#Fake Ah Crew x reader

[plutoswritingplanet]

could you do a request of Buggy (opla) falling for Luffy’s older sister? (Adopted or blood relation, doesn’t matter) like he takes her hostage but she doesn’t seem to mind. She know she can escape at any time, but keep annoying buggy to a point where… he doesn’t see her as a hostage anymore, more like treasure? And she starts to maybe feel something for the clown?

You Started It (Buggy The Clown x Reader)

a/n: how did i know the first request will be about the clown lmao. i took some liberties when writing this but i hope you still like it <3

Warnings: Buggy Being Kind Of An Asshole, Captivity, Some Suggestive Themes

Summary: Poking the bear isn't the wisest things you could be doing in your particular situation.

Part 2.

You've memorized every nook and cranny of your shoes. The time you've spent in containment has really opened your eyes, when it comes to how little you actually knew about the clothes you were wearing. For example, your right shoe was slightly bigger, molded by your foot. You must be putting more weight onto your right leg, when standing. The hem of your shorts is made with a very close cross stitch, making them slightly sturdier and thicker. Right where the material folds, just above your knee, you've managed to pick out a small hole, the strings of abused material hung sadly and tickled your skin.

There wasn't really much to do, while being kept in a cage, in the backstage of a circus which belonged to the infamous Buggy the Clown. Well, except studying the stains on your shoes and waiting for the Captain to visit you, which he did quite frequently.

"Entertainment purposes" is the reason he declared, when you've asked him why on earth is he keeping you locked up in a hanging cage. But you weren't so easily fooled. You knew from the start, that the role he has envisioned for you to play, was that of a Hostage and Bait. So, inevitably, when your younger brother and his merry band of misfits come to save you, he'd be able to even out the score. Which was a shitty plan, in your opinion.

They've kicked his ass before, they can do it once again.

So, that's why you're here, feet dangling above the floor, as you hum to yourself. Anything to pass the time. That is, until you hear the door to the backstage open, and a familiar tone of voice calls out.

"Hostage!"

Really, how did he even expect you to stay in the dark about his plan, while calling you like this? The man was clearly insane.

Buggy the Clown stands before you, makeup disheveled as always, with his Captain's hat abandoned in favor of a striped bandana. He's excited, which is evident, by the way he can't seem to stop moving, jumping from one leg to the other, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"How are you feeling, my dear Hostage?" he asks with fake concern, and just as your mouth opens to answer, he interrupts "Ah, never mind that, I don't care."

You don't even try to hide the annoyed expression on your face.

"You can sing" he states matter-of-factly, pointing a finger right at you.

"Barely."

"Can you dance though?"

"Barely as well."

He hums in thought, pacing the floor in front of your cage. Finally, he stops, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. His eyes rake over your body, and it brings a sudden wave of discomfort to your bones.

"You'll be performing in our next act."

Again, his tone leaves no space for an argument. Still, you were never an agreeable person, smiles were more of your brother's thing. So, you straighten out as much as the cage allows you and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Do whatever you like, my brother will get me out of here before you can say Welcome to my big show".

"Welcome to my big show" he says immediately, then, raises his finger, as if he's waiting for the entire crew of Strawhats to fall from the sky.

They don't, obviously, and he gives you a pointed look, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

"Besides" he turns around and opens one of the chests laid out on the table "Aren't you a bit old to dote on your younger brother so much?"

The question genuinely offends you, and as he pulls out another bandana, this one red, covered entirely with big white polka dots, your eyes glimmer with venom.

"Aren't you a bit old to play dress up?"

He turns in a blink of an eye, and with terror mixed with disgust you watch his hands detach from his body, slamming into the cage. The force of impact sends it flying right into the nearby wall, the back of your head smacks against the metal bars. The swinging of the cage coupled with the stars erupting before your eyelids from the impact make you feel dizzy.

Then, Buggy takes a step towards the cage, connecting his hands with the rest of his body, and your prison stops swinging in an instant.

"I should kill you for that" he says lowly, his blue eyes bearing into your face.

"You started it" you choke out an accusation, trying very hard not to vomit.

He stays completely quiet, just watching you for a long while, his hands slowly loose tension. Then, as if his rage has entirely dissolved, he smiles, teeth completely exposed, as his cheeks crease. God, you'd do such a better job at his make-up, given the chance.

"You're funny, Hostage" he shakes his head, and suddenly, for some unknown reason, it downs upon you, just how close to you, he's standing.

"Sing for me some more" he says.

And then, his hands push back with sufficient force to send your cage flying again. You groan at the movement, another wave of nausea almost making you loose your breakfast. When you finally have the perfect, biting comeback, he's already gone, the door slamming after him. You're alone again.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you press your forehead to the cold metal of the cage. You've already memorized all the details of your own clothes, and the room was too dark to see anything more. So, you start observing the cage. The way the light shifts up and down on the bars, the way the brown paint seems to peel away under your thighs. Then, you look up, towards the place where all the bars have been stuck together.

And then your eyebrows furrow. Because just above the ceiling of the cage, you can see something poking out. Something roughly the size of a fist and colored a pale, fleshy color. You raise yourself slightly in your seat, to get a better look, and immediately regret doing so.

It's an ear. His ear. Detached and placed right on top of the cage. That's how he knows about your singing, the bastard.

An idea brews in your brain, mischief spilling out of your growing smirk. You pull yourself up, until you can reach the top of the cage. Your arm is just slender enough to slip past the bars, and your fingers brush against the cold flesh of the ear. Before Buggy, wherever he is, can react, you snatch the ear from the top of the cage, keeping a tight grip, as it starts to jump in your hand.

Then, you take a deep breath, place the ear close to your lips… And give the most blood-curling, shrill scream you could muster.

Immediately, you hear a string of curses coming your way, and a second later Buggy bursts into the room, a murderous expression on his face. You open your hand, and the ear nearly bursts out of your fingers, flying back to it's owner like some sort of deformed beetle. The sight, for some reason, is so incredibly funny, you can't help but choke out a little giggle. Which soon becomes a quite big giggle, which in turn morphs into a full blown laughter.

You can't see the Captain through the tears of laughter forming in your eyes, so when he knocks on the metal bars of your cage, you nearly choke from surprise. He's looking at you strangely. Not quite as angry as before, but there is something else lurking behind his eyes. As if he's enveloped deeply in his thoughts, but at the same time completely present and focused on you. Your laughter dies down in an instantly, and you reach up to wipe your tears, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"I've captured myself a comedian, huh?" the man leans closer to the bars of the cage, placing his forehead against them and looking at you from below "You trying to take my place as the funniest person in the circus? Hm, Hostage?"

You risk a smirk, leaning down towards him. He watches your movements with a curious expression, eyes darting all over your face.

"Yeah" you whisper "So, you better watch your back."

At that, he smiles one of his brilliantly wide smiles. This one however, seems the most honest out of every one you've seen up to this point. You try not to linger too much at the way his eyes seem to shine in the dimly lit room. Or how the stubble on his face makes his features sharper. Or even on the way his arms flex as he leans against the cage. And definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, you're not focusing on the fact, that he's standing nestled right between your dangling legs.

So, before your brain conjures up any unwanted ideas, you clear your throat again and straighten up. Buggy notices the shift in your posture, but doesn't move, instead it seems as if a lightbulb has literally appeared beside his head. Desperate to change the subject, which hasn't been even brought up yet, you wave your hand in the general direction of his ear.

"Your ability is pretty useful" you try to sound as neutral, as humanly possible.

"Oh?" he tilts his head back and gives you a suspicious look.

"Yeah, that eavesdropping thing was really cool… And slightly disgusting" your nose scrunches "But mostly cool."

He hums low in his throat, his hands slowly letting go of your cage. Still, he remains standing between your legs, your knee brushing against his prominent hip bones.

"Are there" you swallow "Any limits to this ability?"

Now, his eyebrows jump straight under his bandana, and you definitely do not like the slow smirk filling his features.

"I mean, like, can you detach your nose? Or um… I don't know, your fingernails?"

Finally he steps back, stretching his arms to the side, as if he's giving you a show, and in a way, he does. There are muscles, hidden under those circus clothes. His exposed forearms are nicely shaped, with thick veins running the length of them. You really don't mean to ogle the man, but fuck, he is handsome. In an "insane-sadistic-clown-who-is-also-a-pirate-for-some-reason" way.

"I can detach every single part of my body with no effort" he says, his smile growing.

Before you could really think about your actions, your gaze falls downward, right to his belt keeping his trousers up. Mortified, that your brain would even go there, you tear your eyes up, and with a horrified expression, look upon a face full of excitement.

Then, Buggy raises his hands to his heart, feigning a scandalized expression, which would've been funny, if you weren't currently blushing in the lovely shade of a ripe beetroot.

"I'm sorry… that's not… I didn't" your words come out a jumbled mess, and Buggy wheezes out a laugh.

"Oh would you look at that" he puts his hands behind his back, as he slowly starts to stalk towards your confinement "You know, with how sheltered your little brother is, I didn't expect you to be such a dirty pervert."

You choke on air, arms flailing inside the cage, as you genuinely are at a loss for words, You can feel your face grow impossibly hot, the heat spreading all the way to the tops of your ears. The Clown still advances, until his face is pushed right between the bars of the cage, a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. You don't know what to do with yourself, as the man continues to laugh at your outrage.

Finally, his right hand flies from behind his back and stops right above his head. Then, as if making a show specially for you out of his unusual abilities, he lets his pointer finger remove itself from the hand. Involuntarily, you make a face, and try to push yourself as far into the cage, as humanly possible. Which, given the size of your prison, does practically nothing. The finger aims straight at your nose and presses it with slightly more force, than a friendly "boop" would.

"You started it" he throws your own words back at you, and watches your dumbfounded expression with a smile and a giggle.

Finally, he steps back, all his body parts in place, and you can breathe again at last. Then, with a flourish, he bows down before the cage, before giving you a slightly unbalanced twirl. At that, you can't help but smile, almost fondly. He's not so bad, when he isn't actively trying to murder you and your friends.

"Anyways, get ready, your grand performance is in a week" he concludes, and you sigh deeply.

So he hasn't let this one go.

No matter. A week from now, you'll be out of this place. The thought fills you with joy, and strangely, with some sort of melancholy, which you have to jot down as nausea, just to protect your own mental health.

"Hostage" the man says, as a goodbye, bowing once again, this time with fewer theatrics, and begins to walk back towards the door. "Captain" you respond in kind, inclining your head slightly.

He stops in his tracks, back turned to you, before slowly, twisting his body, to look you in the face. He wants to say something, his mouth opens and closes, and anticipation floods your stomach. But then, his lips pull back into one more smile, more reserved, more private. Now, in this rare moment of tranquility, he looks truly handsome, and your heart jumps to your throat at the realization. He gives you one last look, shakes his head at the floor, and exits with a soft click of the door.

You're, once again, left alone with your mismatched shoes and the hole in your shorts. This time, however, your head is filled with tender thoughts, one that could keep you company, until another visit befalls you.

[timewillpasssoon]

HELLO!!! Maybe in the second part there's some drama 🫣 Maybe a dating scandal with another person and Joost is heartbroken but Y/n is like No, I only like Joost!! And Y/n reaches out to him first and apologizes for all the drama and he asks her to come to one of his concerts??

LET ME THINK...

pairing . Joost Klein x fem-celeb! reader

content . fluff, reader is an actress, you are addressed as 'reader', reader is the same age as joost, fake social media screenshots,

summary . you announce that you are a huge fan of Joost Klein in an interview... and he sees it! He just so happens to be a huge fan as well.

word count . 1,9k words, 10,8k characters, 3 screenshots

author's note . guys i did it, i wrote part two. there will be a part 3 (maybe a part 4!!). the part 3 will include the dating drama...!!! ALSO ME AND KÄÄRIJÄ HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY, LETSGO

You honestly couldn't believe it. That your celebrity crush just said you were cute. That he's too shy to talk to you??? You found this out when you were in a Café.

Finn decided to take you out to a nice, but little Café. A nice outing with his “older sister”, he said.

You and Finn were chatting about recent drama you both recalled when your famous friend, Ella Purnell, suddenly FaceTimed you. As you answered, she said her quick hello and mentioned something about Joost responding to your interview. However, her words were muffled by background noise, and you only caught Joost's name. "What are you talking about?" you asked, a sense of panic rising within you, hoping it might just be a prank call.

Meanwhile Ella, between her hair and makeup session with her crew, urged you to check Twitter. "He responded to you... you'll be pretty happy to hear what he said," she exclaimed. With a mixture of dread and curiosity, you glanced at Finn before hurriedly opening Twitter to investigate. As you navigated to the trending section, your heart sank as you read the top headline: "JOOST REPLIED."

“Ah, shit.” Finn checks Twitter as well. His jaw slightly drops, probably an inch down. “He saw it?” Ella hums at Finn's question, “He probably saw the interview right as it dropped.” Finn nodded.

You freeze as you click on the button, two tweets on your screening both saying that Joost Klein responded to Reader Lastname. You clicked on the clip attached to one of the tweets. It was Joost in his iconic blue spiked-shouldered suit. Appie and Stunje are barely on screen.

The video starts on by Joost speaking, "well, I am honestly very flattered that someone beautiful as her would be interested in me."

He continues, "When I saw the interview, I froze! She is one of my favorite actresses. Reader is amazing at her job!" The interviewer chuckled, "Oh! Well maybe you should message her!"

"No, no! I am too embarrassed to make the first move...

“But she is very pretty.”

You were in a state of frenzy, alternating between giggling uncontrollably and wiping your sweat that was on your forehead. You were also kicking Finn's legs in excitement. "Will you stop doing that?" Finn chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. The video repeated, indicating that you watched the whole clip.

Both Ella and Finn witnessed your surprised expression. “Amazing, right? That means you have a chance!” Ella shouted, trying to make herself more audible over the commotion behind her. “I think I'm going to faint.”

Finn placed his hand on his own forehead, looking at the video one more time. Never before had you felt so embarrassed and dizzy in your life. “You should text him.” Finn smiles at his friend, placing his phone down on the table, lifting his fork. “You know what,”

You take a moment to think about it. Maybe you should make the first move. Well, you kind of had to, since Joost quote-ly wasn't.

“Alright, I'll text him-!” Ella and Finn cheered you on, “Atta girl!”

As you reached for your phone to check your contacts, a sudden realization washed over you.

"I don't have his number," you muttered, a sense of disappointment creeping in. Finn and Ella, who had been cheering you on moments before slowly, gradually fell silent. "Well, shit," Ella exclaimed, her tone reflecting a mix of frustration and disappointment.

She glanced away from her camera phone, redirecting her gaze to the mirror in front of her.

“You can't DM him on Instagram, he doesn't have them on.” You don't question how she knows that. Okay, maybe she might have tried to message him about you when the interview first dropped, but she couldn't.

“How am I going to contact him?” Finn raises his cup of coffee to his lips, “We have connections…?” Finn suggested a solution but you weren't listening because he explained it too fast, or maybe because it wasn't that good… Ella sighs fidgeting with her baby hairs, “We should ask around. To see if anyone is close to him.” Ella's suggestion was the best one out of the two.

She picked up her phone, you can hear Ella start typing, in search of finding friends that know friends that know friends that know Joost.

Finn unlocking his phone on his way to mass message all his contacts.

…

How long has it been?

It felt like an eternity, but in reality, only about twenty minutes had passed. All you wanted to do is talk to (maybe) your future boyfriend.

You got a message back from someone in your contacts.

The three of you have tons of connections that you just asked around if anyone had his number, and after what seems to feel like hours...

YOU GOT IT!

You got Joost Klein's number from mutual friends. Your old co-star is friends with a Greece singer who is also friends with this Finnish rapper named Käärijä.

And Käärijä is really close with Joost...!!!

You got Joost's number from Käärijä, “What should I say?” You asked Ella and Finn. Your palms were very sweaty, emphasis on very.

“A simple hi would be good.” Ella said smiling, you couldn't tell if she was making fun of you or not. “What if he finds it weird that I got his number through his friend?”

“How else would you get it? He's ‘too shy’ to make a move. You had to get it somehow.”

Finn finished taking the last sip of his coffee before saying that. He lifted his eyebrows indicating that you should agree with him. “You know he's right. His friend probably already told him that you have his number. What if he's waiting for you?” Ella teasing you to hit the send button of your text.

...

And she was right. Joost was pacing around his room as he got the news from Käärijä. That the most beautiful woman, Joost's words, is going to text him any minute now. “I don't think I'm ready.” He admitted aloud, the weight of anticipation and nerves settling heavily on his shoulders.

Joost has loved your movies and shows since your career started. You were a great actress and had an even greater personality from what he has seen online.

Also, when you revealed that you knew some Dutch in an interview… he loved you even more. “What!? Why… Do you not like her?”

Joost sighs and backtracks, “I do! I'm just nervous. How would I reply to her message?” Käärijä lets out an airy laugh. “I'm not sure… But you'll figure it out!!”

He was no help, thought Joost. He sighed when he heard Käärijä's advice. The two of you were a nervous wreck.

Käärijä spoke again after hearing Joost's depressed sigh, "I'll help you think of a response when she does text you."

“What if I mess this chance up with her?”

/

"What if he thinks I’m weird?"

The air was filled with worry. “I don’t know…” Finn rolled his eyes, telling you that if you don’t bag him now, someone else will.

You knew he was right, so you swallowed all your embarrassment.

“Maybe a simple explanation?” You ask your two friends before sending your text. “Yeah, whatever, just send it!” Ella couldn't wait anymore, rushing you to send the message already.

“Alright, alright!”

You typed out your message: “hey joost, it's reader! I got your number from a friend of yours. wanted to say hey and if you're down to talk ^^”

“Is that good? Oh god, maybe I should just say ‘hey’.” Ella rolls her eyes, slightly annoyed from your overthinking, “It's great. Don't overthink it,” Ella chuckles at a thought that popped in her head, “He's already getting you stressed out and you guys aren't even together yet.” Yet. That word made your stomach twist into several knots. You and Joost haven't had a proper conversation yet.

There were a lot of “yet”s in your thoughts. Finn snapped you out of them, saying, “Listen even if you mess this up, there are other fish in the sea, right? You don't even know him that well enough to be stressing this much.”

Was that advice the best? It was decent but he was also somewhat right!

“What great advice, Finn, be my therapist!” Ella makes a mockery at him just for a good laugh. She was successful on making you laugh quietly while staring at the now empty plate in front of you.

“Whatever, I'm always right.” Finn scoffs, tilting his head to the side. “If you don't want to text him you don't have to.” You look directly into his eyes, you weren't quite sure what to say. “Yeah but…

“I want to.”

You straighten your posture and click the send button. Your three letter message is sent within five seconds of you pressing the send button. “Did she actually do it!?”

Ella asks Finn, nodding yet she couldn't see, “Holy shit, she did it!” Finn cheered quietly for you. “You did it, Reader!” Ella claps her hands together, bringing her tied hands in front of where her heart would be.

“I feel better.” Ella smiles at your comment, “I'm glad you took the first step. I have to get going now! But text me when he responds! Cheers!” Ella quickly ends the call after you and Finn say your goodbye to her.

You smile at Finn, the knots in your stomach going away. “Want me to take a photo of you?” Finn asked as he unlocked his phone to go to the camera app. He swooped some of his hair, that was once in front of his forehead, behind his ears.

“Duh!" When he finished taking a photo of you in the green Café, you snapped a picture of him as well.

It was later in the day, around six pm from where you were currently located at, the nice cool air breezing through you and Finn. When you first sent your text to Joost, it was around ten am, making it seven pm in the Netherlands. It took him around ten minutes to respond to your first text. It was him reassuring you that he was down to chat.

The conversation lasted for a couple of hours, getting to know each other well enough within the four hours he had. The talk ended due to Joost having to go to bed, him being nine hours ahead of you was sure frustrating, you wanted to talk for a few more minutes but respected his goodbye. The rest of the day was traveling around with Finn.

You were in Finn's car, in a random semi-empty parking lot. A little takeout box on your lap. You were staring at the sky, having thoughts, little ones that weren't going to stick for a while.

Finn placed down his tiny bow on his lap as well. "What are you think about?" He snapped you out of your thoughts. "I think you know who I'm thinking about..." He smiled at you, nodding his head slowly as he looked away. "Should've known."

Finn sighed, "Just spit it out already!" He could tell something was bothering you, something that may involve a certain Dutch man. You shake your head. "It's nothing bad." You take a moment to yourself. "Just feel nervous."

You shifted in your seat, facing Finn that was in the driver's seat. "He's really nice, sweet, and just overall understanding! I know we only talked for, what- four hours? But he's pretty decent from what I had."

Finn looked away, knowing you were right. "I like him more than the others." Finn smirked at you, with cheekiness, "I did some research."

You sigh, you slightly open your mouth, the tip of your tongue touching your inner cheek. "Of course you did!"

taglist . . . @poppymelonz @grassclippers @catch1ngmoths @beansnsoup @f4n3tt3 @smiley-roos @welcometowonkas @hatsunimikuuu @haela-ttt @iamirish @berryxblue @ki-wiix @hsthbs @ihrtmusicsblog @arisja3701 @morrrospotted @casuallyeating @evonevenik @hiraethberry @yaxily45 @katlolsblog @1lovef1sblog @hockeybae @arysbruv @bl0om-star @bineeeee @gigilovescatsx @non-lo-so0 @lovely-nightstars @frikandllbroodje @lovingyeet @frenchgirlsblog

white means i can't tag.

[koiiiji]

lookism x reader. between takes

summary ; lookism actually is a series, and all guys are just actors, same as you, so you happen to meet with them backstage.

starring ; seongji, jungoo, jongun, gimyong

SEONGJI x demon!reader

the bustling film set was alive with energy. you were taking a break from your role, when you spotted Seongji Yook across the lot. his team was filming scenes for “lookism,” in the mountains of cheongliang too. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friend. Seongji noticed you and waved, making his way over with a grin. “nice horns. going for a new look?”

you laughed, adjusting your tail. “just trying something different. how’s the day going on your end?” he shrugged, glancing at his hands and feet. “i feel kinda weird with this,” he said, gesturing to the fake extra finger on each hand and foot.

“really?” you asked ironically, pointing at your demoniacal makeup, horns on your forehead and the tail behind you. “i think we’re both quite the spectacle here”

as you both found a quiet spot to sit, the conversation flowed easily. you talked about your roles, shared behind-the-scenes stories, and teased each other about your costumes.

“you make a pretty convincing demon,” Seongji said, his tone teasing yet sincere. “i’d say you’re stealing the show.”

“thanks, but i think you’re the real star,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “i saw you on set, your scenes have been incredible, your appearance in “lookism” will blow the whole show.”

there was a comfortable silence, the kind only shared between good friends. yet beneath it, there was an unspoken tension, that nobody dared to speak about. Seongji leaned back, watching the crew set up for the next scene. “you know, i’ve always admired how dedicated you are to your roles.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words feeling more personal than casual. “thank you, Seongji, i really appreciate it!”

and before you knew it, the break was over, and you both had to return to your sets. as you stood, Seongji hesitated for a moment. “hey, maybe we could grab dinner after filming wraps up?”

the invitation hung in the air, filled with possibilities. “i’d like that,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement.

with a shared smile, you parted ways, the encounter leaving you with a sense of anticipation.

JUNGOO x pirate!reader

cozy coffee shop was bustling with the morning crowd. you felt a bit out of place in your full pirate costume — with oversized shirt, high knee boots and tight corset, complete with a big hat adorned with feathers and all small accessories everywhere. your team took a break from filming, you all needed a caffeine boost. as you waited for your order, the door chimed, and in walked Jungoo Kim. you heard that his team filming “lookism” somewhere near your location. his costume torn in some spots and covered in fake blood, his skin in bruises from a fight scene and hair is messy. despite his rough appearance, he carried himself with his usual charismatic confidence.

your eyes met briefly, and you both did a double take. you recognized him instantly — you kinda were his fan, he is an actor you secretly admired and respected.

he recognized you as well, approaching with a playful grin, trying to play it cool. “ahoy there, captain,” he called out with a playful grin as he sauntered over. “looking for treasure, or have you already stolen it with that outfit?”

you laughed, tipping your hat. “just trying to keep myself and the crew in line.” you smiled, waving your head to the side where your set colleagues were sitting, feeling your cheeks warm. “and what about you, mister criminal? fighting off enemies before breakfast?”

Jungoo smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “thought i’d see if the rumors were true about a captivating pirate queen causing a stir. seems they were right.”

you leaned back on the counter, smiling conspiratorially at him, playing along with his little performance, “ah, so you're not here by chance, and it's you the one who are looking for treasure here” you smiled teasingly, lifting your chin, the feathers on your hat trembled slightly.

“well, you caught me,” he chuckled, eyes twinkling. “i do have a knack for looking for treasures. maybe i should join your crew — think you could handle the competition?”

“only if you promise not to steal my spotlight,” you bantered back, imagining him in a tricorn hat and boots.

Jungoo leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “i promise to keep the spotlight firmly on you. though, i might steal a dance from the captain.”

the playful exchange left you smiling, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than expected.

“i have to admit, i’ve been a fan of your work for a while,” he confessed, suddenly trying to sound nonchalant. “your performances are always captivating.”

surprised and flattered, you replied, “really? i’ve been following your career too. your fight scenes with sword are legendary.”

but as the director burst into the cafe and barked at everyone, urging them to return to set to start filming, Jungoo offered you a wink. “break a leg, captain. i’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”

with a wave, you returned to your role, feeling a bit more buoyant from the encounter.

JONGUN x black swan!reader

film studio was a maze of sets and props, buzzing with activity. you were navigating the corridors, adjusting to the thick black eye lenses you wore for your role as the black swan in upcoming film. they made everything difficult to see, but the effect was stunning on camera.

as you carefully made your way to the break room, you suddenly collided with someone. the impact, unexpected and strong, caused you to lose your balance and fall.

“whoa!” a deep voice exclaimed. you found yourself looking up at Park Jongun, who was also wearing the same intense black lenses for his role on the neighbor set.

“i’m so sorry!” you said, embarrassed as you tried to regain your footing. Jongun quickly helped you up, grabbing your wrist, pulling. you to his broad chesr, a little harder then he should have. his grip steady. “no, it’s my fault. these lenses make it hard to see anything.”

“tell me about it. i’ve been bumping into everything.” you laughed softly, brushing yourself off. he glanced at your costume, noticing the contrast between your delicate ballerina attire and his all bruised and blooded body makeup. “looks like we’re playing quite opposite roles.” he said, finally losing his grip and letting you go.

“yeah,” you admitted, feeling a bit self-conscious. “i had to lose a lot of weight for this role, so i’m not exactly steady on my feet.”

Jongun offered you a charm smile. “you look incredible, though. very convincing as a ballerina.”

“thanks,” you replied, appreciating his kindness. “i’m guessing you’re the tough guy in your film?”

he nodded, a hint of pride and amusement in his voice. “yeah, shiro oni, always ready for few crazy fights. but i promise i’m not as scary in real life.”

as you continued talking, you found Jongun to be easygoing and surprisingly funny. you shared stories about your roles and the challenges of filming with these horrible jet black lenses.

“next time, we should get a guide dog,” he joked, making you laugh.

“or maybe just a cane,” you suggested, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

eventually, it was time to return to your respective sets. “it was nice bumping into you — literally. let’s try to meet again when we can actually see each other.” Jongun smiled dazzlingly again, gently clasping your wrist, and leaving a light, soft kiss your knuckles.

“deal?” he asked with a charm grin, while you stand there smiling shyly, feeling a newfound connection.

“i’d like that,” you replied, feeling grateful for the unexpected encounter. with a wave, you both headed back to work, the meeting leaving you with a smile and the possibility of a new connection.

GIMYONG x targaryen princess!reader

sun was beginning to set over the bustling film set near the sea, casting a warm glow on the neighboring sets of two popular series. one set belonged to the fantasy series where you played a targaryen princess, and the other to the hit show "lookism," where Gimyong had one of the main roles.

he had often glanced toward your set during breaks, intrigued by the regal world of dragons and thrones. he'd heard about y&u from mutual crew members and quietly admired you from afar.

but today, fate seemed to favor him. a scheduling overlap meant both productions were on a break simultaneously. seizing the opportunity, Gimyong wandered over, pretending to be curious about the elaborate set design.

as you stepped outside, still in your flowing, black gown embroidered with red and gold threads, depicting scales, tails and heads of dragons on the sleeves and collar. you saw Gimyong standing nearby, looking somewhat out of place in his black coat. classic black trousers, white shirt and loafers amidst the medieval backdrop.

“hey, aren't you from "lookism?"” you asked, recognizing him from the posters plastered around the studio. he abruptly pulled his hand away from the blue weird machine that soon will be turned into your dragon with computers cgi effects help. he beamed at you, intensively nodding. he was a bit surprised but pleased you knew of him. “yeah, i'm Gimyong. i've been curious about your set for a while. it's got quite the atmosphere.”

you smiled, appreciating his interest. “it's definitely a different world over here. i'm [y/n], by the way.”

“it's nice to finally meet you,”he said, but paused himself for a moment, glancing back at weird blue platform. he noticed once, that your team usually shoot scenes of flying on dragon's back on this thing. brilliant pick up line immediately was born in his head.

“sooo that’s supposed to be your dragon on screen, right?” he grinned, swinging onto the platform from behind, trying to play it cool, but it came out a little awkward, as you can see he is clearly nervous. you giggled softly, but decided to play along, already understanding what he was leading to.

“yes, his name is Vermithor, really huge dragon.” you elegantly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide a shameless smile, at Gimyong’s attempt to flirt.

“you know, im kinda dragon myself, being the son of a golden dragon… so how about safe the dragon and ride-” you couldn't let him finish the sentence, bursting into laughter from his pickup line and such a self-confident face. Gimyong was truly humongous man.

in fact, he was not confused or upset by your laughter, because in the end he amused you. his light laugh joined yours and he was happy that he made you laugh.

“no, but seriously, i’ve heard great things about your performance.”

“thank you! it’s been a dream role for me,” you replied warmly, your genuine smile still playing on your lips. “i’ve seen a few episodes of lookism — i absolutely in love with it! your character is such a gentleman.” you exclaimed admiringly, remembering all the scenes where Gimyong was filming with his 'mother', and how cheerful his character was, representing a wonderful leader.

as you talked, the conversation flowed naturally, and Gimyong felt his initial nervousness fading away. he found himself captivated not just by your talent, but by your genuine enthusiasm and kindness.

“maybe you could give me a tour of your set sometime?” Gimyong suggested, hoping to extend the conversation — and his time with you.

“i’d love that,” you replied, intrigued by the idea. “and maybe i could visit yours. i’ve always been curious about how you bring such a cool fightings to life.”

with a shared promise to explore each other’s worlds, Gimyong returned to his set with a newfound excitement. meeting you had been even better than he imagined, and he couldn't wait when you will visit his set, to show off in front of you with his skills and muscles.

[bones4thecats]

Hi I see you’re request are open can I ask of transformers animated Optimus x female bot Vaggie reader , she use to be an elite guard but after she spare the life of an decepticon she was punish by her superior (sentinel spark mate) by cutting her optic and taking away her position

TFA! Optimus Prime w/ Vaggie-Bot! S/O

Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers Animated) Requester: 🩰Anon A/N: I'm gonna call you 🩰Anon, unless you're one of my other Anons. Which if you are please tell me and I can change it! Anyways, I hope you liked this! Also, there is no mention of the Lute-ified Cybertronian being Sentinel's sparkmate, but if you want her to be, you can imagine it. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of body mutilation, attempted murder, death, murder and trauma ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Optimus Prime ══════════════════════════╝

⚔️ Graduating alongside your old friend, Napier, you began to serve your Captain, Supersonic. Who, despite the fact he had a large processor, was a very good leader when it came to any kind of military issue

⚔️ Now, many cycles after your first day alongside the two Elite Guard members, you were now working with a space-bridge repair crew lead by your sparkmate, Optimus Prime, you were happily watching over Sari while her father worked

"Hey Y/N!" The young girl yelled from the ground.

