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lightseoul · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER 8 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.1k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, mentions of food, so much violence. like so much y'all but it's Canon-typical violence, references to (quirk) supremacist views, a (somewhat) graphic depiction of mental health issues

a/n. the content of this chapter is one of the reasons why i almost didn't start this series in the first place. as it turns out, action scenes are deceptively difficult to write—i struggled at first, but i eventually got into the groove of things and found it so fun! so much shit will go down, and i hope you find yourselves at the edge of your seats while reading this <3 please, please let me know what you think and don't be a stranger! enjoy :')

links. masterlist, ao3

You shoot up at the blaring sound of the alarm clock.

You scramble to reach and turn it off where it stands on the nightstand—quickly, before it wakes Bakugou up—a sigh of relief wracking your body when you manage to do so, a sudden stillness instantly enveloping the room.

That relief doesn’t last very long, though, because you’re once again shot with panic when you look up toward the foot of the bed, only to see the man himself already standing in front of it—fully awake.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, clutching your chest, “You scared me.”

“It’s too early to be this scared, princess,” is his pointed retort, a small hint of teasing underlying his tone. You shoot him a pained smile but don’t say anything back, not finding the courage within you to admit that your hands may or may not be already shaking in anticipatory anxiety.

Instead, you watch him as he does mobility stretches in place, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth as he warms up his joints and rotates his limbs. He invites you to join him a moment after, and you do, if not in an attempt to ground yourself then in preparation for any physical combat that may ensue later on.

Not much is said between the two of you as you go on to prepare for the day, maneuvering silently within his bedroom and taking turns in the bathroom. He lets you get changed first, and you shimmy yourself in your most comfortable office clothes, finding almost immediately that describing them as ‘comfortable’ might be a stretch. Least suffocating, maybe—but the instructions were clear that you had to look the part, at least so that you could get past the guards and enter the building.

Apparently, you need to infiltrate the place organically to buy you as much time to position yourselves without raising suspicion. Mystically showing up on the premises with a man who will vanish not a moment later wouldn’t exactly be a common sight for the employees manning the CCTVs.

Well, then. You guess your long-sleeved blouse, slacks, and regrettably heeled shoes will have to do.

Not even five minutes after you step out of the restroom so he can get dressed himself, Bakugou emerges in a similarly dark, wrist-length shirt and trousers, and you’re about to comment on this unfamiliar yet…welcome sight when your eyes catch his notoriously unruly head of hair—magically pushed back, revealing his forehead.

Now, of all the things that strangely popped into your mind upon seeing him—handsome definitely wasn’t one of them—what you end up blurting is: “How the hell did you style it that fast?”

“Huh?” he responds absentmindedly, fiddling with his sleeves as he seats himself on the edge of the bed opposite from you. “Style what?”

You gesture towards his head. “Your hair. Hasn’t it always been a little hard to control?”

Folding his sleeves right up to his forearm, he then turns to face you, a borderline sheepish expression etched on his features. “’s some extra strong gel. Best Jeanist gifted it to me for my birthday.”

Ah.

“Yeah, well, it suits you,” you offer honestly, averting your gaze just as you think he is about to flash you a smirk. And before he can say anything: “I’m guessing you’re ditching the gauntlets for today?”

He nods, although he’s suddenly looking far from pleased. “No choice,” he intones, “My firepower will take a hit, but I can still get by without them.”

“Enough to kick some ass?”

A grin. “Always.”

You let Bakugou’s well-earned confidence infect you as you finish getting ready together, stuffing your respective bags with things you can let go of in case they get caught up in the fight, before finally walking out of your little sanctuary and into the living room. The twins are on you in an instant, installing your trackers on your chests where they’ve since taken residence for the past two weeks, pulling away without a single word afterward. You mutter a quick thanks, before walking toward Bakugou on the couch and asking him what he wants for breakfast.

“Something light,” is his answer. “Don’t wanna be bogged down by a heavy stomach.”

You end up getting him french toast with a protein shake—whether or not that was light for a man his size, you have no idea—while ordering a croissant and iced tea for yourself. You don’t bother asking the twins if they want to get something as well—opting to just get them breakfast sandwiches and coffee instead. You heard a stomach grumble just a few minutes ago—and it definitely wasn’t yours or Bakugou’s.

The food arrives just as quickly as it did the night prior, and you waste no time digging in. To your pleasant surprise, the twins accept the offering, albeit too begrudgingly for your taste. Maybe letting them starve was the smarter move for today’s final mission, but as you watch them scarf everything down in a matter of minutes, you decide that that’s a trade-off you’re willing to overcompensate for.

By the time you’ve finished eating and cleaning up, it’s a few minutes before 6 AM, and you resolve that as far as D-Days are concerned, the start of this one is going swimmingly well.

Right up to the moment Kouki materializes and grabs Bakugou’s wrist but not yours.

“Change of plans.”

At that, you instantly freeze just as Bakugou barks: “The fuck do you mean change of plans?”

That doesn’t seem to faze the teleporter, who instead regards the pro-hero with a stern, almost chastising look. “You’re needed in one of the schools. You’re coming with me.”

Somehow, you snap out of it. “But you said—”

“It’s a direct order,” he spews, now looking at you with such intensity that has your blood turning cold. “One that you have to follow. Unless…”

“Unless, what?” growls Bakugou.

He smiles. “Unless you want us to call off the entire operation and teleport where you can’t find us.”

Fuck.

Beside you, Bakugou must be thinking the exact same thing, because he suddenly goes quiet.

Kouki harrumphs. “That’s what I thought.”

Neither Bakugou nor you say anything else in protest after that, acutely aware of the gamble that has to be made.

It’s clear as day: either you follow the order and divide and possibly conquer, or resist and lose them altogether.

Perhaps for good.

Armed with the explosives Bakugou made himself, no less.

You chance a glance at the pro-hero, and the impassive look on his face is enough to tell you what he’s decided on.

You’re running out of time and you also need to say something, you know that. Otherwise, he’s going to think there’s something more important to the two of you than seeing the operation you’ve been devotedly ‘working on’ to fruition.

Something beyond just two lovers ensuring each other’s safety.

Forcing yourself to meet Kouki’s steely gaze, you finally relent and nod. “How’s the rest of us gonna get to our post, then?”

“I’ll come back right after I teleport him,” comes his speedy answer, seemingly satisfied with your newfound enthusiasm. “I’ll take you three to where Masaki is waiting near the Prime Minister’s Office.”

“He’s already there?” you can’t help but ask, suddenly nervous at the mention of the kingpin.

You still don’t know his quirk.

“Yes, and he mustn’t be kept waiting,” Kouki says cuttingly, before turning to regard Bakugou, whose wrist he’s still holding. “We’ve to get going.”

“Alright,” the pro-hero grits out, shrugging off the man’s hold, “Just—give me a sec.”

For a second, you think he’s going to head to the restroom to pee before the ‘mission’ starts, but then he’s stepping towards you, and you barely manage to stop yourself from tilting away when he leans into your space, immediately followed by a firm grip on your shoulders. Despite yourself, you gulp.

Bakugou lets out a long exhale. He’s not looking at you—you note—gaze directed towards the floor. You decide then and there that you don’t like seeing him like this.

Like he’s actually…scared.

“Hey,” you whisper, and he looks up, finally meeting your eyes. You almost stumble at the sheer intensity of them.

Almost.

In spite of that—and you don’t know how you do it—you manage to smile at him, as genuinely as you can.

“What are you so worried about?” you tease, voice soft enough for just him to hear. “I’ll be okay.”

To your dismay, that doesn’t make Bakugou laugh—countenance still grim—but his features do soften. So minutely, the change is almost imperceptible—but it’s there.

“How can you be so sure?” he actually whispers back.

That makes you grin, the answer already at the tip of your tongue.

“Because you don’t date losers.”

Now, at your quip, you expected him to at least smile. Maybe chuckle, if that punchline came out funnier than you intended it to.

But what you absolutely didn’t expect was for him to grab you by the neck and pull you into a kiss.

It takes you a second to realize what’s happening, body rigid in utter surprise, but you eventually relax into his hold, wrapping your arms around his torso as he deepens the kiss. A few more seconds pass by with your lips interlocked before he finally pulls away, face flushed and a little out of breath.

“Be careful,” he eventually gets out a beat later, and you nod, suddenly hyperaware of the three pairs of eyes watching you.

Kouki’s especially.

“You, too,” you call out to Bakugou as he lets go and returns to the spot beside Kouki, who once again takes his gauntlet-less wrist.

“We’ll be off, then,” the old man announces, and just like that, they’re gone.

Kouki returns—alone—in record time, an inexplicable expression written on his face. You debate whether or not to ask him how things are at Bakugou’s location, ultimately deciding against it when the man impatiently beckons you to move. You promptly approach and hold onto him just as the twins adjust their portkeys without much complaint, all the while trying to ignore the churning sensation at the pit of your stomach.

The borderline nauseating feeling doesn’t get any better as you get whisked away from Bakugou’s apartment unit in a matter of seconds, suddenly finding yourself sat as you emerge in what you think is an SUV—judging by the size of its interior. You squirm in your seat—too caught up in the discomfort of being squished between Kouki and Omiru in the back—to notice it.

But then you look up, and when you do, the churning from earlier stops and your stomach drops entirely.

From where he’s conveniently plastered in the driver’s seat, Masaki turns to fully face you, smiling.

Or at least you think he is, based solely on the upturn of his lips.

Because hiding his gaze is what seems to be hardened, high-tech goggles.

Goggles that completely block your view of his eyes.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You vaguely register Masaki thanking Kouki for bringing the three of you to him, and you think Kouki must’ve teleported away judging from the faint swell in wiggle room at your sides. But you couldn’t recall when that was exactly, and this very thought sends another shot of panic through you, the taste of bile now blooming in your throat.

You know what you have to do.

Clenching your eyes closed, you center your attention on the primary emotion you’re feeling—fear, unmistakable fear—and pull.

Instantly, you feel your facial muscles relax, cautious enough to let the change appear slowly—both in your face and in your frame.

The last thing you need is to inadvertently confirm any suspicion about your quirk.

Even if it means using a huge chunk of today’s reservoir on yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter open, and you’re once again met with the sight of Masaki, whose torso is now turned towards you.

Shit.

You scramble for something to say.

“I-isn’t it a bit too early?” you ask, averting your gaze toward the car window. “Is the Prime Minister even around at this hour?”

You don’t get to see Masaki’s reaction to your sudden question—you wouldn’t be able to study his eyes anyway—but you hear him shuffle in his seat, turning back to face forward. “Yes, he’s expecting a visitor.”

A million questions come up in your head—how he even knows that information is one of them—but what you end up asking is: “How about the rest?”

That must’ve been the right query to ask, because Masaki hums in what you think is approval. “People will be there, Y/N. When the Prime Minister’s around, most of the employees are expected to be present.”

You guess that makes sense.

You don’t say anything else after that, opting to peer at Masaki through the rearview mirror instead. To your surprise, he shifts his head towards the very same mirror, and you’re almost sure he’s looking straight back at you.

He smiles again. This time, a little too knowingly.

“Is there something—” he starts, before trailing off and pointing to his eyepiece. “Oh, this?”

You bristle. Still, you feign ignorance. “Huh?”

“You seem to have been staring at my glasses.”

You let your brows furrow, as if in confusion. “I…don’t think I was?”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” Omiru suddenly spits at you from the side, and you startle.

“What the—”

“Now, now, Omiru,” scolds Masaki with that placating tone of his. “Y/N might’ve been lying to us but we still have a mission to finish.”

You blanch. “Lying?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” comes the leader’s quiet response, who’s watching the scene unfold behind him through the mirror. “It’s a pity our surveillance men took so long to notice, how you had us acting strangely, that day we met.”

Masaki cocks his head to the side, before: “Your quirk works via eye contact, doesn’t it?”

You stiffen.

“Thought so,” he concludes, and you bite back the urge to close your eyes in defeat. It’s too early to give up.

“Don’t worry, though,” he adds on after a beat, finally bringing the engine to life. “Nothing will happen as long as you cooperate and use luck when I tell you to.”

…Luck.

Did he just say luck?

Your eyes must’ve widened a bit at what he just said, because he continues. “Ah, Bakugou?” he asks, and suddenly you’re hit with the guilt of not thinking about the pro-hero.

Especially when he says the next thing.

“Like I said,” Masaki drawls, “As long as you cooperate, no one gets harmed.”

A pause.

“Even him.”

Your question gets answered as soon as you stop at the guard house.

Masaki’s quick to take off the goggles before rolling down his window, greeting the primary security guard with such innocence you definitely couldn’t have guessed he was on his way to an assassination if you based on just the encounter alone.

The guard flashes him an easy grin as he greets back, before bringing the walkie-talkie that’s velcroed on his shoulder closer to his mouth. “Masaki Kento of the Korean Consulate, heading towards Building C. I repeat, Masaki Kento to Building C.”

A bunch of static emanates from the device, immediately followed by a robotic voice. “Copy that. Let him in.”

At that, Masaki salutes him a thanks, which the guard returns fervently. You don’t even get to catch a glimpse of the former’s eyes before he’s got the window up and the eyepiece swiftly back on his face.

“Let me guess,” you pipe up as Masaki rounds a curb and drives more slowly as you enter the grounds, “You’re a consul and these two are your domestic bodyguards.”

“Yes,” Masaki readily confirms, “That is correct.”

That explains why he’s almost never present in the headquarters.

“Huh,” is the only thing you can muster, focus now trained on any human that you pass by.

The less they are in number, the better—is what Bakugou said. So far, most if not all of them are decked out in attire guards would normally wear, which you think isn’t much of an unfamiliar sight in this estate.

Eventually, you arrive at the front of what you believe is Building C, stepping out of the vehicle with your handbag in tow a moment later, smoothing the crinkled lines of your slacks. You pretend not to pay attention as an again bare-faced Masaki hands over the keys to the valet, who is off with the vehicle in seconds to what he said was the multi-story car park.

You don’t dare utter a word as you trail behind the man carrying a bulky briefcase you’re positive contains nothing but bombs, with the twins walking in step behind you. You keep your eyes fixed on the staircase as you do, painfully aware of how your nerves are coming back alive, and this time, somewhat more fiercely than before.

You know better than to waste another ounce of your quirk on yourself, though.

And so with ragged breath, you trudge on with anxiety creeping back up your spine, up until you’re met with another guard at the entrance, who makes a quick work of identifying the four of you. You’re introduced as Masaki’s new personal assistant, while the others just reiterate their established titles. The guard then grants you entry, but not before instructing you to register your name at the reception desk.

Masaki thanks the man on your behalf, and then finally—you enter.

The second that you do, though, you can tell something’s wrong.

For one, right behind the desk that you were ordered to approach, was nobody. Not one receptionist.

Nor are there janitors, guests, employees, or anyone that could possibly be in the Prime Minister’s Office at this hour.

Masaki, who just put on the goggles again, must have thought the same thing, because you catch him physically tensing, like this wasn’t part of the plan.

You’re about to ask him—genuinely—why the place seems to be deserted, when it happens.

Something fast lurches from the shadows in your peripheral vision, and you stumble back just in time to see Hiroto slammed to the ground by no other than Kirishima.

The male twin lets out a yelp in pain as the hardened hero wrestles him in his grip, all at the same time as a long string of tape suddenly fills your vision. You look up, and sure enough, there’s Sero swinging right into Omiru foot first, hitting the woman square in the jaw. She staggers violently backward, right into you—but the collision doesn’t happen, because a hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere and you’re pulled to the side.

A tidal wave of relief washes over you as you let yourself get forcefully dragged, but it’s instantly replaced with terror when you look up to see Masaki’s backside instead. From a distance, you hear Kirishima’s voice call out your name, and it snaps you out of your fear-driven trance. Renewed with unbridled strength, you put as much of your weight as you can on your soles and try to wrangle your hand out of his grip, but it’s too strong.

Masaki manages to haul you toward the end of the hallway, throwing you right into an elevator and punching the close button before you can pick yourself back up on your feet. You barely see him pressing the top-most floor before he turns around and grabs you by the shoulders, pinning you hard against the wall.

“You told them about us, didn’t you,” he seethes, manic, but you don’t dare say anything. At your silence, he lifts you a breadth’s hair away from the surface only to slam you back against it. You can’t help it—this time, you cry, a sharp pain sent straight to your back.

“Answer me,” he demands, and you’re just about to knee him in the balls when the elevator dings. You wait for Masaki to get distracted and look away so you can deliver the blow, but it doesn’t happen. His gaze seemingly remains fixed on yours even as he lugs the two of you out of the box, grip unrelenting as he approaches the nearest fire alarm device, smashing the glass before pulling down the lever.

Almost instantaneously, tens of alarms ring out not just on your floor but on the ones below you, and you can only watch in horror as the numbers on top of the elevators freeze.

“Kouki,” Masaki rasps into his earpiece, his two hands busy holding you at arm’s length. “Kouki, do you copy?”

You growl, a surge of indignation washing over your entire body at him blatantly ignoring you. You extend your leg from underneath in an attempt to trip and then pin him down, but he takes notice in the nick of time and staves off your attack.

“Kouki,” he tries again, even as you manage to ram a punch into his stomach, “Answer me!”

You grit your teeth, feeling your limbs quaking as you fight to fend off his grip. Still, your mind wanders as to why he’s calling Kouki now, of all times.

What, so he can teleport him and the twins out of here?

But then he speaks again, and you see crimson red.

“Kouki, kill him now!”

Your body moves before your brain can think—you throw yourself onto Masaki and grab him by the neck. He stumbles backward until he collapses and his back hits the floor, and you take that as an opportunity to immediately straddle him, increasing the pressure on your chokehold. He splutters for a bit, arms flailing and scratching at you, but before you can even think about trying to rip off his eyepiece and potentially taking the upper hand—at least until Kirishima and the rest arrive—he rolls over and has got you pinned under his weight in seconds. He pulls the same move and roughly wraps his hands around your neck, instantly cutting off the air to your lungs. You wheeze, and yet you still struggle even as you feel the last bits of oxygen die out.

He grins at you, and one look at the man’s face tells you he’s gone mad. “You’re on the wrong side of history, Y/N.”

Great, you think to yourself. Those can’t be the last fucking words you hear before you die.

You make one last attempt at seizing his wrist off of you, but—just like many other things in the past five minutes—that doesn’t get to happen, because something flashes in the corner of your eye—so quickly you think you must’ve imagined it. You squint, and in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have, because, in the second that you do, Masaki is kicked off of your body and slammed straight into the far wall.

Shellshocked, you crawl backward with your forearms as fast as you can, not knowing what the fuck just happened.

But that’s when you see him.

You can only watch in disbelief as Bakugou propels himself across the room in a matter of a millisecond, towering over Masaki’s body instantaneously. “Get back!” Bakugou shouts, and it takes you a beat to realize that he’s talking to you.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

With the little, remaining strength you can muster, you manage to stand back up and hobble towards the corner of the room, farthest from where the two are currently engaging in a fistfight.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that Masaki’s holding up better than you expected him to, and the very same realization must’ve dawned on Bakugou, because the pro-hero swiftly switches gears and starts detonating small explosions toward the man’s direction.

But then the weirdest thing happens.

Instead of being hit by Bakugou’s blasts, Masaki absorbs them—right where the combustions meet his body—

And then, in the blink of an eye, releases it—almost twice in size—straight into Bakugou.

You hear the pro-hero curse just as he barely manages to dodge the hit. The discharge reaches the wall, leaving scorched marks and massive craters on the surface.

This is bad.

And you don’t even have to look at Bakugou to know that.

Still, the pro-hero presses on, and you stand there—restless—as the fight resumes in front of you. Bakugou’s stopped using his quirk to attack altogether, only using it to expertly maneuver himself in the air. Masaki’s fending off the strikes well enough, even landing a few hits here and there. You try to hold eye contact with him—but it’s no use. He’s still wearing the goggles, and you’ve studied them long enough this morning to be fairly sure that it’ll take more than just a perfect kick to the head to have it taken off.

That’s when it dawns on you.

You can’t manipulate Masaki. That’s for sure.

But you can manipulate Bakugou, who—based on what you can see—is becoming more and more frantic by the minute.

No fucking time to hesitate.

“Bakugou!” you shout, and the man doesn’t even glance in your direction, only shouting back: “What?!”

“Look at me!” you yell, pupils darting in record speed as you follow Bakugou’s volatile line of vision. You weren’t about to miss him when he does.

He doesn’t question your request, but he doesn’t immediately look at you either, too wrapped up in hitting Masaki and not getting hit back.

But then Masaki’s suddenly got him pinned against the wall across you, and you find yourself immediately face to face with him. You scream, “Now!”

Exactly right on cue, Bakugou’s gaze drifts from Masaki’s face to yours, and when you lock eyes, you pull.

Manic adrenaline to laser-sharp acuity.

Acuity that he’s always had since you met him in high school.

As hard as you fucking can—and with all that you have left—you pull.

And just like that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes. You can only watch as the metaphorical gears in his head seem to come alive and shift—just as he throws Masaki off of him with unmatched force.

But then he does the unimaginable.

He starts bombarding the man with explosions—one blast after another, not allowing him the chance to even sit up and shield himself—and you stare in outright shock as Masaki’s body glows redder and redder.

Just as you think Bakugou’s completely lost his mind with the series of attacks, he launches himself from the wall and dives into Masaki, grabbing the man’s arm, tugging him to the nearest door with one hand and yanking the slab of wood open with the other.

And only as Bakugou throws Masaki into what you think is a janitor’s closet and locks the door behind him does it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Come on!” Bakugo shouts at you as he presses his entire weight against the door—the door that Masaki’s desperately trying to get through. “Help me lock him in!”

You look around the room for something you can use, your eyes immediately landing on a chair and a moderately-heavy-looking desk. You waste no time grabbing the two pieces of furniture and hauling them toward Bakugou as fast as you can. Taking the chair first, you tilt it by the backrest and lodge it underneath the doorknob until it’s secure enough. You then hurriedly drag the desk to the other side and slide it in front of the door, just as Bakugou propels himself upward and out of the way.

You don’t get to do anything else before Bakugou snatches you by your waist and boosts the two of you toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, smashing against them shoulder-first. You hold onto him for dear life, wincing at the impact even though Bakugou took most of it.

And you’re glad you did everything the way you just did—because not even a second later, the explosion finally goes off—an eruption so massive that you’re both thrown forward from the sheer magnitude alone, the sound of shattering windows and crumbling walls booming in the background. Bakugou loses his balance for a second and you shriek, but he manages to get back into thrusting you into the air with his detonations, carrying you securely in his arms until you reach the ground, gently letting go of you when you do.

The moment your toes touch the concrete floor, though, you’re quick to jump on your feet and hobble away from him.

“Hey—”

Quickly, you tell yourself as you feel the tell-tale pinpricks of tears at the corners of your eyes. Before it’s too late.

But you don’t get to go far enough because Bakugou grabs your wrist, spinning you to look at him. “The fuck do you think you’re go—”

He cuts himself off, the scowl that was just carved on his features instantly falling when he sees your face. “Are you—crying?”

“N-no,” you choke out, although you know it’s no use denying it. You’re already feeling the all-too-familiar closing-in sensation that comes with you overextending yourself.

“Yes, you are, dumbass,” Bakugou retorts, before bringing up his other hand to lightly touch your cheek. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

At the contact, you clench your eyes closed, fighting down the urge to whimper at the steadily increasing pace at which your heart is irregularly racing.

There’s no doubt about it.

It’s now flooding you—the terror that you’ve secretly been tamping down with your own quirk this entire mission—but especially today.

“Fuck—” you warble, and now you’re sure.

You’re having an anxiety attack.

It all happens in a blur—your brain too muddled with palpable fear to keep track of everything around you—but you vaguely register Bakugou wrapping his arms around you and rubbing soothing circles on your back, as he tried to guide your erratic breathing with his.

You remember shaking violently in his hold, gasping for air and barely managing to will yourself to breathe normally as an undercurrent of dizziness coursed through your veins.

