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fromthedeskoftheraven · 4 years

Text

Always kiss me goodnight

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Content: Pining, kissing, mention of food, oh no there’s only one bed, helmetless Din (but it’s dark), baby Yoda is an adorable tiny terror

Word count: ~2200

Note: I swear I was only going to write one Pedro character fic. Has this kind of thing been done a million times? Yes. Am I doing it once more? Also yes. It’s self-indulgent hours and this little love letter to our favorite space dad and his green baby has been nagging at my mind since I first watched the show.

Tagging the people who asked (If anyone wants to be tagged or un-tagged in any future fics since it seems I’m well and truly back on my bs just say the word): @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @beccaplaying

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Fatigue has caught up with the little green child now that his belly is full, and crankiness along with it. The Mandalorian has been known to lovingly call his adopted son a womp rat, but when the baby gets overtired, a rancor is more like it.

This time, you can hardly blame him. The three of you have spent the better part of the day traveling, finally landing on this backwater planet late in the evening. With some searching and a small fortune in credits, Din managed to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to stay, leaving you and the child to eat and settle in while he went to scout the bounty’s location for the next day’s work.

As the child’s fussing gains momentum, you hustle to the small sink in the corner of the room.

“We’ll wash your face and go straight to bed,” you promise him, letting the water warm before wetting a cloth and wringing it out thoroughly.

In the mirror, your own face looks as exhausted as he obviously feels. The bed in question is little more than a pallet with a mattress and some blankets, but it might as well be a royal welcome at this stage of the game.

Despite your gentleness, the baby erupts in an indignant whine as you wipe the cloth over his face and ears. “I know, little love,” you soothe while he struggles in protest. “Almost done.”

He quiets when you scoop him up into your arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head. You hum bits of a song from your childhood, rocking him from side to side, and his little face crumples with a yawn. His tiny fingers curl into the fabric of your tunic and his head goes heavy on your shoulder, but still he fidgets, making pathetic little sounds in the direction of the door.

“I know,” you murmur again, still swaying on the spot. “He’ll be back soon.”

You’ve grown to love the child and you know he’s fond of you, but as far as he’s concerned Din is the one who hangs the stars in the sky. He’s always a little agitated when his father is out of sight, and truth be told, so are you.

“I know what we can do,” you say. “Let’s make a plate for your buir for when he comes back. Don’t you think that’ll be nice for him?”

Neither you nor Din are sure how much the child actually understands, but you don’t let it stop you talking to him. If nothing else it makes you feel a little less alone in the long hours when Din is hunting his quarries.

His drooping ears twitch upward with this suggestion. He watches with interest as you lay a plate with some of the fresh fruit, bread, and stewed meat Din bought from the innkeeper for your supper.

“There we go. Now then, bedtime for little ones.”

You turn to survey the sleeping area with a stab of nerves. The minuscule size of the room isn’t a challenge -- the Razor Crest has made you an expert in living in small spaces -- but the lone bed is a wrinkle you hadn’t expected.

Din, ever pragmatic, had been quick to point out that it was plenty big enough for the three of you, and it was only one night. He was right, of course.

Still, you’d never been so grateful for dim lighting, sure that your secret longing for the Mandalorian was written plainly on your flustered face.

You couldn’t have said exactly when your feelings for Din Djarin had strayed into dangerous territory. Somewhere in the months of traveling with him, caring for his child, helping maintain his ship, reminding him to eat, and tending the worst of his wounds your initial wariness turned to admiration, admiration to fondness, and fondness to something alarmingly like love.

It’s a fool’s errand.

For all his kindness to you Din is an island of a man, set apart from the world in his shell of beskar and the even more unyielding armor of his creed. Even if his heart is big enough to encompass the child, you don’t dare to hope there’s room for you too.

And now this bed -- this one kriffing bed -- sits there mocking you and all your silly fantasies of you and Din and the child being a real family, bound together by love instead of convenience.

You turn off the light overhead, leaving only the small, sickly lamp at the table to light Din’s way to his supper.

The mattress is clean and the blankets are a bit threadbare but soft, and the baby only has the energy to grumble a little when you lay him down on the side closest to the wall and tuck the thickest of them around him. Yawning widely, he stretches out a hand toward you, fingers grabbing at the air.

The gesture warms your weary heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lie down beside him and face away from the table, mindful that Din will need privacy to eat. The little body shuffles closer to you, curling into your shoulder, and a surge of fierce affection pricks your eyes with tears. You wrap your arm around the baby to hold him close as the full brunt of the long day overtakes you.

“Good night, little love,” you say around a yawn, just as your eyes fall closed.

***

You wake with a start. The windowless room is pitch black, and in the absence of any landmarks your brain races to orient itself.

At your back, the child’s soft, snuffling breaths. A well-worn blanket draped over you and a slightly lumpy mattress beneath.

The inn, you remember in a flash.

At your front...something warm and broad and solid. You’ve nestled into it in your sleep, one arm thrown over it, your hand grasping soft fabric. A familiar, comforting scent surrounds you, a scent you cherish from laundry days and the cramped quarters of a small ship.

Oh, Maker.

You clearly slept through Din coming back and getting into bed, and now you’re wrapped around him like a second set of clothes. The rush of blood into your cheeks flames so hot you worry he must feel it through the base layers he’s wearing to sleep.

Shrinking into yourself, you begin to pull away, as stealthily as you can. If you can just get back to your own side of the bed and brazen it out in the morning, maybe he’ll never be the wiser.

Slowly, so slowly, you release the handful of his shirt you’re holding and move your arm from where it’s resting across his chest...

In the darkness, a hand encircles your wrist.

Oh, Maker.

You’ve watched Din wrestle enough uncooperative bounties into the carbonite chamber to know you’re not getting away from him if he doesn’t want you to. But his grip on your wrist is light, gentle. His thumb rests on the place where your pulse is fluttering like a trapped bird, whether from embarrassment or his closeness you’re not entirely sure.

“Din.” It comes out barely a whisper, sabotaged by the sudden dryness of your mouth. You swallow hard and try again. “Din, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s all right.”

His voice is a revelation. Free of the modulator’s rasp, it’s warmer, richer, somehow softer and more resonant at the same time. You’ve never even been in the same room with him when he has his helmet off, and the realization that he’s right there, a breath away, is dizzying.

Silence stretches before he speaks again, more quietly. “It’s...nice.”

Your brain fails you entirely. “Oh.”

You search desperately for something more intelligent to say, but his thumb is drawing feather-light circles over the soft skin of your wrist and your pulse is thundering in your ears. Those touches, so delicate from a man so strong, blur your thoughts like liquor and drag a confession from your lips before you can bite it back. “I’ve always wanted to hold you.”

You wait, blessing the darkness that swallows your shame, and hope he’s not going to tell you to pack your things and find a job in this bleak little skug hole for when he leaves you behind.

Instead, you feel the mattress shift and know he’s turned toward you.

The sudden fear of breaking Din’s creed is overwhelming, even in the dark. Instinct has you squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that white specks float behind your eyelids.

“I can’t see you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“I know.”

His thumb moves from your wrist across your palm, uncurling your fingers to map each one in turn, trailing up to the tips and back down again. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone’s bare skin.

He sighs, which is nothing new, but this one doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds almost...content. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs. “Beautiful girl. I thought so the first time I saw you.”

You’re overcome with a wild, childish urge to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

His praise gives you a rush of courage to ask for something you’ve only dreamed of. “Din...can I touch you? Is it allowed?”

His only answer is to cradle your hand in his, bringing it to rest on his cheek.

Stubble prickles your palm as your fingers slowly trace his scruffy jawline and the thick column of his neck, savoring the feel of him. His hair is soft, long enough to curl at its nape, and when you comb your fingers through the tousled strands he makes a low, strangled sound in the back of his throat. It reverberates through your body like a bell, making your head swim with the thrill of affecting him.

You only just resist the urge to suck a mark into the spot where his pulse races under his warm skin.

Your greedy hands move on to discover a strong brow and the curved bridge of a prominent nose. A mustache frames lips that are more plush than you imagined, a note of sensuality in an angular, warrior’s face.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are?” you ask, fingertips traveling over his cheekbone.

“Brown.”

Brown. You see them in your mind’s eye, soft and dark, expressing all the things he doesn’t say out loud. Stroking his lower lip, you repeat his own word back to him: “Mesh’la.”

Din’s mouth twitches under your fingers. “You can’t see me.”

He has no idea. His body warming yours and the sweetness of his voice calling you beautiful is everything you’ve ever wanted and thought yourself unworthy of having, and he thinks you’re only talking about his face.

You cup his cheek, smile at him, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t need to, Din. I just know it. I always have.”

