#i remember having to look up summaries after reading the chapters to really understand what was happening there

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy read Lizzie's letter and meet with Michael after his return from America.

Word Count: 5,823

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, polyamory, references to pregnancy, and an unhappy marriage.

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Chapter 6: A Display in the Dark

“Fucking hell.” 

That was the first thing that passed Tommy’s lips when he was done reading the letter Lizzie had given Lucy to pass onto him. Lucy watched him toss the pages of closely-scrawled words onto his desk, ripping off his glasses to set down beside them. 

She’d read the letter over his shoulder, squinting at the various spelling and grammatical errors throughout. Lucy wondered if maybe Lizzie had been drunk while writing at least some of it. She didn’t remember any of the work that she’d done as Tommy’s secretary being so sloppy.

The contempt which seemed to bleed out through the words scrawled on the pages was a stark contrast from the apologetic, saddened Lizzie she had spoken to not even an hour ago. But she supposed that she shouldn’t be all that surprised. That was how Lizzie was: sweet one moment, then wrathful in the next.

And to think that they all called her two-faced.

“I can’t really say if that was what I was expecting or not,” she commented, turning to look out the window at the darkened grounds. “What do you want to do about it?”

Tommy leaned back in his chair to rub at his eyes. He looked exhausted, dark circles swelling beneath his blue irises. “Nothing right now.”

She frowned. “Nothing? She’s talking about divorce, Tommy.”

“Yeah. If I don’t change.” His hand dropped to fold with the other in his lap, thumbs twiddling. “I don’t think that I can, Lucy,” his voice was quiet. She drew in closer to him, his distress serving like a beacon that summoned her to climb into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his forehead. 

“You shouldn’t have to just to make her happy.” If she really loved him, she’d have loved him as he was, rather than demanding he change everything about himself just to please her. It baffled her that Lizzie couldn’t understand that.

Tommy dropped his face to rest against her collarbone, thumb circling around her hip bone after his hands came to rest on her waist.

“So what do we do?” she asked, nose pressing into his soft hair. “Let her leave? I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but it’ll kick up all sorts of other problems…”

“I know,” he sighed, the puff of breath warm on her skin. “I’ll talk to her first. See if I can think of something to at least indulge her for a little while.”

“She acts like she’s living some horrible, deprived life.” She looked around at the enormous, ornate room they were seated in. Lined with bookshelves and expensive furniture with custom-made paintings hanging on the walls. “Outside of your love, it’s not like she wants for anything here.” 

“Every time that I think she’s getting better, that she’s starting to accept…things, she slides back to where she was before.” He leaned closer into her. “I don’t know what more to do for her. I’m not sending you away, and I can’t pretend to feel about her in a way that I don’t.”

“Mm. She’d probably know you’re pretending and just get more angry about it, anyway.” Lucy started to stroke his hair. Her gaze drew back to the letter still laid out on the table, eyeing in warily. “I am surprised that she didn’t try to demand that you get rid of me.” It had been a notable omission in the letter, considering she knew that it was a spot of deep contention for Lizzie. Maybe, just maybe, that was a sign of some miniscule of progress. 

“She knows that’s not an argument she’s going to win.”

Lucy leaned back just enough to be able to cup one of his cheeks, smiling a little in spite of herself at his eternal protectiveness over her. “Is it terrible that knowing that makes me happy?”

He shook his head, arms tightening around her. “She flat out refused to apologize for what she said about you, did you know that?”

“I figured as much.” She thought back to her latest chess game with Lizzie; how Lizzie had notably apologized for Charlie overhearing, but not for what she’d actually said. 

“You’re not terrible,” he asserted firmly, leaning in to kiss her. “Not even a little.”

“Well…” she smiled against his lips. “I have killed quite a lot of people.” She giggled between kisses at the approving purr that came from his chest. 

“And your point is…?”

She laughed at his unbothered tone, kissing him back more firmly, humming when one of his big hands found its way into her hair. 

“Let’s not worry about her anymore right now,” Tommy whispered, tugging her closer.

A pang of remorse crackled through her at how easy it was for both of them to put Lizzie out of their minds. But then Tommy’s tongue slid into her mouth, and she became guilty of the very thing she’d moments ago been feeling ashamed of. 

“It’s late,” he murmured, arms squeezing around her. “Let’s go to bed.” 

She nodded in agreement, kissing him once more before climbing from his lap, biting back a grin at the way he chased her with his lips, a small whine leaving his throat. Taking hold of his hand, she pulled him up out of his chair, starting to lead the way around his desk and to the door. 

“Wait,” he came to a stop. She watched as he gathered up the pages of Lizzie’s letter. His hand was still clutched firmly in hers, meaning that she was pulled along with him when he went to the fireplace. Kneeling, Tommy started to feed the first page of the letter into the cheerily crackling flames, watching it catch and start to blacken and curl at the edges before tossing it the rest of the way into the inferno. He divided the pages evenly between the two of them, and together they fed page after page of Lizzie’s letter into the fire, watching as the messy scrawl and resentful black words were swallowed up and eradicated completely. 

“Feeling better?” Lucy asked, leaning her head against Tommy's shoulder, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. 

“Yeah,” he kissed her hair, then doused the fire. Taking her hand again, he stood. “Come on.”

They made it back to her room in record time, Tommy practically pouncing on her as soon as the door was shut. Lucy giggled as his mouth crashed down onto hers, cupping both sides of his face while his hands ran all over her. The warmth of his palms burned through her clothes, grabbing at the swell of her hips, then making their way up to squeeze her clothed breasts. Her thighs pressed together as an ache began to build between them. Movements quick, if a little fumbling, she set to work at getting him out of his clothes.  

His chest rumbled under her palms once she’d pushed his button-down off of his shoulders and slid the undershirt over his head, smoothing her hands across his naked skin. He’d been hard at work getting her own clothing unfastened, and it did not take long for her to be entirely bare before him. Arms going around his neck, she let out a rasped moan into their kiss as he palmed one of her breasts with one hand, thumb running over her hardened nipple. 

“Tommy…”

“I know. I know. Come here.”

She hadn’t thought it possible for them to get any closer, and yet somehow he managed, hand on the center of her back pressing her tighter against him, and then he began to walk them with somewhat staggering steps in the general direction of the bed. 

He groaned lowly when her hands slipped lower to cup the growing bulge in his trousers, giving him a soft squeeze that had him bucking into her hand. The backs of her legs knocked against the mattress, and then he was laying her down gently onto it, catching himself with his hands planted on either side of her head as he lowered himself on top of her. 

The groan he released into her mouth as she hitched her legs up around his waist was delicious. She could feel his bulge pressing into her belly, his mouth moving more insistently on hers while his hands roamed her body. A whine left her lips when he pinched one of her nipples, legs tightening around him. He groaned again against her mouth, migrating from her lips to her neck, and she suddenly found herself very annoyed that he was still wearing his trousers.

As he moved to lavish her breasts with his mouth, she ran her fingers calculatingly down his strong back, feeling the shift and flex of his muscles as he moved over her. He was exquisite. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Hands moving lower, she circled her fingers around his belt loops and pulled him closer, giving an impatient yank to his belt buckle for good measure. 

Tommy chuckled, tongue encircling one of her nipples before drawing it into his mouth. She jumped when his hand found its way between her thighs, testing her wetness with two fingers. 

“Impatient,” he tutted at her whimpering and pushing her hips closer to his hand, trying to get his fingers to go deeper inside her. 

“Tease,” she shot back, glaring playfully up at him. The wolfish grin splitting his face only grew, eyes dancing deviously with it. His thumb rolled across her clit, and she made a rather undignified sound, back arching. “Tommy, please.”

“Mm, but what if I want to keep you like this?” he cocked his head in mock contemplation, long lashes fluttering innocently against his cheekbones. “Keep you squirming and begging for me…” he grazed his lips across her cheek and curled his fingers inside her, just brushing up against the spot that had her head tipping back with a soft sigh. “That’s it…” his lips ghosted over her cheek as he leaned in closer, drawing his fingers out, slowly trailing them up and down her folds. Then slowly sinking them back in. At her moan and back arching, he pressed his body closer to hers. “That’s it.”

“You could at least take your trousers off,” she pouted, reaching around to give his clothed ass a squeeze. Her gaze went to the sizable bulge still pressing into her thigh. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?” 

His hips shifted a little, no doubt feeling the tightness of the fabric constraining around his bulging cock. Sneaking her hand between them, Lucy cupped him in her palm, feeling the weight and pulse of his flesh even through the thick material of his clothes. A low grunt left Tommy’s lips, erection pushing into her hand. 

Lucy grinned, but her triumph was short-lived. His fingers retracted from her cunt, both hands seizing hers, pinning them to the mattress by her head.

“Behave,” he growled, with no real weight or threat behind the word. Lucy smirked up at him, turning her hands to instead thread their fingers together, angling her head up to kiss him. 

“No.” Soon as he was distracted by the press of their lips together, she squeezed at his hands, tightened her legs around his waist, and gave a strong twist to her hips. Rolling them so that he was the one with his back to the mattress. “I don’t think that I will,”  she whispered against his mouth, taking his face in both of her hands. 

Tommy’s eyes widened, surprise quickly melting away into delight. She felt where their chests were pressed together as his breath caught, hands going to her waist and lips curling upwards. Showing no complaint at her sudden seizing of the reins, he merely drew her closer, encouraging her to grind down onto him. 

She indulged him for a moment before becoming impatient again, rising off to pull free his belt and push his trousers and shorts off. Tommy obediently lifted his hips to help her, and it wasn’t lost on her how he let out a soft sigh of relief as his cock was freed from the straining material to bob against his stomach. Red and throbbing.   

Wrapping her palm loosely around him, thumb teasing at the weeping tip, she maneuvered herself to kneel between his legs. Tommy propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she eyed her prize where it pulsed in her hand. 

Fixing her gaze squarely on his, she leaned forward, and licked a stripe across the tip. With a groan, Tommy tipped his head back, eyes fluttering closed as she gave just the tip of him a few sucks. His mouth dropped open when she started to take in more of him, breathing deeply through her nose to help relax her throat. 

His groans only encouraged her to keep going as she set to work. Even when he hit the back of her throat and she almost gagged. One of his hands weaved through her hair, resting gently on the back of her head and helping guide her bobs on his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted, erection twitching heavily on her tongue. “Don’t stop. Just like that. Ohhhhh…” a drawn out, delicious sound left his lips at her movements. 

It did not take long for her to start to feel the tension mounting in his thighs, his noises growing louder and more guttural as he neared his peak. Bracing her hands on his thighs, she gave him one last long, hard suck, and then pulled off completely. Tommy made a sharp whining sound, head raising slightly to peer down at her with lust-drunk eyes. Lucy smiled, climbing onto the bed to straddle him again, taking his cock back into her hand. 

Sitting up, he looped an arm around her shoulders, their faces so close that their noses brushed. Tommy’s mouth was open, eyes blown wide. Lucy felt something in her stir at the sight of him so needy. 

“Tell me you want me,” she requested, leaning into him, eyes fluttering when one of his hands flattened out at the center of her back, holding her close. His huge erection twitched in her palm.  

“I want you,” Tommy groaned, her hand tightening around his cock at the same time that he spoke. “I always want you.”  He traced the shape of her bottom lip with his thumb and she closed her eyes, turning her head to kiss his fingertips. Their foreheads came to rest against each other, and she started to guide him inside of her. 

Eyes closing at the stretch of taking him, she gripped at his shoulders, Tommy pressing kisses to her collarbone and thumbs drawing circles into her skin while she got adjusted. Lucy buried her face in his neck. He smelled like a smoky campfire in the middle of the woods at night, warm and welcoming with an edge of danger and melancholy.  

Locking her fingers in his hair, she gently tipped his head back, angling her face down to kiss him softly, and starting to move. Tommy groaned, gripping onto her thigh, fingers pressing into her skin tight enough to probably leave bruises. His eyes gazed into hers, fluttering when she traced over the sharp lines of his jaw.

There was nowhere in the world where she felt safer than in the circle of his arms. There was always such a gentleness to the way that he handled her. A tenderness. Like the mere thought of hurting her was too much for him to bear. 

She had never felt so loved. So cherished. So wanted. Whenever her insecurities started to get the better of her, all it took was this. The joining of their bodies. Their very beings molding together. His hands on her and his eyes looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the entire world. Hips moving in time with hers, slow and deep as they worked together to bring them both to the peak of pleasure. Making love in such a way that it was impossible for her to doubt the existence of his feelings for her. 

“Tommy,” she croaked out, hips still rolling into his, every bounce on his cock sending her nerve endings alight. His arms flexed, helping to support her weight. Their mouths were both open, moaning into the dark air of the bedroom, the bed frame starting to creak under their bodies. Lucy’s walls fluttered and tightened, the familiar warmth of an approaching orgasm building in her lower belly, clit twitching. 

He brushed some hair that had fallen forward out of her face, cupping her cheek gently. A guttural groan left his chest when she took a moment to pause between thrusts just to grind on his cock, her eyes rolling at the pressure that doing so put on her clit. At this angle, his thick tip was pressing into her most sensitive spot. Taking hold of one of his hands, she guided it down until his fingers were at her clit, his digits immediately starting to rub in tight little circles. 

Lucy’s breath stuttered in her lungs, back arching to press her breasts even more firmly against his chest. He growled lowly, thrusting his hips up more sharply into her, pressing down hard onto her clit. She cried out, the band inside her snapping, firelight exploding behind her eyes as she came. 

Tommy caught her in his arms as her muscles gave way, clutching her close with a hand still on her back and the other cupping the back of her head. His hips continued to buck up into her, drawing out her orgasm while he approached his own. Lucy burrowed against him, letting him guide her through her high, gasping softly at the sensation of his cock swelling larger within her. 

Grazing her teeth across his freckled shoulder, she felt more than heard Tommy moan, and then he was leaning back, staring into her face, nuzzling their noses together. He kissed her hard, pumping in one last time, gasping her name out into her mouth as she felt his cock pulse and start to release a heavy load inside of her. 

Cupping his cheeks, she watched his face when he came, grunting softly with pleasure, eyelashes fluttering while he gazed at her. She gave an experimental little bounce on his still emptying cock, earning herself a louder, deeper moan from him. Eyes slipping closed, his hands grabbed at her hips to keep her still.

“Too sensitive,” he mumbled, starting to pepper kisses along her shoulder. Lucy hummed, immediately ceasing all movements to instead just snuggle him. Her arms wound around his neck, stroking his hair, lips finding his cheek.

Slowly, he reclined them both back onto the pillows. Lucy gingerly slipped off of his softening cock, and Tommy drew her in close to his chest, his fingertips starting to trace along her back. The skin was a mess of scars. Yet another gift Luca had given her during the three days she’d spent bound in the basement of a church with him. The cat o’ nine tails he’d whipped her with had done its job well, the pale skin twisted and marred.

She hated looking at it. Hated even thinking about it most of the time. All it did was remind her of those tortuous days. Not to mention made her feel so repulsed at her own reflection she could barely look in the mirror without gagging. 

And yet Tommy’s gentle, adoring touch on them helped soothe some of the disgust she felt towards herself. Despite her best attempts to hide them from him, he’d seen all the scars that covered her body more times that she could count. Never once had he indicated even the slightest revulsion towards them. Under his gaze and hands, she almost was able to feel beautiful.  

“You okay?” His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she wondered if he had been able to sense her getting lost in her own head again.

“Yeah,” she said, getting more comfortable on his chest. Tilting her head up, she looked into his blue eyes, seeming to practically glow in the otherwise darkness of the room. With the passion of desire clearing from her head, thoughts about the future—and their current roster of problems—were making themselves known again. “Tommy, what are we going to do?”

“About Lizzie?”

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I can’t give her what she wants, and I don’t know what else to do to make her happy.”

“Me neither.” Their voices were quiet despite it only being them in the room.

“Maybe if I sit her down and try to explain a couple things to her…” Tommy suggested. 

“What kinds of things?”

“Just…how things are in my head.”

Lucy pushed herself up slightly on her arms to get a better look at him. “You’ve tried to let her in on multiple occasions. She always either ignores you or changes the subject.” It drove Lucy absolutely batty, to have to listen to Lizzie whine and cry about how Tommy ‘never let her in’ when she herself had seen him on multiple occasions try to open up to Lizzie, only for Lizzie to show no interest in what he was actually attempting to communicate to her. It was no wonder that over time he’d more or less given up any attempts at emotionally connecting with her. 

“Yeah,” his chest went up and down with his sigh. Lucy stroked his skin in sympathy, wishing terribly that there was something–anything–that she could do to make it better. 

“I’m sorry.”

His head angled down to look at her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. The arm around her tightened, bringing her closer so he could kiss her forehead. “You make it all easier, you know.” His lips moved against her skin as he spoke before drawing back to look into her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She felt herself flush, looking bashfully down, busying herself with trailing a hand through his chest hair. “You’d survive.”

“No,” his voice was deadly serious, Her gaze snapped back up to his, eyes wide. “I don’t think that I would.”

Her brows drew in, lips parting, head cocking a little to the side. She reached for him, both hands resting on his cheeks. He leaned into her touch, eyes sliding closed, a hand covering one of hers. “Tommy…”

“It’s alright,” he kissed the center of her palm. 

“I couldn’t survive without you either.”

He gave her a look of deep understanding, kissing her softly on the lips. “C’mere.”

She let him pull her back into snuggling against him, closing her eyes with a soft sigh at how warm and comfy he was. 

There was a sudden change in the weight on the bed, as a tiny little figure hopped up onto the mattress, searching for a warm place to join in the cuddle pile. 

At the sudden, unexpected arrival of the cat, Tommy yelped in a way so unbecoming of one of England’s most feared gangsters that it sent Lucy into a fit of giggles. Trouble meowed, tail flicking back and forth, little paws picking carefully over the comforter towards them. Lucy kept on laughing, pressing a hand to her mouth to try to stifle it as Tommy scrambled to pull the blankets up around them.

“It’s just Trouble, love,” she snickered. 

“Where the hell did she come from!?” 

“She must’ve been hiding under the bed or something.”

He stared at her with wide, horrified eyes. “Do you think she was watching us?”

“Probably.” She raised an eyebrow when Tommy seemed to shrink a little into the pillows. Trouble padded over to her, purring when Lucy started to give her scratches under the chin. “You’re fine with other women watching us fuck, but the cat is where you draw the line?”

He just harrumphed in exasperation, raising a hand to rub down his face.  Lucy rolled her eyes fondly, giving him a kiss in the center of his chest before turning her attention back to their cat.

“Hey, sweetie,” she cooed when Trouble rubbed her head against her palm. She then settled herself against Tommy’s side opposite where Lucy was laying, curling into a tight ball against him with a purr. 

Like mother, like daughter, Lucy thought with a small smile as Tommy dropped his hand to pet Trouble’s back. She let her head rest back onto his chest, stroking over his ribs. 

“She better mind the claws this time,” Tommy muttered, but made no move to push Trouble away. Lucy bit her lip to try to stifle a grin at the memory of Trouble climbing over his bare chest one night to get close to her. She’d woken up to him yelping in complaint of the scratches the cat had left in his chest, Trouble meowing back at him defiantly when he tried to scold her. 

Tommy’s fingertip found the underside of her chin, tilting her head up. 

“Oh, you find this amusing, do you?”

“Mhm.” She pressed her still smiling lips together.

He snorted, shaking his head, unable to fully keep the amusement out of his eyes. “The fucking cheek I get in this house, I swear…”

Laughing, she stretched up to kiss him once more. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Polly was already at the Garrison when Lucy arrived with Tommy and Arthur. Pacing from side to side like an irritable cat, black cigarette clutched between her fingers, she eyed them warily upon their arrival and subsequent movements to go stand by the bar. 

“You armed?” she asked them. At all three of their answers to the affirmative, Polly pursed her lips. Lucy raised an eyebrow at her request that they put their weapons behind the bar in case tempers flared. While Arthur irritably dumped the bullets in his gun out and then tossed the empty weapon onto the table, Lucy looked to Tommy for instruction, ready to follow his lead on whether or not he acquiesced to Polly’s request. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached into his suit jacket and removed his gun from its holster, turning and setting it on the bar behind him. Lucy mimicked his movements, hoisting herself up on her arms to perch on the edge of the bar next to Tommy, reaching behind her to lay her gun down next to his.

She busied herself fishing a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it while Tommy talked to Polly about the dream he’d had of a black cat. Which, according to Polly’s teachings, meant that there was a traitor close by. Polly’s face remained immovable the entire time. She had told them Michael was telling the truth when he said he didn’t betray them, but they would never be able to fully trust Polly when it came to Michael. She might lie to protect him. Or her motherly love for him could cloud her judgment. 

Lucy was living proof that Polly’s perceptions of people weren’t always entirely correct, after all. 

There was the sound of a car approaching outside, and Polly went to the front door to greet her son and his new wife. Tommy’s hand landed on Lucy’s thigh, smoothing up and down, warm even through the thick fabric of her trousers. She scooted a tad closer to him, until her thigh just barely brushed against his shoulder when he was leaning against the bar, sensing that he was in need of the closeness. 

Polly came back in with Michael and Gina right behind her. Lucy took them both in with a careful, analytical eye. 

They looked well. Michael had his hair slicked back, a fine beige coat draped over his suit. His face was the same as it had been the day he left for America, but his eyes were different. Colder. Harder. More guarded. 

His wife, Gina Gray–formally Nelson, Lucy’s hasty research on her had revealed– stood beside him in her expensive furs. Blonde curls were styled carefully around her face, lips pressed in an eternally smug expression. 

Lucy hated her from almost the first moment she laid eyes on her. 

Snobbishness seemed to ooze from her, looking at them as if they were scum on the bottom of her shoe. A smirk danced across her lips, eyeing Tommy up before turning her gaze to Lucy. Her eyebrow raised as she zeroed in on the closeness of Lucy’s thigh to Tommy’s shoulder. Lucy stared back at her challengingly, half daring her to say something. Gina’s eyes met hers unflinchingly. Lucy cocked her head. 

Little girl wants to come play with the gangsters, now does she?

Gina finally broke the silent stare-down, looking back at Tommy. Lucy kept her gaze focused on her for a moment longer, then returned to assessing Michael, who had started talking almost as soon as he and Gina had entered. Lucy wondered if he thought that if he could get a head start on the conversation, then he could control where it went. 

When Tommy ordered Michael to sit down, he ignored him. Lucy’s eyes narrowed to slits at the blatant disrespect.

The boy had forgotten his place.

He should have come in there crawling on his hands and knees, begging them for forgiveness. Already he was extremely lucky to not have been greeted with a razor to his throat upon his arrival in England. 

Instead, he stood there, and told them all about how he had come so close to betraying them, but oh, no, they should be grateful. They should be proud. Because his precious, smug little wife had stopped him. Even though he said it himself that he had already betrayed them in his heart. 

Did he really not understand how significant that already was?

Did the idiot really not see how with every word, with every second that he continued to ignore Tommy’s order that he sit his ass down, he was only digging his own grave deeper?

“I told you to sit down, Michael,” Tommy finally interrupted. It wasn’t quite a snarl, but it was close. He’d clearly taken note of the blatant dismissal of his authority just as she had. 

Michael went quiet. Then reached over to pull out the nearest chair to him at the table Polly had sat down at. But before he sank into it, he looked up at Tommy, and for a brief, sliver of a second, Lucy saw a look flash in his eyes of such ice-cold contempt, it could have given her frostbite.

It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, but she knew that she hadn’t imagined it. She had felt the chill, the instinctive break-out of gooseflesh across her arms. The prickling at the back of her neck. 

Danger was close by. Right in front of them. 

There was an enemy in the room with them. Her gaze flickered briefly to Gina once more. Maybe even more than one. 

The chair creaked, barely audibly, as Michael finally lowered himself into it. Gina leaned against the pillar beside him. 

Tommy spoke slowly, each word carefully plucked, commanding Michael to tell him what happened on the ship in Belfast. 

Lucy’s eyes narrowed as they listened to Michael’s story of how the Billy Boys had boarded the ship he and Gina had been on. They’d been offering a deal, Michael said, to help destroy Tommy. But then the IRA had interrupted them. He failed to elaborate on what happened with the Billy Boys and the IRA before Captain Swing took him captive. 

When Polly tried to prompt Michael into actually saying that he did not deal with the Billy Boys, he gave her no straight answer. Instead he deflected with a weak smile, reaching for Gina’s hand, and announcing that he and Gina had gotten married because Gina was pregnant. 

The whole room filled with stony silence, everyone looking expectantly to Tommy for his verdict.

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay, Michael. I believe you. Welcome home. Congratulations. Just remember…your unborn child has witnessed what you said…”

“Thomas!” Polly exclaimed, horrified.

“And it will be born accordingly.” 

Michael just about launched himself out of his chair was a furious roar, impeded only by Arthur calmly stepping between him and his brother. Polly jumped from her seat. Tommy just blinked calmly, not moving. 

Lucy burst into hysterical, mad-sounding cackles. 

Even as Michael spat vitriol at Tommy from over Arthur’s shoulder, Tommy hardly even batted an eye, merely raising an eyebrow at his cousin. Lucy's unhinged cackles began to subside into quiet giggles. From behind Michael, she saw both Polly and Gina shoot her disturbed, puzzled looked. She just grinned, swaying back and forth delightedly, raising her cigarette to her lips. 

She failed to see what all the fuss was about. If Michael was telling the truth, then he ought to have nothing to worry about.  

The instructions that Tommy gave Michael regarding what he was to do next seemed only fair. He’d lost their company a lot of money. And yet Michael’s look of fury didn’t fade. Entitled cunt. Did he really think that they wouldn’t make him pay them back what he owed them? 

It was Gina who ended up drawing her husband away. Crooning in her harsh American accent, the smug expression that had wavered only briefly at Tommy’s threat back firmly in place. Polly stormed out the door after them, expression hardened when she looked at Tommy before leaving. Arthur locked the door behind them. 

Tommy grabbed his gun from behind the bar, passing Lucy hers so she could tuck it away into her suit jacket. The three of them gathered around the table in the center of the empty pub to debrief, Arthur meticulously sliding the bullets back into the chamber of his revolver while Tommy poured some whiskey. 

“What do we think?” Arthur asked. 

“If anything I’m more suspicious of him than I was when he came in,” Lucy took the glass Tommy offered her. “I don’t like how he deflected with Gina’s pregnancy there at the end.”

“Yeah. He never did answer Polly’s question, did he?” Arthur snorted, shaking his head, gaze going to his younger brother. “Tom?”

“So we’re all in agreement,” Tommy said slowly. “We don’t trust him.”

“So what do we do next?” Arthur asked, fingers pausing where he’d been about to slide the final bullet home in its chamber. 

Tommy cleared his throat, pursing his lips together. His eyes met Lucy’s, and she sighed. 

“Just suspicious words aren’t going to be enough to convince Polly,” she concluded.

“We keep him on a tight leash, for now.”

They all unanimously agreed. Michael would hate every second of it, but they needed to be sure. 

Lucy thought back to the landmines she and Tommy had dug out of the garden, little specks of dirt still wedged in deep under her nails, and shivered.

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[sillymillipede]

Shout out to the strange and scary short stories I had to read

Years later I am still enjoying strange and scary short stories

I straight up do not trust you if you did not enjoy a single book you had to read for English class. I know they assigned some real stuffy stinkers and the curriculum varies across districts but not one? Not The Outsiders? Not The Picture of Dorian Gray? Not Fahrenheit 451? Not even Frankenstein? Damn. That’s crazy.

[stxrvel]

remorse (5)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not? content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, flashback, a lot of remorse, fights, stubborn people, lack of communication, angst. a/n. its finally here. i haven't re read this chapter bc im almost falling asleep and i have to work tomorrow, but i'll give this one another look in the weekend. a friend of mine helped me with the traduction bc i'm really really burnt out rn. also, chapters names changed!! i hope you guys like this one! see you on the next one🫶🏻

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“Oppa…”

Yoongi raised his head, his body leaning toward the piano acknowledging your presence in the room, and you could tell how he was physically struggling to move away from the instrument. Under his watchful gaze, you walked in his direction shuffling your feet, with a pitiful expression and every intention of openly complaining to one of the elders in your group of friends. But you relaxed your expression when you were a few steps away, recognizing his notebook on the piano lid and the trail of ink between his fingers at a safe distance from the keys.

His laughter confused you, and when you looked up, his lips were curved into a pretty smile. It was annoying. He was only two years older than you.

“What happened now?”

You remembered that you had come with a purpose, but your mind, as evasive and suggestible as ever, found more interest in what your eyes had caught.

“The usual,” you barely commented, moving to sit on your legs in front of Yoongi. “Were you writing?”

Yoongi glanced over to find his notebook, his shoulders shaking in a sigh because he knew he wouldn't be able to escape this conversation now that you had discovered him.

“Something like that…”

“Can I see it?”

“It's nothing decent. I don't think it's prudent.”

You pressed your lips together at his response, letting your shoulders droop, disappointed. But it was what you had expected; after all, Yoongi was quite secretive about his notebook, and it was rare for him to let you get this close and know so much about him. Even though you had probably known each other since you learned to swim and multiply, and surely knew more skeletons in his closet than he would like to admit, Yoongi still had a reluctance to show you or anyonw his writings. You had to catch him at a very relaxed moment.

So you set aside your emotions, not allowing Yoongi to respond as you pouted, and crossed your arms while turning your head away.

“Taehyung and Jungkook got so competitive on the court that they kicked us all out,” you frowned, remembering how the two had rushed past you and stolen the ball in the blink of an eye, moving so quickly and with cheeky laughter that you barely understood what was happening until you saw them tussling with the ball in front of the scoring area.

They were already in extracurricular hours, and although everyone had subjects to study and delve into, they decided to take a moment to take advantage of the fact that the school court would be empty and play for a while. Jin and Namjoon had left the game after two quarters because they simply couldn't keep up, and since one was in your group with Jimin and the other with the two kings of competition that day, they decided to kick them out and leave them as referees along with Hobi, who was the initial one.

Surprisingly, Yoongi also didn’t attend the game or his extracurricular class, choosing to get lost in the music room, taking advantage of the fact that it was empty that day because classes ended early.

“I don’t understand why they have to ruin everyone’s fun.”

Your little thirteen-year-old self, ignorant of many aspects of life, could only cross her arms and complain. Yoongi smiled, his two extra years of age giving him an understanding that perhaps you didn’t have access to, because it was inconceivable to you that such a sacrilege could be considered funny. Basketball hours were sacred!

“They're just messing around.”

“Oppa, you should've seen how they were pushing each other,” you shook your head, refusing to believe that Yoongi really wanted to defend them. “If you had been there, you could've stopped them.”

“And Jin?”

“He was laughing with them.”

“Ah,” Yoongi turned his head. “So the second best option was me?”

You shrugged. “Well, I thought I could convince you to go to the court, but…”

“But…?” Yoongi rested a hand on the bench, leaning in to see you on the floor.

“Maybe it’s more fun to listen to you play the piano.”

You smiled brightly, intertwining your fingers while Yoongi wore a half-smile. Without responding, he straightened up again, adopting the posture he had when you saw him through the glass of the door, before you interrupted his concentration. His fingers danced in the air for a few seconds, touching the notes in his head, recalling sound after sound, until the pressure on them gave way to a melody unknown to you.

It had to be a new piece, a new composition in his notebook. Yoongi played, calm and serene, focused and absorbed, letting the sound flow as if it came directly from nature.

Seeing Yoongi like this was… a strange event. Later, as time passed, you would think it was unbearable to have to see him everywhere, to hear his name around every corner, but at that moment you were lost in him, absorbing the sounds of his mind that his fingers materialized on the piano, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tide of his emotions, the way he conveyed so many words with his touches. The fast and slow notes, the change of tempo, all so meticulously created and organized to send a message, to describe an emotion, to paint a scene.

Yoongi was scared. Perhaps nervous, even. When he finished his piece, you could only look at him in awe, his shoulders moving a little faster due to the intensity with which he finished, keeping his head down, as if processing what he had just done. His fear was palpable, his hopelessness and unease.

“Oppa?”

“I don’t know…” he paused, dropping the lid over the keys and taking a calmer posture. “I don’t know if I’ll do the right thing when I graduate.”

“Why?” your brow furrowed, and you leaned forward in concern. “You’ve always talked about it. And you have a lot of talent, oppa, I know you’ll make it.”

Yoongi gave a nearly pained smile, as if he understood something you had no idea about.

“Jin is going to medical school.”

“I know. But it’s what he’s passionate about,” you moved closer to your friend, trying to give him some of the support he always gave you. “Isn’t music what you’re passionate about?”

The black-haired boy frowned. The answer was clear in his eyes, in the way he played the piano until he was breathless, but the gestures of his doubts were there too: when his fingers trembled with anxiety, his eyes gaining more shine as the seconds passed.

“Oppa,” you called, trying to break the silence, trying to prevent his thoughts from eating him alive. “If it’s what you love, you’ll succeed. I’m sure of that.”

You saw how the haze in his eyes disappeared, his features relaxing at least a little.

“I probably only have your support. I’ll have to rely on that.”

His small smile constricted your heart. In that moment, you didn’t know what you could do to show him that it was enough, but you were also unaware of the reality that his words held. It was probably due to your age, the age difference with Yoongi, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he would never be completely satisfied with that. You wondered if it was about you, just for a second, recalling the way he smiled when some of the other boys gave him words of encouragement.

Maybe he was just more vulnerable with you than with the others, but a thirteen-year-old's reasoning didn't go that far.

With your foolish conclusion, you came home that day with a heavy heart.

-

Speaking of loose ends and unresolved issues, there were some specific people who deserved to take home the award and the crown for the most intrigue of the century. Because when you entered Choi Dohyun's office, with Seojun and Yuna on either side, even knowing that there were things still pending answers and others you could barely understand, the last thing you expected was for those you weren’t even aware of to suddenly materialize, like a kick to the stomach.

But keeping your head high and your composure was something you had lacked the last time, and thus, against all odds, your face showed no emotion when you caught a glimpse of Min Yoongi storming out of the office looking angry, not even when his eyes moved towards your figure and his wires crossed for a millisecond, betraying his movements. The sound of his shoes against the floor didn’t even distract you, keeping your gaze fixed on the man who appeared behind the door, with a huge smile on his face and eyes that screamed that signing this contract might take more from you than it would give.

Min Yoongi flanked you, a nearly imperceptible gasp of surprise escaping him as you passed by his side, not even giving him a glance of acknowledgment over your shoulder, as if he were less than a mere insignificant dust particle, and he collected himself as best he could to keep walking, ignoring the astonished looks your companions shot him.

You flashed the biggest smile, a feeling of anger settling deep in your stomach, and you shook hands with Choi Dohyun, who was cheerfully introducing himself with a voice an octave higher than usual.

You didn’t miss the way he shot a glance down the hallway, where Min Yoongi should have been disappearing, and the bitter sensation in your throat intensified.

“Well, don’t take it the wrong way, I’m very happy because we finally have this,” Yuna beamed, raising the envelope with the contract as if it were her most cherished possession, just as they exited the large publishing house and the cool afternoon air greeted them, “but did we just see the damn Min Yoongi leave that office?”

You simply sighed, feeling the tension radiate from your brother’s body, who hadn’t separated from you since the moment you were ushered away by Choi Dohyun's secretary.

“That was… wow. I don’t even have words.”

Seojun rolled his eyes, and you had to suppress the urge to pinch his side when Yuna turned to look at you with the envelope in her hands while you all waited to see your father’s blue car navigate the avenue.

“Do you think… this means we’ll have more opportunities to meet the seven gods of Olympus than most people?”

Her smile made you feel nauseous, but out of her ignorance, you could do nothing but try to mimic it. Seojun, on the other hand, was making nothing but irritated faces.

“Maybe, if you work harder.”

Yuna let out another squeal of excitement, and you took a deep breath when she turned around to look at the cars again. Seojun wrapped his arm around yours, glaring at anyone who came too close, even by accident.

Your friend kept murmuring in disbelief, and all you could think was that she was probably holding in her hands the worst decision you had ever made.

-

Whatever the reason for your encounter with Min Yoongi, you had deduced that your bad luck came down to being out of the house. Putting a foot outside the holy altar of your home was proving lethal for your emotional stability, so you spent the rest of the day locked up, managing your social media and overseeing deliveries.

Dohyun had agreed that the publishing house would handle the entire printing, packaging, and shipping process of the books, as purchases were only growing with each passing day. His real offer was to leave you with nothing to do but continue planning your stories, because at that moment, you were a goldmine for him.

“Unbelievable! Jung Hoseok revealed the truth behind the distancing of the Korean entertainment dynasty.”

The voice coming from Yuna’s phone caught your attention. You lifted your head from the blank document on your computer screen, glancing sideways at your friend, who was comfortably sprawled on your bed with a furrowed brow and a conflicted expression, as intrigued as she was worried about what she had just heard.