You recall sweating bullets but being cold to the touch, and Bakugou ripping out one of his sleeves to use to wipe away your perspiration. It didn’t really help.

And you don’t know how much time passes with you fighting the nausea on top of everything, even as you heard the distant sound of police sirens, but it does—it somehow does—eventually and strangely finding yourself carried away home.

Home to Bakugou’s.

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snowysosturn · 3 days ago

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Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguments, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

I sat cross legged at the small vanity in my room, blending out the last bit of highlighter on my cheekbones. My outfit I had planned to wear was already laid out on the bed behind me, ready for the evening ahead. My hair was half done, still tied back loosely as I finished off my makeup. It felt nice to have a little time to myself to unwind and prepare, especially after the long day of travelling.

I was in the middle of putting eyeliner in my waterline when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in" I called out, not looking away from the mirror as I focused on not poking my eye.

The door creaked open, and I glanced at the reflection to see Matt stepping in, a glass in his hand. "Vodka lemonade" he said, his voice still carrying the unmistakable slur of someone who had had a little too much to drink.

I turned fully to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You remembered what I drink?"

He shrugged, his grin lopsided but genuine. "Of course. Hard to forget when its the only thing you drink"

I rolled my eyes, taking the glass from him. "Thanks, I guess" I said, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. The moment it hit my tongue, I winced, coughing slightly. "Oh my god Matt! All I can taste is vodka!"

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe like it was holding him upright. "Yeah well, you’ve got some catching up to do. Consider it motivation."

I shook my head, setting the glass down on the vanity. "It’s almost like you’re trying to kill me" I teased, but there wasn’t any bite to my words.

He gave me a wink, nearly stumbling in the process, and we both laughed. For a moment, it was like we never hated each other. It was weird. Today, we’d actually been nice to each other. From the plane to downstairs to now, it was almost like we’d turned a corner. Or maybe the alcohol had simply dulled his usual sarcasm.

Matt straightened up and glanced around my room, his eyes landing on the green crochet outfit on the bed. "That what you’re wearing tonight?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Yep" I said, turning back to the mirror to finish my eye makeup. "I’m just hoping it comes to get the way I have it in my head."

"Bet it’ll look good" he said, his tone softer than I expected. When I glanced back at him, he was already heading out the door. "Hurry up though. Dinner waits for no one, especially when you’re as drunk as I am."

"I’ll be down soon" I replied, watching as he gave me a lazy wave and disappeared into the hallway. After Matt left my room, I set the vodka lemonade on the dresser, deciding to pace myself as I continued getting ready. As I stood back to admire the final look, I adjusted my halterneck top, making sure everything sat just right.

I slipped on my nude heels, grabbed a small clutch, and downed half of the vodka lemonade Matt had brought up. The burn of vodka was strong, but he wasn’t wrong, I did have catching up to do if I wanted to match their buzz. By the time I walked down to the foyer, everyone was gathered there.

“You took long enough” Nick teased with a grin as I joined them.

“Beauty takes time, Nicholas” I shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

We stepped out of the villa together, the warm evening breeze carrying the faint scent of sea salt. The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far, but navigating the uneven path in heels was proving to be a challenge. After a few steps, I stumbled slightly on a dip in the road.

“You alright?” Matt asked, catching up to me.

“Yeah, these heels and this road aren’t exactly the best of friends, a bit like us” I muttered, half laughing at myself.

Without saying a word, he offered his arm. I hesitated for a moment before looping my hand through it.

“Don’t make it weird” he said, smirking down at me.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it” I replied with a sarcastic smile, though I appreciated the gesture.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy spot with string lights draped across the patio. As we approached our reserved table, I heard Nick let out a quiet yell.

“What are you guys doing here?!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and excitement.

I looked up to see a couple seated at our table, their parents. Their mom stood up with a wide smile, pulling Nick into a hug.

“We’ve been in Hawaii for the last few days” she said warmly. “We wanted to surprise you!”

Their dad chimed in, “But don’t worry, we’re staying on the opposite side of the island. We’re not here to crash your whole trip.”

Nick let out a laugh, still processing the surprise. Chris and Matt looked equally stunned but pleased to see them.

The waiter approached to seat us, and we quickly rearranged our tables, one table with four seats and one table with three. I glanced at Matt, who caught my eye with an amused look.

“This should be fun” he said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t figure out how drunk you three are” I whispered back, earning a small chuckle from him.

We settled into our seats, Nate sat across from me, Matt was next to him, and Chris was beside me, while Nick took one of the seats at the table with his parents.

Chris leaned forward toward his parents while pointing at me, his tone casual yet proud as he introduced me to his parents. “This is Y/n” he said. “She works with me for Fresh Love. We’ve been working hard on the new drop, couldn’t do it without her!.”

I smiled politely, but before I could say anything, Nick chimed in from the other table, his grin as wide as ever. “And she’s also my best friend” he added, his playful tone leaving no room for debate.

Their mom smiled warmly, nodding in approval, but the moment didn’t last long. Nick dove into conversation with his parents, leaving the four of us at our table to converse with each other.

Nate glanced up at Matt and Chris, his lips curling into a smirk. “Actually, I never asked how’d Vegas treat you two? Looked like you guys were.. occupied” he said, his words almost like he was implying something.

Chris chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Occupied is one way to put it. Christina practically glued herself to Matt” he teased, earning a scoff from Matt.

Hearing another woman’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no reason to feel jealous, and yet, the idea of Matt being drooled over by someone else stirred something in me that I couldn’t quite place. It was irrational, and I knew it, so I kept my thoughts to myself, silently picking at the edge of my napkin.

Nick’s voice broke the conversation as he turned to Chris. “Hey, wanna head outside for some pictures real quick before we order?”

Chris nodded, standing up and following Nick without hesitation, leaving just me, Matt, and Nate at the table.

There was a brief moment of silence before their mom, who I assume was half listening to our earlier conversation, leaned over with a smile. “So Nate, do you have anyone special in your life right now?”

Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not at all” he replied, his tone light.

Matt, of course, couldn’t resist. “Harsh one.” He snickered under his breath, looking directly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his comment. Before I could even ask what he meant, Matt took things further. He smirked and leaned back in his chair, his voice loud and clear. “Y/n and Nate went on a date last week, you know that?”

My heart sank, my face flushing red as all eyes seemed to land on me.

“What?” I stammered, but Nate jumped in before I could say anything more.

“It wasn’t like that at all” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We just grabbed dinner as friends.”

Matt wasn’t ready to let it go, though. “Oh, come on, Y/n” he teased, his voice making a mockery out of me. “Why so quiet? Feeling the sting of public rejection?”

My stomach twisted in humiliation. I could feel my face burning as I desperately avoided eye contact with anyone at the table. The old Matt was back just like that.

“Matt, stop being so rude” their mom interjected sharply, her tone firm. She turned back to her husband, trying to steer the conversation away from Matt’s antics.

“Yeah c’mon man we’re just friends” Nate tried to make it clear.

But Matt wasn’t done. His next words hit like a punch to the gut. “Oof, imagine just being a quick fuck and then friendzoned.”

The air left my lungs. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I could feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. None of what he said was true, but the damage was done.

“I.. I’m actually not feeling the best right now.. I think it's the heat.. excuse me” I said quickly, my voice cracking as I stood up. I turned to their parents, forcing a polite smile through the lump in my throat. “But it was lovely to meet you.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the table, the tears streaming down my face before I even reached the door.

As I pushed through the entrance, I nearly ran into Nick and Chris, who were heading back inside.

“Y/n?” Chris asked, his expression immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel well” I mumbled, not stopping to explain. Before either of them could say another word, I kept walking, desperate to escape the restaurant, the humiliation, and, most of all, Matt.

I still felt the heat on my face, not from the warm Hawaiian night, but from the lingering embarrassment curling in my stomach. I really hoped his parents didn’t hear him say that. I was halfway down the quiet street when I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me.

“Y/n, wait!”

I clenched my jaw, picking up my pace, but Matt was faster, jogging until he caught up beside me. “Come on, don’t be like that” he said, slightly out of breath. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

I stopped abruptly, whipping around to face him. “Oh, really? Because bringing up that in front of your parents sure didn’t make me feel like the star of the evening.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor fading. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just messing around, you know how I am-”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, I do. That’s the problem.” I turned back around, ready to keep walking, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” His voice was softer now, the arrogance stripped away. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “And yet it did.”

He exhaled heavily, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let him smooth this over with some half assed apology.

“Y/n” he tried again, “I just-”

“I don’t care, Matt.” My voice was cold, firm. “You always do this. Say something without thinking, then act like it’s not a big deal when it is. I don’t need an apology. I just need you to stop.”

He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out a way to fix this, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it. So I stepped around him and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the dimly lit street, finally at a loss for words.

He didn’t follow me this time. Maybe he finally got the message, or maybe he knew pushing it any further would only make things worse. Either way, I didn’t care. My chest still burned from embarrassment, and my head was buzzing with frustration as I made my way back toward the villa.

I reached the villa, slamming the door behind me before kicking off my heels and making my way to the room. The relief of being alone and actually having a bedroom door for privacy was short lived because not even five minutes later, there was a knock.

I sighed, already knowing who it was. “Go away, Matt.”

“Just let me in for a second” he called through the door. “Please.”

I rolled my eyes, but something in his voice made me hesitate. It wasn’t his usual cocky tone. It sounded.. tired. Frustrated, even.

Against my better judgment, I walked to the door and swung it open. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

Matt stepped inside, his jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Look” he started, pausing for a second before meeting my eyes. “I was a dick. I know that.”

I folded my arms. “Great self awareness. Anything else?”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I was trying to be funny, or maybe I was just being an idiot, probably both. But I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

I scoffed. “You said I was a quick fuck that got friendzoned, Matt. How else was that supposed to come out?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it” I shot back, my voice rising. “In front of your parents, no less. Do you even think before you speak, or do you just say the first thing that pops into your head?”

“I-” He stopped, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think you’d care so much.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Care? Are you serious? You embarrassed me, Matt. You made me look like some desperate fool who got used and thrown away. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or something worse. I could tell he wanted to argue, to push back, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” I continued, folding my arms. “It’s not just what you said, it’s that you acted like you knew everything. Like you had some inside joke at my expense. And for what? A laugh?”

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that-”

“Then what was it like?” I challenged, my voice rising. “Because you made it sound like I was some easy target for Nate. And for the record, nothing ever even happened between us.”

Matt’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” I snapped. “That night? Seven Minutes in Heaven? We didn’t even kiss. We sat there and talked, thought we’d mess with everyone's heads. And when we went out when you were in Vegas, and we made it clear we were just friends. There was nothing more to it.”

Matt blinked, like the idea had never even crossed his mind. “So you-”

“I never hooked up with Nate.” I interrupted, my tone sharp. “Not then. Not ever. So whatever picture you had in your head, whatever assumptions you made, they were wrong.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands still shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, you didn’t” I said bitterly. “Because you never asked. You just assumed.”

I could see it sinking in, the weight of his words finally hitting him, but I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. I just felt tired.

Matt let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah” I said, my voice flat. “You were.”

He glanced at me, like he wanted to say more, but I was done.

“I don’t have the energy for this” I muttered, stepping back toward the door. “I’m done, Matt. I don’t care how sorry you are. Just leave me alone. It’s best if we just stay out of each other's way for the rest of the trip.”

His jaw tensed, but this time, he didn’t fight it. He just nodded.

“Alright” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

I didn’t reply. I just closed the door, locking it this time.

a/n : everything is .. not changing?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

#snowy speaks #fire & desire #snowys sturniolo series #snowys series #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #enemies to lovers #matt sturniolo fanfic

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goldsainz · 11 hours ago

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# HARRY STYLES — A COZY BIRTHDAY !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ you decide to organise a cozy affair in italy for harry’s birthday.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ harry and reader are married.

003. NOTE !

✯ the last fic i wrote for him was 13/02/2023 which is crazyyyy! time flies by so so fast. this is short but i hope you guys like it (idk if i’ll write more for harry, but for now, have this) 🫶

word count : 579

The Italian countryside lay quiet beneath a pale winter sky, the crisp February air nipping at your skin as you stood by the kitchen window, watching the rolling hills dusted with frost. A fire crackled in the grand stone fireplace, filling the villa with its golden warmth, and the scent of fresh espresso mingled with cinnamon from the pastries you’d just set on the table.

Today was Harry’s 31st birthday.

You wanted the day to feel cozy, intimate—the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with love.

A sleepy shuffle of bare feet across the wooden floors made you smile before a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“G’mornin’, love,” Harry murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he nuzzled into your neck. He was warm against you, fresh from the blankets, his curls still messy from sleep.

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

His dimples appeared instantly, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Mmm, best birthday already.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say that every year.”

“Cause it’s always true,” he murmured before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands sliding down your back. You melted into him, savoring the quiet of the morning.

A gust of wind rattled the windows, making Harry shiver slightly despite the warmth of the villa. He pouted at you. “S’cold, babe.”

You giggled. “That’s why I made coffee.”

He let you go long enough to wrap himself in the thick knit cardigan draped over a chair, one of your favourites on him. Then he followed you to the breakfast table, where a steaming mug of espresso and a plate of warm pastries waited.

“You cooked?” he teased, eyes twinkling.

You gave him a playful nudge. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

He hummed as he took a bite of the cinnamon roll. “Marry me.”

You laughed. “We’re already married.”

“Marry me again, then.”

The silver band on your finger caught the flickering firelight as you reached for his hand. “I’d marry you a hundred times over.”

His gaze softened, and he squeezed your fingers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The day passed in cozy bliss. You stayed wrapped in blankets on the couch, sipping hot cocoa while watching old movies. At one point, Harry pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in your sweater and mumbling something about how he was never moving from this spot.

But when evening fell, you led him outside. The stone terrace had been transformed—fairy lights twinkled under the pergola, and a small fire pit crackled beside a table set for two. The winter air was sharp, but the warmth of the fire and the thick blankets draped over the chairs made it feel just right.

Harry let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You really are incredible.”

You grinned. “I know,”

Dinner was filled with laughter, his hand never straying far from yours. When the night deepened, you found yourselves curled up on the outdoor sofa, wrapped in the same oversized blanket.

Harry pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “Best birthday ever.”

“Told you I’d spoil you.” You smiled against his chest.

He tilted your chin up, eyes flickering with something warm and golden. “You always do.”

And as the winter wind whispered through the trees, you knew that no matter the season, no matter the years that passed, every birthday would be yours to share—forever.

#*ੈ✩༄ my works !#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles birthday #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #celebrities x reader #celebrity fanfic #celebrity x reader

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silent-stories · 3 days ago

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𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

This takes place before the events of tbaf. (it can be read even without reading the series)

I'm not an expert on children or their nutrition, I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Noah had been coming to the café for a few months now, always with Luna in his arms. You’d exchanged a few words here and there—nothing too deep, just small talk as you handed him his coffee and asked how his day was going.

You had always seen him alone (with his daughter) or with one of his friends, often with the one who never took off his hat or the one with the mustache but never with a wife or girlfriend. And because of that, you thought she wasn't in the picture anymore.

You knew his name because you'd written it on his cup many times and he knew yours because, after some small talk, you had finally introduced yourself. You remembered him because, despite his tired eyes, he always smiled at you with a warmth that made your day just a little bit better.

Today, though, was different. You saw him as soon as he walked through the door, holding Luna in his arms. She was a little over a year old now, her tiny hands clutching his shirt as she fussed in his arms.

Noah looked more worn out than usual, his shoulders slumped as he moved toward a table, clearly trying to comfort his upset daughter.

He wore a black hoodie and dark pants, a sharp contrast to Luna, who was dressed in pink from head to toe.

You immediately pictured him, tall as hell and covered in tattoos, stooping down in a baby store, his large hands carefully selecting minuscule pink dresses and soft onesies.

Right after, you found yourself wondering why those thoughts had even crossed your mind. After all, Noah was little more than a stranger to you, someone you’d exchanged a few words with over the months but never truly gotten to know.

And in that moment, you realized something you hadn’t fully acknowledged before: you actually wanted to get to know him better. The thought caught you off guard—what was it about him that made you feel this way?

Was it the way he smiled? The way he didn't seem to want to be the center of attention by sitting in the corner despite his looks? The sweet way he spoke to his daughter? His brown eyes that immediately met yours every time he walked into The Breakfast Nook?

You found yourself hoping that, maybe one day, he might ask you to meet outside the café, away from the casual interactions. You imagined how it might feel to hear him suggest grabbing something to eat or simply talking somewhere quiet. Hoping that, just maybe, one day you’d gather the courage to do something you’d never considered before—write your number on a napkin, slipping it over to him when giving him his coffee.

As he met your gaze, he gave you a tired smile, one that was not quite reaching his eyes. You smiled back, your heart tightening a little at the sight of him, trying his best to calm Luna. She was clearly not having the best morning—her face scrunched up, her soft cries echoing around the café.

"Hey there," you greeted with your usual easy smile, one that felt like second nature by now.

Noah gave you a small nod, but it was clear that he wasn’t quite himself today. He lowered himself into a chair, gently bouncing Luna in his lap, speaking softly to her. "It’s okay, princess," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Just a little longer, I promise."

You watched for a moment, the sight of him trying to calm her tugging at your heart. You weren’t an expert on babies, but you knew that Luna was about the size most children her age should be— a year old, small but growing. And yet, in her father’s arms, she always seemed so tiny.

He pulled a bottle of milk from his bag, trying to prepare it for her in hopes of settling her down.

But as he was about to offer it to her, a man walked by, too close to their table. He bumped into Noah, knocking the bottle right out of his hand. Milk splashed across the table and onto the floor, and the man didn't even pause to apologize, brushing past as if nothing had happened.

You clenched your jaw as the man walked away, not even glancing back at the mess he had just caused. For a second, you considered calling him out, but when you looked at Noah, he didn't even seem angry, just so tired, and you thought it was better to help the man who had always been kind to you than waste your time fighting with a mean one.

He let out a long sigh, rubbing his face in frustration. Luna’s crying only seemed to get louder, and Noah, now looking more defeated, tried his best to soothe her again.

You wondered if he was truly alone in taking care of her or if, even if he wasn’t, he still felt that way. You were sure that his friends—the ones you’d seen with him a couple of times—helped him with Luna. You could tell by the way they tried to make her laugh or how they held her for a moment to give him a brief respite. But still, you knew that no matter how much support they offered, it had to be difficult for Noah if he didn’t have someone by his side every single day.

You stepped over to his table, moving quickly to clean up the mess with a cloth, giving him a reassuring smile. "It’s okay," you said softly. "It happens."

Noah looked up at you, his face apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, still trying to calm Luna.

You shook your head. “It’s really not your fault. Don’t worry about it,” you reassured him, moving efficiently to clean the floor. "That man is just an ass."

He smiled gratefully but tiredly, looking at Luna, who was still upset in his arms. “I’m just...so… exhausted,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he planted a kiss on his daughter's head, hoping that could calm her a bit.

"My Lu," he murmured, "what's the matter?"

The tenderness in his tone made your heart ache just a little. You finished wiping up the last of the mess and stood up, brushing off your hands. “I have some whole milk,” you offered, keeping your voice light. “I can refill the bottle for you, if you want. I'm not sure if she drinks any special milk though, I've never dealt with children.”

Noah looked up at you, his eyes softening. "This creature eats and drinks everything, trust me. If you bought her a whole chicken right now, she would eat the bones too. So the milk would... would be really great. If it’s not too much trouble."

"Not at all," you assured him with a smile, taking the bottle, trying to ease some of the tension in his posture. "I’ll be right back."

As you turned to go, you heard Noah speaking gently to Luna. “It’s okay, Lu,” he murmured, adjusting her in his lap. “That sweet girl is gonna bring you your milk, alright?”

You darted to the back and quickly returned with a fresh bottle of milk. As you set the bottle down in front of him, you gave him a quick smile. “I’ll grab your usual coffee too,” you said, already walking back toward the counter.

Noah looked up at you, looking genuinely relieved. “Thank you, really. I’m sorry about all this. I should have—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, honestly.”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “It’s fine, really. And I don't really know you but I think you’re doing great.” You paused for a moment, looking at him and Luna, who was finally calming down as she suckled from the bottle. “I think you’re doing your best, that’s all anyone can do.”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

When you returned with the coffee, Noah, still helping Luna drink with one hand, looked up at you with a small, exhausted but grateful smile.

“Thanks again,” he murmured as you placed the coffee in front of him. “Really.”

You waved him off. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Luna, finally satisfied, let out a soft sigh, her small hand resting against her father’s chest. She looked up at him with those big, brown eyes, her lips curling into a sleepy little smile, then she turned her head a bit and she looked at you.

You smiled at her softly and said, “Hi, baby.”

Luna kept looking at you, her eyes wide and curious, before Noah’s voice broke the moment. “Say hi, Lu.”

With a slow, little stretch of her arm, Luna reached toward you, her tiny voice barely a whisper as she moved her mouth away from her milk bottle for a moment and she said, “Hi.”

Noah chuckled softly at the sight, his smile warm as he watched the exchange. It was the sweetest thing, the simplest of gestures, but in that moment, it felt like everything.

When you were about to walk away, you couldn’t help but notice something.

His hand was wrapped in clear plastic. Your gaze lingered for a moment before you instinctively asked, “New tattoo?”

Noah blinked, looking at you in surprise. “What?”

You quickly realized what you had said and gestured toward his hand with a slight flush. “Sorry, I just saw the plastic wrap...”

He glanced down at his hand, then back up at you, his lips curling into a small smile. “Oh, yeah. New tattoo. Got it yesterday. I’ve been wanting to do it since she was born, but I never really found the right time.”

He shifted his hand a little, turning it toward you so you could get a better look. There, on the back of his hand, was a small, black tattoo: a moon.

You stared at it for a moment. “Luna means moon. Makes sense,” you said softly. “That’s sweet.”

He looked at the tattoo for a moment, then back at you, his expression turning softer. “I wanted her to know how much she means to me,” he said. “Even though she’s too little to understand right now… I want her to have something that reminds her of that. Always.”

You could hear the weight in his words, and the way he looked at Luna, still quietly drinking her milk, only made it more apparent just how deeply he felt for her. There was so much love in him, in the way he looked at her daughter, in the way he held her against his chest, a kind of tenderness that you noticed before, but now it seemed impossible to miss now.

“She’ll understand, eventually,” you said gently. “And she’ll always have this to remember how much she means to you.”

Noah gave you a faint smile, looking down at Luna, his hand resting protectively on her tiny head. “Yeah. I hope so.”

You stood there for a moment observing the scene, almost forgetting that you were working and that it was Grace's day off and you couldn't waste time.

Finally, you broke the quiet. “It’s beautiful, really” you said. “And she’ll love it when she’s old enough to understand.”

He looked at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes held a kind of warmth that made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, "for everything."

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back one more time. Noah was focused on Luna again, his fingers gently brushing her hair as she rested in his arms and he kissed the top of her head.

“Dada,” Luna mumbled, her voice quiet but clear as she nestled deeper into Noah’s chest.

“Yeah?” Noah answered, his lips twitching into a tired smile.

Luna’s tiny fingers curled around his shirt again as she blinked up at him, “Dada.”

Noah let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead. “That’s right, baby,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

The moment was so tender that you had to look away, giving them their space.

You adored their little family.

And you didn’t know then that one day, you’d be part of it too.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

#short lil thing because i miss them #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fluff #tbaf #to build a family #x reader #dad! noah sebastian

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witchywithwhiskey · 13 hours ago

Note

Alright, Molly, let’s try this again ❤️

What if I say Lloyd Hansen and 1-800-Cupid? 😌 Does that strike your fancy?

be my cupid

pairing: boyfriend!lloyd hansen x female reader

summary: when your boyfriend is away on a work trip for valentine's day, you have a plan to make it special. but then he surprises you with an even more exciting present that you weren't expecting.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, light bdsm, light dom/sub, sir kink, praise kink, finger sucking, aftercare, pet names, established relationship, some insecurity from reader and reassurance from lloyd

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i'm so happy you sent in the "1-800-Cupid" prompt!! i was hoping someone would because it seemed so fun. i really like the idea i came up with for this one—and i think it works perfectly with lloyd! thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

“Thank you for calling 1-800-Cupid,” you trilled into the phone, unable to bite back the smile that had spread across your face when you saw the name Lloyd Hansen appear on the screen. “I’m your personal cupid, here to connect you with your true love.”