"What's up, Sari?"

"Why do you have that patch on your eye?"

⚔️ Your one good optic widened as you reached up and felt the metal patch covering your opposite optic. The straight-edged black metal with a rose-red x on it making your digits repulse slightly

"It's a long story, you really don't wanna know." You said nervously.

"No! No! No! I've wanted to know as well!" Bumblebee said, standing up from behind the human child.

"Know what?" Bulkhead asked as he walked in.

"What happened to Y/N's optic."

"Oh yeah! Me three!"

"Now, now, you guys. If Y/N doesn't feel comfortable telling the story, they shouldn't have too." Optimus said as he laid a servo on your shoulder.

"I concur." Prowl said.

⚔️ Sari, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead all awed as you smiled gently and laid your servo on Optimus', assuring him that it was fine for them to ask you since they were far more innocent with the cost of serving underneath Ex-Captain Supersonic

⚔️ Motioning for them all to sit down, even having Ratchet join in right before you began the tale, much to his fake chagrin. You felt Sari finally situate her blanket around herself and lean into the large pillow she held to look at you and listen

"It all started during one of our patrols to check for any rogue Decepticons..."

»–•–«

⚔️ Walking side-by-side Napier, you smiled and nodded along with her rambles. She was speaking about how troublesome some of your previous classmates at the Autobot Academy were since they were joining your regiment under Supersonic

"Lieutenants Y/N and Napier."

⚔️ Turning around, you saw one of your Captain's mechs bowing lightly before standing and telling you that the titular mech wanted you and her to speak with him in his office

⚔️ Nodding along with his words like you did with Napier, the three of you walked down many halls towards the golden-office, stopping only until Supersonic allowed the door to be opened

⚔️ Sitting down with his pedes up on his desk as he sharpened his axe-like weapon, you bowed alongside your friend

"Captain Supersonic."

"Ah, just the two I wanted to see! We have an incident that needs immediate care."

"What seems to be this 'incident'?" Napier asked.

"There are some Decepticon signals being caught on this planet- uh... what was the planet's name again?" He asked the Bot who had escorted you both there.

"Bov 05UC, sir."

"Yeah! Bov 05UC. You two need to go there and arrest them, bring them back, and you'll be on my good side even more! How does that sound?" He said, leaning back to continue sharpening his weapon.

⚔️ Staring at Napier, you nodded before announcing your agreement to the departure

"Alright! You are both needed in the ship in... a megacycle. You might wanna get packin'."

"Understood, sir." Napier said.

"Have a good rest of your cycle, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. Get out."

»–•–«

"Wow! He sounds like a big scrap-head!" Bulkhead said.

"Well, you're not wrong. Captain Supersonic wasn't the most polite Cybertronian back home. I remember one time he literally came to me injured during the war and expected me to treat him like some prince! He was beyond arrogant with his title." Ratchet admitted.

"Anyways, Y/N, do continue," said Prowl.

"Yes, well, when we arrived on the planet, that was when the incident occurred."

»–•–«

⚔️ The sound of swords clashing was all you could hear besides the screams of the inhabitants of Bov 05UC running away from the fighting

"Y/N, that 'Cons getting away!" Napier yelled, pointing her sword at a runaway Decepticon.

"I got 'em!" You yelled back, chasing after the enemy.

⚔️ Landing from the jump before the alleyway, you watched the short Decepticon turn around. It wasn't a grown Cybertronian, it was a young one... a sparkling...

⚔️ Sorrow filled you as you lowered your spear from attack mode from seeing their fearful optics

⚔️ Stepping towards him, you hushed him in an effort to keep him safe and quiet so that Napier or another guard couldn't hear you sparing his life

"Go. Run now!" You whispered as the little one ran off.

⚔️ Hearing steps behind you, you were shocked to see both Napier and Captain Supersonic there. Napier then grabbed your arm, pulling you towards her, before striking you down with her own sword

⚔️ You screamed in pain as she stabbed your fallen optic into the ground

"Decepticon-sympathizing filth like you has no place in the Elite Guard." She said, ripping your title and honor away from you in a single action.

⚔️ As the two walked away, you struggled to walk off. Only to be found by a random Cybertronian, one you didn't recognize. They kneeled before you with a shock-filled expression before covering your energon-bleeding wound with a large cloth from their carry-on compartment

»–•–«

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! So your friend, who you grew up with just- tore your optic out and took your position away from you like it was nothing! Who does she think she is?!" Sari yelled.

⚔️ Optimus looked at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as you smiled and patted Sari's little head with your digit

"It's fine now, Sari. I have a great life now. I have a real family. You guys care about one another like nobody ever did back in the Elite Guard. Well, at least the subgroup that Supersonic once led."

"You keep talking about him in past tense, did he like retire or something?" Bumblebee asked.

"Something of the sort..." You nervously answered.

⚔️ Ratchet stood up after you drifted off topic, finishing your answer honestly himself

"He went offline during another battle against Decepticons. Though, those ones were forced to be obedient against their will. Napier, by what I remember, was sent to prison for attempting to kill her fellow soldiers during a state of rage-driven madness."

⚔️ Sari's eyes widened as she looked back at you and Optimus

"You also said that you have a real family now... do you consider us family?" Bulkhead asked.

"Of course! Prowl's the oddball, Ratchet's the grumpy old-mech, Bee and Bulk are the younger siblings, Sari and Isaac are basically like the friends of the unit-"

"And you and Optimus are like the parents!"

"Huh?!" "What?!"

"Too much?"

"Just a tad..."

[bump1nthen1ght]

Fair Winds, Following Seas (M!Reader x M!Siren)

Pairing: Male!Captain!Reader x Male!Flirty!Siren

Genre: Pirates, Pining, Flirting

Word Count: 2257 words

Warnings: N/A

Summary: As a captain of a feared pirate crew, not much terrifies you. Not even keeping the company of a man-eating siren. 

Based on this request: (A/N: WHELP I clearly misread this request haha, a more accurate version of this request can be found here, but for now enjoy this piece!) May I request a flirty male! siren! reader with a male gruff pirate captain? I'll leave the details up to you! Love your works by the way, take all the dang time you need. :3

One of your favorite things about being captain is being at the helm. With nothing but an endless ocean in front of you and a steady grip on the wheel, you’ve never felt more at peace.

Except for right now, with an incessant rapping on your shoulder.

“Yes, Mr. Brightley?”

Your nervous, newest third mate jolts at your voice, probably just having worked up the nerve to approach you in the first place.

“U-um, the lookout has spotted a stranded person sitting out on the rock.” His shaky hands point out on the horizon, where a large outcrop stands solitary amidst the waves. The kind of rock that could sustain no other life than a seagull and crustaceans.

Your brow furrows.

“Really?”

“Yes, captain. The crew was wondering if we should stop and help them-”

“What do they look like?”

That stops Mr. Brightley in his tracks.

“Uh-”

“Check for me, will you?” You nod your head to the nearby telescope. Your ship is slowly riding the waves, the rock just within viewing distance.

Mr. Brightly shakily takes the scope, extending it and trying to catch any general features.

“Uh, long black hair, tan-” Brightley’s free eye squints, “It looks like they're wearing a sheet?”

You sigh.

“Tell the crew to get the rowboat ready, I’ll go and check this out.”

—

Your younger crew looks at you like you're crazy as you insist on going out to the rock by yourself, bringing nothing but a rope, a ladder and a bucket of fish with you. You told them you’ll be back in a few hours, another baffling fact.

As you row through the crashing waves,  a beckoning, melodic voice calls out to you.

“Oh, my savior!” The tenor calls out in fake falsetto, white linen flowing around his nude figure like Aphrodite. “I’ve been stranded for days. I thought I was a goner.” You throw a rope up the side of the rock, a snake-like hand grabbing it with precision. 

His face is beautiful, practically carved out of marble. His warm brown eyes are that of a doe, all innocent and alluring. “Whatever can I do to repay you?”

“Cut the crap, Harris.” 

You toss the pail of sea sweater directly into Harris face, the sheet wrapped around his chest going sheer. Harris just tosses his hair, water speckling like a rainbow as false skin fades into green scales, those doe eyes glowing a bright yellow and his demure smile becoming full of sharp teeth. He still resembles a human, a handsome one too, but this form is much more real.

“Ah, you always know how to make my day, Captain.”

Harris knots the rope around a sturdy rock, foregoing your rope ladder entirely and diving into the water with perfect precision. You roll your eyes.

“Showoff.” Haris flips back his long hair, now dark and tangled with sea water, as he pulls himself up onto the rowboat. His triceps flex and he gives you a wry smirk “You know you could send me a letter, like a normal friend does. Don’t have to do-” You gesture to the giant rock, to the diaphanous sheet now barely hanging off his hips, “-all this.”

“Nonsense, Captain.” Harris leah's over and sends a wave to your crew, most likely absolutely gobsmacked at this point. “These meetings are special! Special things deserve some drama.”

Harris flops his body over your legs, hand thrown over his forehead like the cover of a bodice-ripper. The sheet wraps around his waist, somehow making his sharp v seem all the more pronounced.

You scoff, setting your large oars aside and giving your arms a break. The sun is bright today, reflecting off the wear and right into your eyes. Sweat has begun to pool onto your brow.

A calloused, scaly hand runs up the side of your face, drawing your attention. The tips of Harris’ claws just graze your skin, lingering over a strip of puckered skin right by your jaw, no bigger than an inch.

“Is this new?”

You hum, remembering the scuffle at the bar they gave you the scar. It wasn’t even a good enough story to tell, the mark itself easily covered up by some facial hair, if you wanted to.

“Well, it makes you no less handsome.”

Harris sits up on his elbows, eyes dangerously darting across your lips. His tongue, long and black, darts in between his teeth.

You throw your thighs up and even Harris’ strong core isn’t enough to keep him steady. He falls off of you, quite ungracefully.

“Hey! Watch the merchandise, these looks are important, y’know?”

Harris brushed back his hair, showing off the sharp cut of his jaw and his perfectly pushed up cheekbones. They glimmer green and gold in the sunlight.

You grab a fish from the bucket and throw it in his face. Harris catches it between his teeth. He gives you a wink as blood and bone crunch under his fangs. 

“Hope you like mackerel, cause that's all you're getting.”

Harris pushes your knee in jest, lips so pouty, but graciously accepts the heaps of fish you give him. You’re lucky you're almost completely nose-blind, as you're sure the boat reeks of fish guts and brine at this point. 

“Now tell me Captain,”” Harris says, still picking flesh from his teeth, “-what ya been up to?”

“Nothing much.”

“You always say that.” Harris whines, stripping flesh clean of the bone with one bite. “Must I pry out every battle and plunder you’ve gone through? You’re a fearsome pirate Captain, brag a little.”

“This coming from the man who's been inside the Marianas Trench and didn’t tell me until I knew him for a year. ” You pull out a fresh orange, thankful you didn’t get any of the fish-stink on your hands. “Pot calling kettle black, Harris.”

“Ugh, you’ve seen the Marianas Trench once you’ve seen it you’ve seen it 

hundred times.” Harris throws a fish bone over the side, crossing his arms and leaning on your seat. “Now, suck it up and tell me about a ‘port’ of some sort!”

This was how it always went with Harris. For a siren, he was weirdly fascinated by your land-locked tales. You’d think he’d hate human stuff, given you met when rescuing him from a fishing net.

“Meh. Some sirens are shitty, some sirens are good. I’m sure humans are the same. I mean, you seem pretty cool.”

The next time your paths crossed had been accidental. Harris almost lured one of your men over the side. But after that snafu, he agreed to let the poor soul go in exchange for another story, something exciting like you had distracted him with when cutting him free. 

After that began the trade; he told you about his underwater escapades, you told him about your land ones. You seemed to be like magnets, paths always crossing in a wide wide ocean. 

“Ooh, like this.” Harris lunges forward, clawed hand going for your neck. After years of this, you don’t even flinch. The claws pull at the lace of your new necklace, pulling out the mother-of-pearl pendant ensconced in gold in the center. “I bet this has a story. Where did you get this from?”

“Hmm, just a bet gone right at a port bar. The one I told you about, with all the seashell decorations”  It was a common haunt of you and your crew, your face well known and respected. “Stupid bastard just wouldn't stop playing. He must have been a stupid noble or something, trying to make it on his own. Too much gold and not enough sense.” You look at the pendant, seeing the faint colors shimmer in the sunlight. “He only quit after he lost this, must’ve been an heirloom cause he got real red in the face afterwards. Lunged at my neck with a fork.” 

“Oh! Oh! Did you stab his hand into the table? Did you grab him by the collar, hold your sword up to his neck and say ‘Unhand me, fool, or I’ll wear your guts for garters’?”

You raise your eyebrow.

“You’ve been reading too many of those romance novels. No, I punched him and he was out like a light.”

Harris flops down, a pout.

“Well, what about the gold?”

“Spent most of it that night. Well, the crew did. I think they bled that poor tavern dry.” You laugh, fiddling with the pendant. That had been a fun night. “I held onto the rest.”

“Well surely you spent some of it. Didn’t you party with your crew?”

“Nah, I love the lads but they make poor company when drunk.”

“Hmm, so you prefer the company of others.” Harris wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward and an elbow. “Anyone in parti-cu-lar?” Harris gives an exaggerated wink, scrunching up his cheek and all.

You aren’t moved by the performance

“Like I said, too many romance novels.”

“Oh come on!” Harris grabs another fish, ripping its head off with one movement. “Do you know how small the eligible siren population is? There's only about 500 of us, and you’re lucky if the siren you're courting isn't an ex's ex of an ex. There’s like, thousands of you humans-”

“More like billions-”

“-and you’re saying no one comes to mind? Not even a young ingénue waiting for their fearsome captain to come back from the sea? Or pining over that rugged lover they took one night, who blew their stockings right off?” Harris takes a bite of the fish, spitting out pieces of bone over the side. He leans forward further on his elbows, chin just inches from brushing against your thigh. “You’re telling me they don’t just throw themselves at you, Captain. You? Surely there must be someone who caught your eye.”  Harris gestures to your whole body. 

You exhale through your nose, staring right into Harris' deep yellow eyes. You’re no artist, nor a writer, but you wonder what the right words would be to describe him.

Someone with big eyes, with that aquiline nose. Whose eyes are like the sunset on the water, clear yet vibrant. With a black tongue, sharp teeth and even sharper claws.

“Nope, no one.”

Harris rolls his eyes, shoving your thigh with a half-strength push. 

“Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll pry you open one day, Captain.”

Fortunately, the conversation quickly drifts from your love-life to his recent misadventures. Mostly boring, according to him; Riding the gulf stream all the way to Iceland, helping a whale calf back to its mother, and sinking an English ship with some siren buddies.

“All Royal Navymen, so not the tastiest meat. But my god, do they make interesting sport.”

You show him the scar on your side you have from when such a Royal Navyman had grazed it with a bayonet.

“Lost lots of blood. But I walked away with my head intact, can’t say the same for him.”

“Not that he had much to begin with.”

That gets a laugh.

Only the setting sun can cut your meetings short, the night at sea bringing a deathly chill you’re ill equipped to deal with. Harris offers to pull your rowboat back to your ship, knowing how the sun tires you to the bone.

Curious crew members flee from the side as Harris draws closer, his handsome face poking out above the water. You’re sure some of them have already stuffed cotton in their ears, terrified of Harris. It takes your second hand, Ricky, to let the rope ladder down after you call everyone else cowards.

“I see what you mean about your crew, Captain. Who’d be afraid of little ole me?”

He presses a finger to his cheek in faux innocence, smile still filled with teeth. You splash some more water in his face.

You hop onto the bottom rung of the stepladder after typing up the rowboat, sluggish crew still too afraid to approach the side and pull the boat up. You turn back to Harris, who lingers in the water.

“Well, Farewell Captain! May your adventures be plentiful, so I have something interesting to listen to next time”

Harris propels himself upward, giving a dramatic bow half-way out of the water. You can’t fight the smile. Such a drama queen.

“Hey Harris?” You call back, now hanging off the ladder with one hand. The other gestures for Harris to come closer.

“Yes?” Harris asks, leaning up with brows furrowed.

His lips are just as salty as you’d expect. With only a three second peck, you’re already fiending for some water. It’d be harder to pull away, otherwise.

Those eyes are blown wide open, cheeks flushed an unnatural color you’ve never seen before. It’s a brand new expression on Harris, it shoots a pleasant bolt down your spine.

“Until we meet again.”

You tap the side of the rope, quickly yanked up by Ricky. You shoot only a glance back and see Harris, jaw dropped open like a guppy.

By the time you’re back on the deck, he seems to have dived back in the water, and your crew are pulling cotton out of their ears.

You give Ricky a pat on the back and he gives you a knowing smile. He’ll never let this go, that’s for sure. 

You saunter off into your quarters, Mr. Brightley and the rest still as befuddled as before.

“Absolute madman, he is.” Mr. Brightley says, wondering how he’d fit all your escapades into his letter to his sister. Hopefully her Captain was more sane than his.

[nanawritesit]

Your Highness - Sanji x Reader: Part Three (Final Part)

PART ONE PART TWO

plot: you’re a runaway princess bride who finds her way into the straw hat crew. you expected one hell of an adventure, but you never expected to fall for the head chef. things get even more complicated when your father, the king, and your ex-fiancé send their troops after the going merry. now you must choose between surrendering to save your crew and being with the only man you’ve ever truly loved. but of course, the straw hat crew isn’t going to let you go without a fight. especially sanji.

—————

A singular tear rolled down your cheek and splashed onto the skirt of your new wedding gown. Although it was an exact replica of the one you wore a few months ago, it felt much more constricting this time. The corset was cinched so tight that you could hardly breath unless you stood up perfectly straight. Part of you hoped that if you slouched, one of the wires might pierce through the fabric and stab you in the stomach, causing you to bleed to death. It seemed an easier fate than the one that awaited you.

Your ladies’ maids were all scurrying about, putting the final touches on your wedding look. You tried to keep a brave face for them, but your mask was beginning to crack. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Sanji had fallen to his knees when you left him, and that helpless look on Luffy’s face. Leaving them was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but at least it was better than watching them get killed.

How wonderful it would have been to spend the rest of your life on the straw hat crew, fighting alongside your dearest friends. You could’ve spent an eternity playing their princess. But all the wishing and hoping and loving you did couldn’t keep you from being yanked back into the role you were born into. And worst of all, it cost you the only man you’d ever truly loved.

Now you were about to walk down the aisle, and it absolutely killed you that Sanji wouldn’t be waiting for you at the altar.

“Your highness?” one of your maids interrupted your thoughts. “May I place your tiara on your head?”

You flinched at the use of your title. It would never feel the same being called “your highness” ever again.

“Yes, go right ahead.” you mumbled, shifting to cross your legs. Except you couldn’t, because they were chained to the chair beneath you.

You groaned, stomping your heel on the ground. “Father is relentless, isn’t he?”

Once your maids were done getting you ready, they all exited the room and sent in your father, just as they were instructed to do. You weren’t to be left alone for even a second, even though you were literally chained to your chair.

“Ah, there’s my princess.” your father beamed as he entered the room. “You make a beautiful bride.”

You gave him a strained fake smile. “Wonderful. My only job in life is complete.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. You’ll also have to give birth to at least ten children.” he chuckled cruelly, leaning down to unlock the chains around your ankles.

You bit your tongue angrily. You wanted to kick the heel of your shoe straight through his eye. But you’d probably be thrown in the dungeon if you did, and no one would be on your side during your trial. You hated having the king as your father.

He helped you up out of your chair, then grabbed your shoulders and looked at you intensely. “I hope you understand who you belong to now. If you try to run away again…”

“You don’t have to worry about that, father.” you explained apathetically. “I have nothing else to live for now.”

“Good.” he grinned, linking his arm with yours. “Let’s go give you away.”

Your father led you down the long hallway to the doors of the chapel. As they opened for you, you could feel your soul splitting in half inside of you. Your guests all looked so happy, while you were fighting back sobs and focusing solely on placing one foot in front of the other.

As you reached the end of the aisle and your father lifted your veil off your face, you felt as if you might collapse onto the floor. But you just held your head up high, no sign of sorrow on your features. You weren’t going to let anyone see you be weak.

The priest began the service. You glanced over at your fiancé, who in contrast looked absolutely thrilled to be there next to you. You could tell he couldn’t wait to push you around and force you to be a perfect wife for him.

The priest was instructed to make the service as short as possible, in order to minimize the amount of time you could possibly run away. “Do you, Princess Y/N, take the Prince to be your lawfully wedded husband, as long as you both shall live?”

You froze. Your brain was telling you to say “I do,” but your heart was fighting against it. It felt like the air was sucked straight out of your lungs, preventing you from speaking.

“Say it.” your fiancé hissed through gritted teeth.

You gulped. “I…”

“Stop!” a voice called out, echoing against the chapel walls. Everyone immediately gasped and whipped their heads around, including you. Your heart stopped as you saw who the voice had come from. It was Sanji, power-walking up the aisle with the rest of the straw hat crew trailing in behind him.

“Sanji!” you cheered, dropping your bouquet and running to embrace him. You practically leaped into his arms, to which he caught you and twirled you around, a wide smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think I was going to lose my princess without a fight, did you?” he smirked, taking your veil off and throwing it across the room.

“Guards! Seize them!” your father ordered, standing up in his pew. In an instant, the guards were encroaching upon your crew. They all readied their weapons, attacking them upon confrontation.

“Y/N!” Zoro called out. You looked over to him, and he tossed you one of his swords. “Take this, and escape through the back. The ship is waiting in the port. We’ll be there as soon as we take care of these guys.”

You nodded, turning around to exit the chapel through the acolyte’s wing. As you exited the chapel, it was a straight shot through one long hallway out of the castle. You began sprinting down the hallway as fast as you could, picturing your freedom at the end of it.

Halfway down however, a presence emerged from the door behind you. You stopped in your tracks as you glanced behind you, gasping as you saw your father.

“I must say, your friends are better fighters than I thought.” he sneered, walking towards you with cold, calculated steps.

“Just let me go father.” you demanded, backing away from him. “I’m never going to be the person you want me to be.”

“Let you go?” he scoffed. “You belong to me. You’re either going to do as I say, or kneel in pieces.” He suddenly flipped open his cloak and revealed a sword on his hip, unsheathing it from its holder and brandishing it at you.

Without thinking, you held your sword out straight in front of you and assumed a fighting stance. In an instant, you and your father were swept up in a duel, clunking your swords against one another’s’ and spinning around the room.

“I must say, you’re a phenomenal swordsman.” your father grunted. “It is in your genetics after all.”

You scoffed. “It has nothing to do with you. I learned from Zoro.”

He furrowed his brow. “Who’s Zoro?”

“The world’s greatest swordsman.” you practically spat. In the midst of your father’s confusion, you spun around, kicking against the wall to jump up on a nearby table, landing with perfect balance. Using your high ground to your advantage, you kicked your father in the chest, causing him to fall to the ground flat on his back and drop his sword. You held the blade of your sword against his throat threateningly.

“Please, don’t… you win.” the King pleaded, holding up his hands in surrender.

“How do I know you won’t come after me again?” you demanded, pressing the blade even further to his flesh.

“You have my honor as a king.” he whimpered, trembling slightly.

“Give me your ring.” you ordered. “So that wherever I go, no one will ever bring me back here.”

He slid his ring off his finger and handed it to you. You placed it on your own finger and backed away from him slowly.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he sat up. “I suppose you’re not a princess after all.”

“I am a princess, father.” you told him with a satisfied smile. “I’m just not yours.”

And with that, you took off through the back doors of the palace, seeing the crew leaving through the front at the same time.

“Guys! Wait up!” you called out, running up to them.

They all turned around in surprise.

“Y/N? We thought you’d be back at the ship by now.” Nami questioned, an amused smile on her face.

“I had to tie up some loose ends.” you smirked, holding your hand up to showcase your fathers’ ring. Everyone’s’ eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Is that…” Sanji began, holding your hand to inspect it.

“My father’s ring.” you finished with a proud grin. “I fought him for it, and I won.”

“Yes! I knew you could do it!” Zoro beamed, patting you on the shoulder supportively. You swore it was the happiest you’d ever seen him.

You nodded excitedly. “This whole time I was worried I wasn’t going to be any good in a fight. But after taking on a king, I’m pretty confident in my skills.

“Well, now that there’s nothing standing in your way, are you reading to be our princess again?” Luffy asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course I am, captain!” you squealed, causing everyone to enclose you in a huge group hug.

“Three cheers for the princess of the Going Merry!” Ussop cheered.

—————

Once the ship was back on the sea, you had gone into Sanji’s room with him for a moment alone.

“I can’t even begin to describe how thrilled I am to have you back.” he sighed, enveloping you in a tight embrace as soon as the door shut behind you.

“You don’t know how good it feels to be back.” you replied, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I was so relieved when you burst through those doors.”

Sanji smiled, leaning back to look you in the eye. “Well, it only took us about fifteen minutes to decide that we were going after you. Speaking of which, did we prove to you that we can handle ourselves in a fight?”

“Yes, you did indeed.” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I hope I did the same?”

He nodded admiringly. “You didn’t even really need us to save you. You won your own freedom.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” you told him. His face broke out in a huge grin as he leaned down to kiss you. You met him halfway, and as soon as your lips connected, it felt like all was right in your world again.

“Please don’t ever leave me again.” Sanji requested in a voice barely above a whisper, his forehead still pressed against yours. He was squinting his eyes, brows furrowed in desperation.

“I promise I won’t. And this time, I mean it.” you replied. He then kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands moving up from your waist to cup your face. You brought one hand up into his golden locks for stability, then brushed your tongue against his lips. He allowed it to pass by slipping his own tongue along your lips, the two of you now fully immersed in each other.

“I love you, Y/N.” he told you breathlessly between kisses. “Every single part of you.”

“I love you too Sanji.” you told him, practically gasping for air. “More than anything else in this world.”

He began kissing down your neck. “You look beautiful in a wedding dress, you know that?”

You giggled, tightening your grip on his hair as he nipped lightly at your skin. “You always think I look beautiful.”

“Because it’s always true.” he winked, going back up to kiss your lips. He deepened it slightly, then bit your lip at the end, releasing it from between his teeth before looking you in the eye once more. “Still, it’d be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress.”

You chuckled. “What are you saying, Sanji?”

He smirked, then grabbed your hands tenderly in his. He started lowering himself to the ground, kneeling before you on one knee. Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

“Y/N… From the day I first met you, I have been absolutely enamored with you.” he began, happy tears pooling in his pale blue eyes. “You continue to surprise me every single day with your strength, kindness, and never ending talents. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met, and I would be honored if…” He then pulled a box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring. “If we could spend the rest of our lives together?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment, before nodding profusely. For a moment you couldn’t find any words. He just looked at you expectantly, a playful grin on his face. He gestured his hand impatiently, causing you to giggle.

“Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you Sanji!” you finally blurted out, tackling him onto the ground.

He laughed as you did so, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing the top of your head. “Give me your hand, love.”

You did as he asked, and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You admired it, wincing at how beautiful it was.

“How did you even afford a ring?” you asked him, propping an elbow up to lean your head against.

“I got help from a friend.” he grinned, reaching into his pocket once again. He pulled out a letter and handed it to you. You furrowed your brow in confusion, opening it up to read it.

“To my little poetry princess,

I would like to begin by stating just how unbelievably proud of you I am. I always knew you would do great things, ever since you were a child. You had a spark in you that I knew would get you through any challenges you could ever face, and that one day you would have the great life of adventure you so desired.

While I will be sad to see you go, it brings me great comfort to know that you’ll be in the hands of someone like Sanji. I’ve only met him once, and that was to set up your rescue. But the way he spoke of you! I have never in all my years heard a man talk so fondly of a lady. He obviously cares for you tremendously. I know he’ll make a wonderful husband. This ring has been in my family for generations, and I would like you to have it, as you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter.”

You should be incredibly proud of yourself, my dear. Not many princesses have the courage to stand up for themselves. To chase after what they truly want in this world. To say they’re not happy with the part they’ve been assigned. You are truly special, princess, and it’s been my great honor raising you these past twenty years. Should you ever find yourself in Dacovia again, I should like to receive a visit from you and your husband. Oh, and do write often!

Love,

Your Governess”

You sniffled and wiped away the stray tear that hung at the corner of your eye. “So she was the one who got you guys into the castle?”

Sanji nodded with a smirk. “I told you, your loved ones will always want the best for you.”

You jumped on him once again, catching him off guard but making him chuckle nonetheless. You began attacking his face in kisses, not being able to hold back your affection.

As you ran out of energy, you sighed and laid back down on the floor next to him, holding his hand gingerly. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

He smiled that perfect smile of his, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m going to make you so happy, your highness.”

“I already am.” you told him. “As long as you’re here next to me.”

—————

TAGS:

@genshingeeksworld @gg-trini @sinmp @mitsureigen @fanficwriter5 @sophiaj650 @number-0-iz @tr4shygrrl @ren-ni @secretlife028 @sapphireonline @seodami

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 9

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 3.4k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut, vaguely referenced past abuse

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 9: A Tale of Three Swords

You sat at the worn wooden table in the bustling galley, your foot tapping impatiently against the floor as you picked at your breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the alluring scent of Sanji's cooking, but your mind was elsewhere, consumed with thoughts of the forge awaiting your return.

The door creaked open, and one by one, the members of the Straw Hat crew trickled into the room, their voices rising in animated chatter as they greeted each other with hearty laughs and wide smiles. Luffy bounded in first, his infectious energy filling the room as he plopped down beside you, his stomach growling loudly in anticipation of the meal to come.

Nami followed, today’s news under her arm as she settled herself not far from you, her sharp eyes flicking between the articles and the crew members gathered around the table. Usopp joined her, his eyes landing on your anxious form.

“You alright, (Y/n)?” He asked.

You offered him a weak smile. “I’m fine, Usopp.” You replied your tone more curt than intended. “Just itching to get back to work” you explained.

Nami shot you a sympathetic glance from across the table, her expression softening with understanding. “I know it’s hard, but you need to listen to Chopper” She chided gently as she turned the page she was reading.

You sighed. “I know, I know,” you muttered, stabbing at your food with more force than necessary.

You didn’t see Nami blanch, only looking up after Robin asked her what was wrong. Your wanted poster had fallen out of the pages of the newspaper.

1 billion Berry.

You knew it was coming. It still didn’t soften the blow.

“Pass me that, would you?” You asked with a small smile, gesturing at the newspaper Nami was holding.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea” She said meekly.

Ah. It was bad then.

“I’ll be alright, Nami” you assured her, prying the paper out of her grip.

The Blacksmith of Hell joins the Straw Hat Pirates after annihilating a marine base. You snorted. Blacksmith of hell? They couldn’t come up with something… better? You continued reading, your eyes settling on the phrase ‘No survivors’. You hadn’t held out much hope, but you’d still wished for something else.

You handed back the papers to Nami, trying to keep the inner turmoil of your emotions off your face. “Not too tempted to turn me in? Imagine the things you could buy with a billion Berry” You joked, the mirth in your voice not reaching your eyes.

Nami’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and empathy etched across her features. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said firmly, her voice tinged with indignation. She started to say something else, but you cut her off, not wanting to have the conversation she was heading towards.

“What’s all of you guys’ bounties anyways?” you asked in fake cheerfulness.

It seemed to distract them enough. You listened half-mindedly at their responses and arguing. You leaned back as you watched Zoro settle in front of you.

“What about you, swordsman?” You asked him after everyone had answered.

“120 million,” he said under his breath.

“That’s it?” You snorted.

He scowled.

You made a quick tally in your mind. “So… I’ve more than doubled your collective bounty.”

Zoro’s expression darkened at your remark, his jaw clenching visibly as he shot you a withering glare. “Don’t get too cocky, Witch,” he retorted, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation. “Bounties don’t mean a damn thing when it comes down to it.”