“These past few days have been tough for the kings of entertainment, as the last public sighting of them was over a week ago when Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jeon Jungkook left the businessman’s building and enthusiastically greeted all their fans. As good followers, we know it’s too strange not to see them often, and the last time this happened was when Jung Hoseok had the accident that prevented him from continuing to play professional tennis.”

Yuna looked intensely focused, biting her nail and awaiting the climax of the video. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny you were a bit curious about what news they would share, knowing that the boys weren’t ones to openly discuss their private matters.

“With their reputations at stake and rumors flying back and forth [how exaggerated], Jung Hoseok had to come out to clarify the situation. His official statement, which was informally published on the famous app Whotalks, said: ‘We’re all fine. Please be patient with us.’ Whether his statement implies misunderstandings among friends that are in the process of being resolved or if we should wait for an official statement from their leader, we’re not sure. But it’s concerning the—”

“Why would they make such a big deal about this if they aren’t even sure what that post implies?”

Yuna paused the video, giving you a confused look, surely thinking you were immersed in whatever you were doing on the computer (nothing), too busy to pay attention to these “insignificances,” as you used to say.

“Y/N, you really have no idea of the magnitude of power these men hold over the entertainment industry. With a snap of their fingers, they could shake everything.”

“And why did they get so much power?”

“They earned it. Through their hard work.”

You couldn’t help the huff that escaped you. You didn’t find what Yuna had said funny because it was true; they had worked incredibly hard to achieve what they had at that moment. At least you knew that their beginnings had been humble. But it annoyed you, inevitably, because you couldn’t control the resentment shaking in your chest. Healing my ass, you hadn’t forgotten anything from the last few years, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. So much effort to force them out of your life, only for them to find a way to disrupt it again in a week as if they had some right.

What a bunch of audacious—

“Oh. A message came in.”

Your friend sat up on the bed, and you sent her a confused look.

“Messages come in every second, Yuna.”

“It’s from a verified account.”

Without lifting her gaze in your direction, you froze in your chair.

“Oh—”

Oh no.

“No fucking way—” Yuna stood up in the bed, exclaiming loudly: “Kim Taehyung is in your DM's!”

“Tell him to go to hell.”

“¿¿Huh??”

The words slipped out before you could think twice. From the tense way the words left your mouth, you could tell Yuna was torn between asking more or simply contradicting you. Her eyes moved from the screen to your face, her fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the device.

“You know, every time you make it harder to understand what’s going on with these people.”

Finally, she locked her phone and dropped it on one of your pillows. You had never been a fan; your friend understood that. She had never questioned you about it… except for that random afternoon in this same room when she asked too many questions, but after the encounter with Yoongi that afternoon, you wondered what moment or what would need to happen for her to stop believing that it was just a matter of taste differences and for you to have to tell her the truth.

Before everything that happened a week ago, you had never considered it necessary to talk about it because so much time had passed, and you believed you were at a point where things related to them really didn’t affect you anymore, nor would you ever have to interact with them again to warrant giving your friend a statement. But of course, things were different now, and emotions would continue to clash with one another, and you hated to think that their attitudes meant they were trying to return to your life, or at least get involved to some extent, which would imply, strongly, that you would have to tell Yuna what had happened.

“Have you ever thought that you might have run into him if you had gone to the convention?”

“Yeah...” you sighed in defeat. It was impossible not to consider that alternative, how things might have turned out. If you would still have this overwhelming resentment in your chest or if they would have carved their way back into your heart once more.

The foolish you at eighteen would be thrilled right now.

“And even with that doubt... don’t you have even a little curiosity about what he says?”

You preferred not to, to be honest. You would rather just rip out every memory from your head with tweezers to be able to return to a semi-normal life, where your biggest worry should be saving enough for a trip and not when those damn lunatics were going to leave you alone.

But you found yourself stretching out your arm to take the phone when Yuna handed it to you, a grimace of insecurity settling on your face.

“I’m not going to ask,” Yuna spoke, and you sent her a glance just as she turned on the bed and took her own phone to continue watching her celebrity gossip. “I’m not going to pressure you.”

You didn’t respond. You lowered your gaze to the device in your hands, feeling a mix of relief and bitterness. Well, at least she had given you the opportunity to worry about that later.

The screen lit up, and there it was. A new message from Kim Taehyung.

thv Hi. It’s Jimin.

Huh?

You ?

The read notification arrived almost instantly after you replied. With your brow furrowed, you watched the bubble appear from his side of the chat.

thv I’m sorry for writing from Tae’s account, but you blocked me

Ah. Ah. Right.

After receiving the notification that Jungkook had followed you a few days ago, and especially because he had shown up at your work out of nowhere short after that, you had blocked everyone else with an Instagram account, just to be safe.

A small detail.

You Oh, yeah

That Jimin was trying to contact you, considering the context of the whole situation, wasn’t too outrageous. When you studied together, apart from being the first to start teasing others and fostering friendly banter, he was also the first to try to fix things because he couldn’t stand hostile and tense environments. It’s not that you thought he had a chance to fix anything now, but maybe you were a little interested in what he had to say. After several days, it was inevitable not to feel curious, right?

After the bubble appeared and disappeared several times, the message finally arrived.

thv Do you think we could talk in person?

You No.

thv I promise it'll just be me

You No.

thv It can be anywhere you choose

You I said no If you have something to say, write it If you don’t have anything interesting to say, then I’m going to block this account too

thv No Wait Okay.

The sound of Yuna’s phone had faded into the background of your mind. You kept your eyes on the typing bubble, fearing that maybe Jimin would change his mind and decide not to respond to the questions swirling in your head. Now that he was being so persistent, you were more eager to know. I mean, it was the least you deserved, right? Some kind of answer, some kind of reason, a why. Something to explain everything, because the root of that growing resentment in your chest was due to their lack of communication, to their ease in discarding you like a worthless piece of paper, not even caring if the air swept you away or the rain destroyed you.

They owed you something, and you had the right to an answer. You could have moved on, yes; you thought you had, yes; living with resentment in your heart affected a person’s life, yes... but God would be the only living being on earth and in the universe who wouldn’t feel even a pinch of pain for everything that had happened. For the inexplicable disappearance, for the disconnection, for the destruction of an incredible blind trust that was woven with that friendship you believed to be unconditional but ended up being one-sided. Who could really blame you for being cautious of them?

If when you cultivated that friendship, that friendly love, the fruits they returned to you were rotten, how could you simply trust? Who could?

thv I’m sorry for what happened. I know this was very abrupt, and it must have been strange for you

Strange, for lack of a better word. Strange was a euphemism.

thv I apologize on behalf of everyone.

You I’m not interested

thv If we could meet in person, I could explain better

You I’m not interested. That wouldn’t change anything.

thv I know this goes beyond what happened this week, but I don’t want you to have a bad impression

You You’re a damn audacious one, Jimin Do you think it’s only the latest thing that would make me see you all negatively? Is that the only thing you’ve done? Or well, what you haven’t done either

thv Okay, I expressed myself very poorly I know we were already on bad terms before; I meant that I didn’t want it to get worse

You Well, honestly, I didn’t think it could get worse until now.

thv I’m making it worse

You Wow, apparently you do have awareness and common sense For many years, I thought you lacked that

You blocked the phone, letting it drop onto the table, your heart racing because of the audacity that man had to refer to what had happened as if it were just a silly childhood memory, as if it had simply been a stupid basketball game where you weren’t allowed to play. That only reinforced your thinking, the only plausible reason you had given life to over the past few years, the only explanation you had for their disappearance: that they never cared about you as much as you did about them; that you were never truly fundamental in their lives. Because, come on, they had built a friendship and shared memories before you appeared on the scene; they knew each other beforehand with a depth you could never reach, long before your name reached their ears. They had a connection; you were never ignorant of that; there was something in them that kept them united, something that made them understand each other almost on a spiritual level, and naively, you believed they had made you a part of it; that you had managed to be part of that connection.

But no, it was never like that. It was always one-sided. Whether you were a game, a case of charity, or someone they simply couldn’t say no to, you had no idea, but none of those options felt too foreign to reality. Especially considering the way Jimin referred to the past as if it had been a child's game and nothing more. There was never more for them. You should've known that.

thv I’m really sorry, y/n I truly wish I could talk to you in person I promise I can explain many things

His messages shone on the lock screen, and more than feeling curious again, you felt rage. So now they could talk. Now they could fucking communicate. Where was that willingness ten years ago? Five years ago, even? You never thought you would see any of them so willing to offer you what you had longed for, maybe at least to finally bring closure to the whole situation.

But you didn’t want to give them the right to become the victims in this situation. They had time to do something, yes, now you knew, and they simply chose not to; it was high time you really let it go. Let them go. What would an explanation fix now? When, if there was still something of the friendship you built, it should've crumbled to dust. Their willingness now meant nothing. If you ever saw any of them again, you would rather rip their hair out in a fit of rage.

You Fuck you Fuck all of you

And you blocked Taehyung’s account.

Anticipating any possibility, you also blocked Jungkook and hoped that would be the end of it.

Finally, you would try to seek true healing, because it was about damn time.

-

You y/n, I'm so sorry y/n? y/n????????????????

Oh no. Taehyung's going to kill me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Speaking of the king of Rome.

Park Jimin flinched, tightening his fingers around the phone he was holding, which clearly wasn’t his, literally caught red-handed. He swallowed hard when his friend’s footsteps drew closer, circling around to face what he feared most.

“Jimin...” Taehyung began, his confused expression turning into caution, quickly shifting his gaze between the phone and the wide-eyed blonde. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Jimin shrank even more, pursing his lips, realizing there was no escape. In his defense, he had fervently believed for a moment that he would succeed. Taehyung hadn’t agreed from the start, especially given how angry Yoongi had been that afternoon when he arrived at the penthouse and how he had locked himself in Namjoon’s office, and the tone of their voices hadn’t diminished for even a second, especially not when Jin arrived an hour later.

Taehyung and Jimin weren’t sure what had happened, but considering the recent events, they could make an educated guess.

It all led back to you.

They were surely paying for what they did.

“I told you it was a terrible idea!” Taehyung strode closer and snatched the phone from Jimin’s tightly clenched hands. Jimin let out a defeated sigh, sinking back against the couch as Taehyung began to scroll through the messages, growls escaping his throat.

“I didn’t think she’d be so...”

Jimin hesitated, and when he turned to look at his friend, his furrowed brow silently asked, “are you serious?”

Another defeated sigh escaped him.

“You’re not fixing anything. If Namjoon finds out about this...”

Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence, but Jimin understood. But could any of them really blame him? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone! No one was a saint in that place when it came to you. At least he had the decency to try to explain things when the others just charged in as if nothing had ever happened (for now, Taehyung and Jungkook, simply because he still had no idea what had happened with Yoongi).

The problem, of course, was that Jimin was better at comforting someone in person than through messages.

“There's no going back from this.” Taehyung murmured, still focused on the screen. The shine in his eyes gave Jimin an idea of what was going through his mind, and he remained silent until Taehyung looked up. “We really messed up.”

“Did you need this reality check?”

“Did you?” Taehyung frowned. “I don’t know why you expected a different response.”

“Well, what did you expect to happen doing what you did?”

Jimin watched his friend click his tongue.

“What did you expect me to do? I didn’t think it would snowball like this.” Taehyung shook his head, and Jimin barely recalled with a shudder how the atmosphere had felt in the penthouse after Tae had posted that story about your books on his Instagram. “I just wanted...”

Once again, Taehyung chose to remain silent, but in his absence of words, Jimin understood.

To make up for it.

“Obviously, I’m not going to say anything,” Taehyung added, shooting a sideways glance at his blonde friend. “After whatever happened with Yoongi, I don’t even want to imagine how Namjoon would react if he finds out about this.”

“If he finds out what?”

Jimin and Taehyung froze on the couch, watching through the reflection of the TV as the person appeared behind them before they could recognize the friendly yet concerned tone.

Jung Hoseok circled the couch, clearly troubled by what he had just heard. It was evident he had just returned from practice because his hair was wet and he looked somewhat flustered, his cheeks flushed despite the chilly weather that night. He dropped his training bag on one of the armchairs, and Jimin averted his gaze when he caught his friend's eyes. It wasn't that they usually kept secrets and tiptoed around the others, but ever since Jungkook had pulled that stunt of searching for you at work when Namjoon had expressly forbidden it, the waters between them had been a bit tense, and any topic involving you could explode any healthy and cooperative conversation in seconds.

Hoseok crossed his arms, allowing his cheerful expression at finally arriving at the penthouse to fade completely, hardening his features as he shot a stern look at the two young men.

Taehyung also averted his gaze. The moment he heard Hoseok's voice, he tucked the phone between his legs and probably looked tenser than he should have. He, just like Jimin, didn’t dare meet Hoseok’s eyes at that moment. Because Hobi had stopped at the door, and with whom they had in front of them, they couldn't hesitate. They both knew it, they both understood.

And Hoseok knew very well. He was aware of all the tricks the two shared and could sense from their silence that they were up to something. Besides, of course, their conversation had been overly revealing. They had to be thankful it was him who arrived in the midst of their confessions, and of course, he would demand to have a conversation of such gravity with such freedom.

But no, in that house, secrets were not kept.

“If he finds out what?” Hoseok emphasized the words, urging the stubborn young men to keep their mouths shut.

Hoseok then exhaled through his nose in a sigh.

“Is it about y/n?”

Jimin and Taehyung lifted their gazes, a bit tempted but diverting their eyes as if pretending to be uninterested. While the atmosphere had been very tense lately, Hoseok and Jin had kept themselves somewhat distanced from all that unease, mainly because their demanding jobs kept them away from the penthouse most of the time. Namjoon, for his part, couldn’t escape the topic as easily since he had an office at home, initially to monitor them in a healthy way, and now because he felt the need to keep an eye on each of them to prevent them from doing something stupid.

Yoongi... well, maybe he had tried to stay on the sidelines, but he had clearly failed miserably if he had ended up arguing with Namjoon and Jin.

“What did you guys do now?”

Hoseok's severe tone was chilling. Jimin remembered the times he had decided to participate in his dance classes, the few that he taught personally each month, and how he had felt Hoseok’s sharp gaze and his blunt comments about his steps in front of all the students. It was as if he became another person. Although it was terrifying, the two young men admitted it was refreshing to see him like that in the academy, because he had lost a bit of his spark since his accident. Before, he only looked that serene and committed when he was at his tennis practice.

At that moment, however, Jimin and Taehyung appeared more reluctant despite his severe attitude, because they didn’t know if he would spill the beans to Namjoon afterward.

“And what happened with Yoongi?”

The slight softness in his tone made Jimin lift his head. Still with his arms crossed over his chest, Hoseok sat across from them at the table in the center of the room.

Jimin sighed, and Taehyung shot him an alarmed look. Are we really going to give in this quickly?!

“We don’t know what happened with Yoongi. He just arrived in the afternoon, locked himself in the office with Namjoon, and they wouldn’t stop arguing. Then Jin came in, but that didn’t make them stop.”

Hoseok looked up, scanning the hallway. Now the house was silent, perhaps more grave and tense than usual. Hoseok didn’t know how it had come to this and hadn’t sensed that atmosphere immediately.

“Is Jin here?”

“I think he’s in his room,” Taehyung replied, shifting on the couch. “He stormed out of the office a while ago.”

Hoseok grimaced at the mere thought, causing a shiver.

“Then it is about y/n.”

Jimin and Taehyung once again averted their gazes.

“Oh, come on.” Hoseok uncrossed his arms, more frustrated than angry at that moment for not being able to fully understand what was causing so many arguments among his friends. “I’m not going to go talk to Namjoon later, regardless of what you tell me. I just want to understand.”

The two young men exchanged a glance, Hoseok believed, communicating mentally. It was always strange but interesting how those two could understand each other at such a level that often they didn’t even need a look. They could support each other's ideas without overthinking it, just like they were doing at that moment in front of him, and Hoseok couldn’t help but think that this topic could cause them more harm than they realized. That these two were even hesitant to share something with him now, fearing to do so, considering whom they could trust or not, spoke volumes about how this issue was being handled and it was not healthy at all.

Hoseok didn’t know that Namjoon had been arguing. The only time he had talked about that topic with the others was when Jungkook’s incident happened, because by crossing such a clear and blatant line, Namjoon saw the need to have a group meeting to set some ground rules. But whatever had continued to happen that he was unaware of was creating cracks in the trust of all the members, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I wrote to her on Taehyung’s Instagram,” Jimin began, looking down with his hands intertwined on his legs. “And I might have made things a lot worse...”

“Might have?” Taehyung turned to look at the blonde, who barely raised his head to meet his gaze before Hoseok interrupted.

“And what did you say to her?”

Jimin pressed his lips together. “I asked if we could meet in person, and when she said no, I just tried to apologize for everything.”

“Don’t forget that you proceeded to carry out a rather undisguised gaslighting.” Taehyung added.

“I didn’t manipulate her!”

“You spoke to her as if everything that happened didn’t matter at all!”

“That’s not how it was! I just expressed myself very poorly,” Jimin exclaimed, facing Taehyung’s accusations, who remained with his arms crossed and chin raised, clearly in disagreement with him. “You, more than anyone, know that I don’t communicate well through text.”

“Because you overthink everything. You didn’t even need to text her in the first place. I told you it was a terrible idea. Now she hates us even more!”

“Did she say that?” Hoseok intervened.

Taehyung gave him a disbelieving look.

“And I quote: fuck all of you.”

Hoseok took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Taehyung looked angry, and Jimin appeared offended that Taehyung was so upset about what he had done, in addition to misrepresenting his words, if Hoseok understood correctly. But the brown-haired guy had a point: it had indeed been a terrible idea, and Namjoon would lose all his hair if he found out. He understood Jimin’s motivation for trying to reach out, but Hoseok felt Jimin had lost some tact in the process by approaching you just to find a quick solution. Clearly, the atmosphere in the penthouse was affecting everyone, and not in a good way. He couldn’t judge or blame Jimin for trying to lighten the situation for both parties, even if he could have approached it differently.

So Hoseok sighed, understanding the magnitude of the problem they had, and turned to the two young men who were now looking at him attentively, after recently avoiding his gaze as if their lives depended on it.

“How did you think you were going to meet her with the level of fame you have?”

Hoseok knew Jimin had acted on impulse, and perhaps addressing the underlying reasoning would make him think better next time, if there was one.

Jimin opened his lips slightly, confused.

“I... I don’t know, but I would've found a way.”

Taehyung scoffed. That would have been impossible because, surely, only after Jungkook, Jimin was one of the most recognizable faces in the industry and, therefore, couldn’t walk freely down the streets without having a horde of fans behind him within seconds. If, for some divine reason, you had agreed to meet with Jimin, then he would have exposed you too much to the public eye and you would have had more problems before getting any answers.

“There’s no way, Jimin.” Hoseok spoke, as the blonde shot a fierce look at his brown-haired companion. “We’re no longer in a small town.”

The two young men turned to the elder, putting their silly squabbles aside. A feeling of nostalgia and longing filled the air, embracing them and bringing to the surface poorly buried memories in the gardens of their minds; the gusts of Hoseok’s words uncovered them easily.

“We can’t afford that luxury now. We lost the opportunity a long time ago.” Hoseok reminded them, with a hint of discord in his voice.

Taehyung hated remembering those times. Having had his hands tied, sealing his mouth voluntarily, believing he had no other option... it completely sickened him. For a long time, regret had physically drained him.

“I won’t talk to Namjoon, don’t worry.” Hoseok assured them, and although the two young men should've breathed with relief, the truth was that they already felt too shaken. “But be more careful about where you talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“Fuck!”

Taehyung jumped off the couch when the voice came from his right, being the closest to the source. The three friends turned to see Yoongi, walking down the hallway from his room to the main living area of the penthouse.

“Are you guys sharing secrets?��

Instead of being scared, Jimin and Taehyung fell back onto the couch, letting out an exhausted breath. Yoongi shot a confused look at Hoseok, who returned it with a more severe expression.

“Come here, Yoongi. We need to talk.”

-

i hope you guys enjoyed! and thanks to my friend for helping my unresponsive overworked ass.

[Friend: I don't know if the tags worked. I'm sorry!]

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[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 21: Try to Understand

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: I'm gonna go 18+, I'm not sure that it needs it, but I'm still gonna do it. Angst, Talks of pregnancy, Talks of possible abortion, Cursing, Fluff, Sexual References, Graphic Nightmare?, FLUFF, Family Problems, Self-deprecating thoughts, Awkward Situations, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Soldier Boy POV

After his shower, you still haven't come back from talking to Rosemary, and Ben decides that instead of eavesdropping on your conversation, he's going to go to the kitchen and get a drink. He knows exactly where Legend hides the good shit, mostly because Legend hid it to keep it away from Ben in the first place. And despite it happening forty years ago, nothing in Legend's house had changed. Ben had many memories of this house, at least two Herogasms had been hosted here, hell, Ben had memories in the room you two were sharing, but he kept them to himself.

The last thing he wanted was for you to think about any of the things that happened in the past, not when you had told him that he had made it up to you, not when you had held him close after all these years and whispered things to him that he always wanted you to say, and not when he was more happy than he'd ever been.

You said that you forgave him, Ben understood that, but that didn't mean he was going to stop making it up to you every day and it didn't mean that he was going to stop making you happy, because after all these years you were still the only thing he wanted, and he refused to lose you ever again.

He glances at the empty bottle on the nightstand, the one that you brought with you last night and the same bottle the two of you finished together.

He was surprised when you said you stopped drinking, but not completely. You'd only drunk socially as a supe, and Ben hadn't seen you drunk since the two of you were kids. He knew it was because you didn't want to lose control like he did.

Ben stutters on the memory of what happened in Mid-town, and what happened forty years ago when he threw a car through a house and killed an innocent bystander. Ben didn't believe he was a bad guy, he was a hero or- the memories of all the moments he lost control began to seep though the cracks- at least he thought he was.

His mind drifts back to you. You were always in control. The one time he'd ever seen you lose control was when you lost it at the premiere all those years ago. It was justified. Ben would have lost it too if he walked in on anyone fucking you. His jaw clenches at the thought, but then he remembers what you said last night, that there hadn't been anyone else, that you never wanted anyone else but him ever. It was surprising to him, that you hadn't moved on, even after all this time you still loved him the same way you always had and that there would never be anyone else.

Fuck. Ben took in a deep breath to avoid getting too excited remembering what you said, feeling warmth begin to build in his abdomen. It had been difficult to contain himself when you admitted that to him. If you had let him, he would have made love to you right then, made you feel things that no other man ever did, but you said you wanted to wait.

And Ben wanted to respect that, wanted to respect you.

He examines the empty bottle once more.

When you were younger he'd watch you get drunk on cheap beer that he bought you more than once, usually when you proclaimed that you could drink him under the table and then Ben had to practically corral you to get you home. Then again he liked those nights, when you'd try to sing, swing from light poles that lined the street, and you'd grab his hand and say crazy things like "let's run away" or "let's go egg Missy Callahan's house." Both of which Ben didn't need much more convincing to say yes, but the two of you never did.

He would have run away with you if you'd ever seriously asked him to, he would have dropped everything to leave, would have chosen you just as you chose him the night he showed up and asked you to go with him to get the serum. The promise he made to protect you and be strong for you the night you went with him was not new. He had repeated it to himself every day since the minute he realized how much you meant to him.

And he would continue to do it for the rest of his life.

Ben ascends the stairs, buttoning the Giants jersey that Butcher bought for him. He wasn't the biggest fan of them forty years ago, but it was one of the only shirts he had. And the last thing he wanted to do was walk around without a shirt on. Ben smiles to himself remembering your reaction when you walked in on him changing into his supe suit yesterday morning. He loved that you reacted to him that way, it was the same way that he reacted to seeing you yesterday when you were standing in your bathroom in only your bra, looking just as beautiful as you had forty years ago when he took you to bed and-

Fuck. Ben took in another deep breath finishing the last button to avoid thinking about you naked. It had been forty years for him and he knew that he was going to have to take it slow when it came to sex.

He stumbled into the kitchen and froze.

Lou was sitting at the square kitchen table that sat under a floor length window and looked out onto the sprawling backyard of Legend's property. Ben could see Rosemary and you talking at the very edge of where the grass met the thick woods beyond.

"Hi Ben!" Lou smiles wide at him. A giant box of crayons sits on the table just beyond her filled with every color known to man, while she scribbles in a sketchbook that looks suspiciously like the same ones that Ben had seen you buy for yourself in the past. "Do you know how to draw trees? Aunty y/n always does them for me, but she's talking to mommy."

"Um-" Ben clears his throat, fastening the last button of his shirt. Lou was smiling at him the same way you did, like she was genuinely happy that he was there, and he wasn't used to that. It was the same way you used to smile at him when he climbed through your bedroom window. He looks out the window to where you're still talking to Rosemary trying to find a way out, until finally he sighs. "No. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, mommy can't draw either." Lou looks back at her drawing while reaching for a brown crayon. She was wearing pink polka dot pajamas, pants and a shirt that matched. Ben had never seen pajamas like that before, but he supposed that pink was her favorite color, given that she was also wearing a pair of bright pink fuzzy slippers.

He couldn’t help but smile. He wondered if you hated how much Lou liked pink, if it reminded of those dresses your mother used to make you wear that always made you look like a giant iced birthday cake.

Personally, Ben didn’t think you looked that ridiculous, he thought that you looked cute, ruffly, but cute. You never believed him when he told you that.

Ben wandered over to the cabinet where he thought the whiskey was, but as soon as he opened it, he found the cabinet empty.

Did he fucking move it?

"It's under the sink." Lou said from behind him.

"What?" Ben turns around surprised.

Lou was still scribbling with her crayon in her sketchpad. "Uncle Legend came in and moved it this morning."

"Thanks." Ben awkwardly makes his way over to the sink, and sure enough behind the mop bucket is a full bottle of whiskey. He busies himself with pouring a glass before he eyes the chair next to Lou wondering if he should sit there.

Ben was nervous, he'd never admit it, but he was. This was his granddaughter, someone that you loved very much. He'd never been around a kid before, didn't have any siblings growing up, and certainly didn't have any relatives with children the way you had.

He liked to think that if he had been there when you were pregnant and when you gave birth to Rosemary he would have gotten used to it gradually. He wasn't sure if he could even be a dad, not after everything that happened with his own.

He was sure that he was going to be a disappointment to Rosemary and even to Lou and-

"Sit with me." Lou says, interrupting his train of thought as she gets off of her chair to pull out the one next to her for Ben tugging with all her strength to pull it out from under the table.

Ben hesitates, but finally smiles at her efforts to get him to sit with her and sits down.

An awkward silence falls over him, he's again unsure what to say, so he takes a sip from his glass and hopes that you'll come in and save him from saying the wrong thing, but given how upset you look standing outside with Rosemary, he's sure that it won't be anytime soon. The urge to go outside and get between Rosemary and you is strong, but just as he begins to move to get out of the chair, Lou interrupts him.

"You make her smile more." Lou says, while grabbing a red crayon with her chubby hand and begins to draw the petals of a flower in her sketchbook, meticulously trying to make them more circular, tongue between her teeth as she concentrates.

"Who?"

"Aunty y/n. She didn't smile as much before." She says it matter of factly.

"Really?"

Lou nods reaching into the box of crayons for a new color. "She tried to act like she wasn't sad, but I think she was. Sometimes when she thought I was asleep I would find her on the couch just sitting there. I think she was lonely. And I tried to give her bigger hugs but they never seem to work. Hugs always make me feel better." Lou sighs.

"I'm sure that your hugs made her feel better." Ben's says tightly. He's not sure how to talk to Lou, isn't sure if he should talk to her like an adult or not.

"I love aunty y/n. I want to be just like her when I grow up. I want to be an artist!"

Ben looks down at the sketchpad on the table beneath Lou’s hands. It was of a giant tree that had different colored flowers all squished together in its branches. Each flower was different than the last, crudely drawn, but under it all Ben could see her potential. It reminded him of the sketchbook pages you first showed him when you were eight and swore him to secrecy, threatening bodily harm if you told anyone else about them.

“You’re very good.” Ben says and Lou beams with pride at her drawing, before flipping to a new page. She holds out a brilliant yellow crayon towards Ben. “Please draw a sun right here.” She taps her finger against the top left of the page before placing the crayon in his hand.

“Oh I don’t think I-“

“You can do it Ben! Aunty y/n says that art doesn’t have to be perfect, that it gets messy sometimes but that makes it fun!” Rosie reaches for a purple crayon and begins to draw stick figures to the right of the page.

Ben had heard you say that before, usually after your mother would sneer or make a comment about your paint stained hands when he’d bring you home from a day at the park. But sitting here listening to Lou say it was different.

Lou reminded him of you as a kid. She wasn't afraid  to speak up, to say what she thought, and she was filled with creativity and love.

Ben always admired that about you, that you were able to create things so perfectly and that you always made space in your heart for him, even when he was a complete dick for so long. He wondered if Rosemary was like you too. He could see a bit of it when she told him off, saw how headstrong she was and how ready she was to protect who she loved from him.

Ben hated that Rosemary believed that he would hurt you again, when it all but tore his own heart out to do so the last time.

But he was trying, hoped that she could see that he was trying and hoped that one day she’d let him in. The problem was he wasn’t the most patient person in the world.

He looks down at the crayon in his hand frowning slightly. He wasn’t an artist like you. The only thing that he’d really ever drawn was the naughty doodle that got him kicked out of boarding school, the one that made you laugh so hard you pushed him off the bed when he drew it for you in your sketchbook. You’d tried to show him other ways of drawing and painting but he’d never been interested.

Not to mention he didn’t think it was manly. He didn’t think that a man should have a hobby like this. It should be fishing or hunting or something like that but he looks down at Lou.

Her eyes are shining bright with excitement, smile wide, dimples showing and he doesn’t want to disappoint her, not when she’s been nothing but nice to him since he showed up.

If Hughie or fucking Butcher come in here and see me drawing this fucking sun I’ll-

“You don’t look like your pictures.” Lou hums drawing a smile on the face of the stick figure.

“Huh?” Ben looks up confused.

“The pictures that mommy keeps in the drawer.” Lou says reaching for a black crayon to draw long flowing hair on the stick figure.

“What pictures?”

“Of you and aunty y/n. Mommy has some in her drawer.” Lou acts as if she hadn’t said anything, grabbing a different crayon to draw another stick figure.

“She has pictures of us?”

“Yeah. You don’t have the beard though. And you and aunty y/n are really young.” She pokes his cheek with a chubby finger, making Ben freeze. Lou squints her eyes at him. “You don’t look like the picture that aunty y/n drew either.”

Ben hesitates, eyes slightly widening. “She drew a picture of me?”

“Few days ago.” Lou scribbles. “You didn’t have a beard then either.”

In the new drawings and paintings that Ben had seen back at your apartment, he hadn’t seen any drawings of him, he assumed it was because of everything that happened, but to learn that you did still draw him made him smile.

“You don't like it?” Ben asks, amused.

She shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“Aunt y/n likes it.” He said it more to himself than to Lou. Like hell he was going to shave it off when he saw how much you liked it when he came back. Ben smiles to himself remembering how your heart beat jolted out of your chest whenever he touched you, how your cheeks flushed, how your smooth skin felt beneath his hands-

There were so many little things that Ben missed about you, so many things that he had forgotten, and now he got to learn each one all over again and fall in love with every part of you for the second time in his life.

The sun he drew in the top left of the page was lopsided, but Lou didn't complain, in fact she added a pair of sunglasses to it, and a bright smile that Ben laughed at.

"What are you two doing?" Ben hears your voice say as your hand gently rubs his back. Ben looks up embarrassed. He hadn't wanted to get caught with a crayon in his hand, but at least it had been you and not Butcher.

"We were just-" Ben begins to say, his eyes flicking to where Rosemary stands behind Lou eyes narrowed.

"Mommy look. Ben is helping me color!" Lou crows, picking up her drawing so Rosemary can see.

Ben realizes what Lou was drawing on the other side of the page. Lou has drawn Rosemary and you standing with Lou in between the two of you holding on to her hands. Ben's eyes slide to the last figure in the drawing, his chest suddenly very tight, it's him, standing beside you, frowning, but holding on to your hand.

Rosemary smiles tightly at the page with a sigh. "That's nice sweetie. Come on, let's get you dressed."

"But I like my pajamas."

"Do what your mother says Lou." You smile down at her, stroking her dark hair back from her face.

"Okay." She sighs dramatically and begins to walk out of the room, but Rosemary is still glaring at Ben.

"Rose-" You begin to say, but she interrupts you.

"She might be able to forgive you, but I'm not going to." Her eyes narrow. "I don't think you're good for her."

Ben is still sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, your hand solidly on his back as if you were making the statement that you weren't going to push him away. It solidified something, showed him how much you were willing to sacrifice to keep him in your life, and again enforced just how much you loved him. If Rosemary hadn't been standing there, he would have sat you on the marble countertop and sucked another mark into your neck. The one he left yesterday was already starting to fade and he wanted to replace it as soon as possible.

But he was still angry, angry that Rosemary wouldn't give him a chance. "Your mother means everything to me." Ben says honestly. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. All I'm asking is that you get to know me first before you-"

"I don't want to get to know you." Rosemary says. "And if you hurt my mother again, I’ll make you wish that you stayed in that fucking lab."

She's gone in an instant, making Ben feel a pain in his chest that he hadn't felt since he spoke to his own father decades ago, on those nights when his dad got so drunk that he couldn't stand up straight and the nights that his father's words rang heavy in Ben's ears. Those nights Ben would get drunk, climb up the tree outside your window, and stumble into your bed, curling into you because you were the only thing in his life that he couldn't stand to lose, couldn't stand to disappoint, and the only thing in his shitty life that made him happy.

"Ben-" He hears you say.

"Mhmm?"

"Look at me."

Ben looks up. He doesn't like the worry in your gaze, doesn't like how your own eyes are just a little rimmed red like you were crying.

"I love you." You whisper. "And she's not going to change that."

"Are you sure?" He barely breathes the words, afraid in his soul to admit them to you, to speak them into the universe.

You drop into his lap, putting your forearms on his shoulders.

"Ben." You drag your fingers through his hair, your touch soothing his anxiety. "You know me enough to know that I don't pull punches. If I didn't want you here, I would make sure you weren't." You press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "I want you here with me. I don't want you to go ever again. "

They were the words that he wanted you to tell him on the nights he crawled through your bedroom window, the question that he was always afraid to ask. Because he never believed that you could want him even a fraction as much as he wanted you, could love him and want to be with him as much as he wanted to be with you. And yet here you were after all these years after all the shitty things he did accepting him and letting him into your heart.

“Okay.” He leans his forehead against yours for a minute. “What did you talk about?”

“Homelander. And what happened yesterday.” You sigh. “She’s about as thrilled as I thought she’d be with us going after our old team. She was pissed when I told her about Countess the other day but this was worse.” You mutter holding on tight to him. “She’ll get over it. At least… I hope she will.”

“Mhmm.”

“I will say that I’m kind of jealous.”

“About?” Ben is suddenly worried.

What did I do? Did I-

“Every time I tried to get you to draw with me you said no.” Ben watches you frown dramatically. “And here you are with another woman-“

Ben rolls his eyes and shuts you up by closing the distance between your faces. You laugh into his mouth, his tongue finding the rigid edge of your front teeth as you do before you fit your mouth against his and kiss him, your soft lips molding against his in a way that makes a deep seated groan vibrate up through his chest.

“You try saying no to her.” Ben mutters.

“It’s impossible.” You open your eyes to stare at him again, your gaze filled with more love than Ben had ever seen. He’d never seen anyone look at him like that before, none of the other women he’d had in his life had ever looked at him the way you did. And he never wanted you to stop. You looked at him like he was special, treasured, like he was something that you never wanted to stop looking at, like you saw every part of him and refused to turn away.

He'd only seen that once before. He had taken a woman out for drinks, you had been doing an interview that ran late and Ben was trying to pass the time, but at the bar he had seen an older couple sitting in a booth in the corner. Ben couldn't look away from them. They were sitting on the same side of the booth, the man's arm draped over the woman who leaned into him with a wide smile, her gray hair pushed back in an elegant twist, but she looked up at him with such reverence that Ben couldn't help but think of you. When he saw that he left the woman he came with there and went to your apartment, to wait until you got back. And when you had fallen asleep Ben had folded you into his arms and allowed himself to dream that one day you would look at him the same way.

And now years later here you were looking at him as if he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, the same way you looked at him the morning after your birthday when you told him you loved him.

"But I did tell you that once Lou drew you into the family portrait, you were in." You reach back to pick up the drawing holding it between the two of you so he can see Lou's hard work. "She really captured your frown." You snort, leaning your head against his shoulder while you look at the drawing.

"Shut up." Ben squeezes you, but he can't help but smile at the paper.

And deep down Ben started to believe you when you said that this was his family too, because sitting there with Lou he had felt just as at home as he had with you.

All he had to do was convince Rosemary.