“My ‘true love’?” The familiar voice on the other end of the line scoffed with an ungentlemanly snort.

You could practically hear the whiskers of his mustache twitch as his mouth twisted into a playful sneer. Indignantly, you sat up in your bed.

“Don’t you dare scoff at me, Lloyd Hansen,” you scolded, even going so far as to give your phone a little glare when you knew there was no way for the man on the other end to actually see your expression. After all, you were sitting in your bed, alone in your apartment, while he was half a world away on some business trip.

“I’m sorry, cupcake, I’m sorry,” Lloyd said soothingly, managing to sound genuinely contrite and teasingly playful all at the same time.

You rolled your eyes with affection—it was a feat only Lloyd could manage. But it did the trick and you settled back into the pillows on your bed, playing with the edge of your sweater while you huffed a sigh.

It took you a moment to get back into character, glancing at the short script you’d prepared as part of the surprise you’d planned.

“Now, why are you calling today, sir?” you asked in your best professionally cheerful customer service voice.

“Well, I found a mysterious card in my jacket, with your number on it,” Lloyd said, mirth filling his tone even as he tried to play along. “You don’t think my girlfriend could’ve had something to do with it, do you? D’you think she’s trying to get rid of me?”

It took all your effort to stifle a hopeless giggle. You could always count on Lloyd to make you laugh, even when you were sad about the fact that he wasn’t there with you.

It was your first Valentine’s Day together, but he’d had to go away on a work trip, and you’d come up with a little plan to make the holiday special when you weren’t able to be together. But he kept distracting you.

You took a moment to collect yourself, Lloyd waiting patiently on the other end of the line, seemingly just happy to be on the phone with you, which made you all the more eager to get on with your plan.

“I don’t know anything about that…” you said primly, trying to keep your mouth from curving into a smile and utterly failing. So you moved on, blurting out the next part of your script. “Would you like me to send a photo of the true love you’ve been matched with, sir?”

“You keep calling me sir, sunshine, and you’re going to be getting a photo of my hard dick,” Lloyd muttered, sounding like he was palming the bulge in his pants already.

Your breath hitched in your throat, warmth cascading down through your body and settling heavily between your thighs, wetness beginning to gather in your panties. It was on the tip of your tongue to beg him to send the photo, so you’d have something to touch yourself to when he inevitably needed to go and attend to the work that had taken him out of the country.

But you shook yourself and persevered with your plan. “Lloyd,” you admonished, your voice a little breathy despite your best efforts. “Do you want the photo or not?”

“Sure, princess, send me the photo,” he said. Affection was clear in his tone, which made you soften just a bit.

Pulling the phone away from your ear, you tapped on the screen until you pulled up the photos you’d had taken in a boudoir photoshoot. They were Valentine’s Day themed, with your body swathed in red and white lingerie, surrounded by rose petals and soft silk sheets. In your hands, you held a pink, plastic bow and arrow, making you look like a particularly sexy cupid.

Biting back a grin and a sound of excitement, you sent your favorite of the photos to Lloyd, then quickly replaced your phone against your ear, holding your breath while you waited with eager anticipation for his reaction.

You were rewarded a few seconds later with a choked groan and a muttered curse from your boyfriend. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought he was in pain, but then his lust-soaked voice filled your ears.

“Fuck, angel, look at you,” he cooed down the line, sending little shivers of delight racing beneath your skin. “You look so fucking gorgeous—so perfect and pretty and…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into another restrained groan, like he was biting his hand to muffle the sound. “Is this all for me? Is this my Valentine’s Day present, sweets?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, almost shyly, unable to wipe the grin off your face. The rest of your words left you in a rush of excitement. “Do you like it? I wanted to give you something you’d like even though you’re on your work trip.”

“I love it, buttercup,” Lloyd purred.

His deep voice made you shiver with a desire that you knew was going to go unslaked until your boyfriend got home. No matter how much phone sex the two of you had, it was never quite as satisfying as having Lloyd with you in person, bending you over and taking you hard and deep…

Lloyd kept talking then, distracting you from your dirty thoughts with a surprise of his own.

“I got you something, too, pumpkin. Open your door.”

Excitement shot through your body and you bounced eagerly off your bed. You didn’t think much of his words, it wasn’t uncommon for Lloyd to send you little presents while he was on his work trips—coffee and pastries delivered to your door in the mornings to help you start your day, some jewelry or a book in the evenings because he was thinking of you.

“Oohh, did you get me flowers, Lloyd Hansen?” you chattered happily, padding through your apartment to the front door. “Some chocolates? One of those giant stuffed teddy bears?” You paused, glancing around your cramped and cozy space, wondering where you would even put a giant teddy bear.

Your boyfriend just chuckled softly on the other end of the line, not giving anything away. Your excitement to know what he’d gotten you rushed back in, and you turned to the door again, eager to see what he’d sent you.

Flinging open the front door of your apartment, you were stunned to find not flowers or chocolates or a teddy bear, but Lloyd Hansem himself. He wore a familiar smirk on his handsome face, his blue eyes glittering with mischief in the fluorescent lights of the hallway, his phone still held up to his ear.

“LLOYD!” you screamed, your phone slipping from your fingers and tumbling loudly to the floor as you launched yourself at your boyfriend. “You’re here.” The words came out much softer as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar, spicy scent of his cologne.

“Did you really think I’d let you spend our first Valentine’s Day alone?” he teased you playfully, one of his arms banding around your back while his other hand cupped the back of your head, holding you tightly against his chest. He walked you backward into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you, muffin.”

His words filled your heart with joy, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, clinging to his big, strong form while he slowly twirled the two of you around, like you were dancing to a silent slow song. You were so happy, it took you a moment for reality to crash back down around you.

“But I wasn’t expecting you,” you whined into Lloyd’s neck, remembering that your face was entirely bare of makeup and you were wearing the same thing you’d had on all week—a pair of leggings and one of Lloyd’s shirts, even though his cologne had long since worn off. “I’m not pretty right now,” you mumbled, hiding your face against Lloyd’s throat.

Lloyd gently eased you away from his body, having to pry your clinging arms loose, so he could rake his eyes over your bare face. He smiled, his mustache twitching a little, and his blue eyes sparkled with nothing but genuine affection.

“You’re gorgeous just like this, pretty girl,” he cooed, ducking forward and pressing a kiss to your lips. Then he brushed kisses to your cheeks and forehead, even dropping a kiss to the tip of your nose, making you giggle. “You make a very sexy cupid, but you’re always my gorgeous girl.”

“Thank you, Lloyd,” you said on a soft sigh of contentment, dragging him in for a proper kiss.

His mustache tickled your upper lip in the way that you’d grown to crave, and you moaned at the familiar, delicious taste of your boyfriend. Pulling him even closer with your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, you kissed him harder, pouring all the affection and happiness you felt about having him home into the way your mouth moved against his.

Kissing you back just as fervently, Lloyd walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall in your living room. He crowded in around you, pinning you to the wall with his big, hard body, his bulge jutting into your belly while he deepened the kiss, coaxing a burning inferno of need to life within you.

Before long, you were pushing impatiently at his jacket, wordlessly whining for him to take it off. Lloyd was only too happy to oblige, shedding the garment and tugging his shirt over his head, his mouth finding yours again for another hot, searing kiss.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your leggings, shoving them down over your hips and thighs so you could kick them off. Then his hands came up to cup your face, cradling your head while he licked into your mouth, fucking you with his tongue until you were whimpering, desperately needing him to fill another of your holes.

Quickly, Lloyd toed out of his shoes and stripped off his pants, leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs, while you still wore a sweater and your panties. Glancing down at your shirt before he went back to kissing you, Lloyd’s hands pushed beneath your sweater, his fingers finding the soft flesh of your tits and kneading until you were breaking away to moan.

“Is this my shirt?” Lloyd asked in a low, rumbling voice that was soaked with lust and a little hint of humor. He pressed hungry, nipping kisses along your jaw, pinching your nipples and making you squirm between his hard, unyielding body and the wall at your back.

“Yeah,” you answered on a gasp. “I missed you,” you confessed, your hands curling around his bare shoulders, clinging to the muscles bunching beneath his warm skin while your head tipped back against the wall and you let out a low, keening whine.

Lloyd made a gruff sound in the back of his throat, pulling away so he could look you in the eye. Your head was still tipped back, though, so he cupped your jaw in his hand and tilted it forward, his thumb running along your plump lower lip.

You took the tip into your mouth and nipped playfully before sucking on Lloyd’s thumb, staring up at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes. You watched while his gaze darkened, his pupils blowing wide with a lustful hunger that made your body clench tight with anticipation.

“I missed you too, baby cakes,” he rumbled, ducking his head to brush a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His mustache tickled and you giggled, turning your head and letting his thumb fall from your lips so you could kiss your boyfriend.

The kiss quickly turned heated again and it felt like both of you suddenly remembered how long it had been since you’d been joined together in the most primal way possible. There was an urgency in your movements as you impatiently tugged your boyfriend’s boxer briefs down, palming his cock while he tugged your sweater off and shoved your panties down your legs.

“Lloyd, please, I need you,” you gasped, wrenching your lips from his to suck in some much-needed air. The fingers of your free hand curled in the hair at the back of his head, clinging to him while stroked his cock, your thigh lifting and trying to curl around his hip. “Need your cock inside me, need you to fill me up, sir, please.”

“Fuck, alright, alright, lollipop—you want my cock, you’ll get it,” Lloyd rumbled, his hand grabbing your raised thigh and lifting it higher. His fingers dug into your plush softness while he hooked it around his hip and you guided his cock to your entrance. “Take it, honey bee, take your man’s cock.”

You sank down on Lloyd’s cock while he pressed into you, filling you up in one smooth stroke that had your head falling back against the wall and a filthy moan spilling from your lips. You weren’t quite wet enough to take him easily, but you enjoyed the slight burn and the ache of being stretched around his hard length too much to complain.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll face, looking so fucking blissed out on my cock,” Lloyd said on a grunt, pulling out slightly and pushing in again, making you both moan. “I could get used to this—coming home to you and filling your cunt while your body clings to me, sucking me deeper.”

“Yes, yes, please, sir, I want that,” you babbled, the words falling from your lips and finding you did want it. You wanted Lloyd coming home to you every day, fucking you over the nearest surface and reminding you who you belonged to every night. “I want you filling me every day, fucking me, taking what’s yours.”

Lloyd chuckled, the sound deliciously sinful while he rocked into your body, fucking you against the wall of your apartment ruthlessly. All you could do was cling to him, your fingers curling in his hair, nails digging into the back of his neck while you held on for the ride.

“You want me to take what’s mine, sweet pea? Are you mine, sweet girl?” he teased mercilessly, fucking you even harder.

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes, you were his, but then Lloyd changed the angle of his hips. The base of his cock rubbed meanly against your clit with every thrust and you cried out loudly, your back arching away from the wall and your hips bearing down on his cock as you barreled toward your release.

“Lloyd,” you gasped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, cutie, cum for me,” Lloyd urged, fucking you in hard thrusts, pausing between each to grind against your clit “Be a good girl and show me you’re mine, honey pie—cum all over my cock.”

Between his commanding words and the relentless grinding of his hips, his cock buried to the hilt in your soaking wet pussy, it was too much. Your release crashed over you, making you scream in pleasure while you came on Lloyd’s cock, your inner walls clenching hard enough around him to make him grunt.

With a few more short, hard thrusts, Lloyd followed you over the edge, burying his face in your neck and muffling a loud groan against your skin as he spilled inside you. Your pussy squeezed every last drop of cum from his length, the two of you collapsing against the wall at your back as you caught your breath and rode out the aftershocks of your releases.

Once you recovered enough to move, the two of you stumbled down the hall toward your bedroom, taking a quick detour to the bathroom to clean up before tumbling into bed together. Lloyd had snagged his shirt from where he’d dropped in your living room and he pulled it over your head, swaddling you in his scent before pulling you close to cuddle.

Your boyfriend lay on his back, your body splayed across his chest, your ear pressed to his sternum while you listened to the steady beat of his heart. After a short time of enjoying each other’s presence, you raised your head, your eyes greedily raking over Lloyd’s handsome face while your fingers played idly with his mustache.

“Thank you for cutting your trip short,” you murmured softly, your eyes fixed on Lloyd’s mouth, watching the corners flicker with a smile. “I really didn’t expect you to that just for Valentine’s Day.”

“I did it for you, sweetheart,” Lloyd purred, his fingers closing around your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips, pressing kisses to the pads of each one until you looked up into his eyes. His gaze was filled with so much affection, it made your breath catch in your throat. He murmured, “I love you.”

It was the first time either of you had said those words and you were surprised by the rush of emotion that flooded your heart when you heard them. Tears pricked at your eyes and you quickly dashed them away.

“I love you, too, Lloyd,” you murmured, pulling your hand away from his mouth so you could replace it with your lips. You kissed him hard, and he did the same, banding an arm around your lower back and cradling your head while he rolled on top of you.

When he started kissing down your neck, you tipped your head to the side and let out a delighted giggle at the way his mustache tickled your skin. You felt like you were bubbling with happiness, and you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth.

“So I guess I really did match you with your true love, didn’t I?” you teased playfully, enjoying the way Lloyd laughed against your skin, making your pulse pump harder through your body. “Another satisfied cupid customer,” you joked, your legs wrapping around Lloyd’s hips and squirming beneath his hardening cock.

“Oh I’m very satisfied,” Lloyd said, lifting up to capture your lips in another kiss. His hips rocked between your thighs, grinding his cock against your soft pussy, making both of you moan at the pleasurable slide of your bodies. “You can be my cupid anytime, sugar pie, as long as you’re the one I end up with.”

“Always,” you purred, clinging to Lloyd while he slid inside you again. Then he was stealing your breath with another kiss, fucking you in slow strokes, savoring your body and murmuring his love against your lips.

All told, it was the first of many happy Valentine’s Days with your boyfriend—and future husband—Lloyd Hansen.

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts #witchywithwhiskeywork #lauratang

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galaxy-stardust · 14 hours ago

Text

Simon Ghost Riley x you

It's your birthday

You should have been happy today. Your friends and family had gathered to celebrate your birthday, there were smiles, laughter, and a cake with your name on it. But no matter how much you tried to enjoy the moment, there was an ache in your chest, a shadow lingering at the back of your mind.

Simon wasn’t here.

You knew he had a mission. You knew his work wasn’t something he could just walk away from, even for your birthday. But that didn’t make the empty space beside you feel any less cold.

Throughout the day, you kept checking your phone, hoping for a message—something. But the screen stayed dark, and with every passing hour, the heaviness in your heart grew.

By the time you said your goodbyes and stepped into your empty home, exhaustion and disappointment weighed you down. You dropped your keys on the table with a sigh, kicking off your shoes, ready to just crawl into bed and forget this day even happened.

But then you noticed something.

The lights were dimmed, and there was a soft glow flickering from the living room. Your heart skipped a beat as you took slow steps forward, eyes widening at the sight before you.

Candles. A bottle of wine. And on the coffee table—a small black box with a note resting on top.

Your hands trembled as you picked up the folded paper, recognizing Simon’s handwriting instantly.

"Happy Birthday, love. Sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate with you. But turn around—I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Your breath caught as you turned sharply—only to be met with the sight of Simon, standing in the doorway, his gear still on, his mask pulled up just enough to show the smirk playing on his lips.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

For a second, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The weight of the day, the longing, the disappointment—it all melted away in an instant.

And then you were in his arms.

Simon caught you with ease, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest. His scent, his warmth, the solid feel of him—it was all so overwhelming that you barely noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

“You came home,” you whispered against his shoulder, gripping onto him like he might disappear.

“Told you I wouldn’t miss your birthday,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Had to pull a few strings, but I’m here now.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. “Best birthday present ever.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dark with something deeper, something possessive. “That’s not your present, love.”

Your breath hitched as he reached for the small box on the table, pressing it into your hands.

“Open it.”

With shaky fingers, you lifted the lid, revealing a delicate silver necklace—a small charm in the shape of a skull hanging from the chain.

Your eyes flickered up to his, your heart pounding. “Simon…”

“It’s mine,” he murmured, taking the necklace from the box and moving behind you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck. “So even when I’m not here, you’ve got a piece of me with you.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time, they were from something warm, something overwhelming.

You turned back to him, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss. Simon groaned against your lips, his arms tightening around you, as if he needed you just as much as you needed him.

“You gonna cry, love?” he teased against your mouth, his voice rough, amused.

You sniffled, laughing softly. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips over yours again. “Good. Means I did something right.”

And as he led you to the couch, pulling you into his lap, you knew that no matter how far away he had been, no matter how long the distance—Simon Riley would always find his way back to you.

#cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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ficsbyrike · 1 day ago

Text

Your Possessiveness Will be the Death of Me

pairing: caleb x reader

TW: graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, toxic relationships

Summery: caleb won’t let you go to the hospital

Word count: 3,833

Notes: I promised someone that my next Caleb fanfic would be fluff but apparently I am incapable of writing anything happy 😭😭 might be a little ooc

A wanderer. Claws. The stinging feeling on your abdomen. The rest was a blur.

The city had recently become more dangerous with an increase of wanderer sightings. You thought—foolishly—that because of your hunter training, this wouldn’t affect you in any significant way. More on site work, perhaps, but nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It never occurred to you that you could become a victim of a wanderer yourself.

You had been walking down the street when out of nowhere, in a cruel sneak attack, a wanderer had jumped out and ambushed you. Rendered defenseless for a few moments, it was able to leave a pretty nasty gash on your abdomen before it was promptly dealt with.

It stung badly.

It felt as if the sky was very low. It was cold as shit out. You could see your hot breath rise up in puffs of white through the inky black sky, and as if the universe conspired to spite you even more, it had begun snowing.

Your blood glistened brightly in the neon lights of the city.

It was around 2:30 in the morning. You have to be up early tomorrow. God…

You raked your brain for a moment. The warm blood seeping between your fingers made it hard to focus.

Linkon Hospital was too far away for you to walk to without collapsing half way through. And, in some cruel joke, your phone had been smashed on the pavement while you were fighting the wanderer so there was no way you could call anyone for help.

You only had one option. But it was your last resort.

Caleb lived close by, but he didn’t want to see you. It wasn’t just a hunch or a feeling, you knew. Although he didn’t outright say it, you ended on pretty bad terms last time you saw each other. Regrettable words were thrown, tears were shed. Even though Caleb tried to explain himself—why he left, why he lied about being dead—you called the conversation there, saying you weren’t in the mood to fight anymore. Since then, Caleb has sent you countless text messages in hopes of staying in touch. At first, he would apologize continuously. Then, when he perhaps realized that his attempts were futile, he resorted to simply sending short messages about how his day went, what interesting things he saw today, and good morning good night texts. You pridefully ignored all of the messages. They angered you, even. You felt as if he was trying to guilt you into forgiving him by using his status as a long-time best friend and pretending like nothing was wrong.

He knows what he did. And you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

With those thoughts in mind, you promptly blocked his number until further notice. Although sometimes you wondered whether he was still sending you messages despite knowing they weren’t getting through to you.

If you showed up at his door now, would he turn you away? Even if he was angry at you, he wouldn’t turn away a shivering, injured woman. Right? But even if he didn’t, it would be so awkward to confront the issue with him again. Perhaps you just won’t say anything unless he brings it up himself. Still, he could simply shut the door in your face and leave you on the street. And he had every right to do so, with the way you’ve been treating him. You probably would have done the same in his situation. Probably.

Swallowing your last bit of pride, you began shuffling over to Caleb’s residence, your hand pressed tightly against the fresh wound. He had sent you his new address during one of his routinely text messages, and you had unconsciously memorized it because it was a part of town you always passed by to get to the train station.

With every step you took, you felt pressure in your wound. It would open up again and again and fresh blood would seep in between your fingers. This only made you more antsy and you felt your heart speed up.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long walk, you finally stood at the front door of Caleb’s house. It was cute. A townhouse surrounded by similar looking buildings in the middle of the city. Even though the others had distinctions about them—flower beds hanging out windows, chairs and fairy lights dotting the balconies—Caleb’s house was the one with the least character. It stood there, gray with no lights in any of the windows, as if he had only just moved in a few days ago.

You brought your hand up to knock on the door, but then you hesitated. You were angry at him, but that was fine because you knew that sooner or later you would forgive him. But you couldn’t have the same assurance that he would forgive you.

You shook your head, eracing the image of Caleb’s darkened eyes from your mind, and knocked.

Whatever happens happens.

For a few moments, there was silence. It would only be natural if he had gone to sleep, considering the deep hours of the night. But then, to your surprise, you heard the noise of shuffling coming from the inside, followed by another short silence. Just as you thought that he was ignoring you, the door swung open, revealing Caleb’s tall frame in the doorway.

He was a bit paler since the last time you saw him. And a bit thinner too. You guessed it was just in your nature to worry about him, as you had done so many times in the past.

It was still cold as shit out. Your thin hunter uniform is doing little to protect you from the chilly air. But somehow, your skin still felt hot. Snowflakes still slowly glided down into your hair.

You cleared your throat, “Caleb.”

Just as the words had left your mouth, you wished for the earth below you to open up and swallow you whole. You come to his front door in the middle of the night looking like hell—exhausted, dirty, blood pouring out of your side and your nose—and the only word you can manage is his name? Were you stupid?

You scanned Caleb’s eyes for any emotions. Was he angry? Or at least disappointed in you?

He didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze falling onto your wound. You shifted self consciously.

“What happened to you?”

His question caught you off guard, prompting you to look up at him again.

“I got into a fight.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit,” he said, and you sighed.

Surely this was the same Caleb you knew. He wouldn’t just leave you out here.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

You swiftly shake your head.

“It's minor. I’m not crippled. I’ll live,” you lie through your teeth, “can I crash at your place? I’ll be out of your hair by morning. It’s really cold out here.”

You dragged your one of your hands against the bottom of your nose, smudging the blood pooling there.

Caleb stepped aside, a familiar smirk decorating his face, “be my guest.”

***

Caleb’s residence was just as barren inside as it was outside. Only the bare necessities scattered his living room. But it was warm.

You tried taking off your shoes, but with your wound, it was a little hard to do. Once Caleb saw you struggling, he quickly leaned down and helped you.

“Thanks. Do you by chance have any disinfectant? And some gauze?”

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”

“No. It seriously doesn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me missy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Go sit on the couch.”

You did as he commanded, stumbling over to the couch before sitting down. Momentarily, there was the sound of running water and soon enough, Caleb came back with a clean, wet towel. He tried to gently lift up your shirt, but your hand stopped him.

“I’m fine. Really. Can I sleep on your couch? I’m really tired.”

Caleb’s worried eyes met yours, “you are not fine. You’re bleeding all over my floor. Stop being so stubborn and work with me here, yeah?”

He spoke in that same friendly voice, but it was obvious that there was concern in his expression.

You gently let go of his wrist with some hesitation, biting your bottom lip as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the couch next to him. Your wound was now completely exposed, along with your bare stomach. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but just having the wound out in the open was enough to put you on edge.

He inspected your injury. His brow furrowed before he brought the damp towel to your skin. You hissed and recoiled slightly. Caleb flinched, but held the towel gently in place.

“Sorry pipsqueak. It’s gonna hurt no matter what. Just… squeeze my arm if it gets too much.”

You didn’t say anything.

Caleb’s touch was warm. You felt his soft fingers on the tender skin of your side. It almost made you shiver.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? Any later, and you would’ve bled out on the goddamn street,” he murmurs, and for a moment, you didn't know how to reply.

“My phone broke,” You say dumbly.

Then there was silence for a few moments. It was quiet. The only sound was his steady breathing and the clock ticking as the seconds slipped by.

