew I wanted you.”

He pushes a finger inside of you, and you gasp in the darkness of the empty house.

“You know me and Minho had a few drinks, that night? And you know what we said?”

You shake your head.

“How delightful it must be to get you to moan our names.”

“Tsk. I don’t believe you,” you taunt him.

He smirks. “It’s true though. The fire inside you…” He inserts another finger, and you grip his shoulders. “Made me want to be consumed by it.”

You sigh as he accelerates his movements, letting out a whimper. He bites your earlobe, sucks it in his mouth.

“I wanted to wait a little,” he breathes. “Get to know you, see what kind of person you were. That just makes it all better, I think. When you know the person – when you finally understand what makes them tick.”

You wish you could hold up your end of the conversation, but you’re lost in the haze. You clench around him, ready to come.

“Minho had his turn. It’s mine, now, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Tell me.”

“It’s yours, Changbin. I’m yours.”

He suddenly removes his fingers and you groan in frustration. He ignores your complaint, lifting you up and pushing you against the nearest wall. He devours your lips again, his hardness pushing against your legs. You moan against his mouth, your body shaking under his touch.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I need to feel you around me.”

“Please, Changbin,” you sigh. “Please fuck me.”

“I’ve made you wait, haven’t I, beautiful?”

“Too fucking long,” you groan.

He smiles. “I have an idea.”

Almost too easily, as if you weighed less than a feather, he wraps you around him, your legs secured around his waist, and starts to walk back to the garage.

“Where are -”

“Just wait.”

Once in the garage, he walks over to his bike, and you stare at him with wide eyes. Oh. He chuckles at the look you give him.

“What is it? You don’t like the idea?”

Gently, he sits you on the leather seat of his bike, and you kiss him hard.

“I think I like it a little too much,” you breathe.

He takes off your panties and unclasps his belt. As he takes off his pants, you sprawl yourself more comfortably on the bike, opening your legs wider for him. He gives you a dark look.

“A fucking sight,” he lets out.

You chuckle and you help him with his buttons, reaching in his boxers to stroke him – he groans, immediately grabbing your wrists to put them on each side of your body, pinning you in place.

Well that reminds you of someone.

He takes another step forward, his length pressed against you, and the pressure makes you shiver. You’re dizzy from desire, and you barely register as he guides your hands. He puts one around one of the handles of the bike, the other around the edge of the seat. He hovers over you, grinning.

“Hold on tight.”

He enters you slowly, and you roll your eyes back at the feel of him. He pushes all the way into you, and stays there to take a long breath. He’s taking all the space, and it feels almost too natural, like he belongs there, and you wish you had the words to tell him.

“You’re so warm, fuck,” Changbin sighs, and you feel your breath against your hair.

“God, Changbin,” you breathe. “Fuck me.”

So he does. His thrusts are measured, not too fast, but each is enough to bring out a moan from between your lips. You hang on to the bike, who trembles at every move – but the sight of Changbin fucking you on his bike is too much for you to really worry about it. He looks like a storm, his sweet lips parted, his muscles contracted. He’s big and strong against you, and you pull him closer.

Your breath accelerates as the same time he does, pounding into you, and you’re clenching around him, feeling your orgasm all the way to your toes. Your nails sink into the leather of the seat.

“Oh, fuck, that feels good. You feel so good coming around my dick.”

“Holy shit, Bin…” you whisper, feeling your body relax.

But Changbin shakes his head, placing his fingers on you, circling your sensitivity, making you tremble.

“I want to make you come again,” he whispers.

“I don’t… I…”

“Don’t slip away from me. Stay right there. I’m so close.”

He never stops fucking you, and your mind is in a daze – his fingers are grasping at the last remnants of your orgasm, assembling them into a new knot ready to unfold. You almost whimper against him, feeling your skin in flames.

You open your eyes to look at him – like you, he’s sweating, his hair wet, and the sight is enough to send you on the edge. He grunts, holding you tight, and he comes inside of you. You follow him, gasping, your legs shaking.

It takes a while for you to recover – you’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds. Changbin is panting, his forehead against yours, and you never want to move.

You want to cover him in kisses. You give him just a few, but it feels like enough.

“So?” you ask, mischievous. “What is worth the wait?”

“Every second,” he sighs. “Fucking the woman of my dreams.”

You shake your head, biting your lip, smiling. “Well, I will say this,” you say, your voice hoarse. “It’s my first time fucking on a motorcycle.”