“You’re so good to me.” His hand catches yours in his large one, his voice rough with some nameless emotion. “To me, and the baby. All the time.”

“You deserve everything good,” you whisper past the lump in your throat.

He’s caressing your hand again, holding it in place to press his lips to the pad of your thumb. “I want to kiss you, cyare.”

Your exhale is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please.”

His hand moves to cradle your head as he closes the distance between you. If you were expecting him to pounce, you’re completely unprepared for him to linger, breath hovering over your lips for a long, agonizing moment as he brushes his nose over yours.

You’re almost startled by the first touch of his lips, a little chapped but warm and lush. His mustache is softer than you thought it would be, and so are his kisses, a series of slow, gentle presses of his mouth. Like he wants to do with his lips what you’ve done with your hands, sketching and learning.

It’s only when you slide your hand into his hair again that something inside him breaks. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you to the refuge of his broad chest as he slants his mouth over yours, claiming you in earnest. He’s possessive and tender in equal measure and the tease of his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping your lower lip, the span of his hand on your back has you drunk on him and whispering his name between kisses like a prayer.

...Apparently not quietly enough.

A little hand scrabbling at your shoulder blade brings you out of your haze. As you pull away from Din the baby is climbing over you as quickly as his short limbs will let him. He wedges himself between the two of you with a delighted coo at Din, hands flailing to find his father’s face.

Din heaves a sigh, but there’s no malice in it. “I’m here, ad’ika,” he says, with unmistakable fondness. “We’re all here.”

You can’t stifle a breathless laugh as the baby snuggles into Din’s arms, making himself comfortable for the night.

Your Mandalorian surrenders good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around you with the child tucked safely in the middle. He presses a kiss to your forehead before settling on the pillow beside you. “Sleep, cyare.”

Drowsiness is already fuzzing the edges of your mind again, but it catches on the word he’s said twice now. “What does that mean?” you murmur. “Cyare?”

You feel him smile against your temple, one last brush of his lips. “Share my bunk tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

Inseparable

Steve Rogers x GN!Reader

My Masterlist

You’ve been offering the Avengers legal advice for years. You helped them authorise their missions, and make sure they were protected from the government. In all your time working with them, you’ve never seen anything like the Accords.

“How’s it going?” Steve leans against the door frame of your office at the Avengers compound. You look up at him, the lamp beside you providing little light for you to see him properly. Sighing, you hold up the heavy document, as he sits beside you,

“I’ve highlighted everything I have an issue with.” Steve shifts closer to see the ridiculous amount of yellow highlighter as you flick through the pages. “As you can see it’s not looking great.”

“Thanks for reading through this, sweetheart. I really appreciate it.” You reach out and take his hand.

“Hey, it’s my job to protect you guys. You fight the bad guys. I make sure you keep your human rights.” You joke. Though after reading the Accords you realise it’s not too far from the truth. He gives you a small smile. You squeeze his hand gently. The news of Peggy’s death affected him much more than he let on. It breaks your heart to see him like this. “How’re you doing?” He sighs quietly.

“Not too bad.” You trace your thumb over his hand.

“When’s the funeral?”

“In two days.” You nod. The day of the Accords signing.

“I can come with you?” You offer, though it’s likely he’ll want to be alone. He shakes his head,

“You’re needed here.”

“Not if you need me.” He smiles at your insistence.

“Sam’s offered to come with me. I’ll be okay.” You nod, glad that Sam will be with him.

“I love you.” You whisper, as you pull his hand to your lips. He gives you another smile,

“Love you too.” You look down at the Accords.

“You don’t have to sign this, Steve. You can wait. Wait until I’ve made sure it’s safe, for everyone, to sign it. In the meantime you’ll just have to lay low. Be a little more domestic.” You smile at him softly, “We can have date night on Fridays, movie night on Saturdays, then we can have a roast on Sunday. You could try out some of your Ma’s old recipes.” He seems comforted by your suggestion.

“Is this a sneaky way of getting me to cook you dinner?” You smirk at him, glad he’s smiling more.

“Perhaps?” You rest your head against his shoulder, and he places a kiss against your forehead. “We’ll sort this out, my love.”

“Thank you, doll.”

You’re thinking of Steve when you’re in Vienna, when politicians mention how they wish he was there you agree with them. You do wish he was here. Though you know he’ll never sign the Accords as they are now. You stand at the back of the room, among the hoards of diplomats, assistants, and translators. Then the bomb goes off, and the chaos erupts. You soon find Natasha, and the two of you make it out. You both help with evac before finding out King Chaka is amongst the casualties. And that the main suspect for the bombing is the Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes. Steve’s best friend. Natasha goes to sit with Prince T’Challa. You decide to take a walk along the street, to clear your head. You look down at your phone, seeing Steve’s name flash up on the screen. You answer quickly,

“Hey.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was near the back, so I got lucky.” You hear Steve breathe a sigh of relief, in the background of the call you hear a police siren. You hear the same siren as the car pulls up across the street from you. You stand up, looking around for Steve. You can’t spot him. “I know you’ll want to find Bucky. But please, stay home. I can sort this out.”

“You saying you’ll arrest me?”

“No. I won’t. But someone will. We said we’d lay low after the signing. You’re not going to are you?”

“Doll, if he’s this far gone. I should be the one to bring him in.”

“Steve. Stay safe, please.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Rogers.” You hear him hang up. You look around, hoping to see him somewhere. No sign of him. You sigh, hoping he won’t do anything drastic.

Then you find out Steve’s been arrested. Along with Sam, Bucky, and King T’Challa. So you head to the Task Force Headquarters in Berlin. You watch as they bring Bucky in, locked in a large metal cell. You frown in annoyance. You head towards the black van that’s just parked up. The door is opened and Steve gets out, with Sam, and T’Challa behind him. You stand next to Agent Carter and Agent Ross, a large number of soldiers surrounding the area. Steve looks towards Bucky before turning his gaze to you.

“What’s gonna happen?” He asks as he strides towards your group.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you. Psychological evaluation, and extradition.” You frown at Ross.

“This is Everett Ross,” you introduce him. “Deputy Task Force Commander.”

“What about a lawyer?” Steve asks. Ross smiles,

“A lawyer, that’s funny.”

“I’m working on it.” You tell Steve. Ross gives you a hard stare, which you return.

“Agent Carter, see their weapons are placed in a lockup. We’ll write you a receipt.”

“I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.” Sam comments as the group follows Ross. You stay close to Steve’s side, as he glances back at Bucky. Bucky’s eyes meet Steve’s then glance to you momentarily. He looks almost resigned to his fate. You take a breath before calling out to Ross,

“Why isn’t Sergeant Barnes with the rest of the group?” He laughs quietly,

“You’re kidding?” You shake your head at him. “You’re asking why one of the world's deadliest assassins isn’t walking next to us?”

“The Winter Soldier is one of the world’s most deadly assassins. Sergeant Barnes is America’s longest serving prisoner of war. If this is the respect you give our veterans you should be ashamed of yourself.” Ross isn’t laughing anymore.

“He blew up the UN.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.” You counter. “What proof do you have that he did it?”

“He was photographed at the scene.”

“One grainy photograph is hardly substantial evidence, Commander.” He sighs, knowing that you won’t drop this,

“I’m not the one you should be taking this up with.”

“Who is then?” He gestures towards the glass windows of the office you’re approaching. Where Tony is standing, talking on the phone. After a brief exchange between your groups, Steve sits in one office with Tony. Whilst you stay with Sam and Nat in another office nearby. You look over to Steve as he and Tony talk. It doesn’t take long before their voices are raised at one another. Steve soon heads out and joins you and Sam. Nat goes to stand with Tony whilst the UN psychologist talks with Bucky. You press a button on the intercom which allows you to hear what’s going on. Steve looks down at the photograph taken of Bucky, supposedly when he was in Vienna.

“Why would the Task Force release this photo of him anyway?” Sharon tries to justify it. You have an awful fear that something’s about to happen. Then the power goes out. You tell Steve where they’re holding Bucky, and with that Steve and Sam rush off. You don’t know at the time, but that’s the last time you see Steve for some time.

He gives you one call. He explains that he’s still in Berlin. That he has to go to Siberia, to stop the doctor from releasing the Winter Soldiers. You tell him you understand, you know he has to do this. He tells you to take care of yourself. You tell him to be safe. That you love him. He loves you back. You hear about the fight at the airport. That Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott have been arrested and sent to the Raft. Secretary Ross ignores your demands to see them. You hope that, wherever Steve and Bucky are, they’re safe. Then you see Tony. He seems uncomfortable around you. Like he’s seeing Steve everytime he looks at you, and when that thought crosses his mind, he seems guilty. Like he hasn’t told you something.