“Are you angry?” You ask when he didn’t say anything.

Caleb shook his head, “no. You have every right to want to avoid me,” he sighed, “I just wish I wasn’t your last option.”

Silence again. Tik-tok… tik-tok…

“I thought you might turn me away,” you finally admitted.

“You know I wouldn’t let you bleed out on my doorstep. No matter how angry I get at you.”

“No, I don’t know that,” you whisper, “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore…”

Caleb finally looks up at you, a hint of hurt betrayed in his eyes, “Do you think… you think I changed that much?”

“I don’t know. But the Caleb I knew would never pretend to be dead for a whole year, leaving me by myself. So, yeah… I guess I don’t really know you anymore.”

“You had other people to turn to for help.”

“Sure. But in the end, who’s taking care of me?”

Caleb sighs again and turns back to your wound. Although he is trying to seem preoccupied, you can tell that he has a lot on his mind.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” he finally says, “for now, let’s take care of your wound, yeah? The bleeding hasn’t stopped yet. I’ll need some water to wipe you down and see how deep your injury really is. Let me take you to the bathroom. It’ll be easier to do this there.”

Caleb helps you up. Then, he helps you walk over to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your upper torso firmly but gently. Then, when he’s sure that you are able to stand upright on your own, he meticulously picks out the temperature of the water, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

He soaks the towel under the thin stream of water. Your old blood dyes the sink red, leaving a gruesome sight.

You feel dizzy from the blood loss. And slightly sleepy too. You grab onto the edge of the skin in an attempt to pull yourself together. The dim, buzzing light and the splashing of water continuously lull you to sleep.

Finally, when Caleb decided that he got most of the blood out from the towel, he wrings it, and brings it up to your wound again.

You take a sharp breath, colorful curses spilling out of your mouth unchecked, “haah… Caleb…”

He gently wipes away at the edges of the wound, trying hard to be as tender as possible. Despite this, he cleans up your wound with practiced efficiency leaving you to wonder how many times he has patched himself up during dark nights like these.

“You’re doing well,” Caleb says, running the towel under clean water again.

The cycle repeats a few times. By the time Caleb deems that he had cleaned the wound thoroughly enough, you are standing there, subtly trembling in pain. The sink, the floor, and both yours and Caleb’s hands are covered in your blood. You hope that it looks worse than it actually is.

“How is it?” You ask finally.

Caleb rustles through one of the storage compartments, and takes out fresh white gauze. However, your blood on his hands stains it as soon as he touches the bandages.

“It’s pretty deep. You’ll need to take it easy for a while,” he says.

Gritting your teeth as he wraps the gauze around your abdomen, you hold your breath.

“Relax,” Caleb utters, “the worst part is over.”

He wraps the gauze around you a few more times before securing it with a little bow at the end.

“There. Good as new.”

He lets out a sharp sigh, dusting his hands off like a mechanic, and straightens out to look at you again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. But I’m worried. Should I go to the hospital?”

“No need. I’m here to take care of you, right?”

You nod.

You didn’t know what came over you then, but your body acted faster than you could think. You placed your hands on either side of his face and planted a small kiss on the edge of his lips.

He seemed stunned for a minute.

“You know I missed you, right?” You whisper, your fingers gently running through his raven hair.

“I thought you hated me,” he breaths.

“I do. But I can do both at the same time. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I missed you too.”

“I hope you never leave again. Because I won’t forgive you a second time.”

Caleb’s eyes flicker before he leans in closer and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

God, it was as if you were made for each other.

All of these years of yearning to the most recent worries that plagued your mind came bubbling up to the surface until they finally exploded like a volcano.

He wraps his arms around you. The need for him to be closer to you became stronger, to the point where it was almost animalistic. Your exhales became his inhales as he pushed you up against the skin, deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled within his hair, and his hands slowly mapped out the bare skin of your back. You couldn’t help but shiver.

You hated him so much. But God… it was impossible to stay away. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing that nothing good was going to come out of this. Maybe he would hurt you again. Maybe you were stupid to come running back to him at the first sign of affection. But that didn’t matter at this moment. Right now, you only knew him. He was your world. And you were his.

“Wait, wait. Caleb,” you gasp suddenly, “fuck.”

Caleb immediately steps back as if he was burned.

“What’s wrong?”

You look down at your wound. It was still bleeding. A faint dark red color peaked out from behind the bandages, a signal to it probably opening up again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. It’s very late. We’re both not in our right mind,” you say, heart still hammering in your chest.

Caleb hesitantly nodded. His face and t-shirt was smudged with the blood that undoubtedly came from your hands.

“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” you say again.

A dull throb pulsed over where your wound was, and although you trust that Caleb did a good job of cleaning it, you knew that he wasn’t a medical professional. Maybe you needed stitches. It would be a shame if you bled out in Caleb’s apartment for no reason other than your own carelessness.

“Damn it,” He curses, “I should’ve been more careful, you’ll bleed through these bandages too.” Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I’ll be honest, I’m not really comfortable with letting you out of my sight just yet. I just… just let me try to add a few more layers of gauze, yeah? And if that doesn’t work, we’ll figure things out from there.”

Caleb takes out more gauze and wraps it around your lower torso again, a bit more tighter this time. He steps back to inspect how much of the gauze has already been bled through, his brow furrowing.

“Damn it…” he mutters.

You put your hand on his arm to stop his continuous fidgeting, “Caleb. Calm down.”

“You’re right. No… I just… You’re bleeding. How are you still bleeding? I’ve never seen you be this chill about an injury before. You remember when you were learning how to ride a bike when we were kids? You would cry so hard when you so much as scraped your knee against the pavement and would run to grandma so she could comfort you.”

“I remember. You were not the best teacher. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten my front teeth knocked out.”

“You were sensitive as a kid.”

“I grew out of it.”

“Apparently.”

There was another pause. It seemed that every time you and Caleb found a common ground, there was something that would always bring you back and remind you that everything had changed. He was not the reckless little boy from your childhood that you remember. And, in turn, you were not the sensitive little girl that he remembers.

When did everything become so different?

Caleb’s apartment suddenly became cold again.

Caleb shook his head before speaking, “never mind. Have you had dinner? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now.”

There was a beat of silence again, as if Caleb was choosing his words carefully, “not even rice? Or maybe some broth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’ll order you something. Whatever you want.”

***

Caleb lended you one of his shirts since yours was stained with blood.

As promised, he ordered you takeout from a place that worked late and forced you to eat dinner. Even though you felt a little sick, you still made yourself eat.

He didn’t have a dinner table, so you sat on the couch while Caleb fed you.

“Why don’t you have a dinner table?” You inquire, “haven’t you moved in months ago?”

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

It was nice to catch up with him, even though it was a little awkward at times. You would talk for a few minutes before falling into silence again. Then someone would say something and the conversation would strike up again.

No one mentioned the kiss from earlier.

The familiar and slightly domestic atmosphere was almost enough to make you forget your previous worries. Almost.

There was a slight buzzing in your head, and then a wave of dizziness overcame you, harder than before.

You calmly, although wobbly, got up from the couch, and looked down at Caleb.

“Caleb, take me to the hospital.”

Caleb followed you up, “Hold on. Wait.”

You started walking towards the door, feeling like you could collapse at any moment. Caleb beat you to the front door, blocking it with his body.

“You’re not in the condition to go anywhere. Look at you. You can barely stand!”

“Then you take me!”

“Listen. I’ll take care of everything. You can’t go anywhere, even with my help.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me on this, pipsqueak,” He grabbed your arm a little more forcefully then he intended, “You’re not leaving in this state. No one will take better care of you than me.”

You bite at your bottom lip. What has gotten into him? Was he really just willing to let you bleed out just because he didn’t want you to leave?

Mustering up your last bit of courage and strength, you forcefully tug back on your arm that Caleb was holding, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. The plan was to get around him when he was caught off guard, however, when you retreated your arm in such a sudden motion, the muscles on your abdomen contracted, causing you to shudder in pain.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to put up a fight any further.

“Damn it, pipsqueak. I told you not to argue with me on this.”

Caleb gently helped you up, not minding your little stunt. He helped carry you to his room, tucking you into bed, bringing the covers all the way up to your chin even though you were hot. His scent enveloped you.

He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, “you know I only want what’s best for you.”

You nod.

You realized that perhaps you should’ve seen this coming from the very beginning. The way he clung on to you when you first came, the way he never let you out of your sight. He wouldn’t let you go now. No matter how much you struggled against him. And you couldn’t say that you hated the idea. This was the person you loved the most. The person who knew you best. The person who would take care of you better than anyone.

He was the person you turned to at the end of the day.

Caleb respectfully sat down on the floor across from you, resting his head on the edge of his bed. Lost in thought, his fingers met yours. Then he brought them up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss.

“I’m mad about you,” he whispers, “I think I’ll die if you ever continue to ignore me like you did.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Sleep tight, pipsqueak.”

It was four in the morning and the door was closed and Caleb's breathing gradually evened out. The light sound of cars passing on the street below was the only sound. In the haziness of the deep hours of the night, you were back in grandma’s house for a moment. You had snuck into Caleb's room again because you were scared of the sound of cars outside and the shadows on the wall of your room.

The pain in your side is unbearably excruciating. You carefully peel the blanket up to see Caleb’s sheets covered in blood. Your shirt had completely soaked through, and there was no doubt that your gauze had done little to prevent the blood flow. You felt unbearably hot, and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

Without thinking much further, you covered yourself with Caleb’s blanket and turned to the side, scumming to deep sleep shortly after.

At least you were with the person who knows you best.

At least you were with the person who loves you the most.

Masterlist

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narrycherries · 3 days ago

Text

ivy: magnificently cursed

she can’t seem to ignore him and he’s rather observant of her..

(part 5)

masterlist / ivy series

word count: 11.4k

warnings/tags: harry x fem oc, angst, alcohol use, enemies to lovers

[a/n: hi before you again I just want to say I hope this isn’t repetitive, a good portion of the content of this series will happen at the same few locations, so just be patient with me lol, slow burn is coming to an end soon I promise! enjoy xx]

..Sometimes I just want to scream and scream until my lungs explode. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! He has been nothing but an ass to me, even when I try to thank him for helping me he acts like he hates me. What did I ever do to him? Am I losing my mind? Was there something that happened that I can't recall? And my stupid heart won’t stop gushing over him. What is wrong with me! Am I literally losing control of my mind? And to think that I went out of my way to be nice to him.. just to have it thrown back in my face? I’m willing to bet that nobody hates anyone as much as he hates me..

A frustrated huff flew past Ivy’s lips as she finished writing the final line of her diary entry for the day. She always tried her best to write her feelings and thoughts down so that her brain would be less congested. Today’s session lasted about twenty minutes as she quickly jotted down her conflicting thoughts regarding a certain person - a person she hadn’t seen in a couple of weeks who just so happened to take up every available space in her mind. She slammed the journal shut and shoved it back into the drawer, not wanting it to be left out in the open. She never thought Emma would go through her things, it was just a personal preference she had - keep it hidden.

Ivy quickly got dressed after checking the time. It was Friday evening and she had something big planned for the night. She wasn’t going out on a date or going to dinner with Emma, she was doing something for herself and by herself. She checked her reflection, smiling as she thought she looked rather happy - despite being so angry as she scribbled words into the diary just minutes ago. Before long, she was out of the house and in her car, headed for the destination she was excited to arrive at.

There was a bit of nervousness building in her stomach as she gripped the wheel and anticipated what was going to happen. She tried to remain calm and remind herself this wasn’t the first time she’s doing this. She had a little bit of experience with the process, and she already knew the end results were well worth the anxiety. The music softly buzzed in the car as she drove to the tattoo shop. She didn’t want to overwhelm her mind with loud noise, she had to save all her energy for sitting through the tattoo.

Emma was excited that she was getting a new one, but she was unable to accompany her tonight since she had made plans with Niall. Ivy wasn’t bothered by having to go alone, she actually preferred it that way. With her previous tattoos, she just sat in silence as the artist did their job with precision and focus. She thought that talking would be too distracting.

A bright smile grew on her lips as she walked up to the door of the shop, the bright green open sign nearly blinding her. The bell jingled above the door, making her glance up for just a second. Zayn had just walked into the lobby when she came in, so he greeted her with a quick hug.

“How’ve you been?” He hadn’t seen her since their trip ended.

“I’ve been pretty good. And you?” She asked as he sat down at the desk to verify her appointment details.

“Decent, decent. Been having a lot of practices this week for the show tomorrow, so m’a bit tired.”

She laughed gently. “Not too tired, I hope.”

“Oh, of course not! I could tattoo in my sleep. It’s everything else that I’m being lazy about this week.” He grinned back as he confirmed her appearance for the appointment in his computer system and stood back up, gesturing her to follow him to the back.

When they went through the main tattoo room, she noticed there was a man she didn’t see last time who was working on a client. He didn’t look up at them though, he seemed to be very preoccupied. The door to Zayn’s private room was already opened, so she trailed in behind him.

“Don’t mind the company. He owes me a favor so he’s doing the job I don’t like doing.” Zayn said with a chuckle as he shut the door behind them.

Ivy was about to open her mouth to speak when she looked to the corner of the room. In the chair she sat in when she was in Emma sat a person she knew all too well. Her chest started to feel tight all of a sudden, and it worsened when a set of eyes shot up to look at who came in.

Harry was surprised to see her standing there, but he didn’t express it on his face whatsoever. Ivy, on the other hand, made it clear that she was shocked to see him sitting there. He noticed the small part between her lips, almost as if her jaw went slack, and the look of utter fear in her eyes. A bit dramatic, if someone were to ask him.

“Have a seat, I’ve got your design printed out in a few different sizes.” Zayn said as he went to the counter, collecting the papers he wanted to give her.

She sat down, swallowing harshly as she tried to ignore the fact Harry was in the room with her. She hadn’t seen him since Niall dropped her and Emma off back home after the trip. He didn’t talk to her, or to anyone, the entire ride home. The last thing he said to her wasn’t very pleasant, which seemed to be a trend for them, so she still had a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to tell him how rude and hateful he was, despite all the rather nice things he had done for her during that trip, but of course she was too afraid to even look at him let alone speak.

Zayn handed her the print outs and she looked over them quickly, picking the size she thought was appropriate. “What do you think?”

He nodded, glancing at the back of her arm. “I think that’s the best size, yeah.”

“Alright. We’ll do that one then.”

He took the paper back and turned away from her. “I’ll get the stencil ready and when I get back I’ll lay the chair down for you.”

“Okay.”

To her surprise, Zayn walked to the door and left the room. He went to the shared space where the other artists work to prepare the stencil. Knowing that she was alone in a room with Harry was making Ivy’s heart start to race and her stomach churn. She felt uncomfortable being this close to him, even if he was on the other side of the room. But thankfully, he was busy doing something and his eyes weren’t on her anymore.

She took the opportunity to look his way since he was distracted. Her brows furrowed slightly as she realized what he was doing. Zayn had given him the task of rearranging new designs and templates in the book his clients often flipped through. She had looked at it when she was here with Emma, so she knew it was already packed full. There were a few loose pages sitting on the floor, maybe those were ones they were replacing?

It took all her strength to tear her eyes from him. She didn’t want to get caught up in her thoughts again, she had already done that once today. Her journal received absolute hell about Harry. She wrote until her hand was sore. There was no point in reliving those thoughts right now.

Zayn was only gone for a few minutes. He told her to stand up so he could adjust the chair before applying the stencil to her skin. Ivy took a deep breath as she watched him lay the chair down. She’d have to lay on her stomach for this one, which was the most comfortable option.

“Alright, turn around.” He said, the stencil gripped in between his fingers. “You want it closer to your elbow, right?”

“Yeah.. keep it low.” She mumbled back, holding her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn’t be in his way.

Zayn placed the stencil on her arm and slowly peeled the paper back. He stared at it for a moment, pretty certain about the placement. But it wasn’t up to him, he had to get her approval.

“Check it for me.”

Ivy turned in the mirror, looking at her arm the best she could. She nodded lightly, pleased with where the stencil had been placed. Seeing the design on her skin, even though it wasn’t permanent yet, made her heart swell. It was a special thing she was getting inked into her skin, and it made all the anxiety worth it.

“It looks perfect.”

“Alright, get comfortable then.” He smiled before starting to prepare his materials.

Ivy laid down on the chair, careful not to disturb the stencil on the back of her arm. She gulped lightly and folded her other arm beneath her head for more cushion. Of course, because why would it work out in her favor, she was facing the corner where Harry was sitting. She kept her eyes closed for now, not wanting to see him at all.

It didn’t take Zayn long to set up, and before she knew it, he was telling her to take a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Mhm.”

The buzzing of the tattoo gun rang in her ear as Zayn pulled her skin taut and started inking the stencil. She sighed softly, the feeling of being tattooed wasn’t foreign to her but it had been a while since her last one. The flower design Zayn put together for her was just lineworm and very gentle shading. She didn’t want it too realistic or too bold.

After a couple of minutes, he decided to talk with her. He didn’t mind chatting with his clients, it made the time go by quicker for both parties. He was very precise and focused, but could easily multitask.

“So.. do these flowers have any significance to you?”

Although he talked with her and designed the tattoo, Ivy hadn’t told him why she wanted them. He didn’t feel the need to ask his clients for the purpose of their tattoos, he just drew up whatever they wanted and tried his best to perfect the designs.

Ivy chewed on her cheek for a moment before answering. “Yeah.. they’re my mom and brother’s birth month flowers. They, um, both passed.”

“Which is which?”

She hesitated at first, the fear of tears creeping into her eyes was taking over. She could easily break down at the mention of either of them, but especially her brother. Ivy opted to stay strong and smile to herself as she thought about them. They would live forever in her mind, the memories she made with each of them were on the top of her list of most important things. She loved and missed them dearly.

“My mom’s is the rose.. the daffodil is my brothers.” She told him in a gentle voice, not realizing she was speaking so softly.

Zayn wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he didn’t respond. He figured she wouldn’t want to discuss them anymore. His assumption was right. The room was silent for a few minutes, aside from the music playing at a low volume. She didn’t know the song that was currently on, though, but Zayn was humming along to it. The feeling of the needle stabbing into her skin was the only thing preventing her from falling asleep. She was tired after a long day working, she just wanted to get home and go to bed. A smile crept to her lips as she heard the start of the next song, one she was very familiar with. It was Joan Jett’s version of “Crimson & Clover,” one of her favorite songs ever and one of her top karaoke picks.

“Oh, I love this song.”

“You prefer this version I assume?” Zayn said with a light laugh.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Zayn pulled the gun away to wipe at her skin, clearing off some of the excess ink. “We used to play this one live.. haven’t done it in probably a year or so.”

“I suggest adding it back to the set.” Ivy tried not to laugh too loudly, she didn’t want to move her body in any way that would ruin Zayn’s lines.

“We have one more practice before the show, maybe we could squeeze it in.” He pushed the needle back into her skin, picking up where he left off. “Are you coming to the show tomorrow?”

“Yes, I am. I’m excited.. I haven’t been out since the trip.”

Zayn made a quick glance over his shoulder towards Harry, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. “Well, I hope your experience is much better than others were.”

Ivy hummed at his words. “Yeah, hope so.”

They went quiet again, the song filling the void. She started thinking about the show and what she was going to wear. The weather might not allow her to dress the way she would prefer, there was a cold spell coming in tonight that would stick around for a few days. Emma would probably get her to help pick out an outfit in the morning, so perhaps Ivy could make her do the same.

Her mind started wondering off to little random things, nothing particularly capturing her attention as she laid there. Zayn was focused on the tattoo and he didn’t want to risk messing up, so he stayed quiet. He’d answer if she wanted to ask him something, but she appeared to be fine with the silence.

Zayn finished the rose and wiped her skin clean, avoiding the stencil lines for the other flower. He was pleased with the work he did, so he moved on to the next one. Ivy sighed out as he mumbled a quick warning to her before starting again. It was fine for a couple of minutes, until she suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere around them. She heard footsteps, then could actually feel a presence come towards her. She opened her eyes and immediately felt her throat close up. The sight of Harry’s legs wasn’t something she thought she’d see this close. She had hoped that he would stay in the corner the entire time, but he didn’t.

“How’s it look?” Zayn asked him.

Harry was standing with his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes staring down at the spot Zayn was tattooing. The small flowers were positioned on the back of Ivy’s arm, just above her elbow. They weren’t very big at all and leaned more towards a delicate touch than a bold tattoo. If he hadn’t heard what she said about its significance, he would think that it was a weak tattoo - something girls got just to say they had a tattoo. But since he knew the reason, he was a bit more understanding. He wouldn’t say that to her, obviously, but he at least respected the decision.

“Looks nice. Pretty clean.” He mumbled back, his words low and deep.

“Did you get done with the book?”

Harry cleared his throat and took a step back, but his eyes remained on her skin. “Yeah.”

Zayn leaned back to get a better look at the lines as he took a quick break. “Are you riding with me tomorrow to the bar?”

Harry thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “No, I’ll just go with Cory and Michelle.”

Ivy felt a bit of relief knowing that he wasn’t going to be in Niall’s car. Unlike last time, Niall told her and Emma they could ride with him to the bar. He would have to be there a little early, but they were fine with waiting longer for the show to start. Niall promised Emma he wouldn’t drink tomorrow night, which allowed her to since he’d be driving them back.

“M’gonna head out.” Harry said through a sigh, walking towards the door.

Zayn gave him a quick goodbye and said he’d see him tomorrow afternoon when they meet up for one final quick practice and recap for their show. Ivy was confused as to why she felt sort of upset that Harry had left. She should be jumping with joy and celebrating, finally free of his overbearing presence. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the tattoo needle, she couldn’t distract herself enough. Harry had filled her mind up again..

—•—

Emma grinned when Ivy emptied the shot into her mouth. They had been at the bar for about half an hour, waiting on the show to begin. Niall had to leave them behind to go get things sorted with the owner and set up the stage. They decided it would be best to spend their time preparing for the night, and that meant throwing back shots and ordering a few drinks. Niall was their chauffeur for the night, they were going to cut loose.

“Niall’s not gonna know what to do with you tonight.” Ivy teased as Emma chugged the rest of the beer she had ordered.

“Too hot to handle.” Emma laughed back, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

When Ivy picked up her cup from the bar, she grunted from the scratching of her denim jacket against her freshly inked tattoo. She thought the long sleeve shirt she had on would stop it, but she could feel the thick fabric anyway. Emma gave her a funny look and a shake of her head.

“I told you that would hurt tonight.”

She shrugged back, it wasn’t her first time dealing with a healing tattoo. “I’ll be alright. Just don’t grab on to me later.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

Ivy didn’t consider how painful it would be to have someone grab onto her arm until now, and the thought of it alone was making her cringe. Emma wouldn’t intentionally hurt her, but she might forget later when they’re dancing and both drunk out of their minds. It would be something to deal with then, and not fret over now.

“Niall told me they added a few songs to the set. Switched out some other ones.” Emma said after calling the bartender over to get another beer.

“Oh really? I’m excited for tonight. I might request something.” Ivy looked down at the ice swirling in her cup, the memory of the night she was harassed while eating the ice cubes flashed in her mind. She blinked it away, trying not to let anything ruin this night for her. “Are they going to the back room after like last time?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.” Emma said back, her hand now occupied with her knew drink. “I hope it goes well this time. I swear we say that every time we do something that involves Harry.” Her snicker didn’t make the topic easier to deal with though.

Ivy sucked on her cheek for a moment, all those harsh memories she shared with him circled her mind. It was like a revolving door they could never escape. It was constant and never ending. Torture would be the word she’d use for it, though that seemed a bit drastic. A huff pushed out of her nose, her eyes cutting back to Emma.

“He was at the shop yesterday when I got the tattoo.”

Emma lifted her brows. “Really? Did he say anything?”

She shook her head. “No, not to me. He said some stuff to Zayn.”

“I really, honestly don’t know why he.. he acts like he doesn’t like you.”

Ivy scoffed. “Acts? It’s definitely not an act. He.. he practically hates me. I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything to him.”

