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traumadumpwriter · 21 days ago

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JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, explicit sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Two

Part Four

Part Three:

After the confrontation at your house a night prior, JJ had only been able to see red, quickly pacing past your mum before making his way to the Chateau, kicking over some bins and verbally abusing some kids on his way.

He couldn't believe that you liked him. That you wanted to be with him. The thought stressed him out and made him regret doing whatever he'd done to get you to fall for him.

It wasn't that he didn't like you back. In fact it was quite the opposite - he'd been entirely obsessed with you ever since you'd arrived in the Outer Banks. His issue was that he'd seen up close just how damaged you were, just how sweet and kind you could be, just how much you deserved the world and everything in it - but not him. He wasn't good enough; not cool enough, not smart enough, not clean enough.

"Why him?" He thought. "Of everyone on this island, why him?"

You could've gone for Pope or John B or even one of the Kooks, at least they would treat you right. It might've killed him inside to see, but it would've been better than the pain he was feeling now, knowing that he'd been unintentionally hurting you this whole time, knowing that he was the one who bore the responsibility of your heart.

He stormed into John B's without stopping, going straight for the blunt in the ashtray and then storming back outside. From his behaviour, the Pogues feared for the worst and Kie's eyes were quickly tearing up, panic settling into her chest.

"She's okay, isn't she?" She followed JJ outside in a pleading tone, shortly followed by Pope and John B. "Please say she's okay."

JJ didn't answer, angrily sucking on the blunt and staring out at the sea, his mind racing.

"Answer me JJ! What's happened?" Kie demanded.

"Is she alright? Was she at home?" Pope questioned.

"JJ- fucking answer us man! Is she at the hospital? Is she- is she okay?" John B shouted.

JJ took another sharp drag on the blunt before solemnly answering.

"She's fine. I mean, she's not, but she's alive."

Kie shoved him with some frustration, her tears quickly drying up but her teeth gritting.

"Why the hell would you scare us like that? What happened?"

"We had an argument... I- You were right Kie. It is my fault."

She blinked incredulously, double taking as she tried to suss out what was wrong with the boy.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned angrily.

He took another sharp drag, even sharper this time, ran his hand through his hair and then turned to the Pogues with exasperation.

"Y/N likes me! And I've been a fucking idiot to not see it. I shouldn't have rubbed all those girls in her face. I didn't think she cared, but.. I guess she did."

"So you're saying that like it's a bad thing. I thought you liked her too." John B proclaimed in a confused tone, shooting a look to Pope who had also been aware of JJ's crush.

Kie was kicking herself for not picking up on that, wishing she’d known and she could’ve told you weeks ago - before you even had the chance to get depressed and pick up a pill again. But she didn’t focus on that thought for too long, more focused on your current wellbeing.

"I do, I just- We all know I'm a piece of shit, okay? I don't deserve someone like her. Hopefully she sees that now." JJ tutted, his eyes darting between each of the Pogues.

The uncertainty of his statement made them all nervous. 'Hopefully she sees that now' - what the hell did that mean?

"What do you mean? What did you do?" Kie hissed, her heart in her throat.

"Nothing! I was just rude. I guess I rejected her. Called her a junkie-"

Kie hit him again, seething with the boy at that point.

"What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you do that?" She snapped, grabbing the blunt from his hand and throwing it onto the floor. "Go back there now and tell her you love her! She's probably crying her heart out right now."

JJ shook his head, thinking about picking up the blunt from the ground but not bothering. Weed wasn't strong enough to make him feel better anyway. He wanted to follow Kie's instruction, he wanted to hold you and tell you his truth, but he could think of too many reasons why not to - too many reasons why you were better off without him. The rejection may hurt now but you would get over it. You had plenty of other options. You would get sober again and you would be fine. His issue was that whether he was sober or not, he was never fine.

"Being with me would only fuck up her life more and you all know that! You should just convince her to like someone else, someone whose good for her. I can't do this." JJ protested.

"You're not a bad guy, man. Come on." John B said but JJ just shook his head again, walking towards his motorbike.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Pope scoffed as JJ got onto the bike.

"I told her to turn on her phone. Try calling her again." He said numbly before kick starting the bike and speeding off.

Kie groaned, unsurprised that when she called your phone moments later it didn't go through. She sat melancholically next to Pope, leaning on his shoulder whilst John B stressfully kicked a stick around.

"Well that's not what I was expecting." Pope sighed and then turned to Kie. "How long has Y/N been crushing on JJ exactly?"

She shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know. Forever. But that doesn't matter anyway. I'm worried. It must've taken a lot for her to admit that she likes him, so she's either really manic or.."

"Really high." John B finished her sentence, not looking up from the ground.

"How much do you want to bet it's the second one?" Pope groaned.

"I just don't get why she didn't talk to me if JJ was upsetting her this much. She promised us she'd never use again. She's never broken a promise before." Kie sighed and then stood up. "I'm gonna go to hers. I'm annoyed but.. I'm more worried than anything. I wonder if her mum has clocked on yet… I’ll see you guys tomorrow."

"Love that woman but she's clueless so I doubt it." John B scoffed dryly. "See you tomorrow Kie."

Kie picked up her bike and rode it to your house, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what you could be doing.

"Most likely passed out or crying." She thought, her chest aching as she thought of your pain. You'd been through a lot together, and though she was beyond frustrated with your relapse, she wouldn't stop being your friend because of it.

When Kie eventually knocked on your door, your mum was surprised to open it to her.

"Isn't Y/N at yours? That's where she said she was going. JJ upset her quite a bit earlier." Your mum questioned and Kie was quick to catch on to the lie.

"Oh yeah- yeah she is. She's just so upset right now. She forgot some stuff and I said I would come and get it for her."

"You're so lovely Kie. What would she do without you?" Your mum smiled, letting her in.

When Kie went up to your bedroom and picked up a bag to strengthen her lie, she was concerned to see that your phone was still on your bed. Wherever you'd gone, you hadn't brought it. She turned on the phone in hope that it would give some clue as to where you could be, but all that came through were the missed calls and messages from the Pogues.

Kie couldn't let herself panic though. You were grown enough to look after yourself.

"Maybe she just went on a walk. Or a bike ride even. That's most likely. She probably just went to clear her head. I'll try again tomorrow." Kie thought to herself, but she took the phone anyway, hoping that when you came back you would have to come get it off her. She scrawled a note onto your mirror with an eyeliner from the side; "Got ur phone. P4L. - K"

The next day, Kie waited until the afternoon to leave her house, waiting for your knock on the door that never came. She decided that she would go back to your house and confront you there, but when she arrived there was no one inside. Your mum would be at work - that made sense - but after pounding on your door loud enough to wake you up from whatever slumber you might be in and getting no answer, she started to panic.

All of the worst possibilities sprung into her head - a horrific vision of you overdosed and alone, bent over the toilet and throwing up uncontrollably or even passed out and foaming at the mouth - so she quickly rushed to find the spare key under one of the many plant pots and slammed it into the door. She ran up the stairs, loudly repeating your name as she did, and paced into your room.

"Y/N, please be okay." She said before opening the door, her heart dropping when you weren't in the bed.

Nothing in the room had moved, not the crumpled up bedding, the pile of clothes in the corner nor the note on the mirror. You hadn't come back.

"Shit. Where the fuck is she?" She muttered to herself before pacing around the house, desperately searching for you but finding nothing. "Need to find her."

Now her mind raced to even darker corners. Perhaps you'd fallen into one of the many bodies of water on the island, high and uncoordinated, and drowned. Or maybe you'd crashed your bike into an oncoming vehicle. Maybe you'd passed out somewhere and someone had called an ambulance, or maybe you’d put yourself in danger without even realising it. She had no idea how spot on she was with the last prediction.

Kie had told Pope of her plan to force you to come to hers by keeping your phone, and all of the boys had assumed that the confrontation had been over and done with by that point, so they were confused when she turned up at the Chateau without you.

"Did you speak to YN?" JJ asked, springing up from his seat as soon as he spotted Kie.

He'd hardly slept, tossing around in his bed all night as he thought of all the things he wanted to say to you but couldn't. "It was better this way." He tried to convince himself "She's better off thinking I don't want her. Maybe she didn't even mean what she said. Maybe she was just high." He couldn't push the image of him holding you and loving you from his head though.

"No. She never came to mine." Kie huffed, wheeling her bike over with furrowed brows. "And before you ask - yes I went to hers, she's not there. Doesn't look like she's been home at all since I went there last night."

"So where is she?" John B questioned, his posture tightening.

"Do I look like I know?" Kie snapped. "I'm seriously worried."

"Shit." JJ hissed, instantly jumping into a panic. He was quick and erratic. "Okay. We should all split up and look for her. I'll check the marsh and the forest, Kie you should check figure eight, Pope you check town, and John B you take the boat and check the waters. Report back here in two hours."

He rushed towards his motorbike before anyone could even answer, but stopped in his tracks when Pope suggested a disheartening idea. It was an idea that had occurred to both John B and Kie as soon as JJ had announced his plan, though it didn’t surprise them that he didn’t think of it. He was someone who always lived in a somewhat state of denial.

"Don't you think one of us should check the hospital too? You know, just in case."

JJ swallowed, catching the lump in his throat before it could properly form, and nodded.

"Y-Yeah. You do that." He said without turning around. He wanted to argue - to say that the idea was ridiculous and a waste of time - but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Pope might be right, and if he was... JJ had to cut his thoughts off before they got too hard to bare. He jumped onto his bike and sped off, heading straight to the marshes.

His search was obviously fruitless. He waded through knee high mud and lifted up heavy logs. He dug through thick bushes and climbed up trees. He shouted your name at the top of his lungs and prayed to God that you would appear.

But none of it worked.

By time the two hour mark had hit, he'd searched miles of forestry and worked up quite a sweat. Still, he wouldn't stop until he knew you were safe.

"Maybe one of the others have found her." He thought desperately to himself, jumping on his bike and heading back to the Chateau. They'd all tried to convince themselves with the same hopeful thought and been sorely disappointed when they eventually returned to their friends. JJ was the last to arrive.

"Any luck?" He shouted from his bike before he'd even got off it, springing across the lawn.

The rest of the Pogues were stood in a circle, also damp with sweat and breathing heavily. They looked upset which was understandable given the situation, but JJ felt his heart jump into his throat as he worried that the unimaginable had happened.

"Pope! She wasn't in the hospital, was she?" He asked with urgency, pacing over to the boy.

Pope was breathing heavily, still catching his breath from the run back to the Chateau.

"Pope!" JJ repeated in an almost shout, shaking his friends shoulders.

"No- No." Pope panted out.

"Chill, JJ. None of us had any luck." John B patted him on the back with a sympathetic look.

It didn't calm him down though. Instead he started to anxiously pace, running his hands through his hair and repeating to himself "Think, JJ. Think!"

"She might just be at someone's house. Who knows, she could be having a great time right now while we're thinking the worst." John B suggested which Kie rolled her eyes at.

"The only people she’d ever hang out with other than us are druggie degenerates, so it's not exactly great if she's with them either. Those people wouldn't care if she was on the floor foaming at the mouth."

"Well I don't know what you want me to suggest, Kie! We've looked everywhere else. Should we start banging on the doors of every junkie we know? Because that could take a while!"

As John B and Kie bickered, JJ continued his pacing, racking his mind for ideas until one shot into his head like a bullet.

"Wait-Wait. What did you just say?" He turned to his arguing friends.

"That she's probably with some drugged up degenerate?" John B answered in a sarcastic tone.

"That's it! She's probably at her dealers house. And I know only one scum bag who sells that prescription shit."

JJ ran back to his bike without saying another word, ignoring the questions from the Pogues as he kick started it and sped off - some hope finally in his mind though it was still mostly clouded by worry.

"Should we follow him?" Pope asked.

"Probably." Kie answered, heading towards the Twinkie with a sigh.

It was ten minutes later that JJ pulled up by Barry's house, carefully parking his bike around the corner so that the dealer wouldn't see him. They'd had their fair share of arguments already about JJ's dad and due to this JJ knew that he had a gun. It wouldn't do him any good to get caught on his property.

The blonde paced through the overgrown front lawn and almost jumped for joy when he saw your bike strewn lazily into one of the bushes - the signature ugly green paint instantly catching his eye. You would just be sat on the sofa smoking a joint or something. He could knock on the door, distract Barry without getting shot somehow and get you out of there in no time.

Then the sound of a large vehicle coming towards the house reached his ears, and he quickly ducked around the corner and crouched under one of the windows, anxious to not be caught by one of Barry's customers either. They typically weren't the most reasonable people after all. He was relieved with his decision when Rafe Cameron jumped out of the truck, music blaring and obnoxiously announcing himself as he knocked loudly on the front door.

JJ's ear pricked as he heard Barry's voice from inside, not having realised that the window on the wall above his head was open.

"Shit." The dealer tutted, followed by the sound of a zip. "Why now?"

Barry's breathing was heavy, like he'd been doing exercise, and it peaked JJ's curiosity. Was he working out whilst you watched from the sofa? That would be fucking weird. There was no way you would be lifting weights with him.

JJ listened carefully, waiting for the sound of the front door to open and the start of a passive aggressive conversation between the two men before he stood up and looked in the window. If either of them caught him, that would be a lot of trouble.

He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw through the glass though.

The sound of the zip suddenly made sense, and the heavy breathing. You were there, lying in an unmade bed, stripped naked and seemingly asleep. Even unconscious your face looked so sad and your body looked tired; thin, with random bruises scattered about your limbs and dirty looking hickies on your chest.

Had you let Barry do this? Surely not. Surely you had more self respect than that.

The thought of any other man touching you was enough to make JJ feel upset, let alone a scumbag dealer that he knew you would never have any real feelings for. But then it dawned onto him - that if you hadn't wanted Barry to have sex with you, that didn't make it any better. In fact, it made it a whole lot worse.

It meant that... you'd been tricked or forced or coerced in some way. It meant that you'd been raped. And maybe you didn't even know it. Maybe you were so knocked out that you would have no idea what Barry had done. Maybe he had drugged you on purpose so that he could do it.

JJ's blood boiled, so much so that he felt himself getting physically hotter, his teeth grinding and his fists clenching. He tapped on the window, hoping to get a response from you, but you stayed stiff and still, your eyes closed and your breathing shallow.

How much had you taken? Had he given you something too strong? Did the dealer even know if you were on the boundary of never waking up? Did he care? Either way, there was no way you could've rightfully consented to doing anything sexual with anyone. Not when you were clearly out cold.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." JJ hissed to himself, trying to quickly brainstorm a way to get you out of there without getting killed by Rafe or Barry.

He pulled out his phone and went to text John B before remembering that he'd ran out of data, cursing himself for not paying his bill once again. Then he decided to creep around the back and listen in through another window, hoping that he'd overhear something to help with his plan. All that he heard didn't serve to help though, in fact it made his rage all the more fiery and his brain even less able to come up with a good idea. The desperation was becoming torturous.

"Where's Y/L/N then? I can see her ugly ass bike out the front." Rafe asked in a mocking tone.

"She's in bed, sleeping. What's it to you country club?" Barry answered.

Rafe scoffed. "I caught you mid fuck didn't I? Sorry for being a cock block bro. Can't say I'm not jealous. Bet she's a total freak in the sheets."

JJ could practically hear the smug smirk on Barry's face.

"Yeah, tits like you've never seen. And pussy like a vice grip. You wanna come take a look? She's out cold."

"You already know my answer to that, bro." Rafe chuckled.

JJ's eyes widened, a deep panic settling into his chest. You would be mortified to know that Rafe Cameron had been ogling your exposed form, let alone the potential that Barry might actually let him sleep with you. He ran back around to the other window and banged on it one more time in hopes of waking you up before quickly ducking down again just as the two men entered the room. He couldn't stay down and listen to their crass remarks this time, he couldn't bare it. He had to cause a distraction.

With a rush of inspiration, he picked up a rock and lobbed it at Rafe's truck, creating a loud thud as it dented the exterior. The two degenerates stormed outside at that and JJ heard the sound of a gun clicking.

"What the fuck was that?" Barry muttered whilst Rafe angrily proclaimed "Something dented my ride!"

"If there's anybody out there, you better come out now!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the vacant lot of overgrown swampland.

Then right on cue, the Twinkie pulled around the corner, a very confused looking John B in the drivers seat with Kie and Pope sat behind him. Rafe scoffed something bigoted about the Pogues before stamping over to the van, knocking so hard on the window that he was almost punching it. JJ would've been glad for his friends arrival if not for the pistol in Barry's hand.

"You dented my fucking car. Get the fuck out here!" Rafe demanded as Kie slid open the door, pacing at him with a scowl.

"We didn't do shit to your car. Now where the fuck is Y/N?"

"Didn't do shit? Look at the dent! You're paying for this Kie - since I know you're the only one with any money."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't do. Now tell me where my friend is. I can see her bike there and I swear to god if either of you have hurt her-"

"What are you gonna do? Huh?" Rafe cut her off with an intimidating smirk, stepping so that he was inches from her face. "You can't do shit."

Pope jumped out of the van and quickly got in between them, his nostrils flaring as he eyed the sociopath. John B quickly jumped out too, though before he could open his mouth to say anything Barry had cocked the gun and pointed it at the trio.

"Y/N ain't here. She bought her pills and wondered off into the marsh. Left her bike behind. Now if you want to find her before the gators do, you lot best be on your way."

No one moved an inch, horrified by the revelation of Barry's statement.

"And you just let her go? What is wrong with you? She could be dead!" Pope hissed, an unexpected volume to his voice.

JJ could no longer sit and silently listen knowing that his friends were about to embark on another wild goose chase. You were there, mere feet away. This was their best opportunity to do something before anything else could happen to you.

Feeling that the dealer was sufficiently distracted, JJ decided to fully open the window and climb inside, struggling slightly with the old frame as he pushed it up. Once he was in, he instantly rushed to your side, gently shaking your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up again.

"Y/N it's me. We've got to go." He whispered, only getting a groan back from you.

Your hair was splayed messily around your face like the petals of a flower, making him think to the mornings he'd spent with you in the past. How he'd woken up beside you after a night of drinking and wanted to kiss you, but held himself back in fear that you would find it weird. That you would remind him that you were only friends with the occasional benefit. That you'd laugh in his face. If only he'd known how wrong he was.

Perhaps he didn't deserve you, but if being by yourself meant that you were going to do this to yourself... he would have to fight until the end of the earth to be with you.

In that moment, he regretted so many of his past actions. From the random girls he'd kissed in front of you to his recent rejection of you, he knew that once you were safe and awake he would do anything and everything to take it all back.

You would be his. No one else's... This could never happen again. No one other than him would touch you. He wouldn't allow it.

He looked around the room in a panic, picking up your shirt from the floor and lifting your head so that he could pull it over your body. Your body weight was resisting his actions, dead and heavy, but when he found your underwear and started to pull them up your legs, you finally flinched awake - even if it was only slightly.

"No Barry. Not again." You mumbled, lifting your leg to kick him away.

"It's me - JJ. We're gonna get you out of here." He said quietly, pulling your panties up so that you were covered and then slipping his arms underneath you to hoist you up bridal style.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, your heart jumping into your throat.