Months go by. You don’t hear from Steve at all. Random government agents keep stopping by your apartment to ask you about Steve. It makes you consider leaving, going somewhere else, away from everything that’s happened. But you stay, in the hope that it’ll help Steve find you. One morning you’re woken up by someone hammering at your door. You pull yourself out of bed, and head to the door. It’s some more government agents. They seem new to the game, their threats are half hearted and once you recite all the laws they’d be breaking if they entered your apartment they soon lose their mojo.

“Listen, I have no idea where Captain Rogers is. I assure you, if he happens to swing by, you will be the first to know.” Like hell you’d tell them. They see that you’re not budging, say their goodbyes and leave. It’s not even half an hour until there’s another knock at your door. Granted it’s more gentle than your morning wake up, but it still grates at your nerves. You head to the door, calling out, “For the last Goddamn time, I have no idea where Steve,” you pull open your door. “Rogers is.” You whisper out the last part, shocked by the sight in front of you. It’s him. It’s Steve. You throw yourself into his arms, pulling inside the apartment. He breathes your name against your neck, holding you as close as possible. He pulls back, cupping your face in his hands, looking you up and down.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You laugh a little,

“Am I alright? Steve, what happened to you? I heard Tony say you fought, nobody told me what happened. I feared the worst.”

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m so sorry for leaving you.” You shake your head,

“You did what you had to do. It’s okay, my love.” He nods, pulling you close again.

“I broke our friends out of the Raft.” You look up at him. You know he’d never leave them to pay for standing with him. You nod,

“Bucky?”

“He’s safe.”

“Good.” He squeezes your waist, wanting you closer than ever. He sighs,

“I know you wanted to fix this. I’m sorry, doll. But I don’t see how we can work this out legally anymore.” You shake your head,

“We can’t. That doesn’t matter to me anymore. As long as I have you, that’s all that matters to me.” He sighs,

“I’ll be running from the law now. I’ll let you know how I am when I can. I-” You pull away from him, frowning. You head to your kitchen. “Sweetheart, I know it’s not ideal-” You reach into the cupboard under the sink and pull out the emergency bag you kept hidden there.

“I’m coming with you.” You turn back to him as his eyes widen in surprise.

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“I know. But you’re not leaving me here.” He knows that look on your face. There’s nothing you can’t argue your way out of. He smiles at you,

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america civil war #cacw #captain america #steve rogers au #steven grant rogers #nomad steve rogers

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mona-stay · 3 years

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Secrets part 2 - Peter Hale

Pairing reader x Peter Hale

Warnings, violence, jealously, angst, slow burn, flitty Peter

You take a long breath, thinking that question yourself. After today, Theo’s attitude all you wanted to do was get your stuff and leave. But where would you go. “honestly I’m not sure. I’m gonna see coach use my hand to get out of work. While Theo still here get my stuff and go. The rest I’ll work out later” you say hopeful.

“you know you can always come to me if your stuck, we’re still your friends y/n just because Theo was your boyfriend didn’t mean anything changed with us. Yes Stiles was upset but he got over it” she laughed. Giving you a hug. You’d forgotten how forgiving the Mc'Call pack was.

Once your hand was strapped up, you both left. “If your free later where all going to Derek’s your more than welcome to come” she offers. You tell her you’ll think about it before going back to work.

Coach Finstock took one look at your hand rolling his eyes. “what happened?” he asked.

“fight with my ex” you say watching him laugh. “look any chance I can rest if the day off, we don’t have any practices today and with this hand I won’t be as useful as normal” you ask. To your surprise he agrees and tells you to be in early tomorrow.

You got your bag and started walking to the home you shared with Theo. Feeling dread as you turned the key in the door, taking a deep breath you push the door open to get it over with. You try and ignore the memories you both made in this house.

Walking in the living room you let the tears fall looking at a photo of you both together. You flip the picture down laying face down. It was over, now you had to do what you came to do, pack up and leave.

You started grabbing your stuff from the room, jumping when you hear a voice behind you. “come crawling back” Tracey said with disgust.

“No, but after the way Theo begged me to come back today I could if I wanted to” you sass back wanting to know what she was doing here. You had told in a laugh at the look of hate on her face and the stutter nothing.

You walk past her to get some of your other things. She turns watching you, you can tell she’s trying to think of a way to get to you. “If he’s so into you, why was he with ME , chose to come to ME have ME bouncing on his cock and not you!” she said smug, each time she said the word me she took a step closer, trying to look intimating.

This time you let your held laugh. “oh really, I saw the way he throw you off him. Let me guess the second he walked back after chasing me, he told you to get dressed and get out. Your here now because he’s avoided you and hoping to try and worm your way back in” you tell her.

She looks at you with a blank open mouth expression. The realisation hit you “oh my god I’m right, aren’t I.” You laugh.

“no” she tries to lie but it’s too late you both know Theo dropped her like she meant nothing.

You don’t what came over you, maybe months of feeling the chimera trying to be better than you, pushing you. “what do you think would happen if Theo came home now I told him I was willing to forgive him if he kicks you out if his pack, who do you think he’ll chose, the quick shag he pushed away, or the girlfriend he ran after, cried and begged to take him back?” you couldn’t hide the joy in your face “I think we both know who he would pick”

Tracy looked at you for a second, you tried to read the look in her eyes but they were blank. That was until she launched at you. Groaning in pain as the both of you crashed though the coffee table. She held you pinned under her body, and punches you in the face. Dazed and sore everything was a fast blur, you grab the nearest thing a fallen lamp hitting her in the head with it. The rest of the fight was a mix of you both kicking and hitting each other.

It was Theo and Cory running through the door that stopped you both. They drag you apart Theo’s voice streaming stop and what’s going on. “ask your little slut, she attacked me” you yell, holding your face where it hurt.

“y/n please, she meant nothing to me” he says moving closer to you. Tracey growling from the corner Cory had her pinned in.

You looked at Theo ready to test his loyalty, “really if she means nothing, get rid of her!” you say. A small pause made you fold your arms waiting for his answer.

“baby please, she’s nothing just a pack member, I need all the numbers I can get” he tired to plead with you.

“I can’t look at you both together without seeing you together so make a choice Theo or I’ll make it for you!” you demand. When he didn’t answer, just mumbles a baby please don’t, you look at him heartbroken “fine!” you say walking upstairs to pack your bag.

When you come down Tracy and Cory had gone but you could still see them outside. “y/n don’t go, please you can’t ask me to choose between my pack and you” he pleads. You look trying to find any real emotion in his eyes.

“I loved you Theo, I gave up moving abroad with my sister, my friends here. All for you and you can’t give up one pack member for me, you’d never give up your power for me. I know that now, you say you love me but you’ll always love power more. Goodbye Theo, I hope you find what your looking for” you say holding in your tears as you place a final goodbye kiss on his check, walking out with your suitcase before he can stop you.

You drove to the edge of beacon hills preserve, parking the car sitting on the bonnet, finally letting all the held in emotions out. Lost in your own thoughts, was leaving a good idea, should you have given him a second chance or where do you go next. You wasn’t sure how long you’d sat there for, it wasn’t until you notice it was starting to go dark and cold you moved.

You thought about Lydia knowing Derek’s wasn’t far away, turning on your engine you decide to go. Outside you looked up at the windows debating whether to go in or call first. Lydia my have invited you but what about the others. Before you had a chance to call, a know on the window spooked you.

Peter stood there smiling at you, motioning for you to unlock the door. “well isn’t this a nice surprise seeing you here, I heard you may show up if you left Theo for good” he says happily getting in the car. You didn’t say anything, when he looks at you his eyes scans your face. “he didn’t that to you did he?” he asks.

You shake your head no, “Tracy is responsible for the face n ribs, Theo is only guilty of having a hard head” you say holding up your strapped up wrist.

Peter laughed “I heard you gave him one hell of a punch, stiles seems to think if Theo were human you’d of knocked him out” he says with a tone of awe.

“thanks I think” you laugh “it felt great at the time, if I’m gonna be honest. Now though part of me regrets it, my hand is killing” you joke.

“so you coming up?” he asks about to get out. Your hesitant not sure if your willing to go or not.

“I’m not sure, I don’t know if anyone really wants me there, I was really hoping to catch Lydia, she offered me a place to stay, maybe I can till I sort out where I’m gonna go” you say low

“I’m hurt sweetheart” he says, placing his hands on his chest “you already have my guest room, I guess you really don’t wanna stay with me” he adds with a fake pout. “just joking but my offer is always there, now come on up, I want you there too maybe you can what ever Si-Fi movie Stiles chooses more bearable” you can’t tell if he’s joking or not at the last part.