Emma gave her a frown, she didn’t really know what to say about it either. It made no sense that he was so hostile towards her. Was her vibe just something he couldn’t connect with? She must not be friendly in his eyes, or maybe she makes the group feel different and he didn’t like that. Nobody seemed to know the reason..

“He’s just a guy. Rude and.. selfish.” Emma took a drink of her beer. “But.. I was told something interesting.”

Ivy could tell by the way she cocked her brow and let her eyes fall from their locked stare that it was something she wanted to hear. The corner of Emma’s mouth lifted as she thought about it in her head, debating on telling Ivy the information. It wasn't anything crazy, but she thought it was interesting at least.

“What is it?” Ivy asked, nudging Emma’s knee with her own.

Emma twisted the bar stool a little, trying to be all nonchalant about it. “I’m not supposed to say.. but Niall doesn't have to know.”

The mention of Niall made Ivy even more curious. If Niall said this to her, then that means it probably relates to Harry in some way. Emma had no idea, at least to Ivy’s knowledge, that Ivy was so affected by Harry. She didn’t know that she’s spent hours and hours writing about him in her diary, thinking about him while pulling at her own hair and mumbling nonsense to herself, replaying their interactions in her mind imagining them playing out in different ways.. But clearly, Emma knew that telling her something about Harry would pique her interest.

“I’m not going to say anything.” Ivy mumbled back, but of course Emma knew that already.

“Basically.. Niall’s mentioned that Harry’s been different lately. Like at their place or during practice.. even when he’s working shifts at the store.”

Ivy leaned her arm on the bar, her eyes staring holes through Emma’s face. She didn’t say anything yet, just watched as her friend hesitated to finish the story. Emma threw her head back, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at Ivy.

“Niall said it’s like he’s constantly distracted.. and then he’ll get pissed off for no reason, like they could be in literal silence and Harry would get mad. He storms off to his room.. plays his guitar and slams the doors all night.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Hard to believe that’s not normal for him.”

“I don’t know.. I guess he’s got some stuff going on in his personal life. Maybe that’s why he’s so.. rude to you. Maybe he can’t handle a new person right now, or whatever.”

Emma didn’t appear to connect any dots between Harry and Ivy, which Ivy was thankful for. She didn’t want to admit how often she thought about Harry or how far her spirals would go. She didn’t want Emma to know any of that. It made sense that some other external factors could be contributing to Harry’s behavior. What if there really was something going on before Ivy came along, and her being around just didn’t mix well with Harry’s issues? Was it all too much for him? It made sense, yet at the same time it didn’t. How could her being around affect him that drastically?

She just shrugged her shoulders again. “Whatever it is.. he needs to get over it.”

Emma looked back to her. “Yeah. Ready for another shot?”

Just like last time, the girls made their way to the front of the crowd about ten minutes before the show was going to begin. Ivy was on her third drink, on top of a few shots they took, and it was already going straight to her head. She hoped that sipping slowly on this one would do her some good and make her feel better, not crash her out too soon.

“Shouldn’t be much longer.” Emma said as she checked her phone for the time.

Ivy felt a jolt of energy shoot through her. She was excited to dance and sing, let go of all the worries she faced throughout the week and just have fun. Although she had all intentions of enjoying herself tonight, she knew there was a big possibility that Harry could interfere with that. Even if he didn’t do anything to her directly, his presence alone could jeopardize her sanity. Obviously, she couldn’t escape him - in a few short minutes, he’ll be standing on the stage in front of her singing for the next two hours. She was confident in the idea of being able to ignore him. She’s been partially successful at it before.

There were the diary entries to take into consideration - she had spent so many hours pouring out her thoughts and feelings about him. Maybe releasing all of it from her mind would make it easier to ignore him. There was life before he came around, she sometimes forgets that she hadn’t known him forever. She was perfectly capable of controlling her thoughts before he waltzed his way into her mind. Perhaps she was just aiming for something unachievable.. she’d never be able to just forget him, even if she never saw him again.

Ivy’s distraction was pushed to the side when the band finally walked onto the stage. People were cheering loud, ready for the night’s entertainment. Emma squealed, throwing her hand up to wave at Niall. He was chuckling at her, amused to see how excited she was to see him. Ivy’s eyes roamed over the others. Zayn was taking his seat at the drum set while Cory and Michelle quickly discussed something about one of the new songs they were going to play. Of course she couldn’t look at everyone and avoid Harry. Her brows dropped low as she realized he looked different tonight.

That long, perfectly sculpted hair was still flowing onto his shoulders. His tight black tshirt exposed his muscled arms, tattoos inked deep into his tanned skin. His dark jeans were the same as she’s seen him in before. Tonight, he made a decision that was shocking to his band mates, and even more of a surprise to Ivy.

Niall and Cory began the first song, simultaneously singing the opening lyrics to “You Give Love A Bad Name.” Harry’s fingers began playing the guitar he had strapped around his body, his eyes glancing down at the strings to make sure he was on the right track. It sounded perfect, though. She remembered them talking about Harry playing live at dinner weeks ago, but she didn’t think she would witness it solely based on how they reacted to the idea. If he were so insecure about it, what changed his mind? She was genuinely impressed. He was still positioned at the front, the microphone resting in a stand angled towards him. He was singing as confidently as the first time she saw them perform.

It didn’t take very long for Emma to grab Ivy’s hand and pull her closer, the two of them dancing together like it was their last night. As much as she wanted to watch Harry play the guitar, Ivy had no choice but to focus on Emma. She wasn’t going to be rude to her friend for the sake of looking at a person she didn’t even like. She could tell when Niall would play the same chords as him, but he did cut back some and let Harry take over. She wondered if Niall did that to ensure the song wasn’t thrown off track or if that was just how they preferred to do it.

The song changed, and Emma took a quick rest to guzzle a bit of her drink. Ivy let out a laugh as she spilled some, it trickled down her chin and onto her outfit. She groaned, wiping at her face.

“Slow down!” Ivy yelled over the music, making Emma grin back.

They picked up the dancing after her short break. Like she had hoped, it wasn’t that hard for Ivy to forget Harry was so close to her. Maybe it was because this was a different situation. She wasn’t trapped in a car next to him or standing beside him in a crowd, he was doing a job and he was focused entirely on that. She didn’t care what the reason was, she was simply glad she was able to be carefree.

Twenty minutes passed by before Emma decided she’d get another drink. She asked Ivy if she wanted anything, but she declined. They also made a promise that she’d be safe and come straight back, since Ivy’s incident at that other club still lurked fresh in their minds. This place was different, though. Emma was very familiar with the layout and it was nowhere near the size of the other one. Ivy stayed put, right in front of Niall where Emma wanted to be so she could see him.

Niall actually took notice of Emma leaving, but he wasn’t too worried about her. He knew she was comfortable with some of the workers and if she needed anything she’d be able to get help quickly. The strobing lights made it hard for him to see her in the crowd, but there was not any concern.

Ivy kept dancing by herself, but not as passionately. She was swaying from side to side, her head matching her body’s movements. She sipped her drink and sang along to the music, her eyes settled on Niall and Michelle, since they were on the side of the stage they were in front of. She did start to wonder where Emma was after a couple of minutes, but she tried to stay calm. She knew it could take a bit longer to get a drink sometimes, and the walk from the bar might be a harder squeeze. People were less likely to let her just slip through if she were trying to get to the front.

Thankfully, she didn’t come into any trouble. Emma returned with a drink in her hand and a grin on her lips. They were playing one of her favorite songs they do live and she got back just in time. Ivy knew the dancing would immediately start back, Emma couldn’t resist the song. And just like that, they spent another fifteen minutes belting out song lyrics and dancing around like teenage girls.

Eventually, due to their instinct to jump around instead of dance most of the time, they managed to shift from their original spot. They ended up directly in the middle, Harry standing right in front of them. Emma was still able to see Niall, so she didn’t care that much. Ivy, on the other hand, cared more than she wanted to admit. Being that close to him, so perfectly aligned, was making her heart start to skip beats every few seconds. She stared up at him as he sang, his hand gripping the microphone stand as he took a break from playing the guitar. He hadn’t touched it during this song, so maybe he didn’t like playing this one, or perhaps he was resting his hands. His eyes were settled on something random out in the crowd, not towards her. It was a relief.

The song came to an end and she took a minute to take some deep breaths, trying to recover quickly. Her eyes curiously shifted up to Harry just as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the guitar. Ivy absentmindedly chewed on her cheek as she stared up at him like he was an angel, something so magnificent and beautiful.

“Ivy!” Emma suddenly screamed her name as loud as she could.

Her jaw went slack as she heard the beginning of a song she adored more than anything else in the world. Emma had no idea this song was going to be added, Niall didn’t tell her what they put on the set. She was just as excited. Ivy thought back to just yesterday at the tattoo shop, and how this song came up in conversation with Zayn. Was it just a coincidence that “Crimson and Clover” was being played tonight? Surely Zayn would have mentioned it if they had been practicing it, right? She didn’t care to know the answer right now, the urge to dance and sing to one of her favorite songs was stronger than her desire to know.

“Over and over!” She sang at the top of her lungs, her hand gripping Emma’s as they moved their hips to the beat, singing like nobody else was in the room.

Unknownst to Ivy, she had an admirer of her own tonight. She was too busy focused on Emma to notice that Harry had laid his eyes on her. He could hardly hold back an amused smile as he sang, watching her soak up every single word of the song. He thought it was entertaining how she so easily and so comfortably expressed herself. She didn’t care who was watching, or who was singing, she loved the song and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

Unfortunately, it was a short song. And when the final chords were being played, she let Emma go and turned back towards the stage. Harry’s eyes were still locked on her and she immediately felt her stomach seize up. Was it purposeful or did his eyes happen to land on her? She didn’t know and honestly she didn’t have time to think about it. She was slowly starting to drift deep in her thoughts. She noticed every detail about him all of a sudden, as if she had never seen him before. From the sweat beads on his forehead to the delicate way his fingers strummed the strings on his guitar, hitting every chord perfectly.

He stepped back from the microphone stand, pulling his gaze away from her. She felt her throat dry up when he turned away. Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart flutter and she hated that it had to end so quickly. She kept her eyes on him though as he moved on the stage. He placed his guitar on a stand and grabbed a stool.

Cory leaned into the microphone placed in front of him and let everyone know what was going on. “Slowing it down for you for a bit.”

Just like last time she saw them perform, they all took a quick minute long break. Harry snatched a bottle of water off the floor at the back of the stage then walked back to his microphone stand where the stool was waiting for him. She held her breath as she watched him take a seat, then remove the cap of the bottle. He pressed his lips and tilted his head back, water spilling into his mouth. She couldn't help but notice how pink his lips looked. Was it the lighting or were they swollen from all the singing and the constant hitting against the microphone? She didn’t know why, but they looked better than they ever had.

A small gasp left her mouth as Harry’s eyes dropped down to look at her. This time she knew it was on purpose. The way he looked directly at her, nothing else distracted him. They shared a stare for a long minute, neither of them wanting to break it. Even when he took another drink of his water, he kept his eyes frozen on her. Water dripped out the corner of his mouth, and he just wiped it away with the back of his hand. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her to stop being so dumb and giddy about him, but her heart was somewhere else. She didn’t want to look away, didn’t want it to ever end.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” Emma called out, interrupting the moment she wasn’t even sure was real.

She looked over at her and smiled. “Alright.”

Ivy wholeheartedly expected to not see his intense stare when she tilted her head back, and she was surprised to meet his eyes again. He had no intention of looking away from her yet, even when Niall started the next song. Harry gripped the microphone and pulled the stand closer to him. To Ivy’s dismay, it was another one of her favorite songs. She knew for a fact she never said anything about this song to Zayn at the shop the other day, or in any other setting that Harry had shared with her. “Something In The Way” was the same song that made her extremely dizzy and out of it the last time she attended their show. It was a regular song on the set, unfortunately for her, but it felt different this time.

Harry’s eyes were fixated on her, and magically this made it easier for her to listen to the song. Usually, when it played on the radio or she put it on herself, she cried and thought about how much her brother loved the song. Right now, she was just enjoying the way it sounded being sung in Harry’s voice. Every instrument on the stage was being perfectly executed - every note, every chord, every single thing was perfect. They did the song a great justice. She was mentally hitting herself for running out of the crowd to seek refuge in the restroom the last time they played this song. They really did it so perfectly..

A tingle ripped down her spine as she flicked her eyes away from his. She wasn’t confident enough to keep the contact locked anymore. It was starting to be too overwhelming for her. Harry didn’t let up, though, he kept his eyes trained on her. Ivy wasn’t sure why he was so focused on her, but it was making her stomach ache. She reached up and gently started to rub her fingers over the small pendant of her necklace, her eyes slowly lifting up to look at him.

For the rest of the song, and into the start of the next one, Harry stared down at her. He was intrigued by her change of behavior. Sure, they were now playing slower songs instead of the more upbeat ones, but he could tell she was feeling a different way than before. She was reclusive, her eyes nervously darting away from him every couple moments just to sneak their way back. He found it rather interesting how she could go from having so much energy to appearing to be so shy.

Ivy was deep in her thoughts as she stood quietly by herself, Harry’s attention causing chaos in her head. She fought between being infatuated with him and wanting to scream at him. She tried to bring those rude comments to the forefront of her mind, but the memory of his hand catching her on the sidewalk and his arm protecting her from that stranger shoved their way through. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all..

A frown shaped to her lips when he suddenly looked away from her, his eyes scoping out the crowd now. She immediately started to wonder if she had did something wrong. Was he even looking at her that long or did she imagine it? No, there was no way she could make up the intense feelings she had experienced. It was real, no doubt in her mind. She didn’t ponder it long, though, as she realized Emma was next to her again. Did he look away because he didn’t want to be caught staring at her?

“Sorry, took longer than I thought. There was a line.” She said loudly, leaning into Ivy’s shoulder.

She turned slightly to face her, presenting a fake smile. “You’re fine.”

“Did I miss anything?” She asked, her eyes peering up at the stage.

Ivy pushed out a breathy laugh. “No, nothing.”

The rest of the show was just as enjoyable as the first half, and even though Ivy didn't get much of Harry’s attention, he spared her a few quick looks every now and then. She was confused about the sudden interest he showed in her, or at least the curiosity. She didn’t want to refer to it as interest, in case it wasn’t that in any way at all. Presuming would only hurt her if she ended up being wrong.

Once the band had ended their show, they were gathering their things on the stage. Harry adjusted the microphone stand down to its default height before taking the guitar off his body. He had grabbed it and kept playing after the slower portion of the show was over. Emma was talking to Niall as he kneeled down on the stage, leaning close so he could hear her over the noise. The regular music had already started to play through the speakers in the ceiling. Ivy waited patiently for her, just standing nearby. She didn’t want to be too close in case Niall was trying to have a private conversation.

Something caught her attention all of a sudden. Harry gripped the neck of the guitar with one hand, the other pushing through his hair. When he took the first step to leave the stage, something fell onto the ground. It was his guitar pick, the light just so happened to hit it right so that Ivy was able to make out what it was. She furrowed her brows and stood on her tiptoes to look onto the stage. She saw the thick piece of green plastic sitting there. Harry had used it for some of the songs, but she did notice he didn’t have it in his fingers the entire show.

She glanced over at Niall and Emma, neither of them were paying her any attention. She used her heels as an advantage to push herself up more, reaching onto the stage to grab the pick. It was almost too far away, she barely was able to get a hold of it. When she brought it in front of her, grunting as she fell flat on her heels, she noticed that it had a darker green marbling look to it. She flipped it over, the opposite side was sporting two letters in black permanent marker ink. HS.

Not long after they started packing away the stage equipment, Ivy and Emma went back through the door with the curtain of stringed beads, going straight to the back table that was reserved for the band. Michelle, Zayn, and Cory were the firsts to join them. Ivy greeted everyone with a bright smile and a quick hug, congratulating them on a great show. She asked Zayn why Alyssa didn’t make it and he told her that their child wasn’t feeling the best, plus he added that she wasn’t a big fan of the bar scene.

“I saw you rocking out. Glad you enjoyed it.” Cory said to Ivy as he sat down next to her.

She smiled back. “You guys were great.”

She was slightly uncomfortable with how close he chose to sit next to her, so she casually slid over towards Michelle, acting as if she was going to start talking to her. She was distracted, though, so Ivy just swallowed gently and tried to ignore it. Maybe Cory meant nothing by it, most likely he didn’t, and she was just being cautious. The last time a man approached her, things did not end very well. She knew Cory wouldn’t do something like that, but there was still that underlying fear of it happening again.

They waited for a few minutes, everyone was talking amongst themselves. Ivy kept to herself, though. She looked inside her small purse, the guitar pick she rescued from the stage was sitting at the bottom. Her cheek got caught between her teeth as a thought crept into her mind. She wanted to return it to him. She wondered where he was and if he would join them. He liked to go off on his own, she had noticed that before, so she feared she might not get the chance to give it back to him tonight. If he did come to where they all were, would she get the opportunity to be alone with him? She didn’t feel as though she would muster up enough courage to give it to him in front of everyone. What if they thought it was weird?

The thoughts vanished from her mind as she suddenly heard his voice. She looked up, smiling gently as she saw that he and Niall had arrived with a round of drinks. She pushed down the lump that appeared in her throat, the thought of the first time she met everyone returned to her mind. Emma had offered her drink up that night because one wasn’t ordered for her.. She didn’t belong then, did she belong now?

“The owners got us two rounds tonight.” Niall said as he handed a cup of beer to Emma, then one to Michelle.

Harry had the other tray in his hand and he actually gave them out instead of placing it on the table. He gave one to Zayn, then to Cory. Ivy felt a ton of bricks land on her shoulders - there were two cups left on the tray. To her utter surprise, Harry grabbed one of them and extended his hand out to her. His eyes weren’t on her, though. She took the cup and mumbled a ‘thank you’ that he didn’t catch. Nobody else seemed to care about the gesture the way she did, no reactions happened. She thought she was just being silly, just a bit dramatic..

“Move over.” Harry said to Cory, expecting him to move to the right.

However, Cory didn’t do that. He slid to the left, opening up a spot right next to Ivy. It made her lips roll into her mouth, would he actually sit down next to her? She nearly froze as Harry sat down. He didn’t care where he sat, he just wanted to finally get off his feet for a while.

“Any drinking contests tonight?” Michelle teased with a laugh, scooting closer to be next to Ivy.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry was looking her way. She nervously laughed and shook her head. “No, not tonight.”

“Oh, come on. Just one?”

“No, no.. I drank too much the last time I was out.. I don’t want to overdo it.” She explained, trying to keep a smile on her face.

“Alright, fine. Next time.. I’m challenging you.” Michelle gave her a quick wink and a nudge of her knee.

Despite not feeling tired, Ivy was mentally drained. Her emotions had swirled so quickly earlier that her brain was exhausted. She couldn’t decide whether she was angry at Harry, embarrassed by everything that’s happened, or glad that he was giving her some sort of attention. She might ever know the meaning behind his stares tonight, but at least she knew they weren’t angry glares like she was used to.

She leaned her back against the comfortable material of the benched seating. She wished she was in her bed, but she wanted to stick it out and have fun the rest of the night. It was hard to keep track of everyone’s conversations, so she just listened to Michelle’s voice since she was closest. She didn’t participate in anything either. Nobody bothered her for a while, she figured they either didn’t want to intrude or didn’t notice her behavior. She wasn’t aware, but there was at least one person in the group that noticed.

Harry couldn’t help himself, she was too close to him. He gave her a quick glance every now and then, wondering if she was feeling sick or if she was sleepy. She had been active most of the night, jumping and dancing around having a good time - now, it was much different. He didn’t speak to her, though.

After a while, Niall and Emma left to go dance. Zayn said something about going to the bar, so Cory offered to join him. Ivy was perfectly content with where she was, sitting in between Harry and Michelle. A few minutes ticked by before Michelle stood up to stretch. She looked down at Ivy and smiled.

“Do you need to go to the restroom?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the small crowd, leaving Harry alone with Ivy.

It was obviously noticed by both of them. Harry tensed up, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the purple light in the center of the table. The glow shined beautiful on his skin, Ivy thought it was ethereal. She wondered what he was in such deep thought about, if anything at all - with the way he was staring at the light, not even blinking as the seconds went by.

She looked around the space, ensuring herself that everyone was gone. Now was her chance to speak to him. If she didn’t do it now, she wouldn’t do it at all and she would have a heap of regret. Quietly, she reached into her purse and took out the pick. She sucked in a deep breath and turned her head towards him.

“Harry.” She said his name carefully, almost too afraid to say it too loud, but she wanted him to hear her over the music.

He thought he was hearing things at first, but when he shifted his head and caught her eyes, he knew she had said his name. He lifted his brows, silently asking her what she wanted. He was surprised she had said anything to him, but he wasn’t disappointed.

“Um.. you dropped this earlier.” She moved her hand so he could see it.

“What?” His brows furrowed, his eyes cutting down to her hand. “Oh. You didn’t have to save it. They’re pretty cheap.” His tone was normal, but there was no laugh or smile laced in his words.

Ivy felt a twist in her stomach as she dropped it in his opened palm. He decided he had to get away from her, so he stood up and adjusted his shirt, about to walk away. Her soft voice caught his attention, any ounce of courage she had moments ago was gone.

“I just thought you’d.. you’d need it.”

When he looked down at her, she had already dropped her head and nervously folded her hands on her lap. He pushed out a sigh and licked his lips, knowing that he needed to be more polite to the girl. It wasn’t like she said anything outlandish. She was being kind to him.. something he wasn’t familiar with reciprocating to her.

“Ivy.”

The sound of his voice speaking her name had the same effect now as it did weeks ago. Her heart started to flutter uncontrollably and her stomach swormed with something much larger than butterflies. She lifted her head, her eyes finding his already staring down at her.

“Yeah?”

He just stared at her for a long moment, debating on how far to take his response. He wasn’t sure what she wanted or how she would take what he said to her. There had to be some resentment she had towards him, it would be impossible to not feel that way. He had done so much to her that was hateful and mean, how could she appreciate any ounce of kindness he gave to her? He stopped overthinking it and just spoke.

“Thanks anyway.”

Once Michelle came back from the restroom, she rejoined Ivy and they started talking about random things. It felt nice to have someone to talk to in the midst of all the intense feelings she was having. It was like she was able to shut it all off and focus on something else for once. Michelle never let the conversations die down, there was always something to talk about with her.

Nobody returned to the table while they were chatting, everyone was enjoying their night in their own ways. Ivy did take a second to wonder where Emma was, but she remembered Niall was with her so the concern wasn’t necessary. She wanted to think about Harry, but she kept her attention on Michelle instead. It was a relief to have a good distraction.

When Michelle started talking about her music preferences and favorite songs, Ivy couldn’t help but to think about the song they performed tonight. She wondered if it was a mutual decision or if someone, Harry or Zayn specifically, decided to play the song. Once Michelle finished her sentence, she decided to bring it up. She felt comfortable changing the topic.

“Hey, random question.” Ivy started with a laugh. “Do you guys switch the set up a lot or is it the same for a while?”

“I think we’re far past random.” Michelle grinned back. “Well, we usually keep it the same for a few months, depends on how many shows we do. We changed a few songs, but at the last minute Harry wanted to add one.”

Ivy raised her brows. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.. like he told us this morning. Luckily we all knew the song already.” She rolled her eyes playfully before sipping her beer.

“Which song was it?” Ivy already felt as though she knew the answer, but she wanted it to be confirmed.

“Crimson and Clover.” Michelle said, adjusting her position on the bench.

Ivy’s heart picked up it’s speed for a few seconds, of course that was the answer she was waiting on. She knew there had to be a reason he added the song and she hoped that it was because of her. Before she had time to fully process the information, Michelle checked her phone and let out a sigh.

“Emma wants us to come dance with her. Niall’s tiring out.”

Ivy looked down at her phone as it vibrated, the same text Michelle got popped onto her screen. “She’s desperate.”