"JJ?" You whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"It's me baby. It's me." He repeated in a hushed tone. "You're safe now."

Then he heard the sound of the van starting outside and knew that he had to be faster. He looked around the room for a weapon and was pleased when he spotted a shotgun leant against the wardrobe, an idea springing into his head. He quickly put you back down on the bed.

"No. No. Don't leave me." You choked out, your breathing becoming rapid with panic. It broke JJ's heart to hear.

"I'll be two seconds. I promise you'll be okay." He mustered the softest tone that he could, stroking your face and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before picking up the gun and charging out of the room.

As soon as you were out of his sight, his bubbling anger returned. No longer would he be able to put on a calm front, that time had ran out. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his skin went hot again, thinking of the vile words he'd overheard.

He pumped the gun one time, making sure it was loaded, and then slammed open the front door, quickly drawing the attention of the bickering degenerates outside. John B also quickly noticed his friend too, instantly stopping the Twinkie from reversing and jumping out again as he watched JJ in disbelief. The scene moved so quickly that none of the Pogue's were able to immediately process it.

With a cry of anger, JJ lifted the gun above his shoulder and then slammed the butt of it as hard as he could into Barry's head, knocking him out instantly. The dealer fell to the ground and dropped his own gun, and before Rafe could reach for it, JJ pressed the barrel to his chest. Rafe held his hands up in nervous surrender, though it didn't mean much.

"I should fucking kill you both!" JJ shouted. "You fucking piece of shit. You like girls when they're passed out? Huh? You like girls that can't say no?"

"Woah man. Chill. I didn't touch her." Rafe tried to calm him down, his eyes wide with fright. "It was all Barry. I just got here!"

At the realisation of what JJ had alluded to, the three other Pogues ran to join in the confrontation again. They felt sick at the idea that you might've been hurt - especially by two such unsavoury characters.

"Where is she?" Kie shouted, throwing punches into Rafe's side whilst Pope picked up Barry's pistol from the floor and kicked his body a few times.

"Inside." JJ answered through gritted teeth, staring Rafe down and struggling to not pull the trigger. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

Rafe stumbled for a moment, swallowing before he collected himself and answered confidently "I didn't even touch her. Kill me and you’re going away for life! There’s not gonna be any of my DNA on Y/N, I can promise that! I’m not into passed out chicks. That’s all Barry.”

JJ didn’t move for a second, thinking on the boys words before lowering the gun slightly. He would make him suffer another time. In that moment, Barry deserved his attention much more.

"Get the fuck out of here." JJ eventually hissed.

Rafe did exactly that, backing away quickly to his truck and speeding off. The blonde turned his attention to Barry now, who was groaning as he slowly arose from the ground. Without hesitation, JJ bent down to his level and started to throw punches, blinded by fury and bloodlust. His nose cracked first, then his cheekbone, then his eye socket. JJ didn't know how long he'd been attacking him for when he felt John B's touch on his shoulder and heard his voice in his ear. The brunette had found you in the house and lifted you into the Twinkie during JJ’s raging, stood and watched for a moment and then decided to stop his friend, worried for your welfare despite enjoying the show very much.

"Come on JJ, that's enough."

Barry's face was an unrecognisable bloody mess, but he couldn't stop.

"J, you're gonna kill him."

That didn't matter.

"We need to get Y/N out of here. Let's go!"

The sound of your name did halt him. His knuckles were bruised and his chest was panting.

"He raped her, John B. She was passed out in there and naked when I found her!" He turned to his friend with a desperate expression. "We need to kill him."

"I know, I know. But he's not worth the prison sentence, J." John B struggled to bite back his own rage but managed to do so, speaking in a soft tone as he tried to calm his friend. "We'll make him suffer, don't you worry. But right now we need to go."

The blonde boy finally nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat dizzy from the adrenaline as he stood up and made his way to the Twinkie. Once he saw you inside, your half dressed body curled up on Kie's lap as you cried, the guilt came back to him in an agonising gut punch.

"This entire thing had been practically all his fault." Was all he could think. "From the relapse to this. He'd fucked you up without even trying."

He ignored his friends shouts as he paced back to his bike and said nothing as he rode off, deciding that he would go to a bar and drink his thoughts away for the night. As John B had said; it wasn't worth getting a prison sentence for murder, but that didn't mean he couldn't find some other random people to fight.

Hiiii I hope y’all enjoyed. I might make a part 4 depending on feedback. Stay safe!!

210 notes · View notes

princepiastri · 1 year ago

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enwoso · 10 months ago

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START AN ARGUMENT || alessia russo

this is my first time writing in a really long time so if there are any mistakes i apologise! but if you have any questions or requests please send them!

navigation

"lessi c'mere now, please!" you say as she walks into the kitchen, clad in a long oversized white t-shirt and shorts her hair still wet signalling that she had just gotten out of the shower.

a look of suspicion on her face at you stood in front of your phone. "what are you up to?" she giggled coming near to your phone which was propped up against your heart shaped mug which you had made at a pottery date with the blonde a few months ago. the blonde stopping at the corner of the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed as the mischievous look on your face.

"no c’mere" you repeat pulling her arm into the frame of the camera. "i want to start an argument." you say, letting go of the blondes arm and folding your arms to cover your check as your voice was laced with seriousness.

"why?" the blonde asks her eyes narrowing, not being able to tell if you were being serious or if this was part of the reason why you were recording. "is this another one of your silly tiktok things?" she asked but you pretended you hadn't heard her ask the question.

you cleared you voice, picking up the piece of paper which you had written your questions down on. "alessia russo, if i, your girlfriend - ran away would you get with someone else?" you ask, an element of shock appearing on alessia's face. she wasn't sure what you were going to ask but that definitely wasn't on her list of things.

"no never, i love you" she says with a smile thinking she's got the answer right. "what would you do?" you ask, still with a straight face.

"i would be single and lonely and become a mum to your many jelly cats" alessia says again with a slight smile, looking at the camera which is recording the whole moment.

"incorrect." you say bluntly.

"what, so i would be with someone else?"

"no. if i ran away you would come and find me and you would not stop until you had found me, got it?" you say as if that was the most obvious answer she could have said.

"oh, loud and clear!" the blonde says breaking into another fit of laughter not being able to take this whole serious persona you had adopted the past few minutes.

"if you were blindfolded, and had to kiss 50 women including me. would you guess it was me and if so, how?" you say reading of the peice of paper before giving your girlfriend a deep stare.

"of course i would be able to tell which is you, cause you always poke your tongue-" alessia began but didn't have a chance to finish as you cut her off.

"incorrect!"

"why!"

"you shouldn't want to kiss fifty other women to guess which one is me!" you say, shaking your head in false disapproval. "why would you want to kiss 49 other women?"

"i wouldn't!" alessia says in a pleading tone, as she drags her hands down her face in frustration.

"good, now next one, who is always right in this relationship?" you say knowing exactly what she's going to say which is the furthest from the truth.

"right, okay let's be fair-" alessia begins as you side eye her your eyebrows raising a little, "who is always right in this relationship" you repeat the question emphasis on the word right.

"me"

"incorrect!"

alessia begins to laugh as she knows that's wasn't the correct answer, "that's so incorrect." you say still in your total seriousness persona. "i know, but i never get to be right" the blonde adds with a pout.

"again, incorrect!"

"ok, do you prefer my hair natural or with blonde highlights?" you say looking at alessia who's looking at your hair which at the moment is your full natural colour.

"with blonde" alessia says knowing how much you do love it when it comes to getting your hair done.

"incorrect!"

"nah, now your just lying to wind me up!“

"no, you should prefer me no matter what" you say as she lets out a loud groan, "i don't like when your being all serious, can my big softie come back?"

"i can't cope with these questions"

"i can't believe your getting these so wrong!"

"i can't win.”

"would you kiss someone for £10 million, that wasn't me?" you say looking alessia in the eye as she does back to you. "no!" there being a slight pause after she said her answer, the blonde being done with your game you were playing wanting it to be over now cause it was beginning to mess with her head.

"incorrect!"

"what so i would!" she says confused as to why you've said it was incorrect, "yeah!" you said as if it was again the most obvious answer she could have said.

"you just told me i can't kiss 49 other women!" she argued back as you were now beginning to try not to break your straight face.

"i never said you had to kiss them on the lips, could of kissed them on the finger!" you protested as she shook her head mumbling how she doesn't like this silly game you've come up with.

"you've just lost us ten million! you know how many jelly cats i could of had with that." you frown.

"terribly sorry, i'll buy you the jelly cat instead"

"last one, this is the make or break one, if you went to the shop and i said i didn't want anything would you still bring me something back?" you said placing the sheet of paper on the kitchen counter next to your phone which as still recording the whole moment.

"no, cause you just eat what's mine anyway and then not eat what i brought you back, so it wouldn't matter"

"incorrect"

"you should always bring me something back even if i say i don't want anything!" you say a smile beginning to crack on your face.

"got it! note to self always bring you food" alessia says tapping her head as if that was going to help her remember that specific piece of information.

"yes!"

"or drinks"

"yes or flowers!"

"got it!" alessia says bringing you into a bear hug and attacking you with sloppy kisses. "lessi get off me!" you giggle as she carry's on holding onto you as your stood with your back to the counter as she holds you against it, you leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

"incorrect baby, try again!” alessia says a smirk rising on her face. you shake your head at copying your act you had just been doing and lean up to kiss her on the lips as she sighs and smiles into it.

liked by leahwilliamson and 601,925 others

yourusername just been told i have too many jelly cats.. honestly have never heard something so ridiculous in my life!

comments -

alessia baby it’s getting to the point where i can’t get in bed at night because of them all😐

1h 210 likes reply

-> yourusername well i cant sleep with one and not the others. they have feelings too you know!

kyracooneyx omg have you seen the new ones that have just released!

1h 196 likes reply

-> alessia please don’t encourage her you pest!

-> yourusername i know! there being delivered next week!

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daisyblog · 10 months ago

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First Date

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN are set up on a date.

2019

Jonny had separately nagged YN and Harry to let him set them up on a date. Harry’s argument was that he was in the middle of writing his second album, and wanted to be on his own after his last break up. YN’s protest was that she was a single working Mum who didn’t have the time, and added “nobody wants to date a single mum”.

After what felt like months of constant begging, Harry and YN both gave in to their friend and agreed to go on a date. Jonny had arranged for them to meet at a small quiet restaurant on the outskirts of London, knowing Harry would want to stay under the radar.

YN had been nervous all day. She had messaged Jonny several times to try and cancel but he insisted that it was just nerves and she should give it a chance. Harry felt mixed emotions, part of him was nervous, he was meeting someone new but the other part of him was excited because he knew Jonny wouldn’t set him up with just anyone.

Harry arrived at the restaurant first, being fifteen minutes early. He was shown to their table which he was grateful was tucked into a corner away from other tables. He knew that was down to Jonny’s request. Wanting to calm his nervous, Harry ordered a bottle of wine for them, hoping YN liked it too.

He had just taken a small sip from his glass, when he saw the waiter walking towards him with a woman following behind. Harry stood from his chair, ready to greet her. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you”. Harry spoke first, bringing YN in for a hug.

“Jonny and his persuasive ways huh?”. YN joked, causing Harry to smile knowing Jonny must have nagged YN as much as he had nagged him.

Harry pulled YN’s chair out for her to sit before taking his place back in her own. “I ordered wine, I can get you something else if you’d prefer”.

“No…wine is perfect, thank you”. YN smiled with appreciation, showing her little dimples. “I like your tattoos”. She complimented as she noticed them on his arm, that was exposed due to his short sleeved shirt.

Harry glanced down as he looked at his arm, smiling slightly at the mixture of ink that covered his skin. “Uh thanks…I have too many to count”. He giggled. “Do you have any?”. He gestured to his tattoos.

YN hesitated before explaining. “I have one…on my wrist”. She turned her hand over to reveal the delicate ink on her right wrist. “It’s my son’s name”. YN watched for a change in Harry’s response or how he may end the date now.

But what surprised YN was Harry’s genuine grin as he looked down at her wrist. “What’s his name?”. His question was genuine, YN could tell by how he looked at her directly in the eye which a soft look.

“Jacob”. YN smiled as she thought about her favourite person. The little boy who saved her in more ways than he would ever know. “He’s five and a real sweetheart.”. Harry noticed how YN’s whole face lit up as she spoke about him. “Does me having a son not bother you?”. YN couldn’t help but ask.

Harry frowned at her question before shaking his head. “Of course not…I don’t date people based on if they’re a parent, or if they have a certain job or x amount of money in the bank…I date people for them.”.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help but ask, I’m not used to people being so understanding when it comes to Jacob”. YN apologised, hoping she hadn’t ruined the date before it had started properly.

“Hey…it’s fine, you can be yourself tonight…there’s no judgement from me.” Harry reassured her, knowing how it felt for someone not to get to know you and having a false opinion.

“Thank you…that really means a lot”. YN smiled before taking a sip from her glass, needing to treat her dry throat.

“So tell me about you and Jacob…I can see he’s your life and I want to know more”. The sentence caused a spark in YN’s chest at how interested Harry was in not only her but the one person who mattered the most.

Harry and YN had talked, laughed and smiled all evening. YN couldn’t remember the last time she felt like herself and was able to be just YN and not just a Mum. Harry wondered how he hadn’t met YN sooner because for once someone didn’t want to speak to him because he was Harry Styles, he could see that YN was genuinely interested in getting to know him as just Harry.

Harry had learnt that YN was in university studying business when she fell pregnant but had to drop out before graduating. But now owned her own florist in London. He noticed that she hasn’t mentioned her family apart from Jacob, but decided it was best to leave it that way for now. She didn’t ask one question related to the band or his music, she asked questions about his family, where he grew up, his childhood memories and all the little things that built up who he is today.

After they had finished their meals and nicely argued about how the bill was going to be paid, they found themselves walking through a quieter part of town, still chatting and giggling like two teenagers. They wanted to blame the wine but deep down they both knew it was from the excitement of each other.

Harry had arranged for a taxi to drop them both back home. They were both supposed to realise that YN didn’t live far from Harry’s Hampstead house. He walked YN up to her door to make sure she was home safe. They both stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence. Smirks covering their smiles.

“I had a really nice time tonight”. Harry broke first, meaning what he had said.

“Me too!”. YN felt shy for the first time all evening.

“Can I see you again?”. Harry was bold, he hadn’t felt like this after a date before and he wasn’t willing to lose his chance.

YN smiled, she felt special and chosen for once and inside she was screaming with happiness. Harry really wanted to see her again. “I’d love that”.

They quickly swapped numbers and Harry was eager to arrange to see YN again. Before making his way back to the taxi that was waiting patiently, he leaned in to hug YN goodbye. It was like neither of them wanted to let go but the feeling of Harry’s lips leaving a peck on her cheek is what caused YN to jump around in happiness once she closed the door behind her that night.

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@ell0ra-br3kk3r

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helloalycia · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you and Skye try to relearn how to be friends again, you realise it’s harder than you thought.

warning/s: mentions of injury, substance abuse, poor mental health and basically everything Skye goes through oof.

author's note: here’s part 2! so sorry it was delayed, i’ve been stuffed with cold for the past few days so didn’t have chance to share it. Hope this makes up for it anyway :)

"...and I'm just outside your building now," I said to Skye over the phone, lingering outside.

"I was just about to call," she said in a rushed voice, sounding apologetic. "I'm running late, but I'm almost there. Give or take ten minutes. You can head straight up. The doorman knows to let you in and the spare key is in the same place as always."

I hesitated at her response.

It wasn't a big deal, I'd been to her apartment many times, but it had also been a year since I'd last been and it felt strange to go up alone. Especially because I was just supposed to be meeting her to go out, not actually going inside.

"Oh, I can just wait outside, it's okay," I said, maybe a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, it's fine, you head up, I'll be with you soon," she assured me, before I heard a sound in the background. "I gotta go. See you in ten!"

I chewed my lip before putting my phone away and heading straight inside. As Skye said, the doorman recognised me and let me straight up, and it felt odd. The last time I'd been in the lift, I was crying on the way down from that awful argument between Skye and I. I hadn't been back since – I'd had no need to. But now...

It wasn't the same, I had to remind myself of that. She wasn't the same. None of this was.

Over the past few weeks, we'd somewhat returned to how things used to be, but it was all baby steps. Being each other's friend was second nature, and yet moments like this sometimes had me stumbling in the dark.

I found her door at the end of the hall, digging out the spare key from behind the framed painting next to it. A stupid place to keep it I'd always thought, but the whole place was guarded anyway so it didn't matter.

After opening the door, I returned the key to its spot before letting myself in. Everything looked the same as I last remembered it, and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I'd missed it. I still remembered when she bought it and moved in, after her career picked up overnight. We'd had countless movie nights here, sleepovers that lasted days sometimes, and it just brought back so many memories. Good, as well as bad, but I tried not to focus on the latter.

I began to walk around aimlessly, waiting for her to return, eyeing the cabinet full of awards, the framed albums, admiring the penthouse view from her living room, and then I came across some framed photos hung on the wall. Some were of her and her mum when she was a kid, others were as she grew up, and then I spotted a familiar one.

It was a photo of Skye performing her first ever single on her first ever TV appearance years ago, and it was a photo taken by me, one of my first professional gigs as a photographer. A small smile tugged at my lips, realising she hadn't taken it down. I was touched that she kept it.

The door opening made me glance away and see Skye rushing in, looking a bit dishevelled. When she spotted me, she smiled with relief.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to run late," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"It's fine," I said dismissively, before joking, "You know, you're a little too trustworthy. It's been a year. I totally could have come up here and, like, I don't know, robbed you or something. Sold your shit on eBay."

She tossed her bag to the couch as she laughed quietly, quirking a brow. "Oh, really? A year and you've suddenly turned into a criminal?"

"I could've."

"What a personality change."

I laughed as she stopped by my side, nudging me in the arm slightly, before her gaze fell to the photos hung on the wall.

"Ah, going through memory lane, I see," she teased lightheartedly.

I glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's cute that you've still got it. Even if it is a terrible photo."

"It's not," she said with a chuckle, looking at it with pride. "It's a two in one, I had to keep it. My first TV appearance and the day I met you. It just makes it extra special that you took the photo."

My cheeks grew warm at her words, and I found myself staring at her profile as she smiled reminiscently at the photo. We'd come so far since then and yet I still did a double take whenever I looked to her. Maybe some things hadn't changed...

"I'm just gonna change my clothes and then we can head out," she said after a moment. "Won't be long."

"It's cool, take your time," I said with a nod, watching as she went to her room, before looking back to the photo and finding myself smiling all over again.

—

Becoming friends with Skye again made it easy to remember all the best parts of having a friendship with her, so much that I almost forgot what led to everything being ruined in the first place.

Of course there was the substance abuse, but the reason for that was the anxieties and stresses that came with being one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And it definitely didn't help that Skye never had a lot of support from her team, who only ever saw her as a commodity. Clearly that hadn't changed.

I'd just finished some work one morning and had plans to hang out with Skye after, maybe catch a movie or something as she had the day off, we hadn't really decided. But when I called her, she answered groggily.

"Hey, Skye, you good?" I asked jokingly.