“okay” you agree, taking one last look in the mirror wiping any make up lines from crying. Peter opened your door, holding out his hand for you. Taking it you step out the car locking it and head to the loft.

Inside everyone seemed happy to see you, even Derek gave you a hug saying he’d missed you. You smile catching the small snarl from Peter. Even Stiles wasn’t harsh with you the most sarcastic thing he said was “glad to see you’ve now seen him for what he is”

You spent the next hour chilling with the group, stiles put star wars on party annoyed when someone would start talking. Your eyes often drifting to Peter, each time you did his would already be on you. He would pull a face or roll his eyes in a way for just you to see.

“y/n, I probably shouldn’t bring this up like this but, have you got somewhere to go tonight or do you wanna stay with me” Lydia asked.

You flash a quick look to Peter who’s now paying attention waiting to hear your answer. Wishing your would go home with him. You smile at Lydia “thanks your too kind but a friend has offered me their guest room for a bit” you say. Not missing the dark and sexy smile Peter gives.

After another hour, the movie ended. Scott and Derek were talking about training both not paying attention it had finished. Stiles asks Malia on her opinion of the film, Lydia and Peter both laughing when she asks what it was about still not understanding why he likes it. You noticed Mason and Liam had switched off, trying to talk quite but every now and then you hear Cory and Theo’s names mentioned. Peter comes and stands behind you whispering into your ear “I’m ready to go, you can stay longer if you want”

You smile up at him saying to give you a few minutes you’d be ready, you had one thing you needed to do first. Peter nods and heads out the flat. While you walk over to Mason and Liam.

“look I know this isn’t my place and I couldn’t help overhearing you before about Cory” you start. Masons shoulders sink as Liam looks defensive by the name. “yes Cory is in Theo’s pack but anything he feels for you is real. And you can trust anything you do or say around him won’t be told.”

Liam doesn’t agree “we caught him sneaking around, working for Theo” his smirk begging you for an excuse.

You shake your head, “no actually, Theo threatened Cory into spying but when Cory refused to say anything useful he was ordered to do it again but by this point I think Cory had feeling for Mason and told Theo he wouldn’t use Mason for information. It was the first and only time that boy stood up to Theo and that was for him.” You tell Liam.

Looking at Mason “it’s up to you but if you like him, go for it. It’s only fear keeping Cory with Theo, remember that” you tell him. Saying bye to the rest of the group you walk out the door catching up with Peter.

You follow Peter the short drive to his penthouse, parking next to his Shelby. Peter took your bag carrying it for you. Once inside he let you get settled as he started to cook. Maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad you thought.

It had been two weeks since you moved in and Peter was struggling getting to the stage he couldn’t cope any more. It wasn’t that you were a bat house guest, in fact you were the opposite, you helped cook clean and even picked up shopping. His problem was his own feelings.

He couldn’t deal with the way you would walk around in shorts and a vest tops, showing off your legs and cleavage. The easy flirting you both shared, looks smiles winks. The way you would say something suggestive making him ask if you meant it or not. The late night drinks where your fall asleep on his lap and he’d carry you to bed. Most of all he hated putting you in a different bed from his. It wouldn’t have been so bad to just watch you keep telling himself it would never happen but after that kiss last week it’s all he wanted now and had it in his grasp. He hated being a good guy.

This morning was no different, Peter walked out of the bathroom wearing just his sweatpants towel drying his damp hair. Something that started driving you crazy, it was hard to tare your eyes from his toned abs.

Peter watches as you dance around the kitchen making breakfast. His eyes trail your body loving and hating the coaches outfit you wore. Something about your knee high socks and shorts set his imagination wild. “morning” he says making you turn to look at him. He could help but smirk when he see you eye him up biting your lips as your eyes trail down his chest.

“hey” you say “Pancakes?” you offer as you sliding the one you just cooked onto a pile of others. Peter nods coming over to sit by you. “Are you coming to the game today?” you ask him. It was the first game of the lacrosse session and your first as assistant coach.

Peter looked amused “really you think I’d go to a high school sports game, it’s not even basketball. Its much better” he jokes. You knew it was a long shot but maybe with it being a big game for you he might of came. “however maybe I could be persuaded” he adds, with that smirk that makes you weak.

Smiling you slide off your stool, coming behind him wrapping your arms around his neck. Letting your fingers brush his chest hair. Moving closer your lips almost touching his ear “well if you do come, maybe I can find a way to show my thanks later” you try to sound seductive.

The small growl from Peters chest makes you laugh, you wanted to tease him as much as he did to you. Moving back you let your nose lightly brush against his ear. Once back in your seat “maybe you can tell me your favourite meal ill make it for you” you laughed.

Peter was going insane, was she doing this on purpose or if she even knew what she was doing. He shook his head, “such a tease, y/n, I should punish you” he said. Unlike y/n Peter knew what his words did to her and if you want to play games he could too. “do you need to be punished sweetheart” he asked.

You bit your lip hoping he was going to come over and spank your ass, do something to end this unspoken game you both played. You keep eye contact with him as he comes closer, arching an eyebrow waiting for an answer. “you wouldn’t punish me Peter, no matter how naughty I am” you say dragging out punish and naughty.

Peter leaned down hovering his lips over yours, his eyes flicked from your eyes to lips and back again. You felt yourself shift in your seat about to move forward to kiss him. Peters smirk changed, his arm reaches around you stealing the last piece of bacon from your plate, putting in his mouth. Giving a laugh as he eat it. Just like Peter you hated the game but wouldn’t play it any other way.

Seeing as Peter finished your breakfast you get ready for work, saying bye to Peter hoping to him at the game.

You were the first one at the school unlocking the doors hoping the team had improved enough to win. Once coach turned up your day was nonstop, he’d made you pull out the bleachers, check equipment,, direct the away team to their dressing room and now had you listening to one of his locker room speeches.

You couldn’t take anymore of his independence day nonsense, leaving the room you headed out to the field. You seen Mason and Cory both making their way out to watch. You smiled seeing them holding hands “hi” you shout jogging to catch up with them.

“well you two look happy” you say. They both give each other shy glances but both beamed a smile at you.

“I guess we should thank you” Mason said, Cory looked confused. “y/n told me how you stood up to Theo for me. She said I should give you a chance” Mason filled Cory in.

You were about to say your welcome until a dreaded voice filled your ears. Tracy came around the corner making you groan. Since living with Peter you’d put Theo out of your head and being busy with the game you didn’t think about them turning up today.

“so you leave and still meddle with our pack, Cory how will Theo feel when he finds out your a turncoat” She said as she stalks towards you. Cory pushes Mason away, warning him with his eyes to find help, not sure what was going to happen.

You looked at her wanting to scream and shout but you couldn’t. “Tracy if your here for the game then go find a seat, if not then leave students can’t be wandering the halls” you say as professional as possible. Cory smiles a thanks walking off your follow him hoping your teacher like warning was enough. It wasn’t, Tracy steps in front of you her claws out ready to attack.

Mason finds Scott and the others panicking telling him to come quick. Theo watches hearing your name he follows. When Cory runs to them and they all run off, Theo brakes into a run too. When he catches up he sees y/n on the floor, Tracy over her with a bloody nose about to claw at her with Kanima venom. “Tracey! Stop!” Theo roars making his beta jump of his ex girlfriend.

Theo grabs her by the throat holding her against the wall as Scott and Cory help you up off the ground. You wasn’t hurt, well not bad maybe some brushing not that was all. You wanted to go and run at Tracy and Theo not sure who you wanted to hit first.

Lucky for you Coach Finstock was in the hall too “what the hell is going on?” he demanded looking at you all. Scott looked at you and everyone else looked at him. You say his name but he stops you “actually don’t want to know, now everyone asses on the field.”

Theo pushed Tracey away ordering her to move, Scott ran to the field as the others headed to their seats. You looked at coach about to explain but all he did was tell you to get back to work.

The first half of the game went smoothly, BHH were leading but not by much, or at least not enough for coach to be happy. You felt annoyed too, after what happened with Tracy you worried about your job and Peter still hadn’t turned up from what you’d seen, the empty chair next to Malia never filled.

To make matters worse, Theo was walking towards you. You turn away hoping he’d just go away, walk past you and not look your way. Luck really wasn’t on your side today, “y/n can we talk I wanna say sorry about Tracy” he says.

You sigh “you didn’t tell her to attack me, but you can keep her on a leash and away from me” you say about to walk away, find some excuse to look busy.

Theo’s body language changes as you feel an arm come around your shoulder. “hello sweetheart, sorry I’m late” Peter say, not taking his eyes from Theo. You smile, nervous at what he’s doing. “is he bothering you, y/n” Peter asks, pulling you in closer to him.