“Oh, yeah?” Changbin says with a smirk. “Did you like it?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Then let’s do it again. I need that pussy to drip on that leather so much it’ll leave a stain.”

You bite your lip. “That was filthy, Changbin.”

“I’m not sorry for it.”

You grab his face by the chin and kiss him. “You better not be.”

The next night, you go over to the Vices’ clubhouse for a party, and there’s a cake waiting for you. It reads “congrats! you finally fucked” – and Minho howls in laughter when he sees the look on your face.

“Really?” you sigh.

“I’m just proud of you,” he says, stroking your hair.

You look for Changbin, and easily find him – he’s smirking not far behind. It’s not that you didn’t believe Minho when he said he wouldn’t mind you fucking his Vice, but it’s a relief to see it’s actually true. The two even seem closer than before, playing a friendly game of Texas Hold’em together, testing each other’s poker faces.

You find yourself talking to Chan’s old lady a lot, and she tells you a few stories about the club, about her first months around them, and you’re laughing so hard there are tears in your eyes. She’s hilarious - and you catch glimpses of Chan looking at her adoringly.

After a quick run to the bathroom, you want to take some air - you go through the garage, which is the quickest way from there, and you open the door of the office on Felix making out with Cherry.

“Oops. Fuck. Sorry.”

You peck your lips, trying really hard not to laugh.

“No worries,” Felix smiles brightly before he cups Cherry’s cheek again, sinking into her arms, kissing her deep.

You stay for a second too long because Felix looks like an amazing kisser but you eventually close the door, giggling hysterically.

“So that’s where he is, the little fucker.”

You turn around, jumping at the voice behind you - to your surprise, it’s Hyunjin. He’s tied his hair back and is wearing a leather jacket. How on theme.

“Told me he’d meet me outside. Guess he forgot.”

You gape at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Felix invited me. Said you were having a party. I brought a guest, too.”

You glance behind his shoulder, expecting his girlfriend, but it’s Seungmin you find standing there. He looks a little embarrassed to be there, staying back, as if afraid to come closer.

“Min,” you mutter, advancing towards him.

“I know what I said.” He raises his hands. “I just, I was alone, and I wanted to check up on you, and…”

He stops talking when you collapse in his arms. It feels so good to have your friend here. All your people here. Your heart could burst with happiness - and it has nothing to do with the few drinks you’ve had.

“I still don’t like them,” Seungmin mumbles into your hair. “But I heard the parties were pretty cool.”

“Let’s get you a drink, then,” you say, clenching his hand.

Hyunjin smiles fondly at both of you.

“Adorable. Can I get a fucking drink for once?”

You grab Hyunjin’s hand as well, smiling widely, and lead them inside. Everyone is happy to see them - Minho welcomes Seungmin with a smile, and Changbin goes behind the bar to prepare shots for you three. You take them a little too quickly, laughing. Seungmin takes some time to unwind, but you let him - you understand his reservations more than most. You’re just happy he’s there.

You know he’s being your friend.

And you want to be his.

You play darts together as Hyunjin, Changbin, and a few others take over the pool table. Felix and Cherry are nowhere to be seen - Minho starts a game of Mario Party with Jisung, who is just sitting there with the controller in his hands, not even playing. From the vacant look in his eyes, he’s stoned out of his mind. The atmosphere is relaxed, the music not too loud.

That’s when you hear the police sirens.

At first, they sound faint, buried under the sound of music and conversation - but soon the blue and red lights shine through the windows and no one can ignore them. You see Changbin tense, but Minho stays calm, sitting on a couch, legs sprawled. Changbin walks over to them, utters a few words in his ear, and they both nod. You catch Minho’s eyes - he winks at you.

You grab Seungmin’s hand.

“What’s going on?” he asks you in your ear.

“I don’t know,” you reply nervously.

A few police officers enter the clubhouse, led by their sheriff. Jeongin is among them, but he’s not smiling as he usually is. Instead, he looks around like he’s going to spit on the floor in disgust. His colleagues are the same.

Changbin waves towards the bar, and the music gets cut off.

The silence is deafening.

“Having a little party, are you?” the sheriff says, looking at Minho, who still hasn’t moved. “Celebrating something?”

Minho smirks. “The pleasures of the flesh,” he replies smugly. “I’d offer you cake, but there isn’t any left.”

“How about a drink, then?”