They both laughed and stood up at the same time. Michelle finished off her beer and discarded the cup on the table, Ivy had some left so she just brought it along with her. They slipped into the crowd, thankful that it wasn’t as big as the one in the main part of the building. Michelle spotted Emma and they quickly headed towards her.

“You’re free, Niall.” Michelle said as they approached them.

Niall let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank god.”

Emma gave him a playful shove and told him to go away. Ivy wasn’t particularly thrilled to start dancing again, so she opted for gentle swaying and soft singing, instead of the usual performances she gave. Michelle was more active and hyper, though, so she was able to keep up with Emma.

The girls enjoyed themselves for a short while, the music choices were nice for the most part. Ivy was doing fine until she felt someone’s eyes on her. She thought maybe she was imagining things and was just being paranoid, but after a few more minutes of the intense feeling, she decided to look around. At first, she didn’t see anybody giving her any sort of attention. She started to believe she was losing her mind. That is, until she landed her wandering eyes on a familiar face.

Not far from them was Harry and Cory, and those green eyes she had come to admire so much were staring right at her. Cory was talking and Harry seemed to be listening, or at least pretending to. She felt as though he was back at playing that game of his, making her feel intimidated and nervous. She got the idea to play along with him. Her thick lips shaped to a smile and he knew it was aimed for him and him only. He shook his head lightly and moved his eyes off of her. A proud feeling grew inside of her, she smirked to herself. She was just as good at playing his stupid game.

She was somewhat glad to know that Harry was close by. As much as she hated what happened to her at that club, she was thankful that he was there. If she hadn't found him, there would be no telling what could’ve happened to her. Everything was going well, even though Harry wasn’t looking her way anymore. She thought nothing else of it and just enjoyed the song that was currently on. Emma was forcing her to dance a little more than she wanted, but she couldn’t help but cave in and laugh. Michelle was glad to see she was more energetic now.

Ivy thought that maybe this night would actually be one hundred percent drama free. She didn’t consider the quick conversation she had with Harry as anything bad or hurtful, it was in fact rather calm and normal. But as always, there was something thrown in to ruin the night.

A guy was walking near them when he suddenly got caught up on his own feet and stumbled, his body shooting forward. The girls let out a combined shriek as beer splashed all over them, more so on Ivy than on Michelle. Emma wasn’t close enough for the spill to hit her. Ivy gasped as she touched her shirt the second the liquid soaked through to her skin. Michelle’s mouth was hung open, her hands in the air as she looked down at her legs - that’s where the liquid landed on her.

Harry looked over towards them as soon as they screamed, it was very audible even over the music, he didn’t catch the entire interaction. All he saw was a guy holding an empty plastic cup and the two of them standing there dripping with beer. He could see the stains on their clothes, and a few strands of Ivy’s long hair that soaked up some of the beer.

“Oh my god!” The guy immediately apologized to them, sincerity in his voice. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright.” Michelle said with a nervous laugh, she was shocked that this happened so quickly.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’m so sorry.”

Ivy was about to say something when a tall, broad figure appeared next to her. Harry pushed his way between the girls and the stranger, accidentally pushing Ivy backwards. She didn’t lose her footing though. She shot her eyes to Michelle, who was instantly worried.

“The fuck is your problem?” Harry yelled out, his height towering over the man’s.

Cory quickly ran up to them, too, his brows furrowed as he looked over their beer soiled clothes. He was going to ask what happened, but Harry’s loud voice was taking over.

“I said, what’s your fucking problem?”

“I-I didn’t-“ The poor guy was nervous and stammering, Harry’s demeanor was extremely intimidating.

Michelle grabbed Harry’s shoulder and tried to pull him back, but he didn’t move. “Harry, stop!”

“Are you fucking stupid, huh? What the fuck are you doing?” He kept on, yelling in the guy’s face like he had committed a heinous crime.

“He didn’t do it on purpose, Harry!” Emma tried her best to intervene, but she was slightly afraid of what could happen.

The loud screaming had caused quite the commotion, and everyone turned towards them to watch what was unfolding. Niall quickly made his way to where the crowd seemed to gather, he just had a feeling something was going on. He made it back to them just in time to see Harry push his hand into the guy’s chest, sending him back a couple of steps.

“Harry!” Cory called out his name, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to listen to anyone.

Niall ran up to them, grabbing onto Emma’s elbow to pull her away. He asked her what happened and she quickly told him. He sighed and tried to walk in front of the guy, but Harry didn’t allow it. He shoved Niall back, not wanting him to get involved.

“Let it go, Harry.” He still tried his best to end it.

“This motherfucker threw fucking beer on them.” Harry shouted, his eyes locked on the stranger’s instead of on Niall. He wasn’t upset with his friends for trying to stop him, he was furious about the spilled beer that he believed was purposeful.

Ivy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind him. Cory gave her a shake of his head and tried to stop her, but she ignored him. She gasped as Harry pushed him again, shouting the same question over and over.

“He didn’t throw it on us!” She raised her voice, her small hand reaching up to touch Harry’s bicep in an attempt to get her attention.

He felt her touch and immediately looked over, not expecting to see her standing so close. Anger was swept over his face, and it was more terrifying than she thought it would be. He looked like he was about to rip someone’s head off their shoulders. Her hand started to shake so much that it fell from his arm. She stepped back, fear consuming her.

“I fucking watched him do it!” Harry yelled back at her, his words harsh and cold.

She didn’t like the way he screamed so easily towards her, how his anger was taking over him entirely. She licked her lips and tried to keep her composure. Harry’s eyes were glued to her now, he wasn’t even concerned with the guy still gripping the empty cup.

“He tripped, Harry. He didn’t do it on purpose.” Michelle cut in quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

Harry shot his eyes back to the guy as he tried to apologize again. He interrupted him with a threatening yell. Everyone in the room had their eyes on them, and the embarrassment was building among the small group. Ivy felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.

“Stop it, Harry. You’re the one acting stupid. Calm down, please!” She pleaded with him, trying her absolute best to end this.

Harry turned towards her, making her jump back. Cory grabbed her elbow and forced her back a few more steps, afraid that something might happen. Harry wouldn’t purposely hurt her, but he didn’t want her to get too close in case someone else got hurt. She shook off Cory’s hand, not wanting to be touched.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He spat out, not even considering how mean his voice sounded. Right now all he wanted to do was pound his fists into that guy’s face.

His attention wasn’t on her very long. He returned to the stranger, who Niall was apologizing to. Things were getting heated again as the man tried to explain what had happened, despite everyone else already doing that. Harry wasn’t having any of it. He demanded that the man apologize to the girls before he kicked his ass. It was all very dramatic and intense.

Cory gestured for Michelle to get closer to him and she quickly did. He went to grab Ivy’s arm again, this time more forcibly. He pulled her back towards him, but she didn’t like the way he took control over her. No matter what kind of situation she was in, she didn’t want to be grabbed that way.

“Stop it, Cory!” She let her frustration over Harry’s actions come out, her voice louder than usual.

He let her go, but not before Harry could whip his body around to them, the sound of her voice distracting him from the guy. Niall took the opportunity to guide the man away from them so he could apologize again. Harry had seen Cory’s hand on Ivy’s arm and he felt an immense amount of jealousy and anger, more than he had ever before. It reminded him of the night at the restaurant when Cory so confidently spoke to Ivy and tried to get to know her. It made his skin crawl.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He screamed out, his face flushed bright red and his eyes full of anger.

Cory was confused more than anything. “Woah, relax!”

“What did you do to her?” He asked, trying to close the space between them but Ivy got in the way.

She slid in front of him, her hand hitting against his abdomen accidentally, but she didn’t move it. Her hand flattened against his body. “Harry, stop, please.”

“Why are you freaking out?” Michelle was starting to get scared, she wasn’t sure why Harry was suddenly turning on everyone.

He looked down at Ivy, ignoring everyone else around him. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Then why did you tell him to stop?”

“He just.. tried to pull me out of the way.” Ivy explained, hoping it worked this time. While she wasn’t pleased with how Cory touched her, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t worth it.

“I don’t believe that.”

“You’re scaring me.” She blurted out, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned her head, not wanting to see his anger ridden features. He looked like he could tear a building out of the ground.

Harry backed up, his eyes trained on her. She felt his presence shifting, her eyes open to see where he was going. She felt a lump forming in her throat as he shoved his hand through his hair and tugged at his roots. She feared he’d explode if someone said one more word to him.

“I have to get out of here.”

That was the last thing he said before he stormed out of the building, leaving everyone more confused than anything. Ivy was speechless. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She had never seen someone so angry before. Even when that guy was following her and Harry got involved, he didn’t act that way. Tonight he was outraged. She actually feared him. Maybe he wasn’t worth all the hassle. He seemed to be more of a problem than she first imagined. Now matter how nice his eyes made her feel earlier.. she didn’t want to see them ever again.

—•—

That next morning was more awkward than anything. Niall had stayed over with Emma and together they prepared breakfast. Ivy was confused when she woke up to the smell of food cooking, and when she strolled into the kitchen in her pajamas, she saw them finishing up. They both greeted her with warm smiles.

“What are you guys doing?” She said through a gentle laugh, looking around at the mess that was made in the kitchen.

“Just making an apology meal for you.” Niall said with a smile, although it wasn’t very funny.

“An apology meal?” She furrowed her brows. “For what?”

He sighed. “For Harry’s behavior, of course.. isn’t that always the case?”

Ivy lifted her brows at his reply, not sure what to say in response. Everyone was very on edge after Harry disappeared last night, and they all left a short time afterwards. When she got home she took a shower immediately, the smell of beer had seeped into her skin and clothes.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Emma grunted. “Yes we do.”

“It was all a misunderstanding.” She mumbled back, taking a seat at the table.

“And it shouldn’t have been.” Niall said. “He embarrasses me every time we go out with you and it drives me crazy.”

“It’s not your fault, though. I.. I understand he was.. drunk and not willing to listen. It’s fine.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s not fine. And we have to make it up to you, again.”

“Maybe one day.. I won’t have to give you so many apologies.” Niall didn’t sound hopeful about that.

“That would be nice.” She tried to have a little humor, not wanting to focus entirely on the situation.

“I just can’t believe he acted that way.” Emma frowned. “Over a spilled drink?”

Once everything was finished cooking, they each got what they wanted and sat down at the table. Ivy stayed quiet as they ate, hoping that no more talk about last night’s events would come up. Niall and Emma were embarrassed and she understood why, she just didn’t want them to focus on it forever. The situation was over, there was no need in pouring fuel into the fire. The person that owed her the biggest apology would never give her one anyway.

[a/n: ok ok ok im super excited for part 6!!! it’s definitely a big turning point for them (an unexpected event forces them to spend time together) it’s going to be worth the wait! hope u enjoy this, reblog like all that nice stuff! see u soon]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown n @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden @prettygurl-2009 @sincerely-yours-marsbar @boopookie @mypolicemanharryyy @angelbunny222 2 @mads3502 @harrysredroom @inlikea-coolway @matildasatellite @imaginexxharry

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thanosscross · 9 hours ago

Text

Found - Dad! Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P & Idol! Teen! Reader

Summary: Growing up you always had one best friend, your mom, especially after your dad had left you before you were born. So what happens whenever a new career path ends your life-long search for your Appa?

Warnings: None that I can really think of, but if I miss one please let me know lovelies!

Translations:

Ttal-a : Daughter. An informal way for a parent to address their daughter.

You grew up being your mom's best friend, after your father had left her before you were born, it only left the two of you to take care of each other. You were an amazing daughter in your mother's eyes, always doing more than what was asked of you, even if it meant giving up something you wanted or needed.

Even through all of it, you were still weighed down by a question you had for so long, you couldn't remember a time where you didn't have it. It was basically what formed you into the determined person you are today, Who was the man who helped make you? What did he contribute in making you? Did you have his eyes? Or maybe the facial structure you had never been able to match to any of your other relatives on your mother's side. You had so many questions, that you'd always be grounded for asking, so you devoted your free time in trying to find that man, determined to find out everything about your father's family, I mean, they were your family too, right?

Your search would become severely delayed whenever you confidently signed on to an Agency to become a new idol, hoping that it'd come out at least a little successful. It wasn't a secret you came from a rougher side of the city, a small home, with broken floorboards, barely livable, but you did what you could to make it safe for your mother, especially with her worsening health. You'd spend days at a time, training at the agency, if you weren't in training, you were recording and rehearsing for your debut album, and if you weren't doing that? You'd be in meetings with different staff members, if not that? You were doing whatever you could for your mom.

As you'd start to grow in fame, your fans would take notice to certain similarities between you and another Idol, you'd be honored by their theories, with your style of music really ranging, it mainly had one common variant in each song, your ability to rap, being able to rap over 10.13 Syllables per second. The way they'd constantly swear T.O.P from BigBang was a long lost brother, or father, would always charm you, you'd look up to the rapper, especially with him basically setting the bar for any and all K-pop rappers, it was an extreme compliment for you to be compared to him.

You'd never meet T.O.P until your manager would pull him into your first stage rehearsal, it'd be three weeks before you first show, so everybody on your team was stressed, especially whenever you and your chorographer couldn't figure out what you'd do while rapping one of your verses. With rapping, it took a lot of air out of you, especially trying to keep your pitch and keep up with the backtracks, so you couldn't move much, if you'd jump around, run, or dance, you'd surely run out of air before the verse ended, but you also couldn't just stand there. "Y/n! Our little Aein! This is T.O.P, I'm sure you know of him, he's going to help your little problem" YG would cheer, introducing you both before disappearing again into the hall, most likely going to check on other idols and trainees. "Hello, you can just call me Seung Hyun, it's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard you in the studio before, you're rapping is crazy" He smiled, laughing a bit as you both bowed in sync with each other "Nice to meet you! I'm y/n, but you know that" You smiled softly before backing up slightly as your choreographer took over the conversation, as you watched the two converse, you couldn't brush off the feeling of familiarity towards the man, but you couldn't quite place it.

You'd end up spending almost three more hours working on the rest of your choreography, finally calling it quits whenever Seung Hyun spotted you asleep against the wall. He was impressed, for such a young teenager, you were determined to make waves in the industry, yes you were only 17, but you were ready, your kindness and professionalism winning over YG and the others, almost immediately.

You'd barely remember getting home, as you woke up in your own bed, glancing around before you made your way out to the kitchen hearing your mother talking with somebody over the phone. As she finished her phone call, you tiredly sat at the counter, resting your head on your hands as you yawned. "That was your manager, he said you're doing well with your fans" She smiled towards you, handing over a plate of breakfast as she sat next to you "I know! They're so amazing, and they keep coming up with these awesome theories about who my dad might be" You smiled, not noticing her disgusted look, you never understood why she wouldn't ever talk about your father, other than to bash him, and to remind you that he left you, and she stayed. "Some people think it's rapper, T.o.p?" You added on, smiling softly as she looked at you confused "Who would ever name their child, T.o.p?" She asked, her tone dripping in annoyance and disgust "Well, that's his stage name, his real name is Choi Seung Hyun" You replied, jumping slightly as her hand slammed against the counter "That name will not be spoken in my home!" She screamed, you quickly stood up, going to apologize, only to have interrupted by her pointing to the door aggressively. Getting her message, you walked out of the front door, confused, standing there for a moment before pulling out your phone.

You weren't sure who to call, it was still pretty early, but you needed a ride to YG's agency building, walking that far would be damn near impossible to do, especially with you needing to be there, in about 32 minutes. As you held your phone to your ear, you sat on the curb anxiously picking at your socks, only now realizing, you were still in nightclothes and no shoes, but if your Umma wanted you out, who were you to argue? It'd be disrespectful as a daughter if you did. "Hello?" You heard a deep sleepy voice call through the phone, you were hesitant to speak at first, only whenever you realized he might fall back asleep, you spoke "Hey..Um..It's Y/n, are you free?" You asked nervously, hearing the older male sigh, you started to regret calling him, why not call YG? He might've been able to help. "Y-Yea yea, what's..what's going on?" Seung Hyun tiredly asked as he rolled out of the bed, running a hand over his face as he tried to wake himself up more "So...I think my mom might hate you.." You whispered, leaning your head down to rest on your knees "I brought you up..and she kicked me out..I don't know how long for- and! I'm not asking for a place to stay, I-I just..need a ride" You rambled, your anxiety starting to build whenever you heard nothing in reply, it took a moment for Seung Hyun to wrack his brain; maybe that's why your last name sounded so familiar. "Who's your mom?" He asked as he started to get dressed, not planning on leaving you to walk to the agency building. "Y/m/n l/n" You replied, pulling your nightshirt tighter around you as the morning rush started to pick up more, you could hear Seung Hyun's small huff through the phone "I'll be there in about...ten?" He replied, not really replying to your answer before the phone call was cut off. Why were both him and your mom acting so strange? Did they have something going on together?...was he..?

It would be six weeks of you both getting to know each other and picking up on each other's similar habits between you both, there was just something so familiar about each other, but neither of you could place it. Seung Hyun felt a connection towards you, always wanting to make sure you were on the right track, you had everything you needed, and you were protected; You felt almost the same, you just felt calm and safe whenever you were with Seung Hyun, it wasn't that you didn't normally feel safe, but you knew if you needed anything, even if it was a pretty rough situation, you could always call him for help. Your new friendship only fueled fan rumors that Seung Hyun was your father even more, especially with how you interacted during the family concerts, your manager would hold after your debut.

After a while though, Seung Hyun took notice to the fact, you'd never really do what you wanted, he never saw you doing any hobbies, or anything really other than work and favors for others. So, one night he'd find you in the recording studio, sitting at the table as you scrolled on your laptop, groaning loudly whenever you hit another dead end. You were getting so close to giving up, starting to believe maybe your dad just wasn't there out, or at least, wanted nothing to do with you. "Hey...What's going on? Need help?" He offered quickly, taking in your pissed off state, you reminded him of your mother, he'd still be oblivious to the fact he was the person you were looking for, instead, only knowing himself as one of your mother's exes. "No, No. I'm um- working" You rambled, scrambling to close your laptop, turning your attention towards him as you sighed "Working, yes, I am also working then- stop lying and tell me what's up" He replied sarcastically before his tone turned serious as he sat down next to you. "Fine, but you can't..tell anybody" You huffed, opening your computer back up to show him everything you had found out so far from your grandmother and aunt about your dad "I just..want to find him, and I know it probably sounds weird and creepy, but I just-" Seung Hyun cut your rambling off by coughing slightly "It's not either of those things, you're just a kid who misses a parent" He replied, scooting closer to read over what was presented on the screen. Seung Hyun had to hide his nervousness as he read further down the list, as he got to the end, he started to do the math in his head, feeling his heart drop slightly whenever he started to get a feeling maybe your mother wasn't entirely truthful about their break-up.

Seung Hyun did his best to stay calm for the rest of the night, not wanting to give you any false hopes, especially with the way you were speaking of your hopes of one day finding him. The next morning though? He was already out of his home as soon as the sun came up, making his way towards your old residence, you now happily living in one of the dorms at the agency building. Whenever your mother ended things with him, she had told this elaborate story about how she was too old to chase around a K-pop idol, being almost five years younger than her, he believed it, not really thinking much of it. As he knocked on your mother's front door though, he started to heavily question her story, which caused frustration to start growing inside of his body. "Hell- No! Get out of here!" Your mother shouted loudly, glaring daggers at Seung Hyun as she huffed, not wanting to accept the fact her almost 18-year-old lie was finally busted. "Y/m/n. We need to speak about Y/n" He demanded, ignoring your mother's protests as he entered the familiar home, it had severely fallen apart since he had been here last, but everything was still in its original place. "Y/n is my daughter. only mine! You have no right coming into my home! You- You disrespectful-" Seung Hyun was quick to cut your mother off with a harsh glare and a scoff "I don't care if I'm disrespecting you! Unless you were unfaithful while we were together- you know as much as I do, That poor kid has grown up without a dad, because of you" He snapped, standing in his spot next to the door as your mother stepped closer, poking his chest as she stood on her tip toes to get in his face "No! Because you weren't capable of being a father! It's your fault! You were young and immature!" She shouted back, hatred dripping from her tone as Seung Hyun took a step back, laughing sarcastically "How could you possibly know, if you never let me know you were having my kid!" He shouted back, freezing whenever he heard the door next to him open "U-Umma?" You whispered, standing in shock as you stared at the both of them, was he serious? You could tell by their shocked and scared facial expressions; you had finally found out the truth. "Y/n.." Seung Hyun started before you took off back out of the door, needing a moment to wrap your head around the information overload you had just received. "Just let her go, she needs time" Your mother huffed, glaring towards your dad one final time "Get. the fuck. out" She snapped, glaring at her in return, Seung Hyun quickly rushed out, calling your name as he tried to spot what way you went.

You'd be walking down the street whenever Seung Hyun would find you, again, your face bright red from the cold wind, and your cheeks stained with tears. Why was your mom acting so hateful lately? Why did they both hide who your father was? Did Seung Hyun know the entire time? What was Seung Hyun saying about not knowing? You were pulled out of your thoughts by a car door shutting, and quick footsteps behind you. "Y/n! Y/n! Would you just stop for a moment!" Seung Hyun demanded, you quickly halted in your spot, slowly turning around to face him "I-I really don't want to talk to you or my mom right now, I'm sorry" You replied softly, feeling bad for saying it, but you just continued on your trail, only stopping whenever your father grabbed your wrist gently "At least get in the car, and get a ride to, I assume, work" Seung Hyun pleaded, he felt terrible for what you were going through, absolutely terrible, but he was also in a whirlwind himself, he was a dad? He had been a dad for the last 17 years? Does that make him a bad one, for not being there?

You'd sit in silence the entire ride, only speaking again whenever Ji-Yong slowly made his way into your recording studio, a place you found yourself being in a lot. "Hey..kiddo" He whispered awkwardly, not really knowing how to start the conversation, you just sighed, turning in your chair to face him. "Seung Hyun told you?" You asked, pulling your knees to your chest as you watched him take a seat on the sofa in front of you. "He told me his feelings. How he feels terrible, that he wasn't there for you, but I don't think it's his fault" Ji-Yong stated, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he waited for a response. "I don't..know..How can you just not know you have a whole child?" You asked, you still weren't sure how to process your situation, you just felt hurt and confused at the moment. Ji-Yong nodded at your words, taking a moment before leaning back against the sofa "I know it's hard to hear, but he really had no idea, kiddo. I know my hyung, we've been best friends for..well forever, and I know if he did know about having a daughter, he would've done everything for you." He explained, getting choked up by his own words as he remembered how hurt and upset Seung Hyun looked whenever he busted into their shared dorm. "I just don't understand why my mom hid it from me, and even then..who says he wants to be my dad? I'm almost an adult now, a-and I mean, I'm not exactly the best crayon in the box, so why would he?" You rambled, hugging your knees tighter around you, as you felt tears building in your eyes; You had always imagined how it would be, if you finally met your father, but now you were just scared. What if he didn't want or like you as a daughter? What if all of those interactions between you both were just pity? Or something he had to do for work?

"Y/n. I couldn't tell you why your mother hid that from you, I'm sorry..but I can't, kiddo..What I can tell you, is that you are amazing, you're not even an adult yet and how many times have your songs been on the top five? But I think the rest of this conversation, should be with you and your father, I can only tell you so much about how he truly feels, he can tell you better than I can" He whispered, nodding towards the door, you took a deep breath before standing up "I-Is he mad at me?..for not talking to him?" You whispered, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands nervously, Ji-Yong just shook his head smiling, noticing how much you reminded him of your father.