She made a sound like a yawn before humming. "Yes, sorry, I was just napping. Just been tired."

"Oh, I was calling to say I'm free now, but we can rearrange if–"

"No, no, I want to see you," she cut me off with assurance, forcing herself to sound more lively. "A movie, right? Or lunch?"

I tried not to snicker. "Skye, it's your day off and you sound exhausted. It's alright."

"I'm fine, honest," she said confidently, or an attempt at it. "Please, I was looking forward to seeing you."

I sighed, debating whether or not to listen to her. Then, I thought of a solution. "How about we stay in? I can come to yours and we can watch a movie there?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she said with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll get the blankets warmed up in the dryer, ready for your arrival."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds good. I'll bring some snacks and be over soon."

And just like that, we both kept to our word and got comfortable on her couch barely half an hour later. Snacks were laid out on the coffee table whilst two fluffy blankets covered us completely. Still, we leaned against each other for warmth.

Skye was definitely burnt out, her general enthusiasm diminished temporarily and her movements sluggish, but she was smiling all the same as she spent time with me. I knew she meant it, but it still worried me that she wasn't getting enough time to simply rest.

"How's tour stuff going?" I asked as she loaded up a film on Netflix.

She shrugged as she focused on the task at hand. "Alright. Been busy. You know how it can get."

I glanced at her. "I do."

She must have noticed my staring as she stopped what she was doing and looked over at me with an amused smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, looking to the TV. "Just remember that you can take a break if you need to. It's important or you'll risk burning out."

She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder and playing with the blanket mindlessly. "I know. I am."

"Enough breaks," I clarified, watching her hands play with it. "I mean, your team are supportive, I'm sure, but they don't always know what's best for you."

She snorted with amusement, glancing up at me. "And you do?"

I met her gaze, half playful and half serious. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll always be an advocate of you taking a freakin' break."

She suppressed a smile as she nudged me appreciatively. "You're right. I will. I guess I've just been busy making sure everything is perfect. It has to be, you know? Especially after everything."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "I get it. Just... take care of yourself. Please."

She nodded, though sunk further into the couch as she laced her hands around my arm to get comfortable, almost like she was ending the conversation without saying so. I took the hint and looked back to the screen.

"Picked a film yet?" I asked.

"Almost."

—

Despite how easy it was to fall back into everything with Skye, there were still topics we didn't discuss. Like we never brought up our friendship-ending argument again, or her time in rehab, and she never talked about the accident. It wasn't that I didn't leave that space open for her to discuss, but it was definitely her way of keeping that separate by not bringing it up. And naturally, I didn't want to force her to relive it by bringing it up either.

But not talking about it meant I didn't always know how to help her.

We were walking around a park near her apartment one evening, enjoying a stroll at first, but then we started to mess around on some of the playing equipment since the place was deserted.

"You really think you can clear it in ten seconds?" I asked her with a laugh as she looked up at the monkey bars.

"I do, yeah," she said, mirroring my laughter as she glanced at me. "You just watch. Go on. Grab your phone. Timer at the ready please."

Curious, I pulled out my phone and stepped back, finger hovering over the timer. "Ready when you are, idiot."

She grinned before standing beneath the monkey bars. Looking up at them, she took a deep breath, about to jump up, but I intentionally interrupted to throw her off.

"You sure you don't wanna stretch first?"

She jumped and glared at me playfully. "Shut up. Just get ready."

I laughed and waited patiently, watching as she readied herself once more. And then she jumped up to grab the bars and I started the timer.

She managed to move down three bars before faltering at the fourth one and then letting go all of a sudden. My eyes widened when she landed on the tarmac with a sharp gasp, and I forgot all about the stupid timer as I rushed to check on her.

"Shit, Skye, you okay?" I asked quickly, kneeling down beside her.

Her face contorted in pain as her hand clutched her back. She was leaning on her elbow, clearly hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered quickly, though she winced and her eyes were squeezing shut to suppress the pain.

I noticed she was holding her back – not really putting together that it was from her existing back pain from the accident – and tried to help by reaching for her jacket to see if she'd hurt it from the fall.

"No!" she suddenly shouted when she saw me attempting to touch her, and I jumped.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," I apologised, not wanting to overwhelm or upset her anymore than she already was.

I moved my hand back, but she grabbed it and squeezed gently before I could, an attempt at an apology for her outburst. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she breathed out the pain, and I didn't say anything more as I held her hand, waiting patiently. Though my heart was clenching with concern the longer she took.

"It hurts sometimes," she finally spoke, avoiding my eyes, "from the accident. That's all."

When I realised it was much more than just falling from the monkey bars, I felt stupid and spoke without thinking. "Do you have medicine?"

She tensed her jaw as she glanced at me.

"Stupid question, sorry," I realised, grimacing.

She let go of my hand and shook her head, expression softening. "No, it wasn't."

Something was bothering her, more than the pain, but now wasn't the time to ask, so I settled on helping her stand up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," I said carefully. "It's getting late anyway."

She nodded, still avoiding my eyes, and we both walked back to her apartment in an awkward silence. A million things were running through my mind, mostly out of concern for Skye, and acknowledging my utter stupidity. For once, I couldn't read her.

When we reached the lobby inside, we paused by the lift.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to dial down my worry for her sake.

"Yes, sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine," I assured her, eyes scanning her expression as she purposely looked at my shirt and not me. "I didn't mean to overstep before. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She shook her head, eyes flickering to mine briefly, sad, before looking down to her shoes. "You didn't. I just–"

She paused, a moment too long, enough to make me wonder what had her so uneasy.

"It's not pretty," she finally spoke, quieter than usual. "The... the scar. It's..."

"You don't need to explain," I said, when she didn't speak anymore, though my heart ached with concern, soon realising her uneasiness was embarrassment. An unnecessary embarrassment at that, as if I'd care about a scar when she was still here, alive.

I gave her a moment, hoping she'd say something more, but she didn't.

"Will you be okay?" I asked worriedly, not wanting to leave her tonight if her back was flaring up.

She nodded. "Yeah."

I nodded too, though was unsure how to say my goodbyes. Usually I'd go in for a hug, but she was already uncomfortable with me touching her before and the last thing I wanted was to do that again.

But then she finally looked up, eyes meeting mine gratefully, before she hugged me.

"Thanks for not thinking I'm weird," she mumbled into my shoulder, arms wrapped around them tightly.

I returned the hug gently. "I could never."

She didn't let go straight away and neither did I, not until she made the first move since clearly she needed this hug more than I did.

Finally, she pulled apart and offered me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," I said, returning her smile, before reluctantly leaving her.

—

It was the first time we'd even come close to talking about the accident and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. She wasn't opening up and I wondered if she felt like she couldn't. But maybe that incident was the key, because things changed soon after.

About a week later, I was fast asleep when I woke up to my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Confused, I cracked an eye open, wondering who could be calling in the middle of the night, but then the vibrating stopped. I considered if I cared that much, before deciding it could've been an emergency and checking who it was.

When I saw Skye's name, I woke up a little more, overcome with concern since she'd never called like this before. Immediately, I rang her back. It took two rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she answered with confusion.

Still half asleep, I answered groggily, "Why are you confused? You just called me."

She sighed. "I did. Sorry. I cut it off when I realised."

She sounded different, her voice hoarse.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry, I just–" She tutted at herself. "It's late, Y/N, go back to sleep."

Even half conscious, I knew she wasn't okay. "Skye."

It went quiet, but she gave in, to my relief. "I had a bad dream," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted to distract myself. I didn't mean to wake you."

I frowned to myself. "Are you okay?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "I will be. Really, just go to sleep, I'll be fine."

"I can't sleep knowing you're by yourself," I told her, too tired to hide my worry.

She paused, and then her voice came out guiltily, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," I said gently, before asking, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she answered quickly, before adding, "It's late. I don't want you up and about this late into the night."

I was already pulling my duvet off and sitting at the edge of my bed as I said, "It's not a problem, Skye." It went quiet on her end, so I prompted, "Skye?"

"You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

Realising she did in fact want me there, I tried to reassure her. "No, of course not. I can come now."

She practically held her breath. "I owe you."

"You don't."

Exhaling softly, she said, "I'll send a cab to get you. I'll cover the cost. I don't want you on public transport in New York when all the weirdos are out."

I cracked a small smile. "Okay, Skye, see you soon."

Sounding relieved, she said, "See you soon."

I yawned as I hung up, trying to move quickly but still trying to wake up and so unintentionally moving at snail speed. After packing a small bag, including a change of clothes and some toiletries, I pulled on my shoes and a jacket before leaving for Skye's.

The taxi ride wasn't long since the streets weren't busy, and I found myself at Skye's door in less than twenty minutes. As soon as I knocked, she opened up.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile, before hugging her in greeting. "How are you?"

She hugged me back and let me in, closing the door behind me. I noticed she was wearing her pyjamas, hair dishevelled and eyes a little red.

"Better now," she admitted, before frowning. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you did," I told her, before leaving my bag by the kitchen counter. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You're tired," she noticed.

I waved a hand dismissively, trying to look more awake. "I can stay awake if you want, Skye."

She sighed, shaking her head, before wordlessly grabbing my hand and dragging me to her bedroom.

"Come on," she said as she climbed into her queen sized bed, so I got out of my shoes and jacket and followed suit, settling in beside her.

We laid on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I glanced at her, her expression dimly lit by the moonlight and lights shining through her blinds. She was weary, though attempting to hide it.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" I asked curiously.

She swallowed visibly. "Not as much as I used to, but... sometimes, yeah." She paused, as if stuck in an internal debate, before admitting, "It was about the accident."

At the mention of the accident, the air in the room felt charged with uncertainty, and Skye's jaw tensed slightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked tenderly, and when she didn't reply, I quickly added, "Or you don't have to at all."

Her dark eyes flickered to mine, surprisingly calm. "It's okay. It's just– it's a lot. And when I'm alone, it's..."

"A lot," I finished for her.

She nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

I found her hand between us, squeezing it gently in support.

"I remember how difficult it was after," she muttered. "That, and the withdrawals, and all of it – it was a lot. Being in the hospital... I had my mum, but it felt so lonely."

I frowned as she recalled the experience, hearing it for the first time from her lips. And then she looked over at me and I looked back, realising there were tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked, voice cracking and eyes welling up. "I wanted you to visit so bad. I– I thought you would."

Not expecting that, I struggled to speak. "I told you, Skye, I thought you wouldn't want me there. I..."

She let go of my hand and wiped her eyes shamefully, looking away. I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow to look down at her, not wanting her to bottle everything up now.

"I waited," she whispered. "Every day, hoping you'd come to see me."

My heart crumbled at her words, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not your fault, I know that. But I just..."

With the nightmare still fresh and her recollection of the past at the forefront of her mind, I knew her emotions were heightened and she was overwhelmed, and it hurt to witness.

I pulled her into my chest for a hug, rubbing her back gently. "I wish I had. I wanted nothing more than to see you then, Skye, truly. But I'm here now. I promise."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away either. Her sniffles were heard in the silence of the room and she kept a firm grip on my tee shirt, and I didn't know what else to do other than continue to rub her back soothingly.

At some point, we must have dosed off like that because when I opened my eyes next, it was morning. I yawned as I rubbed my face, confused to where I was at first. And then I recognised Skye's room and it all came back to me.

I looked beside me, seeing Skye fast asleep, face smushed against her pillow adorably. She looked a lot better than she did last night and I was glad for it, seriously worried about her. Hopefully she'd gotten some sleep after everything.

Trying not to stare too long, reminding myself that it wasn't very platonic of me, I looked away and carefully clambered out of her bed to freshen up. After doing so, I went into her kitchen to find something to eat.

I was eating from a bowl of cereal at her kitchen island when I heard footsteps, looking up to see her leaving her bedroom.

"Good morning," I greeted. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed tiredly, yawning and running a hand through her dishevelled hair. I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"Better," she finally spoke, brown eyes meeting mine across the counter. "Thanks, Y/N. For coming last night."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, and looked down thoughtfully. After a moment, she said, "I know I haven't talked to you much about it all."

My expression softened. "I don't expect you to."

"I know," she said quietly, before meeting my gaze. "I want to. I do. Otherwise the way I am, how I act... it doesn't make sense and I don't want you to feel confused or think I'm insane or–"

"Hey," I cut her off, furrowing my brows. "I don't think that, Skye."

She chewed her lip momentarily, eyes flickering to the counter top. "I want you to know. Eventually. I just– it'll be bit by bit because I can't go through it all at once. It's too much."

I frowned sympathetically. "That's alright. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you just want the support, I can give you that too. It's what friends do."

She smiled a little, nodding. "Right."

I studied her expression, unsure what to make of it. "Did you get any sleep? Last night?"

She nodded, looking up. "I did, yeah. Thanks for coming. I know it was late. And I'm sorry for breaking down on you."

I gave her a knowing look, offering a small smile. "You need to stop apologising."

She exhaled. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Never mind that. You want breakfast? I can make whatever you want, providing you have it of course."

She smiled as she took a seat. "That would be nice, yeah. Eggs couldn't hurt."

"Eggs it is then," I said, eating the last bite of my cereal before standing up. "Give me five minutes.”

She nodded and watched me, relaxed for even the smallest of moments, enough to put me at ease too.

#naomi scott #skye riley #skye riley x you #skye riley imagine #smile 2 imagine #smile 2 #skye riley x reader

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someonegoood · 10 months ago

Text

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 3 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which after everything you gave, you're not sure if you're going to keep going. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 3 ! final part for my first two works, I'm proud of how it came out

taglist: @girlidekanymore @sunflower-tia @nicolesainz @chilwellspulisic @anotherfan07

inspired by taylor swift's songs.

The feeling of freshness —the wonderful smells, the damp feel of leaves falling down the trees, the breeze and the rain on your skin. The sound of rain is wonderful: not just between a hard roof and leaves, but you can hear it on different types of trees and hedges.

The flowers, which look like they were painted by Monet himself, have colours so rich that no one can even attempt to imitate them. From the smallest weed to the grandest stalk, they are all beautiful in your eyes.

Around you are your friends; some are talking or enjoying the countryside air. You had decided to take me on a little vacation before returning to the routine of the busy city of London.

No distractions, no disturbances, especially without him. After seeing how Mason smiled at that blonde standing next to him and Debbie's painful look in the boat, you knew all these years were in vain.

The moments when you took care of him after he vomited from all the alcohol he had consumed at the party, when you covered him so he could go on dates with different girls and other things you had done for him.

The last time Mason saw you still burned in the back of your mind, the little stolen glances he gave you while you were wearing a pink t-shirt, the one that you had left back in a drawer in the Mount's house. Stacey had told you the t-shirt drove him crazy.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t understand why nothing went your way. Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the gulf?

—Babes, how could you ever think it's your fault? Clearly, he is out of his mind. —Clara talked. You and your friends were sitting on the porch in the extensive field that belonged to your grandparents.

Then Adelaida, who was resting her head on your lap, suddenly stood up, leaning on one elbow and said: —Please don't think it's your fault, you would be lowering yourself to his level.

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you... even your mother. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the heartbreak that felt it was never-ending.

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling that pulled you to another person, that proved he was the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know he wasn’t.

Even though you were angry at him, you knew that when you saw him you would act like a little girl, crazy in love.

On the other side, Mason was in the kitchen, picking at the leftover food on the tabletop as everyone else was in the living room. His mother walked into the kitchen as he took a bite of little meatballs that looked delicious and she laughed at the pieces of meat that had fallen onto the kitchen counter.

—That’s definitely not the way to eat —she smirked knowing his son wasn't the type of person to sit down and eat properly.

—But you love me anyways, mom. —Mason flashed his puppy eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. It had been a long year for Mason. He stopped turning to family events when he knew you would be there.

—Mason Tony Mount, I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself-

—Mom. —Mason sighed. —Don't start this whole speech about her, please.

—Dear, I don’t even need to say her name... it will always be her. —She smiled, sadly, as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

—She's happy, from what I heard. —he scoffed again.

—So then you know you’re being an ass, right?

Mason's eyes widened at his mother's question but she just laughed and waved him off. —After all the years she spent after you, dear, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.

That sentence shattered his heart. You weren't the little girl who ran behind him in search of attention anymore, you were a woman with maturity, feelings and beauty.

—But what if I’m not happy? —he asked his mum. Debbie felt her heart clench at his words, it was never good for a mother when they saw their son being at his lowest.

—Do you love her?

There was no answer.

—See, that would be very cruel. Mase... either you love her or you’re jealous. Just remember that she's a second daughter to me and I know her like the palm of my hand. I'm certain that she’s fragile when it comes to you.

After a week in the countryside with your friends, you were back in the city, at a party the english players were throwing in celebration of their team winning the last few games.

Every time he looks at you, it’s making him go mad. It surprises him how much influence you have on his night out. He actually believed he could handle it, seeing you after a while. Normally he’s the one who takes you to the football after-parties because you begged him like crazy. But not this time.

Did you wear a white dress on purpose tonight? He doesn’t know. You look beautiful and he wishes he had the nerve to tell you how great white looks on you. He remembers the time you almost kiss in the box, you in the white sweatshirt with his number. The guy talking to you on your right was Foden. Did you wear it for him? He doesn’t believe that, he doesn’t think he deserves that.

Mason sighs. This is one of the hardest nights in his life. He shouldn’t have messed it up. If he didn’t follow what Ben said to him, he would probably be the one talking to you. Fucking Ben.

At the same time, you don’t know what’s bothering Mason. You thought he would be coming to the afterparty with Daphne, but his friends confirmed that he forgot her quickly. He didn't even kiss her. Neither touch her.

It surprised you, you were afraid he would show up with that beautiful model. A part of you felt really happy.

You feel his eyes burning into you while you talk to Foden. You quickly take the cocktail out of Phil's hands, while thanking him in the meantime. He shrugs it off.

—What’s up with you? —He asks you after you take a few sips.

—What do you mean? —You ask him. Is he noticing your bad mood? You tried hiding it, but maybe you failed.

—You seem distracted. Did something happen? —he goes on. You take a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your response. Could it be a bad plan to tell him about Mase? They’re friends after all. But on the other hand, it would be nice to talk about it to someone.

—It’s him, isn’t it? —Foden answers his own question. You didn’t even realize you were looking at Mason until Phil spoke. You nod towards him, —Let’s go outside.

Then, you're sitting on a wooden bench outside. The white dress doesn’t give you much warmth, so you embarrassingly start to shiver. Before you can notice it, Phil drapes his jacket around your shoulders.

—Fuck... —he says, regretting. —I knew it would be a bad plan to invite you. —Mutters softly, —I thought it was a good idea to make you feel better, now I just got Mount to get angry at you.

You laughed, thinking that was very cute. —That’s not true, Phil —you try to comfort him, —you can’t help me being an idiot.

—To be fair, Mason and you are both idiots. —Foden laughs, —Definitely unaware idiots-

But before he can explain to you anything, Mason shows up in front of you.

While walking back to his car, he notices the sound of people talking outside. He thinks he’s recognizing your voice. He must be going insane, he thinks tiredly to himself. But still, he walks towards the sound. Quickly seeing you and Phil sitting together... fucking hell, why are you wearing his jacket?