[30 MINUTES AGO] READER POV

I can't believe that she walked in on us IN BED. She's already pissed about me having him here, but why did her finding us together feel like the equivalent of my mother walking in on Ben and me?

You follow behind Rosemary silently, trying not to think of how sad Ben looked when you left him. You would have wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, curled up beside him and make him understand that no matter how much Rosemary wanted you to push him away, you weren't going to leave him.

You could see the fear flashing in his eyes, had seen it last night when he yelled at you. As much as he didn't want to admit it, you knew that Ben was still afraid that you would leave him. And knowing how much you meant to him made you love him even more.

It was a beautiful day. Legend's home was the only one within ten miles, his money well spent to keep himself secluded from the rest of the world. The large trees at the back of his home were tall and strong, their branches curling upward  to the sun as if they wished to worship it.

The sunlight was warm on your shoulders, soaking through your t-shirt and sweat pants as you follow behind your daughter, who was obviously trying to get out of earshot of Ben's supe hearing. You didn't want to break it to her that you'd probably have to drive at least a mile away for Ben's hearing to get a little bit fuzzy.

Finally, just as you reach the crest of trees at the back of the lot she stops and turns back to face you.

She's frowning and waits a minute to begin. "I want you to tell me what happened."

"I did-"

"No. You didn't tell me everything and I want to know exactly  what happened and why you had to fight Homelander."

You bite the inside of your cheek.

There really wasn't an easy way to sugar coat it or really explain it in a way that Rosemary would understand without getting angry.

She almost went ballistic the other day when I told her that I killed Countess and that was a complete accident. Us going after the Twins was not. Us going after the twins was calculated.

"Okay. Before we talk about that, I want you to understand why-"

"Oh you mean why you and Ben-" She seethes his name. "Were going after your old team? The exact thing that you told me you weren't going to do when you came to tell me about Countess?"

"Yes."

"Fine." She leans back against one of the trees, still frowning. "Go on."

"Ben told me what happened in Nicaragua. What Countess said was true, she seduced him to make me angry." You hold up a hand. "And before you say that Ben said those things to me and did those things of his own free will. I know."

Rosemary still doesn't look pleased.

"They betrayed him in Nicaragua. They attacked him and gave him to the Russian military."

"But why?"

"Honestly I'm not sure. I think it's because Ben used to be wild and impulsive and-"

"Used to be?"

"Just listen." You sigh. "He spent forty years in Russia being tortured and experimented on. They put something in his chest-"

"What did they put in his chest?"

"It's like an energy beam." You were giving her the short version about what the beam really did, because you didn't think that now was the best time to say that it might turn supes human. "But that's why we went to see the Twins, because they betrayed him and when Homelander showed up I had to step in."

Rosemary pinches the bridge of her nose and you can tell that she's trying very hard to not get angry. "So let me get this straight, you went to see the Twins, AS SOME KIND OF FUCKED UP REVENGE FANTASY?"

"Well-"

"No. My turn to talk." She holds up a finger like she's admonishing a toddler. "I can't believe that you can't see what's happening."

"See what?"

"You told me that things were different, that he'd changed but he hasn't! He's still the same angry dick! The only person that's changed is you!"

"What?"

"And you don't fucking see it!" Rosemary shouts. "You facing Homelander, you killing Countess, you going after your old team- it's all him! As soon as you got a whiff of Soldier Boy you started to slip back into the person that you were forty fucking years ago."

"That is ridiculous-"

"No it's not. And it's all him. He is the one making you throw the life away that you have made for yourself. He is the one making you use your powers again! He is the one making you go along with his ridiculous revenge plot-"

"Ben is not making me do anything!"

"He is-"

"You have no idea what that's like for people who say that they're your friends betray you. To have people who you thought trusted you give you up like that. They stabbed him in the back Rosie, and they sent him away to another country to be tortured. Do you have any idea what they did to him there? Our old team deserves everything that is coming to them."

"I don't know who you are anymore."

"I am still the same person I was. I am still me."

"No I don't think you are-"

Your jaw tightens. "Look, I understand that you're upset with this whole situation. With having to be here and with me letting Ben back into my life, but he is my family too."

She bristles when you say the word 'family.'

She has to understand that, to know that Ben is my family, is her family.

"Rosemary, do you have any idea what I would do for you if someone tried to hurt you or Lou the way they hurt Ben? What I would do to them for even trying?" You whisper it, but you can see her expression soften as she considers what you were saying. "You were angry with me because I was going to go to Russia alone. You wanted to protect me. And even all this stuff with Ben, you have been trying to protect me from him because you believe that he's going to hurt me again. How is this any different?"

“It is.”

“Why? Because he’s hurt me?” Your eyes lock with hers. “I’ve hurt you by letting him back in my life. Are you saying that now you wouldn’t protect me? That if I asked you to go with me to Russia right now you wouldn't do it.”

She stands there looking at you for a minute, letting what you've asked hang in the air between the two of you. And you know that deep down she understands the need to protect her family the same way you did.

"No. That's not what I'm saying. You depend so much on him and it's only been three days." She sighs. "Mom you were happy before-“

"No I wasn't." You mutter.

The memories of the last three days with Ben proved that. You hadn't realized just how in the hole you were until he walked back into your life. Until you felt how much you loved him and now understood how much he loved you. Waking up with him, falling asleep with him, spending time with him, seeing his smile, hearing him speak, and feeling him beside you all felt different. She was right, you did feel different. You felt lighter and warmer, like you'd mainlined sunshine, like everything else had been colorless until Ben walked back in.

You understood that now you may have tried to be happy, and you were with Rosemary and Lou, but not anywhere else. Being with Ben felt right.

Rosemary eyes you for a minute and then finally sighs.  "I know."

"What?" You weren't expecting her to say that.

"He's been here only three days and you're-" She searches for the word reluctantly. "You're glowing."

"Huh?"

"My entire life I've watched you. I know you. You're my best friend. And I'm not saying that you haven't been happy, but with him you're a different person."

"You've already said that and it's not true. I'm still me-"

"Not about the supe shit." She shakes her head. "The way you look at him, the way you smile, the way whenever he shifts in another direction you do too like somehow you sensed it. And it scares me."

"Why does that scare you?"

"Because if he decides this is all too much and he leaves, I don't want to see the person you become when he does." She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "I kinda feel like I've seen that person the last thirty nine years."

"That's ridiculous-"

"You told me about before, told me how you were when he left, I didn't see it, I couldn't imagine it, but now seeing you with him, understanding just how much of a hold he has on your life, understanding how much you love and care for him- mom… I see that the life you made for us, you still weren't you. I'm not sure if you were really completely happy and now seeing you with him, I-"

You place your hands on her cheeks. "Rosie. What happened forty years ago is not your fault. I would not change a single second that I spent with you and Lou. I do not regret the life that I've made with you. I do not regret you. I want you to understand that. The things that happened between me and Ben, even though they were fucked up, does not mean that I don't love you."

"I know that." She whispers, but you're suddenly unsure.

You thought that you'd expressed that to Rosemary enough over the years, that you did not regret having her, that you wouldn't change that decision.

"Rosie please." You hug her, tears burning just behind your eyes. "You are not a mistake. I love you." You pull back to look at her green eyes, the same as Ben's. "And I wouldn't change a single thing about my life. Because maybe I wasn't happy with me, but I was when I was with you and Lou."

"Okay." She pulls back with a sigh.

"I just wish that you'd try to talk to work things out with Ben." You search her face. You told yourself that you weren't going to get involved, but you wanted her to like him. He was her father and he was going to be spending time with you.

"Look I don't want to hate him, and maybe I don't, but it's not your fault." Her expression hardens. "He shouldn't have shouted at you yesterday for that. You didn't make me hate him or make him the villain. It's not your fault." She repeats.

"Maybe it is. I told you all those things about him, I made you focus only on the bad, only on the things that happened towards the end-"

Rosemary takes your hand. "Mom you told me everything. I remember the good things. I remember what your friendship was like. I remember the stories you told me when I was a kid about Ben and you running around Philadelphia."

"Which ones?"

"When he was strong for you when you couldn't be. When he took care of you, when he took you places, when he supported your art. When he made sure that you were happy. I-" She pauses.  "I haven't forgotten those."

"Then why-"

"Because they happened before. When Ben was still Ben and not Soldier Boy. I've seen every single film. Watched every interview, commercial, and even those stupid music videos." Rosemary shakes her head as if trying to rid herself of the image.

"You have?"

"Yes. And I saw the person he became."

You knew what that looked like. Ben really did go all out for the cameras when they were rolling, but when it was the two of you he was just him. And the past two days he had shown that person to you all over again, and you knew deep in your heart that you were trusting him again.

"I know that you don't believe me when I say this, but he really is different."

"Sure."

You sigh. You knew that she wouldn't believe you, that she was just so hell-bent on pushing him away that she wouldn't listen to you. But you knew deep down that he was different, and that he was trying. It was enough for you.

Ben was enough. And the fact that he was willing to throw away all the macho bullshit he had spouted in the past, that he was willing to try to change to be the boy you fell in love with, meant everything to you.

You knew that you had probably forgiven him too early, but you wanted to believe him, and you wanted him to be back in your life.

Rosemary echoes your sigh and looks back up towards the house, stamping her foot in frustration. "Did you at least kick his ass?"

"Who? Ben? I told you that I threw him-" You begin to say suddenly confused.

"No." The ends of her lips twitch into a smile. "Homelander."

You laugh. "Yeah. They don't really make heroes the same way these days."

"Good. He probably fucking liked it."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that." You snort remembering the look he gave you when you threw him against the ground. "But it was kind of cathartic to throw him around. I feel a lot better. Maybe you should give it a try." You narrow your eyes at your daughter. "I mean Homelander not Ben."

Rosemary's lips pull into a mischievous smirk, looking more like Ben than she ever has. "I'll keep that in mind."

READER POV

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, heart racing to catch up as you tug your arms to get them free, but leather restraints hold them in place at your sides. A cold chill seeps up through the metal table you lay on though the thin paper gown that covers your body. Brilliant light from fluorescent square lights above blinds you. And even when you shut them tight the flash of red that stays behind burns through your iris.

Shadows move just on the edge of your vision and you strain your ears to hear them speak, to understand why you're here, why you're strapped to this table, but the only thing that remains is a garbled sound broken only by the rapid ding of a heart monitor.

Where am I? How did I-

A sharp pain deep inside of you makes your breath catch, an uncomfortable sensation between your legs. You try to kick out, but your legs are strapped down, pried apart and bent at the knee. Your pleas for release are slurred as if you've forgotten how to speak.

Someone brings their hand down over your mouth and you bite down, blood and flesh sticking between your teeth and the person strikes your face savagely.

The shadows that pass over where you lay on your back are impossible to bring faces to and their muffled conversations are just out of reach.

And when you open your mouth to scream everything goes black.

"Y/n!" You hear Ben shout as you come to, his hands on your shoulders shaking you from sleep, but you can't move, can't speak still stuck in whatever hell-scape that your mind designed. "Please Sweetheart." He's leaning down over you, eyes wide with fear and anxiety, eyebrows pulled together. "Wake up."

"Ben-" You croak, breath coming in gasps, eyes blinking to focus on him above you.

Ben breathes out a sigh of relief, pulling you up into his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin.

"Ben." You say again, tears falling from your eyes sobs shaking your shoulders, breath coming in gasps as you cling to him, holding on to him so tight you think you hear his back crack.

“Shhh. It’s alright Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m right here.” Ben murmurs into the top of your head, rubbing his hand down your spine.

It wasn’t the first time you’d had the nightmare, but it was the first time you’d had it in forty years. It had started a few years before Ben had been taken. You don’t know why, but you always assumed that it was stress of being a hero or your heartache over Ben refusing to see you as more than a friend, that finally you cracked. But you didn't know why that particular scenario. The only time that you'd seen something remotely similar was the day that you received your injection of Compound V and you figured maybe your mind created the dream to haunt you.

And now it’s back because I’m stressed about all this shit with Homelander.

You inhale the familiar scent of Ben’s cologne, tears soaking into the front of his black shirt, but it does little to calm your heartbeat. You sob again, arms wrapped around his neck holding him tighter to you as you shudder.

“It’s alright. I’m right here.” Ben says again. His hand trails gently down your spine up and down in a soothing motion to calm you down.

He’d comforted you before after the same nightmare, he knew exactly what you saw each time, but he also was confused as to why you saw it. In his arms you felt safe, as if no one else could touch you or pull you away. You wondered if Ben felt the same way when you held him.

“Shh.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, pushing back the strands of hair that clung to your sweaty forehead.

You shudder again, sweat sticking your shirt to your back, but your heartbeat begins to slow as you take in another breath.

“Same dream?” Ben whispers.

“Yeah.” You breathe. “I haven’t had it since you were-“ You choke on the words again as the images from what you saw come back. The mumbled voices of the figures fading in and out of your ears.

“Did you ever figure out what it was?”

“No. I-“ You inhale. “I don’t know. I-“

Your body shakes again as you cling to Ben, trying to forget the dream that never seemed to go away. “I don’t know.”

READER POV

In the days that followed Butcher and Hughie looked for Mindstorm's last known location, and Rosemary tried to stay as far away from Ben as she could, which wasn't too far because she refused to leave Lou alone with him. And Lou kept wanting to do more and more with Ben.

But you didn't mind that, because it meant that Rosemary got to sit front row to Ben trying to get more comfortable around Lou.

And try he was. He sat with her each day while she drew after breakfast, watched you and her paint side by side on Legend's back porch, waited patiently while you braided Lou's hair back from her face, and even indulged her in the occasional game of Go Fish that Ben always seemed to lose. But he didn't mind or at least not that you could tell.

"I understand that you all have this kind of fucked up fantasy when you go after Mindstorm," Rosemary sighed leaning back on Legend's dark brown leather couch with a beer in her hand. "But I still don't see how this is going to help us with Homelander."

Butcher shrugs taking a sip from his own beer bottle, brooding in the chair across from her. Hughie mirrors the shrug and reaches for the last slice of pizza in the ornate glass coffee table in front of the couch.

You were sitting on the couch beside her, your legs folded up underneath you with a mug full of scotch clutched between your hands, while Ben stretched out beside you nursing his own glass of whiskey.

In all the years that you had known Legend, there never seemed to be a shortage of booze. Ben respected that.

Lou was sleeping soundly upstairs, you kept checking on her every few minutes with your supe hearing, but so far she hadn't woken up.

"Because those two wanted us to go after their old team first." Butcher gestures to Ben and you with his bottle.

"At least we don't have a hard-on for Homelander." Ben frowns. "Can't tell if you want me to kill him or if you want to fuck him."

"Ben-" You sigh.

You had tried not to think about Homelander over the past few days, but it was unavoidable. You bite the inside of your cheek remembering what it was like to fight him, what it was like to hold him by the throat and stare into his nearly black eyes.

He had been pissed. You knew that, but you hadn't expected to feel so weird when you looked at him. You remember his blonde hair, the sharp smell of hair dye, the strong cut of his jaw-

Your thumb rubs the side of the mug you're holding. There was something else about him though, something that you couldn't place, something that when you looked at him you felt that you had forgotten something. Something important that nagged and tugged at the back of your mind.

But what? I've seen him before, at least not in person, and definitely not that close. Only in those pathetic interviews on T.V, on those stupid energy drinks…

You think again about the grip you had on his throat, remember the angular planes of his face.

"That doesn't fucking help." Rosemary rolls her eyes and you look up at your daughter.

She really does act like Ben even if he wasn't around through her childhood.

You think to yourself, your eyes tracing her face, looking at the soft dusting of cinnamon colored freckles over her cheeks that she usually hid under makeup and the nose that always reminded you of your father.

You think about Homelander again. But what did I forget? What about him made me-

Your entire body freezes as you stare at Rosemary's face, the face that you'd looked at for the past forty years.

No. That's impossible-

You can't breathe, can't think. Something cold clamps over your heart the chill soaking into your bones like you've sunk into deep water. All other sounds in the room fade into a muddled haze as you sit there and stare at her, eyes widening, heartbeat beginning to thud loudly in your ears.

Oh. My. Fucking. G-

The mug shatters in your hand, glass and alcohol going everywhere, but you don't feel anything. Only the sense of dread, and the chill that spreads with the coming storm and the understanding of what it is you've forgotten.

And you hoped to God that you were wrong.

A/N: I'M BACK BABY! Honestly after a week off I am doing alot better. Thank you everyone for the love and support. I hope y'all liked this chapter. It's moving the story right on along and the next chapter is going to be BIG and BLOODY. But we'll make it through.

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist or if you are already apart of the taglist and it didn't notify you, please let me know! :)

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[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

[neptuneiris]

detachment (02/03)

did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

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hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance… hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

taglist:

@iloveallmyboys @libdarkheart @angelianlearp @happinessinthebeing @targaryenmoony @tempt-ress @callsign-blue @twobluejeans @luna-salem @literatureluster @thekinslayersswordhand @queenofshinigamis @bugshideaway @minttea07 @itszzmoon

[dramaticals]

you're too good for him - chapter one.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you're theo's best friend and he's secretly pining over you... but you have a boyfriend. modern au. based on what can i do by reneé rapp.

✧ read: part two ✧

Theodore doesn't get it.

Your relationship with your boyfriend has always perplexed him. Your boyfriend was best described as moderate—moderate in humor, intelligence, and looks. You could do so much better.

Especially now, as you bite back the tears and bury your face in the crook of Theo's neck when you can't hold it back any more, he wonders why you still put up with the guy.

Theo pulls you closer, and he feels a quiet breath of relief against his neck as you sink into him.

It's becoming a regular occurrence now—not that Theo minded. He'd prefer having you to himself under better circumstances, but this seemed like the only way you two could hang out as of late. And as much pain you were in, Theo selfishly relished in these moments when you'd forget about lover boy and remember him. Remember that it used to be you and him. Even if your remembering only lasted a night.

You and Theo were an unlikely pair, shoved together by the fates—first grade school bus seating. The spot next to Theo was the only seat left on the bus, and after he reluctantly slid his backpack over to make room for you, the two of you became inseparable.

While Theo was reserved, you were the burst of energy that compelled everyone in the room. While Theo had a temper, you had the patience of a gentle stream. You balanced each other out. Maybe even made each other better. For the next thirteen years, it had only ever been you and Theo—until lover boy came along. And then Theo made himself sparse, pushing you away until you were arms length instead of right by his side because it had killed him to see you so happy with someone that wasn't him.

And it was unlike Theo to get in the way of your happiness. If you claimed you were happy with lover boy, then Theo just had to deal with it. You made that clear to Theo the first time he tried to intervene.

"Why are you acting like this?" You had asked when Theo first pointed out lover boy's flaws. By this point, the rose-coloured lenses were etched onto you like stone.

"Like what?" Theo spat. This was the first time his anger had been directed at you. You didn't let it faze you.

"Like... you're jealous, or something." You said, voice thick with animosity.

Theo's eyes darkened. He was jealous. Jealous that you refused to notice how Theo looked at you. Jealous that it took one stupid note from lover boy for you to forget all about him.

But he was also concerned. He was trying to look out for you.

"I just don't understand why you can't be happy for me." You continued, unaware of the hurt expression on Theo's face. "You're supposed to be my friend."

"I am your friend," Theo said softly.

Ever since that night, Theo sat pathetically and idly on the sidelines, watching you fall more in love with someone who didn't deserve you. Theo picked up the pieces lover boy shattered every time. Because he was your friend.

But if Theo was anything else, he was also relentless. While Theo stopped trying to tell you what to do, he didn't hide his disdain for your boyfriend. Especially on nights like these.

"You want me to hurt him? I'll gladly hurt him." Theo says, and this prompts you to shake your head. Theo asks this every time you come crawling over with tears staining your cheeks. And every time, you refuse. You know Theo well enough to know he'd do it in a heartbeat. He was just that type of friend to you.

"He's not worth it." You say, pulling back a little so you could face him. You sniffled.

Even in the dim lighting of Theo's bedroom, he can see the red in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, and the inexplicable expression of heartbreak on your face.

God, he really wanted to hurt the guy.

"I don't know, I think I'd have fun." Theo says, his hand mindlessly rubbing against the small of your back. His lips curl into a small smile at the mere thought of his fists in lover boy's face.

After everything he'd done to you, it was only a matter of time before Theo intervened again.

"No," You say again. You give him a weak smile. "I'd rather you stay here with me."

And so that's what Theo does. He stays, pulls you into the familiar comfort of his bed, and turns on your favourite movie. Theo doesn't care for it, having been forced to watch the movie a million times before. But he makes an effort, letting out his own share of chuckles and commentary you've discussed a hundred times over.

When the credits roll, you're nuzzled against him comfortably. Your hand rests lazily against his chest as you shift closer to him. He rests his cheek against the top of your head.

"You're a really great friend, Theo." You say with a yawn. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

Friend.

His breath hitches and he curses himself for the visceral reaction. Of course that's what he was—what he'll always be to you. Why couldn't he just get it through his head?

Theo swallows hard. He's thankful the screen goes black now, shielding the grimace on his face.

"Lost, probably."

[ldysmfrst]

Incomplete (1) - A Pull to Where?

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 1 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 3,376  

Word count for Story: 3,376  

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does not really contain anything to warn about. (let me know if I am wrong)

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“I can’t believe it! We are all here for the LA concert! This will be the first time for us. I am so proud of everything and love you all,” exclaimed Hongjoong. Looking around BMO stadium quickly before the VIP ticket holders came in, he could not believe they finally made it after six years. 

“All thanks to our wonderful Captain,” Seonghwa says as he back-hugs his shortest soulmate. “Did you see the lines are already starting to fill with our Atiny? Are you sure we brought enough Merch for all of them?”

“Don’t worry about that, Hwa. I am sure our management brought what they could. Remember, we have to split it between two shows. Are you sure you are up for this? You haven't taken the time to lament your grandfather’s passing. I am sure Atiny will understand if you cannot make it through the show,” Yeosang comments with a concerned look.

Smiling softly, Seonghwa replies, “Atiny are my light in my darkest times. Right now, performing for them… I feel like I am performing to keep my own light shining inside. I couldn’t do this without them, and want to perform best for this tour to honor my late grandfather.”

“Hwa, he is so proud of you. I can tell,” Hongjoong says, turning his head to kiss Seonghwa on the cheek.

One of the stagehands tells the three soulmates, “You have one hour to get ready for sound check.” 

“Let's head backstage and get ready to charm our Atiny,” Yeosang remarks as he pushes Seonghwa and Hongjoong towards the back. 

As the three missing soulmates make it behind the stage, Seonghwa feels his chest tighten. Dropping his hug on Hongjoong, Seonghwa makes his way to the side, where he can glimpse the lawn where the queue is set up for the merchandise and the standard entry. His eyes search the crowd for something. 

Maybe someone familiar or someone to stand out. 

Seonghwa was the most sensitive of all his soulmates, which is why he was known to Atiny as Momhwa. He always cared for the children (San, Wooyoung, Johngo, Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho) while the Captain was off doing captain-like things. He was also the one to beg for alone time but then worried 24/7 that the rest of his soulmates were being taken good care of when they weren’t in his eyesight. 

Recently, the kids have grown up, which has allowed Hongjoong and Seonghwa to focus on other things. During this time, Seonghwa noticed that he felt like something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Looking over the crowds, it felt like something was nearby, but what could it be?

“Hwa-hyung, are you okay? Did you see someone out there?” asked San after noticing the intense look on Seonghwa’s face as he peeked out the gap in the stands. 

Rubbing his chest, Hwa replied, “Yeah… I think so. It just gotta be nerves. Still get them, ya know?” San nodded with a smile. “Being back in LA means so much to Joong-ah, and I don’t want to mess it up.” 

Shrugging off the tightness, Seonghwa went to his chair to prepare for sound check. He took his seat between Mingi and Yunho, who are always inseparable; their idle chatter overtook Hwas's thoughts as they got closer to showtime.

“Good job on the sound check, boys! BE:FIRST is ready to go on, and the rest of the gates will open in five,” called another stagehand as they rushed by.

“Mingi-ah, how is your back? You seemed like you were limping a little,” asked Yunho.

“It’s my chest that feels like… I don’t know, like a burning but not a painful burn,” Mingi answered, rubbing his chest. 

“You too?” San and Seonghwa asked at the same time. The three of them looked at each other with wide eyes. Grabbing the other two, Seonghwa pulled them closer to the rest of the group.

“Hey guys, listen to this. San, tell us what you feel,” ordered Hwa.

“Umm… well, it is like a strap around my chest, and it’s pulling me out of the stadium,” San told the group, “Why, hyung?”

“Mingi?” prompted Hwa.

“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate,” he agreed. Looking over his shoulder at BE:FIRST taking the stage, he rubbed his chest harder. "Whatever it is, it just kicked up a notch, but now it's pulling…”

“Toward the stage, right?” Seonghwa urgently says. “Like it’s pulling us to the other side of the stadium?”

San and Mingi nod in agreement. Seonghwa, however, watches Hongjoong’s confused reaction to this information. 

“Hey guys! First set of costumes now, please!” urges the wardrobe noona. Reluctantly to end the conversation, the members get dressed and head to their positions to start the first of two LA Shows. 

The feeling of pulling intensifies as they take the stage, pulling around the stadium and then towards the crowd. The three who feel this intensity seemingly find themselves consistently on the same side of the stage. So often, when they return for their first intermission, the Captain pulls them aside.

“What is going on with the three of you?” Hongjoong asks urgently. “San, you have to pull it together. You are up next. Focus on all of our Atiny, not just the one side. Remember, the performance for our Atiny comes first. We wouldn’t be here without them. Please don’t make the others feel left out.”

“Sorry, Captain. I will do better. I better hurry and change,” San pouts as he runs toward Wooyoung, who also looks concerned. 

“You two, figure out what is going on. I know you both are sensitive to energies and such. If it is something bad, we need to warn security. Even though we are in Korea, it doesn’t mean they don’t have crazed fans, too,” warns Hongjoong.

“You got it, Hyung. Hwa-hyung and I will try to figure it out, but the performance won’t suffer,” Mingi says confidently. Seonghwa nods in agreement as they change costumes and proceed with part 2 of the concert. 

“Seonghwa, San, Mingi, and Hongjoong, what in the hell is going on with you?” exclaims their manager. “Green room. NOW. All eight of you.”

Thankfully, this is a longer intermission as the eight follow their manager’s orders. Pilling into the room, they notice their following change of costumes is laid out and ready for them. Without hesitation or shyness, the soulmates start to change as the manager comes in, “Talk.”

“Manager-nim, we are trying our hardest, but there is something about that side of the venue that is pulling the three of us,” Seonghwa says, pulling up his pants. “I think there is either someone important over there, either someone we already know or someone we need to know.”

“Only the three of you feel this way?” asks the manager, looking around at the rest of the group. 

The rest of the group nods or voices their agreement as they change. He continues, “If that is the case, then you three must stick together, and the rest of you will entertain the rest of Atiny. See if you can figure out what section this “important person” is in.”

“Yes, manager-nim. Thank you,” San bows with a huge smile. Even though Seonghwa and Mingi were the more sensitive ones, San was the one who could hone in on the source the best of them all. He could technically leave the stage and run around with the manager's permission. 

San glanced at their Captain and Seonghwa with a questioning smile, to which both nodded, and San took off looking for his personal security guard. None of the security guards liked it when the boys would go around Atiny, but they got paid extra, so no complaints were heard. Once they discussed San's route, during which song(s), it was time to get in place. 

Taking a deep breath, San focuses on the pull and latches on. It was time to figure out who or what was causing them such a feeling.

This member of the Demon line was on a hunt. 

“Damn it!” San yelled, throwing his hat against the make-up vanity. 

Wooyoung ran up behind him, pulling the fuming soulmate into his arms. “Sannie, it’s okay. Maybe they left early? Do you still feel them?”

“Yes. Yes, I do, but because of the send-off, we cannot go out there and find out what is happening,” San whined into Wooyoung’s neck as he hugged the slightly younger soulmate. “I know what section the pull is centered on, but what 50-100 seats are in that section alone?”

“Maybe they will be at the send-off or back tomorrow night?” offered Wooyoung.

“Hey, San-ah, thank you for trying,” Seonghwa says, entering the room with the rest of the group. “We had a sold-out stadium, and I am proud of you for getting the section down. We can talk to the arena or Ticketmaster to see if they can share any information with us.”

“You know that is all private information, Hwa-hyung,” chides Jongho. “They can’t give out that information. It probably isn’t anything big. If it was something or someone important, they would have reached out to KQ or RCA Records by now or will soon. Don’t let it bother you much longer.”

“You three need to make sure to get rest for tomorrow, please,” asks Yunho.

San, Hwa, and Mingi sigh at the idea that they can’t find any more information right now. San swears that he almost had it. Mingi knows that it is more important than the others believe. Seonghwa thinks he has finally found what is missing.

Today couldn’t have started any worse! 

First, you were so excited that you didn’t get a proper night's rest because you couldn’t fall asleep, and then you kept waking up, hoping not to sleep through your alarms. 

Second, your car breaks down and won't be ready til Monday, but luckily, it is the dealership's fault, so they give you a rental car. 

Third, your make-up artist, who you paid extra for, is sick, so you get the newbie who can’t do a dramatic eye to save anyone's life.

When you meet up with friends who had pushed you to listen to the K-pop band known as Ateez, things finally turn around. You hadn’t seen the two of them in a couple of years, but because of your mutual delulu (not really) ((well kind of)) love of the eight-membered band coming to Los Angles for their World Tour, you finally got to spend time together pining over some of the hottest men in the world. 

You spent the better part of the first half of 2024 sharing shorts, reels, Facebook posts, and YouTube videos back and forth. Because of those interactions, you realize you don’t have a bias.

True, you did lean towards Seonghwa and San, but then again, you always liked eyes like theirs or Hwa’s unisexual vibes, and even San's boyfriend code made you smile to yourself when he wandered into your daydreams. 

With that in mind, your friends got you a “Baby Atiny Bias package,” which included a photo facecard of San in a cute fuzzy kitty-looking pouch, a SANdeoki mini doll, and a Lightiny with Ateez logo keychain. You shocked them with your excitement to finally have something representing that you were and will always be an Atiny! 

After changing into concert-attending clothes and correcting the failed makeup job, the three of you decided to make your way to the Pop-Up, hoping to get some merch before the concert. This was your first pop-up, and it was at a place called Hello82! By the time you arrived, hardly anything was left, and your friends said you would have better picks at the arena. 

After grabbing some extremely needed coffee due to damn insomnia and the weird dreams of the eight men fawning over you, then some lunch, it was time to head to BMO stadium.

LA traffic sucked on a typical day; add in a K-pop concert, and the Dodgers playing just made it a bajillion times worse. However, parking was a breeze, which was surprising, to say the least. 

That’s when the good times came to a standstill. 

Literally. 

Over three hours of standing in the sun before you finally made it to the front of the merch line, they were sold out of everything you originally wanted besides the Seonghwa picket. So you settled on a sleeveless shirt and the picket.

You decided that you would have to get the Hwa one because you already had all the San stan stuff (s-cubed, you giggled to yourself), and you didn't save up enough to get all eight.

When the three of you needed clarification on which entryway was right, your friend asked a BMO employee, who guided you to the standard line. 

Well, they lied. 

After an hour of waiting in line to go to the standard entrance, you were informed that you actually had floor tickets that required you to enter the other end of the arena.

By this time, BE:FIRST had just taken to the stage, which pissed you off because you loved the new song they collaborated with Ateez on called Hush Hush, and you wanted to support them too. 

Finally making it into the arena, you are still walking to your seats as Ateez takes the stage in their white princely uniforms, making you want to melt on the spot. You weren't normally a lover of white, but you loved them in white. The demon-line looks like angels before their fall right now.

Luckily, the floor tickets came with someone to take you to your seats, so you could at least follow the worker while your eyes never left the stage as Crazy Form kicked off the show. 

Once in your seats, you never used them aside from the strange little intermission video thingies they did. You were standing, yelling, screaming, attempting to sing in Korean, and jumping up and down. You were amazed at the sold-out arena that they had. I'm so lucky to have a master ticket-grabber friend to get these seats.

Spinning around, you noticed another reason for the group to fall even harder: they had American Sign Language interpreters.

With how hard the base was in most of their songs, you knew they had to have a decent following from the Deaf community, and seeing them honor those Atinys almost made you want to cry. Your mom is hard of hearing, so you know ASL also, and your mom was a closet Atiny, but no one will ever know. 

They sang so many songs, and you knew all of them. EEEKK!!

Maybe you were a little obsessed with them over the last two years. But they were mixed in with others like Stray Kids, Astro, ZeroBaseOne, BigOcean, OmegaX, WaveV, and BTS. You had variety in K-pop and even started listening to J-pop and T-pop as well.

As for Western music, don’t ask about anything that happened or who was hot because you hadn’t a clue. Suddenly, the concertgoers around you start screaming their heads off, breaking you out of your inner discussion.

“Look, look! It’s San!” exclaimed your friend Kat while poking you in the side. Pointing over to the section next to you…

There

He

Was

San was there, like… right there, and he was walking this way while singing. 

OUCH

You grip your chest at the sudden tightness. Damn. You knew you would react if you ever got close to any of the K-pop idols you loved, but this was a bit extreme. You lived in LA County. You see actors all the time. It’s no biggy… so why?

Your eyes never left his form as he walked around the section you were in. He is so attentive to all of the Atiny that gain his attention, you notice. Being older than the 7/8s of the group and conscious of the age-haters out there, you sink back, letting the younger fans have their time.

Besides, you are a baby Atiny, and people like your friends Kat and Cindy have wanted to see them since they debuted. Plus, you also had a healthy understanding that they were just people who decided to share their talent with the world. That was another thing you learned living in LA for so long.

“Where did you go?” Cindy asked. “He was right here. You could have gotten some amazing pictures. I bet if you had shown him your SANdeoki, he would have given you at least a high-five.”

Standing back up, you looked around, “Cindy, I am not gonna take his time away from others that are bigger stans than I am. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, sure, you just got nervous meeting one of your crushes,” Kat teased you. “If Seonghwa came down, you would have spontaneously combusted.”

“I think after the looks she gave Mingi, SanHwa now has competition for their spot as her bias,” Cindy laughed. 

“Oh, quite you two. You guys know that I have a hard time picking my favorites. I have an easier time picking ones that I would have a harder time meeting, like Jongho, Lee Know, or Seokjin. Those guys scare me with their seriousness.”

As the eight members said their goodbyes, your chest got even tighter, and your eyes started to well up. Why does it feel like you are leaving a part of yourself behind?

My goodness.

You had heard of post-concert depression, but you thought that was a joke. You attended a N*SYNC concert as a little girl and even a Creed Concert in college, but you never cried when the show was over. 

That is when you heard the laughing. Looking up at your friends, they are trying their best not to bust a gut as they watch you lamenting over the end of the nearly three-and-a-half-hour show. Glaring at them playfully, you stood up to leave but noticed a group of fans sticking around in a section near the stage.

“What is that for?” you ask.

“Oh, they must have VIP with send-off included,” offers Kat.

“What is a send-off?”

“It’s when the bands come out and meet fans, sign some stuff, take pictures, blah blah blah as they leave the venue they are in,” she clarifies. “Those were sold out before I could get them. Actually, all the VIP stuff was gone in the blink of an eye.”

“Coachella totally boosted their American Atiny numbers,” commented Cindy.

“I almost went to Coachella. You know Bethany? She works with Coachella and a few other festivals around here. She offered me to join the team for the first weekend because they were short-staffed, but I couldn’t swing it,” you said as you headed up the stairs to exit. “I wish I had said yes because she got to meet them all. She says that San and Wooyoung are a total couple, and the Twin Towers are too.”

“Well, I am glad you didn’t go, or I wouldn’t have been able to have our first Ateez concert as a memory, plus YOUR first K-pop concert EVER!!!” screamed Kat!

“Well, now that all of BMO knows,” giggled Cindy.

Laughing along with them, you rub your chest, still feeling a tightness you swear is pulling you to the stage area.

Ignoring the strange and slightly painful pull in your chest because you are not a delulu American sasaeng, you take a deep breath and focus on your photos.

“Holy Shit! I have over 700 photos and videos!”

“Yeah, and wasn’t she just mumbling about not being a sasaeng?” questions Cindy as you get to the car to go home. 

“Well, I have until the Stray Kids concert next year to go through them all and widdle it down to my favorites. That way, I can take 800 of Felix and Bang Chan,” you snark back. 

Buckling up your seat belt, you can’t help but keep your eyes on the BMO Stadium. Your chest gets tighter and tighter as you get farther away. Your mom has always mentioned following your instincts because they would know better than anything your mind will tell you.

So why are your instincts telling you that you left something important behind?

Next

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legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

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Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight. 

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately. 

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face. 

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.” 

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head. 

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” 

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly. 

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?” 

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year. 

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking.  “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely. 

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations. 

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed. 

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed. 

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern. 

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you. 

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna. 

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?” 

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.” 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment. 

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat. 

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back. 

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one. 