You slowly entered the BigBang dorm, and into the bedroom, your eyes quickly meeting your father's as you froze, taking in how utterly broken he looked. His hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot from tears, along with his cheeks being tear-stained. "I-I'm so sorry" He started, you just quietly walked over, hugging him tightly, trying your best to hold back your tears as you felt him sob against your shoulder. "I don't blame you..and I'm not that mad at you..but I know you figured it out the other night" You whispered, trying your best to get him to stop crying, you hated it, you hated anybody crying, your biggest goal in life was trying to make others smile, so crying was the exact opposite of what you wanted. "You didn't have a father" He whispered, hugging you tightly, still in disbelief that he had a daughter, an almost adult daughter at that. "I was a pretty good Oppa to myself" You joked, trying yet again to get him to laugh, only proving slightly successful as he stopped crying, not wanting to pull away from the hug yet. "You shouldn't have had to be a father to yourself, or take care of yourself and your mom, I-I should've been there" He whispered, pulling away from your hug for a moment to have you sit next to him at the end of the bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders gently as he hugged you again "You hug a lot, you know that right?" You laughed, trying to lean away from him, only for him to pull you right back into a hug "I have to make up for seventeen years of hugs, and 'I'm proud of you'- Oh my god! Am I proud of you? So much! I have one of the biggest Idols as my kid! I'm going to brag about that to everybody!" He rambled, causing you to smile softly, your mom had hated the fact you were an Idol, yes, she loved the benefits that came with being an Idol, but she hated everything else about it, so hearing someone close to you was proud, made you want to cry now.

You both sat for what felt like hours, just talking about everything he had missed in your early years of childhood. Eventually you both ended up at his home, him insisting you ate a real dinner, instead of the same cheap pack of noodles every night. As you sat at the kitchen island, you watched as he started plating the food "Do you know why...Umma hid who you were? Why'd you leave? Was it me?" You whispered, tilting your head slightly, wanting to know exactly what the two of them were arguing about, whenever you had walked into your mom's house. "Your mom had her reasons..they weren't very fair reasons...but she had them, As for leaving, I did, but I didn't at the same time, your mom ended things, telling me it was about my career, turns out, it was because she didn't want to share such an amazing kid with any other parents" He explained, not wanting to bash your mother, especially not to you, while he despised your mother for what she had done, he wasn't going as low as talking badly about her to her daughter. "You don't have to lie..I heard you guys through the door, partially" You protested, watching him drop his head in shame with a sigh "She didn't think I was capable of raising a kid" He whispered, hating that he was even talking about the topic with you, frustrated you just shook your head, smacking your hands down on the table "That's so stupid! I wasn't even born yet! How would she know!?" You shouted, standing up as you started to pace the kitchen floor, running a hand through your hair before Seung Hyun stopped you by grabbing your hoodie sleeve gently, pulling you back over to the counter "I agree, I agree, but it's time to eat, so get to the table" He laughed, motioning you away as he followed behind with two plates, and his glass of wine.

After dinner, you were laid sprawled out on the living room floor, Seung Hyun sitting a few feet away on his couch "Please don't die in my floor" He laughed after a moment, watching as you turned your head to look at him "I will die wherever I please, but I might just sleep here" You huffed, moving to slowly climb onto the couch, the meal Seung Hyun had made was absolutely amazing, one of the bests you've ever had. "I don't care if you sleep here, I've got a sofa, or a guest bed, or you can take my room, and I'll take the guest bed" He offered, pointing to each door as he spoke, you just laughed shaking your head "I'll take the guest room, it's your house, and you're like..an old man" You joked, laughing softly as he gave you an offended look, standing up to make your way to the guest room, feeling like you'd fall asleep any moment, you stopped to look back at Seung Hyun. "If it means anything...I think you would've been an awesome Appa..I think you're already an awesome Appa" You whispered before offering him a soft smile, your dad had to hold back tears as he smiled at you softly "It means the world, I think you're an awesome Ttal-a, Y/n" He replied, his voice cracking as he resting a hand over his eyes for a moment, trying his best to hide his tears. "I know" You giggled before shutting the door behind you, moving to lay down on the most comfortable bed, you had ever touched.

As you fell asleep, you contemplated how you were going to talk to your Umma again after this, or even what you'd say. You didn't let yourself think too hard though, falling asleep rather quickly as you heard your father's muffled voice from the living room, most likely on the phone with someone. As you fell asleep, you noticed something you hadn't ever felt before, when falling asleep, you felt comfortable, with no worries, knowing the only thing you had to deal with tomorrow was work. Your life-long search was finally over, yes it hadn't happened how your younger self always pictured, but you wouldn't change it, and you definitely wouldn't change who your Appa was, because for once in your life, you were happy with the answers you had gotten.

What do we think lovelies? I am SO SO SO Sorry this took so long to post :( My week has been the craziest I've had yet, plus I had my younger brother over for majority of the week, but behold! My newest fic, with more to come!! My likely my next story will 100% be a wedding fic 0.0 so make sure to keep an eye out for me lovely ;)

Taglist!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@alexandralibbre

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#choi seunghyun #t.o.p x reader #top x reader #t.o.p #t.o.p icons #t.o.p bigbang #dad! choi seung hyun x reader #choi seung hyun x reader #bigbang x reader #bigbang #g dragon bigbang #g dragon bigbang x reader

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nameless-jamie · 2 days ago

Note

Can we get a story with Shandy doing the videos for the dating app and PA being there?

Maybe she’s a bit snarky with Shandy. And shandy hates that all the team love PA.

Bantr, not Banter.

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: Omg yes! That totally gave me an idea. I hope you like it!

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

The training room buzzed with the usual energy of AFC Richmond’s players as they gathered for the Bantr profile video shoot. Y/N was there too, as always. Where Jamie goes, Y/N goes. As his personal assistant, she was used to being around the team, even in the locker room. She had trained herself to keep her eyes focused on her laptop while the boys were changing. The funny thing was, they didn’t mind her being there at all. In fact, they enjoyed her presence, often asking where she was when she wasn’t around.

Today was no different. Y/N sat on the worn-out couch in the corner of the locker room, laptop open in front of her. She was supposed to be working—answering emails, scheduling Jamie’s endless appointments—but today, that felt impossible. Keeley's friend and PR assistant, Shandy, was there. Totally in her element, camera in hand, ready to capture the players’ finest one-liners for Bantr’s promotional videos.

"Alright, let’s get this party started!" Shandy’s voice rang out, cheerful and grating. "Bantr’s not gonna promote itself, right, guys?"

If you asked Y/N what she thinks of Shandy, she would say she doesn’t really know her. They’ve only spent a few hours together in the locker room with the team, and she wouldn’t judge a book by its cover…

If you asked Y/N again—this time for her honest opinion—she would say that Shandy is a bitch. Chaotic, overconfident, and totally unprofessional. The team would agree with her on that. Shandy knows exactly how to make someone feel uncomfortable, always flirting with every player, from Isaac to Bumbercatch. Worst of all, she flirted the heaviest with a certain Jamie Tartt.

Yes, Jamie was Shandy's latest target. And Y/N didn’t like that one bit. Not that she was jealous or anything… but every time Shandy shot a flirty remark at Jamie, it became harder to pretend she didn’t want to strangle her with the damn camera cord.

Jamie wasn’t too pleased with Shandy’s flirting either.

She had been making sly remarks all day, but Jamie—looking mildly annoyed—had been doing his best to ignore her. He could feel her eyes on him, her attempts to get his attention, but he wasn’t biting. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Shandy, however, wasn’t taking the hint. She leaned in closer, flashing her best flirty smile as she fiddled with the camera. “So, Jamie,” she started, her voice sickeningly sweet, “what do you look for in a woman? Someone who can keep up with you?”

Jamie gave her a flat look, his lips barely curling into a smile. “I don’t know, Shandy,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe someone who knows when to leave me alone.”

Shandy pretended to pout, playing up the act. “Aw, come on, I’m just trying to have a little fun with you, Jamie. You know, we could have a blast together. Maybe after the shoot, we could grab a drink?”

Jamie raised an eyebrow, clearly weirded out by her antics, but too nice to really shut her down. “I’m good. I don’t drink at the moment—you know, with training and everything,” he muttered, his attention flicking over to Y/N, who was busy talking to Van Damme about his catchphrase for his own Bantr video. Jamie sighed. “Can I just say my line now?”

"Alright, Jamie," Shandy purred, adjusting the camera to get a better angle on him. "Tell the ladies what you're looking for in a partner."

Y/N's attention shifted to Jamie as the camera started rolling, curious about what he had rehearsed for the video.

Jamie, ever the charmer, gave a lazy smirk, leaning back in his chair with a cocky grin. "I'm Jamie fucking Tartt. I'm a footballer. And I promise you, I'm so charming, I'll make you laugh all the time… unless you want me to make you cry. Then, well, I’ve got my ways to do that too."

Y/N rolled her eyes at his prickish attitude. The team, however, erupted into woohoos and wolf whistles, clearly entertained.

While the other players were still chuckling at Jamie's flirty punchline, Shandy wasn’t done shooting her shot. She took a step closer, turning the camera off and lowering her voice just a little too much. "Oh, Jamie, I bet you could make me cry in more ways than one. If you don't drink, we could grab something to eat instead. Or your little servant over there could book us a hotel room... whatever you like."

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she looked up from her phone at the mention of herself, sensing the shift in the air. The locker room went quiet, but the glares directed at Shandy—especially from the players—spoke volumes. Her advances were hardly subtle, and Y/N could see it in Jamie’s eyes—he wasn’t interested. Still, it bothered her that Shandy kept pushing it. And calling her a servant? What a fucking b...

Y/N stood up, taking a deep breath. She had no patience for this—especially not today.

"Actually, Sandy," Y/N spoke up.

"Uhm—it's Shandy!" the annoying girl interrupted.

"Sandy, Shandy, Mandy—I don't care," Y/N shot back. "Jamie’s schedule is pretty packed today," she continued, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Training, a meeting with the coaches, and then he’s got to go over next week’s schedule with me. No time for dates—today or ever."

Jamie’s smirk deepened. He was relieved Y/N had saved him from the situation, but more than that, he found the slight jealousy in her voice ridiculously hot.

There was a beat of silence as the words sank in, and Shandy’s mouth opened and closed, a mix of surprise and disbelief crossing her face. Y/N, for a moment, didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes.

“Oh, really?” Shandy finally stammered, clearly caught off guard. “Don’t you have to go fetch coffee or clean up after someone? You’re kind of killing my vibe here, girl.”

The tension in the room thickened, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The team exchanged looks, and before anyone could react, Jamie’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“Woah! Hey, hey,” he said, stepping forward, his face hardening. “Don’t talk to her like that, or we’re gonna have a bit of a problem here.” His eyes locked onto Shandy’s, fierce and unwavering. “She’s off-limits—ask anyone here.”

Shandy scoffed, clearly irritated. She glanced around the room and quickly realized that everyone was staring her down, their expressions a mix of annoyance and disapproval.

“Oh, I see,” she sneered. “You’re defending her, huh? What, is she your little girlfriend or something?”

Jamie’s gaze turned ice cold as he crossed his arms, stepping closer to Y/N as if to shield her from Shandy’s venomous words. Y/N could handle herself just fine, but she had to admit—it was nice having Jamie step in.

But, of course, he wouldn’t be Jamie Tartt if he didn’t make the situation extra.

“Nah,” he said, smirking. “She’s me wife.”

That idiot.

Before Y/N could react, Jamie slung an arm around her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks but quickly composed herself, trying not to let it show. “Cut it out, Jamie,” she whispered, half-smiling as she tried to play it cool. She wasn’t his girlfriend, and she was definitely not his wife, but the title made her heart race. Chill. You’re his assistant, Y/N.

Shandy’s mouth dropped open, her jaw working as if she couldn’t quite process what he had just said. Jamie’s smirk didn’t waver as he turned his attention back to Y/N, throwing her a wink.

Completely flustered, Shandy huffed, muttered a barely coherent “Whatever,” and started packing up her equipment before storming out of the locker room.

The second the door shut behind her, Y/N let out a small laugh and shot Jamie an amused look. “Really? I’m your wife now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s my ring, Tartt?” She wiggled her ring finger in front of his face.

Jamie just shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought it’d shut her up,” he said nonchalantly. “And, well… it kinda worked.”

She’ll get her ring… someday, he thought.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re a mess, Jamie Tartt.”

“And you’re responsible for this mess,” he quipped, giving her a wink, clearly pleased with himself.

The players exchanged knowing glances, smirking to themselves. It seemed the entire room had just witnessed something that felt almost… too perfect.

It was just so obvious to everyone—except them—that they were completely, hopelessly in love.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso show #roy kent #jamie tartt imagine #sam obisanya #afc richmond

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em1989ts · 1 day ago

Text

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.3k

masterlist - based on this request

summary: you and five finally get to live the life you've been fighting for, but he has a hard time adjusting

content: hurt/comfort, death in a nightmare, angst, fluff

author's note: thanks again for the request!! i listened to peace on repeat the entire time i was writing this cause it's just so five, it also happens to be one of my fav taylor songs! my inbox is always open so if you got a request please send it in :) enjoy !!

not proofread!

“Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

~~~

You never thought there’d be the day where you and Five would live together.

You’ve always pictured getting your own place, maybe even a cat, and living that beloved domestic life, but you didn't think it would actually happen.

It seemed like every single time you thought you were safe, another problem quickly made itself known.

But it’s been a few months since the universe was reset, so you finally started to let your guard down.

There seemed to be no apocalypse or assassins following the two of you around in your new lives.

That weight had left your shoulders, yet you could tell it still weighed Five down.

You were both living normal lives now, blending in with the world around you.

Each of the Hargreeves siblings had gone down their own path in life for the second time, and it was time for Five to have the comfortable, normal life you’d always hoped he would have.

Five worked with the CIA, while you worked at a café a couple blocks away from your apartment.

He initially wanted you to stay home, knowing he could provide more than enough for the both of you, but he knew you wanted to live your own life too.

Now that you had all the time in the world, he watched as you gradually grew into your best self.

You explored hobbies, gaining exciting interests you never knew you had, which he admired so dearly.

All he ever wanted was to see you so happy.

But the constant fear of allowing himself to be happy and settled only for that to be ripped away from him never left his mind.

After the universe was reset and the two of you lost your powers, Five grew extremely anxious.

Sure, the two of you had learned combative skills and you were both excellent at defending yourselves, but what if?

That question burned through his mind.

What if the Handler came back?

What if the apocalypse came back?

What if someone hurt you?

What if he couldn’t protect you?

“Ouch-”

Five looked down at his hand, turning slightly pink after he burned it against his mug.

“You okay?” you asked from your seat at the island in your kitchen, looking up from your book.

You had noticed he was particularly stressed today, but you could tell he didn’t feel like talking about it.

He had checked the lock on the door at least four times now. Even the balcony doors were locked with the curtains drawn, blocking the moonlight from entering the mostly dark apartment.

You knew it was hard for him to adjust to a normal life. He had been so focused on surviving for so many years he forgot what it was like to live.

You had tried to help him, and sometimes it worked. He would dance with you while your Frank Sinatra records played in your cozy living room. He would try out new recipes with you.

You loved it most when you could just enjoy each other's company, without a care in the world how much time had passed, because it was never a waste.

The two of you would spend hours together, wrapped up in each other arms or simply leaning on each other. Sometimes you would talk, sometimes you would just enjoy the intimate silence.

You didn’t like the silence now though, as you watched his furrowed brows and shaking hands.

You knew it was hard for him to bring up how he felt. His family always shoved his feelings so far down their list of problems he never felt like they would be important to you.

As much as you reassured him he could always talk to you about anything, he still didn’t want to be a burden.

“I’m fine,” he picked up his mug with one hand and walked around the island over to you. He held your head and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I’m heading to bed,” he said quietly, “Love you.”

You smiled, “Love you, I’ll be there in a minute.”

As he walked into your shared bedroom, you couldn’t help but worry about the man you cared so much about, and you wish you knew how to help him.

~~~

It was happening again.

He was running.

There was so much smoke.

So many flames.

So many bodies.

He frantically looked around, until his eyes landed on the one body he couldn’t handle seeing in such a state.

He was too late. If only he ran faster, if only he couldn’t stopped this, if only he could’ve saved you.

His knees hit the gravel.

He screamed but he couldn’t hear himself.

He hear your voice calling for him

Your mouth was undefinable, but he could tell it wasn’t moving.

The smoke filled his lungs. He couldn’t breathe

“Five!”

~~~

He sat straight up. The cold air hit his sweat covered chest as the sheets flew forward.

He was still screaming as he tried to pry his eyes open with his hands, scratching the vision out of his head.

You were still saying his name and you reached for his eyes, grabbing them tightly and bringing them away from his face.

His eyes were bloodshot and he was shaking intensely, but once his sight focused on you he caged you in with his arms and started bawling.

You had never witnessed one of his nightmares get so bad.

Of course, he’d had several ever since you’d moved in together but he’s never been this disturbed by one.

You could feel his tears in your hair and you could slightly make out his muffled chanting.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Your heart was breaking just seeing him like this, you couldn’t bear him so distressed.

You tried to calm him down as he held you, with soothing whispers and coos to calm his breathing and heart rate.

Once he seemed less frantic, you peeled his arms off you and sat in front of him, holding his hands.

“What happened?” You asked him softly, brushing his hair off his forehead.

He looked as though we were going to cry all over again but he looked down and said, “I lost you.”

“It wasn’t real, Five,” you reassured him, “I’m right here, I’m okay.”

You held his face in your palms, looking into his green eyes.

It pained you to see him so worried.

He held his hand over yours, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I am,” you smiled sadly at him.

“We don’t have to worry about the apocalypse anymore,” you reassured him, “There’s no more commission. There’s nothing coming after us, we’re safe.”

He signed, taking your hands off his cheeks and holding them in his lap, tracing the lines along your palms.

“I want more than anything for you to feel safe, Five. I don’t want to see you so scared to live a normal life, one that we’ve been fighting for so long for.”

A tear ran down his cheek, which you wiped away with your thumb.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just- I want you to be happy. I don’t mean to bother-”

“Please don’t,” you cut him off.

You grabbed the comforter and pulled it over the two of you, tucking you both in.

As you faced him, you said, “You don’t need to apologize.”

Pulling him in, you felt his face bury into your chest as your fingers combed through his dark hair. His breathing slow, his body warm against you, his heart rate slowing.

“As long as I get to live this life with you, Five, I’m happy.”

~~~

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changingplumbob · 3 days ago

Text

Introductions: Isabella - Part 1

Ciao, welcome to Dating Deanna! I'm Devin Villareal and I will be your host. My younger sister Deanna is hoping the paradise that is Tartosa will set the stage for her to find true love. Without further ado, let's meet today's contestant.

Isabella Manalo

Isabella, Belle for short, has always had a love of music. Now she's all grown she takes that love seriously, an aspiring singer. However she does feel as though a muse could could result in her best work yet.

Trying day after day to get attention can be exhausting though, and Isabella admits this has turned her in to a bit of a hot-head. Having relatives who are celebrities in their own right can make it hard to feel seen, something I'll have to remember as I raise my own kids.

Isabella believes she can do anything she puts her mind to however. Can this ambitious contestant win over my sister, or will her desire to succeed put her at odds with the rest of our cast?

Devin: Buongiorno Isabella! I'm sorry it's so cloudy out today

Joey*offscreen*: The watcher is working on it!

Devin: Did you apply for the show or did someone do it for you?

Isabella: I signed up myself. I had to think it through first, though. And then I was sure; I wanted to do this for myself

Devin: Does anyone know you'll be on the show?

Isabella: Just one person; my cousin, Beatrice. She was the first person I went to when I arrived here in Tartosa

Devin: Beatrice Valderama? She is such a great model! But this is about you, how are you feeling about meeting Deanna?

Contestant: I feel… *chuckles* I feel nervous, but also excited. I've never done anything like this before!

Devin: I hope your excitement wins out. Through the doors when you're ready. Break a leg

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #DatingDeanna #DatingDeannaRound0

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strawberriesoup · 19 hours ago

Text

catch me if you can PT. 1,, ✮⋆˙

☆ street racer!han jisung x cop!fem!reader

☆ genre: street racing AU, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, illegal activity

☆ warnings: lots of breaking of the law (like, felony-level breaking of the law), cursing, fire, injury/pain, near death experience, suggestive content

☆ wc: 6.5k

☆ a/n: i'm so happy i finally got to sit down and write this first part out! honestly i'm pretty pleased with it, and i hope this motivation can stay for the remaining parts! for now, enjoy!

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these ❤️❤️

☆ taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools @chancloud8 @hannieslittlerockstar @vixensss @skzpvol @gxtwllsn @yinzgarden @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx @ick2001 @dwesion

if you would like to be added to my series taglist or my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Unstoppable, that’s what you are. There’s just something about the way your engine rumbles when you shove in the clutch and shift to a higher gear, how you can feel your tires grip the road beneath you, it’s thrilling. Yellow lines blur into one as you grip the wheel tighter, focusing your attention solely on the path ahead. Just a little farther.

Your blinker flashes as you signal your turn into the Wal-mart parking lot.

Really, you can’t imagine anything more unintresting than grocery shopping. There’s no excitement in searching through various assortments of oranges and grapes, no blaring horns and revving engines to go along with determining the best jug of milk to buy.

When you had joined the city police force, it’s safe to say that this is not how you were expecting to spend your wednesday afternoons.

How embarrassing. Yes, you know that shopping is a normal— and necessary— part of life, but that’s just the thing. It’s normal. Mundane, tedious, dull… Must you go on? A normal thing for normal people to be doing on normal days. Definitely not the action-filled life you had always dreamed of for all those years.

The bitter taste of disappointment fills your mouth as you sulk through the isles. It’s busy today. Groups of people bustle past, none of them paying you any mind. Good. You keep your head tucked towards the ground, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with someone who might know you. In the back of your mind, you reason that it’s probably ridiculous to be feeling this way. Even still, you don’t lift your face.

The crime rate has been so low recently, with new police recruits popping up left and right, that you aren't even on duty today. While to most that might seem like good news, to you it’s probably the worst news all week. You wish that someone would just start a car chase or something, that way you might get a chance to break the speed limit. Instead,— since you like to manage your expectations somewhat realistically — you’re here, squinting at your shopping list and trying to keep your squeaking cart under control. The gods of choosing a functional shopping cart had not blessed you today.

After an unnecessarily long chat about missing puppies with the sweet old lady who probably broke the world record for the slowest grocery checkout time, you start the trek back out to your car. It shouldn’t be hard to find, given it’s painted a subtle bright crimson. You search the parking lot for the familiar vehicle. Where did you park again? You probably should have paid more attention.

Then, you hear it. At first, you think maybe it’s just the wind whistling around the building behind you. Are you hearing things? No, because there it is again. An unmistakable scream.

Groceries abandoned, you can feel your pulse leap into your temples as you sprint towards the direction of the sound. Whipping your head around, you struggle to get a grip on your surroundings, the midday sun reflecting off the pavement momentarily blinding you.

Another frantic shout brings you to your senses and you are finally able to pinpoint the source of the commotion. Not far off, a cloud of deep black smoke billows from a car on the street. The car had been capsized, shattered glass scattered in a ten-foot radius surrounding it. On first approach, you can’t even tell the front end from the back end. What’s completely unmistakable though, is the gut-dropping smell of an engine fire.

“Mom!” A childs cry rings out above the other panicked voices. A teenage boy holds the little girl in his arms as she rakes at his shoulder in a feeble attempt to break free and run towards the car.

Bystanders are shouting, trying to tear a man away from the door of the car by his arm, shirt, anything they could get a hold of. You can’t tell if the man’s hands are bleeding from the broken glass or from pulling on the door so hard. Who knows, maybe it’s both.

You don’t know if you’ve ever sprung into action so fast. One second you’re assessing the situation, the next you’re shoving people out of the way to access the door.

The window frame had been crushed so much you can barely even see inside the vehicle, let alone utilize it as a viable method of escape. Judging by the lack of law enforcement around the scene, you can tell the car hasn’t been on fire for long. Good. Even though the foul rank of the engine smoke invades your senses, it’s safe to say the vehicle won’t explode. Yet.

Maybe the other door isn’t stuck. You quickly move to the opposite side and tug at the handle, but immediately jerk your hand back when the metal burns your skin. Angrily, you tug a hand across your face. Think. You need to think. Come on, think.

There. A window that hadn’t been shattered, the back windshield. To access it, you’d have to crawl under the trunk and break it open. If you do that, there’s a good chance you won’t be able to turn back around easily once inside, if at all. You can’t tell to what degree the person inside is injured, but you take the lack of any sort of cry for help as a bad sign.