Before he realizes it himself, he stands before you and his teammate Foden. The chattering stops directly, did he interrupt something? He feels awkward with you and Phil looking at him amusingly. How can he fix this awful situation?

—I uh... I wanted to say bye to you. —Mason said, ignoring the existence of Phil. —I am supposed to bring you home or will Phil...?—He stutters eventually, not wanting to finish his question.

—Wait, Mase, can we talk? —You react before Mason turns around and walks to his car in a rush. He nods.

—Of course.

The silence was sharply awkward.

—Don’t forget your jacket, Foden —Mason quickly says, —she can wear mine while we’re outside.

Phil, who no longer was sitting on the bench, laughed for a bit at his hopeless friend. Then he walks up to you, and takes his own jacket from your shoulders, while Mason quickly takes off his. You give Phil a quick hug to thank him, before getting into Mason's jacket.

—Don’t be an idiot to her —says Phil toward Mason whispering in his ear. You smile shyly, flushing with Phil's comment.

Mason doesn’t know how to watch the interaction between his friend and you. He doesn't know where to look when you turn your attention to him. The white dress quickly grabs his attention once again.

Silently, both of you walk to the parking lot where his fancy Mercedes-AMG was parked. You had always made fun of him because the car was too posh in your opinion, although every time you needed a ride home you always ended up in his car.

Firstly he took the car keys out of his pocket and then he opened your door for you. He had always been a gentleman. The situation is unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you two through the last couple of months.

—So, what do you want to talk about? —Mason asks you. You lasted a few seconds thinking about how to answer his question.

—Why were you ignoring me today? Why didn’t you come up to me and Phil to say hi? —You fire multiple questions at him, —did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me? —Your words cut through the thick air inside the car.

—I thought the two of you were busy with each other. —Mason mutters.

You scoff, this was unbelievable. —That’s bullshit Mase, you know I always make time for you.

—God!, I just wasn’t in the mood to see you two. —He said, elevating his tone, trying to sound casual but deep down, jealousy was gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

You don’t know what to say to Mason. You don’t even know what the boy means. He wasn’t in the mood to see you? Since when could that happen?

—Why? —You barely dare to ask him. You have no choice, so you repeat your last question —why, Mase? —Your eyes start to fill with tears.

Mason sighs, —You won’t get it.

—You don’t know that. Try me.

—I just... I just don’t like seeing you with other boys —he confessed. You doubt for a bit. Should you tell him you were relieved he showed up alone instead of coming with Daphne? You decide not.

—Oh, come on Mason! You can't say that! —You almost shout. Mason's eyes open like plates. You had never raised your voice at him like that, so angry.

—Why not? —He, as well, says almost shouting.

—Because you don't have the right! It's-it's just that you can't say that as if my feelings were so simple... —You tried to calm yourself, you could lost everything now.

—Mason, I've been with you since the beginning and you know that. I'm your biggest supporter and deep inside you know I’ll always cheer for you. I’ve spent my whole girlhood- Fuck. —Tears start scrolling down your delicate face. He looks at you as if you were graceful.

—I wanted to be with you tonight, —you eventually say after a long silence—but you looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

—I know.

You sigh. Can't the boy say anything else? You feel obligated to talk further: —Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?

You don't get any answer. Looking at the ceiling of the car, you try to keep your cool.

—You know what? I’m going back to the party. Call me when you can explain at least something. —You want to undo yourself from Mason's warm jacket, but he stops you directly by grabbing your arm.

—I know you deserve to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s a shitty excuse which makes everything even more unclear, but please don’t go back inside. —Mason talks soft and fast —and please keep the jacket on.

—What’s so important about the jacket? —You ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

—Your dress distracts me and I don’t want to see you in anyone else’s jacket again. —This time he is direct with his words. Almost harsh. You wonder why your dress distracts him. Does he find it ugly?

—Don’t you like the dress? —You ask.

—I fucking love the dress. —Mason says. At that moment you feel something clicking. Despite his short explanation, you wonder if Mason may return your feelings.

—Just give me time. Everything is happening so fast and the fact that I'm just realizing that all these years all I've been doing is hurting you makes me go mad angry at myself. —He says, without breathing. —And... I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done, for the countless times I've hurt you. I promise you will have a proper explanation. —He tried to smile, with tears in his eyes.

—That's the Mase I know... —You laugh lightly and Mason just stares at you, sweetly. —Now take me back home, probably my brother is already wasted.

What you didn't know is that that day Mason Mount started falling in love with you.

A few days after you were your house, sat in the cozy familiarity of the your couch while your mother flipped through the pages of a weathered photo album resting on her lap. Each turn of the page revealed a snapshot of your brother's and your past, a journey frozen in time.

—Look! You're wearing my glasses! —Said your mother, with clear emotion in her voice. She turned some pages that had photographs of your childhood: when you were born, your first tooth fell out and many more memories.

Your cheeks flushed with nostalgic warmth, a subtle testament to the innocence and joy captured in each photograph.

Among the sepia-toned memories and faded polaroids, there was a page filled with pictures where Mason and you, both still little children, intertwined in laughter playing in the park.

Your mom pinched your cheek. —Someday you will realize that everything you did was not in vain, on the contrary, it was all worth it. —She stopped to take a breath. —Because golden loves are like that. They stay with you forever.

—How beautiful, mom. —You ironized. She laughed.

—It will, darling... Come here. —And then you hugged her. You hugged her with all your might as you felt her warmth on your face. She giggled, breaking the embrace.

—You'll need a spell to make Mason realize what a fool he is.

—Mom!

A couple days later, you were back at Stamford Bridge once again. As you approach the stadium, you can feel the excitement building. The streets around the stadium eagerly anticipate the game ahead.

Inside the stadium, the dominant colour is blue. The stands are filled with supporters adorned in their team's jerseys, scarves, and signs that say "Pride of London".

—Call her Mason, I’m sure she's in the stands —said Ben, while putting on the new shirt they played in today. Mason held his cell phone, sitting on the bench in the large locker room.

Today was Valentine's Day and Mason had a game. Your brother told Mason he was going out on a date with his girlfriend but you would go in his place, as usual. He didn't know if you were coming, so Mason was nervous, especially with the talk you had in his car.

You had called Debbie in the morning, asking her if you should come to the game, and she told you that Mason would be more than happy to see you there. You wondered if he knew what you were up to if your brother had kept him in the loop.

Pick it up.

The third tone rang while Ben tried to hold Mason, about to faint from anxiety. In the background, music was blasting from the speakers while the guys on the team began gathering in the locker room for their last talk before the game started.

Reece James leaned closer, curious why his teammate was sitting with his phone in hand, bouncing his leg nervously.

—What has got Mount that nervous? I've never seen him like this —he says to Ben, seated next to Mason, fixing his shoes.

—It's his girlfriend-

—She's not my girlfriend! —Mason interrupted Chilwell, with an expression of fear. You still haven't answered him and the fact that his friends were bothering him added to his anxiety.

—Give me that shit. —Suddenly Kai Havertz appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Mason's phone and putting the call on speaker. Everyone's attention was on the tones ringing, hoping you'll pick up. The team had witnessed your situationship since Mason had joined Chelsea, so they knew you quite well.

—Hi? Mason?

Kai, standing on the bench in the centre of the room, had the phone in his hand so everyone could hear. His eyes widened and his mouth also opened, in surprise. Everyone stood up while Mason's blood pressure went down.

With a jump, Havertz handed the cell phone to his friend so he could answer you. There was a silence between your response and his because his teammates were signalling to him, guiding him in his response.

—Yes? —That was the only thing he could think of at that moment.

—You... you've just called me minutes before your game. Is everything okay? Do you need something? —For you, it was strange that Mason called you, especially right before his game. Mason's teammates melt with your response, you seemed like a worried girlfriend.

—N-no, I was calling to know if you're on Stamford Bridge. —He stuttered, nervous about your answer. You smiled a bit, already seated between the blue tide of fans.

—Of course! I wouldn't miss a game for anything Mase. —And that was the end of him. He said goodbye saying that he had to go out and play and hoped you liked the game, while all his friends were shouting acknowledging that probably by the end of the year, they would have a new addition on their team.

The match ended with Chelsea winning by two goals and the assistance of Mason. You couldn't be more proud of him and after the exhilarating victory at Stamford Bridge, you made your way to the cooldown room, where players and staff often gather to unwind after the match.

As you entered, you spotted Mason, the hero of the game with his crucial assist. A sense of pride swelled within you as you approached him. He was putting something in his backpack, distracted.

—Incredible game out there, —you said, startling Mason. He turned with a smile, recognizing your voice without seeing your face.

—Thanks, this means a lot to me... —Mason replied, his face beaming with satisfaction. You both exchanged a few more words about the match, sharing our favourite moments and the atmosphere at the stadium. Then, out of the blue, Mason's tone turned slightly more serious.

—You know... —he said, pausing for a moment. —I've been thinking. We've been through so much together, your support has meant a lot to me.

You nodded, feeling a sense of tenderness with him. Mason took a deep breath before continuing. —Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner later. Just to say thanks for always being there, you know?

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, you couldn't help but smile. —I'd be honoured to join you. —You said, laughing out of nervousness.

A couple hours later, Mason kept his hand on your lower back as he led you through the restaurant, your body settled into his side. His hand slid around your waist while opening the door, a shiver already wracking your body. You gasped at the white snow starting to lay outside, thick flakes slowly falling from the sky.

—Look there! Mase, it's snowing! —You tugged a little on Mason's hand on your waist, the heat replacing the cold feeling on your fingers. There was already a pretty thick layer on the ground and you wondered briefly how long it had been snowing. —It's so pretty.

Mason watched your smile widen when he was paying the bill, as you tilted your head back, eyes squinting as the flakes cascaded down. He'd never seen anyone get so excited over snow.

You looked so good under the twinkling lights, the candle in the middle of the table illuminating half of your face. He was having an amazing time, already realizing he mad in love with you.

From the way you keep your hair in a messy ponytail to the way you are surprised by the snow. Everything about you was perfect for him.

—Do you want to go for a walk before I take you home? —He slid his hand over your jaw, his thumb stroking away the little flake on your cheek. You gave a small nod, flushed since all of this was new for you. He grinned before stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

—M'lady?

You looped your arm through his and the two of you started off down the street, his gaze darting between you and the falling snow. You snuggle as close as possible to him to steal some of his natural body heat.

Snow was falling and settling into Mason’s hair, individual flakes dropping onto his eyelashes and you were certain he’d never looked prettier.

—Remember the time I tried to sneak out and you caught me? That time I was actually grounded for fighting with my brother and I wanted to buy the new console game you were so interested in. —You said, recalling those silly things.

He didn't know if his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold or from what you'd just said.

—But that game was so expensive!

—I know! I just wanted to give you something for your birthday. That's why I didn't have any presents for you at your birthday party.

Mason caught your gaze, head cocking curiously at the sudden shy look that had taken over your features. You let your eyes wander from him to the snow-filled street around you. You slowed to a stop, right against the barriers of the little lake and you leant against it, the two of you facing each other, your hand still clasped in his.

All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him, you didn’t care who saw or if you got a cold, you just wanted to kiss him in the snow.

After a silence, he said: —You know I want you, right?

You looked at him. Surprised. Self-conscious Scared. But above all, in love.

—I've been thinking and I can't help falling for you now. I’m not jealous because you have other people in your life, I’m not a fucking kid. That time with Phil, at the party, made me realize that I want you with me... By my side. I want to be the one you say 'I love you' to, I want to be the one that cuddles you, that-

You interrupted him. —Mase, I… I don’t know how to say this… —Voice uncertain as you watched for his reaction, for any flicker of emotion that stated he didn't want that.

His face fell, and he retracted his hands from the barriers that before were trapping you between his body and the barriers. Ready for rejection, he looked into your eyes.

—I… I like you too. —You looked down, feigning sadness. When you looked up, he was squinting at you. —I don't know how are you convincing my brother you're good enough for me...

—I'd probably invite him to one of my games and we could go for dinner after the game? I'll book somewhere for us. —You matched his smile with a nod, shoulders relaxing slightly after the confession as you pulled your hand from his so you could settle your arms around his neck instead.

—Sounds amazing. Deep inside he's a West Ham fan, y'know. — Mason's face contorted a little when he bumped his nose against yours, lips lightly brushing together.

—Oh shut up, —he muttered into your lips, —let me kiss you.

And you obeyed, your hands resting nervously at his neck as he ravished you, his tongue begging for entrance. You allowed it, moaning into his lips as they intertwined perfectly. His hands travelled from your hair to your waist where he pushed you closer to him.

You indeed had waited your whole life for this.

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literaila · 11 months ago

Note

what does reader think of all the students at jujutsu tech ? is she like a proud mum when she meets yuji and nobara and is like "my son made friends" ? does megumi come home kn the weekends ? are they all sad when he officially starts there ?

trust that reader is everyone’s mom figure. she is the only person with any common sense, the most sane out of them all. if there’s a question that needs to be answered, reader should be the first person anyone goes to (someone might say otherwise but still)

satoru might say that you need to be a little “crazy” to be a jujutsu sorcerer, but you think he’s just projecting.

and you tell him this when you’re discussing megumi, talking about him living away from home—because jujutsu is immersive. it’s something you’re supposed to devote your lives to and you know this.

you do. really.

i mean, you lived there. you went to class with other sorcerers—satoru—and you know that you can’t half ass a career in jujutsu. you know.

but still, you can’t help but lay in bed with satoru and talk about megumi and ask him “does he really have to live there?” you’ll stare at satoru’s face. his half vacant eyes, tired from a day of work and all three of you. “he could come home at night and eat dinner. he could drive over with us.”

“what would the other first years say?”

“they wouldn’t have to know.”

you know you sound a bit naive. like a kid. but, honestly, didn’t satoru fall in love with you when you were one. why should it matter to either of you?

“what do you think nanami and haibara would’ve thought if you went home every night when you came to school?”

you give him a look, half joking. in no world would that have even been possible for you.

“okay,” he rolls his eyes. “what do you think suguru would’ve thought about me? if i went home every night to the gojo clan? or shoko?”

“they both made fun of you anyway.”

“megumi wants to go,” satoru reminds you like you don’t already know it. “do you want him to feel separated from his classmates?”

“stop,” you tell him, groaning into the side of his head. his hair smells like gumdrops and plums.

“i’m just saying,” satoru kisses behind your ear, his go-to method of distraction. “he’s a man.”

“he’s not.”

satoru shakes his head against yours, not saying anything.

“he’s not. you’re not even a man.”

the boy in question grins like this is what he was waiting for you to say. “and i still lived in the dorms, a building away from you.”

you sit up suddenly, thinking. “what if megumi falls in love with a classmate?”

satoru laughs.

“no, i’m serious—“

still, when megumi moves into his dorm room, you don’t even attempt to dissuade him. he seems… as giddy as he can get, carrying his boxes around campus like he didn’t spend half his childhood following you or satoru around.

you’re immensely glad that you agreed to work there with him in this moment. satoru says he has no idea when the other first years will show up—as per usual—and you don’t want megumi to be alone for long.

so it’s fortunate that satoru can introduce him to the now second years, and you can stand along slide megumi all the while, grinning at your pupils and nudging megumi to be polite.

you don’t get to watch satoru smile at your overprotective tendencies or proud-motherly instincts. he finds it… slightly adorable (and insanely attractive) to watch you fuss over your son like he’s a tiny little doll you can dress up.

and really, you’re just glad that megumi isn’t afraid of all of this like you were. that he had someone—two people—to show him the reins. that satoru is going to be there beside him the whole time, you just a classroom away.

yeah, you think, for just once, it’ll all be fine.

and then you get to hear all about satoru’s teaching methods from your new students (which ensues a whole… months worth of arguments).

#hehehe #thinking about reader watching over megumi from the sidelines #fawning over him when he starts to get close to yuuji #comforting him when the inevitable happens #and then beating satoru up when he tells her—#ah #good times #(all the second years love her and seriously question her sanity)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #a typical family

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foreverisntenough · 2 months ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - 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!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 16 - 'For Years’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11 k

The kitchen was oppressively quiet, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound cutting through the tension. Trent stood by the counter, his hands gripping the edge, while Jack leaned against the island, arms crossed defensively. The argument had drained them both, but the weight of Jack’s words still hung in the air like a heavy storm cloud.

“Jack, you knew I liked her,” Trent said, his voice tired but steady, his eyes locking onto Jack’s. “You knew this was happening, bro. Don’t act like this is some big shock.” He ran a hand over his face, his frustration barely contained. Jack let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the counter and turned away.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice cracking. He spun back around, his face a mix of anger and despair. “You just don’t fucking get it, Trent.” He sighed defeatedly. Jack was so hurt and now he had hurt you and he was afraid that he would never be able to forgive Trent. A million emotions crashing down on him.

“What don’t I get?” Trent demanded, his own voice rising. “I love her, Jack. I’d never hurt her. You know that.” Jack and Trent had spats before but nothing like this. This was uncharted and it didn’t seem to slowing down anytime soon.

“No! No, you don’t understand.” Jack’s hand slammed down on the island, the sound reverberating through the room. His voice broke, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He looked down at the counter, his shoulders shaking slightly, before finally raising his eyes to meet Trent’s. They were brimming with tears, his face etched with raw pain. “I don’t have our mum anymore,” Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with emotion. “I don’t have her. That…” He gestured toward the door you exited and had slammed shut moments earlier, his hand trembling. “Her. She’s the only bit of my mum I’ve got left. I only have her. She’s the only one in my life that makes things okay, that makes things feel whole. And you…” His voice cracked completely, and he shook his head, tears threatening to spill over. “You’re taking that from me. You’re fucking it up. You’re gonna hurt her, Trent. I’ve seen the wake you’ve left behind before with all the girls and you’re not doing it to her.” Jack’s words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on both of them. Trent stared at him, stunned into silence, his own throat tightening at the sight of his best friend breaking down. Jack’s hurt rifling through Trent.

“Jack,” Trent finally said, his voice softer, hesitant. He stepped closer, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should. “I’m not trying to take her away from you. I swear to God, I’d never come between you two. But I—” He swallowed hard, searching for the right words. “I love her. And I’m going to protect her with everything I have. I promise you, mate.” Jack laughed again, a hollow, bitter sound, as he swiped at his tears angrily.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Trent. Don’t say things you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” Jack shook his head that was currently pounding. He couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not,” Trent said quickly, stepping even closer, his voice firm now. “I mean it, Jack. I mean every word. I’ve loved her for a long time, and I’m not gonna let anything happen to her. Not ever. It’s the only reason we’re in this situation because I was protecting her, protecting us, our relationship. We didn’t want to hurt you and I was trying to help her from hurting…”

“You did though. You both fucking hurt me. The only people I trust. The only two constants in my life.” Jack shook his head, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything more, he didn’t need to. Trent felt worse than he had even minutes ago. This whole thing was getting more and more painful by the second. Jack just stood there, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, to gather his thoughts.