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back. 

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart. 

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here. 

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?” 

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala. 

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?” 

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.” 

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes. 

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically. 

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head.  Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell. 

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time. 

“What are you doing here?”  You squint, walking closer. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around. 

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door. 

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors. 

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering. 

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that. 

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket. 

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement. 

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open. 

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart. 

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent.  “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else. 

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile. 

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

 “I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing. 

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.” 

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over. 

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you. 

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship. 

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so. 

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress. 

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad –  I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.” 

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips. 

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.” 

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand. 

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

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[buckyispunk]

Ocean Blue

Aloha Chapter Two ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N)

read Aloha part one here!!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: After a great day of playing football with Bucky and his friends, he plans an excursion for you. However, Bucky might not be as perfect as he seems.

A/N: thank you to everyone who liked, commented on, or reblogged chapter one! I was so so so thrilled with how well the first part did and I'm glad you all enjoyed it!

Warnings: facefucking, exhibitionism (dressing room shenanigans), brief fingering, discussion of unhealthy relationships, mention of cheating, bit of a praise kink, orgasm denial, come eating, dom!Bucky and his filthy mouth, drinking, insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, please lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 8.6k

You feel the heat from the sun’s rays shining on you through the windows before you even open your eyes. You also feel a solid mass under your chest and it isn’t until you open your eyes that you remember the previous night. Bucky is underneath you - still sleeping if his soft snores are anything to go by. You feel your lips turn up into a smile as memories of last night play through your mind. 

His arm is draped over your body, securing you to him. You try to gently pull his arm off you so you can get up, but his bicep flexes as he subconsciously pulls you in closer. As much as you’d like to stay here cuddled up with Bucky all morning, you have to pee. You nuzzle into his chest and begin to pepper kisses across his toned pecs. 

Bucky rustles above you and you hear a soft hum as he wakes.

“Mornin, doll,” he keeps you close to his chest with one arm and raises his other to run through his hair.

You turn to look up at him and he leans down to press his lips to your forehead.

“How’d you sleep?” his morning voice is deep and gravelly. 

“Really good. You?” you hold back a giggle at his tousled hair.

“Amazing, hon.”

“Glad to hear it, Buck. Hate to ruin the moment, but you have to let me up so I can pee.”

“Says who?” he uses both arms to hug you tighter into his chest.

You gently slap his bulging arms and squeal, “Bucky! Let me up!”

Bucky scrunches his face up as if in thought. “Fine, but it’ll cost you. One kiss.”

“Ew, I have morning breath.”

“Don’t care, doll,” he guides your face to his and leans in to take his payment. 

After a couple of seconds, he releases you from his grasp. It isn’t until you’re about to pull the covers off of you that you realize you’re naked. Sure, he saw everything last night, but it’s different in the light of day when you don’t have any alcohol in your system. 

“Um,” your cheeks heat as you sit on the edge of the bed, covers pulled tight around your body, “could you, uh, look away for a minute?”

“Doll, you’re beautiful and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. But if it’ll make you more comfortable then of course I will.”

He rolls over onto his stomach and presses his face into his pillow. You lean over and plant a kiss on his shoulder blade before jumping up and running to the bathroom. You go pee and brush your teeth before grabbing one of soft bathrobes with the resorts logo on the breast and tying it around your waist. When you open the bathroom door, Bucky is standing, pulling on his boxers. 

“Would you wanna go get breakfast with me?” he asks, adjusting the elastic of his underwear.

“That sounds great.” 

Bucky smiles and gathers his clothes from the floor, blush forming across his face as he does so. With an armful of clothes, he turns to look at you.

“I just want you to know, I don’t usually do that. Sleep with girls I just met- I mean. I mean, yeah I’ve done it before,” he begins to ramble, “but like, not often. I just felt like there was something between us and you were just so gorgeous last night, you’re still gorgeous. Shit, I’m so-”

You cut him off with a hand on his bare shoulder before he gets any farther.

“Bucky, it’s okay. I understand what you mean. I don’t normally do stuff like this either.”

“Well, I’m gonna go to my room to put on some different clothes. I’ll come back in a couple of minutes and we can go downstairs?” he starts to pull on his dress pants from last night. He pulls the wrinkled button up over his shoulders, not bothering with the buttons. 

He holds his shoes and belt in one hand as he makes for the door. He opens the door and steps out. You follow him, standing in the doorway. Before you have a chance to say goodbye, you hear a familiar voice coming from over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Nice clothes, Buck!” Sam is walking down the hallway toward the two of you, Steve beside him. “We didn’t hear you come back to your room last night,” Sam continues his teasing.

Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh before turning to face his friends. You’re mortified that they’ve caught you. But at the same time, you want to laugh at the murderous look on Bucky’s face.

“Not another word, Sam,” he goes to hold up his hand, as if in warning, before remembering that his belt is dangling from his fingers, and quickly lowers it, trying too late to hide further evidence.

Sam doubles over laughing, meanwhile Steve stands still as a statue, eyes trained on the ground. He looks almost as embarrassed as you do.

“We were just headed downstairs,” the blond explains.

“Sorry, Barnes,” Sam says your name and nods at you, “I’ll leave you to continue your walk of shame,” he lets out another roaring laugh, slapping Bucky on the shoulder before continuing down the hallway, Steve in tow.

The blond looks up to give you a sheepish smile, “I’m sorry,” he mouths an apology to you.

Once his friends are gone, Bucky turns to you. “I swear to god, I’ll kill him if you want me to,” he says with a straight face.

You laugh at him, “It’s fine, Bucky. He’s just being funny.”

Bucky gives you a thankful smile and leans down and pecks your lips before making his way to his room.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes!” he calls to you.

When Bucky knocks on your room door exactly two minutes later, you’re running a brush through your hair. You had thrown on a pair of shorts and a tank top.

“Just a second!” you call out.

You grab your things and slip a pair of flip flops on before opening the door. Bucky apologizes again for Sam’s bevahior and you tell him not to worry - you enjoy the lighthearted fun. You grab plates and get in line for the buffet.

Bucky piles his plate with so much food that you’re worried it’s about to start falling off. He reaches for the tongs to add bacon to his stack of food.

“There is no way you can fit any more food on that plate,” you look at him in disbelief.

How is he planning on eating that much?

Bucky grins at you before taking the bacon from the tongs and sticking it directly into his mouth, giving you a smirk.

“That better, sweetheart?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes at him and walk to the first empty table you see. Bucky follows behind a minute later with his plate and two cups of orange juice, you’re mildly impressed at his ability to carry it all without spilling anything - like you surely would’ve. But then again, his hand dwarfs the cups of juice, so you suppose that helps. He sits down across from you and sets one of the plastic cups in front of you.

“Thank you,” you tell him after swallowing your bite of food.

“‘Course, doll,” he answers around a mouthful of toast.

You figure it’s just your luck when Brock and Marissa walk into the dining room. Did they eat breakfast at the same time as you every day? You let out a sigh, hoping they don’t see you. You really don’t feel like explaining who Bucky is, Hi, Brock! This is the guy I just met who called me “his girl” when I slept with him last night, isn’t he great?

Bucky turns to follow your eyeline, landing on the couple.

“Is that…” he trails off.

“Yep. Brock and Marissa.”

He looks down and nods, dejected look on his face, “I can leave, if you want,” he offers. “I mean if you don’t want them to see you with me.” How is it that you just met this man, yet it appears he can read your mind?

You would never do that to Bucky, though. He didn’t deserve that. So what if Brock found out? You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You’re a grown woman. You’re single and you decided to have some fun with a man who’s interested in you. It’s not like you’re the only person who’s ever had a one night stand - if that’s what you’d call this, anyway.

“Of course not, Bucky. I don’t care if they see us. Besides, you haven’t even started your cereal or your eggs.” This earns a grin from Bucky.

“Hey, you keep that up and you’re not getting any of my waffles,” he points his finger at you.

Brock and Marissa sit down. You try not to watch them - you really do. But they’re sat right in your line of sight and it makes it hard. Brock eats with one hand and scrolls through his phone with the other. Marissa does the same. 

Bucky notices you watching them and turns to look. Marissa says something to which Brock just gives a noncommittal nod and continues scrolling. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see you with his face buried in his phone.

“Was he like that when you were with him?”

“Yeah. Especially toward the end. It was like he won me over at first by doing all this stuff for me and taking me out on dates. But then after a while he stopped doing all of that. I was lucky to have a conversation with him that lasted more than a couple of minutes.”

Bucky gives you a sad look. “I’m sorry doll. Glad you don’t have to put up with that anymore.” He mutters the next part under his breath so quietly you almost miss it, “Asshole didn’t deserve you.”

“What about you?” 

He looks confused and you realize your question had been rather vague.

“Have you ever had any serious relationships?” you clarify.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Last serious one ended just before I got out of the army. I was on a nine month deployment. The distance was hard. I called her as often as I could, had flowers sent to her. We’d been together for years. Turns out she was cheating on me while I was overseas. Said she was lonely because I wasn’t home. Needed something more, I guess,” he shrugs, “Thought she was the one. Had the ring picked out and everything.”

“Oh my gosh,” your face drops. How could someone do such a thing? He was away serving his country and she had cheated on him? He had even sent her flowers while he was gone - Brock had never once gotten you flowers. “I am so sorry, Bucky. That’s terrible.” You can tell his mood has declined from talking about it and you’re not sure how to console him. 

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” he gives you a forced smile. “Besides, it’s best that I found out when I did. I got all my money back for the ring,” he jokes, but his chuckle doesn’t meet his eyes.

You simply nod in agreement. You and Bucky finish eating in silence, reflecting on the heavy topics the two of you had discussed. Bucky downs the last of his orange juice and, as if nothing had happened, the grin is back on his face. 

“Wanna go to the beach? If you’re not sick of me yet, that is.”

“Don’t think I could ever get sick of you,” you chuckle before realizing what you had just let slip.

You’re not sure what exactly your feelings are for Bucky, but it’s clear that there was an instant connection between the two of you. And last night made it obvious that it’s not just a platonic connection. Regardless, you don’t think you should reveal your cards to Bucky just yet.

He doesn’t need to know that he hasn’t left your mind since you first laid eyes on him across the bar. He doesn’t need to know that he’s made you happier in two days than anyone has in years. He doesn’t need to know that you’re not sure you could go another day for the rest of your life without seeing his blinding smile. But it’s too early to be having these thoughts. So you quickly stand and clear the table before Bucky has a chance to respond. You head to the elevator without another word. Bucky follows you, confused smile on his face. 

Bucky leaves you in front of your room so that you can get changed and, for the second time today, he promises to be back in a couple of minutes. You change into your bikini and put your tanktop and shorts back on over it. It’s been about five minutes and Bucky still hasn’t come back to your room. You decide to take the time to pull out your phone and text Tess, your best friend back home, filling her in on everything that has happened with Bucky and his friends so far. 

After you’ve finished updating Tess, Bucky still hasn’t come back. You wonder for a moment if he had changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t want to hang out with you anymore and this was just his way of getting rid of you. You only let those thoughts cloud your mind briefly before you snap out of it and realize that that was unlikely. He hadn’t shown any indications of wanting to get rid of you - the beach had been his idea. You decide to go to Bucky’s room.

You pad down the hall in your flip flops and stop in front of Bucky’s door. You hesitate for a second before raising your hand and rapping your knuckles against the wood. You hear muffled curses coming from the other side of the door before it opens a second later. 

“Shit, doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky answers the door. He’s still wearing his clothes from breakfast. He returns back into his room, leaving the door open for you to follow. “I can’t find my trunks anywhere.”

You step in and close the door behind you. His room is kind of a mess. There are piles of clothes scattered everywhere and you see why as he crouches down in front of his suitcase and begins throwing clothes out of it, desperately searching for his bathing suit. 

“Whoa, Buck, calm down,” you hold back a laugh at his overly-frustrated state. “It’s just a pair of swim trunks. Did you only bring one pair?” 

A visible heat creeps up Bucky’s cheeks, “Well I didn’t think I was gonna be in the water that much,” he explains. 

“There’s a store down in the lobby, I’m sure they have some if you want to buy another pair.”

Bucky sighs and stands up, giving up on his search. “I’m sorry doll. You can go to the beach now if you want and I can meet you there after I find a new pair.”

“It’s not like I need to spend the entire day at the beach Bucky, we still have plenty of time. Besides, I want to look around for souvenirs.”

“Okay, doll,” he gives you a grateful smile. 

The two of you make your way to the main floor, Bucky still obsessing over his trunks, I just don’t know where they could have gone.

Upon stepping into the resort’s store, you’re met with all sorts of fun souvenirs and brightly colored clothing. Bucky makes his way over to the swim wear section and you wander around, looking for gifts for your parents and Tess. You settle on a mini totem garden sculpture for your parents and a pretty bracelet for your best friend. 

“Hey, doll!” Bucky peeks his head out from behind a dressing room door.

You hadn’t even noticed he’d gone into a dressing room. You make your way over to the stall he’s occupying and raise an eyebrow. “Find a pair of trunks?”

“Wanna come in and see them?” he grins and opens the door for you, but keeps his body hidden behind it. 

“You need my help choosing a pair?” you sigh and step into the dressing room after setting down your gifts.

Bucky closes the door behind you and he’s shirtless, wearing only the pair of swim trunks he’s trying on. You drop your eyes to them and burst out laughing. The trunks say stop staring at my with a picture of a rooster underneath the words, directly over where his junk is. Bucky joins you in laughing. 

“You just had to take your shirt off too, didn’t you?” you tease. Not that you’re complaining about the sight in front of you.

“Well we need to get the full effect so we can tell whether or not we like them,” he justifies, grin never leaving his lips.

“You’re not seriously getting those, are you?”

“Nah. You could follow the advice on them, though.”

“Please, Barnes. Says you,” you remember the way he’d stared at your bikini-clad body yesterday. “Besides, are you telling me you don’t like it?”

You turn to leave the dressing room and are stopped by a hand on your arm. Bucky grabs you and pulls you into a kiss. You deepen the kiss and he begins rutting into you, feeling his bulge rub against you. You know there’s people outside the dressing room. Anyone could overhear you if you or Bucky get too loud. But you don’t care about any of that as you sink to your knees on the dressing room floor. In fact, maybe it spurs you on a little. 

Bucky stares down at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. “Fuck, doll. What are you doing?”

You dip your fingers into the waistband of his boxers beneath the swim trunks, testing the waters. “Want to repay you for last night.”

“Doll, you don’t have to do that. Are you sure?”

You ever so slightly start to pull down the trunks along with his underwear and look up to him for permission before continuing. He gives you a nod, a look of awe spread across his face. You drag them all the way down and let them pool around his ankles before he steps out of them, leaving him fully nude in front of you. 

You’d seen him before, but not up this close. His tip is pink and leaking a drop of precum. He’s barely hard and you’re already wondering how you’ll be able to fit him all down your throat. 

“Stop staring at my cock, doll,” he says quietly as he stares down at you, smirk on his face.

He reaches a hand around to tangle in your hair and gently pulls you closer, dragging his length across your face. The feeling of his heady weight resting on your cheek sends a flood of arousal to your core.

You lick up his hardness until you reach the tip. You place a kiss on his slit, tongue darting out to lap up his precum. 

“I don’t like teasing, sweetheart,” Bucky gives you a warning look.

You take the head into your mouth and begin to lower yourself onto his cock. Bucky’s hand rests in your hair, letting you set your own pace. You begin bobbing up and down on his shaft, taking about half of him into your mouth with each descent. After a couple minutes of letting you control things, Bucky pulls your head off of him and leans down so he’s face to face with you. 

“If it gets to be too much, tap on my thigh two times. I want you to repeat it back to me if you understand.”

“Tap on your thigh twice to stop,” you meet his eyes. They look almost completely black, his pupils blown wide with lust.

He pulls you in for another kiss before rising to his full height. 

“Ready, doll?”

You’re not sure why the thought pops into your head, but you decide to try something out. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Bucky’s face turns to something resembling a scowl as his grip tightens on your hair and he drags you back onto his cock. He pushes you all the way down until you feel him hit the back of your throat. And then he forces himself in even farther. Your face is pressed against his lower abdomen, nose nestled into the dark patch of hair just above his cock. You breath in through your nose, which overflows your senses with his musk.

Bucky releases his hands from your hair, allowing you to take a breath. You gasp for air before reattaching your mouth to his cock, already missing the taste of him. He lets out a quiet groan and holds your head in place as he begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. He buries himself in the back of your throat and you gag around him. 

“Fuck, doll. Love feeling your throat close around me.”

He holds himself there for a few more seconds before giving you a reprieve. 

“Doing so good for me, hon.” He praises, just loud enough so that you can hear him, quiet enough that anyone outside the dressing room wouldn’t be able to. 

He continues using your throat to chase his high. He lets a quiet groan slip every so often, making your pussy clench around nothing each time. He picks up the pace, holding your head still and brutally jamming his length down your throat over and over. You lift a hand to his hairy thigh to brace yourself. 

“Feel so good. My pretty girl.”

You reach a hand into your panties to give your throbbing clit some attention. Bucky notices immediately and grabs your wrist, ripping your hand out of your shorts. 

“Bad girl. Did I say you could do that? Put both your hands behind your back now or you won’t be coming at all today.” He lodges himself into the back of your throat and holds there, cutting off your air flow until you follow his orders. 

You do as he instructed and clasp your hands behind your back.

He pulls out of your throat and looks down at you, expression softening. “You can still tap out if you need to, doll.”

You’re not sure what makes you respond the way you do, but you’re quick to regret it. “Please, you think this is rough?” sarcasm drips from your wrecked voice.

Your response brings the scowl back to Bucky’s face and the hold he takes on your hair makes your scalp sting in the best way. 

“Fuckin’ brat.” He uses your hair to drag you up and down his length, not stopping to give you a break.

He’s focused solely on chasing his own high, enjoying the way you gag around him. When tears begin to run down your face, he swipes them away with his thumb.

“You asked for it, pretty girl,” he gives you a mock look of sympathy, not letting up. “Fuck, I’m getting close. You’re such a dirty little slut letting me fuck your face like this. What if someone overheard us right now?”

Your moan is muffled around his cock, the vibrations making him grit his teeth in pleasure.

“You like that, doll? Want everyone to know what a little slut you are for me? Want them to see you on your knees for me?”

You do your best to nod with his rock-hard length in your mouth. He gives a few more deep thrusts and you feel his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly before he uses your hair to yank you off of him.

“Can I come down your throat, doll? Pump your stomach full of me?”

“Please, Buck,” you manage in a hoarse voice.

Bucky groans and forces himself as far down your throat as he can possibly get and holds there, both of his hands keeping your head in place. You unclasp your hands behind your back and bring one up to massage his balls, sending him over the edge. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and does his best to stay quiet as he shoots rope after rope of his seed down your throat. You feel his warm come trickle down your throat and begin to choke on it. He keeps you in place until his orgasm subsides.

He finally lets you go and you pull off of his length, sputtering and gasping for breath. Bucky kneels down in front of you and holds you to him, calming you. He runs a hand up and down your back and smooths your hair. Once you’ve caught your breath, you lean in for a kiss, which he gladly returns, groaning into your mouth when he gets the briefest taste of himself on your lips.

“You did so fucking good for me, doll,” he whispers into your ear. “Made me feel so good.” He reaches a hand down and slips it into your panties, instantly being met with your wetness. “Fuck, doll. You really liked that, huh?”

“Yes, Bucky. Made me so wet,” you buck your hips up into his touch, hoping he’ll make you come. “Please, Bucky,” you beg, “I was good for you, don’t I deserve a reward?”

“I’ll decide that for myself, doll. I’ll make you come if and when I want to,” he runs a finger through your slick and rubs a few circles over your clit. 

You were already on the brink of orgasming the entire time Bucky was in your mouth, and you’re sure that all you need is a couple more strokes of his calloused fingers to push you over the edge. You’re not surprised that Bucky seems to know this too when he pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I’ll make it worth your while. Give you anything you want tonight, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you pout, although the way he used you to get himself off and left you desperate for release turns you on like nothing ever has before. 

He stands and helps you to your feet. He gets dressed while you use the mirror to fix your disheveled look. When the two of you look normal again, he opens the dressing room door. 

You’re glad to find that the store is almost empty and it appears that no one had heard anything. You pick up the gifts you had selected for your family and Tess and Bucky returns with a new pair of trunks. They’re a solid salmon-pink color.

“Whatcha got there?” he asks, nodding to the trinkets in your hand.

“Some gifts for my family back home. See you found a bathing suit.”

“Well, you didn’t like the last one, so…” he chuckles at you and the two of you make your way to the checkout.

Just before you reach the counter, Bucky calls your name. He’s stopped in front of a display of Hawaiian shirts.

“We should each get one!” the excited look on his face is too cute to deny, so you simply nod and agree. 

You pick one out and Bucky (coincidentally?) selects a matching men’s one. You set your stuff down on the counter and move to pull your wallet out of your bag before Bucky stops you and sets his own stuff down on top of yours. You’re about to argue that he’s not paying for all of your stuff, but he raises his eyebrows and shoots you a warning look.

Don’t you dare try and pull that again, he words from when you had bought dinner last night replay in your mind. You look down at your feet and blush. If it didn’t turn you on so much, you’d be embarrassed at how submissive this man makes you.

He grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to the cashier and sets it on the counter. Bucky pays for everything and hands you the bottle of water while the cashier bags everything up. You’re thankful for the instantaneous soothing the cold water provides as it hits your raw throat. You turn to Bucky and smile, as if to thank him. He sets a hand on your waist and gives you an affectionate smile. 

Bucky takes the bags from the cashier and leads the two of you out of the gift shop.

“I have to go up and change into my trunks. I can set your stuff in your room for you while I’m up there, if you want,” he offers.

You dig your extra key card out of your bag and hand it to Bucky. He disappears behind the elevator doors. Just as you’re about to take a seat, you see Sam and Steve. They catch your eye and make their way over to you. 

Once you see them up close, you notice that Sam’s swim trunks are identical to the ones Bucky had been wearing yesterday.

“Are those Bucky’s swim trunks?” 

“I may have forgotten to pack my own. And Steve wouldn’t let me take his. Bucky wasn’t in his room last night, as I’m sure you know,” he finds his joke hilarious and lets out a laugh, “so I went into his room and took them,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if, by a chain reaction, it hadn’t led to you on your knees for Bucky in a public place just ten minutes ago. 

“Ew, Sam,” your face scrunches up in disgust, “That’s gross.”

“Don’t worry! I’m wearing underwear with them!” 

Steve chooses now to speak up, “As much as I’m sure she’d love to hear about your underwear, Sam,” he tells his friend sarcastically, “where is Bucky?” he turns to you.

“He went upstairs to change into the new trunks he just bought,” you eye Sam, “because he couldn’t find his.”

As if on cue, Bucky appears, wearing his new trunks and the Hawaiian t-shirt he just bought. You notice he’s also holding your new shirt.

“You asshole,” he furrows his brows at Sam, “Are those my trunks? That’s gross, man. I had those on yesterday.” 

“Don’t worry,” you interject, “he’s got underwear on.”

Bucky gives you a confused look, probably wondering how you know that, and you, Steve, and Sam laugh. 

Bucky returns his attention to Sam, “Give me back the key card to my room,” he holds out a hand expectantly.

“Told you, you never should’ve given it to him,” Steve says.

“Hey!” Sam turns on the blonde, “You helped me take all his towels!” He reaches into his - Bucky’s - pockets and hands over a key card.

“Punks,” Bucky mutters, grabbing his room key back.

“Do you guys wanna come to the beach with us?” you offer.

“We actually just left the beach,” Steve answers, “Thanks, though.”

“Good,” Bucky takes your hand and leads you away from his friends, “See you later!” Steve and Sam laugh as Bucky leads you away. 

“Were they bothering you?” he looks over at you.

“No, Bucky, you don’t have to worry so much. Sam made another comment about you not going back to your room last night, but it doesn’t bother me. I like them. I think they’re just trying to embarrass you in front of me.”

“You can say that again,” Bucky mutters. “Oh, hey,” he holds up the shirt you’d forgotten he was holding, “I just thought maybe, um,” you find it adorable that the man who was just fucking your face in a public place now seems so shy, “maybe you could wear your shirt too and we could match.”

“Aw,” you smile up at him and take the shirt, “sure, Buck.” You throw the shirt on over your white tank top. 

You grab two beach towels and stuff them in your bag before stepping out of the resort. You and Bucky make your way to the beach, fingers interlaced. When you pick out a good enough spot, you and Bucky lay out your beach towels and strip down to your swim suits. You make your way to the water’s edge. 

“You comin’ or what?” you throw over your shoulder with a smirk. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he gives you a mischievous grin, “Just enjoying the view.” His eyes flit down to your ass and you scoff.

You do your best to refrain from smiling as you give him a mock-offended look. He makes his way over to you and you splash him with ocean water when he gets close enough. He laughs for a minute but then his expression turns more serious.

“Remember what I said about being good today, doll?” he steps closer to you and leans down to whisper in your ear, water dripping from his hair. “If you wanna come, that is,” he pulls away, smirk upon his lips.

You blush and turn away. The refreshing salt water surrounds you and makes you feel as light as a feather. It’s as if each wave is chipping away at the weight on your shoulders.

You look at Bucky, who’s busy watching a ship in the distance. His blue eyes are the same color as the ocean. He’s got a slight smile on his face and you think that he looks as content as you’ve been feeling ever since you got here. The water comes up to his swim trunks, but leaves you an unblocked view of his abs and pecs. Water droplets run down his sculpted body and you’re suddenly ultra-aware of the fact that your core is in desperate need of attention. 

“Heads up!” you hear a familiar voice call out from behind you.

You turn and before you know what’s happening, Bucky is diving in front of you, landing in the water with a splash. He emerges holding a football. 

“Sam, watch out! You almost hit her!” he scolds his friend, who’s standing in the sand with Steve.

“I was aiming for you, if that makes it better,” he grimaces and apologizes to you.

“Hard to believe you were the best marksman in our troop,” Bucky scoffs and shakes his head.

“Get the ball!” Steve yells before rushing into the water, Sam following behind him.

Steve makes a beeline to Bucky, who starts running in the opposite direction. Bucky loses his footing in the waist-deep water and Steve catches up to him. The large blond dives at Bucky, arms outstretched, and tackles him into the water. Sam isn’t far behind and jumps on top of both of them. You hear curses and gasps for breath as they just about drown each other. You watch, laughing to yourself at the three idiots. 

Steve emerges from the pile, holding the football victoriously over his head. Bucky and Sam steady themselves, catching their breath. Your giggling is cut short when Steve tosses the ball to you. You catch it out of habit and freeze when you see the look on the guys’ faces. 

“Oh, shit,” you mutter.

“Better run, darlin’,” Bucky gives you a boyish grin. 

You turn and do your best to run, smile on your face growing as you surprisingly manage to keep some distance between you and the men chasing you - Bucky leading the pack. A smile spreads across your face, flashbacks of playing football with your cousins on Thanksgiving playing through your mind. One year, one of your cousins had broken his arm - he had landed on it wrong after being tackled. After that, your parents made you stick to playing two-hand tap. 

“Slow pokes,” you tease the boys. 

“Oh, doll,” you look over your shoulder to see Bucky gaining on you, “you know I was letting you get away, right?”

You let out a shriek as you suddenly feel Bucky’s hands on your hips. Your grip tightens on the ball as his long fingers easily span your waist.

“Sorry, babe, part of the game,” he gives you a look of false sympathy before wrapping his arms around your hips and gently tackling you into the water.

You can tell he’s trying hard to control himself, making sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Bucky lets go of you quickly, letting you stand from the water just as fast as you went under. 

“That’s okay, Barnes,” you give him a cocky grin, “I still got the ball,” you wave it in your hand.

He gives you a smile and holds your chin up with his hand. He leans down and connects his lips to yours. You don’t even have a chance to worry about whether or not anyone is witnessing his display of PDA because he’s suddenly ripped away from you. 

Bucky lets out a loud oomph as Sam’s shoulder collides with his torso, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Bucky is surprised by the attack, but manages to overpower Sam rather quickly as you and Steve watch in amusement. Bucky gets Sam in a headlock and you can’t help but stare at the way his bicep bulges as he flexes it. You feel a pulse in your core when you think about Bucky’s arm wrapped around your own neck like that. 

“Say I’m the best,” Bucky taunts.

“Dick,” Sam struggles in Bucky’s grasp, but his efforts are futile. 

“Come on, punk,” Bucky chuckles. 

“Fine,” Sam admits defeat. “You’re the best.”

Bucky drops his arm and Sam stands, muttering curses.

Bucky makes his way over to you and plucks the ball from your fingers.

“Thought you guys weren’t gonna come,” he tosses the ball back and forth between his hands.

“We got bored,” Steve shrugs. “Why? Did we interrupt something?” he teases.

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically and roll your eyes.

The next couple of hours are spent playing football - you get revenge on Bucky with your own tackle - and talking with your new friends. At one point when Sam is arguing with Steve and Bucky about whether you’re currently in the pacific or the atlantic ocean - Steve and Bucky are right - you decide to take a break from the water and lay on the beach to tan.

You straighten out your towel and lay back on your elbows. You find that you can’t take your eyes off of Bucky. You smile to yourself as you watch his brows furrow in utter disbelief and frustration at his friend - you idiot, do you know anything about geography?.

You’ve only known Bucky for three days and you’re scared of how strong your feelings are for him. Maybe it’s the fact that he makes you feel safe, maybe it’s the way he listens so intently anytime you talk, maybe it’s the way he and his friends have gladly taken you in when you were desperate for companionship, and maybe it’s just the amazing sex, but something has you falling nearly head over heels for this man you hardly know. And that scares you. You haven’t felt anything like this since Brock - and even that had been different. You really hope Bucky feels the same at least a little bit.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky’s honeyed comes from above you.

“Hey, Buck,” you look up at him, lifting your hand to block the sun.

He gives you an affectionate smile and chuckles at your squinted expression.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, “you said you wanted to go snorkeling. I thought maybe we could go together? I called this place nearby earlier and they’ve got room for us both today.”

Your eyes widen in excitement, “Oh my gosh, Bucky!” you revel in the grin your squeal draws from him. “That sounds perfect!”

“Okay, cool,” Bucky offers you a hand to help you up. “You wanna go grab a little something to eat before we head out?”

You nod and take his hand. The two of you get dressed and pack up your stuff. You say goodbye to Steve and Sam and leave them on the beach as you make your way back to the resort with Bucky, his arm slung over your shoulder. You and Bucky grab a small snack from the store in the resort, not wanting to fill up before snorkeling. Bucky arranges for a taxi and when it arrives, he opens the door for you and climbs in next to you. 

Once you reach the snorkeling place, a little hut on the beach, Bucky leads you inside. He makes his way to the counter and gives the worker his name. You feel a twinge of guilt when he reaches for his wallet to pay for the both of you. You tug on his arm and look up to him hesitantly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he places a kiss on your forehead before turning back to the receptionist. 

The woman at the counter gives you and Bucky an overview of what will happen - you will go out back to the dock and get your gear while you wait for the rest of the people in your group to show up before boarding the boat. 

Bucky thanks the lady and guides you outside with a hand on your lower back. You’re greeted by a couple of guys who look like they could be younger than you. They get you and Bucky situated with a snorkel, mask, and fins. You and Bucky put your clothes in your bag, leaving you clad in swimwear, before putting the bag in a locker for safe keeping. 

Eventually, the rest of your group shows up - a married couple and their two children - and the workers hand out their gear. Once everyone is ready, they board everyone onto the boat and wave goodbye, returning to the deck as the captain makes his way over to greet you.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the man smiles brightly. “My name is Koa and I will be your guide today.” He goes over the rules and procedures for the trip.

After his run down, he unties the boat from the dock and makes his way to the captain’s chair. You and Bucky take a seat on one of the padded benches on the side of the boat and he places a hand on your thigh. You take in the gorgeous scenery as the boat’s motor hums and takes you into the clear, blue water. After about five minutes, the boat stops and Koa drops the anchor. 

You’re not far away from shore, the water is calm and shallow. Koa reminds everyone of the rules and makes sure they know how to properly use their gear. He tells you about the marine life you’ll see and points out what you should keep an eye out for.

“You guys are all set to explore,” he tells the group, “I’ll be here watching you guys if you need me. And remember, don’t stray too far from the boat.”

With that, everyone stands from their seats. The kids excitedly clamber down the ladder into the water, their mom rushing behind them yelling for them to slow down. The dad follows behind, shaking his head and smiling. Bucky goes in front of you and makes his way into the water. Once in, he reaches a hand out to hold your waist, steadying you as you climb down. 

For the most part, you and Bucky stay on one side of the boat and the family stays on the other. You see a lot of colorful fish and excitedly jab Bucky’s side to get his attention when you see a pufferfish. You swim around the area, staying close to Bucky most of the time. You make sure to keep near the boat and you ask Koa questions about the fish every so often. Once everyone has finished looking around the area and observing the wildlife, Koa calls everyone to climb back on so you can head toward the next snorkeling area. 

Once back on the boat, the kids excitedly chatter nonstop, jumping up and down as they talk about all the things they saw. You notice Bucky’s small smirk as he watches the children. He looks over to you and his face visibly heats when he notices he’d been caught. You use your thumb to wipe away a drop of water running down the side of his face. Bucky gently takes your hand and presses a kiss to it before holding it between his own in his lap. Thankfully, he turns to look into the water, so he doesn’t see the smile you subconsciously let spread across your lips at the feeling of your hand in his own. 

Koa anchors the boat near a coral reef when the boat stops for the second time. He explains that Hawaiian coral reefs house thousands of different kinds of creatures and algae.

“The water is deeper here,” he warns, “and we must be careful not to disturb the coral. We cannot get too close to the reefs, so I ask that you view them from a distance of several feet.” 

After his speech, everyone makes their way into the water again. The brief chill the water provides is a welcomed reprieve from the blazing sun, though you couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather. Bucky makes his way toward the reef and you follow him. You and Bucky swim around and observe the reef in awe, watching the way the plants flow with the water and seeing all the invertebrates crawl around in the sand. 

When you come back to the surface, you make conversation with the little kids as you wait for Bucky to finish exploring.

When Bucky emerges from the water, he shouts over to you and the rest of the group, “Hey guys, there’s a sea turtle over here!”

The kids scramble to swim over to where Bucky’s pointing, you and their parents following behind. Bucky warns the kids not to get too close so that they don’t scare the turtle away. Koa tells the group that Hawaiian sea turtles can weigh as much as 500 pounds. After everyone has seen the turtle, thankfully it didn’t get scared off, you all clamber back onto the boat.

“The snorkeling part of the tour is over, but I’ll continue the boat tour before we make our way back to shore,” Koa informs everyone.

You and Bucky get settled in on the bench, sitting opposite the rest of the group. He puts his arm around your shoulders and holds you into him. Koa tells you different fun facts about the island and the wild life. He takes you past different coves and beaches, laughing at his own terrible dad jokes frequently.

“This is stunning,” you almost whisper as you pass ginormous mountains and lush trees. 

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky replies, “It is.”

You turn to find him already looking at you. He places a finger under your chin and presses a kiss to your lips. You smile at him before returning your attention to the majestic blue of the ocean and realize that it’s the same color as Bucky’s eyes. 

All too soon, Koa is docking the boat and wishing everyone an amazing rest of their vacation. Once you and Bucky are off the boat, you grab your bag and dry off before getting dressed. Bucky calls for a taxi and soon enough you’re back at the hotel. Bucky walks you to your room.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower real quick,” you tell Bucky. “Would you- um, would you wanna join me?” you’re feeling bold, possibly because you’re still feeling the effects of what happened in the dressing room and you’re desperate for some release. 

Bucky must be able to tell how horny you are because he gives you a knowing grin, “Doll, I would love to, but I promised Sam and Steve that I would meet them at the bar after we got done,” he gives you a sad smile, “Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, but I want to make sure I’m still hanging out with them, you know?”

“Oh my gosh, Bucky, yeah. I’m sorry, you’re totally right.”

“Hey, darling,” Bucky makes eye contact with you, “Don’t apologize. If it was up to me I’d spend the rest of my vacation with just you. But hey, how about you come find us at the bar after your shower?”

“Deal. Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, though,” you challenge.

“Doll, you know that’s not happening.” Bucky leans down until his mouth is level with your ear, “And don’t think about touching that pretty little pussy of yours if you want me to reward you tonight.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden warning. Bucky gives you a cocky grin in response to your reddened face. 

“Come down when you’re done, and leave your wallet,” with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you flustered and horny. 

You try not to think about the way that Bucky had eaten you out like a starving man last night and how he had used you to chase his own release earlier while you take a cold shower. You put on some shorts and your new Hawaiian shirt before making your way downstairs.