You raised an eyebrow in amusement, unfazed by his hostility. “Oh, I’m well aware,” you replied, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “But it’s still amusing to think about, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry about it (Y/n)! I’m going to surpass you in no time.” Luffy exclaimed.

You laughed. “I’m counting on it, Luffy. Makes no sense for a blacksmith to have a higher bounty than their captain’s”

You pushed your empty plate away from you before leaning forward, an evil glint in your eyes. “Let me study your swords, Mr. 120 million” You demanded.

His eye twitched. “No.”

The crew’s attention went back to what they’d been doing, uncaring of the familiar argument about to take place.

“Aw, come on! I’m not allowed in my forge! Let me study your swords, swordsman” You said with exasperation.

“If you think I’m letting you close to my swords, you’re out of your mind, witch” He retorted, crossing his arms in defiance.

“Do you have to be such an asshole about it?” you asked, condescension lacing your tone. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind, let me study them!”

“Your temper tantrum isn’t going to change my mind, brat” he snarled.

“Brat?” You screeched. That was a new one. “Please, swordsman, I’m clearly older than you.” You scoffed looking him up and down. “I bet you can’t even grow a beard, you fuckin child.”

His eye narrowed at your taunt. “I’ll consider it if you let me hold that sword of yours” he turned the table of the argument on you.

You scowled. “You’re insane if you think I’ll let you do that.”

Zoro leaned in, his gaze unwavering. “Let me hold it.” He demanded.

“That’s enough, you two” Chopper’s voice cut in, stopping the argument as he entered the galley. “(Y/n) you need rest, not… this” He gestured frantically at the two of you. “Try to get along for once.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms defiantly. “Fucking glorified sword rack with an attitude” you muttered under your breath looking at the swordsman unabashedly.

“Temperamental witch” He muttered back, looking away.

Chopper’s exasperated expression mirrored your own frustration. With a sigh you apologized to the small reindeer, unable to withstand the guilt you felt at not listening to the doctor.

You watched as the sun lowered on the horizon. You hadn’t been able to shake off your anxiety nor the contents of the article out of your mind all day long. Everyone had unsuccessfully tried to distract you throughout the day. It was kind of them, but your mind was stuck on your forge, hands itching to create. You groaned, longingly looking at your workbench, visible through the doorway. With hesitant steps, you went in. Your eyes landed on your hammer.

“Soon” You told it, fingers grazing the hilt.

Instead, you turned towards the swords, displayed on the wall. They seemed to call to you. Without much thought, you grabbed them. Turning around, your eyes landed on the pile of steel. You yearned to take one in your hands, but you stopped yourself. Not yet. A deep, frustrated grunt escaped your lips as you turned away, your steps heavy with reluctance.

You made your way to the kitchen instead, the comforting smell of the sea air mingling with the faint aroma of cooking drifting from within. You entered the well organized room, the dim light casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Sanji was surprisingly out. You grinned at the luck of your timing. You clenched your swords under your arm, careful not to accidentally bump into the various objects in your path as you made your way towards the pantry. Your eyes scanned the shelves, searching for something, anything, to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Your hand reached out, fingers grazing the cool ceramic of a bottle of sake tucked away on the top shelf.

A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you retrieved the bottle, the promise of its contents offering a fleeting respite from the turmoil of your thoughts. With careful hands, you uncorked the bottle, the soft pop of the cork releasing a tantalizing aroma that filled the air with warmth and comfort.

“I wouldn’t let Chopper catch you with that” You froze, the bottle of sake suspended in your hand as Sanji's voice cut through the silence of the kitchen. With a quick, guilty glance over your shoulder, you found the cook leaning casually against the doorframe, his trademark cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

A sheepish grin spread across your face as you turned to face him, the bottle of sake held aloft like a guilty trophy. "You caught me," you admitted with a chuckle, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping into your cheeks.

Sanji's expression softened, his stern demeanor giving way to a knowing smile. "I won't tell if you won't," he said with a wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Relief flooded through you at his easy acceptance, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you recorked the bottle in your hands "Thanks, Sanji," you replied gratefully, a genuine smile playing at the corners of your lips.

He waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, his attention already drifting back to the stove where a pot of something sweet was bubbling away. "Just don't make it a habit," he admonished lightly, his tone tinged with mock seriousness.

You made your way out of the kitchen, looking both ways to make sure the small doctor wasn’t in sight. Satisfied, you let the door close behind you, eyes searching for a good hideout to wallow in your self-pity. The crow’s nest. Yes. That would be good.

You clumsily ascended the ladder, the bottle of sake and your three swords teetering precariously in your grip with each rung climbed. As you reached the top, you pushed open the trap door and peeked into the makeshift gym. The space was empty, only the soft hum of the wind against the windows shattering the silence around you.

Perfect.

With a triumphant grin, you collapsed against the wooden wall, the bottle of sake cradled in your arms like a precious treasure. You set your three swords in front of you in a neat row. Fingers fumbling, you uncorked the bottle and took a long, satisfying swig of sake, the fiery liquid warming you from the inside out.

As the sweet burn of alcohol danced down your throat, you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh, the stress and tension of the day melting away with each passing moment.

Just as you started to get lost in the comforting haze of drunkenness, the trap door creaked open, familiar green hair emerging. Zoro ascended the ladder with his usual nonchalance, his three swords strapped to his side, two bottles of cheap booze in his hand. His eye flickered with mild annoyance upon spotting you, but he said nothing, opting to lean against the opposite wall.

“Couldn’t find a better spot to get drunk?” he remarked, his tone laced with a mixture of boredom and irritation.

You shot him a mocking smile. “Thought I’d enjoy some peace and quiet. Can’t even take a shit without Chopper worrying about it.”

A snort of amusement escaped Zoro as he took a swig from his bottle, the bob of his throat catching the dim light.

Feeling the warmth of the sake coursing through your veins, you erupted into a drunken exclamation. "Ah! If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I'll kill you, swordsman." Your words slurred slightly, the alcohol adding a playful edge to your threat.

Zoro’s eyebrow raised in mild amusement as he took another sip. “I won’t” he said. “Besides you couldn’t land a hit on me even if you tried.”

Your lips curved in a mischievous grin, the effects of the sake making your movements sluggish. “Oh you’d be surprised” You slurred trying to get up unsuccessfully. “I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve than you give me credit for.” You let yourself slump back down.

The swordsman let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “That so?”

The unfamiliar sound of his laughter brought a soft heat on your cheeks before you let out a small laugh at your own condition. “Maybe not right now, and I’m actually shit with swords, so probably not with that but I bet I could land a punch…probably.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You know” you slurred, eyes falling down to the bottle in your hands. “I think you’re a real pain in the ass.”

His brows furrowed in annoyance at your words. His jaw clenched tightly as he glared at you. “Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual” he shot back, tone bitter.

You scoffed, taking a sip of sake. “But you know what?” You whispered against the bottle, your words barely audible over the sound of the wind. “Despite everything, I still think you’re a damn good swordsman.”

Zoro’s expression softened slightly at the unexpected compliment, his features relaxing into a reluctant grin. “And you’re a damn good swordsmith for a temperamental witch.” He muttered, his tone gruff yet oddly genuine.

You smiled.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you.

“What’s with the swords?” He asked after a while.

You looked up at him, an odd look in your eyes. “I thought I should have a conversation with these three” you said after long deliberation. “But I haven’t found what I’ve been wanting to say just yet.”

Zoro arched an eyebrow skeptically. “A conversation with your swords?” He repeated, his tone incredulous. “Are you that drunk, or did I miss something about talking weapons?”

You giggled, the alcohol making everything seem funnier than it was. “Not exactly talk” You start to explain. “But, if you learn to listen, steel will talk back to you. Each one has its own personality, its own spirit.”

Your gaze was soft as your eyes surveyed the swords before you.

“I think I know what you mean” He muttered softly.

“I’ve made over a thousand swords you know.” You said eyes not leaving the blades. “But these three are the only ones I’ve made with haki.”

He didn’t say anything.

“What I do... It’s a dangerous process.” You continued. “If I’m not careful, if I don’t control it well enough or if my attention wanders, the steel sucks in my own life force.”

You spot the slight shift in the stance of the swordsman as he listened to your words.

“My teacher figured that early on, but he was a greedy man.” Your gaze seemed far away as memories filled your eyes.

 Zoro’s eye remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable as you spoke, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. The soft glow of the moon highlighted the sharp features of his face.

You took another swig of sake, the warmth of the alcohol soothing the ache in your chest as you continued to share your thoughts with the swordsman. “Now that I look back, I was still just a child when he asked me to forge Uragiri. But when he asked me to forge him a sword, I was so proud. Proud that he would deem my skills good enough for him to carry it.”

Your hand went to the first sword before you. “I didn’t really understand the consequences back then, so I poured my soul into making this one.” You unsheathed it slightly. The gleam of the black blade reflected the moonlight. The air seemed to still for a moment. “If I had to guess, this one cost me at least three years of my life.” You twirled the blade in your hands, testing the balance. “It’s a beautiful blade, but it’s got a strong will. Very few can handle it.”

You looked back at the swordsman. “They’re not unlike cursed swords, you know.” You sheathed back the sword in your hand. “Ultimately, it drove him mad.” You took a pause, guilt, regret. You put back the sword before you. “He became violent after wielding it for a while. My sister took the brunt of it, but when we tried to escape, he shackled me to the forge. That’s when he made me make Yokubari.” Your eyes shifted to the infamous sword before you, taking it in your hands. Your fingers danced on the pommel for a few moments before wrapping against the silk wrap.

Zoro’s eye widened in alarm as he watched you unsheathe Yokubari, his hand instinctively reaching for one of his swords. The air crackled with tension as you allowed the sword’s power to wash over you, your haki merging with the blade’s soul in a familiar waltz.

For a moment, the crow’s nest seemed to pulse with the weight of Yokubari, its presence palpable in the air. Zoro’s grip tightened on Wado Ichimonji, his muscle coiled like a spring as he remembered his encounter with the sword.

“Don’t worry, I’m drunk, not dumb” you said with a chuckle at his reaction. You set the scabbard on the floor before bringing your hand alongst the sharp edge of the blade. “What happened back at the base…it was an accident. I lost control of my body before I could bring it into control.” There was sorrow in your gaze as you remembered your mistake. Your thumb danced too close to the edge, a bead of blood forming against your skin. “Yokubari and I, we’re one and the same. It’s a result of the suffering I endured at the time. Sometimes I wonder how many years of my life forging this blade has taken away from me… but I think I’d rather not know.”

The weight of your confession hung heavy in the air, the gravity of your words sinking into the swordsman’s consciousness like lead in water.

“In the end, his own greed killed him, when he tried to wield this stubborn sword.” You sheathed Yokubari with a bitter smile. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

You took a gulp of the sake, trying to make the ball of emotion in your throat disappear.

“It took me years before I made a sword again.” You pointed at the third sword before you. “Shiawase is the kindest of these three. Doesn’t mean it’s not a temperamental bitch though” You chuckled. “By the time I made it, I’d mastered the process of infusing steel with haki without much consequences but the process of making a blade of this quality is long. It took almost everything out of me.”

Zoro took a swig of his own bottle, his eye not leaving yours. “So.. that one.” He gestured towards Yokubari. “It’s the most troublesome one of the lot?”

You snorted. “That’s all you got out of the whole story?” Your tone was laced with irritation. “It’s not necessarily the most troublesome, but it’s the one that’ll kill you the fastest” You answered anyways.

Zoro’s eyebrow arched as he listened to your blunt response, a smirk playing on his lips. You tried to take a swig out of your bottle, only to find it empty.

“Damn it” You muttered under your breath.

“Here” He tossed you the unopened bottle next to him. The gesture saying more than he knew how to say.

You caught the bottle with a sloppy grab, the alcohol inside it sloshing as you fumbled to open it. Zoro observed your tipsy struggle, a subdued chuckle slipping past his stoic facade. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he reached over, his weathered fingers skillfully unscrewing the cap before casually handing it back to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, bringing the bottle to your lips for a long, liberating sip. The alcohol hit your senses with an unexpected intensity, a fiery burn coursing down your throat. It was strong. As you lowered the bottle, you glanced up at Zoro, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Now that you know what an amazing blacksmith I am," you began, your words carrying a hint of playful arrogance, "why don't you consider letting me delve into the secrets of your swords?"

Zoro responded with an exasperated eye roll, the subtlest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'll let you study them," he replied, his voice surprisingly soft, "on the condition that you allow me to wield yours."

Caught off guard, whether by the alcohol-induced haze or the unexpected warmth in his tone, you found yourself responding with an uncharacteristically contemplative tone.

"I'll... consider it," you admitted, a surprising openness in your words that lingered in the air like a shared secret between two souls navigating the blurry lines of camaraderie.

A comfortable silence settled over you as you both took a swig out of your respective bottles.

“Glorified sword rack with an attitude was a good one” he admitted, shattering the silence.

You laughed, a clear cheerful din reverberating on the windows of the crow’s nest.

He smiled.

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Masterlist

[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 8)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader, Jake Kiszka, x OC

Word Count: 23.0k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Allusions to Cheating, Lying, Jealousy, Manipulation, Sexual Themes, Crying. Smut: Kissing, Fingering, Oral F!Recieving, Oral M!Receiving, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: Thanks so much for waiting for us while we took our little break. We made this one extra long for you as a thank you for your patience.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

HER POV

​​“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Isla coos. “I have heard all about you.”

She what?

“About me?” you ask, a little taken aback. 

She grins and shrugs, dropping your hand as she eyes you, “Oh you know, just things…Little snippets here and there. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in this little circle of ours.”

You look over to Jake who is looking at you with a pleading expression. He knows he’s been caught. You quickly turn your attention back to Isla and swallow down your nerve, “Any impression I’ve made has been unintentional.”

She lets out a laugh that borders on the edge of fake, “Oh of course it was, love. You strike me as just the type that stumbles into leaving a lasting impression.”

You give her a fake smile, pretending that her subtle jab didn’t affect you, “Maybe so. Really was so nice to meet you, but I have a few things I need to deal with before we leave,” you say, nodding to her and resettling your purse on your shoulder. 

Her fake smile never falters, “Ah, yes. Duty calls I suppose.” She turns to glance at Jake who is standing frozen next to her, refusing to pay her any mind. Her jaw hardens as you walk away, noticing that Jake’s eyes seem to be fixated on you instead of her.

You make your way over to Murph, pulling your suitcase behind you, hoping no one can see the steam pouring from your ears. As you step up next to him, he cuts his conversation with Dean short, turning to look at you. 

“Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the group you just left. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” you lie, taking a deep breath. 

His brow furrows as he studies your face, squeezing your bicep in a reassuring gesture. You can tell that he knows you’re lying, but he knows better than to press for more. 

Thankfully the transport vans arrive outside, and the dizzying situation at hand seems to fade away in the chaos of getting to the airport. You were thankful to be in the crew van, as far away as possible from Jake and Isla. You spent most of the ride combing through your email and catching up on texts you’d ignored the past few days, and before you knew it you had arrived at Departures. 

As you made your way through security you noticed Jake’s eyes on you. You noticed again at the coffee stand. Then again as you tried to read your book at your boarding gate. You refused to look his way, but you could feel his eyes on you. You knew he wanted to talk, but you wanted to hear nothing that he had to say. You wonder why he is so focused on you when Isla is sitting next to him. Shouldn’t he be more concerned with her? You continue to ignore him, pretending to read the words on the pages in front of you, and letting your mind race with thoughts of Murph. Murph who just so happened to be peeking up at you over the edge of his phone. A smile graced your lips for the first time today as you saw him raise his brows, a silent ‘hello’. 

By stroke of luck you found yourself seated in the row with Josh and Ty, both of them offering you the window seat instead of the aisle. A wave of relief washes over you as you chat with Ty, everything about him making you feel at home. You laugh at almost everything he says, and you can see why Josh loves him so much. As you lean forward to grab your phone from your bag you notice Murph sitting across the aisle, his leg crossed over his knee as he scrolls through his phone, looking up just in time to catch you staring. He sends you a playful wink as you sit back and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. 

“So,” Ty says, raising a brow. You know what he wants to talk about, the two of you have been dancing around the subject for the last hour. 

“So…” you continue, pretending to be unaffected. 

He turns to look over his shoulder just slightly, noticing Jake and Isla seated directly behind you. “So, lovely weather we got this morning…”

“Mmhmm…” you hum, tossing your hair over your shoulder. You grab your phone and pull up Ty’s contact, quickly typing into the box. 

You

10:06AM: I feel like this is safer

Ty

10:06AM: It is, I know she is totally listening to every word we are saying

You

10:07AM: I had no idea

Ty

10:07AM: None of us did

10:08AM: Actually, I bet the bitches did

You

10:08AM: The bitches?! I thought we liked them?

Ty

10:09AM: We do, away from her. With her… Nightmare.

10:10AM: They totally planned this. Did you see them snickering when you walked up?

You

10:10AM: Yeah, sort of, I was a little caught off guard and didn’t know who to look at first lol 

You can hear a shrill laugh from behind you, causing your skin to crawl as Ty shoots you an annoyed look. At this point she has thrown every compliment in the book at Jake, and you’ve heard nothing but one word mumbles come from him. 

Ty

10:11AM: Gag me, she is so fake

You

10:12AM: She really doesn’t strike me as Jake’s type.

Ty

10:12AM: She’s not

You

10:13AM: How do you know?

Ty

10:14AM: Honey, I’m dating his twin

You

10:14AM: Fair point lol

“Hey, I have to pee, can I get out?” you ask, finally speaking again. 

“Sure, sure,” Josh says, letting you slide out of the seat and into the aisle, making your way to the lavatory at the back of the plane. 

As you lock yourself into the tiny box you let out a sigh, quickly relieving yourself and washing your hands as you look at your appearance in the tiny bathroom mirror. You fix your hair a bit and straighten your shirt before unlocking the door to make your way back to your seat. However, when you open it, you’re face to face with Jake. 

You meet his eyes, quickly snapping them away. 

“Y/N, please, just two seconds,” he pleads, pulling his hands from his pockets. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you begrudgingly look at him, watching his face soften as you meet his eyes. 

“I didn’t know. You have to believe me,” he begs, stepping a little closer. 

You shake your head, not believing it for a second, “I don’t know, Jake.”

“Please, I swear,” he adds, his hand coming up to graze your arm. You pull away quickly in rejection, watching his hand fall back to his side. 

“Can we talk later? Please, just give me ten minutes,” he asks. 

You shake your head, “I think you’re going to be occupied later, Jake.”

You push past him and make your way back to your seat, refusing to cave to the voice in your head that is telling you to look over your shoulder. You hate this. You hate that you want to believe him, and you hate that after everything he told you last night, she showed up this morning. 

You slide back into your seat with a huff,  hearing Isla chatting with Mia next to her and rolling your eyes. 

“You good, babe?” Ty asks, turning to look at you. 

You give him a fake smile, “Oh, never better!”

You pull your book from your bag and open it with a sigh. A few minutes later you hear Jake returning to his seat and the grating sound of Isla’s voice as she speaks.

“What took you so long?”

—

JAKE POV

Your lips are pressed tightly together as you settle back into your seat, Isla’s words chipping away at you. 

“What took me so long?” you repeat, clearly annoyed, “There was someone else in there Isla, I had to wait.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the first class bathroom?” she asks, cutting her eyes at you. 

You just shake your head at her knowing you aren’t even going to answer. Sure, you could have gone to the first class bathroom, but you saw your chance and you knew you had to take it. You didn’t know if or when you’d get Y/N alone for two seconds without Isla around. 

Those two seconds, however, proved to be useless. She refused to hear you out and after Isla’s little display in the hotel lobby earlier, you didn’t blame her. It was the perfect storm, really. 

You’d talked last night. You told her everything. The truth. You felt content sliding into your bed last night, hopeful for what the next coming days would bring with Y/N. It was as you grabbed for your phone to check the playlist that you heard the knock on your door. You hoped it was her, desperate to be with you as much as you wanted to be with her, but when you opened the door it was the last person you expected to see. 

It took all of two seconds for your heart to ice over again, just the sight of Isla, causing your body to fill with anxiety and dread. Why was she here? How did she get here?

Her voice was overly sweet as she pushed her way into your room, greeting you with that stupid nickname she tried to force on you. Zero explanation was  offered as you let the door swing closed behind her. She made quick work occupying your space and throwing herself down onto your bed. Your eyes flashed over to your phone on the nightstand, hoping she would pay no mind to it as it sat open on your messages. 

“What–what are you doing here Isla?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, sitting up on her elbows.

“What do I mea– Isla! We are on a break!” you answer, raising your voice just a touch. “You are not supposed to be here!”

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, but did you really think I was going to miss our anniversary?”

“Anniversary of what? We are done Isla, I told you I am done.”

“You always say that,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, because it’s true! What aren’t you getting?” you growl, “Just how long are you planning on being here? I’m working Isla, this isn’t fucking playtime,” you snap. “We are leaving first thing tomorrow to catch a flight to Manchester”

“I don’t see what the big deal is Jakey, I’m just staying in your room. Mia and Lyla helped me figure out all the flights and everything. I have a ticket for tomorrow. I thought you would be happy to see me.”

You rub your hand over your face, doing your very best not to explode, “Isla, no. No. This is not okay. You know this is not okay.”

“You’re overreacting, everything is fine. I’m only gonna be here for like a week. Think about all the trouble we can get into for a week.” she grins, trying her best to tempt you. 

“No. No,  I’m not thinking anything like that. I’m thinking that I was going to bed and you just woke me up. I’m thinking that you shouldn’t be here, and you know it.” you seethe. 

And she did know it. She knew it as you slid back into the bed without another word. She knew it when she woke the next morning to your alarm blaring, and she knew it when you refused to look at her as you packed your suitcase and headed downstairs. Her disgusting display of possessive jealousy in the lobby left you dumbfounded. All you could do was stare at Y/N, praying her mind wasn’t jumping to the worst, though you could tell by the look on her face that it already had. You knew that every single thing you told her last night, every painful truth, was now all a lie in her mind.

So now, as you sit here in the seat behind her on this airplane, with your borderline psychotic ex-girlfriend nit picking your every move, you wonder how you will fix this. Or if there even is a way to fix it, now. 

The flight landed shortly after your mental spiral, and thankfully you were being bussed straight to the venue for a soundcheck. The girls and staff were ushered to the hotel, dropping your belongings off before heading to the venue. You were happy to have a few minutes alone without Isla. You wished you could just send her home. Maybe you would. But could you?

The four of you were in the van on the way to the venue, going over the setlist and a few notes from the night prior, laughing and joking as the city passed through the van windows. That’s when it hit you. 

You snapped your head to Sam and Daniel, cutting your eyes at them in realization. “You know, your fucking girlfriends did this.”

“Huh?” Danny answers, focusing on you. “Mia?”

“Yeah, fucking Mia and Lyla. They conspired to fly Isla out here for an entire fucking week. Got her tickets and shit. Unbelievable.”

“You didn’t know?” Sam asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“Obviously not, Samuel.” you snap. “I don’t fucking want her here. I don’t want her at all! She just does not seem to get that. She is ruining everything.”

The van goes silent, everyone ducking their heads in an effort not to look at you, an awkwardness filling the air in the van as you pull up at the back entrance of the venue. As the four of you make your way inside, you know it is only a matter of time before you see Y/N, rushing through the halls with bags of food and drinks. You want to tell her everything, if you could just explain you think she would understand. But you know how it looks from the outside and you probably wouldn’t want to hear you out either. 

You would talk to her tonight. You had to. 

—

HER POV

Paul

9:06AM: Rider for the day is in your email! Should be an easy store trip! Thanks

You shove your phone back in your pocket as you step out of the security meeting, wondering why Paul couldn’t have just said that face to face five minutes ago. Alas, you know he has three hundred things on his mind, so him thinking of you at all is a feat. You open your email and find today’s rider, reading off the same old same old items as your eyes scan down the page. Flashbacks of yesterday morning keep littering your brain, but you decide to force them back, burying yourself in your work like you always do. 

Isla’s face when she realized who you were… Jake’s expression as he watched the interaction… the feeling of tension so thick you could cut it with a knife as everyone else stood so still you’d think you were statues in a museum. It all felt horrible. It all felt so embarrassing. But, none of it is your fault. You didn’t see this coming.

Though you’d tried to downplay all of the emotion boiling up inside of you for the past couple of days, you set it aside, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before it all comes boiling up, waiting to spit and spatter its way out of you in what would most likely be a very ugly scene. 

You didn’t need to order an Uber for the ride home from the store; the proximity was actually fairly close to the venue, and you were able to sneak around the corner and to the market without the need for security. As you push your cart-wagon back down the sidewalk and begin separating the food items into the outside storage container, your mind drifts to the one thing that feels like reprieve right now– Murph. You think about him catching you looking at him on the plane this morning, and how warm your entire body felt as you watched him wink at you. And the fact that tomorrow you’ll be spending the entire evening with him, watching one of your most favorite bands perform by his side. 

Does it feel wrong to think of things this way? Using Murph as an excuse to not think of Jake and Isla? Sure, maybe a little. But you never devoted yourself to Jake. And he never set things in stone with you. And for him to explain things to your face so honestly for it all to blow up in your face… ugh. And you really believed him, too. Now the taste in your mouth is dirty and sour, and everything feels so disgustingly wrong. Vengeful. Deceitful as you “use” one man to take your mind off another. But also, who the hell cares? You have nothing to lose, and apparently fucking everything to gain. So hanging out with someone who values your company and actually wants to start things off honestly… why not? Murph makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. He makes you feel safe. And being around him feels like a breath of fresh morning air instead of one that hardly fills your lungs.

The rest of the day flies by as you are dying to get a free second to call Ruth, knowing that her matter-of-fact outlook on life will help you to feel less shitty about your decisions. You’d managed to fly under the radar most of the day, only saying necessary words to your co-workers, and having very little run-ins with any of the guys. Thankfully Paul had sent you on a few more errands throughout the afternoon, of which you accepted gracefully if they let your mind think about anything else other than the auburn-haired tramp holding Jake’s hand.

The craft table is set and ready for grazing, and the fridge and coolers are stocked to the brim with everything the band and crew could need, and you finally get a second to breathe as you listen to the crowd outside cheer for the second opener. Just as you’re stuffing a container of Oreos into a mesh sack, you feel the presence of someone joining you in the small room. 

“Hey there mama.”

You perk up, the familiar voice startling you. “Oh, hey Josh. What’s up?” you ask blankly, upset that the time had come that you could no longer avoid any of them. 

“Not much, they’re all getting in their zones in there, not much I can do besides sip on this…” he holds up his paper cup of steaming hot tea, giving you a cordial smile as you pretend to keep your hands busy. “You uh, you okay?” he asks, and you wish he would just… go away.

You huff an exhale, throwing one hand on your hip and the other up to scratch the back of your head. “Uh, no. Not really,” you laugh awkwardly. “But, here we are…”

“Listen Y/N,” he goes on, “I’m really really sorr–”

“Josh, don’t. Please just, don’t. I’m already mortified beyond belief, the last thing I need right now is pity, ok?” Your tone is clipped, but it has a right to be.

He nods as he swallows, tapping his pointer finger against his cup. “I get it. Just uh, just want you to know I’m on your team on this one, I really, we really had no idea they were scheming this up,” he explains, his sincerity heavy. “You know how we all feel about Isla.”

You nod in return, biting your jaw sideways as you feel so displaced in the conversation right now. “Honestly Josh, I feel very much like this is none of my business, anymore, so… if you don’t mind…” you quickly check your watch as you blindly make up some excuse to get him out the door. 

“It is your business, Y/N. He’s just… Please, just don’t throw him away,” Josh begs, and you hear a commotion on your radio.

“That’s not my decision to make, Josh,” you say as you both hear the radio chime with a ten minute warning. Josh hisses through his teeth as he takes one more long sip of his tea, and tosses the cup into the trash.

“See you out there, huh?” he says as he opens the heavy door to the hallway. 

“I’ll have you a fresh tea in a few,” you assure him, casting him an awkward smile. 

As the sound of the crowd roars outside, you know that it is time to get the guys their respective stage drinks prepared, and to go and meet them at the stairs. You get everything ready, leaving Jake’s drink the last piece to your puzzle. You’d completely ignored getting him a drink at all at the last show, one last slap in the face as you made your stance. But tonight, you decide to resume your duties, knowing that if you’re going to do anything right at all, it's going to be your job. 

You slide over to the corner of the green room, squatting down in the floor to fish for the bag you know he’s hidden. Your hands grip on the black canvas material as you drag it out, a strange feeling of weird nostalgia bubbling up in your stomach. You pull up the heavy bag to rest on the arm of the couch before unzipping it slowly, seeing all his normal items inside. All the items that just a few short days ago, you cherished seeing. The little parts of him that felt so real.

Your hand floats past his change of clothes, his sunglasses, his book, straight to the bottom to grasp onto the neck of the bottle of wine you knew you would find. Just as you bring it out of the bag, the green room door flies open, revealing the overwhelmingly loud aura of Isla.

Her eyes cut directly your way, catching you in the last act you’d want anyone to see today. The eye contact is quick as you hear her scoff at seeing you.

“Uh excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” she asks, her tone biting. She makes quick haste of walking directly over to you, ripping the bag from your hands as the bottom of the wine bottle catches on the zipper, knocking it free from your hand with force. The bottle hits the tile floor, breaking the glass and shattering it into a hundred pieces as the wine splashes all over your feet and the couch. 

You gasp hard, catching the bag in mid-air before it hits the floor and soaks everything inside it. “Oh my god, look what the fuck you did!” Isla shouts, her hands covering her mouth. “Why are you rustling around in my boyfriend’s bag?! That’s not yours!” she shouts. 

Oh here we fucking go.

You roll your eyes, keeping surprisingly calm as you place his bag back down on the couch. “Just doing my job, Isla. I get them their stage drinks before every show. He gave me permission to get his wine from his bag. Now look what you’ve done,” you spit, moving over to get a broom and paper towels. The rage is beginning to boil up in your belly as you drag the trash can over to clean up the mess, Isla making no moves whatsoever to try and help. 

Isla crosses her arms as she zips Jake’s bag back up, mumbling under her breath. The only words you catch are “inappropriate’ and ‘ridiculous’. You roll your eyes again as you finish cleaning up the tiny shards of glass, feeling upset that you wasted an entire bottle of what looked to be an expensive vintage. 

As you dry up the remaining liquid from the floor, you realize that Isla hasn’t left, she’s just standing there, watching you clean. ‘Why isn’t she fucking leaving?’ you ask yourself, feeling overwhelmingly out of place. You shake the feeling, deciding to go ahead and finish making the drinks, knowing the time for them to go on stage is drawing closer and closer. You decide to make Jake the same thing you make Danny, realizing that it will have to do. Isla watches you wordlessly as you pop open the drink mixers, perfectly pouring them into his metal chalice cup. 

“Can I help you with something?” you burst, feeling so awkward that you could actually scream. 

She purses her lips as she picks up a cookie from the table, taking a tiny bite to keep her mouth from saying what she really wants to say. You hear the overture music begin to play in the distance, and you know you have to hurry. You stick your finger into Jake’s icy drink, swirling it around a few times before looking at Isla one last time, popping your finger into your mouth and sucking off the tequila with a smile. You pick up all four drinks and head for the door, letting it slam hard behind you. 

You can feel Isla’s presence on your heels as you hurriedly pace down the dark hallway, passing rushing crew members and staff as you hold the drinks steadily in your hands, careful not to spill a drop. You make it just in time as you hand off the Topo Chico, the tea, and the tequila cocktail, saving Jake’s chalice for dead last. Just as his tech helps him place his strap over his head, the room suddenly erupts with loud cheers, the lights beginning to flash wildly. Jake takes the drink from you, glancing into it and quickly realizing it isn’t his wine of the day. He gulps as he makes eye contact with you, looking as though he wants to say a million things, but as his lips part to speak, nothing comes out. Instead, you decide to lean into him, yelling in his ear above the loud noise. 