“I know it’s shit,” Trent said, his voice softening again. “But I need you to trust me. I’m not here to take her from you. She’s your sister, and she always will be. But I’m not going anywhere, Jack. I love you, you’re my brother but… I love her too much to walk away and I love her way too much to let anyone, even you, come in calling her fucking names like that because she’s none of the things you said and you know it.” Jack looked away, his jaw tightening as he wiped his face again. He knew Trent was right. You were none of those names he called. Honestly, jack felt horrible, he wanted to call you and apologize but he still loathed you for sleeping with his best friend so for now he let it lie. And then a silence fell between them, one that wasn’t as sharp now. It was heavy, yes, but not as cutting. It was the kind of silence that left room potentially for understanding, for healing. Trent stayed where he was, watching his best friend carefully, hoping that maybe—just maybe—Jack could see how much he meant what he said. For now, all they could do was stand there, the air thick with unspoken words and fragile hope. But the tension was dormant, it hadn’t left yet.

Your brother ran his hand over his hair, his anger slowly giving way to exhaustion. He moved and dropped onto the couch, his shoulders slumped, staring at the floor. Trent stood there, torn between staying silent and trying to make Jack understand. The tension between them remained thick, an uncomfortable silence still settling over the room. For a long moment after an even longer moment, neither of them spoke. Trent wanted to try to explain more, to say sorry to Jack and make him see how much you meant to him, but the words felt stuck in his throat. Jack’s face was a mix of frustration and hurt, and he looked like he was grappling with the betrayal he felt from his best friend and his sister. But then Trent took a tentative step forward, trying to bridge the gap again.

“Jack,” he started, his voice low, “I know you’re mad, and I get it. But you have to know, I—” Jack cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he muttered, his tone hard. “I don’t want to hear it, Trent. I don’t want to hear any more bullshit this morning.” Trent’s mouth snapped shut, his expression tightening. He wanted to fight for you, to defend what the two of you had, but maybe Jack was right—maybe it was pointless. Maybe nothing he said would make a difference. He turned to leave, feeling the weight of defeat settling in his chest, when Jack’s voice caused him to halt.

“Why her, Trent?” Jack sighed, the question hanging heavy in the air. His tone was softer now, more weary than angry. “Out of all the girls, god, you have so many fucking girls, why did it have to be her?” Trent stopped in his tracks, turning back to face his best friend. The question hung between them, laden with years of friendship, loyalty, and now, betrayal. Trent took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Jack's question pressing down on him.

“Because out of all the girls, it’s always been her. She’s not just another girl to me, Jack,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. Jack scoffed again. He murmured something under his breath too and even though Trent couldn’t hear it… he was starting to get a little annoyed with all the jabs.

“Fine, call me a playboy or whatever you were saying before but it’s a fucking low blow coming from you. Because you seemed to have no problem with my lifestyle before. And what you refuse to listen to is that I fucking love her. You know I do. I’ve been fucking embarrassing for her for years and you all loved to take the mick of me but you all knew it, you all knew it.! She’s everything. She’s different. She’s… she’s your sister, yeah, but she’s also the one person I’ve never been able to get out of my head. She’s the one person I’d do anything for.” Jack looked up, his eyes searching Trent’s for any hint of insincerity. He looked tired, defeated, like he was battling between protecting you and trusting Trent.

“Yeah and so what if you hurt her, huh?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What then when you break her heart? What happens to our friend group? You gonna come round for movies after that because you avoid the other girls you drop like the plague.” Jack quipped

“Aye. Jack. I’ll take a few snide remarks here and there but you’re toing the fucking line mate. If you have issues with me, then don’t call me your best mate, speak the fuck, step up.” Trent chirped. His own frustration hitting a boiling point.

“I don't have an issue with you. You’re my best mate. I have an issue with you fucking my sister.” Jack snapped, emphasizing the word. He couldn’t get the image of it out of his brain.

“Jack…” Trent’s face softened, his resolve firm. It was starting to feel like nothing would fix this. “I won’t hurt her mate. I can’t promise that things will always be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll never intentionally wrong her. I care about her too much for that. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.” Jack sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

“I don’t know, Trent. This is… it’s a lot to process. I just want her to be happy, and I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” Trent nodded, understanding the weight of Jack’s words.

“I get it. And I want the same. I don’t want to lose you, either. I just… I love her, Jack. I really do. And I hope someday you can see that and be okay with it because I’m not losing what she and I have either.” Jack didn’t respond right away, still staring at the floor, deep in thought. The room was filled with the echoes of emotions—anger, confusion, love, and a fragile hope that things could somehow work out. Trent took a seat next to Jack, the weight of their conversation settling between them like a heavy fog. He knew he had to try and make Jack understand, to show him why this wasn’t just some fling or reckless decision. Taking a deep breath, Trent began to speak, his voice steady but full of emotion. “Jack, you know she’s different,” Trent said softly, looking straight ahead, gathering his thoughts. “She knows me, really knows me. Not just as a footballer or some celebrity athlete, but as me— just Trent. She treats me like a normal person, not like someone who’s got everything figured out or someone who’s always in the spotlight. She makes me feel… grounded.” He confessed, hoping his honesty, his vulnerability could help Jack understand. Jack stared at the floor, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt. He could hear the sincerity in Trent’s voice, even though it made his stomach twist with an uncomfortable mix of emotions. “And she’s kind,” Trent continued, his gaze distant as if he were recalling every moment he had shared with you. “She’s so funny and smart, and she’s got this way of making everything feel brighter, better. She’s so beautiful inside and out. I’ve never met anyone like her, Jack, and I want to give her everything she deserves.” Trent was rambling, caught up in his thoughts of loving you. Jack felt a pang in his chest, a mixture of nausea and reluctant agreement. He knew you were all those things and more, but it stung to hear someone else say it, especially Trent. Although he also couldn’t deny that you deserved someone who saw you that way—who valued every bit of who you were.

Even though your mum was the one who had passed, sometimes it felt like your dad was gone too. Jack always felt like he had stepped into a parental role with you. He always imagined that if you ever got married he’d be the one to give you away but now the idea made him feel sick. This wasn’t even marriage but it felt that serious. Give you away to someone else? No, you were his baby sister. To Trent? No, you were his baby sister. All his thoughts felt like TV static, random patterns and crackly fuzzy noises, lost without a signal. Trent sighed, running a hand over his hair, feeling the frustration and vulnerability of sounding like a lovesick fool. But that’s exactly what he was. He was head over heels, and there was no hiding it anymore. “I know I sound ridiculous,” he admitted, a faint smile touching his lips despite the seriousness of the moment. “But I can’t help it. I’m crazy about her, mate and I’m sorry I am.” Jack leaned back on the couch, dropping his head against the cushions, feeling torn between his protective instincts and the truth in Trent’s words. He stared at the ceiling, searching for the right thing to say but coming up empty. His mind was spinning, trying to reconcile his protective nature with the reality that his best friend might genuinely love his sister. But all he could do was mutter the question that had been gnawing at him again and again, his voice barely audible, tinged with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

“Whyyyyy herrr, bro?” He groaned once over. Trent turned to look at Jack, his expression earnest and open.

“I told you bro, because she’s it, Jack. She’s the one I can’t stop thinking about, the one who makes everything better just by being there. She’s… she’s everything I’ve been ever wanted bro. I tried for years to push it down. I really tried but she’s just it for me.” Jack closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. He wasn’t sure how to feel or what to think. Part of him wanted to be angry, to hold onto the frustration and betrayal. But another part of him, the part that loved both you and Trent, couldn’t deny that maybe, just maybe, this could be something real, something worth risking it all for. Jack didn’t respond. The silence between them grew heavier, pressing down on Trent’s chest like a weight he couldn’t lift. The frustration and disappointment swirled within him, but he fought to keep his composure. He could feel the anger bubbling up, a mix of helplessness and heartbreak that he couldn’t quite shake. Trent stood up, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to find the right words, something to mend the growing rift between them. But nothing came to mind, nothing that would make this right. He realized then that maybe there wasn’t anything he could say to change Jack’s mind, at least not now. “I’m sorry, mate, I really am.” Trent said quietly, his voice thick with regret. It was the only thing he could manage, the only thing that felt right in the moment. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the frustration and fatigue. As he did, the reality of the situation settled in—he might have lost you and his best friend in one fell swoop. It didn’t matter how much he tried to tell Jack he loved you. It didn’t matter. This had turned into a disaster far beyond anything he had imagined. Jack stood up abruptly and walked out of the house, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him with every step. As he reached his car, he paused, looking back at Trent’s house—his second home for so many years. It felt foreign to him now, like he no longer belonged. He climbed into his car and sat there for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his mind racing with thoughts of you and Trent. He wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but Trent’s words kept echoing in his mind. He knew Trent well enough to see that his feelings were real, and as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t deny the sincerity in his best friend’s voice. Jack felt a pang of worry for you. Despite his inability to fully grasp Trent’s feelings, he could feel the depth of them. Trent stayed inside, his thoughts in turmoil. He stood up walked to the window, peering out into the morning haze. He saw Jack sitting in his car, his posture tense and shoulders slumped in deep hurt. A part of Trent wanted to go out there, to hash things out once more, but he stayed rooted to the spot, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions. Trent couldn’t shake his concern for you. Where were you now? Were you safe? His stomach twisted at the thought of you being out there alone, upset and vulnerable. The urge to find you was overwhelming, but he knew he had to give you space. He knew he had to respect whatever decision you made, even if it meant walking away from both you and Jack. Jack finally started the car and pulled out of the driveway, his heart heavy with regret and worry. The day hadn’t gone exactly as he had expected, and as he drove away, he couldn’t help but feel the sting of everything he had lost because of you two.

After storming out of Trent’s house, the adrenaline that had fueled your exit began to dissolve, leaving behind a crashing wave of emotions. Your chest felt like it was caving in as you called Layla, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Jack… He knows,” you wailed into the phone, your voice trembling.

“Oh, holy fuck,” she exclaimed, her tone instantly shifting to alarm. “Come over now. Are you okay to drive? Where are you?” Through hiccupped sobs, you explained you were driving aimlessly, unsure where to go or how to calm down. Layla’s steady reassurance managed to keep you grounded just enough to get you to her place. When you finally arrived, she was already waiting for you in the parking lot. As soon as you stepped out of the car, you collapsed into her arms, your body trembling as you clung to her.

“I’ve got you, babe,” she murmured softly, stroking your hair. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” Upstairs in her apartment, you let it all pour out between gasping breaths and fresh tears. You told her everything—how Jack had barged into Trent’s house ferociously seething, he and Trent’s arguing waking you, how he discovered the truth, how he lashed out and called you a slut. The sting of his words was still fresh, but it paled in comparison to your despair as you repeated what Jack had said about Trent telling every girl he loved them. That you were one of many. Layla sat there, eyes wide, taking in every detail with a mix of shock and frustration. When you finally stopped to catch your breath, your hands shaking as you wiped at your tear-streaked face, she took a deep breath, stood up, and walked to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“We need wine,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for debate. She returned with two glasses and a bottle, setting them down with purpose. “Okay, you’re not going to like hearing this,” she said, pouring the wine, “but I think you need to talk to Trent again. Get the truth from him. And I mean his truth, not Jack’s interpretation of it, not with his opinions ransacking Trent’s ability to tell you how he truly feels.” She cooed gently.

“I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head as tears welled up again. “What if Jack’s right? What if I’m just… nothing to him? I couldn’t hear that the love is a lie.” Layla handed you a glass and placed a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Listen to me. I’ve seen the way Trent looks at you, and that’s not nothing. Whatever Jack said, whatever doubts you’re feeling, you owe it to yourself to get the whole story. And honestly? Jack didn’t mean what he said. He’s upset, hun. Hurt, definitely. And obviously mad but none of that changes the way Trent is around you, has been around you, for years.” She looked at you sympathetically.

“Maybe but Lay… God but you should’ve heard the way Jack spoke to me. I’ve never heard him like that. Sure we used to go at each other but this was poignant and honestly just mean” You continued rattling on and felt a bit queasy even admitting that Jack called you those names. Belittling you to a slut who was desperate for any attention you could find, that was merely a fling to Trent, he couldn't possibly love. Layla nodded along biting her tongue. She wanted to call Jack right now and scream at him, although this really was sounding more and more like a bigger mess but she was trying to be supportive and reasonable.

“Okay, okay. First, Jack doesn’t think you’re a slut, he probably was just pissed that he caught you guys not even on a date but like… well, there were clothes missing.” She smirked sympathetically. You nodded with a sniffle and a sad giggle. “Second, Trent loves you. He does. I know it, he told you in front of Jack right?” You nodded again. “I think maybe you all just need a minute to come up for some air.”

“I just… You should’ve seen Jack, I’ve never seen him so mad. And yeah, it’s one thing for him to say shit to me, I know he probably didn’t mean it and yeah, it hurt but I’m just scared that he won’t forgive me… Like Layla… Am I meant to go home?” You asked bewildered at the circumstances you were finding yourself in.

“Of course, it’s Jack. He’s always taken care of you but you’re welcome here as always until you feel like you want to see him.” Layla cooed gently. You nodded, her words slowly sinking in. For now, though, the wine and Layla’s presence were the only things keeping you from falling apart completely.

“I think that’s what’s scaring me. If he wants what’s best for me.. Don't you think it’s odd he is this against me with Trent.” You looked at her inquisitively.

“Erm… I mean. I guess we’ve always known about Trent” Layla cautiously chose her words. “You know and his… escapades.” You felt the bile rise in your throat. Layla paused, watching your face closely, and set her glass down on the coffee table. “Hey, don’t get that look,” she said quickly, placing a comforting hand on your arm. Her touch was firm but kind, grounding you. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean… Jack’s probably thinking about all the girls Trent’s been with, and he’s worried about you. But that doesn’t mean Trent’s like that with you. In my opinion he’s nothing like that with you. He’s a fool for you.” You stared at your wine glass, swirling the liquid absentmindedly as tears threatened to fall again.

“But what if I am just another one of them? What if Jack’s right? What if I’m just… stupid for thinking this could be real?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the vulnerability you tried so hard to mask slipping through. Layla frowned, tilting her head sympathetically.

“Y/N, listen to me,” she said firmly, pulling your gaze to hers. “Trent’s not perfect—none of us are—but you’re not just another girl to him. I mean, you’ve known him your whole life. Do you really think he’d risk all of this, risk losing Jack as his best mate, if he didn’t care and love so deeply about you?” You shrugged helplessly, setting your glass down with shaky hands.

“It’s just… I can’t shake what Jack said. He was so furious, Layla. And it’s not just Trent. I feel like I’ve ruined everything with Jack too. He’s always been my rock, and now…” Your voice wavered, and you felt the lump in your throat grow larger. “I don’t even know if we’ll ever be okay again. It feels like I’ve broken something we can’t fix.” Layla scooted closer to you, her arm looping around your shoulders.

“Jack will come around,” she said softly, her voice filled with quiet confidence. “He’s mad now, sure, but he loves you. You two have been through way too much together for this to be the thing that tears you apart. He needs you as much as you need him. And honestly?” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It sounds like he’s more scared than anything. Scared of losing you, scared of seeing you hurt. He’s lashing out because he doesn’t know how else to handle it.” You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear.

“And what about Trent?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if Layla could predict the future. “Do I just… go home and pretend this never happened? I can’t face either of them right now. I feel like everything is just… ruined.” Layla gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“I think you need to take a breath first. You’ve been running on pure emotion all day and into the night, and it’s all too raw. But eventually, yeah, like I said, you need to talk to Trent. You told him you loved him. He told you he loved you, Y/N! That’s not something you can just ignore.” She paused, her hand rubbing small circles on your back. “And honestly? You deserve to hear him out—without Jack’s anger clouding everything… serious.” You nodded slowly, her words sinking in despite the turmoil in your heart.

“But I don’t even know where to start with Jack,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “What if this just… breaks us? What if he never forgives me?” Layla leaned back, her eyes filled with a mixture of empathy and determination. “Sorry I keep asking the same questions, but they just keep coming. I’m such a fool.” You whimpered feeling the tears returning, you were so embarrassed.

“Y/N… you’re fine to vent but it won’t break you,” she said confidently. “It might take time, and it might not be easy, but you and Jack? You’re family. Nothing will ever change that. He might be angry now, but he loves you more than anything, Y/N. That’s why he’s so worked up in the first place. He just needs time to process everything.” You exhaled shakily, your chest tightening at the thought of how much damage had been done.

“It just hurts so much, Lay,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “I hate that I’ve hurt him. I hate that I’ve hurt Trent too. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen like this.” Layla nodded knowingly, her hand squeezing your arm.

“I know, babe. None of this was intentional. You’ve been juggling so much—your feelings for Trent, your loyalty to Jack—and it all just came to a head. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You can fix this. It’s just going to take some time, and a lot of talking. And maybe some wine.” She gave you a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. You let out a weak laugh, the sound surprising even you.

“You think wine will fix this?” you asked, wiping at your tear-streaked face.

“Maybe not completely,” she admitted, standing to refill both of your glasses. “But it can’t hurt, can it? A hangover in the morning is better than heartache at night.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on you. Finally, Layla turned to you, her voice softer now. “You’ll figure it out, Y/N. You always do. And until you’re ready to face them, I’m here. We’ll get through this together.” Her words brought a flicker of comfort, and you leaned into her, letting yourself feel the safety of her presence. From there, the night spiraled into chaos as you and Layla uncorked bottle after bottle of wine. The first one went down quickly, fueled by tears and frustration. By the second, you’d started slurring your words, laughing bitterly at memories of Trent and Jack, the ache in your chest dulling only slightly with each sip.

“I mean, Layla, what the fuck am I doing with my life?” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-crying as you tipped your glass back.

“You’re living, babe. That’s all any of us are doing,” Layla replied, her own cheeks flushed from the alcohol as she tried to keep pace with you. “At least you were getting good sex out of yours.” She laughed. You giggled swatting at her. Somewhere between the third and fourth bottles, coherence slipped away entirely. You were sprawled on Layla’s couch, gesturing wildly as you ranted about Trent’s smile, Jack’s anger, your mum, the sex, and the mess you felt you’d made of your life.

“And you know what’s funny?” you hiccuped, mascara streaking down your cheeks as you waved your nearly empty glass. “I love him, Layla. Like, I love him. But it’s not fair, ‘cause I hurt Jack. And I don’t even—hic—I don’t even know how to fix it but god, do I fucking love him. He’s Trent…” Your eyes fluttering closed and then barely opening again. “He’s my Trenty.” You slurred as your eyes fluttered closed a little longer his time. Layla sat beside you, nodding along with exaggerated seriousness, though her own head was starting to spin.

“I know. But you’ll fix it. You always do. Both of those boys always help you fix things,” she said, her voice soft and soothing as she refilled your glass—probably against her better judgment. Eventually, the weight of the night—and the sheer amount of wine—caught up to you. Your words turned into incoherent murmurs, and you slumped against the cushions, your head lolling to the side, eyes starting to gently close,

“Lay…” you mumbled, barely audible, as you officially dozed off in your heartbreak and into your hangover. “I love my T” you whispered a slur of your last words for the evening. Layla sighed, setting her own glass down. She popped to her bedroom and grabbed a pack of makeup wipes and came back to find you completely zonked out.