When you step outside, you glance around the bar area, searching for Bucky and his friends. You see Steve and Sam talking to each other at one end of the bar, but Bucky isn’t with them. After another scan, you find him. He’s leaning up against the bar with his back to you, but he’s not by his friends. He’s next to a gorgeous woman in a bikini. You falter for a second when you see Bucky turn to her, talking with a smile on his face. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation. You stop in your tracks when Bucky buys a beer and hands it to the woman. He laughs at something she said and you turn away. 

What the fuck?

It’s not like you two were exlcusive or anything, hell you’d only known each other for two days. You probably don’t have any right to feel jealous, but regardless, you feel a pang in your gut. His dick had just been in your mouth hours ago and now he’s buying drinks for someone who could be a supermodel?

You hold back your tears as you make your way back inside, heading for the indoor bar.

How could you be so stupid. Of course the connection wasn’t real. He was just using you to get his dick wet, and you had let him. 

You take a seat at the bar and order a double shot of whiskey, good thing you did end up bringing your wallet. You mentally scold yourself for believing there was ever a connection between you and Bucky as you down your drink. You order a second one and think about what you’ll do if he tries to talk to you again. If he tries to fuck you again. You won’t let him back in your pants, that’s for sure. You wonder if he’s looking at that woman like she’s the most important thing in the world, the way he had looked at you.

You don’t understand how guys manage to put on such a convincing gentleman act just to get laid. He had you fooled with his I don’t usually do this speech this morning. Part of you wants to believe that he hadn’t bought you stuff and opened doors for you just to get you to sleep with him, but you know better deep down. Why would anyone be interested in you like that? Brock had made it clear that you weren’t anything worth holding on to. You sometimes wish you aren’t as trusting as you are, it’s not the first time you’ve been hurt because of it.

You down the second drink and resign yourself to spending the next three days alone before heading home. You’ve got plenty of experience with being alone, though.

part three!

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) - @vicmc624 @distancedss @kandis-mom @cakesandtom @buckbuckybuckaroo @volleyballgirl2022 @sapphirebarnes @xobabygirl143 @sarah1barnes @ladyacrasia @charmedbysarge

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a bit of drunk!reader and drunk!eddie, a lil angst

summary: steve is by your side at a last minute party 

CHAPTER FIVE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔❞

Fall Semester 2015

Would either of us even remember any of this tomorrow? 

The music was too loud to outwardly verbalize that question, and it was forgotten after a second too, which probably only proved it to be true. 

Instead, your mind shifted into thinking about what led you and Eddie to this current moment— a last-second canceled date, your abrupt suggestion to go to a frat party to celebrate the end of finals and also to cheer Eddie up, and his immediate yes. 

The two of you drank cup after cup of some random mix of God knows what. It tasted absolutely horrible but it did its job— barely an hour into being at the party and you were effectively drunk, and so was Eddie; maybe even more than you. You had a feeling that had something to do with Chrissy and her canceling their date.

The number of people crammed into the house was probably a fire hazard at this point and it was starting to feel way too hot.

You were leaning back against a wall, because it was the only thing keeping you steady, and Eddie was in front of you. “We should leave.” 

The music blasting through the speakers in the huge living room was so loud that you could barely even hear the words leave your mouth. 

Eddie heard something, though, or attempted to read your lips in the shitty lighting, because he was shaking his head. “No, we should leave.”

You could only laugh in response at first. 

“That’s what I said,” You told him, that time making your voice louder, matching his.

“Oh,” He said and smiled, a perfect drunken smile that made you smile back at him. 

You wondered what he thought you had just said and you were about to ask him exactly that, but then someone was bumping into him from behind, which pushed him much closer to you, and the thought of saying anything was pushed away. His hands instinctively found your hips to steady himself as he let out a breath of a laugh and didn’t immediately step back away from you.  

There was no reason for you to lean in a little more, but you did. It was an impulsive decision that was made solely by your heart because your head was in an entirely different place. Your thoughts were cloudy and all rational thinking was tossed to the side. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, this actually felt like the right thing to do. And even if your best friend would’ve rejected you in that moment— pulled away and said that this wasn’t at all a good idea— you probably wouldn’t have been too fazed about it right then. 

But, Eddie wasn't pulling away. Instead, he was meeting you halfway and closing the final bit of space between you two. You didn’t even have time to be surprised about it before his lips were on yours and your already muddled mind became even more blank. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

“If either of you would like to suddenly become really good at Physics and explain this velocity formula to me, that would be awesome.”  

You looked up from the book you were reading, a biography about a random British author from the 1800s that was assigned for one of your classes, when you heard Robin’s words.

She pushed the textbook she had opened over to your and Eddie’s side of the table that the three of you were sitting at in the library.

Everything you learned in your high school Physics class had pretty much went in one ear and out the other, so looking at what she was pointing at in her textbook unsurprisingly made no sense to you. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Eddie took the quickest look at the opened page and shook his head before sliding the textbook back over to her. “I still don’t get why you decided to take that class.” 

“I have to finally get a science course out of the way and this was the only one available this semester,” Robin quickly explained and then sighed. “I truly, truly regret it now.”

She took another look at the page before simply closing the textbook and picking up her phone.

When you all studied or decided to collectively work on your respective assignments together it was always agreed that the first floor of the library was the perfect place to do it because of the idea that being in a library meant that you were being more productive. But, that really was just an idea because the first floor of the library was a free-for-all all for noise and you guys never went to any other floor, so your “study nights” almost always turned into you rarely doing any actual studying after the first hour. 

“Oh, anyway, look at this video I took of you and Steve during game night,” Robin abruptly said and handed her phone over to you. “I meant to show you yesterday, but it completely slipped my mind.” 

It was during the Mario Kart tournament; you were quickly able to tell that because the video started with the camera focused on the TV screen when you were seconds away from getting in first place for the final race. The camera turned to you and Steve sitting next to each other on the small loveseat when you won; you smiling in victory and him pulling you in for a celebratory hug and pressing a kiss against your cheek. You were glad to see that in the video you actually couldn’t tell how, even though the entire night you had tried your hardest to make everything seem believable and comfortable between you two, in that moment you were inwardly tensing up because of how unexpected the action was.

“The fanfare makes a lot of sense. That was the only game we won that night,” You said once the video ended and you passed the phone back over to Robin.

“I actually like him,” She told you with a smile. “I vote to keep bringing him around.” 

Eddie nodded. “Sure, keep bringing him around, but I need you back on my team for game night. We’re always killer at charades.” 

“Yeah, if you guys are a team again you won’t cheat at charades like you and Talia did,” Robin said. 

“That never happened,” He immediately responded, which made Robin roll her eyes and you only laughed. 

Your phone began vibrating on the table right as Eddie shifted the conversation and went into talking about band stuff; a gig that he and the guys had on Friday at a bar across town. 

Steve’s name popped up on your screen and when Robin noticed she let out a laugh. “Woah, did I kinda accidentally manifest him?” 

“Now you should try to manifest a good grade on your Physics test,” Eddie joked.

“Good idea!”

You grabbed your phone and then stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

You headed down a random empty aisle and then answered the call. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Steve started. “So I told my parents about us and they want to meet you, so a dinner is set up for Sunday.” 

You took a second to process everything he had just said— which wasn’t a lot but it also kind of was— and then you were nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “Oh. Oh, wow, okay.”

“I can change it to a different day if Sunday’s not good.” 

“No, Sunday’s fine,” You told him, which was technically true because you had nothing going on that night, but you didn’t expect this to happen so fast so things didn’t feel entirely fine. Even though the quickness made a lot of sense because things were meant to happen fast— you and Steve were only doing this whole fake dating thing for a month. “Just please tell me it’s not gonna be at some way too fancy restaurant.”

“No, don’t worry, I convinced them to just do it at the house,” He said, which placated your worries just for a second, but then you weren't sure if meeting his family in his childhood home sounded much better either. However, it was only Wednesday, and you were quickly telling yourself not to stress about any of this until, at least, Friday.

“Okay,” You said instead of anything else. 

Things were quiet for a second and you were half-reading some of the spines of the books on the shelf in front of you before mindlessly speaking. 

“So, how’s your week been so far?”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

Both your and Steve’s words were said at the same time and then after the briefest of pauses with neither of you saying anything, it was as if you both wanted to immediately follow up and respond to each other. But as he was responding with, “Oh, it’s been good so far,” you were saying, “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Another beat of silence hit and you kind of just wanted to end the call right there, but you stopped yourself. You hadn’t talked to him since game night and you were still trying to figure out what the dynamic between you two was aside from fake dating each other, and you were starting to think that maybe there really was nothing else to it. And maybe these kinds of moments only proved that. 

“How’s your week been?” Steve asked, and you were a little surprised that he actually wasn’t trying to end the conversation, and you honestly didn’t mind the mundane question being tossed onto you. 

“Good,” You answered, leaning back against the shelf behind you, and then started rambling a bit. “I had a test yesterday, which went fine, and Wednesdays are usually easy for me because that’s my least busy day so it’s been good so far too.”

“Nice.”

“Also, you got rave reviews from everyone after game night, by the way,” You said and then shook your head at yourself. “I don’t know why I randomly decided to mention that, but yeah.”

“I told you that I’m good at making people like me.”

“Even though that’s actually true, there’s something about you saying that statement that makes me want to hit you.” 

“Wow, ouch,” Steve said, but you could also hear him laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna hang up now.” 

“See you Sunday,” You responded. “We can talk about it more later.” 

“Yeah, see you Sunday.” 

You hung up then and pocketed your phone in the back of your jeans as you headed back over to Robin and Eddie. 

Robin looked up at you. “Are you ditching us to go hang with Steve?” 

“No,” You answered, shaking your head and sitting back in your seat next to Eddie. “He just called to ask about doing something Sunday, so I’m seeing him then.”

There was no way that you were going to explain further and tell them that you were actually going to be meeting Steve’s parents; you knew exactly how insane it would sound if you did. 

“Okay, good because we need your vote.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“For what we should do tonight. Should we be boring and rot away on the couch, like we almost always do, or go to a party that Vickie just texted about that one of her Art major friends is throwing?” 

“It’s a Wednesday and you have a test tomorrow,” You reminded her.

“Yes, but this would be fun.”

“I think rotting away on the couch would be very fun too.”

Robin groaned at your words and Eddie smiled at you.

“Thank you for agreeing,” He said.

“Okay, don’t get too happy yet,” Robin said to both of you. “Talia still has to vote and now she’s the tiebreaker.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Apparently, this night was one of the rare moments where Talia was in the mood for a party, so you and Eddie were ultimately outvoted and by nine o’clock, you all were headed to a house that was on a completely different side of town. 

Robin and Vickie broke off from the group pretty much immediately, and Talia was pulled into a conversation with someone she knew from a class, and you and Eddie were left with each other; which was something that happened more often than not. You two usually always stuck together at parties, and then after the Chrissy breakup, that became even more of an always thing. 

This night, you first both grabbed a drink and then walked around the small and too-packed house before settling in a random spot. After an hour, you wouldn’t say that you were drunk, but you definitely were comfortably tipsy, and that made the game that you and Eddie were playing ten times better; which was a weird mix between rock, paper, scissors and a staring contest. It was entirely childish and dumb and barely made sense, but what else was there to do? 

“I still don’t fully understand the rules of this game,” Eddie said, laughing a bit. 

You nodded, laughing too. “Me neither, but I’m pretty sure I’m winning, though.” 

“Okay, I don’t think that’s true.” 

You could tell he was about to say something else but then his gaze was focusing on someone behind you who he waved at after a moment. You turned around and saw Steve maneuvering through the crowd and walking over to you and Eddie.

It was Robin's idea for you to ask Steve to come to the party; although it probably should’ve been yours because it was a perfect opportunity to play up your “relationship.” However, you did tell him that you knew exactly how short notice this party invite was, so if he didn’t want to come, you’d be completely okay with it. But, he said that he had no problem with coming and turning on the fake dating charm for the night. His exact words were, “If you’re going to have to suffer through a dinner with my parents, I can easily go to a party for you,” which didn’t help ease any of your worries about what Sunday would be like, but, at least, he was coming tonight. 

“Hey,” Steve said, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

You were suddenly glad for your slight tipsiness because it actually made it feel easy to lean into Steve’s touch and feel entirely okay about him kissing you. 

“Hi,” You looked up at him. “We’re currently in the middle of playing a game that doesn’t make any sense, but I’m winning.”

Eddie shook his head, laughing a little. “She’s definitely not winning. If anything, we’re tied.”

“If it makes you feel better to say that, fine,” You said with a shrug and only laughed when he rolled his eyes at you. 

“Can I know the rules of the game?” Steve asked. 

“It’s basically a mix between rock, paper, scissors and a staring contest,” Eddie started explaining and then stopped abruptly. “Hold on, Talia’s giving the signal. I’ll go help her out.” 

You nodded at his words as you looked at Talia and saw that she was, in fact, doing the very subtle wave in your guys’ direction. 

“Signal?” Steve asked you as Eddie walked away. He dropped his arm from your shoulders and went to simply holding your hand instead. 

“Talia is always hardcore flirted with at parties like this— Art majors are always so obsessed with her “vibe” for some reason. So we swoop in whenever she wants to get out of a conversation. It’s also something we all do, if needed,” You briefly explained. You looked over at her again and saw Eddie jumping into the conversation that she was having with some random guy. You had no idea what Eddie was saying, but he was moving his arms around excitedly, which made you smile. He always did something similar to that when saving someone from a conversation; an attempt to scare the random person away with his overdramatic antics. 

“Your friend group is so interesting,” Steve said and when you looked back at him, you noticed the amused smile on his face. “Also, you’re surprisingly chill right now. How much did you drink?”

“Only two cups of whatever punch was in the kitchen,” You answered, remembering just how bad it had tasted. “Did you just get here? I almost thought you weren’t coming anymore.”

“Yeah, the drive took a lot longer than I thought it would,” He said and you nodded. “I texted you.”

“Oh, I think my phone’s dead,” You responded, pulling it out of your jacket pocket to check, but it slipped out of your hand and hit the ground instead. You immediately reached down to grab it, and as you stood back up, you got hit with a wave of dizziness. “Woah, shit.”

Steve was grabbing your arm to steady you when you stumbled a bit. “I thought you said you only had two drinks.”

“Yeah, I did. I just stood back up too fast and got a little dizzy.”

“You wanna go outside for a second?” He asked, and suddenly the thought of getting some fresh air sounded really good to you. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

His hand found yours again and he led you to the backyard. There was nothing in the small yard aside from a rusty old lawn chair that was sitting under a tree in the farthest part of the backyard, but it was luckily just long enough to fit both of you.

“Be honest,” You started, turning to look at Steve. “How bad is Sunday night gonna be?”

He was quiet for a second and then shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

“Oh, God. I’ll take that as very bad.” 

He bypassed your statement. “You want me to go grab you some water or something?”

“Nice job at changing the subject. I’m okay, though,” You said. “Do you want me to get you something? I can also be a chivalrous and considerate fake girlfriend.”

Steve laughed a little. “No, I’m fine.”

You noticed the sliding doors that led to the backyard open and then saw Eddie walk out. You let your hand slowly find Steve’s and then you pushed yourself closer to him, closing the final bit of distance between you two on the patio chair. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you realized how weird your previous actions probably seemed out of context. 

“Yeah, it’s just that Eddie’s walking over to us right now, so we should play it up,” You said and then gave Eddie a quick wave with your free hand.

“Oh, smart,” Steve said, seeing him and waving too. “You’re getting good at this.” 

You smiled at him. “I learned from the best serial dater.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” 

“You should,” You told him and then proceeded to say something that would’ve probably taken a lot more courage to say if you weren’t tipsy. “I wish I was more like you, I think. I wish I didn’t care about relationships and feelings because if I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with one of the most important people in my life.” 

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve said, making his voice lower because Eddie was only a few feet away. 

You didn’t get the chance to think about saying anything in response to that before your best friend was standing in front of you and Steve.

“Hey,” Eddie started, eyes on you. “Talia wants to leave, so I’m gonna head out with her too. Do you wanna come with us or are you staying?”

Any other time, the answer would’ve been an obvious yes— in fact, he wouldn’t have even asked the question because he already knew your answer— you’d always leave with him. But this case was different because of Steve sitting right next to you, and a girl that “really liked a guy” would stay at a party with him, right? Your slightly inebriated brain was assuming the answer was yes.

“Staying with Steve,” You ultimately answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.”

“Okay,” He said to you with a nod, and then looked at Steve. “Get her home safe, Harrington.” 

It was such a subtle statement, but it still warmed your heart all the same. 

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

Eddie looked at you one more time, giving you a final small smile which you returned before heading off. 

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve told you again, and that time, you felt a little bit closer to believing him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 24- An Alexander-Arnold Angel | ‘Ours’

word count - 11 k

“Can you tell me what that is, baby?” You cooed, bouncing Teddy on your knee pointing outside through the big window. You were sat in a lounge at the airport waiting to board your flight to the United States for your wedding. Trent had gotten a private jet to take you to New York. He figured if you had ever taken an important trip it would be this one so flying private seemed like the thing to do. 

“Aib pla!” Teddy yelled the jumbled words. You giggled and shushed her loud outburst. You pulled her by her pudgy tummy back into you more. You leaned around her and kissed her chubby cheek. 

“Yeah, Ted. That’s an airplane. You’re so smart. Do you like going on planes, baby bear?” Trent asked Teddy, sharing the same laugh you did hearing her excitedly squeal in a fairly quiet room. She shrugged, not sure if she did or maybe she didn’t understand his question. To her credit the last time she flew, she probably didn’t even remember the experience all that well. You wondered how good her memory was and if she would remember going to New York at all. 

“I think you do. You’re such a good flyer, baby. Do you know where we’re going?”  You picked up her hands and tried to wipe them clean from the yogurt she had been eating. It seemed to have gotten just about everywhere but in her mouth. 

“Pop pops.” She murmured out to you now deciding that after her snack and all the questions she was tired and needed a cuddle. She was referring to your dad. That’s what you had landed on calling him. You wiped her hands and pulled her into your arms situating her on your chest. 

“Yeah, we’re going to see pop pop, mum mum, Laur, and Win Win too. Aren’t you so excited?” You asked her. Trent was listening to your conversation and ran his hand over her hair before kissing her head. 

“Ted, do you know what else we’re going to do?” Trent asked Teddy cupping her cheek and turning her head a little for her to look at him.

“Nos dada.” She sleepily cooed trying to wrangle away and get her face back to its place tucked into the nape of your neck. 

“Me and mummy are going to get married. Give mummy a big kiss like this…Mwah!” Trent messed about pulling your face into his, kissing your lips dramatically with the ‘mwah’ sound Teddy still loved. She giggled with a ‘dada’ grabbing for him and pushing her lips out for a kiss of her own from him. “Going to have a big party as well. You can wear your pretty dress like mummy too. Will you dance with daddy?” He asked her with a smiley pout seeing how tired she was. He was hoping that he could make her happy by asking her a silly question and bringing up the dress she had been really excited to wear. 

“Is dada even going to dance?” Your brow furrowed with a smirk mocking Trent’s usual indifference for dancing. He rolled his eyes at your smart remark. You giggled a little. Trent didn’t like to dance. He’d do it for you though. He’d hold you tight to him and whisper in your ear. Frankly, you liked the way he did dance. It was always a heated moment and typically turned fairly intimate following. Opposing that, you thought him dancing with Teddy would be the cutest thing in the world so you didn’t mean to tease too much. 

“Yeah, well I want to dance with my Ted. Maybe I don’t want to dance with you.” He quipped with a bit of bite and a devilish smirk. Teddy giggled, bringing herself more upright to grab his face with her tiny hands again.

“Aww that makes me sad. Please daddy.” You whined while you dramatically pouted at him. You had a short first dance planned but it was more of an intimate thing for the wedding day. The idea of your two favorite people sharing a dance as well was precious. He rolled his eyes and kissed you before returning his attention to your daughter. 

You still had a bit of time before you boarded so you plopped Teddy on the ground with a piece of paper and some crayons to color. You leaned back and got comfortable. Trent moved over to the seat directly next to you on a couch. The cushion sank as he shifted closer. He moved his hand and placed his fingers under your chin to turn you to face him. He kissed your lips but was quick to pull away to lean down to Teddy to ask her what she was coloring. You frowned at him though wishing he gave you a longer kiss. He flicked his eyes back up to you and flashed you a smug grin with a wink. 

“Baby bear, what are you drawing?” He asked Teddy, as she furiously scribbled with a blue crayon. Just a bunch of swirls and circley shapes.

“Doggies!” She told him very seriously focused on her paper. She stuck her tongue out into the corner of her mouth like Trent did when he concentrated. Trent hummed inspecting her work with a little laugh. A little while and a couple scribbles of dogs later, you needed to board. 

“Good girl! Look how nicely you did! Can you pack up your  crayons for me, Teddy girl?” You cooed getting your own things packed up. She very carefully put each crayon back in its original place. Trent stood above her patiently letting her do it as she liked.  A very clear sign that she was maybe inheriting some of your predisposed organization. Trent gave you a smug grin and cheeky laugh seeing your daughter’s resemblance to you shine through. 

“Can I give you a kiss, beautiful?” Trent asked, holding your hand on the tarmac before you boarded the plane. You giggled and squeezed his hand. 

“You don’t have to ask.” You turned towards him, moving your lips towards his.  He laughed and his smile almost made you stutter. It made even the gray cold summer weather in the summer in England feel like it was bright sun. 

“I gotta ask, don’t I? Consent is what good guys do, no? I want you to marry me in a couple days. I’m trying to not mess up.” He cooed with a smirk. You shook your head. 

“Can you just kiss me? Now I’ve been waiting too long.” You complained. He gave you a devastating grin. He pressed his lips to yours and you shut your eyes in bliss. You boarded the flight and settled in a seat with Teddy while Trent brought your carry ons aboard. You scrolled through your phone calendar before the plane took off. You flicked through your packed schedule for the next few days and then just jumped ahead for a little to check the exact date of when you needed to schedule your next nail appointment for ahead of your flight for your honeymoon and then the exact date that Trent was scheduled to leave for preseason. It was a little crazy that he’d be leaving for preseason as your husband, he’d be leaving you as his wife, it was just a little unfortunate that date was as soon as it was. 

“You know I heard there is going to be a very good looking boy at Liverpool’s preseason this year.” You cooed cheekily, picking up your gaze from your phone and to Trent finally taking his seat. 

“Oh yeah?” Trent sent a smirk your way and your heart faltered but you were trying to flirt a little. 

“I think his name is Trent Alexander-Arnold.” You giggled with a little smile as your lips turned at the corners looking back at him. “Heard he’s sexy, cute too.” 

“That’s me, baby.” He laughed with a wink. “Sorry to disappoint though but I’m engaged, getting married in a few days as well.” You pouted at him and whispered a curse. “I’m all hers, most beautiful fiance.” He reflected your pout back to you. You giggled at how childish this whole conversation was. “Now can my beautiful fiance let me give her a kiss now?” He laughed with you. He took your cheek in his palm. You nodded to him, fixing your gaze on his eyes.  He kissed you and it was perfection. You felt the world slow. Everytime his lips were on yours as dramatic as it sounds the world just melted away. He felt like heaven each and every time. 

“Do you know where we are? We’re where mummy used to live.” You cooed to a sleepy Teddy in the car from the airport to your apartment in Manhattan. She was fairly confused by your question. “When I was a little girl like you, Teddy bear. I didn’t even know daddy yet.” You giggled smushing a kiss to her cheek. 

“No dada?” She asked you with her big eyes narrowing at you. You told her no. You were referring to your childhood but she didn’t seem too interested if her dad wasn’t involved. “Why mama? Lub dada.” She gave you a disgruntled disapproving face. She didn’t like the idea of you without Trent.

“I know. I love daddy as well. I just hadn’t met him yet. Not until I was a big girl.” You cooed looking at her progressively more unhappy face in her car seat. 

“Dada best. Why mama?” She looked so angry at you. You couldn’t believe how similar her angry scowl looked like Trent’s. You were trying to bite back the smile. 

“I think he’s the best too. That’s why we had you, cute girl. Why are you mad at me right now?” You laughed, a little taken aback that she was so annoyed.  

“Ted, why are you mad at mummy?” Trent asked, trying not to laugh as well. He was smiling though. He brushed his thumb over her pout in an effort to wipe it off. It didn’t work. She stayed steadfast. 

“My dada best!” She yelped moving towards Trent in her seat away from your direction. Your eyes widened that she was taking this so personally. 

“Teddy, I couldn’t have known dada. We lived in different countries. What do you want me to do? I’ve known him longer than you have!” You teased squeezing her arm. She scowled at you, incredibly offended by your remark. 

“No! Know dada long.” She rebutted very quickly with some real vigor. 

“Yeah but not as long as mummy has.” You cooed initially with some humor in your tone. Tears began to well though in her puppy dog eyes.  “Okay, okay. Come here. You’re right, baby. You’ve known daddy the longest, yeah? You and I love him the most. Daddy’s the best.” You pouted at Teddy  helping her out of her car seat into your lap. 

“Daddy is the best and mummy should’ve met him earlier.” Trent quipped. Teddy let out a snarky ‘yeah.’ Trent laughed giving her a gentle kiss on her identical pout. He wiped a few of her tears that had fallen. 

“Okay… that’s not helpful. Thank you, T.” You gave him a glare. Him fueling her anger at you for the impossible, not meeting her soon wasn’t helping. When you finally arrived at your New York apartment, Teddy was fast asleep, her annoyance at you evaporated. Trent and you tried your best to be quiet and get her inside without waking her.

You had a few days before the first event to make sure everything was good to go and get a few beauty appointments sorted. One thing you really needed to get sorted was your raging desire to have sex again. You and Trent had foolishly decided you wouldn’t fuck until your wedding day once you arrived in New York. Something you were seriously regretting the past few days. You didn’t really pay much attention to just how often you had been having sex with him but not doing it… it had become very apparent just how frequently you did. It was the night before the welcome day, the day before your wedding, and you had reached a breaking point of horniness with Trent in bed. 

“I don’t want to sleep apart tomorrow.” You whined cuddling up to him under the covers.  

“How come baby?” Trent asked you quietly, pulling you into him more with a kiss to your temple.  

“Because I want your hands on me.” You muffled out digging your face into his neck. You pouted your lip pushing it against his warm skin. “T, pleassseee, just touch me.” You complained as you  moved his hands for him from your sides to cheekily beneath your tiny pajama shorts.  

“I’m not going to loose this.” He whispered teasingly, ghosting your lips with his. He moved closer to you his cold minty breath hitting you with a dervish handsome smile smirking back at you. 

“I miss you baby.” You whined again hoping you could convince him if you made him feel bad enough for keeping himself from you for the past few days.  

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve been thinking about you a lot but I don’t loose I’m sorry, pretty girl.” Trent cooed. This wasn’t even a game you decided this together but you knew Trent well enough that he wasn’t going to break the pact you made and he wasn’t going to let you otherwise you would have ‘failed’ or ‘lost’ and that’s just something he didn’t want to do.

“I don’t care, I’ll loose T…” you moaned but Trent just shook his head at you.  He wasn’t going to loose by you giving up. “What have you been thinking about?” You asked in an attempt to shift his mindset to all the things you’ve currently been thinking about and certainly missing. 

“Mmmm.” He hummed reminiscing. “Baby, just been thinking about tasting you, kissing your neck, eating you out, sliding inside you,  and I know you’ll say otherwise but playing with your ass.” He cheekily whispered in your ear. A shiver ran up your spine.  

“Please.” You whined in response shutting your eyes desperately wanting him to do anything with you right now. Yes, even that. Anything. “Come here, gimme a cuddle, baby. Alexander-Arnold’s don’t lose.” He cooed,kissing on your neck. 

“T.” You pouted “I hate this.” You continued to complain. Being an Alexander-Arnold didn’t sound like much fun at this very minute. You just wanted him to concede and fuck you. 

“I know you do, pretty girl. You just want me to play with that pretty pussy.” He kept his voice hush, dragging his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, gliding over your smooth skin. Close but still incredibly far from where you wanted them. 

“T, stopppp! Just get away from me then.” You huffed genuinely upset at your frantic state. You gave him a pouty face and tried to move away from him in the bed. 

“Nah, c’mere. Just  stay with me, you’ll be okay, baby.” He cooed gently pulling you into him somehow in a non sexual way but in a very loving comforting manner. He kissed the top of your head. “Soon. Promise. Trust me, you won’t have to even ask.” He whispered. You nuzzled into him, pressing your pouty lips to his neck. 

You had gotten ready in your apartment and gone for a lunch earlier in the day with all your family and friends to welcome them to Manhattan. It was the day before your wedding which seemed surreal that was the case. Your mum took Teddy for you and Trent after lunch. The two of you giggled drunk off champagne stumbling back into the hotel room you two had shared the first time you ever met. In a way you felt like it was your room. You knew it so well. You clung to Trent as he fumbled the key to open the door. You had bags dropped off for you both at the hotel earlier. What was driving you crazy was the you two wouldn’t spend the night together ahead of the wedding. Needless to say you were glued to each other. It was rare spending nights apart when you didn’t have to. Trent traveled so much that spending additional nights apart was awful and avoided at all costs. 

“T… are you still hungry?” You giggled probably more buzzed than you realized from lunch. Calling it a lunch was a little bit of a stretch though, you hadn’t gotten to eat all the much though because you were talking so much. 

“Hungry, thirsty, and very in love with you, baby.”  He cooed. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms over your chest across you. You craned your neck to the side and kissed his covered shoulder. 

“Room service it is then because I need to get ready soon but I’m not leaving your side.” You kissed him again and reached your arms behind your holding his body to his. 

“Usual?” He asked and you smiled, liking the fact that you had a usual and the fact that he knew it. You hummed. He ordered you two cheeseburgers, fries, and champagne. It was a dream. You sat on top of the bed you’d sadly sleep in alone tonight with your head resting on his shoulder eating and drinking, kissing and talking. Eventually you got off the bed to get dressed. Your mum had organized a dinner tonight at The Plaza. You gave tonight to your her to host. It was probably more formal than your actual wedding the following day but you’d give it to her, more her vibe then yours. It was her dream for you, to throw this sort of ornate event. That said, fancy or casual, you were about to turn put a look your mum would kill you for. You and Winnie had found a dress Moda Operandi had carried by Nensi Dojaka that was entirely see through and it was gorgeous. It was ‘white sequined’ as you described it to your mum which wasn’t a lie, you just had chosen to send her the off model photo of the dress keeping the transparency element a secret until she saw you tonight. You slipped into a sheer sequined gown in the ensuite. You pulled it on and even though you could do it yourself you slinked back into the room while Trent buttoned his shirt. 

“Do you mind zipping this for me?” You cheekily asked him excited to see his reaction to your very cheeky dress. 

“Oh my fucking … oh my god. Are you serious right now? Baby… holy fuck. Come here.” His jaw stayed stack as he took your hand and held it above your head for you to spin around for him. When your back was to him mid twirl he groaned seeing your ass through the material in just a Miu Miu pair of underwear maybe shorts you weren’t sure what you’d call them but they were intended to be seen. 

“Do you like?” You giggled turning back around to him draping your arms over his shoulders. His eyes scanned you and Trent shook his head in disbelief. You let go and thanked him for zipping your dress and skipped back to the bathroom to put the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Erm… where do you think you’re going wearing that? Jesus, baby, you’re not leaving my side tonight.” He cooed following you into the room. His hands were quick to find their way to your covered ass. “I hate being the one that just zipped this thing up. I really should be taking this off you. Honestly, that’s all I’m going to be thinking about tonight. You rolled your eyes with a blushing smile looking back at him through the mirror. “I know you’ve probably had your outfit picked out for ages so don’t feel inclined to switch anything up for me but I did get you a little something…” He spoke quietly in your ear resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“A little something like what, T?” You giggled fairly sure it would be something from Bergdorf Goodman. He snuck away from you and grabbed the all too familiar purple bag. You smiled a little bigger coming to see him with it. 

“I know you wanted this for a little and couldn’t find it but I’ll find anything for you, baby. I’ll do anything to make you happy, I’ll get you anything you want.” He cooed, handing you the bag. You took it from his hesitantly, not totally sure what it would be. You unboxed a Louis Vuitton bag you’d been hunting for for ages. It was a trunk style clutch in all white. 

“T… thank you, baby. I’ll wear it tonight no question. I love it and I love you more.” You cooed placing the bag on the bed carefully before giving him a sweet kiss. As you gathered your stuff to head down to the party you looked at Trent inspecting himself in the mirror. “T… why did you talk to me on the corner, you know when we met?” You cooed curious for an answer, sort of shocked you’d never asked him outright before. 

“What?” He looked at you through the full length mirror but turned around to look at you properly. “I mean, baby, looks aside.” He gestured to your figure currently as you clasped your heels on. “I liked how nervous you were about your confidence.” He smiled at you.  

“You liked that I was insecure?” You asked him in response with a furrowed brow. It seemed like an odd answer. It definitely wasn’t the one you probably were expecting. 

“No, no.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I hated it, actually because it made no sense. I needed you to know how beautiful you were, you are, how smart you are. It was like you betrayed yourself by talking to me. You should be that confident but every time you said something you looked like you were shocked it came out of your mouth.” He kept his sweet smile as he walked towards you. He cupped your cheek and ran his thumb along your jawline. “I wanted to just make sure you knew how beautiful you are, inside, outside, and even if you didn’t want to date me, see me again, which I wasn’t keen on, you deserved to know that. You had me hooked from the jump, baby.” He cooed. 

“I know you think I am.” You replied with a pouty smile thinking his reasoning was really tender.  

“We’re getting there right? How beautiful, you think you are?” He cooed gently knowing this conversation was entering dicey territory. Your opinion of yourself, your own beauty was something you were working on. You nodded shyly. ”Good baby.” he winked at you and kissed your lips. You felt butterflies fill your stomach. It hadn’t really sunk in yet that this man who took such good care of you, who really truly and deeply cared about your well being above everything else was going to be yours for the rest of your life.

You went to the party and were met with an eye roll from your mum, a squeal of excitement from Lauren, kisses from Teddy, and a few jokes from Marcel. It was a very fun night. It was the perfect way to kick things off. Your anxiety though was growing as the hours of the night ticked by and faded into the morning ones of your big day. You had a tearful goodnight and goodbye to Trent holding your baby girl. You were trying not to cry but both of you crying in front of Trent probably wouldn’t have been a nice thing for him to deal with, not tonight. You managed and made your way back to the hotel room upstairs you two had shared for years. Instead of her crib you had Teddy cozied up to you cuddling in the big bed just wanted the comfort of her. 

“Mama, need dada.” Teddy cooed sleepily nuzzling her face into your cleavage not being able to fall asleep without him. You had said goodnight but not in the usual fashion. Typically Trent would call if he was away. That always made her more calm and settled.  

“Why baby?  Mummy’s got you.” You told her quietly trying to reassure her everything was okay.

“Lub mama.” Teddy humphed out but continued squirming against you unhappily.   

“Yeah, I know.” You cooed gently. “Why do you need daddy right now though?” You asked her brushing your hand over her head dragging her curls back. 

“Dada tect mama and teddy.” She whimpered out. You pouted at her. It was so cute. 

“Yeah, he does, he takes good care of us, right?”  You looked at her adorably similar face to his, his eyes essentially reflecting back at you. It was a comfort you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah huh, mama need.” She babbled back, cuddling into you more wrapping her arms around your neck. 

“Okay, baby.” You hummed kissing the top of her head. You didn’t want to call and break the rules you had agreed upon. You had said goodnight and that was supposed to be it before you saw each other for the actual ceremony but you weren’t going to deprive Teddy of him. “We’ll text daddy. Okay? Send him a picture of us. Can you say cheese for me?” You smiled at her reaching for your phone. You took a selfie of you two tucked in bed and sent it to Trent with a message.   

‘Little teddy bear misses her daddy. Says he protects her and mama. Can we have our bedtime kiss please.’

Trent was quick to respond, thankfully as you were both definitely getting tired and you, very very nervous. He sent it along with a voice note with a ‘mwah!’ And a photo of him and Teddy’s stuffed bear in bed. 

‘Love my baby bear and mummy so much. My beautiful girls. Sending you the biggest hugs and kisses. Get a good sleep for me.’  

“Dada where?” Teddy cooed as you left the party tonight. She was very confused why you had to say bye and split up.   “I’m gonna go have a sleepover with Celly and Ty. You, mama, and Win are gonna have one, okay?” He told her with a soft smile not trying to get into the logistics of pre wedding ceremony archaic traditions you weren’t sure you even knew why you were doing.  “Why?” Teddy looked back at Trent devastated. Her big eyes filling quickly with tears. You told it was okay coddling her. “Take dada. No ‘lone.” She cooed with a terribly cute pout trying to hand Trent her stuffed bear.  “Aw thank you, baby. Okay, so I’llI get your beary and you get mama, that’s a fair trade off.” Trent cooed taking the floppy stuffed bear. He kissed Teddy’s forehead with a ‘thank you.’