It’s like time is slowed for a few seconds, as the sheriff and Minho stare at each other - you look at Jeongin questioningly, and he winks at you. Oh.

“Prospect,” Minho says. You notice Felix has just arrived in the room, his hair dischevelved, his lips swollen.

“Yes, boss?”

Cherry is hiding behind him, giggling silently.

“Get a drink for the sheriff and his friends, will you? The good stuff.”

“Right away, boss.”

It’s then that the sheriff breaks into a wide grin, walking to Minho to shake his hand. The music starts again, and the other police officers disperse around the room, their serious looks completely gone.

“What was that all about?” Seungmin breathes, shaking his head.

“Must be some inside joke,” you reply nervously - it has unsettled you, too.

“Holy shit, is that Kim Seungmin I see?”

Jeongin barks out a delighted laugh as he walks towards both of you, pulling Seungmin into a hug. He ruffles his hair, Seungmin sighing deeply.

“Turned to the dark side, have you?”

“No,” Seungmin retorts, pushing Jeongin away. “Just… playing darts.”

“Don’t tease him, Jeongin, will you?” you tell the officer with a glare.

Jeongin raises his hands. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“Tssk. The last time I heard you say that was at the town barbecue after you promised not to flirt with my cousin and you ended up flirting with my mother,” Seungmin says darkly.

“Well she wasn’t your cousin, was she?”

Still, Seungmin looks like he has relaxed again, and the boys start to move towards the bar - but you feel a hand on your waist, sliding from your back to your stomach. Minho spins you around this way, his eyes digging into yours.

“Missing some Trouble,” he breathes against your lips. He smells like vodka and gasoline, and it’s intoxicating.

“Don’t you have enough of that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at the sheriff, who is currently doing shots with the club’s secretary, whom you’ve found out is Chan’s uncle, one of only ones from the old generation who is still alive.

“They always do that,” Minho chuckles. “Their little show. Try to act like they’ve still got any kind of authority around here.”

“Hm. But you’re it, aren’t you?”

“You know it, Trouble,” he growls, embracing you in a deep kiss.

It feels a little embarrassing to do so in the middle of the room where there are so many people you know - Hyunjin, Seungmin, even Changbin who days ago was fucking you on his bike - but you don’t push him away. It’s not like they don’t know. Everyone is too busy drinking and partying to care, anyway.

So you kiss him back, hungrily, and he squeezes your ass. You slap his chest in response.

“You know what your nickname should be?” you squint your eyes at him. “Greedy.”

“Greedy and Trouble. We make a good pair.”

You chuckle. Something flashes in Minho’s eyes, and he grins.

“Sparkle some Vice in there and you’ve got one hell of a party.”

You stare back at him, eyes wide. “You mean…”

“Wouldn’t you love it, Trouble?” he mutters, his soft lips grazing your jaw, your neck. You shiver against him.

“The two of us, just for you. Two mouths to kiss you. Two tongues to lick you up and down,” he continues, kissing your neck. You close your eyes, not even caring about how exposed you are. “Four hands to worship all parts of you.”

He comes back up to kiss your cheek, his lips then grazing your ear.

“Two hard dicks to fuck you until you can’t breathe.”

You gulp, indulging in the fantasy - the tension between your legs is almost unbearable, and you have to breathe out slowly to calm yourself.

“That sounds a little overwhelming,” you say, opening your eyes to look at him.

Of course, he looks particularly happy with himself. “Oh, don’t worry. We can go slow. Ease you into it. But I think you’d like it. Have you ever done it?”

“A threesome?” you ask. When he nods, you shake your head. “No.”

Minho smiles. “Then think about it.”

He laughs.

“Although I think I already have my answer. You’re soaked, aren’t you? I can smell it on you.”

You slap his chest again, and he keeps laughing, but he’s not mocking you.

“Wait for me in my office,” he says.

You nod as he walks away. You head for the bar, and get yourself a shot. Minho is talking to Changbin, who glances at you. Is this happening tonight? Oh God. You’re not prepared for this. Still, you can’t stop it. You won’t.

You are shuddering in advance.

You look for Seungmin, because you don’t want to just disappear on him, but he’s in a deep conversation with Jeongin. His smile is calm and sincere, and he looks happy, so you’re not too worried. You head for Minho’s office, closing the door behind you. The sound coming from the main room is faint, and the sudden calm acts like a cold shower.

What the fuck are you doing?