Theo takes a step forward, huffing out his chest trying to look harder. “were working a few things out, can you leave and get your filthy hand off my girl” Theo says.

Peter couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t about to let Theo worm his way back in and he couldn’t resist a bit of fun. “What is it with you teenagers? You think that you’re so special? You think you can tell me what to do?” Peter said, leaning in to place a small kiss on your cheek. Really getting under Theo’s skin and yours. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks confused by the whole situation. Peters casual flirting, Theo looking like he’s about to blow.

Theo grabbed your wrist dragging you out of Peters gentle hold. “she’s mine” he yelled trying to drag behind him as he squared up to Peter. “go near her and watch” he started to threaten.

“get off me Theo! What the hell are you doing” you scream trying to free yourself. You look at Peter his amused smirk waiting to see what Theo would do next, more importantly what you would do. Once free from his hold “Theo this has to stop, we’re not working anything out we’re over and for good. So just leave me alone”

Theo didn’t move at first. His eyes flicking from you to Peter trying to work out what was going on. “so you and him” Theo says in disgust. “this who you’ve been with!”

“it’s not like that” you say low. You wasn’t lying but you wish he was right, you wanted a you and Peter. You look at Peter unable to read his poker face. “but even if there was it’s none of your business anymore”

Peter played fake hurt “sweetheart you wound me, I thought we had something special” he jokes, making Theo growl his eyes flashing gold.

“Peter shut up your not helping” you say seeing Theo’s anger building.

“now, now y/n, that’s no way to speak to your alpha now is it” Peter practically purrs.

This set Theo off. You imagine it was the word alpha that pushed Theo over the edge. He’d always had a hidden alpha kink the one title he craved. Without warning Theo charged at Peter claws out ripping his V-neck. “your no alpha” and “she’ll never be yours” he shouted.

Peter let the young, stupid chimera land his first two or three hits before flashing his own eyes red. Theo looked stunned for a minute letting Peter swipe his claws at the teen. Both of them now had blood on them and if you did do someone one of them most likely Theo would die.

You scream for them to stop about 5 times but each one fallen on deaf ears. Your only option was to try and stop them yourself. You wasn’t sure which one of them clawed you, but your cry of pain made them both stop.

Theo ran to you asking if you were okay and said sorry over an over. Peter looked down is eyes scanning your injuries, feeling easier when he saw they wasn’t deep. Standing up you look at Theo “No, now just go” was call you could say. Not wanting to argue he did, walking of towards the main gate leaving the school. Vowing to Peter it wasn’t over

You look at Peter who’s eyes were back blue. Part of you wanted to ask him what that was all about, why goat Theo into a fight. What was he trying to prove but didn’t have the energy to. You never got a chance the buzzer sounded letting you know the game had restarted. “shit, I gotta go” you tell him running back to work. You would be surprised if you still had a job come Monday.

The rest of the game had been trying, both team scoring making the leader bored jumping back and forth. One of your players taking an injury masking Stiles come on instead. You hated this, five minutes left and both teams drawing. Biting your nail you watch the tean make their play.

You jump when you feel a hand come around the back of your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder his other hand finds your hip. “so do you think the wolfs can pull this off” he said not taking his eyes if the game.

You laughed “since when did you care how they play, wasn’t sure you were even gonna come” you say leaning back into his chest.

“since you asked me, if I’m going do something I give it my full my attention” he answers in his flirty tone.

“you know people will start talking, think somethings going on, if you keep holding me like this” you say but not wanting him to move. You look around to see if anyone was watching, Hayden was, in fact she was stirring and talking on her phone, no doubt filling Theo in. “or are you doing this to piss Theo off more” you laugh.

“I couldn’t care less about Theo he’s not worth any more of our time, now he knows ‘who’ I am I doubt he’ll be showing his face again. Also would it be so bad if there was something going on between us?” he asked.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart race. Your about to tell him no until the winning goal was scored seconds before the final buzzer sounds. For once your team won, Bobby was shouting you over making you jump out of Peters arms, “hold that thought” you say running off to your boss. Peter watches you frustrated wishing you’d look at him how you had in his living the night he took you home.

The stands started to empty, everyone happy with the result. Some of the dumping their sticks to run off and celebrate. Coach ordering you to pack up. “okay” you call back start gathering up equipment to put away. Peter walks over picking up the lacrosse stick, handing it to you. “guess you still have work to do, I’ll see you later” he says but this he seems off. You couldn’t help but smile he’d actually came to say bye.

“your going? I’ll see you at Derek’s right?” you question.

Peter nodded, “you seem busy so I’ll leave you too it, I’ll see you after” he says

“how about you leave your car at yours we can take mine home. No point both of us driving” you say.

Peter smirks “wouldn’t people think something going on of we did” he mocked your words from earlier.

You look up “would it be so bad if they did” you say back seeing Peters smile change to a more happier one as he goes to turn. “see you later” you say running the sticks into the locker room telling the team to hurry up and get changed. It took you and Bobby Finstock around two hours to fully kick everyone out and lock up the school.

Theo stood in the car park, leaning against your car. You roll your eyes, after today you couldn’t take anymore of his shit. “so your really choosing him over me” he asked, his arms folded.

“I’m not choosing him over you, Theo. I’m choosing not to be with you.” You say honestly.

“but he doesn’t love you, I do” he said back hoping you would belive him. “he’s going to use you, hurt you it’s who he is” stepping closer, now starting to scare you a little, you take a breath trying not to let him intimidate you

“you don’t know what love is Theo. You might be right, Peter might hurt me, he might not but at the end of the day Theo you already HAVE hurt me. Not just by cheating on me but letting power and your pack be more important than me.” You say trying to open your car door.

Theo grabs your throat, pinning you to the car “so you really think I’d just let you leave like that” he roars. You start to panic seeing the crazed look in his eye. “your not gonna walk away and betray me, I’d rather kill you first”. He was now squeezing so hard you couldn’t breath, you vision going burly. “If that doesn’t show love, I don’t know what will” he said. You grabbed his wrists, struggling against his power, kicking your your feet at his shins. The panic was real, you thought you were going to die by Theo's hands. His words drowned out by the ringing of your car alarm. Your vision now completely black, lungs stinging for air, all you wished for was Peter.

It was the voice of coach, that made Theo get go. You fell to the floor, gasping for breath. When your vision came back into focus, you saw Bobby pinning Theo against your car. He asked if you were okay and that Stilinski was on his way, you must have blacked out, not hearing him call for anyone. You nod your okay after getting your breath back and calming down, still refusing to go to the hospital even though Bobby insisted you do. Once the sheriff took Theo away, Bobby asked if you wanted driving home, you kindly refuse getting in your car. Looking at the marks Theo left wondering what your gonna say to the others and how Peter will react.

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

#teen wolf #peter hale #derek hale #peter hale x reader #peter hale imagine #teen wolf x reader #theo raeken #tracy stewart #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #lydia martin #Liam dunbar #Mason #coach finstock #Derek hale #part 2 of 3 #teen wolf imagine #peter hale and you #You x teen wolf

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

next to you

I’ve wanted to write this exact scenario for rowaelin for so long and today I was supposed to write for agkol so obviously this came out. Rowaelin - 2.4k

part 2

“It’s totally fine,” Aedion says, his broad arm a warm weight around her shoulders as they both take in the room before them. And the bed. Aelin doesn’t move to take a step any further than their perch in the doorway. “He’s away for the weekend, he won’t know.”

A more sober Aelin would probably protest, but as it is she’s had a couple too many glasses of wine and she really doesn’t fancy having to order an Uber back to her own place.

She had come over to Aedion’s under the pretence of watching a movie with her cousin and his girlfriend, but she had made the first mistake of inviting Dorian who had made the second mistake of bringing the wine.

One thing had led to another which had led to the four of them lying around in various states of non-sobriety in the roof garden of Aedion’s building. At one point she’d slung on his fleece for extra warmth as she curled into Lysandra’s side as they watched the stars. Aedion and Dorian had stood at the railings looking over the city, sharing a smoke as they spoke in voices too low for Aelin to hear.

All in all, a good night.

The view from the roof terrace catches her breath each time she visits, it’s high enough to capture the lines of the city in all directions and being so high up, at such a step back, always feels like a breath of fresh air.

Aedion has a cool apartment, one she wishes she could afford, with it’s basement gym, the scenic garden and it’s unfailing hot water system. It’s a shame she doesn’t spend more time here.

She chews her lip as she takes in the tidy bedroom before her, the crisp green sheets on the bed, the orderly desk in the corner with only a laptop and a lamp atop it, the laundry hamper in the corner surely holding the dirty clothes that in Aelin’s place live on the floor until she can bring herself to wash them.

It wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to crash in Aedion’s roommate’s bed for the night. Like Aedion says, he’s away for the weekend and she can change the sheets afterwards so he'll never know she was there.

She can’t believe she’s actually considering it but the wine is wearing off slightly now leaving her feeling like she wants to collapse into the giant bed and bury herself beneath the covers.

“Well,” Aedion says from her side, his voice only slightly slurred. “It’s here if you want it. I’m going to hit the hay. Whatever you decide, don’t walk home. I can call you a cab.”

“You’re sure he’s away for the weekend?” Aelin says as she shrugs out from underneath his arm.

“Hundred percent,” Aedion nods as she steps closer towards the welcoming bed.

Well, it’s decided then.

“Ah,” Aelin moans as she finally collapses onto the bed. She can’t believe she ever considered getting a taxi home, the sheets beneath her cheek are luxuriously soft and the mattress - gods the mattress. She could sink into it and stay here forever, it cups and moulds around each of her curves and she can’t help the sigh of satisfaction that slips out of her.

Aedion’s laugh sounds from behind her as he shuts the door. “Night, Ae.”

Her own response is muffled into the brushed cotton beneath her. She lies still for a moment, resting her eyes as the buzz of the booze settles into her. There’s a thrumming beneath her skin, and the room spins somewhat as she lays still with her eyes shut gently against the sensations. Her fingertips are definitely tingling, a sign that she knows she’ll feel rotten in the morning, but for now the bliss of a dark room and a soft bed beneath her are all that her mind can care to contemplate.

It’s been a while since she’s hung out with her cousin, both of them just busy, and she’s missed him. She’s missed the easy companionship they have and the slick conversations they have, only aided tonight by the presence of Dorian and Lysandra and the wine.

She snorts a laugh into the sheets and the movement causes the button of her jeans to dig into her stomach. She forces herself up with a groan and just manages to tug off the stiff denim, slinging the offending item across the room somewhere.

She laughs to herself at the thought of her already messing up such a clean room.

She doesn’t know Aedion’s roommate that well. She knows he’s called Rowan, and that he’s twenty-eight and now she knows that he has a disgustingly tidy room. Or he did, she adds to herself as she throws her top to the other side of the room.

Rowan only moved in with her cousin a couple of months ago, but from his room she can guess he’s uptight and quite possibly deathly boring. How Aedion lives with someone like that she doesn’t know, Aelin’s own roommates - Manon and Elide - are the perfect level of chaos with just enough order to function.

Aelin considers her options as she slumps on the corner of his bed, clad only in her underwear. Sleeping in a bra is uncomfortable but would she want to be naked in this stranger’s bed? Whether or not she changes the sheets afterwards he could be sweaty or gross or worse. He could have had guests in this bed before her.

Her gaze lands on a chest of drawers tucked against the wall on the far side of the room and before she knows she’s tiptoeing across and tugging open a drawer. Bingo. In-keeping with the rest of the room there are rows and rows of neatly folded t-shirts and before she can second guess herself she tugs out a black one, tugging it over herself before slipping off her bra and dropping it to the floor.

Another thing she’s learning tonight about Aedion’s mysterious roommate? He’s absolutely huge.

Aelin is far above average height for a woman and still, Rowan’s t-shirt hits mid thigh. She feels somewhat scandalous, in his room and wearing his clothes without his knowledge. A thought pops into her mind before she can help it - she hopes he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

Aelin launches herself back at the bed, sliding into the sleek sheets before flicking off the light at her side. She nestles in tightly, burrowing into the deliciously inviting bed and takes a deep breath. Gods this Rowan person smells good too.

She relaxes into the softness of the sheets and the euphoria that is lying on his mattress. In combination with the wine it doesn’t take her long at all to drift off.

When she wakes Aelin is aware of two things.

Firstly, her mouth tastes like shit. That would be the wine and not brushing her teeth the night before.

Secondly, she’s not alone.

It takes her a few beats to realise, but there’s a strong arm slung around her waist, tucking her into a broad chest. A puff of breath dashes across her neck as the man takes each slow, deep breath as he slumbers behind her.

Aelin lays still for a moment, her brain not yet fully turned on.

She definitely went to bed alone, but maybe-

“Dorian?” She whispers into the dark, trying to roll over to see him, but the strong arm around her waist is clamped too tightly for her to get anything more than a glance. She has no idea where Dorian ended up last night but it wouldn’t be the first time they had ended up in bed together.

“Dorian?” She tries again and the man behind her shifts allowing her an eyeful of the top of the head tucked into the crook of her neck.

Well, the man with the silver hair is definitely not Dorian, and as he shifts he tugs her tighter against him and shit. The pressure of morning wood against her backside is unmistakable.

Aelin’s mouth goes dry as her traitorous body grinds back into it, her ass rubbing against the hard length.

Nope.

“Hey,” She whispers, louder this time as she tries to pry his hand from her waist. “Wake up.”

The man shifts, rolling back slightly away from her, his hand sliding up from her waist to sit on her hip. A low moan sounds from the back of his throat as he begins to wake and damn if Aelin doesn’t clamp her thighs together at the sound.

She finally manages to wrestle herself up onto her elbows and she twists around to get a look at the man she definitely did not share a bed with last night when she went to sleep.

Yet another thing she’s learning about Aedion’s roommate Rowan? He’s fucking gorgeous.

In the dim light of the morning she can make out the sharp line of his jaw and the full curve of his lips, even as they twist into a slight frown. His silver brows are drawn together as he shifts and as his eyes flutter open she’s greeted by the most striking green eyes she’s ever seen.

“What the fuck?” Even his voice is sexy, the low rasp sending shivers down her spine, heat sparking from the hand still resting on her hip.

As though they remember that point of contact at the same time he jerks his hand back and repeats his earlier question. “Who are you?” He hisses.

“I’m Aelin.” She says as though it’s the most obvious answer. “What are you doing in here?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh and Aelin curses herself for how hot she finds it. Objectively, she is in the wrong, but she’s going to blame Aedion.

“What am I doing here?” He says. “This is my bed. What are you doing here?”

Aelin shrugs as if this is a regular occurrence, “Aedion said I could crash here.”

Rowan lifts his hand to draw it across his face, letting out another dark curl of laughter as he rolls onto his back, seemingly needing a minute to process the situation he has found himself in. Aelin catches the shadows of dark ink down his arm and curses her cousin for not introducing them earlier, she’s quite enjoying her morning.

“Did he now?”

She’s very much aware that she’s still tucked into his side, his right arm curled beneath her pillow as he lays back. She drops herself down from her elbows, her head is aching and Rowan doesn’t seem to be making sense of this any time soon so she may as well get comfortable.

He doesn’t shy away from her, in fact his thumb brushes against the cotton of his t-shirt covering her shoulder.

Rowan pulls his hand away from his face and tilts his head to face her fully.

Those green eyes make her feel like she’s caught in the most enticing of traps. She couldn’t look away if she tried.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” He asks, and Aelin shrugs as she glances down at herself.

It’s a glance that allows her the knowledge that Rowan himself is not wearing a shirt and the broad, muscular planes of his chest start her heart beating quickly. The ink on his arm stretches onto his upper chest and Aelin wants to touch.

“You should be thankful,” She says. “I almost didn’t.”

Rowan opens his mouth to say something, but then seems to change his mind. Instead he shifts up onto an elbow and rolls over so that he’s leaning towards her. Aelin can’t stop her brain from imagining how it would feel if he slipped his thigh between hers. How she could shuffle down slightly to press his leg right where she wants it, and the darkening of Rowan’s eyes tells her he’s contemplating giving her exactly what she wants.

When his eyes flick to her lips Aelin wishes she’d bothered to brush her teeth last night.

This is not where she saw her morning going when she was too lazy to call a cab last night but she’s far from complaining.

The cocky smile that slips onto his lips has her mouth dropping open. Short, sharp breaths draw her chest up and down and Rowan glances down to where she’s not wearing a bra beneath his t-shirt and the sleepy but still predatory smile grows.

Aelin can’t draw her eyes away from that smile, away from the wicked curve of his lips as his leg shifts closer to her beneath the covers.

“Aelin, are you-” The burst of light that fills the room as Aedion barges in burns her eyes and Aelin squeezes her eyes shut tight against it.

“Um, I… Rowan?” Her cousin manages, still frozen in the doorway.

Aelin knows what this looks like, Rowan is almost on top of her and she knows she’s flushed from his proximity.

He clears his throat as he eases back away from her, the cool air that fills the space between them clears her head enough for her eyes to flicker open.