“Look who’s already asleep with dada, Ted.” You cooed while showing her the phone after you read her the message.. Trent had tucked her little bear in the bed with him and folded the comforter over resting its head on the pillow beside him.   

“Mama sleep?” Teddy asked quietly and tiredly seeing your eyes still open staring out the window looking out into the warm glow of the Manhattan night.  

“Sorry, baby. I’m okay. Just thinking.” You smiled at her and gave her a kiss. Her brow furrowed, confused. Not sure what you meant so you figured if you were both awake you might as well explain. Truthfully, emotions were trashing around in your body. “You know how when you're sad, dada makes it all better. Makes you happy?” You asked her setting up her reasoning and understanding. She nodded “Well dada does that for me too. Dada makes mummy not sad anymore.” Saying it out loud made you so sentimental. You started crying trying to fight back the lump forming in your throat. Trent would wipe Teddy’s tears if she was scared of a thunderstorm or if she scraped her knee but what he’d done for you was on another scale. He really pulled you out of a really bad place. It definitely was still lingering but the light he had brought into your life was like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

“Mama, no sad. Need dada?” Teddy asked you worried you were crying.  She tried to wipe tears and it made your heart break. So much had happened it was so amazing you’d finally all be connected under one surname. You’d be husband and wife with your little girl. It seemed mundane but it made such a difference to you. It was such a massive deal to you. 

“I’ve got you, Teddy bear. You make mama so happy, yeah?” You cooed with a sad smile kissing her sleepy pout. You pulled her tight to you and breathed her in. Your heart stilled in appreciation for what you and Trent had created. Trent and Teddy were your entire life. They meant everything to you. They really did make you happy and you couldn’t ask for anything more. 

“Come with me Mrs. Alexander Arnold!! We’ve got shit to do!” Winnie quietly squealed waking you up. Your mum in the other room shook her head at Winnie’s mouth.

“Can you cuddle with Win Win?” You cooed stroking your hand over a very sleepy Teddy’s head. She cuddled closer to you but you had to peel her off. You had to wake up extra early to begin the lengthy process of getting ready for arguably the biggest day of your life. You had a lymphatic drainage appointment first, followed by your nails, then your hair, and makeup, 

“C’mere, Teddy girl, you and I are gonna go snooze a little longer, yeah?” Winnie’s cooed plopping herself on the bed and pulling Teddy over to her.

“Are you gonna look pretty like mama today?” One hairstylist asked Teddy as she did her hair. She giggled a yeah as she watched her carefully part her curls. Yourself, Winnie, Lauren, Teddy and your mum all were getting ready at The Plaza and taking a helicopter out to the location of your ceremony out east. 

“I have a delivery!” Lauren cooed running into the room with a gift bag and a big thing of flowers. 

“I wonder who it’s from!” Winnie teased sarcastically as if it could be from anyone else but Trent. You giggled, pausing getting your hair for a moment to see what he had sent along. You scooped Teddy off the ground and sat her on your lap. 

“Is it from dada? Let's see what he sent to me and you, Teddy girl.” You cooed with a big smile pressing your cheek to hers. You unwrapped two jewelry boxes with dainty gold bracelets, one for each of you, Teddy’s much smaller for her wrist, with two small diamond A letters on it. You pouted as your hairstylist helped you clasp the fine bracelet. “And what will we say to daddy?” You asked Teddy inspecting her tiny wrist new adorn with a matching bracelet. Your eyes started to fill with tears. The morning was starting to get to you. 

“Tanks dada, lub most.” Teddy looked at you with her big brown eyes and a pout seeing you look so emotional. She tilted her head confused. Your mum came over and wiped under your eye with her thumb. 

“No tears after makeup is finished.” Your mum spoke softly. You knew it was coming from a good place but of course it had to be about keeping your appearance up. “Isn’t that right, beautiful girl?” She cooed once more, shifting her focus to Teddy. 

You stood on a slight pedestal in the middle of a grand room high up in the plaza as two stylist helped zip your wedding dress up. 

“Y/N… it's perfect.” Winnie crocked out starting to cry. Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to reel back in her tears. Teddy sat on her lap in a little dress. You weren’t doing the traditional bridesmaids thing but both her and Lauren were in light pink looks. Winnie in an Alaia gown, Lauren in lace Alessandra Rich dress. You wanted it to be relaxed for everyone. High end and chic but casual materials for comfort. Not to mention it would create a moment for your dress to stand out that much more. Your dress was everything you wanted and more. You had originally found a dress in London but things changed quickly when you got word of the Oscar de La Renta column gown of your dreams was available. It was strapless not overtly white but had pearl embellishments in a scalloped pattern overlaying a sheer-ish silk fabric. It was classic but cheeky and you felt like it embodied you.  When you felt the stylist zip it up you felt an odd sense of relief wash over you and your anxiety leave you, feeling more confident in your appearance than ever in this dress.

“What do you think?” You spun around with a childish grin with your arms raised for all the girls in the room to see it, you all done up for your wedding day. You had kind of run with the whole beach wedding theme choosing the scalloped pattern and pearl gown so you opted for a pair of drop pearl earrings with a hint of gold and Jimmy Choo satin sandal heels.

“Mama pwincess!” Teddy squeal shuffling off Winnie’s lap and running to you. You leaned down to her and kissed her forehead. 

“Yeah? You think? What do you think dada will say?” You giggled really appreciating her compliment. That’s all you really wanted was for your daughter to think of you that way. 

“Dada say booful, mama!” She cooed happily swaying back and forth in front of you, anchoring herself to you by grabbing the dress. You thought your stylists were about to have an aneurysm watching her pull on the beading but you didn’t care. You had a photographer with you all day capturing your morning which was surreal so after an hour or so of pictures you made your way to the west side to get the helicopter out to Montauk. Nerves beginning to rise once again. Lauren of course organizing champagne to be on board. Another thing organized was a little girl she had sent to Trent from you for that morning. She had somehow convinced you to do a photoshoot in the lingerie you had purchased to wear on your wedding night with him. She had gotten a bunch of them printed out and placed in glassine envelopes to sneak into his day. One in the interior pocket of his jacket. Another to find tucked under the dinner plate he’d eventually sit at, and a bunch of other sneaky places she could think of. Your favorite were probably the ones where you weren’t even in the lingerie. They were spicy, still sweet but definitely sexy and just for your husband… and Lauren because she helped you narrow down your selections. (vibes 1, 2)

‘We begin our story in New York’ was the sign at the entrance to the ceremony. You squeezed Winnie’s hand trying to not cry. Your dad met you outside Gurney's resort where all the guests had already arrived. Your mum, Winnie, and Lauren took Teddy and made their way to their seats. It was small and intimate but everyone important in your lives were there. Trent waiting anxiously for your arrival. His palms began to get clammy once he saw Teddy get plopped down in his mum's lap knowing very well that meant you were close to come walking down the aisle to him, into your marriage, into the next phase of your life.

Falling for Trent had been unexpected. You felt like your life had been a labyrinth before you ran into him on 78th Street. It was endless turns and dead ends until you found him. This unbelievably handsome, talented, intelligent, loving, man who treated you the way you deserved to be treated. He treated you like an absolute angel. When you saw him outside your apartment building for your first date you could feel your heart calm, when he held you months later a in the tunnel at Anfield, when he told you he loved you, when you moved in together, when you got pregnant, during all of these unbelievably exciting things you got to enjoy then each with the calmest of hearts, so sure he would always take care of you. He made you feel so special, so important. Out of all the amazing, incredibly important people Trent knew from around the world, he always made sure that you knew you mattered too. That you were supposed to be anywhere so purposefully. He’d squeeze your hand and your body would calm once again.

“It will be the best day of your life. Have faith.” Your dad cooed in your ear like he always did, telling you to trust and 'have faith.' Your dad stood with you before the aisle. You could feel yourself shaking. He wrapped his arm around you still holding your hand with the other. “I love you, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. I’m so honored I get to be a part of your day with Trent. Unbelievably happy that you found someone that returns all the love and joy you bring into everyone else’s lives.” He spoke softly and you began to tear. He wiped under your eyes and kissed your temple. You had a floaty feeling lingering all day but one of true comfort engulfed you with his reassurance. You stepped out into the aisle and shut your eyes gently for a moment taking a deep breath. Trent looked at you with a confident gaze at first. There was a tinge of nerves behind his eyes but his perfect pout fell into a soft comforting smile. He licked his lips in the way that he always did. You remember being awestruck by the way he looked in person the first time you met him, the way his skin gleamed in the golden sunlight the same way it did right now.  It wasn’t surprising but it was more so just amazing how his looks had such an intoxicating effect on you, your wedding day was no exception.

'You needed more of him. He was intoxicating, he felt like you took a shot of liquor. You felt light headed, the world blurred around you, giggling to yourself at the feeling in your chest. What the hell was wrong with you. '

Walking down the aisle was a blur, literally and figuratively. Your eyes were filled with tears glazing over them but also the feeling walking down the floral pathway (vibes). You could smell the flowers and the salty air, you could feel the slight breeze coming off the water hitting your skin warmed by the beating sun’s rays, but you couldn’t really make anything else out but Trent at the end of it all, the bright devilishly handsome smile beaming back at you.Trent’s heart was thumping against his rib cage. Nostalgia rushing through him as he remembered the first time he saw you. You looked different today though in the best way possible. You looked older but in a mature more beautiful way. You looked less nervous but in a confident more beautiful way. You looked ethereal as your veil cascaded around you. The sunlight reflecting off the ocean water onto your skin through the cathedral length tulle around you. He definitely didn’t see it off the jump. He was focused on your stunning bronzy natural beachy made up face but the veil was embroidered with the date of your ceremony and a cheeky ‘Til’ Death Due Us Part - TAA.’ You were a vision, an angel on earth, and the love of his life. Your dress reflected and shined, it wasn’t anything like Trent was expecting. It was far better than anything he could’ve imagined.  He mouthed an ‘You look beautiful’ with his waterline filling with tears. You responded with a pouty ‘I love you.’ You said your vows and in a way it felt like you could sense a shift, like there was a change in you that felt more at ease. It wasn’t a valid or genuine worry Trent would leave you but you were insecure and in some way, the fact that you were stood with him in front of your family and friends declaring your love, committing your life to one another was such a relief to you. It was like you could feel the anxiety draining from your body. You kept things fairly simple at the ceremony. You were stood on the very edge of a grassy cliff at the resort overlooking the water. You had filled the area with summer floral arrangements, bunches of green hydrangeas, coral delphiniums, pink dahlias and yellow ranunculuses. You loved the contrast of your ornate dress with the relaxed environment. You had convinced Trent to wear a double breasted light tan linen suit from Brunello Cucinelli with a white button down. He looked delicious and just perfect. You held his hands across from you bitting the inside of your lip trying not to cry as you said your vows. You didn’t read any personal sentiments aloud because you knew neither of you would be able to get through them without balling. You had written them and planned to share them with each other on your own time but they were just for you two to share. You whispered back and forth something you had placed in both your vows, a rendered snippet from Beethoven's letter ‘Immortal Beloved’ and while it sounds pretentious it was just something you had once read aloud to Trent once on a plane. It stuck and you often said it to each other.

“Forever yours.” You quietly spoke just to Trent before the anticipated moment to seal your marriage with a kiss when prompted by the officiant. 

“Forever mine.” He responded the next line in a whisper. 

“Forever ours.” You whispered ghosting your lips over his leaning in a little closer. Trent moved in and you sunk into his pillow lips. It was paradise on earth. Nothing would ever be better than kissing… your husband. It was affectionate, sweet and sincere, long enough that your photographer had a chance to get the best photo and the officiant to step out of the way. You turned around to look at all your family and friends, plenty of tears being shed in their seats. Teddy was sitting more quietly than you could’ve hoped on Dianne’s lap in the front row of seats clapping along with everyone else.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent cooed, picking up Teddy in his arms. He grabbed for your hand again, kissing your lips once more. “Happy for mummy and daddy?” He asked Teddy quietly in her ear. She nodded then reached out for your attention. You cupped her cheek and rubbed your nose against hers. 

“You, me, and daddy forever, okay?” You whispered to her before kissing her lips. She giggled in Trent’s arms as you processed down the aisle as The Alexander - Arnold’s. You spent a good amount of time, maybe an hour or so taking photos just the three of you before your reception. Tears welled up in your eyes as you poorly tried to blink them away seeing photos being taken of just Trent and Teddy. They were your whole world but they were also so strikingly beautiful. Your bottom lip rolled into a pout looking on. You didn’t have to say anything Trent could read you like a book. You watched him whisper something to Teddy. He placed her on the grass and she ran to you with giggles.

“Mama! Mama!” She squealed. You bent down the best you could to her level, slightly restricted in your dress. “Piture with dada and Teddy.” She grabbed at your hand and pulled you. “Dada say pretty like mama.” She stopped the tug of your arm to twirl a little in front of you showing you her own dress she was absolutely loving being in. 

“Yeah, my most beautiful girl. Mummy and Daddy’s pretty girl.” You pulled her back into you to kiss her lips and then let her run back to Trent as you followed in her wake. You had put Teddy in a fun Gucci dress. It was summer in Montauk, you didn’t want her to be uncomfortable or give her any space to be upset or complain so you had found a really fun marine motif printed smock pleated dress in creams, blues, and pinks. She really liked twirling about in it and asking everyone she could if they had seen the ‘fwish’ on it which was adorable of course. Her hair brushed tight and slicked into a bun with a few ringlets escaping. 

Your guests found their way and funneled over to the back garden overlooking the sea at your parent’s estate. You had one long table scape for all your guests for the dinner portion that lined and ran directly along the edge of the property next to the water’s edge. It had the same wildflower arrangements like those from the ceremony on the table’s runner. It was earthy and calm, natural and relaxed but of course you needed to change looks for the reception. You weren’t going to wear just one dress on your big day. You switched into a Tom Ford crochet knit dress. It was more laid back. Although it definitely didn’t feel all that relaxed to Trent.

“You need to stop looking so good or I’m going to have to make you leave our own wedding.” Tried cheekily cooed wrapping his arms low around your waist pulling your body flush against his. “You’ve been teasing me all day. Those sneaky pictures were unfair, baby. Can’t see my wife looking like that and expect me to behave.” He whispered closer to your ear.

“T… I am counting down the minutes until you take me out of the dress.” You giggled whispering back to him. “You didn’t like the photos? I thought my husband would want to see me like that only for him.” You sarcastically joked quietly to him. He hummed with some distain kissing your temple. You were in fact dreaming of Trent peeling your dress off, you wanted to rile him up with all the seductive photos you had left for him.  You were desperate to get back into bed with him but for now you had your wedding to celebrate. You sat in a chair next to Trent with Teddy on your knee as Winnie got up to speak. You’d be lying if you weren’t a little nervous for what she was going to say. She introduced herself and began, your heart racing.

“Erm… growing up with Y/N was a mixed bag. She was and is my best friend but constantly being compared to the most perfect person on earth gets old quick but I imagine Marce and Ty can relate and know that feeling quite well with T. It’s one of the many many reasons there are no two people more suited. Never have two more perfect people been paired together. The envy you evoke from the entire world is completely merited and we all hate.. I mean love you for it. 

"To the Alexander- Arnold boys, you are getting the best sister in the world. Somethings I know you’ve gotten a chance to come to know like you will always have the most fun and a good laugh, you will never have a bad cocktail I promise, you will always get great advise, although I’ve heard Tyler gives Y/N a run for her money in that department, and the best closet in the world to ‘borrow’ from but maybe that last bit doesn’t really apply to either of you, nevertheless she is the best sister in the world. You are inheriting one of the biggest blessings and joys of my life being related to Y/N…” Winnie continued rambling on for a little while before beginning to tell a story she wanted to share. “If you know Y/N, and I’m assuming you all do, she’s the bride.” She joked and you shook your head. “ Y/N is fairly synonymous with her best friend Lauren. They traveled a lot together and I’m not sure they every really knew where they were, I could frankly never keep up but what I did begin to notice was that a few years ago when Y/N was in England, I saw that Lauren was in Spain, when Lauren was in Amsterdam,  Y/N was in England, and then oddly enough when Lauren was in Paris… Y/N was still in England. To pull them apart, it had to be something good and to be fair, I think it was.” She looked at you with a cheeky grin as you hid behind your hands embarrassed. “I just wish you had told me what was keeping you in England earlier. So in retaliation for keeping your relationship so secretive in the beginning I’m going to embarrass you but it’s my job and you should’ve known this would come up at some point, sorry.” She giggled, raising her glass to you. You shook your head with a shy grin waiting apprehensively for her to say whatever it was going to be for her to embarrass you. “I remember my jaw just about dropping through the floor into the apartment below mine when Y/N finally admitted she was seeing someone and that was why she was still in England. I figured as much but it’d be fair to say it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I once received a text from Y/N when she and my dad had gone to Liverpool for a match a few years prior. She sent me a cheeky picture of the man next to her right now… Yes, I have it here.” Winnie spoke and held up her phone. “Thank you, Apple for saving this as well as unearthing a lot of my embarrassing drunk texts sent in the process but I will read Y/N’s text aloud for you all. ‘I am obsessed with this boy's face.’ She sent me his instagram beneath the text to which I responded ‘wow, are you with him?’” Winnie gestured to you. “Y/N was quick to reply ‘Are you..’  Please close Teddy girl’s ears, your mum curses in the next sentence. ‘Are you fucking insane? Did you look at his instagram he plays for the club. No I’m not with him! I’d have nothing to say!!!’ Well I think you were wrong because evidently you have had plenty to say. She then sent me a photo of Trent on the pitch, just doing his job, unaware his eventual wife was in the stadium. I will skip a more crude text she had also sent.” Winnie laughed and you mouthed an ‘oh my god’ tucking your face in Trent’s neck.

“T, if you want to read, I will show you. Mum, dad, Alexander-Arnold family, I will spare you from it but moving on… I, the smart girl that I am said ‘wow, maybe you’ll get married, get dad season tickets.’ Joking of course, but coming away with the relationship you and Trent have built and the love you share is much more lucrative and valuable than any match ticket, although I know dad has been thrilled with your choice of person to fall for. To be honest, as a younger sister it was hard for me to wrap my head around Y/N moving to a new country selfishly. I had eventually met Trent a little further into the relationship and he was everything and more. T, truly you are one of my favorite people in the world, we always have a good time, you’re a terrible loser, but the best man for Y/N and an amazing father as well.I really couldn’t build a more ideal man for Y/N and I know she agrees with me. Something I know about Y/N is that she isn’t one for the spotlight but it seems to find her, I mean.. have you seen her? Regardless, I was hesitant about the whole relationship. I was scared of the lifestyle, I was scared that she’d be overlooked and under-appreciated I won't lie but there was a turning point for me that I just wanted to share quickly. Trent was visiting our house here and I heard them in the kitchen late one night. As the younger sibling I had a responsibility to eavesdrop so I listened to Trent call her an angel and I felt like he, someone, finally really understood just how amazing she is. Trent, thank you for taking care of my sister and of course my cutie niece. She is an angel and all I ask in this marriage is that you never forget or never take for granted what an angel she is.” You weren’t able to hold in your tears back anymore. Hearing Winnie begin to sniffle between her words tipped you over the edge. You kissed Teddy’s head trying not to just entirely burst into a fit. Winnie carried on a little longer with a few more jokes and well wishes. You had cut a simple sheet cake that just had the same ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ again written atop it. Your mum hated it and you adored it. The night carried on and you had the best time of your life and you were adamant about staying in the moment but you were simultaneously eager for the night to be over so you could go home with Trent, it had been far too long. You enjoyed the night partying with family and friends, Winnie was glued to Jadon, Lauren to Jude and while you were dying to hear about it all you’d have to settle to ask about them another day. As the night dwindled down you had one thing in your mind and one thing only. Your mum had taken Teddy and you were left with Trent giggling your way through the door of your room. 

“Where are you going, beautiful.” Trent asked as you let go of him and scampered off into the bathroom. You giggled and shut the door into the ensuite. He wasn’t sure what you were doing but you knew that’d he’d like what you were doing. You slinked off your crochet dress and slipped into white lingerie that would make any man drool, right now, you’d hope it’d have that effect on your man. 

“For my husband.” You cooed opening the door standing in its frame illuminated by the warm bathroom light. Trent’s jaw slacked just the way you had wanted it to. 

“I am the luckiest man in the whole world. Holy fuck. C’mere baby.” He grinned at you. He stood up off the edge of the bed, taking both of your hands before he pulled you towards him. He sat you on the bed and leaned you backwards crawling over you. Things moved simultaneously slow and fast all at once. Before you knew it he had worked kisses down from your neck to in between your legs. 

“T, oh my god baby I missed you so much.” You breathed unsteadily as he kissed the inside of your thighs before he dove nose deep into your pussy eating you out like a starved animal after your days of no sex. He was eating you out messily and you were in heaven.  

“Fuck, baby. I needed this. I needed you.” He muffled out, his hot breath hitting against your wet folds covered with your juices and his spit. He played mercilessly with your pulsating clit. He was slurping you clean. Your legs were spread open for him as you gripped his hair pulling him further into you, shoving his face closer against you. The noise of it all was impossibly lewd. His plump lips latching on to your arousal. He had the cheekiest smile as he worked away, keeping his eyes flicked up to watch your face scrunch in pleasure. He dragged his tongue from your clit through your folds before he dove into your entrance, keeping his nose rubbing up and down against the sensitive nub. “Taste so fucking good, baby.” 

“Please, T! Right there, oh my god.” You whined, your thighs beginning to shake. The sound of your cries making Trent grow painfully hard. He groaned into your pussy and the vibrations made you throb even more. His lips were drenched with your westness, it ran down his chin and he was loving every second of it, and to no surprise, obviously you were too. He pulled away momentarily and spit directly on your pussy, you were so sensitive even the feeling of it running down you had you whining more. You could feel your back arch involuntarily off the bed. His tongue continued to swiftly maneuver against your opening. You were so wet Trent probably could probably drown between your legs. Swiftly you felt your first orgasm of the night crash over you. He hummed kissing your sensitive clit once more pulling away with a smug grin loving the fucked out expression on your face you couldn’t wipe if you tried. He worked kisses back up your body and each one lit your skin on fire. He dragged his two fingers through your folds before brining them up for you. 

“Open f’me, baby.” Trent whispered still working his kisses up you now at your neck as he brought his fingers covered in your juices and slipped them in between your lips. You moaned, swirling your tongue around his fingers sucking them like you would his cock. “Such a good girl.” He cooed removing them before he sloppily kissed you in between desperate breaths. He climbed over you once more and removed the last bit of your lingerie. “I really loved this, baby but I need to see more of you, this fucking body.” He cooed, beginning to pump his hardening cock in his hand dragging it through your wet folds.  

“T, I need you inside me. Please. I want you to fuck me. I want to take all of you. Make me take you.” You begged him desperate to feel his size stretch you out again.

“I got you, baby.” He whispered, guiding his length inside of you beginning slow languid strokes. You rolled your hips up into him. He groaned feeling your hands drop from around his neck to drag your nails down his back.  He looked down at you with his big mahogany eyes filled with love and laced with lust. You both moaned simultaneously as the sounds of your wet pussy squelched with every thrust stretching you out, hitting deeper and deeper. Trent bit his plump lip watching you take him. You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly pulling his body down into yours. Your foot dragged down his back. He kissed you and then pulled away with a devastatingly gorgeous smile. “You’re so perfect. So fucking beautiful.” He cooed. Trent really believed that he’d never laid eyes on anyone more beautiful than you. “God, just want to marry you all over again, want to get you pregnant again, make more babies that have the most beautiful mummy in the world.” 

“T. I want that. You’re so fucking amazing. I want everything with you. I want you. I want more of you, baby. I love you so much.” You babled frantically losing your breath as he pushed your knees higher up towards your chest. His eyes flicked down at your tits as they bounced from the force of his thrusts. You moaned feeling him find that spot, the spot, the one only he knew. He dropped his head into your boobs, stuffing his face between them. Your breath hitched when you felt him drag his tongue over your nipples before latching his lips to one and then the other after. Your bodies were made for one another and you could feel that sync in pleasure. Trent propped himself up above you to watch his length glide in and out, a white ring forming around the base of his cock. It’d been hours of you sprawled for him. 

“I love you so much. You’re made for me. Perfect for me. I missed this so much. Fuck you feel so good.”  Trent grunted, continuing his pace, lifting your one leg over his shoulder to pound into you deeper. His thrusts growing slightly sloppier. 

“Fuck me, baby. Don’t stop. Please.” You whined. Nothing could ever compare to this. Your chest heaving in and out beneath him. You looked up at him and it felt like with every thrust the more and more you fell in love with him, and the closer and closer you were getting to another orgasm. 

“I promise you, beautiful I will never stop fucking you for the rest of my life.” He cooed. His eyes had a glimmer in them that made your heart flutter. You were so in love with him. He was just so pretty and right now, very sexy. The way his perfect pout was slightly agape, the way his brow creased from the pleasure from fucking you was gorgeous. Only you could make him feel like this, only your pussy. Your body was made for his pleasure. Your jaw slacked when he picked up your other leg and had both held up against his shoulders. His cock pushed so deep you could see it bulge in your stomach. He leaned forwards and kissed you. “I want to get you pregnant again, baby. Fill you up so good.”  He bit your lip and pulled it. 

“T, please. I need you. Cum inside me. I want I do bad. Get me pregnant again.” You begged getting wetter by the second remembering the feeling what his release inside you felt like. Trent continued to rock into your sopping wet pussy. He was so rough and yet so gentle at the same time. He brushed a piece of your hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“Going to give you everything you ever want, baby.” He smiled at you, his dimples indenting in his cheeks. You reached up and cupped his face. Your eyes shut in pleasure. “Look at me, beautiful. Right here, yeah?” He asked as he continuously hit the spot he knew you loved and he could see it on your face. You opened your eyes just enough to see his smug grin. “That’s it right? This spot. You love this, baby.”  The pleasure was insatiable, it was so good. 

“Yeah, T. Yeah, please. You feel so good. Right there.” You whimpered out nodding desperately pulling him down for another kiss. He kissed you back passionately but you pulled away slightly. “T, baby. I’m going to cum. Feels so fucking good.” You whined as tears began to fill your eyes. “I love you so much.” You pouted up at him. 

“I know, pretty girl. Doing so good f’me.” He cooed gently, taking your hand off his face and lacing it with his and pinning it above your head. Your pussy tightened around his cock and you began to kiss his neck, nibbling and biting on his most sensitive areas. You bit down towards his collarbone when he thrusted particularly harshly into you. Your back arched up more pushing your body further into his. Every movement you made had Trent doing everything in his power to not cum. He couldn’t wait to fill you up but this felt too good to stop.  

“T… I’m cumming. I can’t. Oh my god, fuck!” You cried out. He collapsed further into you, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. You were moving in complete harmony and he couldn’t hold out any longer. 

“I gotta cum baby, gonna fill you up. Get you pregnant. Fuck you feel good.” His brow furrowed as he dropped his hands to your hips with a harsh grip as he thrusted into you again and again with more precision. “Make a mess, baby. Go ahead, beautiful. Cum f’me.” He grunted and you moaned as waves and waves of white hot pleasure coursed through you. He began to slow his pace. You wrapped your hands around his strong biceps, your nails leaving crescent marks in his skin as you pulled him into you more. You whined feeling yourself drip down the inside of your thighs. A puddle beneath you. You were following instructions, you were definitely making a mess on his cock. He held your hips tighter and he groaned as he pumped his hot white cum inside of you. It continued to ooze out with his slow thrusts. 

“You’re perfect.” You panted out half way delirious not even sure where you were but very sure whose you were. His. His forever. 

“This is the best day of my life.” He rolled over to your side and pulled you into him drowsily. His chest rose and fell as you moved tighter to him unable to keep away. Velvety ropes of him spilled out of your pussy. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Good girl.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. 

“I… I love you so much T, baby.” You stuttered out barely able to form words. He hushed you pulling you into his slick warm skin. He peppered kisses all over you letting your body calm in his arms. 

“I love you so much, Mrs. Alexander Arnold.” He hummed with a smile seeing your pouty face, fucked out of your mind. You could barely keep your eyes open from the orgasmic haze you were currently in. He nuzzled his face into your hair and breathed you in. Waves and waves of comfort rushed through him from your scent alone. “My angel baby. You’re so beautiful. God, the most beautiful mummy, the most beautiful wife.” He cooed as his one hand gingerly and playfully toyed with the new stack of wedding ringers on your finger. 

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 25 xx

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-six] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms

The silence that followed your admission was excruciating. You wished you knew what Minho was thinking. He was impossible to read, aside from the evident anger written all over his face. His body language didn’t give much away either. He was closed off, arms folded across his chest, chin raised just slightly. 

“So who are you then?” he demanded, tone even despite being the exact opposite mere moments ago. 

“What?”

“Who are you? Are you just some girl that Jisung is using?”

“What the fuck, no!”

“Why are you acting like that’s some outrageous possibility? I just found out you’ve been lying to everyone all summer!”

“I’ve been Jisung’s best friend for like four years now, I’m all over his Instagram! Felix came to visit us and we all hung out, there are pictures of that too. I can’t believe you’d think I’m some random person!”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not thinking completely rationally right now!” he spat. “Why the hell would Jisung lie about- why would he say he had a girlfriend if he didn’t?”

“It’s a long story,” you mumbled with a sigh. “But we really don’t have time to get into that right now. I came up here because I was supposed to bring you back to the room.”

Minho made a face. “What, why?”

“Your cousins called.”

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. He visibly perked up, but only briefly, before seeming to remember the conversation he was having. “Jeongin and Yoon?”

“Yeah. Everyone else is on FaceTime with them right now. I told everyone I’d come to get you so that none of them would have to miss out on talking to him,” you explained. “So we should probably get going because I don’t know how long he has to chat.”

“Fine,” Minho surrendered easily, “but we’re not done talking about this.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you sighed again, still feeling nauseous. With everything that had already happened, you knew there was no way that this could end well. But now, now that one person knew it was all a lie, you were fucked. “Just… don’t tell anyone, please?”

He pursed his lips but nodded. “You sure have a lot of secrets to keep track of, don’t you?”

It was meant to sting, and it did, but you didn’t let him see the crack in the glass. 

“I could say the same for you.”

-

You slipped into your room as soon as you got back to the penthouse, not wanting to face any of the other Hans, especially not your best friend. You collapsed onto the bed with a muffled scream into your pillow. 

You expected yourself to start crying, but the tears didn’t come. They wouldn’t come. The initial panic had been replaced with numbness. Apathy personified, you could feel it spreading from your heart out through your veins, creating a tingling sensation that reached the very tips of your fingers. 

You had to tell Jisung, right? He’d understand… probably. You hadn’t told Minho. He figured it out on his own. Yeah, you should tell Jisung and then you could also come clean about… everything else. Maybe. But maybe you could also take it to your grave since it seemed like any possibility of you and Minho becoming an item, whatever that implied, was out of the question now. You knew he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Not after tonight. You couldn’t erase his look of betrayal from your mind no matter how hard you tried. 

Just how many people were you hurting by merely being on this trip? There was no way to know for sure, not that knowing would make you feel any less guilty. 

Maybe it was better not to tell Jisung. Maybe you could pretend like everything was fine, and then it would be. But that was what had gotten you in trouble in the first place. 

You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you woke up with a jolt some hours later. The room was dark. The lamp had been switched off and the blinds were shut. Jisung was snoring softly beside you. He was tucked under the covers while you were still laying on top of them. 

You rolled over and felt for your phone, finding it underneath your pillow. You were surprised to see that you had missed a text from Minho. It was from an hour and a half ago and just said can you meet me in room 422? 

You weren’t sure if he would still be waiting there since it had been so long since he sent the message, but you responded with a tentative sure and quietly snuck out of your bedroom. You hoped Jisung wouldn’t wake up before you returned. Having to explain where you were or why you were there would only complicate things. You still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him… anything. You needed more time to think things through. At least, that’s the excuse you told yourself. 

The fourth floor was eerily quiet, reminding you of how late it was. Stepping off the elevator into the hallway felt like a mistake, like you were trespassing on private property. Minho hadn’t replied to your text so you didn’t know if he was still awake, but you knocked at the door anyway. He answered after the second knock. 

“There you are,” he said and stepped aside to let you in. He seemed to have cooled down, which was a good sign, but there was still tension lingering between you. 

You slid by him, stopping in the entryway just past the door. The room he had summoned you to was just a plain hotel room. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and a desk in the corner, but not much else. 

“You can sit wherever.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Minho followed you but refrained from sitting, choosing to lean back against the dresser so that he could face you. 

“Why’d you want to meet me here?” you asked.

“I, uh, thought that talking in my room back at the apartment would look kind of weird if anyone saw us,” he explained awkwardly, “and the walls are thin too.”

“Alright, you have a point,” you admitted with a shaky exhale. “Whose room is this?”

“It’s mine. I went down to the lobby and booked it for the night.”

Oh to have a K-pop-sized disposable income.

“Oh, right. Should have thought of that.” You swallowed thickly, trying still to appear calm, cool, and collected. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

You realized that Minho hadn’t mentioned wanting to talk in his text. You were just assuming. But given the events of the night, you felt that it was a pretty safe assumption to make. 

“I wanted to know why you and Jisung lied to everyone,” he took a brief pause before continuing, “and why I now have to lie to everyone too.”

You bit your tongue, stopping yourself before you could point out that he was already lying to everyone, and just nodded. 

“So the thing is, when he told your parents he had a girlfriend, he did have a girlfriend. They broke up, like, less than a week after he told them that and I guess he was too embarrassed to break the news because they were so excited for him and had already invited her on the trip. Jisung figured that maybe he’d have another girlfriend by the time he actually had to go on the trip, but when the end of the semester rolled around and he didn’t, I kind of filled the vacancy because he asked me to.”

“But why?” Minho pressed. “Why was it so important for him to be dating someone?”

“I don’t know, actually. He told me that it was to make your parents happy because they were always bugging him about his dating life, but I thought there might have been another reason that he just wasn’t telling me.”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “Mom and dad are pretty nosy about our lives, but I don’t know why he would feel pressured to be in a relationship.”

“I think he felt like he had something to prove,” you said, choosing your words carefully. You knew how rocky Jisung’s relationship with his older brother was, at least from what he told you. You didn’t want to give Minho anything he could hold against him. “You’re not going to say anything to your parents or Felix, are you?”

“No,” he answered immediately and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “That’s his prerogative, I suppose. I don’t want to start anything between us- it’s not my place to say anything, really.”

“Thank you.”

He let his arms drop to his sides but didn’t move from where he was standing. “So, there’s really nothing going on between you and Jisung?”

“No, I swear.”

“Even after spending all this time together on the trip?”

“Nope, we spend all of our time together anyway.”

“So are you… friends with benefits?” he asked. 

“No. We’ve made out a few times, but it really just happens when we’re drunk. We never slept together.”

“But what about…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was talking about instantly.

“Oh, no! That was all fake. We just did that to sell it more, and sometimes to mess with you guys.”

“I knew there was no way he could be that good,” Minho whispered.  

You chuckled but came to your friend’s defense. “He seems to do pretty well for himself. Girls usually call him back after staying over so he must be doing something right.”

“I can’t believe it was fake,” Minho mumbled, mostly to himself. “Sorry, I’m still processing this.”

“Take your time.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, feeling a little more relaxed now that you knew he didn’t hate you. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked finally, letting the mask fall the tiniest bit. “After I kissed you the first time? Or when you kissed me back? This whole time I’ve felt like such an asshole for- for everything that happened.”

“I thought about it,” you admitted, “but Jisung and I agreed that it would stay between us. I’m sorry.”

“I get why you didn’t. I just wish it could have been different.” 

“Me too,” you agreed.

Minho crossed over to the bed and sat down next to you. 

“I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

You threw your head back laughing. You hadn’t expected him to say that. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s a relief not to have to keep up the act around you anymore.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Minho raised an eyebrow and grinned, making you shy away from his gaze. 

You looked down at your lap. 

“Because it was exhausting! I don’t know how to act.” It was a half-truth, and you suspected that he knew it. 

“You had me fooled.”

You managed to look back up at him only to find him staring at your lips. This was not how you imagined this conversation going at all. 

“Maybe I should change career paths then,” you choked out. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

A few more beats of silence lapsed between you before Minho spoke again. 

“All of this time we could have been doing this,” he murmured gently. 

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “What’s ‘doing this’?”

 He leaned forward and bridged the gap between you by pressing his lips to yours to answer your question. His hand came up to your hair instinctively, muscle memory, and brushed it out of your face before cupping your jaw. You melted into him like you had done too many times before, letting him trace the curves of your face with his thumb like he was trying to memorize it. 

His palm was warm and you could feel the calluses on his hand against your cheek. You were the first to moan, any embarrassment long forgotten as you climbed onto his lap. 

Minho accommodated your weight easily, hands immediately coming down to grab your ass. He allowed you to push him down so that he was lying flat on the bed with you straddling his waist. 