You really should stop. It’s getting out of hand - but you can’t bring yourself to. You know the second Minho will walk in, you won’t be able to say no. He has a hold on you - a delightful, heavenly hold. And Changbin. Changbin, you feel, has become a part of you, settled into your heart without difficulty. It’s just easy with him. You know you can’t have them both. Not for more than a few hours.

You still want to. Your heart is in their hands.

You’ll have to let them go at some point.

Both of them.

You’ll have to see them with other partners. You’re not jealous.

But you’re a little possessive.

You’ll have to keep living your life. How, you’re not sure. You feel yourself bound to the club now. Too many ways in.

No way out.

Lost in your thoughts, you jump when the door opens. Only Minho walks in, though, and he doesn’t leave you any time to say something - he just grabs your face in his hands and pulls you into a kiss. You moan against his mouth, pushed against the desk, burying your hands in his hair.

“Such good memories from this room,” he chuckles after kissing you for so long your lips feel raw. He bites your lower lip, inciting a little whimper from you. “I can barely get any work done here anymore, I just keep thinking about it and get hard.”

You laugh, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Really?”

“That makes you happy, doesn’t it?” he chuckles.

“Well. I’ve dreamed about ruining your life for some time now,” you admit cheekily.

He slaps your ass. “My little Trouble. Except it hasn’t exactly gone as planned, right?”

“Hm. You don’t know that,” you admit, kissing his cheek, his jaw, the corners of his lips.

“You’re telling me it’s all part of your evil plan to fuck not only one, but two Vices?”

“Going down the hierarchy,” you say. “I’m gonna burn it all down.”

Minho laughs and kisses you again.

“Let’s fuck some sense into you,” Minho breathes. “After tonight you won’t want to leave.”

“I already don’t,” you sigh before you can think about what you’re saying. Minho stops for a fraction of a second, but soon kisses you again, even more feverishly. You swirl your tongue around his, grinding your hips against his.

He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you’re so lost in the moment you don’t hear the office door opening and closing. You faintly hear the sound of a lock, and suddenly there’s another pair of hands on you, fingers pushing away your hair, lips kissing your neck.

“Sorry, Vice,” Minho says. “We got started without you.”

“That’s fine,” Changbin breathes.

You’re pressed between both, feeling your thoughts already wander off. Your throat is dry, your chest in a tight knot. You turn to Changbin, because you need to see him. He’s looking at you, softly, hungrily.

“Hi,” he mutters. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you. You look beautiful tonight.”

It’s a bit hard to focus because Minho is pressed against you, his lips not leaving your skin.

“Changbin,” you breathe, sliding a hand on the back of his neck. “Are you really okay with this?”

“Are you?” he asks.

You nod, although a little timidly.

“Then yes,” he says, leaning towards you.

He steals your lips. Minho caresses you, grabbing your breasts to massage them, and you moan in Changbin’s mouth. Then it’s Minho you’re kissing, Changbin breathing hard on your skin. It feels like a dance, and you are swept away, letting your body relax. You can trust them.

You’ve only been kissing for less than a minute when someone knocks on the door. You all tense, like you’re kids getting caught, and Minho leaves you in Changbin’s arms to answer the door. He envelops you, devouring your lips, and you desperately want to rip off his clothes to see him better.

You faintly hear Chan’s voice on the other side of the door, catching a few words - Felix, fire, the sheriff - and when the door closes, you know it’s over.

“Sorry, Trouble,” Minho says. He looks good with his hair ruffled by you, his lips bright red. “Felix has apparently set fire to a car outside, so I need to take care of that before he gets arrested. Vice, I need you to talk to the sheriff, he’ll only listen to you.”

Changbin lets out an annoyed sigh. “That fucking kid, I swear…”

Minho gives you a smile. “Don’t worry, doll. Minor setback. We’ll have to do this another time.”

“That’s okay.”

He kisses your cheek, and Changbin your forehead. They leave the room, and you’re left there, frustrated but slightly amused.