The desperate wails of the little girl make up your mind for you. There’s no time to lose. You need to get this done, and get it done fast.

Shrugging off your purse, jacket, and anything that could possibly get snagged in the car, you squeeze under the trunk. It’s uncomfortably warm, reminding you of the very real possiblility of explosion once the fire reaches the fuel tank. All your faith is funneled into your pocket knife as you jam the back of it into the windshield. Nothing.

Again, you wind back the knife. A yell escapes you as you once again ram it into the window with all your might. Still, it doesn’t yield.

Shit. shit. You have to get in there. You can see the outline of what looks to be a human form inside the car, but no movement. One more time. You can do this.

The man that had been tugging at the door is kneeling behind you, unable to fit underneath the car. He reaches under, stretching his red-stained fingers towards you. At first, you don’t understand what he’s trying to do. Then, it clicks. Wrapping his hand around your own, The knife is encompassed beneath both of your hands. The man’s voice is hoarse as he counts to three. Together, you drive the tool into the windshield.

Finally, the window shatters with a crash. Dark smoke pours out, stinging your eyes and forcing a cough from your lungs. Wasting no time, you squeeze the man’s hand before taking a deep breath and ducking inside.

Shattered glass slices open your palm and you hiss at the white flash of pain. There’s no time to check the damage right now, you’ll deal with injuries later. You tearily squint through the smoke, finally laying your eyes upon a still figure in the passenger’s seat. Still buckled in, she hangs awkwardly from the seat, supported by the seatbelt.

A drop of sweat falls into your eyes. The heat alone is suffocating, but paired with the smoke the conditions are nearly unbearable. The steadily ticking clock of oxygen deprivation hangs heavy over your head, you won’t be of much help if you’re passed out. You grunt as you stretch your arm up to reach for the buckle.

With a click, the woman falls from the seat. No movement. You can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

How the fuck are you going to get her out of here? The car interior around you suddenly feels too small, your vision beginning to spin. No, get a handle of yourself. These people are depending on you. That little girl is depending on you. The image of the little girl’s face, twisted with fear and desperation, fuels you to set your jaw and grab a hold of the woman’s arm.

If you can just pull her past you, you might be able to push her the rest of the way, getting her out as quickly as possible for medical attention, as EMS should be here soon. As if on cue, you hear blaring sirens steadily approching over the crackling of the fire.

Straining, you are able to tug at the woman until she’s past you. Blood roars in your ears as you use the rest of your energy to try and push her the rest of the way. It’s not graceful by any means, but you manage to shove her far enough towards the shattered window for her to be pulled out by a team of gloved hands.

You collapse onto the floor below. Dark fog breaches the corners of your vision. Is that the smoke? Maybe. You can’t even tell at this point. A cough wracks its way through your body as the pulse of adrenaline leaves you.

Well, at least you were able to help. You can feel your eyelids slowly blinking closed, despite your efforts to fight it.

What’s left of your vision is suddenly blocked by… a face? Holy shit. Did you die? In front of you hovers a face that looks like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. A perfectly angled nose sits between two dark eyes that remind you of the cool blanket of night. His lips are moving and you lament over the fact you can’t hear his voice due to an annoyingly loud ringing filling your ears. If this is what heaven is like, you don’t think you mind dying so much.

You can distantly feel your body being lifted as you drift out of conciousness.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“That was some crazy shit back there, y’know.”

You blink your eyes open, focusing on the source of the familiar voice next to you. It’s Seungmin, your patrol partner. He’s sitting on the edge of the ambulance, knee bouncing up and down. His stare, unreadable as always, greets you. You let out a much-needed sigh of relief. As much as he gets on your nerves, you are definitely more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Seungmin? What happened? Is that— ow, shit!” You sit up too fast from your stretcher and immediately need to lay back down due to a stabbing pain in your skull. “Is that lady okay?” as the sharp pain withdraws into a dull throb, the past events slowly resurface in your mind. Wait. That guy. The one who you saw just before you passed out, who was he? You had never seen him before. Was he even real?

“Well, I’m not sure if ‘okay’ is the right word to use, but she’s alive at least. She was rushed to the hospital along with her family members as soon as you got her out.” Seungmin crosses over to you, leaning on the edge of your stretcher. You can see him better now, and from here you can catch the slightest bit of worry in his features that was not evident in his voice previously. “Which, by the way, that little stunt of yours almost got you killed. If that guy hadn’t gotten you out of there when he did, you would have been crushed.”

So he was real.

According to Seungmin, right after you had been dragged out, the frame of the car completely collapsed; which would have effectively both trapped you inside and squished you. He’s about to continue with details about how next you probably would have caught on fire, before you punch him square in the arm, earning a cry of pain from both you and Seungmin. You shake the pain out of your bandaged hand as you are painfully reminded of that piece of glass that had cut you.

“Anyways,” you scowl at him when he sends you a not-so-apologetic look, “who was that guy? Is he a new police recruit? I’ve never seen him before.” The only reason you know that for sure is because you would never have forgotten that face. You can picture him in your mind right now. You’ve never seen anyone so… well, perfect.

“No, he’s not. Just some civilian who was stupid enough to jump into a flaming car to save your sorry ass,” Seungmin waves away your indignant defenses and heads off towards a group of officers outside the ambulance, “It was a hit and run, the bastard who caused this mess drove off someplace so we’re trying to see—”

“Where did he go?”

Seungmin faces you, caught off-guard. “What?”

“That guy, where’d he go?” You repeat your question, obviously not at all intrested in whatever was going on with the other officers.

Seungmin’s eyebrows lower as he rolls his eyes and turns away once more. “I dunno, haven’t seen him,” he comments over his shoulder helpfully. Then, he’s gone.

Ugh.

Fuck you, Kim Seungmin

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You have to find him. You will not be able to function as a member of society without knowing that he’s an actual person and not just a result of some hallucination. You had asked every single one of the officers and bystanders at the scene if they knew even just his name (you did not appreciate Seungmin making faces at you the whole time, thank you very much) to no avail; nobody knew anything about this mysterious man.

Fine then. You’ll just have to find him yourself.

Weeks go by, and his face never leaves your mind. Sometimes you swear you can see a flash of his honey skin, or those gorgeous eyes, only to look up and realize with disappointment it is in fact, not him. You wonder how many random passerby you have given an unexplainably sour face. Not that it matters what they thought of you. They probably worked a nine to five at some boring old desk.

One night, Seungmin had caught you searching through the criminal records. Maybe it was a stretch, but hey, you were desperate. You had just reached the ‘H’ column when he snuck up behind you. Upon him tapping your shoulder with a “Whatcha doing” on his lips, you had jumped three feet in the air and quickly closed the tab, responding with a very convincing “Nothing!” and rushing out of the room.

Just a name, that’s all you need. Is that really too much to ask?

Suited up in your standard police attire, you wait in line at your favorite coffee place before your night shift with Seungmin. You had finally been scheduled a full eight hours, but honestly your mind was anywhere but work. The bustling coffee shop atmosphere and the overwhelming smell of coffee does nothing for your scattered thoughts. Why the hell are so many people in line for coffee at 10:00 at night?

“One iced americano for Han Jisung?” The barista calls out the next order.

No way. There’s actually no way.

You have to do a triple take to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. It’s really him. You would recognize his face anywhere.

He’s just as stunning as when you had first seen him. Eyes that same dusky brown, nose that same perfect shape. He has a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, his hair falling from them in loose waves around his face, framing him like an artwork from the renaissance period. The way he holds himself, too. A casual swagger that so few people can pull off, but he wears it so naturally; completely at ease. One hand in his pocket, he smiles at the barista as she hands him his order, somehow lighting up the entire room with simply his expression.

You are so awestruck that it takes you a second to realize that he’s turned his attention directly to you.

When you do realize though, your heart drops right into your ass. Your first instinct is to jump your gaze to the floor or the ceiling, feigning nonchalance, but you’ve been hyper fixated on his face for so long you cannot bring yourself to look away.

His eyes spark with recognition. You can tell by the way his eyebrows raise amicably as he starts heading towards you. Your heart speeds up to about a million miles per hour.

That is until he looks you up and down. His expression drops and his eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before returning to his previous smile, but this time it feels just a little forced. As he passes you, he nods politely and sweeps past without so much as a word.

What just happened? You watch as he exits the coffee shop. Wait, no, you can’t lose him now, you at least need to thank him. He did save your life after all.

You hustle past the long line much less gracefully than he, catching him outside the door before he can cross the street.

“Hey, wait up!” You call after his retreating form. You see him pause, but he doesn't turn around as you jog up to him. “It’s you! Jisung, right?”

Finally, he faces you. His sunglasses now sit neatly on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his eyes from sight. You can’t detect any of the uncomfort from before in his features. Did you imagine that? Maybe he’s just in a hurry.

“That’s me,” Jisung says, a cute little chuckle punctuates the end of his sentence. His voice is sweet, reminding you of warm brown sugar and butter. Your heart skips a beat as he addresses you with that grin of his, “can I help you with anything, officer?”

It takes you a second to respond, the way he tilts his head at you whilst waiting for a response has you feeling all kinds of weird, bubbly feelings in your chest. You stomp them down and clear your throat.

“No, no I actually wanted to thank you. You know, for saving me. You really didn’t— I mean that was really… courageous of you. And stuff. Anyways. yeah, thanks.” You finish awkwardly, stumbling over your words. Damn it.

Jisung laughs. A beautiful sound, really.

“Thought I recognized you! You’re the pretty little thing who saved that lady from the fire. Gotta hand it to you, officer, you’ve got some guts in there.” He gestures to your badge with a tilt of his head, leaning back on the crosswalk pole and sticking one hand in his pocket.

You’re pretty sure your brain short-circuited at the words ‘pretty little thing’ and you’re not quite sure how to answer, your mouth opening and closing a few times, but no words falling from it.

Jisung grins at your tongue-tied state, letting out another amused huff of laughter and hitting the crosswalk button.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, but you stay safe out there ok? Don’t go jumping into any more flaming vehicles if you can possibly help it, next time I might not be there,” He clicks his teeth and you swear you can see him wink from under his shades. The crosswalk changes to give Jisung the right of way and he heads off across the street.

There you stand, a blushing mess, watching as he heads to a nearby parking spot.

Wait a second, is that his car?

Jisung closes the door to a Chevrolet Camaro, colored in a tasteful matte black. Are you kidding? No, this has got to be a joke, there’s no way he has that car. As the engine purrs to life, you can feel the rumbling vibration in your chest even from across the street. When he pulls out, it’s evident just how suped up it is. There’s an added spoiler on the back and… are those LED lights on the rims? That’s it. You might actually be in love.

The hum of the engine steadily approaches as he pulls up next to you on the street, rolling down the window and looking up at you and your wide eyes.

“Like what you see, officer?” Jisung raises his eyebrows teasingly, a smug little smirk playing on his lips. If it had been anyone else, you’re sure you would be enraged by the expression, but there’s something about him that makes it hot rather than insufferable. He hangs an elbow out the window, lightly tapping his fingers to the bass of some song that plays from his speakers as you take in the vehicle.

“Shut the fuck up, this is yours?” You raise your voice over the sound of the engine, leaning in closer so he can hear you. You momentarily forget that you’re technically on duty right now.

There it is again, that hearty laugh of his. Definitely one of your new favorite sounds.

“Yes ma’am, all mine,” Jisung pulls up his sunglasses, finally giving you a clear view of his face. His face that’s looking more mischievous by the minute. “Maybe one day you’ll do me the honor of taking you for a spin, how’s that sound?” He reaches out and lightly flicks his index finger up the bottom of your chin. Your stomach explodes with butterflies as a result.

“I’m…” You consider your options. Is he serious? He’s definitely flirting with you. Right? He literally just touched your chin while asking if you wanted a ride in his car. He’s definitely flirting. Yeah.

“I’m free tomorrow,” You blurt, against your better judgment. There’s no way in hell you’re going to turn down a opportunity like this.

“Same time, same place?”

You glance at your watch. 10:30 p.m. You should be in the patrol car with Seungmin right about now.

“That works,” You nod. Your answer is a little shaky, but you hide it well.

“Guess I’ll see you then, officer,” Jisung flashes you one last smile, scrunching up his nose and throwing you a half salute. He revvs up his engine once, twice, and then he’s gone.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your legs shake as you head back into the coffee shop to re-order a cup of coffee. You’re going to need it.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

This is stupid. Like, really dumb. You can’t believe you’re doing this.

You’ve been sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop for the past fifteen minutes. Granted, you’re the one who decided to show up fifteen minutes early, but you’re starting to regret that decision. At least it’s not cold out.

You had spent probably a good three hours debating what the hell you were going to wear. Might seem excessive but there were just so many points to consider. What if you come off too strong? but then again, you wouldn't want to underdress. Or overdress. It’s not even a date, he’s just giving you a ride around, right? Why are you stressing so much?

And so here you wait in your cute little mid-thigh skirt, having decided with a nod that it was a safe bet all around. Plus, it makes your legs look great.

You’re definitely thinking about this too hard.

A quick beep of a car horn catches your attention. You look up right as you feel the distinct purr of Jisung’s engine rumbling in your bones. Thank God, he actually came.

You’re not sure if you’re jittering from the excitement of going on a— Date? You really don’t want to make any assumptions because he hadn’t straight up asked you on a date per say— with the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on or the excitement of getting to ride in his car. Maybe both. You clench and unclench your fists in anticipation. You’re positively itching to feel what it’s like on the road.

Jisung exits the low car smoothly, heading towards you with a wave. His eyes scrunch up at the corners when he smiles, painting his expression with such a lovely friendliness that makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry. His outfit drastically contrasts his inviting face though, he’s dressed in dark grey washed jeans and a burnt orange short sleeve that hugs his upper body almost skin-tight, a jacket tied loosely around his waist. The duality of man, you suppose. The slicked back style of his hair on top of literally everything else about him screams one thing. This man looks like a goddamn racer.

As soon as you realize you’ve been gawping at him for a good couple of moments now, you snap your focus up to his eyes, already feeling a blush creeping it’s way across your cheeks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, officer,” Jisung gives you a quick up and down, meeting your eyes afterwards with a look that can only be described as playfulness.

Oh he just knows he’s hot, doesn’t he? Obviously you’re not going to argue, because he’s right.

“Oh my god, don’t call me that,” You protest, lightly punching his arm in retaliation. You definitely don’t miss the unmistakable feeling of muscle under your fist, but that’s really besides the point. The point is he has you all bothered and shit with that nickname. You’ve never been called ‘officer’ so… affectionately.

“You’re right,” He raises his hands in defense, “my bad, babe.”

A retort shrivels on your tongue. You’re pretty sure you can feel your body temprature go up at least two degrees as Jisung heads back to his car, beckoning you to follow him. His back is turned but you can already imagine that little self-satisfied smirk on his face.

He’s going to be the death of you.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You can feel the weight of your body being pressed back into the seat as Jisung speeds up his pace, making your eyes nearly roll back into your head.

The engine roars in your ears as you watch the speedometer whip from zero to sixty in the span of three point five seconds. You can’t help but have a wide grin plastered on your face. It feels like a good stretch after a day of sitting on the couch, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve just, well, drove. Carefree, without the looming restriction of a speed limit or the stress of swerving after a runaway car. Just you and the road. And Jisung, but that’s a plus.

One of the biggest reasons you had strived to join the police force throughout the beginning of your adolescence is that you just could not get enough of that adrenaline rush that comes from zooming down the highway at outrageous hours of the night, competing with your high school friends to see who’s car could accelerate the quicket, maintain the best speed, sound the coolest. The amount of sleepness nights you had spent installing countless upgrades on your car just to beat your friends in some silly bet over a couple of dollars instilled in you the certainty that this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

You had foolishly thought that becoming an officer would cure that hunger burning in your gut, but it just made it worse. You didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten until just now, the familiar sound of hopping gears and the healthy rev of a well-loved engine resurfaces so many emotions that you had so carefully stowed away when you had all graduated and moved on to university, no longer having the time or bravery to risk getting caught anymore.

You glance over at Jisung in the driver’s seat. He looks so at ease, you can tell this is his home, his element. You wonder if he feels the same emptiness by adhereing to the law that you do. It seems taboo to think that way, given your occupation, but you can’t help it.

Jisung flicks on his blinker to exit the highway, and you give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?” You inquire as he slows to a stop at the intersection.

“Thought it would be nice to go to dinner, don’t you think so?” He glances down either side of the street to ensure it’s clear as he proposes the offer.

Maybe that empty feeling in your stomach was hunger.

“Yeah, actually, I do think so.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The restaurant seems strangely empty. A few of the white-clothed tables scattered about the hall are occupied by the quiet bubble of conversation, but other than that the atmosphere is quite still.

Jisung pulls out your chair for you, flamboyantly flipping his hand into a bow as he waits for you to sit. You roll your eyes, badly supressing a smile as you slide into the seat with as much grace as you can manage.

You had both just picked up the menus that had been set in front of you when a low whistle sounds from behind you.

“Who’s the pretty lady, huh, J? Finally found the time to go through that roster of yours?” Your body tenses as someone approaches from the side. You quickly turn your head to get a better view of the newcomer. Oh wow. Was Jisung just friends with hot people in general?

“Ha ha.” Jisung pulls a half-amused face at the man, and gestures to the seat next to him. “This is Changbin. He’s not usually like this, I swear,” Jisung reassures you, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as Changbin plops down on the seat over. Despite his bold entrance, he nods politely at you in greeting. It becomes evident that he’s just trying to mess with Jisung, meaning no ill-intent (or even much intrest) towards you. You let your muscles relax.

“Well, were you gonna bring her with us tonight?” Changbin gestures towards you, “you know they always get their panties in a twist when one of us has a girl on our arm—”

“She works in law enforcement, isn’t that cool?” Jisung announces a little too loudly, interrupting Changbin, who immediately snaps his mouth shut.

You don’t miss the way Jisung quirks an eyebrow ever-so-slightly at him, a warning. Huh. Your eyes squint in suspicion. What’s this all about?

“Bring me where?” You question Changbin innocently, pushing past Jisung’s subject change and batting your eyes once or twice, just for good measure.

“Bring you to— well, I mean, It’s a place. Definitely. Yeah. Bring you to a place. Somewhere,” Changbin keeps glancing at Jisung as he speaks, who is currently pinching his nosebridge between two fingers, head tilted towards the ceiling.

Changbin falls silent after that, suddenly very intrested in the condition of his shoelaces. You shift your gaze between the two men as an awkward pause falls over the table.

After a long sigh eminating from Jisung, he leans forwards on the table, hands clasped in front of him. His voice is lowered as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes bore into your own, not breaking contact as your mind starts running a mile a minute.

Now, the logical answer you would give to a stranger you hardly know is a resounding ‘of course not,’ but this isn’t just anyone. It’s Jisung. The man who risked his very life to save yours, out of the pure goodness of his heart. You can’t imagine not trusting him, you realize. Because you do, you trust him more than you trust yourself, because he did what you couldn’t that day. Without him, you wouldn’t even be here.

“…Yes, I trust you,” You respond, conviction clear in your voice.

Jisung lets out a breath, once again settling back in his chair.

“Then buckle up babe, ‘cause you’re in for a wild night,” He says with a soft chuckle, just as a loud commotion breaks through the restaurant and crowds of people start to pour in through the front door.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jisung is a racer. A street racer, to be specific. Very dangerous, and definitely very illegal.

The restaurant turned out to be a meeting point for two rival districts to compete in some sort of tiebreaker race tonight, and it seems like nearly the entire city had come to watch. Jisung had dragged you through the bustling hall off into a corner, where he met up with Changbin and one other racer. You think you heard the name ‘Chan’ but you’re not too sure. It’s quite loud when you have a room filled with excited fans shouting bets this way and that, sure that their district will win and that they’ll walk home with the jackpot.

Jisung, Changbin, and Chan form a three person racing team. They call themselves ‘3racha’. You thought the name was a joke at first, but the laugh caught in your throat when you realized they were being dead serious. Right now the three are huddled together, murmuring over the pre-determined race course, deciding on any last minute strategies.

Right about now, you should be alerting your police team of the highly illegal activity buzzing all around you. Troops would be sent in immediately and the whole event would be shut down, arrests being made left and right.

But, you don’t want that to happen. Not in the slightest.

You know could lose everything over this, your career, your friends, your reputation. None of that matters to you right now. All you want is to see Jisung and his team race.

Not far off, a group that you assume to be the opposing team stares daggers at 3racha, the tallest one of them making eye contact with you. He says something with a scoff, but you can’t make it out just by reading his lips. Whatever it was though, his other two teammates found it hilarious, one doubling over with laughter and the other giving him a jovial smack on the back.

You back away from their prying eyes, accidentally colliding with Jisung in the process. He looks up at you as you send him a quick ‘sorry’, then he shifts his gaze to the still chortling trio. You can see something in his normally soft gaze harden as he straightens up and reaches an arm around your shoulder, gently but firmly pulling you flush to him.

His physical presence overwhelms your senses, suddenly wrapped in a blanket that dulls the rest of the chaos out. You’re positive he can feel your heart racing as he leans in to whisper in your ear,

“I need you to ignore them, okay? They’re just trying to get us bothered, and you’re an easy target for them. Just stick by us. Can you do that for me?” His breath tickles your ear with every syllable he speaks, making your legs weak. You manage a nod and he pulls away from you with a reassuring pat to your shoulder.

Changbin sends a not-so-discreet middle finger their way, which earns both a scowl from the them and a reprimanding tap on the back of the head from Chan.

Frankly, you are a bit overwhelmed. Even though it was just for a second, you miss Jisung’s calming arm around you. Without it, you feel like you are drowning in the unfamiliar voices babbling every which way, every conversation fighting to be understood in your mind at once. Usually, you know exactly how to handle any given situation with a clear mind— it’s part of your job after all— but this? It’s all so foreign to you you don’t even know where to begin.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, the crowd forms a clear space around both of the teams, allowing room for them to exit the building and enter their vehicles. You scurry after 3racha, feeling quite out of place.

It was to be a relay race. The rules are simple: Three laps around the entire course, each lap assigned to a respective member of each team. Whichever team’s car crosses the finish line first, wins the tiebreaker and takes home the prize. You can tell that mountains of cash are on the line for the boys. Some of the numbers you hear thrown around have your eyes as wide as saucers. If 3racha really is that good, it’s no wonder Jisung is able to afford the kind of car he has.

You’re watching Jisung do a once over of his car, ensuring that everything is safely in order, when he crosses over to you, extending his hand. You furrow your brows, slightly confused, but you take his hand. He smiles, wrapping his fingers tightly around you and squeezing once.

“I want you to ride with me, please?” He says, eyes never leaving your face. You stand in silence for a moment, just soaking in the weight of his hand and the familiarness of his face. The curve of his eyebrow, the slope of his nose, the way his bottom lip always seems to pout out just a little bit, and, oh, those eyes. You feel like you’ve known him for your entire life.

You feel yourself break into a smile.

“Let’s go then,” you squeeze his hand in return.

Jisung’s engine roars to life as him and the other first racer, the tall one’s name is apparently Hyunjin, line up at the designated starting line. 3racha had implored that Jisung go for the first lap, so they would have a healthy leg up on the competition come the second lap, where Changbin would be waiting.

As you wait for the countdown to start your knee bounces up and down, the sickly feeling of intense anticipation eating its way through your stomach.

You feel Jisung’s gaze as he glances over at you, a half grin on his face. What’s he thinking? Your internal question is soon answered as he reaches over and grabs your hand, guiding it to rest on the gearshift.

“10!” A loud voice bellows from a megaphone from outside. The countdown has begun.

Jisung clasps his hand over your own, capturing you in between himself and the vehicle. He’s so warm. Meeting your eyes, he gives you a reassuring nod when he spots your expression, running a thumb along the back of your hand. Now your heart is pounding for a different reason.

“3!” The revving of engines combines with the rush of blood in your ears, the vibrations sending a chill up your spine.

“2!”

“1!”

“Go!”

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