“Oh, babe,” she pouted sadly seeing your state, she knelt beside you and gently wiped at your tear-streaked face, the trails of your mascara gone one drip at a time. “You’re gonna be okay.” She whispered as you shifted slightly, letting out a soft, unconscious sigh as she cleaned off the smudges of makeup and wine stains around your lips. Layla couldn’t help but smile fondly, despite the wreck you’d become. “At least you’ll wake up with clean skin,” she joked quietly to herself, even though you were long past hearing her. She tossed the wipe in the bin and grabbed a blanket, draping it over your limp form. Sitting back on the couch, she watched you sleep, her heart heavy for you. Maybe this wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with everything, but Layla figured a hangover was easier to manage than the heartbreak you were drowning in. As she turned off the lights and settled into her chair just to stay with you, Layla made a mental note to stock up on paracetamol and plenty of water for the morning. You were going to need it.

You stayed at Layla’s for two days like that. In and out of tears and laughter until you got a call. Megan had, unsurprisingly, heard about the whole Trent fiasco from Jack. The details, of course, were likely skewed by Jack’s version, but she didn’t dwell on them when she called you. Instead, she extended a casual olive branch, a sort of sisterly outreach.

“How about dinner?” she asked, her tone light but knowing. “You, Layla, me, and Jess. Just us girls. We can catch up. Blow off some steam.” At first, you hesitated. The idea of sitting through a dinner with Megan, who was now very aware of your tangled and chaotic relationship with Trent and Jack, felt awkward, almost unbearable. But Layla, ever the voice of reason, nudged you toward accepting.

“It’ll be good for you,” she said, her tone firm. “You’ve been cooped up too long, sulking. Go. Eat some food, have some drinks, and if anything, we’ll get some entertainment out of it.” She smiled. With some reluctance, you agreed.

The restaurant Megan picked was trendy but cozy, with low lighting and soft chatter filling the space. Layla tugged you inside, her arm linked with yours, as Megan and Jess waved from a table in the corner. You offered a tentative smile, still unsure about how the evening would go. Dinner with them turned out to be more of a lifeline than you expected. Layla had practically shoved you out the door, insisting that it was exactly what you needed to clear your head and reset. By the time you arrived at the chatter and clinking glasses already made you feel a little lighter.

“Hey, you!” Megan stood up to greet you warmly, pulling you into a quick hug, while Jess stayed seated offering just a wave from the table with an easy smile. “You look amazing,” Megan complimented, smoothing down her own sleek dress. “Now sit. We’re ordering all the cocktails. Don’t worry. No lectures tonight. Promise.” The evening started slow, small talk filling the gaps where tension from the ‘Trent fiasco’ lingered.

“Yeah, just cocktails and gossip. Nothing heavy.” Jess chimed in with a smirk. As the conversation flowed, Megan surprised you. She didn’t pry into the drama, didn’t dissect the situation with Trent or Jack. Instead, she let you set the pace, dropping the occasional witty comment to lighten the mood but it naturally crept in. Cocktail number three had Jess breaking her earlier promise.

“Genuinely, girl,” Jess began, leaning in conspiratorially, “when we saw you at the shops the other month, there was literally no intention of shade. I didn’t even know until I heard people saying they saw you two together,” Jess said, her laugh easy as she sipped her cocktail. Jess drunkenly addressed the elephant in the room. “But you’ll sort it, he cares about you too much. He’s in love.” She slurred. You hummed with a sheepish smile, trying to focus on the laughter and not on the ache still lingering in your chest.

“It’s been…a lot,” you admitted, glancing at Layla, who gave you a reassuring nod. You smiled sheepishly, swirling the straw in your drink.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Megan chimed in, reaching for a fry from the shared platter in the middle of the table. “But Jack will come around. He’s dramatic, but he always gets over things.” Megan said, her tone softer. “Honestly, he’s being a little hypocritical. He could probably take a page or two from Trent on boldness.” The table erupted in laughter, Jess almost choking on her drink as she pointed a finger at Megan.

“Boldness? You mean reckless, right?” Jess yelped.

“Same thing,” Megan quipped with a grin, raising her glass. It wasn’t the escape you expected, but it felt like a breath of fresh air. By the time the waiter brought over another round of drinks, you’d started to relax, the heaviness in your chest loosening just a little.

“Wait, sorry what do you guys mean?” You asked inquisitively with a raised eyebrow.

“Well,” Megan began, twirling her straw as she leaned back in her chair, “it wouldn’t kill Jack to be a bit bolder. You know, actually say how he feels for once instead of just brooding and sulking about it. Trent might’ve been impulsive, but at least he’s putting himself out there for you.”

“That’s quintessential Jack. Acting like he’s got a monopoly on morality, but has he even told you, Meg?” Layla laughed, taking another swig of her drink.

“Told me what?” Megan asked with mock innocence, her lips curving into a sly smile.

“You know,” Jess teased, nudging her with a knowing look. Megan rolled her eyes dramatically.

“No, he hasn’t said it. And yes, it’s getting annoying. But I’m not exactly waiting around for a rom-com declaration. Maybe, he’ll get there eventually.” Megan explained. Jess laughed, breaking the tension.

“Jack’s a slow burn, that’s for sure. But Megan’s right. He’ll come around. And so will he when it comes to you and Trent,” she added, her tone softer as she looked at you. You felt a flicker of hope but still hesitated.

“I just…I don’t know how to fix everything. It feels like such a mess.” You whimpered.

“Messy is part of life,” Megan said firmly. “And besides, Jack knows you’re more than important to Trent. He’s just not great at sharing. Give him a bit of time. And in the meantime,” she added, raising her glass, “you’ve got us. So drink up.” She smiled. There was a pause and you felt a little bad knowing Jack wasn’t being very communicative with Megan.

“Sorry if he’s an ass,” you spoke up, offering Megan a sheepish smile. “He’s not usually… well, I guess sometimes lately.” Megan waved you off with a laugh, swirling her cocktail lazily.

“He’s fine. We’re both grown; we make our own beds.” She gave you a knowing look before adding with a smirk, “Anyways, forget them. They’re both idiots.” She raised her glass high, her tone turning playful. “Cheers to being hot—something they can’t take away from us.” You couldn’t help but laugh, clinking your glass against hers.

“I’ll drink to that.” Layla leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “See? Yes, Meg. That’s the vibe.” Layla chirped and then looked to you. “You’re hot. Let that be on your mind tonight.” She clinked her glass with yours and Megan’s before turning to Jess. “And you’re hot. And you’re hot,” she added, pointing to everyone around the table.

“We’re all hot,” Jess quipped with a laugh, raising her glass.

“Let’s go out after this,” Layla suggested, her voice filled with excitement. “A proper girls’ night. No boys, no drama, just us having a good time.”

“Oooo! Where are we thinking?” Megan raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Anywhere with strong drinks and good music,” Layla declared. “I want to dance and I want to drink and I want to let loose.” She beamed. You hesitated for a moment, but then eventually nodded.

“Yeah, why not? Fuck it! Let’s do it.” You cooed, finishing the last of your drink.

“Now that’s the energy we need,” Megan said, grinning as she clinked her glass with yours again. With plans set post dinner, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, and you felt the tension from earlier start to ease. Maybe a night out was exactly what you needed to reset, to laugh, and to forget—for just a little while. For the first time in days, you felt a sliver of normalcy creeping back in. And maybe they were right—things could be fixed and a night out might be the perfect first step.

The club was packed, a cacophony of bass reverberating through the walls and bodies. The air was heavy with sweat, perfume, and the sting of liquor. Dim lighting flashed sporadically, red and blue hues painting the crowd in an otherworldly glow. You loved to go out to drink and forget. It was chaos—your usual solace—but tonight, the comfort it offered felt brittle, superficial. The throngs of people barely registered as you stepped inside, your heart hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with the music. Going out had always been your escape, a quick fix for a restless soul. But as soon as you crossed the threshold, it was as though the air shifted. You saw him. Trent stood near the bar, under the pulse of red and blue lights that caught the sharp line of his jaw and the dark pools of his eyes. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Neither of you had known the other’s location or plans tonight, but fate had intervened cruelly. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in slow motion. His gaze was fixed on you, unreadable and devastating all at once. Your steps faltered. Time slowed. The heat of the room became suffocating. Layla, beside you, froze mid-stride.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the music.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Jess murmured, nudging Megan’s arm as her wide eyes flitted between you and Trent. You couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to, and yet, seeing him was like reopening a wound you’d barely begun to heal. Your heart broke all over again as his expression shifted, the tiniest flicker of something—longing? Hurt?—crossing his face. Layla grabbed your arm gently, trying to anchor you and turning you back to face the girls.

“Do not go over there. Find someone new tonight,” Jess urged, her voice firmer but nevertheless sloppier now from all the drinks, trying to shield you from the spiral she could already see forming.

“No, no, no,” Layla cut in quickly, pressing a drink into your hand as though the cool glass could steady you. “We’re just going to ignore him, okay? Ignore him. Focus on us.” Her tone was soothing but insistent. Megan, always the calm voice of reason, leaned closer to you, her hand brushing your arm.

“Y/N,” she asked gently, her voice maternal, “do you want to see him? Or do you want to leave? Whatever you need, we’ll do.” You swallowed hard, the burn of unshed tears pricking your eyes. You didn’t know the answer. All you knew was that your safe haven—the chaos of a club—felt anything but comforting tonight. The club pulsed around you, the bass reverberating through your chest as the lights flickered in hypnotic shades illuminating the sheen of your heated exposed skin. Layla, Jess, and Megan stood before you, their voices overlapping with questions—pressing, prying, desperate for you to make a choice or say something definitive. But you couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the music. The words felt fragile, as if they might break apart entirely. You stared at them, wide-eyed, as a lump formed in your throat. The haze of neon lights and the cacophony of sound made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. It was all too much. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but your mind was elsewhere. You were back here. Back in this club where it had all started—where you’d first kissed Trent. That night felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory was sharp, fresh. It cut through you now, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. Had it all been a mistake? Should you have never crossed that line? The girls’ voices grew distant, muffled by the roar of your own thoughts. You barely registered Jess saying something when Layla’s expression suddenly shifted, her eyes going wide. And then you felt it—a large, warm, firm hand wrapping around your waist. Time seemed to slow as your breath caught, your heart hammering in your chest. You turned, and there he was. Trent.

He looked at you with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs, his dark eyes soft but smoldering. His hand stayed on your waist, anchoring you as the world blurred around you. No words passed between you, but in that one look, everything was said. It was magnetic. Explosive. Inevitable. You were fueled by sheer uncontrollable impulsivity. Your lips crashed into his, and the world around you disappeared. The music, the crowd, the girls—it all melted away. All you could feel was him, his hands pulling you closer, his kiss stealing every ounce of hurt and replacing it with something electric, something whole. In that moment, it didn’t matter if it was right or wrong. It didn’t matter what anyone thought or said. This was all you wanted. All you needed. Trent.

Megan exchanged a concerned glance with Layla, silently asking if they should step in. Layla hesitated, her lips parting as if to say something, but then she shook her head with a small sigh.

“No,” Layla said, crossing her arms as she watched you and Trent, completely lost in each other. “They’re going to go home together tonight. They can’t be apart even if they tried. And they shouldn't be apart. Even if it’s not the smartest—”

“Doesn’t have to be smart,” Jess interrupted, her voice sincere but carrying a faint smile; coming to the realization that you didn't a new man tonight like she had earlier suggested, you needed your man. “He loves her. Let them do it their way.” Megan looked between the two of them, her brow furrowed, but she ultimately nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” she said softly. "They're so in love with each other. We'll just let it play out.” She sighed feeling empathy for you, for Trent, and for Jack. Layla let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s all they can do. I don’t think they can be apart. Look at them.” The three of them fell quiet, watching as Trent cupped your face, pulling you impossibly closer. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a declaration, one they could all feel as they distanced themselves further across the room from you two. Whatever complications lay ahead, whatever mess this might create, none of it mattered in the moment.

“To doing it their way, then.” Jess raised her drink, the faintest hint of a smirk on her face.

“To them being idiots in love.” Layla clinked her glass against Jess’s with a wry grin. "idiots that we support." Layla corrected quickly.

“To them surviving Jack.” Megan sighed but finally raised her glass as well, fearing for the fallout to continue.

You moaned Trent's name softly, his lips crashing into yours with a feverish desperation. His hands gripped your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as if trying to pull you even closer, as if that were possible. Every touch, every kiss, every movement felt charged with a frantic kind of need. Your chest pressed against his, your hardened nipples brushing through the slinky metal mesh fabric of your dress, and you gasped at the sensation, your body melting into his like it was meant to be there.

"Wait," you gasped, breaking the kiss with effort, your forehead resting against his as you tried to catch your breath. "Wait, wait. I'm sorry. Stop. We can't." But even as the words left your lips, your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, holding him close, betraying the battle waging inside you.

"We can, baby. I should've kissed you first ages ago," he said, his voice raw and uneven. His hands didn't leave your body, sliding up your waist as if he couldn't bear to let go. "I'm sorry I waited so long. But you're all I've ever wanted, pretty girl. You. Only you. Please, we can do this." His words hit you hard, and your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his voice.

"Wait... so you don't regret it? Any of it?" you asked, wide-eyed, shocked by the weight of what he was saying.

"Never, none," he said, the conviction in his tone piercing through the haze of your thoughts. His lips brushed against yours, not quite kissing you but so close that your resolve was crumbling with every second that passed.

"Baby, but maybe we shouldn't do this," you murmured once more, your voice trembling, though your hands were already trailing down his chest, betraying the truth that you didn't want to stop. You couldn't get the threat this relationship brought out of your head. You were scared.

"I fucking love you so much," he said, his voice breaking, filled with a raw, aching desperation. "Please. I need you." His words shattered what was left of your defenses. Hearing him plead, hearing the man you'd dreamed about for so long finally lay himself bare, destroying any lingering doubts.

"I want you, T," you whimpered, finally surrendering, your lips finding his again in a messy, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body greedily, tracing every curve as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

"I want you more. Even if it’s just one last time for me," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a blazing path that sent shivers through your body. You whimpered, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as his hands moved over your skin, his touch setting you on fire.

"T..." you gasped, unsure if it was a plea to stop or to keep going.

"I'm yours, baby," he whispered, his voice shaking as he kissed along your collarbone. "Always have been. Always will be." You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips worked their way up to your jaw. Every nerve in your body was alight, every inch of you responding to him like a magnet, drawing you closer and closer. The world around you disappeared. The music, the noise of the club, the people - none of it mattered. It was just him. Just you and him, tangled in this moment, where everything finally felt right. Where nothing else existed but the way he made you feel. You shifted to stand in front of him, your body naturally falling into sync with the rhythm of the music. With a teasing smile playing on your lips, you turned your back to him, your hips beginning to move in slow, deliberate circles. Your ass pressed firmly against his growing arousal, and you felt him stiffen behind you. The pressure sent a jolt through you, desire coursing through your veins. It was deliberate, but you pretended it was nothing more than a casual sway to the music. Except it wasn't. This was your way of drawing him closer, of melting into him, of saying everything you didn't have the words for. Leaning back against his chest, you tilted your head all the way up, inviting him closer. And Trent, unable to resist you even for a second, dipped his head down until his lips were back on your neck.

"Can you fuck me tonight... please?" you murmured, your voice trembling with raw need. There was no pretense, no coyness. It was a plea, dripping with desperation, but the way your lips pouted as you said it, the way your eyes glistened as they looked up at him, made it something more. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he froze. He hadn't come over intending for this to happen. He wasn't even sure what his plan had been. Maybe to talk, maybe to just be near you, but now? Now, all he could think about was you. This wasn't smart. Jack's fury was still fresh in his mind, and he knew the fallout of taking you home tonight would be intense. But the way you felt against him, the way you looked at him like he was the only person in the room, like you needed him more than air-it erased every ounce of logic he had left. He slid his hands down your waist, gripping your hips as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"We're going home now, baby," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. You felt the shiver that ran through him, the way his hands tightened on you for just a second before he pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes.

"Take me home," you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with certainty. His hands stilled for a moment. The intensity there stole your breath, and for a second, neither of you moved. Then, without a word, he took your hand, and you let him lead you out into the night, leaving everything else behind. There was no hesitation in his steps, no second-guessing. He wasn't going to say no to you.

The second you stepped into Trent's house, it felt like slipping into a familiar rhythm. Neither of you needed to say much-the pull between you was undeniable. Clothes were shed piece by piece, like a ritual you both knew by heart. Trent sank down onto his couch, pulling you into his lap with practiced ease. You straddled him, your hands cupping his face as your lips found the soft skin of his neck. His hands were everywhere-your hips, your thighs, tracing patterns up your back as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he murmured, his voice deep and reverent as he peeled your dress over your head. You paused, your chest tightening as you stared down at him.

"T.." Your voice cracked. "I love you so much." The tears came suddenly, spilling over before you could stop them.

"Hey, hey, hey. You're okay, baby," Trent whispered, his tone gentle but firm as he held you close. He moved his hands to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streaked your cheeks. "We don't have to do anything. Just please don't cry." He tried to settle you, throwing the idea of sex out the window. He couldn’t watch you upset anymore. He’d had enough and if that would fix things then so be it.

"No, no, no," you insisted, your voice trembling. "I want you. I'm sorry, baby." You leaned in, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze.

"Y/N.." he began softly, his hands steadying you. "I will love you no matter what, okay? Tonight, tomorrow, and every day after that." You sniffled, nodding as his words sank in, anchoring you.

"Okay... Can you love me right now?" you whispered, your voice shifting into something softer, more pleading. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your hands skimming over his chest and tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. His lips twitched into a small smile.

"Yeah, right now." He helped you pull his shirt over his head, and his hands immediately found your waist as you ground against him. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you that you were his. One hand slid up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back. The move was possessive, deliberate, as he lowered his mouth to yours. He kissed you fiercely, his teeth catching your bottom lip before he tugged it lightly. The sharpness of it sent a shiver through you. His mouth moved to your neck, and you gasped as he found that spot just below your ear-the one that always made you weak. His lips latched onto the sensitive skin, his tongue soothing as he sucked hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned, your fingers gripping his hair to hold him close. The sting of his teeth sinking into the same spot made you hiss, but it was more pleasure than pain, a sensation that sent heat racing through you.

"God, you taste so good," Trent groaned against your neck, his hands sliding up your back and pulling you impossibly closer. Your body moved instinctively, arching into him, desperate to feel more.

"T..." you whimpered, his name a plea on your lips. Trent's hand moved higher on your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair before he gave it a firm tug. Your moan escaped, soft yet desperate, sending a jolt through his entire body. His eyes darkened, desire etched into every feature as you pushed him backward against the couch. He let out a low groan, his hands sliding up to knead your breasts as you leaned into him. His lips followed, teasing your skin with open-mouthed kisses until he reached your nipples. His tongue flicked over one, then the other, before sucking gently, the sensation making you arch into him. You could feel the press of his cock against you, hard and insistent through the thin fabric of his boxers. The dampness there left no doubt in your mind just how much he wanted you. "You want to fuck me right now, T?" you murmured, your voice breathy as your wide, tear-filled eyes met his. The vulnerability in your gaze paired with the seductive grind of your dripping core against his length sent him over the edge.