“Hope this drink doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth. I didn’t have a fucking choice,” you bark, stepping back to glare at him. Again, he’s speechless, but the look on his face is questioning. As you move your eyes to look at the woman standing beside you, she pushes you to the side, forcing you to step sideways as she grabs Jake’s face in both of her hands, his hands both too full to push her away. She catches him off guard, planting a quick and forceful kiss to his lips right there in front of you. You scoff as he backs away, using his body weight to separate himself.

He doesn’t even say anything as he finishes ascending the stairs, placing his drink down as he joins his brothers in their places behind the curtain. What a fucking bitch, you think as you watch her try and block your view of them, unsuccessfully. You watch as he cuts his eyes at her, shaking his head in the most unapproving way. His eyes are slit and his jaw is clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the neck of his guitar. Fuck, he is mad.

With only a few seconds to spare, you watch as Jake rushes back over to his amp, grabbing up his drink and tilting it back, chugging what had to be half of it before cutting his eyes at her again, rushing back over to his place next to Danny. 

Isla crosses her arms as she backs up to stand beside you, a devilish smirk crossing her lips as she never lets her eyes leave him. “What did you make him, anyway?” she asks.

You bite your lips in before you give her a one word answer, “Tequila.”

“Ahaaa,” Isla laughs as she tilts her head back. “I should thank you, then. That means I am definitely in for it tonight, if you know what I mean.” She smiles hard as the curtain drops to the stage floor, but your heart falls ten times harder. If all that Jake and his brothers said is true, then who the fuck does this bitch think she is?

You’re about to let it all fly before you look her way, realizing that she’s already making her way toward Mia and Lyla in the corner, snickering when the three of them finally join up. Their eyes drift quickly to each other and to you, and you feel like you’re in middle school again. Three grown women whispering into each other’s ears as if you’re being bullied on the playground at recess, making themselves look like absolute fools. How could Danny and Sam not realize…? 

Whatever. It’s none of your business anymore, right? You’ve got a job to do, and a really hot date to dream about. 

You dash back to the green room to replenish anything that needs it, and you find that you’re interrupting someone. 

“Oh fuck, Ty, you scared me,” you laugh, clutching your chest as you watch him chew furiously. “What are you doing?”

“Shit,” he laughs through a full mouth. “Sorry, I’m so motherfucking hungry right now… Please don’t tell anyone it was me tearing up this charcuterie board.”

You let out a full belly laugh, Ty’s presence instantly calming you.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks as he swallows. “Why does it smell like straight Chardonnay in here?” Ty doesn’t even let you answer as he grabs a whole box of crackers and pulls your hand to follow him to the couch, but not before locking the door. “There, now we can talk just us again. You look flushed, babe, what’s up?”

You grunt as you pull a few crackers from the box, stuffing them in your mouth. “Ugh. Isla caught me getting Jake’s wine from his bag, she got pissed I guess and she made me drop the bottle on the floor, it shattered,” you say through a full mouth. “So I made him a really fucking strong tequila drink, instead.”

Ty throws his head back and laughs. “Good! That bitch deserves to drink tequila tonight.”

You swallow, giving Ty a sincere look. “Does he, though? I mean, he did tell me the truth… week too fucking late, but…”

“Yeah I mean, I guess, but he could have banished her and sent her on her merry way back to Nash,” Ty says. 

“But he didn’t…” you say softly. 

“But he didn’t.”

“Is his heart too big?” you ask, truly wondering.

Ty shrugs, clearing crackers from his teeth. “I dunno, maybe. No matter what he does, he’s the asshole.” You nod, feeling very conflicted in the matter. “Ugh,” Ty complains, “I tried to fix this and it just got fucking worse..” he smacks himself on the face.

“Shh, Ty, it’s okay,” you say, pulling his head back up. “I–I don’t really care, anymore. Besides, I’m going to see the Keys with Murph tomorrow.”

He perks right up. “MURPH?! Oh my god, how is that going?”

“It’s good, it’s fine… nothing serious, but–”

“But you wanna sleep with him, right? He’s hot, I wouldn’t blame you. Oh my god, have you already?! Y/N–”

“Ty! Ty! Jesus, no, I haven’t, calm down…” you laugh, grabbing his shoulders as it hits you why you love Ty so much. He reminds you so much of Ruth that it hurts.

He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “Listen babe, I’m Team You, and I’m really excited for you… but…”

“That’s exactly what Josh said,” you laugh. 

He scoffs. “I just want a cool sister in law, that’s all okay?”

“Sister in law?! Are you insane Ty?” you crow, pushing his shoulder as you both fall into laughter.  

It calms down for a second while you both listen to the music bellowing through the walls. “So you really like Murph?” he asks, snarling his nose. 

You pause for a second, contemplating an answer that won’t embarrass you too much. “I do… if not for anything ya know, like that, just as someone I can hang out with. He’s nice to me, understands me. He bought me Black Keys tickets, Ty! Like how thoughtful is that? Finally some time just me and him, no chance of running into anyone or having to talk to Jake at all…”

All the happiness falls from Ty’s face. “Black Keys tickets? For like, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, why? He’s taking me on a date…”

“Babes, we’re all going to that show tomorrow,” he says, stretching his lips over his teeth.

Oh fuck.

“Like, everybody?” you ask, hopeful that he will say just him and Josh. 

“Yeah. Like, everybody.”

—

“If you want to dump that ice outside, I will throw these last few drinks into the cooler,” Paul says, motioning towards the table. 

“Yeah, sure,” you answer, knowing it would be minutes until the guys came bounding into the greenroom for their post show drink. You grab the bucket and walk through the bustling hallways, tossing the ice into the bathroom sink to melt. As you make your way back to the green room you find that it is now occupied with the four sweaty men. 

Your eyes immediately catch Jake’s who looks like he is on the tail end of a nasty little spat with Isla. Honestly, you would rather see that than them loving on each other. At least the palpable hostility in the room corroborates the things he told you last night. You wanted to believe him. You really did, but seeing Isla holding his hand this morning really had you second guessing everything. 

“That everything?” Paul asks, snapping your attention away. 

“Oh, um yes. I think so. Should be all set for tomorrow,” you answer with a nod. 

“Good work, Y/N. Enjoy your evening,” he says, patting your shoulder and exiting the room. 

You lean awkwardly on the table as you try to keep to yourself. Josh speaks up, grabbing everyone's attention. 

“What are we thinking? We want to go out tonight?” he asks, looking at each of you. No one jumps at the idea, still very unsure of the dynamic of the group now that Isla had joined. 

“No, Danny and I are gonna go back to the room,” she grins, turning to look at Isla. You immediately realize that the two of them have again conspired to run the show tonight. 

“I could use a drink,” Jake says. 

“Noooo, baby, I’m tired, let’s go back to the room,” Isla interjects, pulling on his arm. Its very obvious to you that she is going to do everything in her power to get him alone and all to herself. 

“I’m in as long as they have Tequila,” Jake adds, clearly ignoring her pleads. 

“Jake no, lets just stay in. I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she whines. 

“Yeah, because I didn’t invite you here, Isla! Do you need me to lay out the definition of a break again?” he says, slinging her arm off of his with a mumbled curse. 

Isla storms out of the room, brushing past you in a huff. You raise your eyebrows as you look at Ty, who is doing his best to stifle down a laugh. 

With everyone's eyes on Jake he shakes his head and rushes out the door after her. Josh is not too far behind him, ready to play referee. 

“Well, that’s my cue to grab the van!” Sam shouts, trying to break the awkward tension. You bite your lips together, trying not to laugh at how awkward everything is. Sam and Lyla quickly exit the green room with Mia and Danny at their side. Just you and Ty remain in the room, both of you busting out in laughter as the door slams shut. 

“Holy shit,” he laughs, gasping for air. “That was good.”

“This is all so awkward, Ty. I can’t do this,” you groan. 

“No, it’s just getting good,” he says, standing up to walk over to you. “You got your stuff? You ready to go?”

You look around the room, spotting Jake’s backpack still laying on the floor and you wonder if you should grab it. Seconds later, Isla is rushing through the door, snatching her purse from the couch and grabbing Jake’s bag from the floor. 

She tosses the black backpack over her shoulder, cutting her eyes at you and Ty, “Oh, and just by the way, I would replace that bottle of wine if I were you. He’s going to be mad when he finds out you broke it.”

You recoil at her audacity, turning to look at Ty who is just as shocked as you are. She storms out the door before you can respond and you shake your head, fully understanding why Jake is desperate to be done with her in the first place. 

—

The ride back to the hotel was pin drop silent. No one daring to utter a single syllable. Jake refused to sit by Isla, instead opting to sit with Ty and Josh, leaving you with Daniel and Mia. You all file out of the van in a hurry, making your way to the elevators and to your respective rooms without another word. You watched as Jake stepped out of the elevator with Isla, turning over his shoulder to meet your eyes for a matter of a second before the doors closed again. 

Your blood was boiling after your encounter with Isla, the rage rippling through your body like a freight train. You knew there was only one way to get it out, so as you stepped into your room you stripped out of your work clothes and threw on some workout clothes, quickly making your way back downstairs to the hotel gym. 

A run would help. A run always helps.

As you step inside you find it empty, but that isn’t a huge shock since it is nearly midnight. You turn the lights on and make your way to the treadmill, putting in your airpods and turning on a metal playlist. Your legs start to move, starting a slow jog. You work your way up to a sprint, letting the music in your ears push you to run faster. 

You run your aggression out, every step causing you to feel lighter and lighter. Just as you hit the down arrow to slow down the track you hear a ding in your ear as Siri alerts you of a new text from Ruth. 

Ruth

12:14AM: Hello? Updates? I can’t sleep

You slow to a walk, deciding there is really no better time to update her on the situation. You decide to send her voice memos instead of calling her, needing to get your rambling out uninterrupted. 

Your heart is pounding with adrenaline as you recount every detail of the last twenty four hours in what has to be ten voice memos. You can feel the sweat dripping down the side of your neck as your body tries to cool itself down.

You hit the record button again, giving one last quip before leaving her to listen, “And one more thing. If that nasty little stuck up bitch says one more thing to me about her boyfriend I think I might kill them both. She is the reason the wine bottle shattered in the first place. I was just doing my damn job. Of course he marched right upstairs with her tonight, didn’t even try to say anything to me the entire night. So much for ‘give me ten minutes’ or whatever the hell he said. Okay, end rant,” you say, hitting the button and watching it deliver. 

You huff as you slow the treadmill to a stop, stepping off and grabbing a towel to wipe your face. As you turn around you pull your Airpods out, and see Jake, leaning against the door with a solemn look on his face. 

“Holy fuck, Jake!” you say, grabbing at your chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He holds his hands up, “Sorry, I just got in here. Had the same idea as you, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you seethe, snapping your Airpods into the case. You grab for your bag, trying to make it out of the gym as quickly as possible but of course, he stops you. 

“Y/N, please,” he begs, lifting a hand towards you. 

“Shouldn’t you be upstairs with your girlfriend?” you bark. 

He shakes his head gently, “No, I told her I needed a minute and I wanted to be alone. And stop with the girlfriend thing, I told you she isn’t.”

You recoil back, “Really? Could have fooled me.”

“I heard what you said to Ruth.”

“You what!?” you shout, “You were listening to me?!”

“I mean, the last part, yeah. I didn’t hear everything, but you are right. You should be mad at me. I deserve it,” he says, nodding his head.

Your blood is boiling beneath your skin, “That was private, Jake. You should have stepped out. I thought I was alone.”

“I know, I just– I’m sorry. I just needed to hear you say it. Now I have,” he pauses. “I’d really like it if you’d let me explain everything. I can explain all of it, I swear. 

“It’s self explanatory, Jake. You lied to me. You said all that shit only for her to turn up this morning.”

“But I didn’t lie. Everything was true, Y/N. It was Mia an-and Lyla, they did this. Planned all of it. I had no idea. She just showed up at my door last night after we talked. I had no clue, you have to believe me.”

You do believe him. You don’t want to, but you do. You can see it written all over his face. 

“I– I can’t do this Jake. It’s late, I’m exhausted. This is just…I can’t do the lies and the games. I feel like shit for causing these issues between you two. I don’t want to be a homewrecker, that’s never what I wanted. That’s not who I am.”

“You didn’t homewreck anything, Y/N! It was already wrecked before I ever even met you! You were rebuilding me! I was finally happy for the first time in–fuck. I wish I could show you, even barely explain what you have done for me, but I can’t because everything is just so fucked up now. Please, just know, I don’t want her. Haven’t for a long time,” he shouts. 

“So what then, Jake? What do you want?”

“You know the answer to that. You have to know. I know you know,” he says, his voice softening. The look in his eyes is pleading with you even harder than his words are, and you can feel the sincerity coming off of him in waves. 

Your heart aches at his words. You can feel that he is being genuine but there is still that shred of doubt clouding your mind. Part of you wants to stay, hear him out, let him explain everything. But the other part of you knows there is no use when at the end of the night he will be in bed with her. 

“I’m sorry, Jake, I can’t…”

You brush past him and push through the door, hearing the heavy wood slam behind you. 

—

JAKE POV

Fuck this. Fuck this fuck this fuck this. 

What in the hell are you gonna do now?

There’s no right answer. No matter what decision you make, it’s going to be the wrong one. And it’s going to hurt someone else, whether you want it to or not. 

You pull your hair back and throw it into a bun and grab a towel from the shelf in the corner, cupping it around your neck. You pull your tangled earphones from your pocket, getting aggravated as you try to pull them apart. You know that if Y/N was still around, she’d have them untangled and wrapped neatly for you, waiting in your bag for the next time you want to use them. 

Fuck, you miss her. Her yelling in your face just now was the most you’ve spoken in days, and even though she was mad and disappointed and calling you every name in the book, somewhere deep, deep down, it felt good to be in her presence again. God, you need to get your shit together. 

You step onto the treadmill as you feel the belt pick up speed beneath you, your feet keeping up with the traction of the increasing momentum. Your finger keeps hitting the button, keeps letting it climb and climb until it’s almost maxed out. You need to sprint so fast that your legs give out… you need to hear your heart beating in your ears for another reason other than getting too exhausted on stage. Physical exertion has always been one of your secret kryptonites, pushing your body to the point of no return to get your anger out. And most of the time, it truly worked. 

Anything to keep you from going back to the room and screaming at Isla.

Once you feel like your body simply couldn’t handle another step, you slow the treadmill, cooling down with a brisk walk as you run the towel over your face. Have you seriously fucked everything up? Is anything ever going to get better? Or are you going to be stuck with Isla for the rest of your life?

After a few centering breaths and some self-slaps in the face, you get yourself together and make your way back up to your hotel room, wanting nothing more than to chug a bottle of water, and follow it up with another strong tequila. A hard buzz to get you through the night, then claim exhaustion to avoid talking to Isla any more than necessary. 

As the elevator ascends and your body falls into that tranquil state of peace you get after a good workout, you realize that you’re going to have to share a bed with her. A queen sized bed. Fuck. Me.

Your limp legs carry you to your room and you inhale a sharp breath as you unlock the door, letting yourself into the room. 

“Heyyyy baby…” Isla wails from the bed, stark naked with a bottle of champagne in her hand. “What took you so long?”

You drop your bag to the floor as the image before you stops you in your tracks. “I was working out, Isla,” you answer flatly.

“C’mon, come get in bed…” she slurs, and you can tell she’s already been working on the champagne. “Let’s celebrate our anniversary like we used to.”

You couldn’t feel more disconnected from her, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible, right now. You even contemplate pulling out the couch bed.

“Mmm, no. I’m getting in the shower, then I’m going to bed. I’m really tired,” you say, grabbing clothes from your bag, and an airplane bottle from the mini bar.

You hear her groan from behind you as her lips pop off the bottle of champagne. “Want me to join you?” she asks, her voice rising a few octaves. 

“NO! No, I won’t be long, just… stay there.” You pull the bathroom door closed and quietly lock the latch, knowing that she is the type to sneak in even after you’d told her not to. Just months ago, you’d have given anything for her to join you in the shower. Hell, join you on tour. But now, the thought of her impeding in your space like this nearly makes you sick.

“Ugh, okay. I’ll be here waiting,” you hear her call through the door.

You tip the tequila back in one quick swallow and shower quickly, rinsing off the sweat of the day and the stench of your guilt, feeling more shitty than you’ve felt in a really, really long time. You want to talk to Josh. You need to hear his level-headed opinion on this matter, and honestly, you need Ty’s, too. Tomorrow, you’ll talk to them. Hopefully. 

You step out of the shower and dry off, thanking yourself for remembering to grab a t-shirt and shorts to avoid having to walk in front of Isla half-clothed.

You flick the bathroom light off and find Isla in the same position she was in, watching some old 80’s crime rerun on TV. You plug your phone in and slide into the bed beside her, being sure to turn your back to her as you fluff the pillow beneath your head. Surprisingly, you aren’t really that tired, but you’ll be damned if you are going to stay awake a minute longer than you need to to endure this night.

You pretend to start to fall asleep, letting your body succumb to the comfort of the bed and puffy sheets. Your limbs relax as the exhaustion actually does set in, letting you know that maybe you aren’t as far from sleep as you think you are. Your eyes begin to play the beginning images of a dream, your body jerking a little as it relaxes. Suddenly, just as you’re about to drift off peacefully, you feel a hand run across your back, up underneath your shirt. 

Ugh, Isla, please stop…

Her hand drifts up to your shoulder, squeezing the muscle and gritting the pad of her thumb up underneath your shoulder blade, massaging your tight back muscles. You’re letting yourself enjoy the sensation, picturing Y/N’s hands all over you just like they used to be, soft but strong in all the right places. It feels good, it feels really good. You have only had the hands of your hired massage therapists on your back for the past few days, so to feel the light touch of someone else’s hand is a welcome change. 

“Shit baby, you’re tense…” Isla mumbles, making you wake up from your half-asleep state, sending all your dreams of Y/N straight down the drain. 

“Isla, please…” you warn with a stern voice.

“Please what, baby? I miss you…” she sings, bringing her body to press up against your back. “Came all the way here to see you, visit you on our anniversary…”

Though your eyes are closed, you roll them, taking in a deep and cleansing breath as you prepare yourself to argue, yet again.

“Isla, today is just another day on my calendar. Can you please drop the anniversary shit? Do you not understand that I can’t do this with you anymore? I don’t want this–”

“So what, you gonna kick me out?” she slurs, and you can hear the drunkenness in her voice now. “Make me get another room? Or you gonna come take care of me the way I know you want to…”

For a split second, you think about it. You really think about it. Through the exhaustion in your bones and the tiredness of your muscles, your male brain contemplates it for a split second. Your dick throbs at the thought of it, no emotion involved, just straight meaningless sex. You could really fucking use it. 

“I know you miss me Jake, I can feel it. See it when you look at me. I know you think about fucking me just as often as I think about it with you… I’m not naive.”

Giving in to her and giving her what she wants is an option that will get her to shut up, but it will also dig the hole you’re already in deeper than you can dig yourself out of, and that’s not a headache that you need right now. 

No matter how good she looks under the covers…

No matter how good her hands felt on your skin, or how badly you could really use a good romp, right now.

Ugh, should you just get it over with? It would probably only take a second, at this point…

“No, please, just go the fuck to sleep,” you stay strong.

You pull your body away from her a bit, scooting further away and out of her reach. You hear her scoff as she rolls to her back, pulling the covers up over her chest. “Ya know, you aren’t the same person anymore, Jake. Remember when I told you you’d fucking changed? Well it’s true. It’s never been more true,” she barks. “You used to have the biggest heart, used to want me more than anything, love me more than anything. Now you’re just a grouchy son of a bitch. I can’t believe anyone can even stand to be around you anymore.”

Her words don’t even hurt you, anymore. They used to cut you like a knife. And though they make you feel like shit, you know they aren’t true. You might be a grouchy son of a bitch, but you know that your brothers and your friends still love you. She’s using anything she can to get under your skin, right now. 

She’s the one who fucking changed. 

“Ok Isla, thanks. Now let me go to sleep,” you beg, letting her words roll right off of your thickened skin. 

Things fall quiet again but for just a second as Isla turns the volume up on the TV just a few notches, just enough to piss you off. 

“Can you turn that back down, please?” you bellow, to which she responds with silence. The TV stays at an unreasonable volume as you try to tune it out, but you fall short. Your gut is boiling up with rage at her inconsideration. 

“Isla! Hello? I’m trying to sleep! Do I need to go stay in Josh’s room or–”

“Damn Jake, chill, it isn’t even that loud…” she complains as she grabs the remote, switching the TV off completely. For some reason, that just pisses you off even more.

“Isla, listen to me. Why did you come here?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose as you sit up in bed. 

“...Because, we’ve always spent this week together, it’s special, I thought you’d be excited to see me after we’ve been on this break…” she squeaks.

“Do you not remember everything I said before I left? Seriously? That I didn’t want any contact from you, I needed to sort shit out, I needed you to find somewhere else to go… why is none of it clicking with you? I’m so confused,” you spurt, the words tripping over themselves. 

“I don’t understand why you aren’t respecting my wishes. I don’t understand why you showed up here unannounced,” you go on. “I don’t understand how I could put things more clearly, that I don’t want this anymore. I’m tired of having this same fucking conversation over and over and it never means anything to you.” You speak like a teacher to his young students, clearly and slowly, now, so that it might help her to understand. But it won’t. She never gets it. 

The room is dark and bleak, only the pale gleam of the street lights poking through the windows and the heat blowing through the vent in the corner fill the empty space between you. “All I want is space, and you can’t even give me that. No matter how far away I run.” The words hurt to choke out as you begin to feel a little sorry for yourself. This shit with her is beginning to wear you down, tearing away at your self-worth even though you act like it isn’t. 

“I thought… I thought you might have just wanted a couple of weeks to think about things, time to miss me, ya know?” she says, obviously completely forgetting about the countless arguments you’d had on the phone since tour began. She’s obviously gaslighting you yet again.

“Mia and Lyla said you seemed distracted lately, just unhappy and not yourself,” she says. 

“See, that’s not true, Isla. If anything, I’ve been happier. More free to do whatever I please,” and you know that is a stone cold fact.

“It just… ugh it feels so fucking wrong and stupid to be home, in your home, cleaning and taking care of things and making sure the bills are paid and that things are working while you’re gone… until I found somewhere else to go, Jake. I don’t have anywhere to go!” she yells, sitting up to face you. “I’ve relied on you for years, and you expect me to just pick up and find somewhere in a week? Be for fucking real. You didn’t even give me time to look for somewhere before you decided to kick me out!”

“That’s not fucking true, Isla! I discussed this with you countless fucking times before I left! But it’s like it went in one ear, and straight out the other! I know what you’re doing, you’re using me. I understand. I get it, I’m doing well for myself and you don’t want to lose that. That’s all this is. That’s all you’ve come to care about! You don’t care about me anymore! Just your fucking status,” your chest is heaving, your heart beating from it as you let it all out again, the same goddamed thing you always say, hoping, praying, that one day it will catch on in her mind. 

“I just wanted to be close to you again,” she pouts, completely ignoring the actual meat of the details of what you’re actually concerned with, dancing around the actual issues yet again. “Plus they said you’d gotten really close with that other girl and I–”

“Oh! Ohhhh, so that’s what this is about? What else did they say, huh?”

Isla pulls the sheets up over her lap as she reclines back onto the bed. “Ugh, nothing,” she tries to blow it off, sending a whole new wave of rage straight through you.  

“No, tell me. I want to know what everyone is saying about MY life behind my back when I told you I wanted privacy.” Your fist pounds against your chest. “Please, enlighten me,” you spit, the venom in your voice like gasoline catching fire. This could be it, this could be when you let your secret be known, and fuck, could it backfire. But you’re so blinded with fury that you don’t really even fucking care at this point. 

“They told me they think you’re sleeping with her, okay?” she yells, and you know things are about to go south, and quickly. 

“Hah,” you breathe. “So that’s the whole reason you came over here, to check up on me after I told you I don’t want to even be with you anymore. That’s fucking disgusting Isla,” you growl, your teeth gritting against each other. “We’re grown fucking adults.”

“So are you?” she challenges, her tone reminding you of a girlfriend you would have had in the ninth grade.

“What?”

“Are you sleeping with her?!” her voice cracks as she yells at you.

You’re so horribly offended you can hardly see straight, and all your extremities feel numb. “That’s none of your business.”

“Yes it fucking is, Jake! I live in your home!” she retorts, her hands flying in the air, now. The voice of your twin reverberates in the back of your mind, and though you’ll never admit it to him, he was absolutely and completely right. It’s all blowing up in your face.

You’re so fucking sick of this. You’re so fucking tired of it all. Your life doesn’t feel like it’s your own anymore, and when you do return home, it will most definitely feel like anything but. It’s time you stand your ground. 

“You know what Isla? Yes, yes we were. You happy?” you say, the words flowing a little more freely than you’d thought they would. But, they also make the hole in your heart a little bigger, seeing as how now, you might truly never get Y/N back. Your voice falls a little with your next admission. “She made me fucking happy.”

Isla inhales through her nose, the realization hitting her as she tries to catch her breath. She doesn’t say anything for a good few seconds as you let her process, and you hear a few tiny sobs leave her chest. “You gotta be fucking kidding me, Jacob…” she breathes, her words no more than a whisper. “So you…you cheated on me…”

What did she fucking expect, really?

You grit your jaw and stiffen your muscles as you hold back. “How is it cheating when I told you I didn’t want to be with you anymore, for months, begged you to leave, told you I was finished. Beyond finished. How is that cheating?” 

Convincing yourself of that has been the hardest part. There is no rule book for this shit. The whole situation is so sticky. So messy, tossed around and disorganized like you’ve never seen before. Nothing is right, nothing is wrong. Your morals are out the window, your decision-making skills are shot. You’re exhausted. You’re mad. You’re heartbroken. 

But she doesn’t answer your question. 

No more conversation is held between the two of you for the rest of the night, and you lie back on your pillow and listen to the sounds of her crying, her chest catching with violent sobs that she tries to hide from you. You can’t see her, but you know what her face must look like. Red and splotched with heavy wet tears, her cheeks flushed and pink as she realizes how real her suspicions were. You can’t stand to hear her crying, it was always your biggest weakness when it came to her, aside from her ability to lure you back into bed, of course.

You feel sorry for her. You can’t help it. The old her is buried down underneath there, somewhere, deep underneath this new persona, underneath the brand new person that you hardly even know anymore. She’s got to still be there, the girl you fell in love with. The honest and sincere and forgiving one. She’s still got to be somewhere in there, right?

Old habits die hard, especially for a person you once held so close to your heart. You hate being the reason she can hardly catch her breath right now. You hate being under the covers with her in the same bed in a foreign country, with nothing but a pillow separating the two of you as her cries fill the quiet of the room. You know it’s wrong, you know it’s the worst thing you could probably do, but your human emotion overtakes your decision making skills, and you place a hand on her arm, feeling her goosebump-covered skin under your touch. 

“‘M sorry, Isla. I really am,” you whisper, squeezing your hand on her just a little. “Can you please stop crying?” 

“My whole life is fucking falling apart, Jake. No, I don’t think I will stop crying,” she says, completely unaware that she is half the reason your lives together started to fall apart in the first place. You know she has got some serious over committal issues, that much is true. But it doesn’t stop the fact that the other half of that life-ruining moment is happening by your hand. The last thing you want is to be the reason someone is unhappy at all. 

Reality sets in as you release your hold on her cold arm, rolling to your back to stare at the popcorned ceiling. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything but the sound of her cries, reminding yourself over and over that honesty is the best policy, and you need to be the one who takes care of yourself.

Instead, you think about tomorrow. You’re going to try and make the day tolerable, no matter what it takes. You’re going to see the Black Keys with your brothers, and you’re going to enjoy yourself. 

Maybe Mia and Lyla will take care of their grieving best friend, keeping her far, far away from you. Maybe Josh will notice and intervene. Maybe.

7:00 is going to come early, and you roll to make sure your alarm is set to wake you, knowing that the bus ride to Glasgow is going to be anything but enjoyable.

Sleep will be anything but peaceful tonight.

—

HER POV

Your alarm wakes you far too early, your muscles sore and tired from the overexertion of running last night. You feel refreshed, knowing that you only have to get on the bus this morning then you will be on your way to the concert with Murph.  You still hadn’t decided on what to wear, but you knew it had to be good. Like really good. 

You roll over to grab your phone, seeing that Murph had already texted you this morning but also seeing that sometime in the early morning hours Jake added a song to the playlist. Your mind struggles with which notification to open first, your brain telling you to open Murph’s text, but your heart pulling for you to see what Jake added. 

Against your better judgment you swipe open the playlist notification, watching the songs populate in the playlist. As you scroll to the bottom you let out a sigh seeing his addition of ‘Don’t Wanna Fight’ by Alabama Shakes.

You tap the song, letting the opening notes play through your phone as you swipe out of it and open your texts.  

Murph

6:47AM: Good morning, hope you slept well.

6:48AM: When we get to Glasgow and get settled I’ll send you more concrete details for tonight, just have a few things to secure first. Can’t wait. 😎

You

7:05AM: I can’t wait either, looking forward to it!  🎹

You toss your phone on the nightstand and pull yourself out of bed, quickly dressing and packing up your suitcase to meet everyone in the lobby. To say you’re dreading it is an understatement, and you know that the three hour bus ride into Glasgow is going to be anything but pleasant. 

Thankfully you were able to secure a seat near the back of the bus, leaving Jake, Isla and the rest of the crew towards the front. You can see Murph’s head peeking over the top of the seat, his eyes finding you just as the bus pulls out into traffic. 

You

8:02AM: Cool kids sit at the back of the bus

Murph

8:03AM: Someone has to watch the children

You

8:04AM: I’ll just be back here thinking about tonight, then…

Murph

8:05AM: Hasn’t left my mind all morning  😉

Your heart flutters as you see him turn around and wink at you, your cheek growing red with lust. You spend much of the three hour ride deciding what to wear and how you wanted to do your hair for the show, simultaneously listening to the new Keys album. 

It’s not long before you’re rolling your suitcase over the threshold of your new hotel room, flopping down on the oversized bed with a sigh of relief. The bus ride was uneventful, just as you’d hoped it would be. 

You open the facetime app and tap Ruth’s name, knowing she needs a rundown and that you need her help deciding on an outfit. As the call connects you see her in her bathroom, towel on her head as she does her skincare routine. 

“Hello…” she answers, a mumble as her mouth contorts into an ‘O”.

“Ruth, code red I need you to help me pick an outfit for tonight,” you groan. 

“What’s tonight?” she asks, peeking an eye open to look at you. 

“The Black Keys show with Murph!” you shout, “Do you even listen to my voice memos anymore?!” 

“Yeah, all fifty of them,” she snickers, “What are the options?”

“Well, anything really, but it has to be hot because I’m trying to get laid.”

“Oh, yeah sure, not because Jake and Miss Congeniality are going to be there too, right?” she taunts. 

“No,” you lie. Of course you want to make him jealous. 

“What is Muscles McFly wearing?” she asks.

“Well, if I had to guess, jeans and a t-shirt. Kind of his signature look,” you laugh. 

“Okay, and you’re tryna smash, right?”

“I mean, yeah, hopefully,” you blush. 

“Okay, mini skirt. Boob top. Lip gloss. Never fails.”

“The fuck is a boob top?” you laugh. 

“Something that makes your tits look good, idiot,” she barks. 

“Oh yeah, because I packed so many of those for freezing cold Europe,” you add.

“Well, just do your best, but definitely the skirt. And don’t even say you don’t have one because I slipped mine in your suitcase for this exact purpose.”

“Ruthie…” you groan.

“Thank me tomorrow when you can’t walk,” she smiles, winking at you as she ends the call. 

You laugh and toss your phone onto the bed, opting for a quick nap before you have to get ready for the show. 

—

Murph

4:57PM: Meet you in the lobby in fifteen to pick you up?

You

4:59PM: Pick me up?