Minho slipped his tongue into your mouth as the kiss intensified, teasing you with it. You whimpered when he pulled away, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Minho just smirked and used the opportunity to flip you over so that he was on top. 

Then his lips were back on you, brushing against your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. As soon as you felt his teeth graze your skin you pushed his head back and gave him a look. It was his turn to pout. 

“You can’t leave marks, idiot.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said apologetically, though the shit-eating grin on his face let you know that he didn’t mean it whatsoever. “Well, you can mark me up as much as you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lucky me.”

Minho ignored your comment and raised himself onto his hands, still hovering over you. He looked pretty, even in the dim, yellowy hotel room light. His lips were already a bit puffy, but he hadn’t even been kissing you for that long. You briefly wondered how they’d look after making out with your cunt, all swollen and glossy. You tried to squeeze your thighs together at the thought, legs closing around Minho’s hips instead. He seemed pleased at your eagerness and rewarded you with another kiss. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked when he came up for air. You nodded. “Here, lift up a little.”

You did as he asked so that he could work the t-shirt over your head, laughing when he tossed it on the floor. 

“You weren’t wearing a bra?”

“I was about to go to sleep!”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Likely story.”

“No, you’re right. I came here in my pajamas fully intending to seduce you.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Of course it did. Men are so easy.”

He shook his head, tongue poking his cheek. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

You cocked your head to the side, fully aware that Minho had the physical upper hand. “We’ll see.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Minho’s hands were on your boobs, effectively shutting you up. He circled a thumb around each of your nipples, smirking when you gasped and arched your back. 

“Barely even touching you and look how eager you are for me,” he mused. 

“T-take your shirt off too.” It was meant to be a command, but it sounded more like a plea. 

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.”

Minho reached behind his neck and yanked his t-shirt off, throwing it in the same general direction as he had thrown yours. You had seen Minho shirtless plenty of times before and you still couldn’t help but stare. His body looked like one of those statues you had seen in the Louvre, carved out of marble by one of the artists they named the Ninja Turtles after. 

You reached out to touch his chest, running your fingertips along his pale skin. 

“Can I take these off too?” Minho asked, playing with the hem of your sweats. He snapped the elastic band against your hip, making you flinch. 

“Yes, please get them off of me, it’s hot,” you whined.

You were left in just your underwear beneath him. You were usually pretty confident with sexual partners, but with Minho you felt exposed, vulnerable. You felt the urge to cover yourself, even though he was looking at you like you were a star amongst the cosmos. 

He repositioned himself lower in between your legs and before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed his tongue against your clothed cunt, licking a fat stripe between your folds.

You cried out in surprise, hips bucking into his face as a string of curses left your mouth. 

Minho raised his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been imagining what you taste like for weeks. I just had to know.”

“It felt good,” you assured him, silently begging him to continue. “Was it what you hoped it would be?”

“Better. Can I please keep going?”

“God, yes.”

He placed a hand on either one of your thighs to hold you down as he buried his head in between your legs again. He teased you with his tongue over your panties, finding your clit in an impressively short amount of time. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing his head against you. He groaned, his grip on your thighs tightening as you pulled his hair.

“Please, need more,” you whined. 

And Minho was all too willing to give you exactly that. Instead of taking the time to take your panties off, he just pulled them to the side so that he could have complete access to your pussy. He went back to work and you both moaned. His tongue was wet and warm and felt perfect on your clit. You frowned when he started moving lower, confused as to what he was doing until you felt his tongue working you open. No one had ever tongue-fucked you before and you thought you might cum from that alone. 

Minho paused again to catch his breath. “Fuck, I knew you were wet, but I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” he rasped out. 

“Sorry,” you hissed, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Who the fuck ever told you to apologize for being turned on?”

“N-no one.”

“Good, because it’s hot.”

You scoffed. 

“Lay back down,” Minho said, nodding at you to punctuate his point. 

You rolled your eyes at him but did as he said anyway. “You’re so bossy.”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?”

“Fine, fine. Sorry.”

“I fucking knew you were a brat,” he sneered. 

“What gave it away?” you asked sweetly. 

“Take a wild guess.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows again despite just being told to lie down. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Instead of answering, Minho hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, making you lose your balance and yelp in surprise. You watched his shoulder muscles flex as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming. The sight was enough to make you want to squeeze your thighs together, but of course, Minho was stopping you from doing just that. 

He pulled your panties off completely this time, apparently frustrated with the obstacle in his way. They joined the heap of clothes on the ground. You didn’t even need to look at them to know that they were ruined. 

His mouth was back on you before you could get another word in, causing any snarky remark you’d been about to make dissolve into a moan. It was a little sloppy at first. He had yet to fully regain his bearings, but dove in headfirst anyway. Kisses against the crux of your thigh, nips at your hip bones. Teasing and experimental. 

His touch didn’t have the practiced familiarity of a lover. Each movement was eager, exploratory. He was learning your body like he had all the time in the world, but you were growing impatient. 

Your hands flew to his hair again as he finally laved his tongue over your clit. You suppressed your moans this time, remembering what he had said about the neighbors. 

“Fuck, keep going,” you hissed, encouraging him to continue. “Please keep going.”

You could feel Minho smirking against your pussy, but you didn’t care. He could be as cocky as he wanted if he was going to make you feel this good. 

It didn’t take much to get you to the edge. It had been a while since you’d gotten laid, and you had been wanting Minho for God knows how long… you would usually be embarrassed, not want to give a man a bigger ego than he already had, but you had a feeling Minho was trying to get you to cum before fucking you and you wanted him inside of you as quickly as possible. If anything, you were doing him a favor. 

“C-close, Min. ‘M really close!”

You could barely make out the muffled “already?” that came from him between your legs, but you still rolled your eyes anyway, half-tempted to push his head away. 

He guided two of his fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around as you came. The intention behind the action is what did it. He clearly cared about your pleasure which was rare to find in a partner, especially when said partner was a man. 

You came almost instantly, catching Minho off-guard as if “I’m close” hadn’t been warning enough. He must have taken it as an advanced notice rather than an immediate head’s up. He grunted in surprise as you bucked your hips up into his face, but recovered quickly, helping you ride out the orgasm until you relaxed back on the bed. 

He lifted his head finally, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and sucked your arousal off of his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand shortly afterward.

“Good?” he asked. 

“Really good,” you managed to choke out. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, take your pants off.”

Minho chuckled. “Should’ve known you’d only want me for my body.”

You pursed your lips but didn’t bother responding. You both knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, why would you be risking everything just to fuck him? 

Minho pushed himself off of the bed and shimmied out of his pants. As good as he looked in the gray sweats, you knew he would look even better with them off. And you were right. Even though he was still wearing his briefs, you could see the outline of his dick much more prominently. It made your mouth water and you sat up and shifted onto your knees to return the favor he had just given you. 

Minho saw you reaching out for him but shook his head. 

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice strained. “If that’s okay. I already almost came in my pants just from eating you out, I won’t last.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Not many men would admit to that.”

“Not many men would admit to getting off on making their partner feel good? You’re right.” 

You watched as he picked his pants up off the floor and pulled a condom out of one of the pockets. 

“Oh now you have a condom?” you teased.

“Look, I usually have them on me, I just didn’t that night,” he exclaimed in defense, the thin foil packet between his teeth. He ripped it open and pulled the rubber out, only pausing when you spoke again. 

“You don’t keep them in your wallet, do you?”

“I do, but I change them out pretty often. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine.”

With that settled, he slipped out of his underwear and rolled the condom on with ease. He joined you on the bed a moment later. You laid back and waited for Minho to position himself. 

“Wait-” you whispered suddenly, having been so in the moment that you had almost forgotten. “Are you clean?”

Minho let out a sigh of relief, probably having thought something was wrong. “Yeah, I got tested like two months ago.” 

“But the other night with that girl-”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I mean, I fully intended to, if I’m being honest. But I just… couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t get it up?” 

“Something like that,” he sighed. “I probably should’ve asked this before going down on you, but you’re clean too, right?”

You nodded. “I get tested all the time and I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“That makes two of us.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “You may… continue.”

“I’m surprised that didn’t immediately make my dick soft.”

“Oh, give me a break. My brain is still fuzzy from cumming.”

He snorted. “You’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t immediately make me dry up.”

“I’m allowed to be cocky!” he protested. “I made you cum in, what, a minute flat?”

“It took longer than a minute!”

“I don’t know about that. I think we should check the replay.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “And that must really turn you on. ‘Cause last time I checked you were dripping onto the sheets.”

“I-” you had nothing. You squeezed your thighs around Minho’s waist, trying to coax him inside of you. “Just stick it in already!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he repeated.

You held onto his arms as he pushed himself in, sighing in relief at the fullness. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he was still sizable. You had to take a second to adjust to the stretch before he could start to move. He fit perfectly, at least that’s what it felt like. You were positive he could tell how much you liked his cock from the way you unconsciously clenched around him, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. If his ego inflated to the size of the moon after this, fuck it.

“Fuck, st-stop doing that,” Minho stuttered, pressing one of his hands against your hip to try and keep you still. 

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re, God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he hissed. “If you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

You took a deep breath and willed your body to relax. It had been so long since you’d been properly fucked and you didn’t want it to be over before it even started. 

“Are you good to keep going?” Minho asked once he’d regained some semblance of composure. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, fuck please move.”

He leaned down to kiss you as he began to rock his hips into yours and you met him halfway. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip when you pulled away. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he confessed, voice raspy. 

Baby was new. And it made you whimper in response. 

“So goddamn tight. It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

Did he say this to every girl he fucked? Because it sounded like a line, but it was working like a charm on you. 

As if he realized he was rambling, he busied his mouth in other ways. He kissed your neck, careful not to leave marks, before moving down to the valley of your breasts where he continued his work. The way he lowered himself onto you pushed his cock in even deeper, something you didn’t think was possible. 

His lips were warm. They were so warm. Each kiss felt like you were touching the sun. You could feel the heat against your skin even as he moved away, pressing kisses elsewhere. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Minho asked. 

You hadn’t even realized that you had been smiling, or that he had stopped kissing you. He was going faster now too. You hadn’t noticed that either. You were far too gone, clearly.

“Feels good,” was as much as you could manage, but that seemed to satisfy Minho. 

“Yeah? Have I fucked you dumb already?” he cooed condescendingly. 

You nodded. “Feels sooo good. Feel so full.”

You’d be embarrassed by your barely-comprehensible sentences, but you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure in that moment. You doubted you’d even remember what you said in the morning. 

“You close again, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Fuck, me too. I’ll get you there, though. I’ll make you feel even better.”

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and used his thumb to rub somewhat uncoordinated circles on it. He was gentler than he had been before, like he knew you were still sensitive from cumming the first time. The added stimulation brought you back to the edge in record time and all you could do to alert Minho of what was happening was frantically grab his bicep and squeeze it repeatedly.

“Gonna cum? Go ahead, baby.”

Your entire body tensed as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Minho fucked you through it again, announcing that he was cumming right as you started to come down. Watching his face scrunch up in pleasure as he came was almost enough to send you into a third orgasm. His eyes shut and his mouth fell open into an O shape as his hips faltered. He didn’t stop thrusting until he was certain he’d given you every last drop of his cum, choking out a string of curses followed by your name through gritted teeth. 

He collapsed on top of you seconds later, completely spent and still inside of you. 

“Fuck, that was good,” he panted. You nodded in agreement, wincing when you felt him pull out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jelly.”

“Would another orgasm help?”

“No,” you groaned. “I can’t take another one.”

“I was kidding. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your room.”

“Nooo, I’m tired,” you whined. 

“I know, I know,” he said softly, “but you can’t sleep here. Unless you want Jisung to find out?”

“Fine,” you mumbled. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear him moving around the hotel room. “Just give me like five minutes to nap.”

“You know I can’t do that.” When you opened your eyes he was wearing pants again and standing beside the bed waiting for you. “You need to shower. And pee. A UTI in the middle of vacation would really suck.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You knew that before sleeping with me.”

“Yeah, and I still did it anyway. Now, get up.”

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered under your breath, repeating the sentiment you had already voiced. Minho just chuckled and helped you to your feet.

“You seemed to like that earlier.”

“Yeah, when you were making me cum.”

“Well, I won’t be able to make you cum anymore if you contract an infection. So I have to be bossy or else you won’t listen.” 

“Or else you won’t listen,” you mocked. 

Minho grinned despite himself and shook his head at you. “We should’ve started doing this way sooner.”

hope y'all liked this one :) lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[skyeet-the-writer]

The One With the Girl from Canada

while im cleaning out my drafts, here's something from a few months ago. i really like this and i've written and are currently writing some more little chapters, so be on the lookout for them!! this is also posted on my ao3 if you want to go read it there too :) chandler bing x female!reader summary: new york city is a big place for a girl who lived in canada her entire life, but you manage. one afternoon, while getting some work done in a cozy coffee shop, a very handsome brunette asks to sit beside you. who are you to tell him no? word count: ~2.3k warnings: none i don't think lmao that never happens next>

Central Perk is a special spot for Chandler Bing. That's where he talks with his friends, it's where they all relax, it's where he met Rachel just a couple of months ago, coming in wearing a wedding dress and looking highly frazzled. It's got a nice, calming atmosphere, pretty good coffee, and the absolute best spot in all of Manhattan.

The area with the couch is where he and his friends always sit. Sometimes he feels bad for taking it, but nobody seems to mind, ever. And so he always sits there, usually on the couch when it is available.

When he walked into Central Perk one afternoon after work, he just wanted to grab a coffee and wait for the rest of his friends to show up eventually. He didn't expect there to be anyone there, no one ever was at this time on a Thursday.

But then he saw someone sitting in his spot.

Normally, he would have been upset, probably ask them to leave, nicely, of course, and pray to God that they left because he hates confrontation.

However, the person sitting in his spot was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She looked like she had been there for a few hours, at least, because there was an empty plate with crumbs on it and a large mug drained, both sitting on the coffee table her feet were propped up on.

For a moment, Chandler stood at the counter and stared at her like some kind of creep. He had never seen her around and he knew he'd remember if he did. She wore gray jeans rolled up at the ankles to show off her colorful socks underneath a pair of black and white Converses. As his eyes traveled up her frame, he saw her wearing some kind of band tee and a tiny, silver necklace around her neck. She seemed to be writing something and, from what Chandler could tell, she seemed to be deep into thought. Her pencil scratched across the notebook and every so often, she would pause and read over it before promptly erasing something and writing once more.

He heard his name being said and turned around to see Guther holding out a coffee cup to him.

"Oh, thanks, Gunther," he told the worker, taking the coffee from him.

Chandler had never been good at talking to girls and more often than not chickened out on the opportunity to do so. But he didn't want to chicken out on talking to you.

And so, with confidence, he walked over to the area he always sat at and stood just beside the couch, next to your arm that was leaning on the armrest.

Before now, he didn't notice the headphones around your ears and the Walkman that sat beside you, but when he clears his throat and you don't react, he understands why. And so, again and a little bit louder, he clears his throat, gently tapping on your shoulder.

Your eyes tear away from the page in your lap at the touch of another person and you whip your head up to see a man standing beside you, looking at you with a smile. Perhaps too loudly, you exclaim, "Oh, shit, sorry!" and hastily pause your music and let the headphones rest around your neck. You blink up at the man and ask, "Yes?"

"I, uh." Chandler swallows thickly because even your voice is one from a dream. "You're, uh, kind of in my spot."

With a mischievous smile, you turn around in your seat like you're looking for something. "Oh, word? I don't see your name on it."

And then you smile at him snarkily and Chandler forgets how to breathe. But then he laughs, a bit awkwardly. Your sarcastic grin fades into a true one and you add, "Don't worry, I'll move."

When you start to gather your things, Chandler is quick to put a stop to it. He doesn't want you to move, not now, not ever. Not when he's just started to talk to you. "No, no, you're fine, I'm just kidding."

You stop your movements and look up at him. "Oh, alright. You can sit next to me, though."

Chandler doesn't have to be told twice. He sits beside you on the opposite side of the couch and takes a drink of his coffee like that will do anything to cure his jitters.

"What's your name?" you ask him, setting your notebook in your lap for just a moment. You wonder if he wants to have a conversation, but not many people in New York do.

He answers, "Chandler."

"Nice to meet you, Chandler. I'm y/n."

God, even your name sounds like something from a song.

"It's nice to meet you, too, y/n." He takes notice of the notebook in your lap and feels the urge to ask, "Mind if I ask what you're writing?"

With another grin, you say, "What if I did?"

Chandler can only wonder if your smile is contagious because he feels his lips curl upwards. "I mean, I'd still ask. I'm nosey."

You laugh and tilt your notebook for him to read. "It's a screenplay I'm writing."

Chandler's eyes widen. "You're a screenwriter? What, you make movies and stuff?"

"I wish." You scoff and feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. "No, I write stories for movies and stuff. At least, I try."

"Is it not going so well?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Some studio called me up a few months ago, said they liked the idea I submitted and gave me a few months to come up with a first draft. And I've got two more weeks to finish it, so we'll see."

"I'm sure it's great," Chandler says and he means it. He can't write for shit, but something about you seems so...creative and special. "Even if I just met you."

You laugh again and close the notebook, stashing it away in the tote bag that rests on the floor. "Thanks, really."

"Of course." When you turn your body to face him, he sees what band is on your shirt and, even though he knows who it is, he asks, "What band is that?"

When he points to your chest, you look down and answer, "Oh, Nirvana."

"Oh, my God, I love them!"

"Really?" Your face breaks into a grin and you lean forwards a little. "What's your favorite song."

"'Heart-Shaped Box'," he says.

"Oh, that's good. I like 'Come As You Are'."

Soon, the conversation seems to flow quite naturally between the pair of you. He tells you about his boring job, something with a bunch of numbers and nothing exciting. You both compare bands and he realizes you're much more into rock and alternative works, but he guessed that the second he saw the leather jacket that rests beside you.

Joey is the first to arrive. Chandler glances up at the door when he hears the bell above it jingle and sees his roommate falter at the sight of you. You're not looking, rummaging through your tote bag for something and Chandler's eyes widen at the sight of the other person. If Joey flirts with you, Chandler will kill him.

Joey, clearly not catching on to Chandler's look from across the cafe, sees you and smirks, walking over.

"Hey, Chandler," he greets but doesn't look at his friend, eyes settling on you. "Who's, uh, your friend?"

You turn up at the sound of another person and spot the Italian-American smiling at you. You smile back and say, "I'm y/n."

"How you doin'?" Joey smirks and sits himself down on the high stool beside you. "I'm Joey."

"Hi, Joey," you reply, glancing at Chandler who quickly wipes the glare from his face and smiles at you. "You guys know each other?"

"We're roommates," he answers, motioning at his friend who is still staring at you.

You blink and shift in your seat. "Oh."

"I like your shirt," Joey says.

"You like Nirvana, too?" Your face brightens and Chandler almost melts.

But then his roommate says, "Who?"

And that look on your face is gone. Your smile falls and you look away back into your tote, mumbling, "Never mind."

Chandler meets his friend's eyes and shakes his head twice, brows furrowed. Joey always gets the girl. Chandler deserves to hope, at least.

You pull out a packet of gum and open it. You take a piece out and unwrap it before offering one to Chandler. He smiles and takes it, popping it in his mouth and shoving the wrapper in his pocket.

"Want some gum?" you ask the other man with darker and messier hair.

He takes one and thanks you. You return it with a grin and put the gum back in your tote, on top of your notebook.

Joey says your name and you look at him. "So, you live around here?"

You nod. "Yeah, I live in Hell's Kitchen."

"Oh, cool, cool. How long have you lived here? You grew up in New York?"

Immediately, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no, I didn't grow up here."

"Where'd you grow up?" Chandler asks, tilting his head

"Winnipeg," you answer, biting back a smile.

Chandler's brows furrow and Joey asks, "Where's that?"

"Manitoba." Your straight cracks a bit and you try to fight the smile that wants to paint itself across your lips.

Joey looks lost and asks again, "...Where's that?"

"Canada," you tell him, fully grinning now.

Joey gasps and Chandler tries not to roll his eyes. He figured it out when you said Manitoba. He says, "You're from Canada?"

You nod, turning your head to look at him. "Yep."

"Do you speak French?" Joey asks, touching your arm, clearly already friendly with you.

Turning to him, you answer, "Non."

Chandler laughs and you giggle, crossing one leg over the other.

"I speak Italian," Joey says.

You raise a brow. "Yeah?"

He nods and leans forward in his chair, smirking. "Sei bellissima."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're beautiful," he answers, voice a little lower than it was before.

Some heat rushes up your neck and you look away at your lap. "Oh."

Chandler glares at his friend, but Joey doesn't catch it.

Thankfully, before Chandler reaches over you to choke Joey, the bell dings and he glances at the door. Monica, Ross, Phoebe, and Rachel are walking in and while the rest of his friends make their way over, Rachel immediately goes to clock in for her shift.

They walk over and greet the other two and Phoebe is the first to address you. "Oh, wow, you're pretty."

You laugh out loud, blushing even harder at the compliment from a woman, touching your necklace. "Thank you. I like your skirt."

Phoebe giggles and swishes her skirt. "Thanks."

"This is y/n," Chandler introduces you to his friends.

"Hey." You lift your hand in a wave of sorts, feeling like you're butting in on their group. You should leave, but in a minute. You don't want to be rude.

Chandler's friends introduce themselves--Ross, Monica, and Phoebe, you repeat their names in your head to remember better--and then he gestures towards the coffee bar. "And the girl over there is Rachel."

"It's nice to meet you guys," you say politely, squeezing your hands in your lap.

"You too." Monica smiles. "I love your shirt, by the way."

"Thanks." You grin, basking in all the compliments.

Ross looks at Monica and asks, "You listen to Nirvana?"

Monica fixes him with a look. "Yes, because I'm cooler than you."

You chuckle at their interaction when Joey suddenly blurts out, "Ask her where she's from!"

You giggle at the man's antics and look at the others.

Ross smiles and asks, "Alright. Where are you from?"

"Winnipeg," you reply, still smiling. Chandler thinks he's going to swoon.

Monica is the first to figure it out. "You live in Canada?"

You nod. "I mean, I used to. I moved to Hell's Kitchen a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, my god, so you just moved here," Chandler says.

"Why did you move all the way from Canada down to here?" Ross wonders.

"I'm a screenwriter and ended up getting a job down here," you answer. "Besides, Canada is boring, so I was looking for a change of scenery."

"Well, how do you like it here so far?" Phoebe asks.

You shrug. "It's pretty nice. A little colder, somehow, but I like it. There are a lot more people and a lot more things to do and see. I lived in Winnipeg my entire life so I kind of felt like I saw everything."

"I've always wanted to go to Canada," Rachel says, coming to hand out coffee.

You smile. "It's nice. Alberta is really pretty."

Mustering up some courage, Chandler says, "Hey, if you ever need someone to show you around the city, I'll be happy to help you."

And then you look at him and grin, nodding. "That'd be sick."

He feels heat start to creep up his cheeks, and he smiles back. "Awesome."

You look at the time on the clock and say, "I've got to head out, but it was great to meet you guys."

"Yeah, you too!" Monica says.

Taking a Post-it note from your bag, you write down your number and hand it to Chandler. He takes it and tries not to stare at it too hard. "Hope to catch you guys later."

Chandler's friends wave to you and you walk out the door, shrugging your jacket on before walking off. Chandler stares at the window for several seconds after you're gone and only snaps out of it when Monica says something.

"Chandler, how the hell did you get her number?"

He shrugs, looks at the bright blue Post-it note, and reads it.

here :) (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

He smiles and puts it in his pocket, trying to ignore the looks his friends are giving him. You're very cool and very pretty and Chandler can't wait to see you again.

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter eight | wc: 5.7k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Lia and Noah go to couples therapy. Noah and Lia spend a cozy evening in her studio. Reading time: 22mins. aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: therapy, talks of mental health, ptsd, anxiety, insecurities, self-doubt, mentions of parents' neglect, abandonment, mentions of medication and lia's overdose, mentions of lia's abusive relationship with mitch, mentions of alcohol intake, talks of sex, implied sexual scenarios that include oral sex (female receiving) and protected sex. The rest is pure fluff, noah and lia being totally madly in love with each other and being supportive of each other's works. There's blindfolding going on in this chapter but it's not in a sexual scenario. If I'm missing sth, let me know. The therapy scene took me ages to write.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Have you found any hobby; any activity that helps soothe your anxiety?”

Lia processed Dr. Reynolds question, thinking back over the past few days: rejoining her long-missed yoga classes, meeting Emery for coffee on Thursday, catching up with the BO crew to discuss tour logistics and merch-related stuff, drawing, packing for Japan…

After a brief pause, Lia replied, 

“Sex.”

As soon as the word left her lips, her face flushed. Sitting next to her in the other armchair, Noah remained still, his eyes wide in surprise at her response, though he didn't look directly at her. His cheeks were tinged pink as well.

Dr. Reynolds immediately noticed their reactions, especially the way Noah quickly avoided eye contact.

“Okay, there’s no reason to feel embarrassed,” she reassured them, raising her hands slightly from her desk, which separated her from the young couple. “Sex is something totally normal and natural, and it’s great for our mental health and well-being.” She waited a few seconds until she saw Noah’s shoulders relax and Lia let out a sigh. “Tell me, Lia, how do you feel when you’re physically intimate with Noah?”

Lia raised an eyebrow while still curled up in the armchair.  

“Mentally, emotionally,” Dr. Reynolds clarified, a genuine soft smile on her lips.

“Umm,” Lia’s mind wandered to their first time—both drunk and needy for each other. She remembered it had felt good, but she didn’t want to dwell on that night, since it was followed by the worst weeks of her life. Instead, she thought about the last few days, about every time Noah had covered her with his body or laid her down on the sofa, his face sinking between her legs. She had never put into words how it felt, aside from when Noah asked if she liked what he was doing to her, or the previous night, when she’d been sitting on his lap, arms and legs wrapped around him, and he had asked if that posture felt good. She had breathlessly muttered in his ear that it did, “it feels so good, Noah.”

“It feels good,” she started. 

Better than that. But she didn’t feel comfortable enough to say to her therapist the same she’d told Emery two days ago when they’d met. “It feels like everything’s okay. I feel loved, and I feel safe.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded in understanding. Her dark brown eyes shifted to Noah, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“What about you, Noah?”

Noah cleared his throat.

“Uh, I—”

Fuck. Did he really have to talk about it to that woman? It was hard enough to put into words what he felt, let alone say it out loud to a stranger. Still, he wasn’t there just to sit comfortably in that chair, listening to Dr. Reynolds and Lia’s difficult answers. He was there to communicate. Lia had made the effort, and his heart had fluttered when he heard her say how loved and safe he made her feel. The least he could do was the same.  

He replayed images from the day before in his mind: her skin against his, the way she wrapped around him, how warm she felt, the look in her eyes when he flipped them both so he could be on top, thrusting deep inside her.

“It feels like….” He swallowed, avoiding direct eye contact with the therapist. “I’ve always felt that something was missing, and… After things got better between us, I… I felt complete.” He wasn’t talking only about sex. “I feel utterly happy when I’m with her, not just for myself but for her, too. I know I was… I know I am making her happy.” 

Well, that sounded cheesy as fuck, Noah.

Dr. Reynolds gave a gentle nod.

“I think it’s clear that you and Lia have a deep connection. Would you say it’s been like this since you first met?”

Grateful for the shift in topic, he answered quickly. 

“Absolutely,” he said, with certainty. He’d been fighting everyone from the very beginning to show the world that no one knew Lia like he did. Therefore, no one could take care of her the way he could. 

He expected Lia to echo his response, but her mind was somewhere else.  

“I feel so guilty,” she began, directing her words to Dr. Reynolds. “I’ve loved him since I was a kid. All those times I scared off his girlfriends, I was being selfish and a coward. Then, Mitch came and…” she sniffed but held back tears. “I’ve… carried this fear with me my whole life. A fear of never being enough, of not deserving love. I know I always had Noah, but even when I did, I was convinced that it was all some cruel joke, and that as soon as I finally had him, life would rip him away. I couldn’t bear that thought. So, I buried my feelings, blocked them out; I forced myself to believe it wasn’t real, that I wasn’t in love with him. I told myself for months that it was just infatuation, that he had bigger things to focus on and worry about. The band has always meant everything to him and…”

“That’s not—” Noah started, but Dr. Reynolds raised a gentle hand to quiet him. 

“I kept pushing him away, again and again. I know I hurt him. I know he loves me, but the guilt is suffocating. I’ve put him through so much.”

Dr. Reynolds listened intently, her eyes calm and steady, letting the silence linger after Lia’s words. It was a weighty silence, one that felt like a deep exhale after too many years of holding it all in. Lia’s hands trembled slightly in her lap.

 “That weight has always been there,” she continued through clenched teeth. “I’ve always sabotaged things before they could go wrong, merely because I was convinced they would go wrong.”

Noah shifted beside her. He wanted to reach out, to hold her hand, but the heaviness of the moment kept him still. He hated hearing her talk like that, as if she was the villain in their story. He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her she didn’t need to feel guilty, but something in Dr. Reynolds’ gaze made him hold back once again.

“Lia, what you’re describing is a fear many people experience when they’ve been hurt before or when they deeply value something. We’ve talked about this, remember? It’s called self-preservation. You and Noah have been friends since you were kids. You’ve been attached to him most of your life. He’s been your constant, so it makes sense you’d fear losing him. That fear made you protect yourself, even when there wasn’t a real threat.”

Lia swallowed, her eyes glassy as she fought back tears. 

“But I pushed him away. I hurt him when I should have trusted him.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded. 

“I understand. But what’s important now is recognizing that your feelings of guilt are part of that same fear. You’re punishing yourself for something that, at the time, you thought was the right thing to do. You didn’t want to lose him, and pushing him away was your way of safeguarding your heart.”

Noah’s jaw clenched. He had been so frustrated with Lia over the years, but sitting here now, listening to her talk about her fear of losing him… he realized he understood that fear all too well. 

He wished she could see what he had always known, that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Lia turned to him, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

He leaned towards her, her shoulder almost brushing hers. 

“You were never a burden and you know that,” Noah said quietly. “I’ve always wanted you around. You make me happy. You always have.”

Dr. Reynolds leaned back in her chair, giving them a moment to let that sink in.  

“Lia,” she said after a short while”, I want you to delve deeper into that fear. Do you think it's why you've always stopped yourself from doing certain things? Like telling Noah you loved him?"

Lia hesitated, her breath catching as memories flashed through her mind.

“Yes,” she exhaled. “Everything has been because of fear. Deep down, I always knew I loved him, but I was terrified of what that meant. If I admitted to myself that I was in love with him, with my best friend, everything would change. And… if I let myself love him fully, the risk of losing him would become real. I couldn’t handle that.” She made a pause to take a deep breath. “I fough hard to convince myself it was just infatuation—that it wasn’t as deep as it felt; that I just wanted to be the center of his attention because he was so perfect. But I was lying. It was love. I knew it the whole time, and that scared me more than anything.”

Noah felt his heart tighten in his chest. She had been carrying that fear the whole time, while he had been waiting—always waiting—for her to believe he wasn’t going anywhere. 

He reached out, his hand resting gently on hers.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “But I’ve spent so many years convincing myself that loving you was dangerous—that as soon as I let myself have you, I’d lose you.”

Dr. Reynolds kept on jotting down notes on her notepad before speaking again. 

“Lia, that’s a common reaction when someone is deeply afraid of loss. You never had a paternal figure, you mother didn’t provide you with the care and attention you deserved. Then, the people closest to you—Noah’s grandparents— also moved away. You mentioned this not long ago, right? When Noah’s grandfather passed away, his grandmother decided to return to Japan, and you felt that as a loss, too, as a kind of abandonment.”

“I know it wasn’t,” Lia said, her posture stiffening, discomfort creeping in as if she didn’t like the truth of it. “But I couldn’t stop myself from feeling it that way. Then I only had Noah... and I guess my attachment to him grew even more.”

“Of course. It makes sense, Lia. You’ve loved Noah since you were merely a kid—first as a friend, then as something more—so much that you feared the very thing you wanted most: being with him. But now that you’ve faced that fear, it’s important to remember that love isn’t something you need to protect yourself from.”

Dr. Reynolds let the words settle between them before leaning in, her gaze moving between Noah and Lia.

“Noah, I think you’ve been carrying your own set of feelings for a long time, too. While Lia was dealing with her fears, you were facing a different struggle, trying to support her. Isn’t that right?”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the familiar knot of tension there. He didn’t love talking about himself—he never did—but he knew today wasn’t the time to hold back.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’ve always felt like I had to prove myself, even with her. I’ve always been scared of not being enough for her. Like, maybe one day she’d realize I’m not this perfect guy she thinks I am. And, I guess that fear made me hold back sometimes, too.”

 “You both have been trying to protect each other in different ways—Lia by pushing you away, and Noah by trying to be perfect. But what’s clear is that the connection you two have, the love between you, has never really faltered. Even when you were afraid or apart, you didn’t let go.”

Lia wiped a tear from her cheek, processing the Dr.’s words. She turned to look at Noah, who was watching her with an intensity that made her heart ache. Without a word, she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to make you feel like you had to prove yourself.”

Noah shook his head.

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re together now. We’ll figure this out—together.”

Dr. Reynolds leaned back, her gaze warm and understanding. 

“Both of you have been carrying fears and doubts for a long time, but you’re both ready to face them—together. Your connection, this love, is strong enough to handle the uncertainty. You’ve already proven that.”

Lia wiped at her eyes, nodding. The guilt hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it had loosened its grip. She wasn’t alone in this, and that was enough for now.

Dr. Reynolds shifted slightly in her chair, her expression softening as she turned her attention to Lia. 

“Lia, I want to acknowledge the progress you’ve made. You’ve been through an incredibly tough journey, not just emotionally but physically as well. The abuse you suffered in your previous relationship, the trauma from your childhood—growing up without a father and with a neglectful mother—those are heavy burdens. And on top of that, you’ve struggled with your relationship to medication.”

Lia glanced down, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. That was going to be a long day. She was sure the moment she got home, she would collapse into bed, terribly exhausted. The weight of everything she’d gone through still felt fresh at times, and talking about it was like watching it play on a TV, or worse—reviving it. 

“The meds did help at first,” she explained, “but then I got lost in them. I was dependent on them, and I started taking more than what I was prescribed.” Her voice quieted, as if confessing. Dr. Reynolds already knew, but she had told Lia a few times how important it was for her to verbalize it until it didn’t trigger her anymore. “I was using them to escape.”

 “That overdose was a wake-up call,” Dr. Reynolds said. Noah winced at the mention of it. “But what matters is that you’ve taken steps toward healing since then. You’ve made a brave choice in deciding to taper off the medication, and even though it’s not easy, it’s clear that you’re managing much better now, especially with the positive changes in your life.”

Lia’s gaze flickered to Noah, who gave her a reassuring smile. 

“It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “The withdrawal was terrible at first, and I didn’t think I could handle it. But things have been different… better since Noah and I started working things out. Being with him, in a healthy way, makes me feel like I don’t need the meds to be okay.”

Dr. Reynolds smiled warmly, her eyes filled with encouragement. 

“You’re taking control of your life, Lia. You’re moving away from dependency, both on the medication and on the emotional crutches you once used to cope with all the pain. And that’s an incredible achievement. You’re learning to rely on healthier mechanisms—your relationship with Noah, your art, and most importantly, yourself.”

Lia felt a lightness in her chest, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The meds had numbed her for so long that she hadn’t trusted her own emotions or ability to cope without them. But now, without that fog, she was starting to feel everything—both the good and the bad—and it wasn’t as overwhelming as she’d feared. 

“I still have bad days, but… I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore,” she said quietly. “Noah helps, but I think I’m helping myself, too.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded, pride evident in her expression. 

“That’s exactly what I want to hear. It’s not about never feeling anxious or sad again—it’s about learning to face those feelings without needing to numb them. You’ve proven to yourself that you can. And having a supportive partner like Noah is a huge help, but ultimately, the strength you’re finding is coming from within you.”

Noah’s hand tightened around hers. She wasn’t fixed, but for the first time in years, she didn’t feel broken either. She was healing—slowly, but surely.

Dr. Reynolds closed her notebook. 

“Keep going, Lia. You’re on the right path. You’ve come a long way, and it’s clear you’re capable of even more. The fact that you’re doing this—getting off the meds, facing your fears, building a healthier relationship with Noah—it’s all a testament to your resilience. You will get better.”

Lia nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. For the first time, she believed it.

As they stood to leave, Noah slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. 

Once out of the elevator and onto the street, Lia hurried toward the car, eager to get home. But before she could, Noah grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. He cupped her face in his hands, and without a word, leaned in and kissed her deeply, ignoring the people passing by and the noise of the street around them.

When he pulled back, Lia was breathless, her wide eyes gazing up at him, a spark of something new and beautiful shining in them.

“Whatever happened—whatever will happen—I don’t care. We’ll face it together. I’m not letting you go, Lia.”