"Baby, you have no idea," he rasped. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he lined himself up. Slowly, he lifted you, his tip teasing your entrance before he pulled you down, filling you completely in one smooth motion. The stretch was delicious, a mix of pleasure and just enough pain to make your breath hitch. "You're such a good girl for me. You okay, baby?" Trent asked, his voice husky as he watched your face. You nodded, adjusting for just a moment before you began to move. The friction was exquisite, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He matched your rhythm effortlessly, thrusting up to meet you with every bounce of your hips.

"I love you so much, baby," you whimpered, your voice cracking as the knot in your stomach tightened. Trent's gaze was locked on you, his pupils blown wide as he took in every detail-your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted, the bounce of your tits with each movement. His large hands slid up your body, thumbs grazing your nipples before pinching gently.

"I love you. Fuck, I love you so much," he groaned, his words catching as your walls clenched around him You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settled on your waist. His lips found yours again, and the kiss was all-consuming, a mixture of passion and tenderness. The filthy sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, creating a backdrop to the intimate moment. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as the overwhelming pleasure and emotion of the moment hit you. Trent's gaze softened as he noticed, his thrusts never faltering but his touches turning gentle. "Such a good girl for me," he murmured, his voice full of reverence. "Doing so good for me. Taking me so well." His fingers slipped between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The combination was too much, the knot inside you threatening to snap. You moaned his name, your head falling back as your body surrendered completely to him. Every movement, every touch, was like poetry-perfectly in sync, each of you giving and taking in equal measure. You were his, and he was yours, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck! I love you so much oh my god.” You cried out as your lips parted before his hips met yours again. Trent wanted to hear the sounds you were making forever on repeat. The knot in your stomach tightened before it snapped as tears fell. You clenched tighter around his throbbing cock. He took his fingers off your clit to wipe away your tears sweetly then kissing your neck lovingly.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum, yeah?” He grunted out. And you nodded while his cock twitched deep inside you, painting your insides. You continued moaning as you rode him through his orgasm until both of your movements stilled. Your body collapsing onto his, your skin stuck to his.

"Please love me forever," you whispered, your voice cracking with exhaustion and emotion. It came out barely audible, a pathetic plea that made Trent's chest tighten. You sounded so small, so vulnerable, as though the weight of the world rested on his response. He held you close, his arms enveloping your limp, exhausted body. You relaxed fully against him, surrendering everything to this moment. The sheen of sweat on your bare skin caught the soft light filtering through the room, accentuating the delicate curve of your spine. Trent's fingers moved down it gently, tracing each vertebra like a silent promise.

"'l'll love you forever, Y/N," he murmured, his voice firm yet tender, carrying a hint of a smirk even as he panted from exertion. He pressed a kiss just behind your ear, his lips lingering there as though the act itself might seal his words into your very soul. Your breathing evened out, your cheek squished against his chest as your body melted into his. The rise and fall of his heartbeat beneath your ear was hypnotic, grounding you in the safety of his arms.

"T... is this it?" you asked hesitantly, your voice muffled against his skin. Trent's grip on you tightened slightly, his fingers resuming their slow, comforting caress of your back. You were terrified this could be the last time.

"No," he said softly but with certainty, the single word carrying more weight than you expected. You nestled deeper into him, your legs tangled together, your bodies fitting as though designed to. Trent's large hands roamed absentmindedly over your skin, soothing you without needing to speak. His face pressed into the nape of your neck, his breath warm and steady, matching the rhythm of your own. But as he laid there, cradling you in the fragile peace of the moment, his thoughts swirled. He wasn't entirely sure what came next, wasn't sure how to navigate the precarious balance of what you were to each other. He only knew he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go. Tonight, you were his, and he was yours, and the rest of the world didn't matter.

When you finally made it up to bed that night, you fell asleep crying in Trent’s arms, his body a safe harbor amidst the storm raging inside you. He held you tightly against his chest, his embrace firm but gentle, as though he could shield you from the world. He didn’t say much, his usual ease replaced by the gravity of the moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. It cracked slightly, betraying the turmoil he tried so hard to contain. “I love you, baby.” You nodded weakly against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. You didn’t know how to respond—didn’t have the strength to form words that could convey the pain and confusion twisting in your heart. The sting of Jack’s words the other day lingered, sharp and unforgiving, and the reality of everything between you and Trent felt so fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. All you could do was hold onto him, clinging to the warmth of his body, hoping that somehow the solidity of his presence could anchor you. Your breathing hitched as the tears continued to fall, unbidden and unrelenting. Trent didn’t rush you; he just held you tighter, his chin resting gently on the top of your head.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words raw and broken, barely audible. It was a confession pulled straight from the depths of your heart, stripped bare and vulnerable. Trent froze for a moment, the gravity of your words settling over him like a wave. Then, he tightened his arms around you, his hold almost possessive.

“I love you too,” he said, his voice soft but resolute, as if his love alone could keep you together. “Always.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering as if he could pour every ounce of his emotion into that single touch. You felt his hand move up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, the weight of everything between you almost too much to bear. But in that fragile space, there was also something else—an unspoken promise, a desperate hope that somehow, together, you could find a way through. As your sobs subsided, your body relaxed into his. Exhaustion overtook you, your eyes fluttering shut even as tears still clung to your lashes. Trent stayed awake, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his arms never leaving you. He didn’t know how to fix everything—not yet—but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t letting you go.

The next morning the weight of Jack’s anger and Trent’s love engulfed your every thought. You were trembling, your emotions unraveling in the quiet of the morning as you brushed your teeth in the en suite of Trent’s bedroom. When Trent came in, his eyes softened immediately, and without a word, he pulled you into his arms. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned and buried your face in his chest.

“I don't want to lose you, baby,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his skin. “You’re everything to me.” Trent tightened his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“And you're my everything. You're not loosing me. I’ll always take care of you, Y/N. Always. You’re too important to me to loose.” You pulled back slightly to look at him, your teary eyes meeting his.

“I’m scared, T,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this. Jack…he’s all I’ve got. I can’t lose him either.” Trent’s hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears.

“I’ve taken care of you for years, baby,” he said softly. “And I’ll keep doing that. We’ll sort it, no matter what. I just need you in my life. If we can’t be together it might break my heart but I’d rather have you in my life still…” You pouted at his words, your lip trembling again. You didn’t want to lose him but you needed Jack. He was all you had but you needed Trent like air. You hadn’t realized how connected you were to him until he was offering to take it all away to salvage your relationship with your brother. “If that’s what you prefer—what you want—I’ll do it,” Trent continued. “But I can’t lose you entirely. I’ll protect you forever. You know that.” Trent laid out an option for you. It was soul crushing though. The idea that you were so emphatically in love with each other but he was willing to just be friends felt harrowing. You couldn’t stomach it. “Hmm? Do you have any reason to not believe me?” He hummed with a smirk pushing for a response. You let out a small laugh through your tears, wiping at your eyes.

“You’ve always taken care of me, haven’t you?” you whispered bashfully. He hummed again in agreement.

“Throwing up drunk, almost drowning on the boat, sneaking you into places… Let’s see what else?” Trent smirked faintly, his voice teasing, his hands never leaving your face.

“Okay, stop.” You giggled sadly and a bit embarrassed at all the times Trent really had taken care of you your whole life.

“Nah, you see? I’ve got the track record. I’ll take care of this, of you, of us.” He smiled.

“Okay,” you sympathetically got your lips to curl, forcing a smile, your tears subsiding for a moment as his warmth grounded you. “Thank you for being my T,” you said, your voice tender. “For everything. Forever and always.” Trent’s eyes glistened as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before,” he cooed, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. The two of you stood there in the quiet, your hearts heavy but still connected. There was no resolution yet—only the promise of love between you. The fear of Jack’s reaction loomed over you, but in that moment, you chose to hold on to each other, even if you didn’t know what the future would bring.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 17 - Rarely Wrong xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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mamsieur · 1 year ago

Text

Used to it | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Being Pete Mitchell's daughter has never been easy. But maybe one mission could bring you back together ?

TW : angst and fluff, angst with a happy ending, mention of alcohol, panic attack, canonical character death, age gap (reader is 27 and Bradley is 35)

Length : 7156 words

AN : I'm sorry for making Pete seem like a bad father but that man is not stable enough to handle a child in my opinion.

posted on AO3 July 12, 2023

You were 7 when your mother left your father, Pete Mitchell.

You didn't have many early memories of him. There were only the arguments with your mother, his departures on missions that left you in tears, the missed birthdays and Christmases. It’s all you’ve ever known so you were used to it and being a child, you found it normal.

You were 7 when your mother decided to move out, leaving your whole life behind. You remember crying your eyes out in protest. As your mom tried desperately to get you out of the house, you clung with all your might to Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw was 15 and your regular babysitter, though your mother thought of him as a son, Carole and her were really close. They liked to remind you that when you were 4, you proudly announced that you were going to marry him. Bradley was almost always around, and Pete was his godfather, and they had a bond you envied. Despite the eight-year age difference, you remember being very close to your "Bradbrad" . He never pushed you away, was always ready to play Lego or other board games with you. He even took you to the park or with him when he went to the theater with his friends - when the movies were kids friendly -.

You were 7 , and your whole world shattered. No more Bradley, no more hanging to the naval base to have a glimpse of your dad and his incredible plane, no more aunty Carole and her sweet singing. You had hated your mom for years before understanding you left for the best. She was finally happy ; not completely, she missed her friends and sometimes your father, but you could feel that she was happier away from the hustle and bustle of the navy, of your dad. You were not used to the strange calmness of the city, but your grandparents made it easy to adapt. Soon enough, you got used to the loving cocoon your mother succeeded to create around you.

You were 16, at your mother's funeral, when you had to accept the fact that you had to go back to live with Pete. When the two of you finally found each other in the crowd, he didn't say much, just gave you a few brief updates. You asked him about Bradley, a bit sad to not have seen him here, and he didn't have much to say. Only that the two of them were no longer as close as they had been.

The silence between you was uncomfortable.

Of course, Pete had kept in touch over the years, calling on your birthdays, sending a little something. You spent some Christmas with him when he wasn't working and a few days during the summer break ; but Pete Mitchell loved his work too much to focus on you. As long as you lived with your mother, Pete's absence from your life wasn't something you suffered from, at least not really.

You were used to it. Used to the absence, used to the missed calls, used to the Christmases with the attention of other aviators and their families but the ignorance of your dad, used to the unanswered phone calls. Used to his silence.

But now your mum was dead... and you were dreading having to join your father in California.

You were 16 and you didn't want to live with him, you already knew what would happen ; he'd go flying, on a mission or for his own pleasure, leaving you alone at home - if you could call it home. The hangar where he lived now was something you'd always hated . It had no place for anything or anyone other than his passion for the sky, for planes and speed. You didn't want to leave your new life, even though you loved California. Your school, your friends, your family, your routine. But you didn't really have much of a choice. You were 16. He was now your legal guardian and you didn't want to drag your grandparents into a custody battle. Even though part of you told yourself that your dad would probably agree to let you stay with them, you didn't want to take that chance. And you hoped he'd be more present, that you'd finally have the father you'd dreamed of, that your other friends had. If other military parents could be there for their children, why couldn't Pete?

Perhaps because Pete loved flying more than anything else in the world. The sky was his one true love.

Even though you knew it, you held out the faintest hope that he would finally take his responsibilities as a father. Unfortunately, Pete was still Pete. He wasn't cut out to be a father. A fun uncle, maybe. A parent, no. The fact that Bradley no longer spoke to him proved that.

You were 18 when you packed your bags and headed off to the naval school in Maryland. You wanted to be a pilot too. And you wanted to get away from that bloody hangar, so empty, so alone.

Pete wasn't there when you left. Not even a message or a note. Nothing at all.

You weren't even surprised.

It was Tom Kazansky - Uncle Tom - who had taken you to the airport. He had been more present in your life than your own father, even though you rarely saw him. You knew your relationship with Pete was a sensitive subject, and you knew when Tom gave him a hard time. Pete was suddenly more present - too present . He'd pop into your life for a few days, trying to be the cool or bossy dad, but it always ended in a fight.

You hated it when he did that. You hated the way he would act like your friend, or like a strict parent, talking about curfew and how no boys were allowed in his 'home'. You hated the way he would try to be the father that he had never been in your whole life. You hated the way he tried to convince you that he was trying to change, that he'd be there for you.

But you couldn't blame Uncle Tom for trying to shake your father. He had children too, but despite his love of the air, he had been a present parent to them.

But some days were not as bad as others. Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, Pete would take you flying. And even though it was hard to admit, you were a bit of a flier yourself. The feeling of freedom, of being alone in a comforting way. It was mesmerizing.

So, without him knowing, you decided to join the navy after graduation. You took your mother's name, Evans , so that you would not attract attention. Only Tom knew, so your dad wouldn't and couldn't pull your papers like he did with Bradley.

You found out that he had done this when you saw Bradley one day in the summer before you made your choice. At first you did not recognize him. He was 26 now. He was taller, more muscular and had a 80s mustache that suited him well - puberty had treated him really good. He was the spitting image of his father, whom you'd only seen in photographs and heard about when Tom and Pete reminisced over drinks about the past.

But Bradley had the same look in his eyes as his mother, Carole.

As a child, you adored Carole. She was always there to comfort you when your parents were at odds, picking you up from kindergarten when your father was on a mission and your mother was at work… She was kind of a second mom. You went to her funeral with your mother eight years ago, you never cried so much.

The summer of your reunion with Bradley had been the summer of his return from the Naval Academy, which he had graduated from with honors. He was a very good pilot and would soon be going on a mission. The day before he left, you snuck out of the hangar to meet him at a nearby bar. He had celebrated his departure with you and a handful of friends, promising to keep in touch as often as possible. As he left, you realized how much you'd missed your Bradbrad.

You were 18, and you remembered how quiet the ride to the airport had been. Part of you wanted to stay. You loved California. It was close to the ocean, the people were friendly, and at the Navy base everyone knew you.

You'd even earned a nickname, the call sign you hoped to use soon : Tempest . It was a bittersweet memory of a stormy night when Pete "forgot" to pick you up from baseball practice. You had landed on the base, mad as hell, soaked to the bone. You'd yelled at your father as hard as the storm had raged. It had been a huge fight. And of course, everyone had heard. Surprisingly, many had defended you rather than your father. You were relieved then. And to cheer you up while your dad was embarrassed, Tom took you to your favorite fast food and laughed with you about the scene. "You walked in there like a damn storm, a tempest ! Heck, that should be your call sign when you join the ranks !" You smiled as you remembered his raspy laugh and all the stories he told you about his days at Topgun .

It was through those stories that you learned a little bit more about your father, The Maverick . His accomplishments, his reckless attitude in the air, his urge to always define what’s possible and pushing the limits. Your desire, your need , to join the Navy to become a pilot only grew, digging a hole of longing for the sky deep inside you. You wanted your father to see you, to acknowledge you. You wanted to be more like him.

You were 27 years old when you were called to the NAS North Island for a "top secret" mission that required "the best of the best". To your surprise, you were one of the youngest and one of the only women. But you'd missed California too much to worry about such details. Like many pilots, you had joined the Hard Deck for a drink the day before training began. You soon met Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Two strong personalities. Then came Javy “Coyote” Machado and Robert "Bob" Floyd. He was discreet, a bit shy. And before you could introduce yourself to the others, someone entered the bar and caught Jake's eye.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe."

"Hangman. You look... good." His voice was behind you and you didn't dare turn around to see him.

"Well, I am good. I'm very good Rooster ."

You let the two men talk, then Bradley greeted Natasha and the others. At last, his gaze landed on you. You couldn't help but smile stupidly. He looked so surprised and happy. "Y/N Tempest Evans?!"

"Hey Bradbrad ..." you smiled and happily accepted his embrace. He squeezed you against him and asked you all about your journey, which you happily did, while in the distance the bell rang, indicating that a customer couldn't pay his bill and had to be kicked out. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you recognized your father, but Jake and Javy had already grabbed him by the arms and dragged him outside. You didn’t have the time to really think about it, Bradley taking you by the hand to sing with him at the piano. You laughed and followed him with the others in his Great balls of fire ’s reprise. It had been a great night.

The next day, at the first meeting, you thought your heart stopped when you saw that your instructor was actually Pete... and from the look on his face, he wasn't happy to see you there. Before the meeting was over, you heard his voice call your name ; it had a barely disguised note of anger. "Lieutenant Evans. You’ll stay after training, we'll have a word."

Bradley looked at you, concerned. He knew that you had never told Pete about the Navy, but he didn't know that even after nine years, your father was still unaware of your career. The others were confused and you could feel questioning gazes on you. Great way to begin this thing , you thought.

You were 27 and a very good pilot. An excellent one. One of the best. That's why you were here after all, wasn’t it ? You walked in your father’s footsteps, perhaps as talented as him at that age. But you were also as reckless as him, living up to your callsign. A tempest was never soft or delicate, neither were you. You had risked your life so many times in your five years of service. Tom often told you that you were just like your father and that it scared him. You didn’t think, you just did , you wanted to go faster, higher and further. Acting like the storm that you were, leaving your enemies confused by what had just happened. The adrenaline, the speed, the immensity of the sky, the feeling of freedom... you finally understood why Pete loved being in his plane so much. You felt a little closer to him in those moments.

And yet, in nine years of absence, he had never once contacted you. You had disappeared one day and he hadn't even looked for you. Your uncle had promised not to say anything about your career, but Pete hadn't even been interested in why or where you were going.

Seeing him angry made you furious . How could he have the nerve to be mad at you?

After the training and the 200 pushups you had to do because - of course - you didn't beat your old man, you stayed on deck and waited for the others to leave. Bradley gave you a little squeeze on the shoulder, as if to give you strength, and reluctantly left. You heard Hondo telling Pete to calm himself before saying things he might regret out of anger.

Once again, the silence between you and your father was heavy.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, waiting for him to finally speak. You could see that he was trying to stay calm. But you already felt like exploding . You could feel the reproaches, the so-called concern. You could feel that he wanted to push you away .

"Y/N... how did you... you went to the Academy behind my back?!"

"Iceman," you replied simply, your eyes and voice cold. "And you never asked where I was either."

"You-?! I should have known, you lied to me."

“It’s not lying if you’re not asked.” you mutter, “You taught me that.”

“Now’s not the time to play that game Y/N,” he snapped, "you can't be here."

"With all due respect, Captain, that's not your call."

You really tried to remain calm, knowing that the others must have been listening nearby - especially Jake. You didn't want to draw any more attention, but you felt your blood boiling under your skin.

"I will talk to Vice Admiral Simpson about this. I don't suppose anyone's made the connection between us. But now there's clearly a conflict of interest-"

"You have no right to take this mission away from me. It's not fair," you gasped, eyes wide.

"I am your father ! I can and will do it."

"What ?! No ! No, you can't ! 9 years of nothing but silence and now you're acting like a worried father ?!" you snapped, moving towards him and pointing an accusing finger. A nervous laugh escaped you and you sighed, pursing your lips. "Why do you always have to act like this ? You've never acted like a father to me, except to get in my way !"

"Get in your way ? No ! I care about you-"

"Really ?!" you cut him off, raising your voice, "Then where have you been for 9 years ?! What did Tom have to say to you that you weren't even lookin' for me ? Where was all this care when I left and you were not here ? Where were you huh ?! Where was all that concern ?!"