Murph

5:01PM: Might have got another truck

You

5:02PM: Of course you did. See you in a few. 😙

You take a look at yourself in the mirror, deciding that yeah, maybe Ruth was right about the boob shirt. You looked good, better than good. You knew Murph was going to love it, and Jake was going to hate every second of seeing you in it with someone that isn’t him. 

You slip on your boots and swipe on your lip gloss, grabbing your bag and making your way downstairs to the lobby. As you step outside the glass doors you see Murph leaning up against the hood of a truck, arms crossed across his chest. His muscles are defined beneath his t-shirt, his hat turned backwards as he eyes you up and down. 

“My, my, well don’t you look gorgeous,” he smiles. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, handsome,” you flirt. You see his smile grow as he pushes off the truck and moves to open the door for you. You can smell his cologne wafting off of him, dark and masculine. It’s intoxicating, and you stop yourself from breathing in too much. 

You jump up into the truck, letting him shut the door behind you. He makes his way around to the other side, getting in next to you and starting the engine. “You ready?”

“More than,” you grin, crossing your legs. 

“Me too,” he smiles, pulling out onto the busy street.

“How do you always manage to get your own vehicles in every place we go?” you laugh, turning to look at him. 

“Some say I’m a magic man,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows. 

“I like the sound of that,” you answer, rubbing your glossed lips together. 

“You smell amazing,” he says, almost as if he’d been dying to say it.

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Yeah, like, very very fucking good,” he admits. 

“Well, it’s pheromones. It reacts differently on everyone’s skin, and it smells different to everyone who smells it. It’s supposed to help you attract people,” you smile. 

“Not to be too forward, but it’s making me want to fucking devour you,” he confesses through a grin. 

Your chest swells with lust as his words sink in, and in that moment you briefly consider skipping the concert so he can do just that. His phone rings, breaking your conversation. He holds his phone to his ear as he answers. 

“Murph,” he says. 

“Yeah, we are about ten minutes out. Tell them I will meet them at the artist entrance and walk them in the side doors,” he continues. “Sounds good, see you then.”

Your brow furrows as you try to figure out what he could possibly be talking about. He ends the call and turns to look at you with a sneaky look on his face. 

“Who are we meeting?” you ask nervously. 

“Well, as much as I would like to have you to myself tonight, it’s a bit of a family trip. Gotta walk the crew in then I’m all yours once Paul and Dean show up.”

“Oh, yeah, okay. That’s no problem. I mean, it’s your job and all,” you grin, feeling his hand slide over to rest on your bare thigh. 

“You’re sweet, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders and blush, wondering if you’d ever received such a genuine compliment. 

The rest of the car ride is spent listening to music and soaking in the feeling of his warm protective hand on your leg. He pulls into the parking lot and pulls into a space, smiling as he puts the car in park. 

“Oh, that reminds me, there is actually one more thing I forgot to tell you,” he grins. 

“Oh, gosh, what?” you ask nervously. 

He reaches into the backseat and pulls out two lanyards with laminated badges reading Backstage - All Access.

“Ezra,” you gasp. “How–”

“Surprise, baby,” he smiles, placing the black lanyard over your head. He pulls your hair over the strap, letting it fall back over your shoulders. 

“How did you– Please tell me how you managed to get backstage passes?! Like, this is almost impossible, I’ve tried,” you huff into the air as you and Murph jump out of the truck and high-step it into the venue, following behind the hoards of people who are also running late for the show. 

He steps sideways, wrapping his strong arm around your neck as he pulls you into him for just a few seconds as if you’re his kid sister. 

“I think you need to stop asking questions and just trust that I’m the coolest guy you’ve ever met,” he boasts into your ear, kissing the side of your head quickly before releasing your neck and pushing you away again. 

You scoff at him through your teeth, your heart doing backflips at his gesture. “I don’t know about the coolest…maybe the most annoying, though…” you tease, shooting him a wink. 

You both skip every other step as you rush up the concrete stairs to the venue doors, already hearing the loud crashing music of the openers. You’d seen the Black Keys twice before, the last time being almost five years ago, now. But since then they've put out so much more music. Since then you’d fallen so much more in love with them. And since then, you’d met Murph. Who just kissed the side of your head, and is taking you backstage. 

“Am I really annoying?” he asks, letting you step ahead of him to go through the metal detectors at the entrance. His look had turned from playful to genuinely concerned, and you halfway wonder if he actually believed your statement. 

“No! Crazy, you’re not annoying in the least,” you smile, picking your purse back up from the container as he follows you through it. “You’re amazing.”

His eyes are already scanning around, and you can tell that he’s not used to being on this side of these kinds of events. “Fuck, good. Last thing I wanna do is get on your nerves.”

The two of you dash and wind through the crowds, and you know that he’s searching for the guys. He is semi off the clock tonight, but watching out for them has already become ingrained in his mind…more than a job, and more of a duty. 

“Danny said they’d be over this way, come on!” He shouts toward you, and you wonder how on earth, and why on earth they decided to be part of the general admission pit when they share fans with half of the Keys’ fandom. Seems a bit…unsafe, but, whatever.

Murph takes your hand in his as you push through the thickening crowd, sweetly intertwining his fingers with yours. He feels strong and steadfast, people basically stepping aside for him as you trail behind. You watch as he nods quick ‘thank you’s’ to each person that lets you through. Such a gentleman. 

He squeezes your hand every few seconds, silently asking if you’re okay back there. You return the squeeze, his oversized, calloused palms gently scratching against your soft hands. You wonder what they’d feel like touching you in other places…

“Murph! Hey man!” You hear Danny’s voice beckon, and you see his curls sitting on his head, taller than everyone else. Murph turns back to look at you, pulling you to the right a little as he leads you toward the group. 

Your stomach sinks when you see Jake, dressed in all black with his hair pulled back in a low bun, his blue-tinted sunglasses sitting on his nose. His tongue sucks into his cheek as he gives you an up-down, noticing first how your hand is tightly clasped in Murph’s. You can see his chest rise with a sarcastic laugh as he continues to wrap his arm around Isla’s waist, swigging beer from the plastic cup in his other hand. 

Fucking asshole. You know he’s just being touchy to get under your skin.

You stand awkwardly as you watch Danny turn to look at the two of you, giving you a questioning look as he contorts his face up as if to say, ‘Murph, what have you got here, attached to your side?’

Murph reads his expression, leaning in close to whisper in Danny’s ear. Danny responds with a satisfied and agreeing head nod, giving him a quick fist bump as he looks back at Jake, but only for a second. Danny bites the edge of his beer cup between his front two teeth as he turns back to the stage, giving you a quick wink before he wraps his arm around Mia.

Fuck, what did Murph say? 

“Y/N, they’re in like, a roped-off type area. We can stand beside them but I can’t get us over there,” Murph yells into your ear. 

You bite your lips in and give him a pitiful look, standing on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his ear. “…But we have backstage passes, and they don’t. Who are the real winners here?”

As you pull back, you’re met with his hundred-watt smile, sending butterflies all through your stomach. God, he is so…

You both know you’re lying to yourselves, the guys have met them before and probably even had conversations with them. But it was fun to pretend for just a little while that you were the famous ones, ready to flash your badges at whoever asks to see them. 

“You’re so right,” he rolls his eyes, motioning to the guys behind them like they were beneath you. “You wanna watch the show from here, or go watch from the side-stage? My buddy is back there working tonight, said we could come say hi…”

“Oh, so it’s a buddy that got you these passes, huh?” you tease, letting your other hand join in with the other, squeezing into his rough hands. Your eyes drift over to the guys again, and you see Ty motion for you to come and stand with them. But you pretend like you didn’t see him. You pretend that the guy that’s had you secretly crying every night for the past couple weeks wasn’t standing there with his beautiful girlfriend, pulling her into him as they ignored everyone else around them. 

“Let’s go up there,” you make the executive decision, which Murph seems completely alright with. 

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, turning to give one last word to Danny and Sam, and to Dean and Monty before taking off toward the staircase to head backstage. The sky is growing dark with clouds, and you wonder if it is going to rain on you.

You spend much of the show watching from side stage, dancing along to every song and singing at the top of your lungs. You’re pretty sure Murph didn’t realize how big of a fan you were when you didn’t miss a single lyric. A few times you caught him staring at you in awe, taking in the sight of you as you enjoyed every single second of the show. 

He could hardly keep his hands off of you, circling your waist or holding onto your hips as you danced. It felt good. He felt safe. He sang along to the slower songs, his lips only inches from your ear as his deep voice ran shivers up your spine. Your eyes peered out into the crowd, and you saw him. Jake’s eyes locked on you as you were wrapped in Murph’s arms singing the words to ‘She’s Long Gone’. It felt a bit ironic, truthfully, because in a way you were. Or atleast, you wanted to be. 

You let your eyes meet his as you mouth the words, his jaw hardening and his lips growing thin as he sipped from his beer. He was mad, maybe even jealous, probably both. You tried not to pay attention, looking up to see Murph standing behind you. His eyes met yours as he kissed the top of your head, sending a flutter of butterflies into your stomach. 

You look over again to see him on his phone, feeling a buzz in your purse almost immediately. You pull your phone from your purse just enough to read his message. 

Jake

9:16PM: What the fuck are you doing right now Y/N

You make eye contact with him as you shove the phone back into your purse and purposefully spin around in Murph’s arms to face him. He knows exactly what you’re doing. He’s watching your every move instead of his girlfriend right next to him. Let him watch. Let him feel how you felt. 

It’s at that moment the guy next to you stumbles backwards, spilling his entire beer all over you. 

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, “I’m so sorry.” 

Murph immediately grows stiff behind you, “Hey man, watch yourself.”

“My bad dude,” he growls. 

“Yeah, it was your bad. Watch yourself next time,” he snaps. 

You turn to Murph and give him a reassuring nod, “It’s okay, let me just go to the bathroom and clean up real quick,” you say. 

“I’ll go with you,” he answers, a crackle of thunder rumbling in the distance. 

“No, no. You stay here. Don’t lose our spot. I will be right back, promise.”

“Alright, don’t be long or I’ll come looking for you,” he smiles, squeezing your arm. 

You make your way to the bathroom, quickly cleaning off the spilled beer and freshening up your makeup. You can hear them starting the encore, just as you step out into the crowd. You see the man that spilled his beer on you approaching you with a smug look on his face. 

“Hey, sorry about that sweetheart. Let me make it up to you? Can I buy you a drink?” he asks. 

“Um, no. I need to get back to my date, actually,” you answer. 

“That brute?” he asks in his thick accent. 

“Yeah. That brute,” you scoff. 

His hand reaches for you as you walk away, grabbing your arm and pulling you back towards him. You see him go flying across the crowd as Murph pushes him off of you, pulling you behind him in a matter of a second. 

“No one ever teach you not to grab a lady?” he says, spitting venom at the man. “I think you should go.”

“Go where?” she spits. 

“Somewhere,” Murph says, and you can feel the fury pouring off of him. “Would be in your best interest to get far fucking away from me, sir. And as quickly as possible.”

He looks Murph up and down, quickly realizing he is no match for him. Not in this lifetime at least. The man mumbles something in a different language and walks in the other direction, admitting defeat. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry Murph, I didn’t think he would follow me,” you whine. 

“Not your fault, baby. Let’s go, yeah? Encore is almost over.”

“Okay, yeah. Hey, thanks for that,” you say, linking your fingers with his. He immediately softens, the tension releasing from his demeanor.

“Of course, wish I could have been there the first time,” he grins.

“Yeah, me too,” you say, thinking of Jake coming to your rescue, and if you truly meant that. 

“Just gotta find the guys and then we can go,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Another crack of thunder lights up the sky, and you know it's about to pour.

“I’m with you,” you smile, following happily at his side as the rain finally does start to fall around you.

—

JAKE POV

“You guys all good? Everyone here and accounted for?” Murph asks as he stands just outside of the awning of the back exit of the venue. 

“We’re fine, you can go,” you bark under your breath, earning yourself a slight of Murph’s eyes. Y/N is standing beside him, his soaked leather jacket draped over her head as she watches him do his job. She’s not complaining, she doesn’t seem bothered by the cold, pouring rain at all. She actually looks…

He’s soaking wet, completely unbothered by the rain soaking through his shirt, too. Does this guy feel anything? Ever? Fucking man’s man.

As you slip through the back private door exit into the pouring rain behind them, you can’t help but feel overwhelmingly defeated. Defeated, and also so fucking envious that you know that your eyes are turning green. You can feel Isla’s finger slip through your back belt loop, following behind you as she shields herself from the blowing rain. You make little to no effort to hold her hand, or offer her your jacket, because frankly, you just don’t fucking think to. 

All you can think of is seeing her hand in Murph’s, the genuine smile on her face as he pulled her toward backstage, and the joy in her eyes as he tossed his jacket over her head as they rushed outside. Fuck him. Fuck it. Does he even have any fucking clue that you and her–

No. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, because if she had told him about you and her, he would not be pursuing her right now. So he’s living blindly. Great.

Your hands are almost visibly shaking as you think about what they’re probably going to do tonight, and the way you left things with her. You still crave her, want to be involved with every little detail of her life, but now… god dammit, everything is ruined. Totally and completely fucking ruined.

Josh swings the door to the van open as you let everyone else climb inside ahead of you. You feel Isla’s finger slip free finally, and you let her climb in before you, hoping that there won’t be any room left for you to sit beside her.

But of course, your luck has run all the way out, and the only seat left in the van is squished in beside Mia, Danny, and her. She pats the seat, giving you her faux- fuck me eyes. “Sit here, baby, plenty of room…”

You audibly groan, contemplating walking for just a second before a loud crack of thunder shakes the air, forcing you inside the van. As it takes off through the puddling rain, you stare out the window in an attempt to ignore Isla’s wandering hand on your knee, getting way too close for comfort. 

It’s as you grip her hand in yours and pull it away that you catch sight of them, Y/N and Murph booking it down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, hand in hand as their faces are lit up with laughter. She’s smiling so big as the rain soaks her clothing, seeming to have no care in the world as they make the tight turn into the lot. Before you lose sight of them, you catch him throwing his arm around her shoulders, kissing the side of her head. It takes everything in you to not punch the window and break every single piece of glass from it, letting it shatter and cut your hands as you yell obscenities through the air. Who the fuck does he think he is?!

You’re sick with rage, the jealousy so overwhelming you swear you might be going insane. You feel your breathing pick up and your jaw tighten, physically ill with the thought of his hands on her. Where your hands belong. You think back to last night in the gym, how she yelled at you, how she seemed so distraught, and so disappointed in how things had worked out. Your heart is deafening in your ears, your fists balled up tightly as you try to talk yourself down.

Has she forgotten all the things you said to her? All the promises you made, all the honesty you’d shown when you let your guard down? Is she really about to waste it all?

Suddenly Isla’s hand on your thigh seems a lot less like an aggravation, and a lot more like the perfect opportunity, presenting itself on a silver platter. 

Suddenly a slew of evil thoughts creep into the back corners of your mind, spiteful and grating as the bitterness takes up shop in your bones like a family of snakes.

Suddenly, resentment is the only emotion you feel.

—

HER POV

Your hand is on Murph’s thigh as he zips in and out of traffic as you leave the venue. Your whole body is buzzing after watching him show his authority to that stupid drunk guy, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said your mind hadn’t already traveled to some dark places in just the few short minutes you’d been in the car. 

“That guy was a fucking idiot, Y/N. I almost fucking throttled him right then and there…” he says through gritted teeth. You squeeze his leg, trying your best to calm him, or even better, get him worked up in another way. 

“It was fine, he was fine…I was handling it, I’m—”

“He spilled his beer all over you, Y/N! That’s not fucking okay! Following you? Grabbing you?” he stopped there, tapping his fingers angrily on the steering wheel. 

“Well, it’s a good thing your friend was the one working their security tonight, right? You don’t always have to take care of everyone all the time, ya know…” you tried to speak quietly. 

“Yes I do, Y/N. I don’t know any other way. Especially when it comes to someone like you…” he goes on, his eyes never leaving the road. He’s hunched forward in his seat, the windshield wipers on full blast as they swipe the raindrops falling heavily on the windshield. 

“Someone like me?” You ask, hoping that he will explain further. Your body is burning with want for him, watching as his hands white-knuckle the wheel, and his left foot taps against the floorboards. The rain is still dripping down his cheeks, the top-half of his t-shirt almost completely soaked, making the material stick to his toned arms just a little too perfectly. 

You shudder under the warmth of his jacket that he threw over you as you ran out the side exit into the downpour, ready to be away from the chaos that had just ensued inside. 

“Yeah, someone like you. Someone I’m determined to keep around,” he says, giving you a quick glance from the side of his eye. 

Your hand squeezes tighter around his thigh, and you feel no shame in moving it just a little higher. “You want me around?” you purr, like you don’t already know how into you he is. 

He takes a deep breath as you near the parking lot of your hotel, his body slowly but surely calming from his adrenaline rush. “Yeah, I want you around. I want you around really fucking bad…” his hand mirrors yours, drifting to wrap almost completely around your leg, choosing a spot much, much higher than the one where your hand rests on his. 

You almost moaned at his touch, his hand warm against the bare, chilled skin of your legs. You suck in a quick breath at his show of what is obviously desperation. 

“Murph…” you breathe, your voice almost choked as you rise from your seat a little more, begging him to move his hand, dig his fingers in, anything…

“What, baby? Tell me what you want…” he growls, his chest heaving a little as one hand steers the car, while the other steers you into oblivion. 

You exhale hard as his grip tightens, the pads of his fingertips adding extra pressure as he slowly ascends higher and higher on your leg. 

The stoplight hanging above you turns red, and you curse it, or thank it, really…for giving you a second. 

“I want…I—” you can hardly form the words, and he is hardly even touching you. 

When you refuse to answer him, he retreats, his hand drifting away now down toward your knee. 

“No, don’t…”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you as the light stays red. “I said tell me, Y/N. Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you, whatever you want…” he shakes his head slowly as he talks, promising you his whole world like he doesn’t even know he’s slowly destroying yours. 

“Want you to—to touch me, please, Murph. I—”

Without a word his hand climbs up again, snaking underneath your skirt to cup his palm directly over your cunt. The feeling is enough to pull a quiet whine from your chest, and you grip both armrests with haste as he presses two fingers expertly exactly where you need them. 

“Fuck…” you breathe, his fingers slowly beginning to move. 

The light turns green, and you slowly take off again. “This it? This what you wanted?” he asks.

You nod hard. “Mhm, yeah…” your legs fall apart a little bit on their own, your body pleading for him to have more access to you. Where the fuck is the hotel?!

You hear him breathing heavily as you know he wants nothing more than to touch you better, watch your face as his fingers move across you, already dripping wet for him. 

As his fingers pull your panties to the side with one quick motion, your entire body feels like it’s about to erupt into flames. His fingers finally connect with you, skin on skin, and it’s almost too much. Your arms pick you up from your seat a little as your head hits the headrest, your mouth falling open as his middle finger connects with your clit. 

“Oh my god…” you mutter, a little more loudly than earlier. Your new position allows him to dip his fingers low again, brushing against your opening and dragging your wetness through your folds. Your hand finds his arm, squeezing the muscle as you feel his tendons tighten and loosen as he works his hand expertly beneath your skirt. 

You take a second to glance down, his hand completely hidden by the material of your skirt. The visual is all-encompassing as the lightning flashes another loud rumble of thunder through the air. 

“God I can’t wait to park this fucking car,” Murph grits as he pulls into the private parking garage. It’s generally empty, save for a few cars here and there that look like they haven’t moved in a while. Most of the overhead lights are burnt out, leaving the garage nothing but a winding maze of shadows. 

Murph whips the vehicle into a parking place against the back wall, into an area not illuminated with much light, at all. As soon as he puts it in park, he reaches underneath the seat to pull the lever, sending his chair as far back as it will go. 

“Get the fuck over here,” he demands, holding up the two fingers that were just nearly inside you up, motioning for you to climb over the console. 

You do as he asks, clambering over top of the center console and falling into his lap. One knee on either side of him, you press your entire body weight into him, both of you still soaked and frozen from the rain. 

His hands are immediately gripping the backs of your thighs, jerking you into a position that he’s happy with as you grab his face, pressing your lips hard against his. Both of you are ripping and tearing at each other’s clothes, nails scraping and pulling across the skin of one another as your yearning finally comes to a head. 

Your arms snake from his face to around his neck, your fingers catching the bill of his backwards hat, tearing it off his head and throwing it into the backseat. For the first time, you see his full head of dark, straight hair, a tousled mess, but matching the brown of his eyes perfectly. 

You take his strands between the cracks of your fingers, pulling and twisting it into your grasp as he starts to make noises, now. Your tongues are fighting each other, the sweetness of the taste of him bringing you back to all the other times you’ve kissed him, but none ever this intense. None ever this desperate. 

You take the time to press yourself down against his lap, finally feeling him hard and ready between your legs. He moans into your mouth, his hands now snaked up under your skirt again, his hands fully cupping both your asscheeks. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad, baby…” he says as you break away for a second. “Feel so fuckin’ good…”

“You haven’t even felt me yet, Murph…” you laugh. 

“Don’t need to feel you to know how good you are…how perfect…” he praises through pants of air. You reach behind you, searching with your hand until you find his cock, basically bursting at the seams of his still-damp jeans. You brush your hand across it a little before you squeeze. Just that touch makes him jump, his hands disconnecting from you for just a second as he gathers himself, his head rolling back a little as he grips your face in his hands, returning back to the heated kiss. 

“Unbutton your jeans, Ezra,” you finally demand, unable to take this foreplay any longer. 

He wordlessly obeys your command, lifting you up with one hand while the other does what you want, and unbuckles his belt. You never let up on moving your lips across his neck and behind his ear, needing him to know how badly you want this. You want him. 

You can feel your arousal pooling again as his fingers fidget so closely to where you need them, but finally you hear the sound of his zipper pulling down, and the feeling of his dick springing free. 

You sit back, your back almost hitting the steering wheel as you take a good look at him, hair a mess and face flushed in the darkness, before letting your eyes travel down his torso and land on his cock. 

Your hand gravitates to it, wasting no time in letting yourself feel him, finally. His left hand shoots behind him and wraps around the headrest, while the other one trails along your face, your shoulder, your hip…

Your hand begins to work him, barely enough material in his jeans and boxers to give him enough room to spring all the way free. “Fuck, Y/N…” he breathes, bucking his hips up into your touch. Your eyes flitter to watch his face, his eyelids hooded and his mouth hanging open. 

“I don’t have any protection…” he finally admits, breathing out a dissatisfied sigh. 

“Good thing I don’t care,” you respond, surprising yourself. You know you aren’t ovulating, and you know Murph isn’t the type of man to even let you get this far if you had anything else to worry about. Your mind is spinning too fast and your body is ravaging itself with want too badly to care, anyway. 

You wrap your arms around his neck again, sitting up as you let yourself search for his tip. Your hips swirl around a little until you finally find it, teasing yourself just a little as you let your wetness coat him. 

“Are you sure, baby…” he begs, truly showing his gentlemanly morals, as far in as you already are. 

“Do I have anything to worry about?” you ask, feeling a little annoyed. 

He shakes his head quickly from side to side. “No. I promise.”

“Good then, I’m positive…” you respond, lining up perfectly with him. You slowly begin to sink yourself down on him, letting your body adjust to this new stretch as you do so. “Ffff…” you breathe out as you realize he just keeps filling you and filling you, so deliciously sweet you think you could come undone already. 

The sounds that escape both of you bounce off the windows of the car as the steam already starts to coat them, both of you unable to utter a coherent word at all. You lift off of him again, finding him to be of notable size, before sinking back down and bottoming out again. “Shit, Y/N… my god, baby…” he says as he brushes your damp hair from your face, giving your whole body an up-down. 

“Mhmm…” you agree, pressing your chest back to his as you lean forward, starting to find a little bit of a rhythm. Things are always more difficult in a vehicle, especially in the cramped front seat of one, but you could truly care less that your knee is shoving into the seatbelt and your head is hitting the top of the cab. 

His hands are traveling all over you, warming your skin as they do, and you wish that he could touch you all over and caress the places he can’t reach, all for the sake of warming you up. Your handles, your sides, your breasts… he takes special care to take his time and memorize you, all while the both of you are straining to keep yourselves together. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” you say as your hands dig in to his pecs. 

“All yours baby, take what you want,” he growls, thrusting up into you.

He buries his head in your chest, and you silently thank Ruth for the shirt suggestion. His lips drag warm and wet across your chest, pulling the fabric of your shirt to the side to reveal your chest. He drags his teeth against your sensitive skin, causing goosebumps to rise and your nipples to harden further. 

“Baby, shit…”

“God, Ez, keep going,” you beg breathlessly. 

The sounds filling the cab are lewd and wet and everything you knew this would be. His mouth is velvet against your skin as your fingers grip harder into his hair. You start to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, knowing you aren’t going to last very much longer, especially in this position. 

“Y/N,” he groans, letting his hands rest at the curve of your waist, “I want you, baby,” he pauses, gasping for air as he fights his release, “Want you all the time.”

His hips snap up into you, your eyes watering at the sensation. He feels so fucking good. “I want you,” you whine, tightening and fluttering around his cock.

“I’ll give it to you. You just fucking say it and I’ll give it to you,” he begs, needing desperately to claim you as his own. 

His hand snakes down, his fingers circling rapidly over your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge. 

“Murph, baby, yes! I’m there. I’m coming, fuck,” you cry out, the windows of the car practically dripping with condensation. 

“Yeah, baby, me too, god you’re so fuckin’ sexy. Fuckin’ gorgeous, cum Y/N, let me fill you,” he says, thrusting into you one last time as you both meet your collective release. 

Your name falls from his lips as you gasp his, your hands never leaving his hair as you unravel around him. You feel him warm and full inside of you, his eyes rolled back in his head as he starts to come down. 

“I don’t wanna move,” you smile, pressing your lips to his.

“Don’t have to. More than happy to keep you right here, just like this,” he grins, nipping at your bottom lip. “Though I’d love to take you back to my room to get cleaned up.”

“Yeah? You want more?” you tease. 

“I’ll never get enough of you girl,” he says, a little bit of an accent peeking through. 

“Makes two of us,” you grin, rolling your hips one last time before lifting up off of him.

“I think we have early call time tomorrow, though,” he says, seemingly disappointed.

“We do. Full day, but then we have a week off,” you say, raising your eyebrows suggestively. 

“Hmm, and just what am I gonna do with you for a full week,” he teases. 

“I can think of a few things,” you wink. 

“Come on, trouble. Let me walk you back to your room.”

—

JAKE POV

Pulling back into the hotel, you find yourself still reeling with madness, hoping to god you don’t run into Y/N and Murph in the lobby. It’d be in their best interest to stay far, far away from you right now. 

You feel Josh at your side as you shake your jacket free of the residual rain and beeline toward the elevator, daring someone to even try and talk to you. 

“Jake, baby, I’ll see you upstairs?” Isla asks from across the lobby as Lyla pulls her to the hotel bar. “We’re just having one drink.” You nod at her and wave her off, not really giving a fuck. Your mind is still rushing with those horrible thoughts of revenge, and you tell yourself that it would be the most delicious thing right now, to get a taste of retaliation and forbidden fruit at the same time. It’s fucking dirty and you know it, but it makes the thought all the more alluring. 

“Hey, asshole, do not do what I think you’re gonna do…” you hear Josh in your ear as you step onto the elevator, Ty right behind him. 

“Yeah, Jake, we saw them going to the parking garage too, I know you’re fucking seething with jealousy right now, but do not do this…” Ty agrees as you press the button for your floor repeatedly. 

You cross your arms in front of you, staring up at the ceiling as you ignore them. Your skin is absolutely freezing, but it’s almost as if you can’t even feel it, completely numb physically and emotionally.

“I’m going to do whatever I fucking want,” you say, keeping monotone. 

“Jake, I know you think that this is a good idea right now, but I swear to god if I wake up tomorrow and find out you fucking slept with her–” Josh grits in your ear, and you know he will probably make your life a living hell. But in all actuality, he doesn’t have to know shit. 

The elevator dings for your floor, and you make a quick exit, leaving the two of them without another glance. “Night.”

You make a mad dash to your room, ripping your wet clothes off and changing into a pair of loose black sweatpants, forgoing a shirt. You make your way to the mini bar, grabbing two bottles of tequila and a cup, deciding to dig into the half-melted ice in the bucket from earlier in the day. You crack them open and pour them over the melted ice, drinking down half of it in one swallow.

What the fuck are you even thinking?

Suddenly Isla bursts back into the room, and that one drink at the bar must have ended pretty quickly, as she still had the bar glass full in her hand. “Heyyyyy baby!” she gloats with a hiccup. “I couldn’t wait any more, I wanted to come back up here with you…”

You recline back in your spot on the bed, grabbing your phone to mindlessly scroll as you attempt to ignore her. You’re going to fight this tooth and nail…

She begins dancing around the room, sipping her drink as she does. She’s singing a familiar tune, and it only takes you a few seconds to recognize it as a Keys song from tonight. You pay a little bit more attention, noticing that she isn’t singing any of the words correctly. 

“Isla, get the words right, or don’t sing it at all. You’re insulting them,” you say, cutting your eyes at her.

She scoffs, “Ugh, at least I’m trying, their music just… was never really my cup of tea.”

You nearly choke on your own tongue. “Uh excuse me? They’ve been one of my biggest influences for the past ten years, all I fucking play and you don’t even like their music? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorrrrrry!” She falls onto the bed belly first, giggling at herself as she bounces. “They’re just kind of boring, I guess.” 

If you weren’t insulted by the wrong lyrics, you’re fucking insulted now. No wonder things aren’t working out between the two of you. You toss back another drink of your liquor, resorting back to your phone to occupy you. Images of Murph and Y/N litter your mind again, and the envy piles back up in your chest, wondering what the hell they are doing right now. How fucking could she? And how the fuck could he?? His job is to come here and work for you, not galavant around with his coworkers… 

Your eyes are caught watching the same video on repeat when Isla stands back up and pulls her shirt over her head, tossing it to her bag in the corner. You can't help but let your eyes drift, watching as she pulls her tight skirt down, revealing her perfectly proportioned body in a matching deep purple lace set. You swallow as you watch her move, running her hands over her body as she adjusts the thong, then as she runs her hands through her long tousled hair. 

Fuck, look away.

She turns, her left hand lightly cupping her breast as she faces you completely, hardly paying you any mind as she lifts her drink to her lips again. She slowly sits on the edge of the bed, running her hand over her legs in an attempt to warm herself up. “That was a really good show though, wasn’t it Jake?” she asks, her eyes flicking to you for just a second as the remnants of her red lipstick stick to the white straw. “I see why you love them so much, and I’m sorry I never paid much attention before. ‘M gonna download a bunch of their songs right now…”

Your nose scrunches up in disbelief. She what?

“Yeah um, they’re excellent. Been around a really long time,” you agree, clearing your throat as you speak. She tilts her drink back a little as she nears the bottom of it, scrolling on her phone as she plays the beginnings of the Keys most popular songs. She stretches her neck as she listens and bobs her head, adding the songs to her playlist as she goes. Your eyes can’t help but wander again, taking in the shape of her back and legs, once all yours for the taking. 

Her lingerie looks familiar, but you don’t want to let your eyes sit too long to figure out why. She stands and flips the lamp by the bed off, placing her empty glass on the nightstand. She lays down beside you, still completely invested in her phone and her music, humming along to the songs as she plays them. 

For a second, things feel like they did a year ago, the two of you in a comfortable silence as you minded your own business, just happy to be in each others’ presence. No arguing, no yelling, just listening to music and being near one another. 

It feels… nice. 

She’s ignoring you altogether now, watching the videos she took tonight as she smiles and laughs at them, sending a few to Mia and Lyla.

Her hair is so long that the ends of it are tickling your arm, sending a little bit of a chill through your body. Your eyes begin to blur from the straight tequila, a familiar warmth coming through your veins. Suddenly memories come flowing back of the last time you saw her in that set, your brain racking with visions of her trying to take it off, but you making her leave it on.