She wanted to say, I’m not letting you go, either, but the words wouldn’t come. She was too awestruck by his closeness, overwhelmed by the love she felt for him and the weight of everything that had surfaced in therapy. So, instead, she just stared at him, her heart full.

Standing on her tiptoes, she grabbed two fistfuls of his hoodie and kissed him back, pouring everything she couldn’t say into the kiss. After a few moments, Noah pulled away, looking down at her with a soft intensity.

“Lia, am I clear?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He gently tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned down for another kiss, this one soft, reassuring. When he finally pulled away, he took her hand in his.

“Let’s go home. That was exhausting.”

A week later 

Every couple of minutes, Lia would push a stray lock of hair behind her ear, only for it to fall back into place again. She was sat cross-legged on the floor, her sketchbook balanced on her knee. Her pencil moved in quick strokes, pausing every so often as she bit her lip in concentration, only to resume with a renewed burst of energy. 

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm streaks of golden light across the studio floor that reached the other end of the room, where Noah was sitting at the desk, focused on the apps open on his laptop and on Lia’s iMac. 

He’d brought over two mugs of hot chocolate earlier, one of which still steamed next to her on the floor, while his sat neglected on the desk. They had spent most of the morning out of the house—Noah had gone to the gym and then had met the boys at the studio while Lia had gone to one of her yoga sessions, then had met Emery at a nearby Starbucks. In just three days, they would be flying to Japan for the Bad Omens tour, followed by a well-deserved two-week rest at Grandma’s house, in the outskirts of Tokyo. 

Noah’s mind had started to feel mushy in the last thirty minutes. Growing distracted, he stole a glance at Lia, watching her as she worked. Her focus, the way she’d push that same strand of hair away from her face, the way her brow furrowed... Eventually, feeling his mind grow too fuzzy, he stood up, muttering something about needing to wash his face.

When he returned to the studio, Lia was in the same position, still immersed in her sketching with her back towards the door. Without saying a word, Noah walked over and sat behind her, sliding his legs around her body as he leaned in close. Tempted, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss in her hair. Then another one further below. And another one right below her ear. Lia squirmed in his arms but kept her pencil moving.

“Noah,” she mumbled, her lips curling into a half-smile, half-protest.

He didn’t answer, trailing another slow kiss down to the nape of her neck. Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed, a small laugh escaping her. 

“Stop,” she said, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her, as well as the way she titlted her neck to give him more access. 

“You’re not really convincing me,” he teased, brushing her hair aside to kiss the curve of her neck.

Lia twisted in his arms, still trying to focus on her sketchbook, but the pencil faltered as she squirmed again. She laughed, turning her head slightly to glance at him. 

“You’re such a distraction.”

“Guilty as charged,” Noah grinned, wrapping an arm around her middle and pushing her flush against him. He was practically caging her with his body. 

Instead of reaching for his own mug of hot chocolate still sitting on the desk, he lazily grabbed hers, taking a sip.

“Hey! That’s mine,” she protested.

“Yours is closer,” he replied with a shrug, taking another sip before handing it back to her. “What are you working on?” he asked, glancing over at her sketchbook.

Lia flipped through some of the pages, her pencil resting between her fingers. 

“I’ve been sketching ideas for Grandma’s garden,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “You know how much she loves that garden. Last time we were there, I planted some peonies and lilies around the trees by the entrance, remember? I’m thinking of adding more this time.”

Noah leaned closer, peering over her shoulder as she traced her fingers along a delicate sketch of flowers winding around a tree.

“I’ve been imagining how it would look if I added some kiku or fuji seeds. Chrysanthemums and wisteria,” she explained, her eyes lighting up. “And I was thinking… maybe we could place some traditional statues around, or even build a tiny pond.”

Her voice trailed off as she flipped to another page—a rough outline of the garden, filled with plants she had already painted with soft strokes of watercolor. The colors in the drawing—deep pinks from the peonies, pale purples from the lilies—looked almost alive, like they were already blooming.

“Look,” she said, pointing to a part of the sketch where she’d blended purple hues for the wisteria draping from a branch. “I’ve been working on the colors, trying to match how they’d actually look in the garden when they bloom. I can see it in my head—how the sunlight would hit the flowers, the way the colors would change depending on the time of day.”

Noah’s expression softened as he gazed at the painted page. 

“She’s going to love that,” he said, setting his mug down. “And it sounds like a great excuse for us to check out those famous Japanese gardens you wanted to visit last time but didn’t get a chance to.”

Lia’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling as Noah added, “I could even sketch some ideas for the pond, maybe add some stones and other features if we get inspired by those places."

Lia hummed thoughtfully, inspecting her own designs.

“After the tour, we’ll have time to explore more traditional spots—temples, hidden gardens in smaller towns. We can start with the city’s chaos, then unwind in the gardens and parks. Once we’ve soaked in all that inspiration, we can start working on Grandma’s garden," Noah said.

A smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back against his broad chest, feeling the comfort of his warmth.

“I like that plan,” she admitted, smiling. “I’m excited for the shows, but I think I’m more excited about seeing Japan… with you.”

He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. 

“Me too,” he murmured. “And Grandma’s going to love whatever you do to her garden.”

They sat in a peaceful silence for a moment. The room was cozy, filled with the scent of hot chocolate, and Noah’s hand rested warmly on her stomach, his cheek brushing against hers tenderly.

Lia finally broke the silence with a mischievous smile. 

“I have an idea,” she said, untangling herself from his arms and standing up. Noah made a disappointed sound but didn’t question her, merely raising an eyebrow as he watched her disappear into the other room.

When she returned, she held something behind her back, clearly up to no good. Noah’s curiosity piqued.

“What are you planning to do with that?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as she revealed a sleeping mask she’d likely grabbed from her half-packed suitcase.

“Blindfolded drawing challenge” she announced, playfully slapping his shoulder as she sat down in front of him.

Noah grinned, catching on quickly. 

“Hm. Not what I expected, but I’m intrigued. So, do I get to blindfold you?”

“Nah-uh,” she said, keeping the mask out of his reach with a smirk. “I’m blindfolding you. If you’re going to help me with Grandma’s garden, I need to check your drawing kills.”

“I’m an amazing artist, Lia, in case you didn’t know,” he said, puffing his chest in mock pride. 

“Let’s prove it then,” she challenged, eyes sparkling.

“I’m ready to show you the real artist in the room,” Noah replied, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a competition. 

Lia scoffed. 

“Keep your ego in check, Sebastian.”

Lia grabbed her sketchbook and flipped to a blank page.

 “Okay, mister. This is your canvas,” she said, placing it in front of him.

Noah sat up straighter, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as she stepped behind him, slipping the mask snugly over his eyes. Her hands brushed his neck, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Noah’s grin widened.

“You’re not secretly trying to turn me on with this, are you?” he teased.

She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Noah laughed. 

“Alright, alright. Just hand me the weapon of choice.”

Lia placed the pencil in his hand and sat back on her heels, watching as he hovered over the notebook with exaggerated focus. 

“Alright, Picasso, time to show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, here we go,” he declared, setting the tip of the pencil to paper. He started drawing—if you could call it that. His lines were uneven, jagged, the kind of shaky curves you’d expect from someone who had no idea what they were doing.

Lia bit her lip, trying to stifle her laughter as she watched the absolute chaos unfold on the page.

“Are you… drawing a person?” she asked, half-choking on her giggles.

“Obviously!” Noah said with mock indignation. “Can’t you see it? It’s abstract.”

“Sure, sure. Very abstract,” she teased, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing too loudly.

He added a few more crooked lines, lifting the pencil occasionally to think before continuing. When he was finally done, he sat back triumphantly, pulling off the sleeping mask. 

“And… voilà! A masterpiece.”

Lia leaned over to inspect the mess of squiggly circles and jagged lines. It vaguely resembled a potato with stick arms and what might have been a smile—or a grimace. She couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter. 

Noah looked down at it and shook his head, feigning disappointment. 

“Okay, I’ll admit, it��s not exactly what I imagined.” He pointed to one of the misshapen blobs. “That was supposed to be an eye.”

Lia wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. 

“Yeah, I think this guy’s been through something.”

Noah sighed dramatically. 

“I need your artistic genius to fix this. Save my poor little guy.”

Lia laughed again but nodded, taking the pencil from him. 

“Not from there,” he said, opening his legs and gesturing for her to come closer. “Come here.”

She nestled between his limbs, leaning back against his chest. Noah’s arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on her shoulder. The warmth of his embrace made her smile as she began to work, reshaping his scribbles into something recognizable. Her pencil moved, sharpening lines, smoothing out shapes, and adding playful details until Noah’s chaotic doodle turned into a quirky little character with a goofy grin and big, wide eyes.

Noah watched her, his grin softening as he admired the way her hands worked so effortlessly. The look of focus on her face, her gentle smile as she fixed his mess—it was moments like this that made him fall in love with her even more.

When she finished, she leaned back to admire their combined effort. 

“There. Now he’s got some charm.”

“You really are a miracle worker.”

Lia glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with playful pride. 

“I know.”

He reached out and gently moved that stray lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against her cheek as his gaze softened.

“You’re amazing,” he said quietly, his voice low and full of warmth.

Lia’s breath hitched just for a second, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her. 

“So are you,” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Their lips met in a soft kiss, the warmth of the room wrapping around them like a blanket. It was a simple, quiet moment—the kind that felt like the calm before everything changed. In just two days, they would be off to Japan, diving headfirst into the chaos of the tour. But right now, in the quiet of Lia’s studio, it was just the two of them, savoring the comfort and coziness of the evening. 

When they pulled apart, Lia’s fingertips grazed the skin of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that had started to grow.

Noah’s voice broke the comfortable silence.  

“Have you thought about letting others see your work?” 

Lia frowned, her fingers halting, barely brushing his chin.  

“What do you mean?”

“I know you sell your stuff online through your site, but I’m talking about something bigger. Like an exhibition, or maybe an illustrated book? I could help with that. I could write the story—like I did for the Concrete Jungle comics—and you could do the drawings.”

Lia’s shoulders slumped as she considered it, her brow creasing in hesitation.

“I don’t know if I’m qualified for that, Noah.”

“Come on.” He shook his head, not buying her self-doubt. “Your work is amazing. Okay, maybe I’m biased, but have you seen how fast our merch sells—the merch that has your art on it? And every time you put something new up on your store, it’s gone in less than forty-eight hours.” 

When he noticed the hesitation still on her face, he extended an arm in the air, as if to grasp all the piled notebooks and sketchbooks she had stored on her bookshelves and drawers. 

“People need to see all of this, Lia.”

Lia’s brown eyes flickered across the room, her eyes landing on one of the bigger sketchbooks resting against a stack of Bad Omens vinyls.

“Some of them are really dark, Noah.”

“You don’t have to show the dark stuff if you don’t want to—even though darkness is part of life,” he conceded, shrugging his shoulders. “But everything else? Lia, you’re an incredible artist. The things you draw, the ideas you come up with… They’re fascinating, to say the least, and people love seeing fascinating things, whatever it is,” he poked her cheek to get her full attention. “And there’s already a bunch of people that love your art, starting with me and our friends.”

Lia stayed quiet for a moment, her brown eyes searching his, still uncertain but intrigued.

“I already have a lot of work with Bad Omens…” she started, though her tone was more reflective than dismissive.

“Is that an excuse? Seriously? Considering your “boss” is your boyfriend?” 

That made her laugh, easing the tension. She snuggled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the warmth of his body.

“Wouldn’t you like that, though? To exhibit your work? Let the world see what you’ve got tucked away in all those notebooks?” Noah’s voice was low and sincere. “You could even write something, turn it into an illustrated novel or whatever you want.”

Lia looked up at him, and for the first time, there was a glimmer of real possibility in her eyes.

“Yes. Yes, I would,” she said, her voice filled with quiet honesty.

Noah’s excitement was imminent. 

“I can help you with ideas. Maybe I can doodle something and you can improve it if you ever feel stuck or…”

Lia laughed, nudging him playfully. 

“I think you should stick to writing. I’ll handle the art,” she said, picking up the notebook they’d been using and shaking it, the potato drawing that Noah had made still on the page.

“Fair enough,” he agreed, wrapping his arms fully around her, squishing her and prompting her to drop the notebook. “But you can’t deny this was the best blindfolded potato drawing you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll give you that,” she said with a giggle as she felt his lips and nose brush her neck. 

Lia leaned her head back onto his shoulder, and they sat there quietly in the peaceful warmth of her studio, perfectly content just being wrapped up in each other. Noah began swaying them gently, side to side, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her. Outside, the sun had dipped lower, casting a soft, warm glow through the windows, wrapping the room in a golden haze.

“You fit perfectly in my arms,” Noah whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

Lia hummed contentedly, her heart full as she nuzzled her nose against his chin, tenderly.

“Because it’s where I’m meant to be.”

Noah’s heart swelled with something sweet and heavy, like warm honey filling every corner of his chest.

“Right answer,” he teased, before lightly tickling her sides, causing her to squirm and giggle in his grasp, but with no hope of escaping. He held her close, thrilled by her laughter, by the fact that she was his, completely and utterly.

He couldn’t wait to get on that plane and head to Japan, this time with her by his side not just as his best friend, but as his girl. The thought of them wandering through the vibrant cities and tranquil gardens together filled him with an excitement he hadn’t felt before.

He nibbled playfully at her earlobe before murmuring,

“Off to Japan in two days, baby. You ready?”

We're off to Japan in the next chapter, babes!! 🥳

— prev. chapter | chapter nine

🔖 Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 8

chapter 7 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 9

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: when death comes knocking, you can only answer the door.

a/n: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek where do i even start 🥺 i’m just gonna say i’m sorry in advance and leave it at that, but if you read between lines you’ll understand. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! they do keep me motivated. as always, THANK YOU for reading. see you on the other side! x

warnings: 18+, mdni. a LOT of angst and drama incoming. cutesy fluff. established relationship (my babies 😭).  no smut in this one, don’t hate me! mentions of alcoholism and drugs as coping mechanisms. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). clickers steal the show 😖. death everywhere so be warned. swear words. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~5k.

tags aka the drama wagon (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

The patrolling shifts had increased around Chicago River and Interstate 90. The Rioters had allocated more resources to survey the borders of the area their people inhabited. In the following days to your disastrous incursion, clickers’ activity had peaked. They were coming closer, so it was decided to dispatch them as they neared.

You were all tired, but there was no rest for the wicked. They kept on moving eastwards, as if something was calling them. No one had been able to figure out why, but the answer to that question didn’t really matter. You suspected that something happened that night at the hospital ― maybe Sasha and her team did something they shouldn’t have.

You would never know, so you tried to stir your thoughts away from what would remain a mystery.

You rolled on bed, the early morning light shining a ray on your face. You grunted in discomfort. Your whole body ached ― those patrols were physically intense, but also mentally exhausting. After all, the infected had been people. A father, an auntie, a brother-in-law, a loving child… All those stories were lost to the wind, and you just hoped there still were people who remembered them as they had been before succumbing to the fungus.

You pouted ― That wasn’t how you wanted to start your day.

Still sleepy, your hand dabbed the bedsheets on your right, unconsciously looking for him.

Joel wasn’t by your side. You frowned in confusion and sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes. As you got up and walked towards the en-suite, you heard Joel and Tommy talking on the other side of the door, where the living room was.

It was a heated argument ― an everyday occurrence lately. Since you three arrived at Chicago almost five months ago, the brothers appeared to headbutt very often. It didn’t take you long to realise that Tommy’s attitude had gradually changed over time, the alcohol being the main culprit. The bubbly, kind Tommy you had come to meet was buried somewhere underneath that ethanolic stench.

You missed his jests, his nonchalance, his light-heartedness. Buy you did understand him too ― he needed an escape from reality. You all did, really. It was just sad that was his choice of inflicting himself with absent-mindedness.

“You spent the night in the fucking cell, really?”, you heard Joel whisper angrily.

Tommy replied, but his speech was so slurred you couldn’t make out his answer.

“I don’t fucking care for your excuses anymore, Tommy, you need to get your shit together. I need you sober, for fuck’s sake ― the situation is getting dire here, we’ll need to leave soon. In this state, you can barely walk”, you knew Joel was getting frustrated attempting to reason with the younger Miller.

You contained a fatigued sigh ― Joel had tried his best these past months to help Tommy straighten out his path. But you couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped. You just wished Joel understood that. But you knew he wouldn’t give up on his brother so easily. His only living relative.

You sauntered towards the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. You were in the middle of doing so when you heard Joel enter the room. His reflection appeared in the mirror in front of you and you smiled at him, your mouth full of toothpaste. The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly as he placed a heavy hand on the small of your back, his lips brushing your right temple. You closed your eyes at the soothing touch. You quickly bent over to spit the toothpaste and rinse your mouth.

“He’ll come around”, you said as his hand draped around your waist, yours stroking his forearm instinctively.

Joel humphed. “I hope so”, he muttered, his mouth pressed against your crown. “It’s not safe here anymore, darlin’, I think we should head somewhere else”.

“I hear Canada is lovely this time of the year”, you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. His expression didn’t flinch ― worry distorting his rugged, gorgeous face. “I know, I know… Could we wait a few days at least? Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve”, you blinked at him.

He considered it for a few seconds before giving in. “Alright, we’ll leave on the twenty sixth”.

You clapped your hands together, a smile widening your features. Joel cocked an inquiring brow.

“Well, Joyce is throwing a party on Christmas Day at hers and, uhmm, I kinda told her we were coming?”. His brow furrowed even more. “Pretty please?”, you begged, your fingers laced in a prayer.

You knew Joel didn’t like socialising nor big gatherings, but it was just one teeny tiny ask. You flashed your eyelashes at him.

“Okay, it won’t hurt, I guess”, he conceded reluctantly.

With an excited squeal, you turned around in his embrace, circling his neck with your arms. You stood on your tiptoes as Joel leaned forward to kiss you.

The day went by slowly. You had been assigned to the evening patrol ― your hunting duties put on hold until further notice. With all this clickers’ activity, it wasn’t safe to venture out. To your dislike, Joel had been in the afternoon one, so you kissed him goodbye when you took over. At least Tommy was with you.

You were stationed in the bridge on West Madison Street, the Lyric Opera of Chicago to your right. There was a total of ten people in your group, each one of you covering different positions. When clickers approached, you shot them through the rifle scope. It had become a mindless game, like the one you used to play in the arcade when you were younger ― Wolfenstein 3D.

Hours had gone by, and you had been standing up for so long that your feet hurt. You eyed the red, thick metal railing to your left and, with a little jump, you sat on top ― your legs dangling in front of you, facing southwards and the rifle conveniently placed on your lap. Tommy joined you a few minutes later.

He remained silent and so did you. Although he was somewhat sober, you could smell the alcohol on him. It was bad enough that he drank himself to oblivion in his free time, but it was not great he came to patrol with dulled senses.

You took a deep breath.

“Your brother needs you, y’know?”, you said with resignation. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, but you could see the pain in them. “We’ll be leaving in three days, Tommy, and we both need you. This reckless path of yours could have dreadful consequences, not only for us, but for yourself… We are both here to help you out, but you’re shutting us out ― Joel is worried sick and, to be honest, so am I. And I get it, this world sucks… but you’ve got us. The people you are meeting up with… They aren’t good for you.”

He didn’t say a word for a long minute. It was probably not fair of you to pester him with your not-so-uplifting speech, but he needed to hear it. As much as you liked Tommy, what troubled you the most was that it would destroy Joel if he lost Tommy too. It had taken him a long time to open up, to start living again, and Tommy was undoing all that hard work Joel had put in.

He sighed heavily, turning to look at you.

“Do I? And please don’t get me wrong ― I’m happy for both of you. But you’ve got Joel and Joel’s got you. Again, nothing wrong with that, but it sometimes feels lonely, y’know? That’s what drove me to Laney and her group, they get me. Yeah, sure, the alcohol, the drugs ― it ain’t great, but it helps. But I know I need to get my shit together, believe me, I do, it’s just… hard”, he shrugged.

Your eyes softened, downcast expression. You knew you were just brushing the surface; it wasn’t just that he felt left out. This new world was devastating, it toyed with your mind, making you believe things that were never really there ― a figment of your imagination, of your worst fears.

You palmed his forearm to cheer him up.

“As hard as it is, I’m sure you’ll still come out the other end just fine”, you smiled, but he was evading your eyes. “You only need to reach out, Tommy. We’re here for whatever you need of us.”

You got home past midnight. You were so worn out, you just whispered goodbye to Tommy and headed towards your shared bedroom with Joel. The handle made a screeching noise, then the door creaked when you pushed it. You scrunched your face in frustration ― you didn’t want to wake Joel up if he had fallen asleep. He had trouble in doing so, his nightmares still haunted him.

You quietly closed the door behind you. The room was dark, the silence only broken by his faint snoring. You grinned ― he did snore, as much as it pained him to admit it. Tiptoeing towards your end of the bed, you scattered your clothes on the floor. Only wearing your panties, you sneaked under the bedsheets. There was no heating, but Joel’s body radiated enough warmth to keep you both cozy for the whole night ― so you curled up against his back, nipples grazing his bare skin, your left arm around his waist and your hand gently pressed against his chest. You could feel his ribcage raising with every breath he took.

He lulled you to sleep, your mind slowly drifting away. He really was your safe haven.

You smiled absentmindedly, a snug sentiment weighing in your belly. You kissed him where his shoulder blades met and whispered, “I love you.”

Maybe he dreamt it. He was not sure.

Maybe his unconsciousness made it up. He was not sure.

However it came to be, that “I love you” had been haunting his mind the whole day. His chest felt tight, a longing ache lodged in his core. Joel had not been able to get rid of that feeling ― being honest, he didn’t want it to disappear. As much as it was painful, it was also hopeful.

His heart fluttered with yearning at the memory, only coming back to reality when you elbowed his side. He had not heard what you said, but your features had lit up with your laugh. The biggest muscle in his chest skipped a beat at such beautiful melody.

“I bet you were the taciturn type as a kid, right, Joel?”, Joyce asked him, question marks dancing in her pupils.

“I was a normal, boring kid. Played a bit of baseball and went on a few fishing trips with our old man, but that’s about it. So yeah, I guess taciturn covers it”, he replied, spooning the stew into his mouth.

Tommy huffed taking a sip of the moonshine in his cup, but didn’t say anything.

The three of you ―Joel, Tommy and yourself― were in the canteen in the Art Institute of Chicago. Joyce, her granddaughter Ava, Walter and a few others were sat around the table, everyone sharing funny snippets of their childhood. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, which seemed to have lightened the mood a bit, some people had even sang some Christmas carols.

“What about you, sweet pea?”, Joyce turned her attention to you.

“I was a weird kid”, you admitted with a laugh. “Used to love bugs, and I really mean love bugs. I had a huge terrarium, a beautiful ant’s nest. I used to go out and picked some of them off the anthill in our backyard to bring them to my colony. Not gonna lie, it was fascinating seeing how the ants would work together to build their little glass community”, you shared while devouring Joyce’s stew. “Then one day, quite a few ants bit me as I was trying to relocate them to a different part of the terrarium, and they fucked me up real bad. Got a terrible infection, was in hospital for two weeks. When I came back, the whole colony was dead, my parents didn’t even let me have a look at it. It was heartbreaking. After that, I steered clear of any type of bugs. I cared for them, even named every one of them, and that’s how they paid me in return? Little bastards”, you cackled, shaking your head.

“You were indeed weird, sweetheart”, Joel muttered so low, you thought you were the only one who heard it.

You patted his hand with a chuckle, unconsciously leaning towards him, your shoulders touching. You always gravitated towards Joel, you just couldn’t control it. Your eyes met and you giggled ― his smirk widened.

“Guilty”, you whispered, his hand enveloping yours under the table.

You had forgotten Joyce was sat across you until she cleared her throat.

“So, you two lovebirds are a couple yet, or what?”, her not-so-innocent question caught you completely off guard.

Shit, shit, you thought, almost choking on your food. You had not talked to Joel about what you two really were. You loved him wholeheartedly, but you didn’t need to put a label to your relationship. At least not yet. You didn’t want to pressure him ― you knew Joel would come around when he was ready.

“Uh, well, we…”, you stammered, your heart racing so fast you thought you were going to throw it up in your bowl.

Joel’s hand gripped yours tighter.

“Yeah, we are”, he replied, matter-of-factly.

Your soul literally left your body. You scrutinised his face in awe ― your lips dissevered, sparkly eyes, speechless. A wave of relief washed over you. He did love you; you just knew it in your heart. The immense love you suddenly felt almost throttled you. If your brain was a functioning organ, you would have hugged and reciprocated him ― but your mind was still short-circuiting.

Joel’s hazel eyes held yours prisoner. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he didn’t need to be ― his orbs spoke for him. They were soft, tender, loving. You heard Joyce’s snicker, but your eyes could not leave Joel’s. There were so many things you wanted to say but couldn’t ― your heart was drowning in oxytocin.

“Why do you look so surprised, sweet pea?”, said the older woman, hardly containing a guffaw.

Before you could find any words to answer Joyce, a shrieking cry disrupted the festive atmosphere. People got up a few tables away from you, screaming so loud you couldn’t make out their words.

A few seconds later, another commotion took place but from the other end of the room.

“Infected! They are infected!”, someone shouted.

Panic spread quickly. People started running, cramming around the two exits. Pushing their way out, elbowing anyone in their way with no regards to children or the elderly. Then you saw a young girl in the middle of a circle, people trying to keep their distance from her. You recognised her from the patrols but couldn’t remember her name.

Then she propelled forward, tackling a man to the ground. He screeched loudly, trying to free himself.

“No, get away from me! Aaaarghhh!”, then silence.

You had gotten up. More cries came from the opposite direction, but you didn’t dare to look. Joel’s hand on your shoulder forced you out of your trance, and you turned to look at him.

His expression was a reflection of yours for a fraction of a second. The fear, but then the resolution.

“Move, move, we gotta go. Tommy?!”, his hands were on your back, pushing you to walk in front of him.

The younger Miller went in front of you, gun on hand, to find the way out. Then you remembered the firearm in your belt and swiftly gripped it. You were about to run behind Tommy when you realised. Suddenly stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face Joel. You looked at him intently, then to Joyce and her granddaughter.

You couldn’t leave them behind. Joyce was the best person you had known in a while. She was like family to you. And you had already lost all of your blood relatives. Joel had one look at you and understood you were not going to accept no for an answer.

“Joyce! Ava! C’mon!”, he shouted while approaching them. Joel picked up little Ava in his arms while Joyce ran towards you, thick tears blurring her vision.

You held Joyce’s trembling hand as Tommy guided you out of the building onto South Michigan Avenue. You looked back a few times, ensuring Joel was right behind you. Ava was sobbing loudly, her tiny face against the curve of Joel’s neck, wetting his t-shirt. The fearful look in his eyes told you a sad story ― you knew exactly who he was thinking of. A gut-wrenching feeling sat in the pit of your stomach.

The streets were crammed with people, everyone screaming names at the top of their lungs. You recognised a few faces: Walter, Eric and his mother, Troy, Kelsey…

“They’re coming through the bridge on West Adams Street!”, someone wailed.

All of you looked in that direction and saw a massive herd of clickers galloping towards you.

“RUN!”, you shouted at your group, pulling Joyce’s hand.

You all ran northwards, across Millenium Park. You could feel your lungs burning, your brain entering fight-or-flight mode, your heart racing so fast you were on the verge of having a cardiac arrest. But none of that mattered ― you were focused on getting out of there, all of you. Tommy, Joel, Joyce, Ava, yourself. You were going to make it out.

“Go to William Fahey bridge, it’s closer!”, Tommy yelled once on East Wacker Drive.

More clickers were coming towards you from the west ― you heard someone around you say that all the bridges on North Wacker Drive were packed with infected.

“They’re here! THEY’RE COMING!”, Joyce wept.

The whole moment was so hectic, with no time to process what was happening. You all sprinted to the only bridge in the hands of the government ― you had no other option. You were almost halfway through the bridge, just a few yards more and you would be on the other side.

As you were racing, you heard a gunshot behind you. You came to a sudden stop to check, letting go of Joyce’s hand ― Joel had just dispatched a clicker which had come too close.

“Joel! Come on!”, you begged, getting closer to grab him by his free forearm.

Then you saw them. Waves of clickers coming towards you, people falling to their demises. Your eyes widened, terror pumping through your veins. You shot a few of them, your aim perfect. But there were too many to fight, fleeing was your only real option.

“Don’t stop! Let’s fucking go!”, Tommy howled, waving at you.

Then chaos unfolded. Gunshots swirled around you. You all ducked behind a car to avoid the trajectory of the bullets ― the government soldiers were shooting to whoever attempted to cross the bridge, clickers and humans alike.

“Help!”, a cry to your left made you turned around in a panic.

Joyce was flat on her back, fighting off an infected. You couldn’t think, so you just reacted ― you leaped forwards, tackling the clicker. Knelt on top of it, its disgusting teeth snapped close to your hand. You felt a brief pang on your wrist as you lodged a bullet in its forehead.

With tears darkening your vision, you came off it and crawled to Joyce. Her eyes, devoid of life, stared at the cloudy, dusking sky. Her lifeless expression was filled with terror, tears still running down her cheeks. Blood was surging from her neck ― unconsciously, you covered the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“No, Joyce, come on, wake up”, you whispered, grief tugging at your lungs.

She could not be gone just like that. But she was. Joyce was dead.

“Up! Lift the bridge!”, a man’s voice was carried by the wind.

Suddenly, the ground underneath you started moving up, the bridge parting exactly where you were. With no time to think, Joyce’s body rolled off the edge into the river as you tried to hold on to something to avoid the same destiny.

That something was Joel’s firm grip on your arm. His eyes wild with dread, he pulled you up and back into his arms. His trembling breath caressed your temple as he hugged you tightly. You knew he was as scared as you were, albeit for different reasons.

But there was no time for the shock to wear off. Off the corner of your eye, you saw little Ava running towards the edge, kneeling on the border, her tiny hand reaching into the abyss underneath. “Nana! Come back, nana!”, her wailing tone gave you goosebumps.

“No!”, you and Joel shouted at the same time, both lunging forward towards her.

And then she was gone too. The rotten hand of a clicker wrapped around her tiny wrist, and she fell off the bridge. Her piercing shriek was still ringing in your ears.

Joel and you remained flat against the asphalt, disheartened and broken.

“I had to let go of her for one second, you were falling, I―”, his voice faltered, his eyes broadened with remorse, transfixed on the exact spot Ava had disappeared from.

He was reliving his worst nightmare again. Your heart bled for him. For Joyce, for Ava. For yourself.

“Joel, don’t―”, you couldn’t finish. Don’t do this to yourself, you wanted to say.

“Get up! MOVE!”, Tommy shouted.

He had fended off the clickers who made it across the bridge before it was lifted. You hadn’t realised his efforts until you swept your surroundings and saw the bodies littered around you. Joel shook his head to clear his mind, casting off all emotions, and got up to his feet, helping you up in the process.

Then the three of you started running towards East Illinois Street while the government soldiers kept the clickers at bay as some of them tried to jump from one side of the bridge to the other ― this time, at least, they were aiming better than they did before.

You were still in living hell, with no chance to digest what had happened yet. It was like walking blindly through the darkness, unable to find the switch to turn on the lights. Your emotions had deserted you, at least for the time being. You needed to find shelter before you could shatter.

You raced for what felt like hours but was only minutes. You turned the corner on Erie Street, near Northwestern Hospital. The streets were filled with soldiers and uniformed police, shouting directions at the unhinged mass of people who were trying to find cover.

You stopped running, feeling like fire was consuming your lungs. Joel and Tommy stopped too to catch a breath. You bent over, hands on your knees, to aid your uncontrolled breathing ― Joel’s hand rubbed your back.

“Laney, wait up”, you heard Tommy say, and supposed that Laney and her group had made it out too.

You frowned when you saw blood dripping from your inner wrist on to your jeans. You turned your hand around to check the wound out.

Your breath didn’t reach your lungs. Teeth marks were imprinted on your skin, a grotesque sight. Your heart came to a halt, and then it pounded so hard your ears rang.

I’ve been bit, you thought, realisation dawning on you. Fuck, I’m bit.

Even though you were internally panicking like you had never before, you straightened your back and looked at Joel blankly. It felt like it wasn’t you who was talking, as if you were seeing yourself from outside your own body.

“Joel, I’ve been bit”. Your voice didn’t feel yours ― calm, ethereal.

He was watching his brother walk away, and then his eyes darted to yours in less than a second. His pupils were dilated, his nostrils flared, his lips pursed. A vein twitched in his jaw, his anxiety peaking to the highest level possible. You saw his hand shaking when he grabbed your wrist to inspect it himself.

Joel didn’t say a word. He didn’t have time to do so. You hadn’t realised that Tommy had stopped walking towards Laney and had drawn his gun as he was retracing his steps back to where you were.

“Joel, move”, the barrel was pointing at you, his hand steady.

Panic set in. Was he really going to shoot you? Just like that? Like your life didn’t matter at all? Like he wasn’t your esteemed friend? In front of Joel? Was this how you were going to die after all?

Questions flooded your mind, death knocking at your door.

Joel positioned his body in between you and Tommy ― one hand reaching back to keep you behind him, the other one in front of him at waist level, palm down, to keep Tommy away.

“Tommy, please―”, he implored in a hush.

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his features were torn. His defeated tone ate at your conscience.

“She’s been bit, Joel. She ain’t coming with us, she can’t”, as much as Tommy wanted to convey a reassuring tone, he couldn’t.

Why was he talking like you were not there, like if you were already gone?

“Tommy, don’t do this. I lov―”, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Don’t say it, she’s dead”, Tommy cut him off before Joel could finish his appeal. “If you stay, you’re going to die. Come with me please, we’ll go with Laney and her group, we’ll survive this. You will survive this”, he nodded in your direction.

You were “this”. He was telling Joel he would get over you once you were dead. And you wanted him to listen. You were doomed, there was no coming back from this. You had seen people turn ― you had a couple of days tops before you would get lost to the fungus. Some people only lasted hours. If he stayed by your side to see you wither away… it would break him. For good.

“Joel, listen―”, you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his wrist ― a silent plea dying in your lips.

“No, don’t say a word”, he barely looked over his shoulder, unable to face you yet. “Tommy, I can’t. I just can’t”, he said under his breath.

“Choose then. Either you’re coming with me or you’re staying with her. But I won’t stay by your side to see you destroy yourself.”

An anxious knot formed in your throat. Was Tommy really going to make Joel choose between you and him? That was so fucking cruel you couldn’t believe your ears. You gaped, trying to say something, but Joel took a step back which forced you to do the same.

“Tommy, are you fucking serious?”, Joel asked, a shift in his tone from incredulity to betrayal.

“There’s your answer, I guess”, the younger Miller replied angrily.

Tommy simply walked off, not looking back, not even once.

Both Joel and you froze in place for a long minute, trying to wrap your heads around what just happened.

Your eyes drifted back down to the wound. Pus and blood oozed out. Your chest heaved, reality setting in. You were going to die. This was not what you had in mind for Christmas. How could this happen? Why you? Even with your mind racing with trepidation, you didn’t regret killing that clicker. What you lamented was that it had been for naught ― Joyce and Ava were dead.

“Hey, look at me”, Joel’s voice brought you back. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs sweeping away tears you were not aware of. “Look at me”, he repeated.

You looked up at him through damp eyelashes, memorising his face. His beautiful brown eyes were swirling with shock, with pain, with darkness, with guilt, with loss. His jaw was so clenched his lips were just a fine line. You momentarily shut your eyes, nestling your cheek into his hand before kissing his palm and taking a step back.

You could not look at him directly. The pain was too grave, too profound ― so insatiable it was consuming you. “You gotta go, Joel. Tommy is right. I’m… I’m dead. It’s just a matter of days, maybe hours. You can’t stay. You can’t follow me where I’m going.” The words escaped your mouth in shortened bursts, unable to keep a steady tone.

He took a step forward and cupped your chin, forcing your head up. His sad eyes captivated you, pulling you into their orbits, as if you were a tiny meteor dancing around too close to the black hole of his irises.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. Even to the fucking edge of the atlas”, he muttered breathlessly. “I love you, so don’t ask me to leave you behind. I’m staying, till the bitter fucking end”, your heart dropped to your stomach at his confession.

This was not how you had expected things to be. You were supposed to have time with each other, all the time in the fucking world. And that time had just been snatched from you mercilessly.

Life was so fucking unjust.

You couldn’t stop the tears any longer ― they overflowed your waterlines, your vision so smeared you couldn’t see his face anymore. Your head tilted forward, until your face was buried in his chest.

Joel hugged you tightly, feeling like he was starring in a twisted horror movie. A dark void had replaced his heart, which had been completely ripped off his chest. He was barren inside. His breaths were shallow, they didn’t even reach his lungs.

Had he forgotten how to breathe?

“We need to get off the streets”, he managed to mumble, holding your hand and taking you away.