Pete's eyes widened and he searched for words. He should have known that he could not argue with your point so he just huffed then scolded. "I'm your captain, Lieutenant Evans ! Keep your voice down !"

"Oh, now it's not my father talking ?!" you couldn't hold back a nervous, fake laugh. "You see how you are ?! Always twisting things your way ?! Why are you avoiding that conversation ? Why are you running away again ?!" you’re almost screaming, inches close to him, eyes locked in his.

"Lieutenant Evans !" he growled. You grumbled and let out a heavy sight, calming yourself. You stepped back and clenched your fists along your body.

"Will that be all, Captain Mitchell ?"

You clenched your fists even harder, your knuckles turning white. You wanted to physically shake him to finally have answers. But you couldn’t, at least not here, not now.

"Y/N..." he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Will that be all, Captain ?" you repeated, your voice slightly trembling. Tears of rage threatened to fall. You held them back, too proud to cry in front of him. Pete looked at you and sighed quietly.

"You're dismissed Lieutenant Evans..."

You left the deck with a quick stride. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mixture of anger, frustration and sadness. Of course, the rest of the squadron was there, already clean and changed. Seeing the anger in your eyes, no one said a word, not even Hangman. He just stared at you, confused, as you slammed the door of the changing room.

Later that evening, as the squadron relaxed at the bar, Jake couldn't help but bring up the earlier scene.

"So our dear Tempest's dad is the famous Maverick?"

" He's not my father ," you muttered, finishing another beer. "My genitor maybe. But he's not my father."

"Why Evans if Mitchell's your old man?" Jake insisted.

You could hear Bradley and Natasha telling him to drop it, but he kept coming back. You could feel your anger rising again. You downed another beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the table.

"Tell me, Bagman , weren’t you taught to keep your mouth shut about things that don't concern you? I'm sure your mama taught you some manners, didn't she? Now shut up before I put my fist through your face," you growled, half drunk, half angry. Jake scoffed and held his hands up in defense while Bob stopped you from approaching him. Seeing your father enter the bar only made you feel worse. And it took all your patience not to slit Jake's throat on the spot as he continued his overly curious and unpleasant comments with his snide attitude.

Bradley went with you to get some fresh air as he wasn't too keen on seeing Pete either. When you arrived at the beach, a wave of sadness washed over you. You knew that your father would do everything in his power to get you out of this mission, but what was worse was that he didn't even try to talk to you, to reconnect. Your shoulders shook and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Only a sobbing hiccup betrayed you and Bradley rushed to take you in his arms. You felt the strength leave your legs and the two of you ended up sitting in the sand, crying your eyes out and clinging to Bradley. "I've got you... Let it all out..." he murmured between two kisses on the top of your head. His big hands gently stroked your back, letting go of all your pain. "It's okay, baby girl... it's okay..."

Bradley and you practically lived together now. You’ve inherited your mom’s old house by the ocean and it’s confier than being on base. So those kinds of pet names were almost common now. But this time you didn’t blush at it, your emotions a mess.

You cried against him for a long time, as you hadn't done for many years. Rooster held you until you calmed down. "It's not fair..." you whispered, sniffling. "He's going to take me off the mission..."

"He won't be able to... Ice recommended you... there's nothing he can do about it..."

You shrugged, not really sure if Tom could help you. He was very ill and you didn't want to tire him out with your disagreements with your father.

“He’s just an old dickhead, don’t worry…” Bradley tried to cheer you up but you’re too distraught to play along. After a little less than an hour later, you find the force to get up and you head home with him. You fall asleep in the car and wake up the next morning in your bed.

There wasn't much time left before the mission. Training sessions were coming up and so were your fights with Pete. Cyclone hadn't pulled you out of the mission, but you weren't sure if it was to spite your father or because he felt you were capable of succeeding, just like your comrades.

Days passed at an alarming pace. The team slowly bonded through group exercises and moments of relaxation, especially with the game your father had invented: dogfight football.

You couldn't lie, it felt good to have such moments. But your father still didn't talk to you and you were still angry. You remained professional, but you couldn't stand his fatherly attitude towards you.

All your hopes of renewing real ties disappeared when you learned of Tom's death. You had seen him the day before and he had made you promise to try to take care of Pete. His funeral was one of the hardest moments of your life.

And because bad news never comes alone, the mission was moved up by a week. Pete was temporarily relieved of his duties, as Admiral Simpson still believed his plan of attack was doomed to failure. Of course, your father, in his legendary arrogance and cockiness, proved him wrong with an unauthorized flight. Hope rose in the team but it was still a very risky plan.

Cyclone decided to make Pete team leader, and not surprisingly, he didn't choose you as his wingman. Part of you was angry because you felt you could do it, and another part of you was mortified when he announced that his choice would be Bradley. This mission was suicide, and you couldn't afford to lose them both. You couldn't afford to lose anyone in the squadron, but these two, it was just too much.

You didn't catch up with Pete as much as you wanted to, there were still so many questions left unanswered, so much time to make up for… You hadn't been able to make things right with your dad, you hadn't been able to tell him that you had this passion for aviation because of him. You hadn't been able to tell him that you regretted not telling him about the academy, that you regretted the 9 years of distance between you...

And you didn't spend enough time with Bradley.

Sure, you were always glued to each other in your free time, taking walks on the beach, talking and singing together at the Hard Deck piano, having movie nights... but you didn't want it to stop. Not after you'd half confessed how you felt about him after a few too many drinks, telling him that your 4-year-old declaration still stood. He laughed and told you that he hadn't forgotten either.

On the day of the mission, you barely managed to find your way to your father. "Captain?" your voice was louder than you had expected.

"Lieutenant Evans?"

"I... Before you go, I'd like to talk-"

"We'll talk when I get back."

"... Promise me you'll come back."

For a moment, you were that five-year-old girl again, watching her father leave. Pete must have seen it in your eyes and climbed down from the cockpit to take you in his arms. "I promise I'll come back in one piece, kiddo..." You hugged him tightly and nodded in agreement. After a few seconds, you let go and let him settle down. You ran to Bradley and made him promise you the same. He smiled confidently, even though you knew he was stressed. "Don't worry, we've got a Star Wars marathon to watch," he smiled before gently and discreetly kissing your forehead. You blushed and nodded, a worried little smile on your face.

Reluctantly, you left the track and joined Jake. You were glued to your radios, following the progress of the mission. Everything was going well until two enemy fighters spotted them.

You stopped breathing.

First they had Bradley in sight and locked on.

The enemy fired.

But your father took the brunt of the missiles and saved Rooster.

Your brain didn't know how to process all this information and shut down when you heard Bradley's decision to go after Pete before getting shot down too.

You don't remember much else. All you knew is that Jake had to leave in a hurry to find and rescue them. When they landed with that really out beat up F-14, you rushed out on deck to greet them, swallowing all your worry and anger at their unconscious behavior for the moment.

Once ashore, the entire crew decided to celebrate their success at Penny's Bar, dragging Pete with them. You stayed close to Bradley, as if afraid that it was all a dream and that he wasn't really there. He wouldn't let go of you either, his arm tight around you. You felt like a schoolgirl, it was stupidly comfortable. You looked at Pete, who was happily chatting with Penny and other members of the team. You didn't want to spoil the evening with a discussion that was out of your control…

Around one o'clock you went out for some fresh air, leaving Bradley to play with those who hadn't returned home yet ; Reuben, Natasha, Mickey and Javy.

As a cold shiver ran through you, you felt a heavy jacket on your shoulders. You immediately recognized the peculiar smell ; old whiskey mixed with motor oil and a hint of cologne.

" Dad ? "

"I thought you wanted to talk ?" he asked quietly, moving toward the beach. You nodded and took his pinky with yours like a child, searching for your words.

"I'm sorry..." you breathed, holding back your tears. "For going to the Academy behind your back and not telling you… not talking to you for almost ten years... I know that giving news is supposed to go both ways and all, but... but you weren't even there when I left... and I guess... I guess I resented you as much as I wanted you to be there, you know ?" you sniffed before continuing your monologue. "I just wanted you to see me . ‘Cause… it’s because of you I wanted to go down this road, you gave me this love for flight, for speed, for the sky. I... I just wanted you to be happy that we finally had something in common, but... but you had already pulled Bradley's papers, so I didn't think and I just did what seemed most logical and easiest. Take Mom's name, ask Ice not to tell you. I know it was stupid… but I also know it would have hurt too much if you had stopped me. And... And then no news for nine years... It hurt even more. The Academy and my first years of service weren't what I thought they would be... it was rough and sometimes I just… I just wanted to call you to come and pick me from there… but… but I wouldn't change that for the world. Because I’m still a Mitchell and Mitchells never quit right ?” You took a few seconds, your gaze meeting his, to see if he wanted to intervene but he didn’t. He just looked at you, taking all the information you gave him. You let out a shaky breath, playing with the sleeves of his jacket nervously. “And I know you must and may resent me for the rest of my life, but… but I just wanted you to be proud of me and... and for us to finally be a family." You bit your lip, trying to calm the flow of emotions that came through.

The sky began to rumble and your father remained silent after your speech. A few tears rolled down your cheeks as he couldn't find the words.

"Please, Dad, say something..." you sighed, your voice breaking.

The rain began to fall slowly and Pete's silence was too much for your heart to take. He couldn't even look at you anymore. You thought you could take it ; you were used to his silenced treatment, used to the fact that he couldn’t express his feelings. But right now, you needed him to speak, to ease your worries, to confront you.

"Dad... please... I'm begging you... talk to me…" you repeated desperately.

You broke down again and cried like a little girl in front of your mute father. You hated that he couldn't open up to you and you hated that he saw you so frail, so fragile. Your sobs mingled with the rain, which grew heavier, the wind and waves making the silence deafening. You bit your lip and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, in vain.

"I know I'm not... I know you didn't plan… you didn’t want to have me with mom-"

"No, it's true... I never planned to be a father... The very idea of having children terrified me and still does," Pete interrupted you, "but... you're one of the most beautiful things, if not the most, that has ever happened to me. And I'm petrified of anything happening to you, I'm helpless on so many levels... and I... I didn't know how to be there when you needed me... I know I must have let you down a lot..." He sighed, catching his breath and holding back his own tears. "I thought... it would be best for both of us to let you have your freedom... but the weeks, months and years went by and I didn't have the guts to try to contact you. I was too ashamed... but Y/N, I never stopped loving you... you're my daughter... and even if you have my damn temper and your mom’s stubbornness," you couldn't hold back a little laugh and a slight smile despite your tears, which your father tenderly chased away with his thumb, "you'll always be my little girl, too eager to get on our little plane for a ride, passionate and fierce… I don’t resent you… I think I would have done it your way if my old man put me in this situation…" He allowed himself to cry as well as the two of you finally hugged each other, relieved of an enormous weight.

"I love you too, Dad... sorry for everything..." you mumbled against his shoulder.

"No, no… I’m sorry… It's my turn to apologize, sweetheart..."

The two of you lay embracing in the rain for a while, making up for years of distance in a few minutes. You were the first to let go. You once again took his hand like a child.

"We better get back before Hangman starts gossiping..."

"Or before Bradley starts worrying," Pete teased. You blushed and looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Like I haven't noticed the way you two look at each other. I'm not that blind kid!" He laughed “Ah… your mom and Carole would have been thrilled !”

You returned to the bar, soaking wet, chatting about anything and everything. Seeing you, Bradley's expression changed from worried to relieved, then back to worried as he noticed you were shivering a little from the cold. He politely left his conversation with Mickey to join you.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go home and change?"

"That would be a good idea..." you smiled at him. You had to admit you were exhausted from this rollercoaster of emotions. You said goodbye to the others from a distance, then to your father in a final hug, and followed Bradley back to his old blue Bronco. The two of you made your way to your small house.

Bradley was a good roommate. You each had your own room, but you often fell asleep together in front of the TV or on one of your beds after long late-night discussions. You liked the routine you created. And you hoped with all your might that nothing would change. But your feelings for him were becoming more and more obvious in your mind and heart. You wondered how much longer you could hide it.

Seeing you so silent, Bradley placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Are you all right, lil’ Tempest?"

His eyes never left the road as his thumb traced small circles on your jeans. A shiver ran through your entire body and you wished this contact would never end.

"Everything's fine Roo... don't worry..."

"Okay..."

He squeezed your knee again and left his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his palm made you shiver and you placed your hand on top of his shyly. Once again, you felt like a teenager. It was stupid.

The ride home was rather quiet, in a comforting way, Bradley driving carefully in the pouring rain and humming the song that passed on the radio. When he parked, you stayed in the car for a moment. You sensed that he had something he wanted to say to you, and he sensed the same thing on your side. After a few minutes of silence and shy glances, he smiled at you, got out of the car, and you followed. He ran to unlock the door and waited for you under the porch.

You wanted to run as well, but your legs felt heavy. That's when your anxiety decided to take over. The stress and worry of the past few days were finally catching up to you. As you saw Bradley step out into the rain with a worried expression, the conversation on the radio played in your head. Your father's F-18 had exploded, and Bradley was on his way to pick him up. And now it was his turn to go down. A huge pressure on your chest stopped you from breathing and new tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't move, pinned to the pavement. Silent sobs shook you as your vision blurred. You couldn't see or hear Bradley any more. You felt so alone, so cold. Your panic attack froze you under the heavy rain and you couldn't get out of it. You couldn't hear anything except the intense ringing in your ear. You wanted to throw up. The world spun around you as your mind screamed what the communications officer had said earlier, "Maverick's down ! Rooster's down !"

They were dead.

For the long forty minutes or so that followed, they were dead . And you were stuck in that loop. One minute everything was fine, the mission was a complete success. The next, the last two most important people in your life were dead. The ground began to feel strangely unstable as you fought harder to breathe. Eventually your legs gave out and you felt yourself fall, but you didn't hit the ground. You felt two arms around you, holding you securely but not too tightly, then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. The buzzing in your ears slowly faded away and you didn't feel the rain on your skin anymore. You gasped for air when you finally heard Breadley call your name, concern in his voice. As you raised your eyes to look at him, a sudden relief washed over you and you couldn't help but sob again.

He was home. You were home. With him.

"What's going on, Y/N? Hey... Breathe... breathe and talk to me..." he said quietly.

"I thought... I thought you and Dad... you... you were dead..." you managed to say between sobbing hiccups. You clung to his shirt, afraid he would fade away. He smiled a little and kissed the top of your head as he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands. Then he took your hands and laid them flat on his heart. You could feel it beating at a regular pace.

"I'm here. I’m okay. You're okay. I'm very much alive, Mav is too, and you're stuck with me, with us, little Tempest..."

"Yeah ? Promise ?" you sniffed, your lower lip still trembling.

"Yeah... Promise." he smiled at you again then hugged you tightly.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the bristles of his mustache tickling you a little. One of your hands reached up to his neck, your fingers brushing his little hair. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, absorbing each other's presence. You felt so relaxed in his arms, as if you belonged there. Your heart fluttered as you heard him hum one of your favorite songs and then felt him beginning to slow dance with you, taking you peacefully to the bathroom. You were too exhausted and shaken from your panic attack to even ask him what he was doing. You just obliged and listened to him, hypnotized. He declared that you needed a long relaxing bath and in the meantime he would order pizza. He helped you take off your shoes and socks, then your hoodie. He kissed your forehead and let you finish undressing, leaving the bathroom to give you some privacy.

You couldn’t stay too long in the bath, your mind being too loud. You knew you would break down again if you weren’t close to him . Bradley made you feel safe, secure, grounded. That was what you needed to relax. You were so used to being alone before, used to the silence, the empty rooms. But since he decided to kind of move in with you, you couldn’t bear the loneliness. The house was so warm now, so welcoming and comfy.

As you crossed his room after you’ve washed, you noticed that old hoodie you bought him one Christmas when you were in naval school. It’s a silly one, the hood designed to look like a rooster. An amused sigh escaped you and you took it to wear. It was still as soft and comfy as the day you bought it.

“Stealing my clothes I see ?” he chuckled when you joined him in the kitchen.

“Stealing my beers I see ?” you teased him back, pointing at the bottle in his hand, “I thought cranberry beers were for chicks ?”

“Mama Carole didn’t raise me to be picky” He scoffed in défense, with a smirk.

“Oh I know she didn’t. And my mama didn’t raise me to steal, I’m just borrowing that hoodie.” you smiled, putting the hood on. “Look, we’re twins now, Rooster !”

The both of you laughed at that stupid joke. He then smiled at you and put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Feeling better sweets ?”

“Yeah… sorry about that I… I think these past days were a bit too much for my brain…”

“Don’t be sorry… it’s normal to break sometimes… everyone does.”

You hummed and nodded, but before you could talk, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizzas ! Get yourself comfortable on the couch and choose a movie Y/N, I’ll be right back !” He kissed your cheek, close to your lips - too close - and ran to the door. You stood there for a moment, cheeks and heart warming up, before doing what he asked you. Once again, you felt like a schoolgirl at her first sleepover with her crush. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your face turning a bit red.

You should tell him. But you risked losing that friendship you had. And at the same time, you wanted more than that. You wanted to feel his arms around you, his lips - oh those lips - on you, to wake up next to him each and every morning in your bed… You fantasized about a life with him for a minute, not noticing him getting back with the food. You jumped slightly when he waved his hand in front of your eyes to snap you out of your reverie. Your gaze locked with his as he asked if everything was all right.

"Yes, yes... I was just lost in thought..." you smiled shyly, your cheeks flushed, letting him settle in beside you. He took the plaid to cover both of you, then put his arm around your shoulders.

"And what were you thinking about? Or who?" He teased.

"About us, actually..."

"Us?" He said, a little surprised.

Your cheeks were crimson. You'd said too much already. You couldn't run anymore. You just nodded, not daring to meet his gaze. You felt him come closer and turn a little towards you after a few seconds of silence.

"Me too, I have to admit..."

"Really?" you almost whispered, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah... to tell you the truth, I like it here, but... I don't want to be just another roommate anymore. We're pretty similar in a lot of things, Phoenix even says we look like an old married couple that's always jammed together." You chuckled a little but couldn't help but agree. Bradley smiled a little before continuing, a little nervously. "And... the crash, almost getting killed... It made me realize a lot of things... like the fact that I didn't want to lose you. And that... maybe... the fact that I felt so comfortable with you meant... meant more than friendship..."

Your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to confess what you were thinking? You bit the inside of your cheek to prove to yourself that you weren't dreaming, and before he could continue, you pulled him by his collar and crushed your lips against his. The kiss was desperate, as if you needed it to keep on living. Bradley didn't waste a second in responding, one of his hands sliding up your cheek and the other down your back to press you against him. You would have liked that moment to last forever, but the lack of air forced you to pull away a little. He pressed his forehead against yours and let out a small laugh. "I guess it's mutual, then?"

"You're a little genius aren’t you ?" You couldn't help but tease him before kissing him again.

You felt so good against him, kiss after kiss. You felt complete, soothed.

And you could easily get used to it .

#top gun maverick #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #dad pete mitchell #reader is pete daughter #jake seresin #bob floyd #penny benjamin #tom iceman kazansky #carole bradshaw #angst with a happy ending #pov second person

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