You feel a wave of anxiousness shoot through you as her eyes pop to yours, catching you looking at her. “What are you looking at, Jacob?” she asks flatly. 

“Nothing,” you reply, your eyes shooting back to your phone.

“Doesn’t look like nothing…” she grins, her eyes going back to her phone, too.

Before you can stop the words, they fall freely from your mouth. “Why did you wear that under your dress tonight?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno, it has good memories attached to it. Was hoping you’d take it off of me… You bought it for me for our anniversary last year, remember?”

Ah, that’s why it’s so familiar.

“Oh yeah, I remember,” you reply, and suddenly you remember a lot more from that night. Dinner and drinks had turned into a wild night, both of you passing out on the couch completely nude after not having made it back to the bed, at all. 

“But, that didn’t happen,” she goes on, “I didn’t wanna waste it again, so I’m just wearing it for myself.” Her voice is light and airy, the complete opposite of what it normally is these days. The normal weight that sits above the two of you suddenly feels like a cloud full of sunlight, and you can’t lie, your sex-starved mind is having trouble taking your eyes off of her as her thumb mindlessly runs along the front seam of her thong.

She crosses one of her legs over the other as they’re bent up on the bed, her finger still scrolling through old Keys albums as she listens to her snippets, tapping her foot along in the air as the music plays. What the fuck, Jake? Get it together… Tooth and nail, remember? Tooth. And. Nail.

Just like she can read your mind, her free hand comes up and begins drifting over her skin, tickling herself just like she always does when she starts to get sleepy. You watch as her red fingernails lightly dust over her thighs and stomach, then along the side of her tit as she continues to ignore your existence, all the while you have begun to fight for your life through the lust that’s unabashedly coursing through your body. Ignore it Jake…

But the lust is too strong, and your need for revenge is greater than giving a fuck about the repercussions. Hell, Y/N is probably naked and under Murph right now, what do you have to lose? You remember the look Danny gave you at the show after Murph whispered in his ear, and the text that he sent you shortly thereafter that simply said ‘Yeah, it’s what you think’. She ignored you all day, your text at the show, won’t even give you the time or a second glance… Everything is fucked anyway…

Isla is still relaxed across the bed, slurping at the melted ice in the bottom of her glass without a care. Is she really ignoring you right now? After being so persistent the past few days, what switched?

Her fingers are still drifting, her tits sitting perfectly in the purple lace cups, and your hands begin to remember what they feel like when you squeezed them, that deep-rooted feeling of desire burning hot in your belly and chest. God damnit…

She moans a little yawn as she switches her crossed leg, obviously making a spectacle of her own body, but you swear on your life, she doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose. She truly looks like she’s just laying and relaxing in her own little world on her phone. This is your old Isla. You hear another laugh fall from her lips as she’s now switched to texting in a group with Mia and Lyla, completely uncaring that you can fully see her screen. The sound is like music to your intoxicated ears, reminding you of all the times you would make her make that sound. When you would make her make even better sounds.

Truly, sex was never your issue. It came so naturally to the two of you that it felt habitual but in a good way, leaving little to discuss because you each knew the other's body so intimately, so perfectly. You feel your dick hardening in your jeans as you try to distract your thoughts, but also, why should you?

Just then, Isla sets her glass back down, turning her body to face you with her hand tucked up under her cheek. “Do you wish these were your hands on me, Jake? I can feel your eyes...”

You swallow harshly as you’re caught. “Maybe,” you growl.

She giggles, leaning in closely as her lips drift across yours. You feel her essence take over your senses, remembering the smell of her like it was yesterday. The intoxicating feeling of her body on yours when you weren’t screaming at each other tumbling back from its place in your memory box. Her hand drifts up to grip in your roots, pulling your face further into her, but not yet making contact. 

You’re breathless as you watch her eyes scan yours, her brow furrowed as she tries to read you. Your chest is tight and your limbs are frozen in place. You feel like you’re unable to think as you decide on your next move. Your body wants to pick her up and bend her over, rip her thong to the side and fuck her into the headboard until she’s screaming your name… but your mind is begging you to stay away. Back out now. Run so far away that you get lost. 

But the devil on your shoulder begins to win the fight as your body betrays you, your head leaning in to finally let your lips make contact with hers. Her grip on your hair tightens as she kisses you back, her tongue already diving deep into your mouth. You bite it, pulling on it with force before switching to holding it with your lips, popping it before you dive right back in. 

Motherfucker she tastes so good, the cold tequila still very much present on her lips. 

The both of you are ravenous once contact is made, your arms wrapping around her to lie her back into the pillows, giving you a bit more control as your hands begin to explore her body. 

Fuck, this is so wrong. This is such a bad goddamned idea. Stop, just stop now, while you’re ahead…

But she tastes like fucking honey. And your dick is throbbing. And she’s so familiar, and gorgeous, and begging for you to fuck her…

She whimpers into your mouth as your hand drifts down to grip her tit, ripping the fabric away as your fingers pinch at her nipple, rolling it between your thumb and pointer finger. The sound alone makes your dick twitch in your pants, and all you can imagine is her hand on you, pulling you free from the confines of your boxers. Your hand moves from her tit to her side, gripping your fingertips into it as you move down to her hip, your mouths still fighting each other for dominance.

You press down on her hip with force, making one of her knees bend up. Your hand brushes across her stomach and down to her cunt, her body already bucking itself up into your touch and you haven’t even given it to her yet. You break away from the kiss, panting and sweating with blind lust as you look into her eyes, deep and dark as she bites her swollen lips together. 

Finally she gives you what you want, her hand reaching between you to brush over your dick, hard as rock under her hand. “Hm, still get hard for me, huh Jacob? I knew you did–”

You silence her quickly with a harsh hand over her mouth blocking any more words from escaping. You pause, giving her a look so menacing you think it might scare her off, but instead, you feel her smile under it. She undoes the button of your jeans with one quick motion, letting her hand dive inside your jeans and boxers, finding your cock with ease. You inhale sharply at the feeling of her grip, your jaw tightening down as you continue to press your hand on her mouth. She pulls your waistband down with her other hand as your dick springs free, bobbing and grazing the inside of her leg.

Her hand travels to tease the tip, lightly tickling over it as your eyes begin to roll back. Her eyebrows raise in question, and you know exactly what she’s thinking, the conniving–

You thrust into her hand, your entire self burning with desire to fill her up, but your hand presses on her mouth harder. Her leg falls to the side even more as your free hand reaches down to grip yourself, running it over the fabric of her thong. Her eyes close quickly as you tease her back, pushing the head of your dick against her opening, already drenched through the lace.

You kiss her again, but only once before breaking away. Your finger hooks in the seam of her thong, pulling it to the side as you use your hand to guide yourself into her, slowly, so fucking painfully slowly…

“You don’t say a mother fucking word about this to anyone, you hear me?” you ask quietly as you hold eye contact, your hand still covering her mouth. “No one knows.”

You stupid idiot motherfucker.

Your hand is still gripped on your shaft as you circle around her entrance, still only allowing yourself a few centimeters of access. “Do you hear me?” you ask, of which she responds with a quick nod. 

“If you want me to fuck you, say yes… but if I hear of you sharing this with even fucking Lyla, I swear to god…”

You pull your hand away from her mouth for long enough to hear her speak. “Yes, Jake, please… I promise, it’s our secret… no one has to know…” she pleads, and you know she could be lying, but you’re already in this far. “Please, baby I need to feel you…” Finally, against every voice screaming at you in the back of your mind, you let your hips press into her all the way, her leg flying out to the side as her head tilts back into the pillows. “Ahhhh, oh my god oh my god baby…” she groans as you bottom out, and you have to admit, she still feels fucking perfect wrapped around you. One of the best you have ever fucking had. 

Your mind is racing with thoughts so fast you can hardly see straight, the liquor definitely doing its job in assisting your lust. You pull out, your dick completely drenched with her wetness, before pushing back in again. You want to take it slow, enjoy every single second of your revenge, but on the other hand you want to get this over with. You know you’ve already made a grave mistake. 

You maneuver yourself to place both hands on either side of her head, hovering over her completely now as her hands latch on to your sides, pulling you further into her. “God baby, harder, please…” she begs. 

You tap her lips with your fingertips. “Shh. Quiet, remember?”

She nods accordingly, biting her lips to keep herself from screaming out. You place both of your knees between her legs as you sit back a little bit, taking in the blurry sight of her. So gorgeous and perfect just like you remember. Just as your eyes hit where the two of your bodies are connected, she reaches down with both hands, pulling her lips apart even further for you. The visual is enough to make you want to cum right then and there, and you groan loudly as you press into her again, a new sensation as her hands make her opening even tighter for you. 

“Jacob, baby, I thought we were being quiet?” she says, biting into your shoulder. 

You breathe a displeased huff as her teeth dig into your muscle, causing you to want to choke out another moan of pleasure. She knows exactly what she’s doing. You pick up with pace for real now, holding on to the back of the headboard as you lift one of her legs to bend to her chest, and wrapping the other one around your waist. You begin pounding into her with a force so dramatic the headboard is beating against the wall, but you could care less. 

She’s still biting her lips, trying her best to hold her sounds in, but then again, you’re having a hard time, too. God, this feels so fucking good. But it doesn’t feel right. Not in the least. Your guilt is starting to sink in as you look down at Isla’s gorgeous face begging to scream your name, all the while imagining Y/N doing the same for you, not that long ago. 

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. Your body has rejected you, your mind isn’t as strong as you thought. The most devastating mistake you could ever make is happening right now in real time, and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re not going to make it out alive. 

Isla gushes around you as you feel her body tightening, her nails gripping into your sides as she makes her marks on you. She reaches behind your neck, pulling you down to her. You release your grip on the headboard and follow her guidance. “C’mere, baby, want you down here with me where I can see you, where I can feel you. Missed you so bad… wanted us again for so long. Fuck, you feel so goddamn good inside of me, baby…” she whispers, still following your instruction of being quiet. Her words were always the cherry on top of her already top-notch fucking, and you halfway consider flipping her to let her ride you, but you avoid the thought. 

You slow things down as her hand still stays rested between you, the other still pulling at your hair drifting down into your face. You feel her hand move between you, massaging her clit as you begin to roll your hips at a slower pace. “What, I’m not enough for you?” you ask, swiping her hand away and taking over the motion yourself. 

Isla laughs. “No, just wanted you to take that job over for me,” she smirks with a satisfied smile. Fuck, she did it again. You can feel her wetness all over your hand as you continue your languid swipes into her, your thumb working her up even more, now. The sounds that fill the room are wet and smacking, making the high you’re reaching for all the more craveable. She feels fucking perfect. But, you know that she is not. 

Your hand covers her mouth again as her moans become closer and closer together, her eyes closing as her jaw falls open. You know she’s close, but you’re not going to let anyone hear the commotion if they happen to come knocking on your door. 

“Gonna come, Jake… baby–” she says from behind your hand, and you feel her whole body tensing and tightening as her orgasm washes over her, her nails digging roughly into your sides. And the feeling of her coming apart beneath you for what had to be the thousandth time, finally feels like what would be the last. 

Her pathetic sounds make you begin to throb inside her, and you know you’ll be following closely behind in a matter of seconds. You release your hold on her mouth as you steady yourself, your hands gripping hard into the sheets as the white light hits your eyes. 

Jake, no.

At the very last second, you pull away from her, taking yourself in your hand and pumping a few times before you let yourself go, coating her stomach and legs with your release. 

The both of you breathe through the comedowns, sweaty and panting as the reality of what just happened sets in. You hop up to get her a towel, returning to help her wipe herself clean. 

“You could have, you know…” she says with disappointment.

You shake your head as you toss the rag to the floor and lay back down again, still out of breath. “No. I couldn’t have. How would I know if you skipped a pill or something?”

“Jake, I would never–”

“You wouldn’t? Are you sure about that?” you ask, proud of yourself for not making that mistake. 

She stays quiet as she avoids eye contact with you. “You’re probably not even on it anymore, are you?” you ask. She solemnly shakes her head.

“Made me sick.”

You nod, knowing that that wasn’t a conversation that would have been appropriate at all in the past few months. 

“This goes nowhere but in this bedroom, Isla, please promise me. You understand?” you ask. “It was a moment of weakness. This doesn’t change anything about where we stand.”

She sniffles her nose clear. “It changes nothing, huh?”

You swallow, finding the courage to speak on this once and for all. Finding a clear and level head like you’d never found it before. “Nothing.”

And it truly didn’t. You still feel the exact same. Though your bodies mesh so perfectly that it’s a sin in itself to go unacted upon, you know that the toxicity would come creeping back, just like it always does. It’s time to wash your hands clean. 

“Do you still love me, Jake? Even a little bit?”

You shake your head. “No, Isla. It’s gone.”

—

HER POV

You roll over to find yourself in an unfamiliar place, your hair a mess over your eyes as the sunlight beams onto your face. You sit up in a hurry, the memories of last night coming back into your mind one by one. Ezra’s room. You calm a little as you brush the strands from your eyes, huffing a breath of relief as you search around the room for him, but you come up short. 

The bathroom light is off, and you notice that his boots are not by the door. You glance to the clock to find it still fairly early, your call time not for another hour. There, laying on the nightstand by the clock, is a folded piece of white paper with your name written on the front in scribbled pen. You pick it up and unfold it, finding it to be the receipt from the place you’d grabbed a late, greasy dinner with Murph at a place by the hotel last night. He’d insisted that you eat, even though you both were a soaked, freezing, post-sex mess.

Mornin’ sunshine

Couldn’t wake you, you looked too damn pretty

Had a great time with you last night

The boys are gonna have a hard time knockin this smile off my face today

But I won’t tell them why : ) 

The breakfast downstairs ain’t my momma’s, but it’s close

See you later on baby

-Ezra

You swoon at the fact he left you a love note to wake up to, and you fold it back up, tucking it perfectly into your purse that lied on the floor by the bed. Your mood has instantly changed, and you’d almost completely forgotten about the dramatics that Jake decided to add to the evening with his text and song addition last night.

He looked absolutely miserable. You know that his hands on Isla were just to piss you off and attempt to make you jealous, and they did to an extent, but really all it did was make you feel even worse for him. You know that if you hadn’t been standing there with Murph, he would have been enjoying the show with his brothers, one hand stuffed in his pocket and not wrapped around Isla’s waist in a petty attempt to jab at you. 

Poor guy, honestly. Maybe you were too harsh on him in the gym. But damn, if it doesn’t feel like all Jake does is try to explain himself to you. Maybe one last try. One last go around of hearing his side of things…

You pick up your phone seeing a slew of notifications, but what you can’t seem to shake away is the song on repeat in your mind. The one he added to tell you how he feels. He doesn’t want to fight. Hell, you don’t want to fight either. It’s been exhausting. You toss your phone onto the bed as you run your fingers through your hair, deciding that against your better judgment you want to give Jake one more shot, one more chance to clear things up. You’ve got to be an adult about this, your job depends on it. 

You make yourself look presentable, brushing your teeth and throwing on something more appropriate as you snatch a keycard from the dresser. 

You know Isla will be in there with him, but she is going to give you a minute to speak to Jake. You have just as much dog in this fight as she does, given that Jake and everyone else has been telling you the truth about their relationship for all this time. You had somewhat of a relationship with him, too. And if you’re going to continue to work professionally by his side, you’re clearing it up. Now. 

You make a quick pit stop in the downstairs lobby, grabbing not two, but three coffees and a handful of sugar packets. Peace offering. Like adults.

You rush back upstairs and knock a few times on his door, stepping back to gain your confidence to ask him to speak privately in the hall. No emotions, no ties. Just a chance to clear the air, that’s all you really want. 

You hear a commotion behind the door and a high-pitched giggle that you instantly recognize. Suddenly the door swings open, revealing a scantily-clad Isla, her body wrapped up in the bed sheets that are hardly doing enough to cover her barren chest and legs. Oh. A quick glance behind her shows Jake in almost the same attire, sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed as he tries to cover himself. 

Fucking shit.

You watch as his eyes fall shut and his face grimaces, knowing that this is the worst possible way they could have been caught. And that’s exactly what you did. You fucking caught them.

“Oh, hey, we didn’t order room service… Jake already ate plenty last night, but thanks anyway,” Isla smirks a harsh wink at you as she attempts to pull the sheet more tightly around her before slamming the door in your face. 

Tears are already filling your eyes as you set the coffees down on the floor, rushing back off toward the elevator as quickly as you can. That was the last fucking thing you thought you’d see this morning.

Your breath is catching in your throat as you pace, and you hear the faint sound of Jake’s voice yelling after you as you get closer to your destination. You ignore it, but hear it and his footsteps getting closer. Fuck him, fuck all of this. 

Finally you reach the metal doors, pressing the button over and over and over until it finally springs open and you step inside, watching the image of Jake running down the hall toward you, your name falling from his lips as the doors cut him off. You hear his fists bang on the cold metal before it takes off on its descent, leaving your heart to plummet to the ground right along with it. 

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[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Seven)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki AU, crying, swearing. Sexual tension? Mentions of tattoos, piercings in questionable areas, Jihoon getting flustered over (insinuated) dirty thoughts.

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: Oh my goodness guys. Thank you all for 1000 followers. You’re all the loveliest and I can’t thank you all enough for enjoying my stories! 🥰 also dedicating this chapter to the love of my life Bada Lee because I’m obsessed with Street Woman Fighter rn can you tell 😂

- Tae 💜✨

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The very next morning, Jihoon stirs from his slumber to find a barrage of texts from Soonyoung, seemingly excited about his best friend joining him on the camping trip. He rolls his eyes with a little smile as he looks over the wall of text detailing when the crew will leave for the trip and what to bring. Jihoon makes a mental note to invest in a small tent for him and Ji-ah to share and some snacks to bring for the bonfire.

With a long yawn, Jihoon rises tiredly as the sunlight creeps in through his window, the time on his phone reading 7:47am. He sighs as he lets himself slip out of his bed and onto the carpeted floor to reach for a pair of shorts and a compression gym shirt. The weather is looking nice enough for a jog, he thinks. After sliding into his sneakers and putting his earphones in, he places his phone into the pockets of his shorts before taking off out the front door and into the direction of the city streets.

After a thirty minute jog, Jihoon finds himself stepping into an intriguing bakery with the intention for a bagel and a bitter black coffee. As he steps into Love Letter Cafe, his eyes widen as he sees none other than his soulmate sitting inside one of the booths on the right hand side of the Cafe surrounded by three others. Jihoon panics for a moment before slipping into an unused booth on the left side of the room, peeking over to see who was seated around you.

His eyes fall on both yours and his housemates, Seokmin and Mingyu with you, Seokmin by your side and Mingyu diagonally across from you. He observes the new edition to your group, his long dark hair tied up in a half up-half down style wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a white tank top, his left arm adorned with tattoos from his shoulder all the way down to his fingertips, a black hooded jacket sitting over his lap as you seemingly laugh at a comment he’s made. You are also in the same outfit as the mystery man, your long hair pulled up into a high ponytail, your oversized jacket falling off your shoulders as you lean forward to take a sip of your hot chocolate in front of you. His cheeks flush pink as he takes in your new style; everytime he has seen you, you’re always in pastel colours, girly skirts and dresses. This new look suits you.

Jihoon feels slightly intimidated by the look of the man you’re facing, but is surprised when the buff man lets out the smallest airy giggle he’s ever heard. Oh dear god, it’s another Mingyu.

“How did he not get fired?” The new boy giggles between sips from his cup, your laugh echoing through the new empty cafe with the others.

“Because Eomoni is a good person, just like her son.” You wink at the boy, laughing as he rolls his eyes.

“You only say that because she was nice enough to hire you.” He huffs, jutting his bottom lip out.

“Yah, Jeon Jungkook!” An older lady over the counter scolds loudly at your table. Your smirk grows. “Don’t speak about my best worker like that!” She is waving her hand dramatically.

Jeon Jungkook. Jihoon’s eyes widened. Oh. He knew this kid. He was Mingyu’s best friend from high school. They parted for college after Jungkook left to start a tattoo apprenticeship, but the two boys always stayed in close contact. Mingyu always brought up stories of Jungkook at home, but this was the first time he’s ever seen the boy in person.

“And speak to your mother with respect!” You smack the table playfully, causing Mingyu and Seokmin to erupt with laughter.

“Ahh, this is why you’re my favourite!” Mrs Jeon grins at you, placing a cupcake in front of you as you squeal excitedly.

“Eomoni Jeon’s cupcakes are the best!” You grin happily, taking a bite of the treat while wiggling in your seat.

“Eomma, why don’t I get one?” The boy pouts sweetly, but she just smacks the back of his head lightly. He whines.

“Because you’re not nice to my honorary daughter.” She wags her finger at him before walking back behind the counter, your smirk still evident as you eat the cupcake gleefully.

“This is why you need to be nice to your elders, Jeon.” You winked, letting out a triumphant laugh.

“Watch it, Choi,” he huffs. “Remember who your dance partner is for Soonyoungie-hyung’s practice today.”

“How can I forget?” You clap back, leaning back against the wall. “Mingyu only reminded me thirteen times because of his whining.”

“It’s not fair.” He grumbles, poking at his croissant on the table. “I don’t understand why I had to be cut for Jungkookie to take over my spot.”

“Sweetie, I hate to admit it, but you have two left feet when it comes to partner work.” You smile at Jihoon’s housemate, who only groans.

“It’s not my fault I’m tall and uncoordinated!”

“That’s right.” You soothe him. “But think of it this way, you still get to film the promo video today for Soonie’s dance crew, and you’re still an amazing solo dancer.”

“Do you really think that, Y/Nie?” He pouts, as you laugh and ruffle his hair.

“I do.” You grin softly as he slowly nods.

��And think about it,” Seokmin chimes in. “You’ll be getting paid too!”

Jihoon raises his eyebrow. He knew of Soonyoung’s dance crew. It wasn’t anything special, in Sooyoung's words. It was just him and his good friends who wanted to join and have fun. He knew that Mingyu and Jun would go every second Saturday to go meet him and do some dancing, but he didn’t know you were in the crew too.

“This is true..” Mingyu nods, a little smile growing on his face.

“There’s the Gyu we know and love.” You encourage him, and Jihoon swore if Mingyu had a tail, he’d be wagging it right now. “I don’t understand why Soonie needs me for the video though.” You hum, a frown forming on your lips. “I only do this for fun. The boys group dance in my opinion is a lot better than our one too.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Seokmin raises his eyebrow.

“Isn’t what obvious?” You blink.

“He wants you to be the main feature of the video to get views.” Jungkook laughs, and your cheeks turn red.

“Don’t be stupid, Jeon!” You swat his hand.

“Oh sure,” he humors you. “He totally didn’t Bada Lee you up and get you looking like a meal to make you stand at the back.”

“Don’t you talk about my wife Bada Lee that way!” You pout, making the other three laugh. “And don’t compare her out-of-this-world looks to plain old me! That’s an insult to my queen.”

“Y/N, you don’t realize how hot you are, do you?” Jungkook leans back in his seat, eyebrow raised.

Who does this kid think he is? Jihoon scoffs. He clearly must have a thing for you. He is unsure if the grumbling in the pit of his stomach is from his hunger or something else brewing. No, Jihoon. Don’t be ridiculous.

“I’m not hot.” You roll your eyes, leaning your head back on the wall. “And you shouldn’t be talking that way.” You scold him again. “You have a soulmate now, and I’m pretty sure Namjoon-Oppa wouldn’t approve.”

“Yah, I may have a soulmate, but I can appreciate an attractive person when I see one.” He defends himself. “Even Mingyu and I had a crush on you in middle school- OW!” He yelps as Jihoon’s housemate smacks him.

“Yeah for about a week!” You frown, shaking your head. “That doesn’t count. You’re only saying that to make me feel better, and I’m flattered. Really I am, but you don’t have to lie.”

“But we’re not…”

The boys pause as they see you shrink in your seat, arms hugging around your knees. They give each other a silent look before nodding in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Bug.” Jungkook pouts as you nod your head slowly.

“Sorry,” you sigh, wincing and shaking your head at the icky feeling in your stomach. “Shouldn’t have snapped.”

Jihoon feels awful. He can feel the self-consciousness oozing through your body mixed with sadness and anxiety.

“Okay, let’s change the subject,” Jungkook offers, nudging you from across the table. “How’s the ink holding up?”

Jihoon’s ears perk up. Ink?

“It’s not too bad,” you hum, pushing your jacket down and sliding the top of your tank top over to the side to reveal a small galaxy of black ink drawn into your collarbone under the fabric. Your soulmate’s cheeks flush as he sees the new tattoo on your skin, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “A bit itchy now, but that means it’s healing, right?” You tilt your head at the tattooed boy, who only nods in response. He leans forward and runs a finger over the skin before nodding with approval.

“Yeah, it’s looking good.” He beams. “You do realize the secret will be out now once this video comes out.”

“I mean, yeah,” you shrug, letting the tank top fall back into place, a few stray stars peeking out from either side of the fabric. “But Cheol can’t do anything now. It’s literally embedded into my skin.” You laugh softly.

Jihoon never took you to be a rebel like this. He only ever heard stories of you being a well mannered goody two-shoes. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep this under wraps from him, Bug.” Seokmin speaks to you with concerned eyes.

“I mean I could be doing worse things like doing drugs.” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “But I’m getting cute tattoos instead. And I love my brother, but sometimes he’s not very observant over things like that. I have done countless things with you guys that he doesn’t even know about.”

This piques Jihoon’s interest as you nonchalantly sip from your drink, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

“Does that mean I can still hold the blackmail of your nipple piercings you got 3 years ago over your head for you to do my bidding?” Jungkook smirks.

Jihoon is about to faint. He blinks the image out of his head multiple times. He needs to get out of here before he hears anything more that he isn’t supposed to hear.

“That was when I was drunk and stupid.” You hum, looking up at Jungkook. “But I mean, you can if you want. But do keep in mind I will let Eomoni know about how on the same day, you also got a piercing on your d-”

You yelp as you feel a swat on your arm by the flustered tattooed man before bursting out into laughter with the others as Jihoon steps out of the Cafe in a rush, cheeks flushed red and stomach growling. He immediately starts to jog again, needing to get his mind off the conversations he overheard in the Cafe.

It’s well after lunch time when Jihoon hears the front door open to see Mingyu and Junhui enter the living room. Jihoon lifts his head from his spot on the couch and nods his head in greeting to them, Mingyu’s soulmate emerging from the kitchen with a smile.

“Hi darling,” Wonwoo coos as he wraps Mingyu up in a gentle embrace. “How did the shoot go?”

“Tiring.” Junhui groans, falling onto the couch beside Jihoon. He notices that he was wearing the same attire that you and Jungkook were wearing in the cafe this morning.

“Not for me!” Mingyu grins. “But, Y/Nie did want to film a TikTok dance challenge with me so I didn’t feel left out.” He beams proudly now, eyes sparkling.

“Because she is a good person.” Wonwoo hums, nodding his head sagely. “How was she and the rest of the ninety seven crew?”

“They were good!” He smiles. “We had our monthly catch up at Eomoni Jeon’s Cafe and got to see some new designs Kookie was coming up with. I might get a little one to help him out.”

“You two are too alike.” Junhui laughs, leaning his head back over the edge of the couch. “Y/N and Soonyoung were ready to smack them both by the end of the shoot.”

“That’s because Jungkook kept wanting to fiddle with the video camera.” Mingyu whined. “That’s not my fault!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Wonwoo nods sympathetically, kissing his soulmate’s cheek.

Jihoon stays silent on the couch, listening carefully to the conversation going on around him, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the new information being fed to him.

“When is the video planning to come out?” Junhui lifts his head to the tall man, tilting his head.

“Let’s see… We did three choreos, the group dance, Y/N and Jungkook’s duo and Soonyoungie-hyung’s solo, it should take a week or so to edit. So like.. maybe two weeks max?” Mingyu thinks, lips pursed in thought.

Jihoon pauses for a moment as he hears the mention of you. A duet with Jungkook? Interesting. He makes a mental note to keep an eye out to watch the video when it’s released.

“Jihoon-ah,” Wonwoo calls out, causing him to blink back into reality.

“Hmm?” He hums in response.

“Soonyoung gave me a list for us for the trip. Did you want to come to the store with me tomorrow to go get everything so we only have to do one big shopping trip?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Jihoon nods. “What do we need to get?”

“Just stuff for the tents, really.” Wonwoo thinks. “Some sleeping bags, heat packs, blankets, towels for the beach…”

“Mhm, we’ll get it all sorted.”

Jihoon honestly doesn’t know how he is going to go during the trip. The fact he is bringing his not-soulmate around his actual soulmate for a prolonged amount of time almost feels cruel and borderline sadistic for him to flaunt his girlfriend around you. You have been feeling fine lately. Jihoon doesn’t feel much sad emotions from you lately, and he wonders if his hope is misinterpreted as you being able to hide the pain better.

Later that night, Jihoon finds himself once again absentmindedly scrolling through his instagram app and landing onto your profile. The first post he sees is a new Reel posted an hour ago by you. You caption the video in dedication to Bada Lee, with a short explanation about how you didn’t do the dance justice. He chuckles at the sight of the first comment on said post; your older brother simply asking “WTF IS THAT ON YOUR SHOULDER?!”

In the video, you’re standing beside Mingyu and doing the new trending Smoke dance, your newly discovered tattoo peeking from under your tank top, taunting Jihoon. His eyes are wide as he watches you and Mingyu (mostly you) execute the dance perfectly, impressed with how well you both hit the signature ‘smoke you up’ dance move. At the end of the clip, you both get cut off as Soonyoung struts his way into frame, pretending to blow out the fake smoke coming from your Thumb-Lighter, causing the three of you to erupt in laughter before the screen fades to black. Jihoon’s reflection stares back at him, smiling. Once he realizes, he forces his face to turn back into a scowl. He can’t be smiling about another girl while he still has Ji-ah.

When he views your Story next, his cheeks begin to flush like it has done too many times today. You’ve shared a post from Soonyoung’s crew’s profile, a video filmed from the side of the dance studio of you and Jungkook. You’re both placed in the middle of the room, Vanilla by Kai playing on the speakers. The clip is only for 20 seconds, but Jihoon studies it thoroughly. He watches as your hands reach around from behind Jungkook and skim down his front, followed directly by Jungkook using his right arm to control how your body rolls in time to the beat and his direction. What sticks out the most to your soulmate, though, is the way Jungkook’s arm reaches over you, and in turn your head follows his arm movement, a sly smirk on your face as you turn your whole body to face him and maintain eye contact.

In Jihoon’s opinion, Jungkook looks like he’s about to pounce on you, and you don’t look too far off from returning the sentiment. He feels a pit forming in his stomach once more. His intrusive thoughts are cut short when the chorus of dancers in the room all scream excitedly at the chemistry between you and Mingyu’s best friend, causing the both of you to break character and start laughing. Jungkook puckers his lips playfully, causing you to roll your eyes and push Jungkook towards the cameraman, Mingyu with a smile and a shake of your head.

Jesus Christ, Jihoon. He thinks to himself. You really need to get your shit together. You can’t get jealous over a girl you don’t even want.

This is bullshit. Jihoon doesn’t actually like you. This is some stupid soulmate related shit. He read up about feeling closer connections because of the soulmate bond; that has to be it. His mind is just playing tricks on him.

With a sigh, Jihoon locks his phone screen and places it face down on his bedside table, rolling over and pulling the blankets up to his chin. He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to try and get some sleep and get the lingering thoughts about you out of his head.

“Do you think we should do the presentation as an essay or a slideshow debate style?”

It has been a week since Jihoon has last seen you, and if he’s honest, he’s been avoiding any place where you have been frequenting when he could. So far, he’s denied a morning coffee date with Ji-ah, a gaming night at your place with Soonyoung, and purposely showed up early to Film Studies class to sit at a random desk, leaving you to sit alone at the front. He’s decided enough is enough, he needs to keep this relationship strictly professional if he wants to maintain his relationship with Ji-ah. It’s now Friday afternoon, the only time where Jihoon absolutely has to be in your presence in order to get this project rolling.