Hello! Thank you sooo much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the second part of this story. Let me know what you thought with a comment if you can, it's motivation fuel, and who knows, it might help me post the rest faster. Lots of love xx

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

Text

Against the odds

Chapter Nine - Revelations

a/n: The next chapter is here, guys! 😁 Enjoy! ☺️

Word Count: 3,7k

Warnings for this Chapter: angst, mentions of past trauma, swear words, pregnancy things

Masterlist

Your brother's eyes darted from you to the suitcase and back, mouth agape. "Y-Y/N that's, uhh..." "Yeah..." You said, zipping up the suitcase once again. "Consequences... Like I said..." Chris was visibly shocked, expected everything to see in that suitcase, but definitely not an ultrasound picture. Being a triple dad himself, he knew exactly, what that meant. "I-I can't quite believe this..." Your brother started, shaking his head. "Y-You're pregnant?" You nodded. "My little sister is pregnant?" "Yep. After trying again and again and again for months with absolutely no luck, one slip up was enough." Chris still needed a moment to grasp this. "But, it's, uh, Tom's baby, right?" You scoffed in offense. "Of course, it's Tom's! Do you think like Nate now?! That I'm screwing through the actor world?" Chris' eyes widened, when he realised with horror what he had said. "No, no, no, of course not! It's just... So sudden and unrealistic! I'm so sorry, Arielle!" You sighed. "You better be..." Unpleasant silence spread throughout the room, before Chris cleared his throat. "So... My brother-from-another-mother is going to be a daddy... Woah, that's crazy. I bet he's super happy about it! He always loved kids." At his words you swallowed hard; felt your guilty conscience creep up on you again like so many times before. "Tom doesn't know it yet." You quipped in a quiet, ashamed voice. Once again, Chris' eyes widened. "What? You didn't tell him?? You just left without telling him??" "I know, I know, I'm horrible... I just... I had to go, I couldn't..." You didn't know what to say; felt the tears burning in your eyes. "I know, Y/N... I know..." Chris pulled you in another hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You sobbed against his chest for minutes and minutes, while your big brother just held you and comforted you. "You gotta tell him, Arielle..." Chris whispered. "He deserves to know." "I-I know - and I want to, b-but... It's just a lot at the moment." You felt Chris nodding against your shoulder, before he retreated from the hug. "Go to bed, rest." "Yeah... That's for the best, I think." Your brother placed a kiss on your forehead. "As soon as Liam arrives tomorrow, we are going to take you out, get your mind off things." You gave Chris a weak smile. "Sounds wonderful." "Good night." "Night." Chris left the room, closing the door behind you. A big sigh escaped your lips. Oh, what a mess...

You actually wanted to go to sleep, but then decided to pack out your things, you had haphazardly thrown into your suitcase before you left London. The ultrasound picture fell into your hands once again, of course. You stared down at it - at the small, innocent life, which was growing inside you. That was all you ever wanted and dreamed of, wasn't it? And yet you felt so torn. Shaking your head, you placed it back in one of the pockets in the suitcase and unpacked all your other stuff. It took a little while and managed to pull your thoughts off of all the chaos - and the gorgeous, handsome, heartbroken Brit at least a little bit.

It was almost midnight, when you sunk in the cosy sheets of the bed in the guest bedroom. A last check of your mobile shot a painful ache through your heart. About ten missed calls and dozens of messages from Tom. You squeezed your eyes shut and quickly turned off your phone, before the tears could start to fall again.

Sleep didn't come easy to you that night. You tossed and turned; thousand thoughts were running at lighting speed through your head. Your brain just couldn't turn off. The hours ticked by and at some point, you were mentally so exhausted, that you just slept in. But nevertheless, the sleep wasn't restful and therefore you felt awful as you stood up the next day...

"Morning." You slumped into the kitchen, tiredly rubbing your eyes. "Hey, good morning." Elsa greeted you with a soft smile. She was just preparing breakfast as it seemed. "Slept good?" You shook your head. "Not at all. My brain just couldn't shut up." Her expression shifted immediately, turned compassionate. "Oh no, I'm so sorry..." You sighed, before you sat down on of the chairs. "Yeah... Not even at night can I have a little bit of peace... This all haunts me even then..." Elsa's face scrunched up in worry, as she made her way over to you, sitting on the chair beside you and placing her hand on your shoulder. "You definitely need to get your mind off things, sweetie. I know, this is a difficult task, with Tom and the media being constantly present in your life, but if you don't do this, your mental health is going to suffer from this." You looked over at your brother's wife, almost helplessly. "I-I know, but... I just can't, I..." You had to swallow hard, in order to suppress the upcoming tears. She reached for your hand and took it gently in hers. "You will. Take time off. Rest. Text Tom you need a break. Turn off your phone. Ignore anyone and anything. It will help, I promise. Clear your head and sort out your thoughts and feelings. We are going to make this. You can do this, Y/N." You shook your head. "I-It's not just that, I-" You took a deep breath; about to drop the bombshell. "Elsa, I-I'm pregnant."