“Yeah, I decided to come home last night instead.” His voice is tight, Aelin notes with a hint of pride. “Didn’t know you were offering out my bed while I was gone.”

Aelin can only bite her lip in what she hopes in a not-guilty expression. From the pure bewilderment clouding Aedion’s expression she’s not sure she achieves it.

“You weren’t supposed to be back until later,” Aedion says, his voice still sounding strangled. “I wasn’t expecting this to happen.”

Aelin snorts, tugging herself up to sit against the headboard, her thigh pressing against Rowan’s bare shoulder. His green eyes dart to the point of contact before locking onto her own and that gaze makes Aelin blush all over again.

Rowan huffs a laugh as Aelin says, “Yeah, me neither.”

She can’t draw her eyes away from Rowan’s face. She doesn’t care that he’s probably boring or uptight as she guessed in her snooping through his bedroom last night as long as he keeps on looking at her like that.

“Aedion,” She says in a low voice as she manages to draw her gaze from Rowan, who’s firm shoulder is brushing against her thigh beneath the duvet. “Get out.”

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #the first draft of this was so much hornier #but i'm tempted to make this a prompt fic so held back

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fanficbitch · 3 years

Text

Aaron Hotchner // The Set Up

I sit at my desk like I do every morning in the BAU, just typing on my computer. Aaron was obviously here before I got here, but everyone else is slowly trickling in. “Hey pretty girl,” I hear from behind me. I turn to see Morgan setting down his stuff at his desk.

“Hello hot stuff,” I fire back. He raises his eyebrows at me then sits down.

“Do you know if we have a case yet?” he asks me.

“I think Hotch mentioned something about us having a few days here,” I say.

“Well, that’s a change of pace,” Morgan laughs. I go back to my computer and continue my work. Reid and JJ come in in the meantime, but they go straight to their desks.

Suddenly, Penelope comes bursting into the bullpen. “What’s up babygirl?” Morgan asks as she runs past him.

“Not now sugar,” she tells him as she runs straight to me. “Y/N,” she says breathlessly.

“Yeah Penelope?” I laugh.

“I just met the most perfect man for you,” she says and my stomach drops.

“Oh really, where?” I ask.

“At the coffeeshop down the street. We just started talking and I immediately realized he was the perfect guy for you,” she says. “So I took it upon myself to set you two up on a date.”

I glance in Hotch’s office to make sure he isn’t listening. Sure enough, he is busy writing something on his desk. “You know, I’m so busy-,”

“I’m not taking any excuses!” Penelope shouts. “I already gave him your number, and here is his,” she says and hands me a slip of paper. “He also has my number so if you don’t call him, I’ll know.”

I look at the number and sigh. I know there is nothing but the truth that will get me out of this. But I’m not ready to reveal that yet. “When is this date?” I ask and Penelope squeals.

“Tomorrow night at Capital Grill,” she says then gives me a hug. “You’re the best! Well, actually I’m the best because I set this up!” she says then runs off to the batcave.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Penelope is always trying to set someone up with someone else she finds somewhere. There is just one very important person I need to tell about my date: my boyfriend.

**********

It just so happens that Aaron was planning to spend the night at my house tonight. I didn’t get any time to talk to him during the day, so I need to break the date news to him.

I spit my toothpaste into the sink then glance through the open bathroom door at Aaron who sits in my bed reading a book. It’s okay, this is totally normal. He’ll understand.

I turn off the bathroom light then slide into bed next to Aaron. I lean my head on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his. Aaron stays silent, but a small smile grows on his face. “How was you day?” I ask. He sighs then sets his book down on his nightstand.

“Well, I did a lot of paperwork and went through some past cases. It was pretty busy,” he says. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I did a lot of paperwork too,” I say quickly.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Are you okay? You are acting a little funny.”

I pull my hands back from his body and sigh. “I have a date tomorrow night,” I tell him. He raises his eyebrows again in confusion. He scratches his forehead then turns to me.

“I thought that this relationship was relatively serious,” he says slowly.

“It is, it is,” I reassure him. “It’s just that Penelope came up to me saying she had the perfect guy for me and basically forced me to say yes. And I couldn’t really say no since we aren’t telling anyone about this.”

“I suppose that is a fair point,” Aaron says. “Where are you going?”

“Capital Grill,” I say. Aaron smiles then turns off the lamp on his nightstand.

“Well at least you’ll get a free meal out of it,” he says.

“So you’re okay with this?” I ask carefully.

“Well, no. But it doesn’t sound like you have a choice,” he says then lays down. “Goodnight.”

I sit there, a bit stunned. I guess I’m happy that Aaron is okay with this, but I expected a little more hesitation when I told my boyfriend I have a date with someone else.

**********

I wait at the bar of the Capital Grill sipping a glass of white wine. I got here a little early because I was a bit nervous. The fact that Aaron is completely fine with this date isn’t helping ether. I would think that my boyfriend would care a little bit that I am out with another man. “Y/N?” I hear from behind me.

I spin in the chair to see a tall man with brown curly hair. “Yes, and are you Peter?” I ask and he nods. I stick out my hand and shake his.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” he tells me. “Can I show you to our table?”

“Lead the way,” I smile and follow him through the dimly lit restaurant. We land at a table for two in the corner of the restaurant. Peter pulls out my chair then pushes me in once I sit down. He smiles at me once he sits down across from me.

“I have to admit, I’m not one to go on blind dates, but your friend was very insistent,” he says.

“Yeah, she can get like that,” I chuckle.

“But now meeting you, I am so glad that I said yes,” he says. Heat rushes to my cheeks although the color is covered by the darkness of the room. I am left a little speechless. I don’t want to miss lead him, but I don’t want to be rude either.

“Thank you,” I smile then sip my wine.

“So, your friend mentioned that you work for the FBI. Tell me more about that?” he says.

“Well, I work in the behavioral analysis unit which basically means I analyze killers.”

“Wow, that is incredible. Your work is so-,” Peter says, but I stop listening. A person to my left catches my attention. I see Aaron barreling towards our table with focus on his face.

“A-Aaron?” I ask.

“Who is this?” Peter asks.

“Um, it’s my boss,” I say and Aaron raises his eyebrows at me.

“That’s it? I’m just your boss?” he asks. “I’m sorry to break this up, but you are on a date with my girlfriend,” he says and Peter’s eyes widen.

“I think I’m gonna go,” Peter says then leaves the table.

“I’m sorry,” I say as he walks away. Aaron sits down in Peter’s seat. “Aaron, what in the world are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you go on a date with another man,” he says.

“Well, it didn’t seem like you cared,” I say.

“Of course I care,” he whispers. “You are the best thing to happen to me since Haley died. I know weren’t planning on telling the team for a while, but I think we are going to have to if this keeps happening.”

I sigh. “At this point, I don’t care who knows that you’re my boyfriend.”

“Good,” Aaron smiles. “Now let’s get out out of here.”

I hold out my hand which he takes. “Take me away.”

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santigarcia · 3 years

Text

Dessert is on the Counter

an abel morales x f!reader fic~

word count: 2k

rating: m for smut

summary: you’re a college student and you go home with your friend Elias Morales for Thanksgiving, and you meet his recently divorced older brother Abel....

a/n: this idea was given to me by the lovely @sergeantkane. she was kind enough to let me write this AND make a moodboard for it! this is my first time writing abel so i hope yall like it!

Holidays are never what you expect them to be. This is by far your most eventful thanksgiving to date.

You agree to be a fake girlfriend to your friend Elias. Your good friends, and honestly it would be a fun weekend away. You know his brother has a nice house, and you’d rather stay in New York than go back home. Too many flights to plan.

The house is nicer than you expect when you pull into the driveway. The housekeeper answers the door and she’s a pleasant woman. You can’t seem to find your “boyfriend,” but you do see three young girls run by, playing with their dog. They greet you happily and so does the dog. You set your bag down to bend down to pet the animal when you hear a male voice.

“Did you find the house ok?”

You look up to see the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He’s dressed sharp in a suit, a tan coat draped over his arm. His cologne smells expensive, and his hair is perfect.

“Oh, yes! You have a lovely home. You and your wife must have put a lot into it!”

“Oh, it’s just me.”

“I’m so sorry- “

“Don’t be,” he holds up his hand to ease your worries.

“Don’t be,” Morales repeats. “She’s a bitch. Abel here wised up and left.” He says hopping up on the kitchen counter. Abel only chuckles, but the look in his eyes tells you that Elias speaks the truth.

“How long are you with us…?” Abel pauses realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“Oh shit,” Elias laughs and hops off the counter. He says your name and then introduces you to Abel. He takes your hand in a strong but gentle handshake, and you flush when his fingers stroke your palm as he slides his hand away.