“Hmm?” Jihoon blinks, looking up from his laptop, eyebrows raised. “Uhh.. you can pick.”

“Okay.” You hum quietly, looking back at your own laptop, continuing to work in silence.

Jihoon can feel the worry in your stomach, but he ignores it. He can be professional and cordial with you and not get feelings involved. He can’t, he won’t.

“What points have you made so far, so I can add them to my list to rebut?” Another bout of silence runs through both of you, and you notice that either your soulmate didn’t hear you, or is choosing to ignore you. “Jihoon-ssi?”

“Sorry?” He keeps typing, not lifting his head.

“Have I done something wrong?” You ask, closing your computer screen.

“What?” Jihoon stops now, looking up at you. “Why would you think that?”

“Because last week we were actually…” you pause, looking everywhere but at Jihoon. “I don’t know, at least getting along despite everything happening. And now, you’re acting like it’s a chore to be around me.”

Jihoon is floored for a moment. You’re a bit too observant for your own good. He opens his mouth to speak, but you keep going.

“And look, I get it. I’m the last person you would want to be around. I’m already jeopardizing everything you have with your girlfriend and everything else in this stupid situation, but I thought we were okay.” Your knee is shaking under the table, staring at the chipped wood instead of looking up at his face. “I know I’m already insufferable and you would prefer to be anywhere else but here. You know what…” you shake your head now, taking your laptop. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have put you in this crappy situation. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to think that we could be civil with each other. I will go see Professor Kim and tell him that we can’t work together and you can find someone else and I’ll just finish this project on my ow-”

Your soulmate cuts off your babbling by grabbing your wrist before you can stand up completely. His grip is firm but gentle as you fall silent, blinking the unshed tears from your eyes as you finally look at him.

This is the first time you have had skin to skin contact with your soulmate since that fateful day in the rain. You involuntarily shiver as you feel a zap run up the back of your spine, and your soulmate shivers in unison.

Jihoon is almost distraught at the sight of your heartbroken face up close. He, again, blames this stupid soulmate bond.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, keeping his hold on your wrist. “I am just going through some shit. It’s not you, I promise Y/N.” His gaze is intense as he looks into your eyes, your cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry if it made you think I was mad at you or something, I’m just in my own head right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown.

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. Just exist.”

“That’s the point.” You whisper now. “I exist. I am a wedge in the way of so many people right now. I know Cheol and Hannie want to plan on getting married soon but I still live in that house. Seokmin and Soonyoung only invite me to things because they feel sorry for me, and I feel bad even being in the same room with you knowing you love someone else.” Jihoon feels another crack hit your heart. “I just exist and am an issue for so many people. I’m more than happy to do this project alone, Jihoon-ssi.” You move to take your wrist out of his grip, but he just holds on tighter.

“I can’t speak for the others, but if I had an issue with you being my partner for this project, I would have gone to Professor Kim myself. I’m fine to do this project with you, Y/N, and I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise. Please, can you sit?”

You pause, watching your soulmate nervously before taking a long breath, slowly nodding and slipping back into your chair.

“I’m sorry for my outburst.” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes. “I get too far into my negative thoughts and…”

“It’s okay, I get it. And again, I can’t speak for the others, but from what I hear from Soonyoung, he and Seokmin are more than happy to have you around, if that makes you feel any better.”

You only nod silently, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Here, these are my notes.” He pushes his computer towards you, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

Jihoon may want to be civil and professional, but he’d be damned if he made a girl cry, no matter who it is.

“Have we got everything?”

Jihoon grumbles a tired ‘yes’ to Wonwoo, alongside Mingyu, Chan and Ji-ah as they carry their camping packs towards your house around the corner.

It has been two weeks since your supposed outburst in front of Jihoon. Since then, you have been quite reluctant and withdrawn when you have to speak with him, but to him, it’s expected. He chooses to just go with the flow when it comes to you, and let his instincts guide him, which seemingly has been going okay so far.

The sun is barely beginning to rise in the sky, Soonyoung lecturing all attendees for ‘Choi Seungcheol’s Birthday Bash’ to be at your house bright and early at 6:30am to be on the road by 7:00 for the four hour drive.

“The sun is barely up, I don’t know why I have to be.” Jihoon hears a groan from Seokmin as they see a large bus parked on the curb.

“Because you love hyung, and you want to be ready to have a fun trip with the people you love.” A tired, monotone voice coming from Jeonghan responds. There are three sleepy bodies standing outside, putting the camping gear in the luggage compartment underneath the bus. The three said bodies are Seokmin, Jeonghan and a chirpy Soonyoung, who happily waves when he sees his best friend show up.

“You made it!” He cheers happily.

“Mm.” Jihoon mumbles as he places his bags in the luggage area, Ji-ah leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Soonyoung,” she smiles. “Thank you for inviting me along!”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” He waves his hand happily with a smile. “Really, the more the merrier! Go hop on and find a seat, we’re just about to take off.”

Jihoon is the last person of his housemates to step onto the bus as he eyes the seats. As he expected, the usual pairs of soulmates are together. Mingyu is with Wonwoo, just behind a sleepy Seungkwan and Hansol. Ji-ah takes a seat across from Mingyu and Wonwoo, Jihoon slipping in easily beside her. He eyes the next row of seats towards the front of the bus as he sees Chan sitting alone, Seokmin and Soonyoung taking place across from him. His eyes widen as he sees his last roommate, Junhui, step onto the bus with a tall man behind him, cheeks pink as they walk hand in hand. Said tall man adjusts his glasses with his free hand, his long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Oh, that’s why he hasn’t been home lately.” Wonwoo grins, eyebrows wiggling.

“Minghao is his soulmate?!” Mingyu grins excitedly. “Oh my gosh, wait until Y/N sees.”

At the mention of your name, you step onto the bus with Kkuma in your arms, eyes scanning the seats. Jihoon takes in the floral yellow dress you’re wearing with your hair pulled back into two braids tied with a yellow ribbon, cheeks tinting pink.

When you make eye contact with Mingyu, you mouth ‘MINGHAO?!’ with exaggerated wide eyes, which only garners a giggle and aggressive nod from Mingyu. You shoot him an impressed look which makes him laugh again, before taking a single seat diagonally across from Jihoon and Ji-ah alone, placing Kkuma on the empty seat beside you.

Seokmin and Soonyoung take their seats in front of you, before Jeonghan steps on with the birthday boy in tow.

“Okay everyone, are we ready to go?” Jeonghan calls out, smiling as everyone nods or mumbles a yes. “Then we are right on schedule!”

“Birthday bash!” Soonyoung starts to chant. “Birthday bash! Birthday bash!”

You start to giggle as the others start chanting, Seungcheol shaking his head with a fond grin, taking place in the front passenger seat as Jeonghan takes the driver’s seat.

Dear God, Jihoon thinks as Soonyoung cheers loudly, causing Chan to burst into giggles. This is going to be a long four hours.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies taglist

@cinnamoroxie @enhacolor @mikachu-chu @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo @ametheyistheart @friendlywraith @kawennote09 @coupddeongie @sunooschubbycheeks @zgzgzh @mar-627 @side-angel @kuleo26 @deltamoon666 @snowgirlfallen @lixiel0ver @phenomenalgirl9 @weebotakuboy @sumzysworld @vixensss @seokmatchu @etaerealboy @milopenne @jinyoungie0922 @chickenscoups @zadkielr @coveyland @sapphirehearthstone @sweetchelly @devinkelsey19

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites​ that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg. 

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

- 

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife. 

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington. 

A Harrington. 

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath. 

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet. 

And it’s not that. 

Not really. 

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to. 

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over. 

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.  

“Are you okay?” 

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal. 

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen. 

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless. 

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?” 

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes. 

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush. 

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest. 

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.” 

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers. 

“Steve.” 

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort. 

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins. 

-

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials. 

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington. 

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions. 

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together. 

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’ 

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you. 

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.  

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two. 

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him. 

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding. 

Agreements, plans, business deals.  

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband. 

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer. 

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit. 

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners. 

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know? 

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him. 

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.” 

“The Harringtons.” 

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow. 

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds. 

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve. 

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner. 

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks. 

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap. 

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt. 

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own. 

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands. 

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

-

Seventeen hours. 

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days. 

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island. 

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water. 

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you. 

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?” 

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom. 

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly. 

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room. 

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly. 

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?” 

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.  

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed. 

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones. 

“Pillow. Wall.” 

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail. 

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright. 

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette. 

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with. 

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm. 

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep. 

-

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose. 

Steve’s been working for hours now. 

Since you both woke up, really. 

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence. 

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest. 

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book. 

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated. 

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?” 

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue. 

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way. 

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages. 

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.  

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?” 

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.” 

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays. 

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned. 

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders. 

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him. 

-

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding. 

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know. 

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was. 

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of. 

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin. 

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.” 

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view. 

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale. 

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!” 

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?” 

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” 

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.” 

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes. 

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore. 

Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

It’s easier this way. 

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter. 

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown. 

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna. 

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface. 

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound. 

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law. 

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

-

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known. 

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder. 

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far. 

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly. 

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…” 

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach. 

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now. 

He knows it’s not coincidental. 

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it? 

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you. 

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him. 

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal. 

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest. 

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands. 

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts. 

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there. 

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his. 

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist. 

Because you’re his wife, yes. 

Technically. 

On paper, at least. 

But that’s all it can be. 

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date. 

Three years. 

Three years and then you’ll be gone. 

Lost to him, like so many others. 

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way. 

-

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close. 

Held close. 

Held close. 

Held— 

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in. 

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering. 

You don’t have time for any of those things. 

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you. 

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom. 

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace. 

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder. 

Whimpers. 

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips. 

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.” 

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable. 

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall. 

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room. 

You don’t want to think about it. 

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No! 

Absolutely not! Not going there. 

NOPE. 

-

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain. 

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows. 

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up. 

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already. 

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing. 

Zero. 

Zilch. 

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast. 

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home. 

That’s right. 

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home. 

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward. 

Stilted. 

Uncomfortable. 

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other. 

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy. 

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal. 

The arrangement. 

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose. 

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

-

-

[alevicke]

This is such a weird request but here it is!!

The reader has either disappeared or has been withdrawn for a whirl and nothing that the cast (I.E. Caine, Kinger, Gangle, Zooble, Ragatha, Jan and Pomni) could get them out. Them and the reader being in a romantic relationship also reaction to the reader coming out after what was a while, tired and injured with a baby that had their features.

So basically the reader somehow got pregnant and refuses to let anyone know about the baby in fear they’ll be treated differently or have it taken away or the cast just outright denying responsibility or refusing to take care of the baby.

Sorry for such a long and weird and confusing message, don’t force yourself to do if you don’t want to!!!

Ah this is going to be hard to write! Mostly because it’s going to be all angst to be honest. I doubt anyone would be happy about their partner suddenly going missing and hiding something so important! Due to my roleplay with a friend I’ve thought about similar things every now and then tho so I have some ideas (Parentship is something I love to think and roleplay because everyone is so different in all stages of it <3) 

I feel like Jax, if he has a relationship, loves the person a lot and goes through the pregnancy with his partner would be hella sweet. Still having the urge to run away, but so different from the request. Might write my headcanons of Jax someday...? And Ragatha and Caine would look so adorable... Everyone would be to be honest ;; I need fluff after this angst help

TADC X READER WHO RAN AWAY AND SUDDENLY APPEARS WITH THEIR BABY

Characters: Caine, Ragatha and Jax

TW: ANGST!!! There is no sweetness nor fluff here ;; Pregnancy mentioned. Huh, having problems to accept the child? Also no beta read, I think that's the word. Sorry I'm Spanish and have no one who can proof read my writings ;;

I’m awful writing TWs so PLEASE, if someone knows if I should write something else let me know! MY MASTERLIST 

Caine:

This guy is not pleased when you first disappear. The first few hours he thinks you just need some alone time or perhaps you just don’t feel like being with absolutely anyone so he doesn’t try looking for you too much

But as time and the day passes and you don’t appear he starts to worry a bit more. His vigilant eyes haven’t seen you around either so he starts questioning the others receiving nothing but shrugs. No one knew where you were and some didn’t even care too much (mostly Jax and Zooble who were just annoyed by Caine continuously asking

As days passed Caine passed from worry to complete stress and panic as he kept looking absolutely everywhere for you, even the cellar with abstracted old characters! But you were nowhere to be found. Adventures were now a past thing as Caine passed his days looking for you

But as months passed, he truly came to the conclusion that you, somehow, escaped. It was way more hurtful to think that you, as lover, left him behind. That despite your whole relationship, you decided to escape

And it took him quite a lot of time to try to cheer himself up. Most of the crew realized that he was faking his enthusiasm and happiness

That was until you appeared back again with someone in your arms though…

Caine ran into your arms as soon as he saw you, he was FRENETIC! YOU WERE BACK!!

“God I missed you so much!!! I thought you escaped! Where have you been? Are you safe? Are you ok? I swear to god I looked EVERYWHERE! Believe me, my eyes have seen things that should have never seen looking for you!!!!” You tried to calm him down while slowly showing what was in your arms covered in a soft blanket. A baby, extremely similar to Caine…

His jaw dropped, literally. But he quickly picked it up. It was obvious he was the father… But he truly didn’t think that was possible. He didn’t look so much into the code to know all the possibilities but now looking back perhaps he should have taken a peek at those keeping in mind it was his job.

He didn’t even know how to reply. For one moment, he stretched his arm to the baby to touch it but he didn’t dare to do it. He had so many emotions at the same time. Was he even human? AI? An NPC? No, they couldn’t be an NPC, he had no control nor knew about them until now… 

You try to explain your reasons to disappear but to be honest he seems to not be listening to you most of the time, he is way more focused on the baby. He couldn’t believe he created it despite him creating a whole digital world. That baby was different.

The next few days were a bit hard with Caine. He accepted the baby and was with them the whole time in arms, but when it came to your relationship he felt quite hurt. He had problems trusting you but he was open to fixing everything and retrying the relationship. After all, he still loved you. But the fear of you going missing again was really big

Ragatha

Much like Caine, at first, she thought you needed time or space. It took her even longer to start looking for you because she really likes respecting space and has no problem if you have other things to do or other people to be with. She can be on her own and not bother you. She’s not nearly as clingy as Caine is. 

But night came and you didn’t appear. It was weird, you usually sleep together…

She tried looking for you in your room. But you weren’t there either… That honestly started to worry her but she tried to think that perhaps you were out having fun in the amusement park or the lake and just were gonna come late or something. There was no way of communicating after all, no phone to sell a message or call so she had to trust you’d eventually come back

But the next day your side in her bed was empty. And your bed was also empty, cold… You didn’t appear all night. What’s worse, no one even saw you.

She spent the day looking for you desperately, asking for help as well to Caine, Gangle and Kinger. As her desperation grew, she asked for help to Zooble and lastly to Jax. Not even Jax dared to say anything against helping, taking in mind the situation seemed important or even critical.

But days passed and neither Ragatha nor anyone else saw you. Not even Caine could find you with her eyes which being honest was annoying for him. He liked to keep control of everything and everyone there but you escaped his sights and were no one to be found!

Ragatha’s desperation grew into sadness thinking you abandoned her there alone on her own. Some were even afraid she could abstract hearing her cry despite how badly she tried to hide it. The always smiley and outgoing doll was now always in her room wanting to be left alone. 

As months happened she started to smile again. Sure, she was sad sometimes, but she tried to accept that you left. Much like Caine she thought you found an exit to that hell and she didn’t want to guilt you for that. But she wished you took her with you.

Until you appeared again. 

Just like Caine she ran into your arms, but she stopped just inches before seeing you were hugging something so carefully that you didn’t hug her as fast as she wanted to.

You moved the fabric away to show a small baby with yarn looking like hair in a reddish tone. The baby cuddled into the blanket looking for its warm while Ragatha was looking at them, eye wide open. She didn’t have to be a genius to know she was the mother… Still, she felt insecure “Is… Is that… Are they…? We…? Had a baby…?” She had problems saying the words. But you nodded answering all her questions at the same time “He’s… Our baby Ragatha… I just didn’t know how to tell you and I was so scared… I thought running away was my best option. I was so scared you wouldn’t accept this…” You said trying to get close to her. But Ragatha stepped back

She was insecure, worried and hurt “I spent months looking for you… I thought you ran away, that you found an exit and left me completely alone… And you took away my baby knowing that I had such a motherly instinct and wished I could be a mother… I want to see our kid. But I need time about us. To think about what's going to happen…”

Next days, Ragatha showed up a lot to meet the baby. She was so happy about having one! She never thought it could be possible but she was a mother! 

But things between you both weren’t the same. Ragatha didn’t feel ok being with you anymore. She didn’t trust you and couldn’t help but hold a grudge against you for doing something like that.

She didn’t want to admit it but you running away and making her miss the whole pregnancy and childbirth was extremely painful. You took away the first moments with her baby. And that was not something she could easily forgive

Getting her affection back was going to be hard. 

Jax

Quick Author Note. Hold yourself, this guy ain’t ready for this. A complete stab in his trust. And he's the kind of guy to hold a grudge…

Just like the others he doesn’t pay too much attention when you don’t appear for a few hours. But damn, after the whole day without news from you he’s starting to get kinda upset. Not with you, just that he wants attention and wants it NOW. 

He loves being your center of attention and you being gone for so long was annoying for him 

But day passes, night passes and you still don’t appear. He tries to act cool and make it seem like he’s completely ok with it. But he is internally panicking a bit. He’s looking for you anywhere and even tries asking for the others “casually” to see where you are but no one knows anything. 

He looked for you at the amusement park, at the lake, in every single room in existence in the tent, he even had keys of the locked doors. BUT NOTHING. You were just… Gone?

And he was so confused…

He truly thought you abstracted and for some reason Caine didn’t want to tell him. He had so much trust in you he didn’t want to believe you would escape that place without him. He was an asshole after all and you accepted him, why would you do that now? 

So since then, he stopped trusting Caine. He didn’t want to believe his words no matter how much Caine said he didn’t put you with the other abstracted characters. He spent months like this hiding sadness in his room. He was way too proud to show his weakness after you left him there. He thought you were gone for real…

That’s why the moment you showed up there took him so by surprise that he didn’t know how to react. He didn’t want to believe his eyes. You were back? But… He thought you abstracted. 

He approached you, slow at first. Then quickened the pace until being in front of you. But he didn’t expect to find you holding something so close to you

You open the blanket showing a light purple bunny much like him. No smile on the baby, but being fair, there was no smile on Jax either. The cocky smile was completely gone. Lost. His mind was nothing but a blurry mess of collapsing thoughts and words. He didn’t know what to think…

“Jax… I just… I didn’t know how to tell you… I thought you would get mad and not accept them… I was so scared…” you truly meant it. But something inside Jax broke as he realized what happened

“You… Ran away because you got pregnant?” he asked, receiving a slow scary nod from you.

You tried to explain yourself while he stood quiet, but he had enough. He stepped back “No? You just- You just don’t *bleep* do that?! I thought YOU ABSTRACTED?! But you were just running away from me because you didn’t trust me to have a baby together!” Jax finally bursted in anger. He never raised a hand, of course, but he sure was pissed by the situation

“Jax, listen, it’s not that I didn’t trust you, it’s just-”

“NO. I had enough. I don’t want to hear anything from you nor the baby. As far as I’m concerned, you lied to me. That could pretty much be an NPC to regain me after being doing whatever knows what during months. You have *bleep* lost me” With that, Jax turned away from you, leaving you behind with a crying baby after the storm.

With the incoming days, Jax left it clear, he didn’t want to know about you anymore. The relationship was over with no way of fixing it. You destroyed his trust.

And every time he saw the baby he had a huge urge to run away. He wasn’t there during pregnancy, he wasn’t expecting this. The baby just came out of nowhere and he sure wasn’t having it easy to accept it. He never asked to be a father. He didn’t even have a relationship to share this experience with anymore. Just a broken heart and a crying creature. He didn’t want to be involved in any of it

It took months for Jax to finally approach the baby at all. Seeing the baby reminded him of the betrayal he felt you made him. So he didn’t want to be with them at all

It probably takes more than a year or even years for Jax to accept the kid and be their father. But the relationship, as he said, was over. 

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos Halloween Special 2024

Spock x Empath! Reader

Halloween Special

            “A test of courage?” said Spock, raising a brow. “I hardly think that necessary after our countless missions.”

            “Whatever they try to do to scare us, I’m pretty sure we’ve been through worse,” chuckled (Y/N).

            “Yeah, but he’s a young captain, he’s cocky, and he’s challenging me to prove myself,” said Kirk, waving a hand. “We might as well teach him a lesson about underestimating people.”

            “I think he’s an upstart,” said Uhura. She grinned. “We should scare his crew while they try to scare us.”

            “I approve. Very Russian,” said Chekhov.

            “I think this whole thing is gonna be tiring,” said Bones. “At my age, I don’t need to get scared.”

            “I think it could be fun,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Spock raised a brow. “T’hy’la?”

            “Think of it as a training exercise, dear,” said (Y/N). “Facing fear and learning not to underestimate your opponents.”

            “So, when is this ‘challenge’ happening?” asked Chekov curiously.

            “Tomorrow,” said Kirk. “The captain saw me at the refuel station today and got eager about proving himself.”

            “And we’re definitely going to his ship, aren’t we?” sighed Bones.

            “In costume. You know, to get in the Halloween spirit,” said Kirk.

            “Ah, that human celebration,” said Spock.

            “Having a holiday surrounding fear is quite odd,” said (Y/N).

            “But fun,” said Uhura with a smile.

            Spock and (Y/N) cast each other doubtful looks.

l

            “We’re about to enter our haunted house—haunted ship,” said Kirk. He looked quite excited. He was dressed as Elton John, a very, very old human musician, complete with a crazy getup.

            “I’ve got the ‘sparklers’ ready,” said Uhura. “Scotty prepared them for me.” In her neon getup, she was a seventies barbie with the dramatic hair and earrings to match.

            “I’ve got smoke bombs,” said Chekov cheerfully. “I wanted Molotov cocktails, but Uhura talked me down.” He was a ballerino from a Russian dance.

            “Sparklers with smoke will be dramatic enough,” said Uhura.

            “And give us a chance to scare the youngsters properly,” said Bones. He had been hesitant to join in, but he was wearing an old, earth-style doctor uniform.

            “I still fail to understand the necessity of all of this,” said Spock.

            “Me, too, but I’ll let everyone know when someone’s coming.” Their empathic auras couldn’t hide from (Y/N).

            Spock and (Y/N) stood side-by-side in black. Spock had on a sleek black suit, and (Y/N) wore a lovely black dress. According to Kirk and Uhura, who had dressed them, they were Mr. and Mrs. Smith from an old Earth movie.

            “Then let’s go,” said Kirk, grinning as they stepped onto the new ship.

            The lights had been dimmed, and various pieces of equipment, fake, were sparking. It was trepidatious to continue walking inward, but the group did.

            “(L/N)?” said Kirk.

            “Around the corner,” whispered (Y/N).

            “Uhura, Chekov?” said Kirk.

            “Ready,” said Uhura, grinning.

            Chekov excitedly lifted his smoke bombs.

            “Who’s going to lead?” said Bones. “With my heart—”

            “Bones, you’re still relatively,” said (Y/N), amused.

            “Still,” said Bones.

            “I’ll go,” said Spock. He was hardly going to be startled now due to (Y/N)’s warning, so he could let the other ship spring their trap.

            “Have fun, dear,” said (Y/N).

            Spock nodded, walked in front of the group, and rounded the corner.

            “Ha!” Several people jumped out of nowhere, but Spock was no perturbed.

            He looked at their phasers and raised a brow. “Holding a weapon against a fellow officer is prohibited.”

            The group faltered.

            “But smoke bombs are just good fun,” said Chekov, jumping out from behind Spock.

            The other crew let out a surprised cry, and Chekov smashed the bombs on the floor. In an instant, smoke covered the hallway, and the crew coughed. Chekov grinned madly.

            Bang! Bang!

            The other crew yelped and ran as they heard what sounded like explosions. And, from the smoke behind them, Uhura emerged like a pink-clad demon.

            “Run for your lives!” she said, the sparklers going off in her hand. Chekov whooped and ran with her. Kirk laughed and gave chase.

            “I always thought Jim was a rule-follower,” said Bones. “I mean, until becoming a captain.”

            “He was a bookworm at the academy,” said (Y/N). “Perhaps he missed out on mischief.”

            “That would explain a lot,” said Bones. He grinned. “Might as well join him in it.” And, “age” notwithstanding, he ran down the hall.

            “We should make sure they don’t go too far,” said (Y/N).

            “Captain Kirk has a sense of responsibility,” said Spock. “It is the others that are far too entertained.”

            “But isn’t that the fun of them?” said (Y/N), smiling fondly.

            Spock paused. “I suppose.”

  ��         (Y/N) chuckled and touched their fingers to his. “Come on, dear. Let’s go keep an eye on our friends.”

            “Lead the way, T’hy’la,” said Spock. He would follow wherever they went.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

@kyalov

@starlit-cass

@rookietrek

@gingertimelord

@snowy-violet

@jaguarthecat

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 28]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

It was stuffy and you wanted to leave. Well, you could say youu expected it. All these events were about image and connections. Seonghwa's older brother had broken away from the group the moment you entered. Okay, to be fair, it wasn't by choice, he was dragged away by one of the Park's business acquaintances.

"Here." Seonghwa handed you a champagne flute. You needed some liquid confidence before your own father and stepmother had to whisk you away.

"I want to get out of here." You mumbled lowly to him.

"Sweetheart, it's only been 10 minutes." Seonghwa chuckled. But he knew what you meant, he wanted to get out of there too.

"That's 10 minutes too long. I don't belong here, Hwa." You sighed, taking a sip of your champagne, shooting someone a fake smile as they walked past you. You had no idea who they were.

But it didn't matter. That's what you have been taught growing up. Even if you didn't know the person, they knew you so you have to be friendly to them.

"Ah, there you are, (y/n)." Your father came over with a fake smile planted on his face. You smiled in return, letting him wrap an arm around you to greet you. His eyes cast over to Seonghwa, who bowed respectfully to your father.

"Thank you for accompanying her here, Seonghwa. And always taking care of her." He said to your best friend, as if you weren't there.

"It is no problem at all, Mr (y/l/n). We take care of each other." Seonghwa smiled. With that, your father led you away. You cast Seonghwa a look and he gave you a subtle nod.

"Were you late?" Your father asked softly.

"Of course not, appa. I would know better than to be." You replied, trying not to scoff at the end of your sentence.

"Good." He hummed and brought you over to where your stepmother was engaged in a conversation with another couple. It was showtime, you needed your game face.

"Ah, there she is. Come, sweetie." Your stepmother beckoned you over like a dog.

"Good evening." You smiled with a polite bow of your head as you approached them. You really wanted to call her 'mom' to play into the facade but there was still a boundary that you could not cross. There was only one person you would call your mother and it wasn't this woman in front of you.

"This is Judge Kim Soohyuk and his wife." She introduced. Seeing how he had this almost arrogant smile on his face, you knew he was regarded as someone important.

"Nice to meet you, judge Kim and Mrs Kim. It's an honour." You shook hands with them.

"What a beautiful young lady." Judge Kim chuckled and his wife giggled, nodding in agreement.

After speaking to your father's colleagues and your stepmother's connections, you excused yourself for a drink and moved through the crowd to find Seonghwa.

"(y/n)?" A familiar, soft voice called out to you. You turned around and you immediately relaxed, seeing who it was.

"Mr and Mrs Jeong. I'm so glad to see you! What are you doing here?" You said, letting Mrs Jeong hug you. She let out a soft squeal as she wrapped her arms around you, as if she was seeing her own child. You sent Mr Jeong a smile.

"Mr boss is one of the donors on the board. So he got extra invites to attend. Yunho's running the restaurant so he couldn't make it and Gunho's at his internship." Mr Jeong explained.

"I should be at the restaurant too but I couldn't leave my parents." You said.

"I know." Mrs Jeong smiled, showing you she understood everything without you needing to explain any further.

"We didn't know you were Mr (y/l/n)'s daughter." She said softly and held your hands, rubbing the back of them with her thumbs, as if to silently comfort you.

"Yeah... I haven't told Yunho and..." You chewed your lip.

"Don't worry. So you and Yunho? You're a thing now? Or becoming a thing? I swear, my son doesn't tell me anything." She chuckled.

"We've been a few dates, taking it slow. He wanted to accompany me tonight but I knew he was needed at the restaurant, especially when Friday nights are our busiest." You giggled. You didn't even know when mr jeong disappeared but when he came back, he had a plate full of finger food.

"Honey! Isn't that a bit much?" Mrs Jeong laughed, seeing how much food he had.

"These small little sliders never fill you up. You need at least 5." Mr Jeong clicked his tongue in annoyance. Seonghwa, who was also finally free of his parents, came to meet you.

"I can see where Yunho gets his big appetite from then. He's just like you, Mr Jeong." You laughed.

"Mr and Mrs Jeong." Seonghwa greeted as he came to your side.

"Seonghwa, right? One of the sous chefs." Mr Jeong asked. Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and bowed respectfully, shaking hands with them.

"Let's take a picture, I'll send it over to Yunho and make him jealous." Mrs Jeong suggested. You nodded and leaned in with Seonghwa to take a picture with them. Only a few minutes after she hit send, her phone started ringing. She handed her phone to you to answer.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING THERE WITH (Y/N)?!"

"Good evening to you too, Yunho. How am I? I'm okay, thanks for asking. I hope the restaurant is doing fine." You said, almost rolling your eyes at his dramatic ass.

"Oh, (y/n)! It's you. Sorry for yelling. Hi, (y/n). You look amazing, by the way. But seriously, why are my parents there?"

"If you must know, Jeong Yunho. Appa's boss is one of the big donors for the night so they gave him more slots to have guests." Mrs Jeong took her phone back.

"Hi... omma..."

"(y/n)." Your father called you. You nodded and bowed to Yunho's parents quickly before walking over with Seonghwa following suit.

"You see?" Mrs Jeong changed the call to a video call to let Yunho see you. You were so... docile. It was like Yunho was looking at a different person, he had never seen you like that before.

"She's beautiful."

"She is." Mrs Jeong nodded in agreement. You were wearing an off shoulder dress, starting from dark, midnight blue with a cascading gradient down the dress, ending with white at the end of the skirt. There were even gems dispersed sparsely around the dress, looking like stars in a night sky.

Yunho felt like all attention should be on you. Yet, you remained meek and submissive, obediently standing by your father's side with a fake smile as you spoke business with his acquaintences.

"Your brother is studying overseas, right? How capable. What is it you do again?" One of the ladies asked, almost with disdain.

"Culinary." You replied.

"Oh... So you... cook... for other people..." She raised a judgemental eyebrow. But you were used to it, so you were unphased, nodding at her question.

"It's only temporary. You know young people and their fickleness. Just until she's ready to take over for me." Your father lied.

"That's good. A lot more promising career choice." The lady finally smiled at your father.

"I remember how much potential you had with your law and accounting skills. It would be a shame to throw it all away, you know? Especially when someone of your father's calibre basically handing you all his skills and contacts." She flirted with your dad.

Luckily, your stepmother was not around to see it. Or maybe unlucky, she might see it and leave him. You knew this lady would take the chance to be your father's partner. Any of these ladies would.

"(y/n)." A familiar voice called.

"Uncle Junghyun. It's great to see you again." You smiled and bowed your head but the male hugged you instead.

"Junghyun, I didn't think you could make it." Your father hugged the male. Junghyun worked alongside your father, they've known each other since they were kids so you always saw him around growing up.

"Caught a last minute flight." He chuckled.

"So, how have you been? Still cooking up a storm?" He asked you with a fatherly smile.