You expected for her to be totally shocked and surprised - but she wasn't. Quite the opposite. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips, as she squeezed your hand. "But that is wonderful, sweetie. Isn't that what you always wanted?" You looked at her, blinking. "Y-Yes, but Tom and I never talked about it, a-and we're barely six months together and the publicity and-" "Hey... It doesn't matter. You know why?" You shook your head. "Because first off, Tom loves kids. He would never turn you down. Never. Secondly, he loves you. I could see it in his eyes. From the very first time he met you. You turned this man's head - hard. He will fight for you. You two belong together. And thirdly... Don't let yourself get down by the publicity. Sounds easy, I know, but you have to learn to not let them get to you. Show the truth. Show them what a wonderful life you have with Tom. Show them how happy you two are. Be proud of what you have." You almost started to cry again right then and there at Elsa's sweet words. "Do you... Do you really think that?" Elsa smiled, giving your hand another squeeze. "I know it. You take a break now, breathe, and then we're going to get your man back." Her positivity and assurance caused you to smile - and for the first time in days, you had the feeling that everything would be alright again sometime. Elsa was the first who could really get through to you. Without hesitation, you pulled her in a hug. The angle was quite a bit awkward, but you didn't care. "Thank you so much." You spoke in a quiet voice. Elsa didn't answer, just squeezed your body gently, before you and her retreated from the hug. "Now let's get some breakfast into you. That's the first step we are going to take. After all, you need to eat for two now." She said, winking and smiling. "And then you are going to text Tom and turn your phone off for a week or more." "Yes ma'am." You saluted, giggling. Elsa rolled her eyes, but laughed as well. She went to pick up the pancakes she had made and placed the plate on the table; sitting down opposite you. "Where's Chris?" "Bringing the kids to school and kindergarten, before Liam arrives." You nodded. "Do you know when he's going to be here?" Elsa shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Sometime today..."

After breakfast, you did what Elsa told you. You texted Tom and turned off your phone, before you buried it deep underneath the pile of clothes in your suitcase, which didn't fit in the small wardrobe in the guest bedroom. Then you helped Elsa clean up a bit, distract yourself - until Chris came back home, with Liam in tow. The reunion was great. You hadn't seen your brother in a while. The morning flew by quickly and in the afternoon, you put Chris' plan into action and drove all together to the beach for a nice day in the sun. The kids were hyped for this as well, of course. Especially, because they had their aunt and uncle around to play - and that's what you did. You and Liam played frisbee with them first. Tristan, Sasha and India were in one team, you, Liam and Thor in the other. The dog love to catch frisbees.

After taking a swim with them together as well and having an ice cream, the kids went to play in the water with their dad, while Liam took you aside to talk. It was important for you to know, what your other brother thought of this as well. Therefore, you and him grabbed a surfboard from the surf school across the beach bar and paddled out on the open sea. You would've loved to surf for a while, but you didn't want to risk losing the baby. Liam and you sat both on your surfboards, swinging softly in the water, because of the gentle waves. "It just got too much and the voices too loud. I had the feeling, that if I wasn't going to leave now, I would break and go insane. I just had to leave..." Liam nodded. "Sounds quite understandable." "My reputation is so utterly bad... I've been corrupted by the press - and I didn't want to pull Tom into this as well. I didn't want to stain his reputation. I didn't want him to get ruined by the publicity, just because of me..." You sighed, shaking your head. "He doesn't deserve this. I don't want to be the reason for his career to fail. I-I feel like I am just a millstone around his neck. I'm impeding him and his career..." Liam nodded. "I understand the way you think, Y/N, but I don't think that this is the case. Tom loves you - and love is way more important than fame. That may not be the way everyone thinks, but Tom does. I am sure of that. I would stake my life on it. Can't you see that you mean everything to that man?" You swallowed hard at Liam's words. He wasn't wrong, was he? "Tom would trade his fame for a life with you in a heartbeat. Don't let such a man slip through your fingers. Both, you and he deserve to be happy together." "A-And what do you think I should do now?" Liam shrugged his shoulders, as if it was the easiest answer in the world. "Shut the publicity out and concentrate on love. Concentrate on becoming a family with Tom and that kid." Your brother stated, pointing on your stomach with a smile. You nodded, fiddling nervously with your hands. "I-I really hope you are right and someday Tom and I can become a family." Liam paddled closer to you. So close, that he was able to wrap his arm around your shoulders. "Not 'someday', sis... Soon." He gave you a smile, before gently nudging your side. "See that buoy over there?" You frowned at his words, but nodded. "Yeah?" Liam gave you a boyish smile, before he quickly laid down on his surfboard. "Whoever's last at the buoy is a lame duck!" He prompted and started to paddle quickly. "Hey!" You yelled appalled. "That's not fair!" Liam was already ahead, laughing. "Oh, you're so going to regret that, big bro!" You quickly started your race to catch up on Liam, giggling.