"I'm doing good, uncle. Still adventuring through all the kitchens that come my way." You laughed. Despite being like your father in every way, he had always been supportive of your culinary journey.

"You'll have to fill me in when we have the time." He smiled. You nodded your head.

"It's a promise." You said, just like you always did as a kid. Noticing your father had moved on, you quickly made your way to him, bowing apology for lagging behind. Before coming to these events, you father would always send you a list of people you'll meet and their projects for you to read up on.

"My stepbrother and I were discussing your recent surgery with the myofiber cell sheets to repair brain tissue. We usually hear it being used for heart muscles but the brain is impressive." You lied.

"Oh, you know my work?" The older man didn't even bother to hide how shocked, yet impressed, he was.

"Of course. You're the first doctor in South Korea to successfully harvest stem cells and grow the cell sheets." You added.

"Wow, thank you. I've been wanting to try skeletal fiber sheets. It will be beneficial to have it here in South Korean hospitals for bone healing." He said.

"Of course, were you thinking of including osteoblasts (cells used in new bone formation) into the mix?"

"I do. You sure know your medical knowledge." He said, looking at your father.

"My brother is the one with all the medical knowledge. I mainly read and learn all these." You smiled. Smiling up at your father, he nodded in agreement, shooting you a proud smile. You were trained well by him, you knew how to act.

Although you've not seen your stepbrother is years, thankfully, you had to speak highly of him. That was your role, to shine the spotlight on him and his surgeon career.

"Finally, we get to see you, dear." A lady greeted you as your father finally let you go.

"Omonim, abonim. It's great to see you. I've missed you both." You grinned and hugged Seonghwa's parents.

"Aigoo, you've become so much thinner. Is Seonghwa not feeding you, my daughter?" Mrs Park frowned. She always looked after you like her own daughter.

"I am." Seonghwa came just in time to defend himself.

"All you do is eat her food like always." Mr Park rolled his eyes, making you laugh. Mr Park was just as whipped for you as Mrs Park was. You were the daughter they never had and they liked to spoil you.

"Please, I make sure she eats. Not my fault she breathes coffee like it's air." Seonghwa exposed.

"Hwa!" You hissed.

"(y/n)... I told you too much coffee is bad for you. Do you want me to ban you?" Mrs Park scolded. You pouted and shook your head while Seonghwa snickered.

"Stop him. You see? He's always mean to me." Two can play at that game. Now it was your turn to throw Seonghwa under the bus. Seonghwa's eyes widened as his parents came down on his with scoldings and lectures on how he should be taking care of you and treating you like a princess.

"I hate you so much." Seonghwa said through gritted teeth and a tight smile.

"Aww, I love you too, Hwa hwa." You smiled innocently.

"You two are always arguing one minute and inseparable the next." Mr Park chuckled, shaking his head at the both of you. That's true, that was your dynamic.

"Anyway, Seonghwa's been telling us about the new place you both are working at and how interesting it is." Mrs Park said.

"Yeah, it's definitely different from the other places we have been before. And it's a new place with just the 4 of us as the kitchen crew. So we're learning as we go. But it has been fun to say the least."

"That's good, that's good. You've always worked in high end restaurants, maybe it's good to change things up." Mr Park smiled.

"It is. We have a lot more creative reign at this place for sure. The owner's guidelines are easy to stick to and broad enough for us to play around with ideas. He lets us decide all the menus, from breakfast to dinner." You explained.

"We'll have to drop by some time then." Mrs Park turned to her husband, who nodded in agreement.

"Sure but please give a prior warning. Don't just show up and surprise us." Seonghwa sighed. His parents have always done that at the previous places you've worked at.

"No promises." Mr Park laughed.

"We'll go out for a meal soon, hmm?" Mrs Park held your hand with a soft smile.

"I'd like that." You said, hugging her. She giggled, patting your back. You can proudly say that Seonghwa's parents raised you in your parents' absences.

After Seonghwa's parents were called away by other business acquaintences, you took the chance to sneak off for a breather. You found an outdoor deck area. Seonghwa came to sit with you.

"You haven't eaten anything since we've got here. Do you want some food?" He offered. You shook your head with an assuring smile. You never ate at events like these, with all eyes on you, it was hard to stomach anything. You knew you only had a few minutes before you needed to go back in.

"Last time I disappeared for too long, my father never forgave me for being missing. So I should head back in soon to greet his connections." You sighed.

"Just a while more then we'll head home, okay?" He rubbed your arm.

"Hwa, you can enjoy the ball. Don't let me be your party pooper. I'll be okay." You promised, feeling the guilt settle.

"You aren't. You know I don't like these events too, it's just a chance to compared whose child is better, it's useless. I'm not even in my family business." He rolled his eyes.

"I wonder which inheritor my dad is going to pitch my hand in marriage to tonight?" You chuckled.

"Well, you're going to be taken soon so for Yunho's sake, I hope no one." He laughed. You leaned against his shoulder and took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a few seconds. Even your cheeks ached from all the fake smiles.

"I wish things were normal. That I can bring Yunho home and introduce him to my parents. But I know that'll never happen." You spoke absentmindedly.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Seonghwa said, holding your hand. You shook your head.

"I've accepted it as the reality..." You sighed again.

Although you wished to stay out there with Seonghwa until the end of the event or just go home, you knew you couldn't. So you both went back in.

"Snuck out?"

"You know I'm always finding a way to sneak out, uncle." You said to the smirking male. Of course he knew, he used to help you stay hidden from your father and stepmother, causing him to get lectured by your father. He never liked how they only spoke highly of your stepbrother.

"How is it, really? Living on your own, making a career for yourself." He asked, sipping his wine.

"It's been great. I'm not alone, I still have Seonghwa, Jongho and Wooyoung with me to support me." You smiled softly.

"Feels like there's someone else?" He raised an eyebrow. You contemplated telling him about Yunho. Sometimes, he would let things slip to your father unintentionally.

"At the moment, it's nothing serious." Was all you said.

"I'm happy for you, kiddo. You deserve to be happy again." He said, gently patting your head.

"Thank you. I am slowly getting there." You admitted. He nodded his head, genuinely proud of you. After all, he was the one who loaned you money to pay for your first house when you moved out.

"(y/n), there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. What did I say about disappearing? Your stepmother and I have people to introduce you to." Your father came with a disapproving frown on his face. You knew your father was always a little jealous that you acted differently with Junghyun, like he was your father.

"Sorry, dad. I'm coming." You bowed your head to Junghyun with an apologetic smile and walked to where your father was, letting him lead you back to the social introductions.

"You shouldn't act so chummy with him." Your father said as you both walked through a secluded hallway.

"Why? You wanted him to be close to me since I was little. You even said that if anything happened to you, he would take care of mum and I." You frowned.

"I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." He shrugged.

"Wait, what wrong idea? They know I am your daughter and they know that you're Uncle Junghyun's friend AND business partner."

"Why do you think he hasn't been around much after your mother died? There were rumours floating around." Your father turned to you. You stopped and looked at him.

"Rumours? What kind of rumours? And even if there were, you've known him since you were kids..." You said. This was news, what sort of rumours was there? You didn't even think much about him not being around after your mum died. You just thought he was working.

"There were rumours that you were his child, not mine. It was embarrassing and harmful so I told him to stop coming around." He revealed.

"Embarrassing? That's all you care about? Did you care about mum, being falsely accused? Or your own best friend. Don't tell me you actually believed those rumours." You crossed your arms.

"Of course not. I cared about your mum, I did it to protect her and her image." He frowned.

"Sure..." You nodded.

"I will not be disrespected by you, young lady. Know your place. It was a mistake to let you get close to Junghyun. He encouraged your bad habits" He clicked his tongue.

"What bad habits? You wouldn't know, dad. You were never there." You pointed out.

"He helped you run away from home, gave in to all your little temper tantrums. That's why you turned out to be like this." He gestured. You wanted to bite back, that your uncle saved you, he gave you an escape. But it would be futile to argue with your father right now. Taking a deep breath, you turned to walk away.

"Where are you going now? You are not done." Your father said firmly. You turned around, fighting back the tears.

"Bye, dad. I'll see you when you want me to." You bowed your head respectfully and spun on your heel to walk to the exit. As you were exiting, you sent Seonghwa a text.

"Wait, you left? Where are you? What happened?"

"It's okay, Hwa. I'm okay. I'm on the way home already. You should stay with your parents. I'll see you tomorrow." You said.

"No, you're not okay. Geez, (y/n)... What did he do? I'll meet you back at your house."

"Hwa, please. I already feel like shit that you always have to comfort me when I fight with my dad. Please, I just need some space to collect myself. I'll be okay." You begged, sitting in the cab.

"Okay, fine. Call me later."

"I will. Thanks, Hwa." You tried to fight the tears and the strain in your voice before hanging up. You took a deep breath and sent a text to Yunho instead of calling him. You didn't want him to worry if he heard how shaky your voice currently was.

~

Series masterlist

[lowkeyrobin]

hey! (just wanna say I really love your writing and especially the ones on mental health)

could I ask for more of the reactions to an Australian accent, but with the cricket crew instead? (those who are okay with x reader ofc)

tysm!!! have a wonderful day!

ah omg thank you 🫶🫶🫶 I've been working really hard esp on those ones + the fact I've always kinda struggled w mental health stuff so I rlly pour my heart out into those ; and he's of course!! sorry if I misunderstood you on that last one by the way LMAO ; gonna keep this as a oneshot tho because it was way easier than a preference format for some reason ; also I wish we got more freddie, tommy, tubbo & ranboo pics while we could 😔🙏

HANDSOME BROS ; australian accent

summary ; youre the only aussie in a group of british kids (and an american)

warnings ; language, lots of ball jokes (sorry tommy)

word count ; 1.4k

masterlist

Showing up for Tubbathon 2024 was a wild one.

Having your hand duct taped to Tommy's was also a whole thing in itself. At least you weren't working with Ranboo, who had no idea how to cook, unlike their poor partner Freddie. Recipe For Disaster was probably a horrible idea to join.

You and Tommy, Green Team, versus Ranboo and Freddie, Orange Team.

You'd never really talked on stream before. You either communicated through Minecraft signs or in-game chats. If you did speak, however, you'd often use a voice changer to make you seem a little more understandable, as you knew your accent was a bit difficult to understand sometimes.

You'd also met with your friends in real life before, of course, but you made sure the entire trip you strained your voice to sound a little more understandable.

But, now cooking with one of your long-time friends, the big guy TommyInnit himself, you didn't seem as worried or insecure when you spoke. I mean, you'd barely spoken, but you were in a comfortable environment - Tubbo's house - and were accompanied by friends you'd known for a long time now.

The stream had started and Tubbo had explained your rules, leaving the two groups to get to cooking.

"Hey, mate, can you hold the bowl while I stir the eggs?" You kindly ask Tommy, wriggling a whisk out of the jar between the stations.

The blonde blinks in silence, staring at you, "Your accent went 0 to 100 very quickly, Y/n/n" He giggles.

"Wait, what?" You glance about, feeling a little nervous as you plop the whisk into the measuring cup, needing to stir the eggs.

"Not in a bad way! Like, I never noticed your fuckin' accent was so, like, heavy before? You didn't sound like that last time we met up, or talked" He shrugs as he explains himself.

"Oh" You shrug, watching as he secures his free hand around the handle of the glass measuring cup. You begin to whisk the eggs, poking at the yolks to make it go a little bit faster. "I mean, I usually use a little voice changer to make me a little more understandable"

"Ohhhhh, wait, that makes sense" He nods, "Ow! Calm down, I'm not trying to get surgery on my wrist now!" He quickly pulls his hand away, feeling something pop.

"Shit, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

He bites his tongue, nodding as you reach for his hand. "I'm good"

You gently grab his wrist, quickly and lightly kneading the area for him.

Ranboo looks up, seeing you two distracted in your green aprons. "They're taking a massage therapy break already" they comment, tapping Freddie on the shoulder.

"C'mon, man up, Tommy! You'll be okay" Freddie lightly smiles, cracking a few eggs over the measuring cup, which they'd just struggled to find.

"Dude, I just had surgery on my crowned jewels, I don't think I will!"

"Good God, help me now" You chuckle

Ranboo and Freddie go silent for a moment before the boy with the red hair speaks up.

"You weren't kidding about the voice changer, were you?"

You shake your head no, "Why would I lie about that, mate?"

The two shrug, hearing Tubbo fake yell at them for cheating since they were conversing with you. The four of you jokingly plan a rebellion that you'd put into place for later, deciding to focus on the food right now.

"Tommy, Tommy, the plate, not the floor! If you drop that I'll actually kill you"

"It's on the damn plate!"

Tommy quickly sets the pan down to help you fold the guacamole together, using his one hand to hold the bowl while you rushingly mix it all up. From the avocados to the lemon juice, you got it to a nice consistency, and, with a struggle, get a dab of it on the paper plate you were given next to the burrito.

"I think he's gonna like it either way, considering most of what he eats, he orders." You shrug, setting the bowl of guacamole down.

Tommy lightly laughs, "Yeah, that's true"

You were finished before the timer, luckily, however, Freddie and Ranboo were still working, using each hand to do their own tasks to work a little faster.

"Tubbo, can you understand me with my accent this thick?" You shout into the other room, purposely making your voice and accent sound a bit thicker to try and mess wirh him.

It's silence until he answers, like he needed to translate your words. "Barely!"

You and Tommy laugh, chatting away while the other group works.

"What's Australia even like? Just like... giant spiders and kangaroos?"

"Holy shit"

"I'm serious! It's not like I'm going anytime soon"

"Well, it's not that. It's like the UK but much warmer, and yeah, kinda scarier. It's like a real-life Better Minecraft mod"

"You guys have armored skeletons attacking you??" Tommy laughs as he teases you.

"I hate you!" You laugh

"I love how you say 'you', it sounds so dumb"

"It sounds like how you Brits say it!" You smile, using your free hand to try and fight him in a playful manner.

"Dumb in a nice way! Dumb in a nice way!" He shouts, trying to use his free hand to protect himself from the cat fight. "They weren't lying when they said you Aussies fight like wild animals, what's next, you gonna kick the shit out of me?" He asks, egging you on.

"I'm gonna kick you in the crown jewels if you don't shut up!" You joke, making him scream in terror, probably killing the viewers' ears as well.

He yelps, falling back as he drags you down with him, having slipped on himself.

"Tommy!"

"Ow!"

"Jesus Christ, they've broken each other's backs off that floor, I heard it" Freddie lightly laughs, holding the paper plate up for Ranboo so they could put the food on it. "I think Y/n's dead"

"Tubbo! We need the ambulance!" Ranboo laughs, "Get Eryn back here, they actually can't get up! The tied hands have impaired them tremendously"

"Tommy, just stand up!"

"My balls hurt!"

"Then let me stand up, I can't when you're holding your dick together!"

Eryn quickly rushes over, helping the both of you stand up slash getting Tommy to release his tied hand from his crotch. You help him up and pat him on the shoulder with your free hand as Tubbo wraps up the time.

In the end, your groups nearly tied, you and Tommy one point behind Freddie and Ranboo. Honestly, they did deserve the win.

"I still can't believe you fooled us with the voice changer, even changing your voice in real life. I swear, you sound totally different," Freddie lightly chuckles, freeing himself from the apron.

"In a good way, though" Ranboo adds, "Your accent is really fucking cool, trust me"

You lightly smile, freeing yourself from Tommy's sweaty hands. "Thanks- ow, holy shit!"

"You think that hurt?" The blonde teases, having ripped the rest of the duct tape of your hands.

"Piss off"

After the stream ended, Tubbo turned on some music while you guys cleaned up. He and Eryn were sorting out the lights, cameras, and microphone while the four of you cleaned up the kitchen. You decided to clean each other's messes, trying to make it a little more enjoyable, which none of you minded.

The music, picked my Tubbo himself, was an early 2000s hip hop mix, titled something like 'Greatest 2000s Hip Hop Hits' or something. And of course, Ranboo and Tommy were getting down to it, mostly leaving you and Freddie to do the cleaning while you laughed at them singing and dancing along.

Tommy was bouncing around, not focused on cleaning whatsoever as he tugs on your hand, wanting you to join in.

"Y/n, Freddie, cmon!"

"This isn't High School Musical, dude" You reply

"You deserve a break!" Ranboo shouts, pulling Freddie into whatever fucked up dance trapezoid you guys had going on.

You sigh and set down the cups you were washing and turn the water off. You spray the water from your hands on Freddie, starting a war as you join their little dance party.

Freddie gasps and smiles, throwing the little bit of water in the measuring cup at you in retaliation.

"Australian versus Brit! Who will win!?" Tommy shouts with a little laugh.

"Hopefully not the American"

You fake shudder and nod. "Yeah, I agree with that, Ranboo"

[alicedash2]

Hey! How about a Shanks x reader where they are fake dating but they end up falling in love with each other but before they come to realize it they end up getting jealous when the other gets flirted with or touched for what they deem as to long and end up confessing at dinner.

Shanks x Reader! "dating"

=============

( im so tired, but i hope u like it <3 )

==============

female pronoun

not rewied

============

One day, YN was in a somewhat risky situation, her parents demanded that she start dating and get married soon, as they wanted grandchildren.

But, she wasn't always lucky with people, exclusively with men, she just wanted to focus on her studies and work, but that wasn't enough.

For her parents, she should get married and be a housewife, for them, she didn't need any more knowledge, her life was almost done

After returning from her university, her island was invaded by pirates, the infamous Redheads, she quickly went to see them, quickly, and tried to hide so that no one she knew would see her.

When she arrived at the beach, where she saw the crew scattered across the beach, when her eyes saw that man with red hair and drinking alcohol, she thought

"Perfect!"

And so, he went to him

" Hey! "

"Hmm?"

She trembled a little, gathering courage

" Can I…talk to you? "

The redhead looked at her, up and down, he gave one of his friendliest smiles.

"My name…my name is YN LN, you must be Shanks, right?"

"Ah, that's me, my crew and I just came to look for food and drink, nothing much"

"It doesn't matter to me"

"Oh?"

"…I want to make a deal with you…I can pay you whatever amount you want"

" Ooh…what would it be? "

"…you'll need to pretend to be my…boyfriend, don't ask why, I'll explain it to you later!"

"Eh?"

" …what it was? "

" A-ah…how inconvenient…why are you asking me to pretend? "

"What did I tell you not to ask why?! Just come!"

So, YN picks him up in the morning and pulls him, he wonders where she will take him, he doesn't worry much, he just gets confused, a few minutes later, they arrive, a beautiful and large house for a family of 3 people

"Dad, Mom! I'm here"

"Honey! That you're late for….dinner…" YN's motherly voice dropped when she saw the 2 meter tall man near her daughter

" I brought my boyfriend to dinner, I came to introduce him! "

YN's mother was stunned, motionless for a while, Shanks tried to protest but YN stepped on her foot

"What? What's the matter?"

"Ah…no, nothing…"

YN's mother walked away to talk to YN's father to tell him that Younkou Shanks was "dating" her daughter.

"Hey, I didn't even agree to do that!"

"Shush! I'll pay anything, just pretend to be my boyfriend!"

" Tsc… For how long? "

" Two weeks… "

" Two weeks?! Are you crazy?!"

"Be quiet! We already have a deal!"

" What?! "

Suddenly, YN's parents appeared, forcing a smile, it was noticeable that they were scared, they sat down, the food was already on the table, they were just waiting for their daughter to return from university.

"So… You can sit down"

The mother says, in a soft tone

"Ah, excuse me"

Shanks was the first to sit down, YN sat next to him so as not to cause any suspicion, YN's expression was neutral, calm, Shanks, on the other hand, was a little uncomfortable but tried not to show it.

" You…are the famous Shanks, the redhead… "

"Y-yes…"

For the first time, Shanks allowed himself to be intimidated by a civilian, who held and shook his hand, as if threatening him, and he could easily leave without giving an explanation.

" Haki…? Does she have Haki? "

The redhead thought, feeling YN's hand squeezing his

" N…it's not possible…she's just a civilian, why do I feel intimidated?"

"So… What is your purpose with my daughter, you are a Yonko, you must be very busy…I imagine what you saw in her"

"A-ah, right… I saw that…she has a very good heart, she's a good girl"

" Yes, she is…. How long have you been dating? "

"…4 months…but we hardly see each other"

"YN seems to have a specific…taste in people, and you, YN, what did you see in Shanks, after all, you seem to have a very…notable age difference"

YN raised an eyebrow and thought, she closed her eyes and gave a sweet smile

" I have no idea! "

"Eh?"

" I don't know! "

YN had no idea about Shanks' personality, the only basis she had was the few seconds of conversation before dragging him to her house

" Hey! " Thought the redhead, looking at YN in disbelief

"I really don't know what caught my attention…I think he has a good word or something"

YN shrugged, smiling, she was carefree

"Ahaha…"

YN's mother laughed lightly, then she sighed

And so the dinner took place, it was a little difficult for Shanks while YN felt more relaxed, in the end, when YN said that she would accompany Shanks to a part of the block, they quickly leave the house and walk a few meters before Shanks stops and walks away. turn to YN, with a slight frown

"Look what you've gotten me into!"

"What happened? You accepted!"

"No, I didn't accept it!"

"I can't do anything, now my parents know and they're going to tell everyone, and tomorrow you'll have to accompany me to the city dance"

During dinner, it was said that there would be a celebratory and cultural ball in the city center, and that Shanks forcefully agreed to go, but soon changed his mind when YN mentioned that there would be sake

" You are unbelievable! "

"Think on the bright side, there will be free sake tomorrow! The only thing you'll need is to just accompany me"

Shanks sighed, YN was a stubborn person

"Do you understand? Just for one week, your payment is already guaranteed"

"You didn't even mention what the payment would be"

" I have no money, so it will be sake! "

YN shrugged and smiled, Shanks didn't know how to react

" Please…. "

YN pleaded, with a gentle tone and curling her fingers

"You can take your crew tomorrow… there will be sake, meat, food in general…"

"I just don't understand…why me? There are so many people, why did you choose me"

"It's just…you seemed more…hmm…I don't know, I just felt like it would work with you, and it did"

"...Ah…!"

Shanks sighed.

"Alright, I'll go"

YN cheered, before Shanks said in a serious tone

"Only for two weeks! After that, you will go your own way and make some excuse, understand?"

Shanks spoke with a slight smile, he wouldn't hurt anyone, he could even have fun

" Yes! Thank you! " YN blushed and smiled, happy to have some peace in the relationship issue, no matter how fake it was. She kissed him on the cheek and walked back home, waving

A few days pass, the festival arrived, YN was already with Shanks, holding his right arm

"Just pretend, understand?"

"I know! Don't worry, have fun while I'm here"

YN waved and left, Shanks was quickly offered a glass of sake which he accepted without thinking twice.

The party was going on, Shanks was drinking and eating, his crew was also there, making the party more lively, Shanks got slightly drunk, but nothing serious that could hurt him or anyone

It didn't take long for Shanks to find YN, dancing with another boy, smiling and swaying, he took YN's hands and they spun around, Shanks wanted to be in his place, and so he did.

" Excuse me…"

Shanks approached, with a friendly tone

" She is my girlfriend "

" Hey? "

"Shanks!"

Shanks laughed, blushing

"Why are you going to dance with him, sweetie? If you have a boyfriend to do it with?"

Shanks pushed the man away, who ran away screaming.

"What are you doing?! You ruined everything!"

YN stamped her feet, irritated

"Now, don't be like that! I think I'm the best dancing partner you can have!"

Shanks grabbed her by the waist and brought her closer.

"What a beast you are!"

YN replied, then placed her hands on the man's shoulders and the two began to move slightly

" You are stinking! "

"I know… It's loot"

" I noticed…you're tripping over me! Are you drunk?!"

"Maybe…a little"

He laughed softly, silly, they started dancing again, even with Shanks tripping.

A few minutes pass, YN decides to rest a little, she lets Shanks rest on one of the benches near a park

"Don't leave here!"

YN said, seriously

"You don't boss me…"

Shanks muttered, frowning slightly.

" What? "

" ..Nothing no…"

YN walked away, as YN walked away Shanks grumbled

………..

As YN returned to Shanks with a glass of water, YN saw some other women teasing the man, who was trying to ignore, but it didn't take much for YN to get there, stamping her foot heavily on the ground

" get out now!"

he shouted, with his gaze darkening and with an angry expression, it's not because YN was a fake girlfriend, that he would let himself tarnish YN's image

"He's my boyfriend, what are you doing?!"

"YN, calm down!"

" no! "

Shanks tells him with a surprised look when he sees tears and YN's cheeks blush.

" Why are they here?! Why didn't you kick them out?! What did I do wrong, you can't ruin everything like that! "

YN screamed, with some tears rolling down

Shanks walked over and hugged her gently, giving her a sweet smile.

"Don't worry, YN… nothing happened, don't cry, hey..."

Shanks tried to calm the crying young girl.

and finally, in the late afternoon, YN and Shanks were sitting on a single bench, YN was still wiping her tears, YN hiccupped before starting to speak

"…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…acted like that, now everyone will think I'm crazy"

Shanks remained silent, looking down, he felt YN stand up and sigh

" I'm sorry, I know that from the beginning you didn't want to… if you want… you can go, I don't want to… make you go through more problems"

YN walked, without saying anything else, Shanks was alone for the rest of the afternoon

A few days passed, YN returned home, the golden sun permeated a little more, it was summer, a pleasant and comfortable summer.

YN caught a glimpse of a person, whom he ignored until he heard his name being called.

"YN, hey!"

YN stopped, the velvety voice touched YN tensely and YN turned around, seeing that man with red hair, he walked slowly, looking at YN

"…I thought, and…and I would like…ah…"

he tried to speak, he sighed a little, thinking of the best way to speak

"if you want, I wouldn't mind if…we were a…a couple"

this fell on YN's head as a greater relief, Yn sighed and blushed slightly

"…I wouldn't care either…"

"…that is good"

Shanks held YN's hand, massaging it lightly.

"I know we only met recently, but…that doesn't stop us"

" I don't call! "

YN kissed him softly on the lips, catching the man off guard

"h-hey…!"

he smiled mischievously

" Apparently, I've already realized what a woman you are…"

Shanks flirted, then sealed a slightly deeper kiss, he took her by the waist and walked her home, laughing and telling jokes, being himself...he are a just a man in love

[kidcosmonaut]

No Banners — Poe Dameron x f!Reader — Prologue

Description: Poe Dameron is set to break you, a pirate who is just as much an enemy to the resistance as you are to the First Order, out of prison, not knowing that what follows will test both of your loyalties. Warnings: murder, strong language Words: 1.1k A/N: This is me rewriting a fic that I started on years ago on another blog but never got past the prologue. If it feels familiar, it might be!

Prologue ☆ Chapter One →

Vinis Dallo woke to darkness. Not the kind of darkness he would like, mind — he’d have been happy to awaken to a dark hotel room in the inner rim with a beautiful Twi’lek on each side of him, the way a man like him deserved — but a fake darkness, created by fabric, by some sort of bag thrown over his head. The last thing he remembered was an alarm, a siren alerting him that his ship was being boarded by hostiles. And then this.

He’d kill them. He’d get his hands on those filthy pirates sooner or later and make them pay for every scrap of metal they damaged, for every belonging of his they touched, but most of all for the indignity they forced him to endure.

“He’s stirrin’,” someone said.

Dallo heard the shuffle of feet, and then the bag was ripped from his head.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Cap’n’s protocol. Don’t risk nobody seein’ nothin’ they shouldn’t. Nothin’ to see here, though. Y’alright?”

“Pirate scum,” he croaked. How long had he been out that he couldn’t even talk? What had they done to him?

“Ah. You’re thirsty. I’ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ ya some water.”

“I don’t want your damn—”

“It just gets drier from here, I promise ya. Accept it while ya can.”

“No,” said Dallo, more forcefully.

“What’ve I told you?” came a new voice, from off to his left, where he hadn’t ventured to look yet. “All the money in this galaxy cannot buy a person sense. Go, Tonor. I’ll let you know if he changes his mind about your offering.”

Tonor, his name must then have been, widened his already big, black eyes, and nodded. “Yes, Cap’n,” he said, scurrying off like a bug.

From the shadows emerged the woman who had spoken, a human in a long, red coat, fingers covered in shining rings she’d no doubt stolen from previous victims, and enough necklaces to cause aches.

“You,” Dallo spat.

“Me,” you said, gleefully.

“I should have known. We didn’t even see you coming.”

“It’s a fast ship, mine. Scavenged it together myself. Kept a part from yours as well, that I think will be a lovely addition to genetics. That, ah, cloaking device. That is something. Not good enough to sufficiently hide you, it turns out, but technology can only do so much for a crew when their pilot’s an idiot.”

“Fuck you.”

“Succinct. Pity, the rumors had all made you out to be a wonderful conversationalist and I do love to talk.” Your fingers dragged across his chest, faltering just over the pendant that hung from it. “This is pretty.”

He leaned forward. “Pirate whore.” He spat, this time literally, the thick glob hitting you on the cheek.

You blinked slowly, your facial expression even. With the back of your hand, you wiped your cheek and then, before he had a chance to brace himself, slapped him with it so hard his chair fell over.

It stung. Even after the contact pain subsided a bit, he could feel some kid of sharp burning on his skin — the rings, it must have been. You cut his face with them.

“You don’t seem to realize the situation you’re in, warmonger,” you told him, kicking the exposed back of the chair just beside his head until he was on his back, still tied up and defenseless, now staring at the ceiling. One of your boots came to rest upon his collarbone. “See, your ship was blown to shards hours ago with your crew still on it. Everyone who knew of your fate is dead. It’ll be days before anyone’s noticed you haven’t made it to your destination and sounds the alarms over it, and by then, well. And you’re here spitting in the face of the one person in the galaxy with the ability to help you? Not the choice I’d make.”

“Help me? You’re going to kill me!”

“With the way things are going right now? Yes, I’d say that’s likely. But I don’t have to. And since you still have something I want… maybe we can work out a deal.”

“You’ll let me go?”

“Sure. We’re already docked. I can let you off my ship right here, and you can take the first ride back to Canto Bight. How does that sound?”

He shouldn’t have trusted you. You were a pirate. Still, he knew who your family was, and he knew they wouldn’t make deals without meaning it.

And it was his only chance, anyway. He didn’t want to die.

“What do you want from me?”

“The passcode to that little map you had in your deck. The one I reckon has all every coordinate to every munitions factory and warehouse you own. Acquiesce, and I’ll check that the code works, and you can walk right out.”

Dallo swallowed hard. “8-1-2-3.”

You grinned. “Good boy.”

And then you disappeared, leaving him to stare at the ceiling. He was going to get out. He knew he was, he’d played enough games in Canto Bight to know when he was being lied to, and you weren’t lying.

Mercy. At the hands of the galaxy’s most notorious and destructive pirate.

It took just minutes for you to return, looking pleased, with two of your crew mates in tow. Tonor, as you’d called him, the Rodian, and a Togruta female he recognized as your first mate, Syala Tille.

Syala righted his chair with a roll of her eyes — at him or at your dramatics, he wasn’t sure — and Tonor got to work at untying his bonds.

Dallo shook his leg slightly, hoping to feel the weight of the blaster he always kept hidden by his ankle, but came up short. Of course you’d have checked. He was lucky you hadn’t strip-searched him, at least as far as he was aware.

“It worked. But you knew that, of course,” you said with a wave of your hand. “A deal’s a deal. You’re free to go. My bullies will walk you out.”

“You never told me which planet we’re on.”

“No,” you said. “I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. You were flying awfully close to the edge of the mid rim when we caught you, figured we’d take a little detour from there. We always did love exploration.”

His stomach dropped. “We’re in the unknown area.”

“Indeed. This planet has no name. It’s not on any maps. Not a surprise, really, it doesn’t have any water, either. If anyone’s ever visited before, I imagine they didn’t stay for long. Certainly won’t come back.”

You reached out and snagged the pendant right off his neck.

“You’re leaving me here to die,” he said.

“Maybe. Probably.” You grinned. “You should have accepted the water.”

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