A shiver ran down Tom's spine, as he stepped out of the hot shower into his noticeably colder bathroom. He slung a towel around his hips and ran a hand through his still wet hair, as he walked over to the sink. Placing both his hands on each side of the basin, the man looked up in the mirror and got greeted by his reflection. Actually, Tom wanted to brush his teeth, but now he was standing there, staring at his messed-up self. His hair completely wet and dishevelled. The beard covering his chin and cheeks wasn't just a stubble anymore. Dark circles underneath his faded blue eyes were the proof of the countless nights he spent wide awake. Yes, the sudden disappearance of you had took its toll on the Brit. The past three, almost four weeks had been cruel. Tom felt like he wasn't himself anymore... Especially not without you. It was like a piece of himself - of his heart was missing. A sigh escaped Tom's lips, as he rubbed a hand over his face. Almost four weeks... Four - and still not a word from you. Sure, he could've flown after you to Australia, but he didn't do it. Why? Because you had practically asked for it. For him not to follow you. 'Again, I'm sorry, Tom, but I need time. Alone. Don't come after me, please.' Your message was echoing through his head over and over again. His heart was yearning for you. To get things right again, but he would respect your choices and pleads. He wouldn't follow you, even if it hurt him to the core and he had to fight against the urge every day. The man shook his head in order to get himself out of his thoughts. He reached for his toothbrush and just wanted to start with the task ahead, as his doorbell rang. He ignored it at first, but when it rang again, he dropped the toothbrush and made his way towards the door with an annoyed groan.

When Tom opened the door, he was a slight bit surprised. He didn't expect one of his best friends standing in front of the door - at almost nine o'clock in the evening. "Ben? What are you doing here that late?" The tall man across him, with short dark brown hair and green-blue eyes smiled at his friend. "Getting you out of your misery." Benedict said, walking inside and closing the door behind himself. "Come on. Get dressed. I'm taking you out." "Ben, I'm not in the mood to go out, I-" Benedict shook his head, interrupting him immediately. "No, that argument doesn't count. You've been sitting inside here for weeks, thinking and thinking. That's not good, my friend - and you know it. Drowning in your misery isn't going to help you or the whole situation. Come on now. Put on a shirt and some jeans. You need to see something different than just the same walls every day." Tom sighed frustrated. "You won't leave without me, right?" The other Brit crossed his arms over his chest. "Right." Reluctantly, Tom trudged back into his bathroom, in order to get dressed and ready for going out with his friend. He slipped in a shirt and some jeans, before applying a touch of cologne and styling his short, blonde-brown locks a bit. Nothing too fancy. After all, he still wasn't in the mood for this and definitely not looking for a hook-up. Not in his wildest dreams. He wanted no other woman in his life, but you. "Tom, are you ready?" Benedict's voice brought him back down to earth again; out of his thoughts. "Coming!" He took a last look in the mirror, before joining his friend again. "Better?" The brown-haired man nodded. "Way better, but..." "But what?" Ben gestured towards Tom's face. "Does the beard stay?" Tom crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, why? Something wrong with it?" Benedict just shrugged his shoulders. "It's just different from usual..." Then he chuckled. "You literally look like James Conrad in that bar scene. I don't know if that is a good idea, regarding the womankind..." Tom sighed. "Ben, I am not going with you in order to pick up a woman." The man lifted his hands in awe. "I know, I know, sorry. I was just trying to make a joke and lighten up the mood, but well... Come on now." He clapped his friend on the shoulder and ushered him towards the main door.

Benedict took his friend to a small, quiet bar at the outskirts of London. It was a bar, where they were often before and usually wasn't very crowded.

Ten minutes later, they were seated inside the bar, both with a beer in hands. "Still nothing new from your beloved?" Ben asked, taking a sip of his beer. Tom shook his head. "No. Nothing. It's been almost four weeks, Ben... You know I respect her wish for me to stay away, but..." He swallowed hard. "I-I'm afraid I might lose her, I..." The blonde-brown haired man cut off his own sentence, running a hand over his face. "What... What if I already lost her?" His voice was filled with sadness and despair. "I-I love her, you know... Like I never loved a woman before and... Shit, Ben, I can't lose her. I don't know what to do without her." Benedict looked at his friend with a compassionate expression. "You won't lose her, Tommy. I am very certain of it. I mean, I didn't meet her very often yet, but I saw the love in her eyes for you. The way she looked at you. That woman loves you with all her heart, man... She won't let you go. She just needs time. The media was literally ripping her apart... Just like her poisonous wanker of an ex. Let her sort out her thoughts and get along with her life being suddenly the centrepiece of every tabloid out there. This isn't easy. We both know that. Just think back to your relationship with TS... It was just as bad." "It was - and that was the day I swore to myself that I would never let that happen again, and now? I fucked up. I failed to prevent exactly that from happening... I should've done more, Ben... Protect Y/N better from all the hate and disrespect." The blond-haired man shook his head. "You did protect her, Tom. The publicity was just stronger. Now stop blaming yourself. It's in the past. This isn't about the 'Should have's' or 'Would have's'... This is about the 'What now?'. This is about how you get your woman back. You've got to free her from the publicity's claws - that much is clear, but-" Benedict got interrupted by the ringing of Tom's mobile. Frowning, the Brit fished the device out of his jeans pocket. Who would call him that late, unless his mum, sisters or Luke? When he saw the name popping up on the screen, he felt his heart speeding up. Ben noticed that immediately. "Who is it? Y/N?" Tom shook his head. "It's Chris..." "That's very close to Y/N..." Tom nodded. "I know... Do you mind if I...?" "No, no, please, go ahead." He threw his friend a thankful gaze and quickly stood up, leaving into the dimly lit hallway, which led towards the toilets.

"Chris?" "Tom! Hey! I hope I didn't wake you up?" "No, I, uh, I am in a bar... Benedict dragged me along." Tom frowned again. "Why are you calling me at that time? It must be pretty early in Brisbane..." Chris sighed at the other end of the line. "It is, but... I have to talk to you. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep this longer from you. It threatened to eat me up inside... It's about Y/N..." Tom swallowed hard at his friend's words; felt how his heart rate increase once again. This didn't sound good at all... "Y-Y/N? W-What is it?" Tom feared the worst, to be honest. The Aussie sighed once again. "She's probably going to kill me for this, but I don't care..." Chris took a break to take a deep breath. "Listen, brother... She... She's pregnant - with your baby." Tom felt all his facial features derailing. He was speechless; couldn't believe what Chris just said. His head was empty, except for the last words, which left the Aussie's lips. They ran through his mind in an endless loop. "Tom? You still there?" Tom blinked, "Y-Yes, I-I..." and shook his head in order to get his mind straight. "S-She's... p-pregnant? A-And it's m-my baby?" "Yes. I'm sorry that I'm the one who tells you such an important thing, but... I couldn't keep it longer from you. You just had to know... And of course it's yours, Tom! Who else's?" And suddenly Tom felt like he couldn't breathe. The news overwhelmed him completely; over rolled him with the force of an 18-wheeler truck. He stood like petrified in that hallway. "Tom?" Once again, his friends voice urged towards his ear. "I-I call you back." With those words, he hung up and literally stumbled down that hallway, back to Benedict - who thought Tom looked like he had seen a ghost. "Tom? Everything okay?" Tom just stared at his friend for a long moment; a trillion things running through his head. Y/N. Pregnant. Your baby. Becoming a father. "I-I..." He stuttered, blinking, before he suddenly stumbled to pick up his things, like stung by an adder. "I have to go, I have to leave. I have to fly to Brisbane, I-" Benedict stood up as well, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, looking at him worried. "Tom, what's wrong? What happened?" "S-She's pregnant, Ben. Y/N's pregnant, I..." He shook his head and turned around to literally run away, before Benedict could even answer. Going home as fast as somehow possible, he checked several flights on his way, booking the first available to Brisbane. Arrived at home, he threw some random clothes carelessly into a suitcase and left in a hurry towards the airport. Now that Tom knew that you were pregnant with his child, he couldn't just sit here at home and wait. He just couldn't. He had to break his promise.

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