“And I’ll be here just for the weekend!”

Abel nods and returns your smile, “make yourself at home. We’re so glad you’ll be joining us.” He nods and puts his coat on walking towards the front door.

“He’s always working,” Elias says. “Especially after the divorce, threw himself into his work. Come on, let me take you on a tour.”

You walk through the halls and peek in rooms – noticing the life lived here. It’s full of memory, but it’s almost too quiet. Empty. It’s too clean and you can feel the hurt this family has endured.

“She left him and the girls without a word one morning. The papers were on the kitchen counter.”

All night those words run through your head. You lie on the floor, a makeshift pallet in Elias’s bedroom – staring up at the ceiling. How does someone just leave their whole family behind?

You keep thinking about it as you sit across from Abel at the thanksgiving meal. His daughters and a few other children you assume are cousins sit at the designated kid’s table. The adults table is full of the Morales family, they are cheerful and warm. What about this family made his wife want to leave? They’ve been nothing but welcoming to you.

“What are you studying in school?” Abel asks you as he holds out a plate of homemade bread to you. You take a slice, it’s warm. Just like everything else in this house. Your fingers brush his and you hate how it makes you flush. So much so you almost forget the question.

“I’m an anthropology major.”

“Oh?” Abel raises a brow. His interest is piqued. “What made you chose that?”

“People fascinate me and learning about other cultures in the process has opened up my world view. I think it’s important.”

He nods in agreement as he takes a sip of wine.

“Knowing people is a key part in my business. Works better that way.”

“Abel,” groans Elias, “you’re so boring!” He laughs. A couple family members chuckle but mean no harm. You hold Abel’s eyes, and something sparks behind them. Suddenly you get the feeling he’d like to eat you alive. And watching his jaw move while he eats his meal doesn’t help the desire growing between your legs.

As their guest, a couple of the women take your plate and bring you a slice of pie. Abel smiles fondly at you as you enjoy the first bite. Elias has left to go watch the game on TV, but you didn’t notice.

“You’re not really dating him, are you?” Abel chuckles.

“How did you guess?”

“He’s in there, watching the game.” Abel nods his head in the direction of the living room. You can hear voices cheering and a clamor of excitement. “When he could be here with you. And hey, maybe you don’t have to be around each other all the time. But he didn’t even ask if you wanted to join.”

You can’t look at him, he’s too handsome. So, you look past him into the kitchen where more family members wash dishes and start cleaning things up. Someone laughs loudly and Abel turns to see with a smile. It’s so comfortable.

“I bet you’re wondering now why I’m here then.”

“Yes, I am,” he nods with a polite smile and folds his hands together, his dessert finished.

“I wanted to get away. Spend time somewhere else. And Elias is a good friend. I have an anthro project due at the end of the semester, and I wanted to see how different families are at over the holidays.” You pause, “but nothing looks all that different from Thanksgiving at my home.”

Abel asks you more questions and you end up talking for some time. You don’t even notice the relatives leaving. The only thing that stirs you from the conversation is your want for leftovers now that you’re hungry again.

“Thank you for the lovely conversation Mr. Morales,” you smile when you stand finally.

“Abel, please. And it’s been a pleasure. I’m glad you’re here.” He nods.

That night it’s even worse. Laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling thinking about him. You couldn’t sleep if you tried, this floor isn’t comfortable now. You shouldn’t be thinking about Abel, but you can’t help but think about him in his room, alone. His touch was so warm, you can’t imagine what his touch would be like sexually.

Why did his wife leave him? It bothers you.

Elias is snoring, and you can’t sleep – so you get up to go downstairs for a drink. You quietly tiptoe down the hall. You see the girls’ bedrooms, each of their doors has a pink sign with their name on it. A stair creaks when you step on it and you freeze, it’s as if your thoughts of Abel will expose you.

You carry on down the stairs and into the kitchen. There are only a few small lamps on to illuminate the space. But the fridge light pours onto the floor when you open the freezer for some ice in your glass.

“Can’t sleep?”

Abel.

Shit.

You gasp and spin around to see him in comfortable pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. He looks so handsome in the soft light.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright! I hope this is ok…”

“Oh, of course” he points to the sink and you fill your glass. You feel your face warm, knowing he’s watching you. Seeing him while you’re in your pajamas wasn’t what you had in mind.

“And no, I can’t sleep.”

“Something on your mind?” he asks casually, reaching in the cabinet for a mug.

Does he know? No. He can’t know. Can he?

You realize you haven’t answered and instead you’re just standing frozen overfilling you glass of ice water.

“The floor isn’t comfortable,” you say instead, which is also the truth.

“The floor?” he pauses, setting the mug down. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Well, we aren’t- “

“No, I know you’re not dating, but why did he give you the floor? I outta kick his ass for treating a guest that way. Especially one so pretty,” he smiles, there’s a glint in his eye of flirtation- harmless, but you want more of it.

“You know, Abel, it’s not my place to say this but I think your wife made a mistake.”

He takes a step closer to you and you feel your heart pounding in your throat.

“Things happen the way they are supposed to,” he says, taking a step closer. You take a drink from your water, but he pulls the glass from your lips.

“I shouldn’t-“ you whisper.

“Why not?” Abel sets your glass down. There’s a chill on his fingertips when he touches your cheek. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes all day. If you don’t want this, then please say so. But if you do, then please- kiss me.”

Throwing all caution to the wind, you wrap your arms around him and kiss him deeply. He grunts into your mouth and helps you hop up on the counter. Your legs wrap around him tightly, pulling him towards you. His mouth hasn’t left yours and the moans leaving your mouth already are full of need.

“Please,” you whine and buck your hips against him. His hands slide into your waistband and he’s quick to find your clit. The gasp you let out is obscene, and he claps his hand over your mouth. He gives you a little grin of satisfaction and he rubs your clit perfectly.

No one you’ve been with have touched you like this. You’re a 23-year-old college student, all your past relationships have been too inexperienced for good pleasure. This is a man who knows how to touch a woman.

He keeps up his pace and he doesn’t stop until your panties are soaking wet.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, looking in your eyes. You know he’ll stop if you ask. But you’d rather die than him stop right now.

You shake your head yes, and he moves his hand. He pulls down his pajama pants enough to pull himself free. He’s already hard and ready for you. You moan again and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he’s testing the waters and you’re ready to drown. You nod quickly as he slips off your pants and pushes your panties aside. He then lines himself up with you. He thumbs your clit with one hand as he guides himself in with the other. You stifle a moan, and he can’t help but chuckle quietly at your attempts to be quiet.

He thrusts into you, hard. You see stars and clench around him. Everything about him is too much, but just in the right way. His voice is smooth, his skin is warm. His hair is perfect and you’re messing it up with your fingers while he pounds into you on the kitchen counter next to the leftover desserts from today.

His thumb stays there on you while he thrusts, his other hand gripping the counter for support. When you near your end, his big hand finds the small of your back and pulls you as close to him as possible.

He makes sure you come again before he does. His moans are soft, his eyes asking you permission. You nibble on his ear and whine a yes when he spills himself into your heat.

“You wanna come sleep in my bed?” he whispers into your neck as he places a kiss there.

You nod and he pulls out, helping you slide off the counter.

He takes you again in the bedroom. Twice. He strips you naked and enjoys the touch of your skin. He worships you in his big bed. Once it crosses your mind he slept with his wife in this big bed. But you soon forget when he’s balls deep and making you come a fourth time that night.

You don’t want to explain this one to Elias tomorrow, but it’s better than sleeping on the floor.

@punkpascal, @writefightandflightclub, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @himbodjarin, @pascalz, @bisexual-space-slut, @shadow-assassin-blix

#abel morales #abel morales x reader #a most violent year #oscar isaac #my writing #this has been in my drafts for EVER

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kaimelia · 3 years

Note

can u please write one about the episode like amelia in the house and then in the end with meredith when they ate donuts

unconditional

a/n: hi! thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy it!

---------------

"Maybe donuts weren't the best idea right before bed," Link muttered, glancing over at the kid's dance party in the living room. "They're not going down for hours."

"It's okay. I've missed the loud house with kids everywhere; it's comforting to be back. Even if I have a bit of a headache right now." Meredith smiled at him. "Thank you. Both of you, for everything you've done over these past months, I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it."

"Hey, you would do the same if something happened to Amelia or me."

"You're giving me a lot of credit here," Meredith laughed, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. "Speaking of him, where is Scout? I haven't seen him in forever."

"He's asleep, but I'm sure he'll be up any minute now. He's teething, so he is not enjoying life right now." Amelia walked into the living room, two mugs of tea in hand, handing one to Meredith.

"Mhm, thank you." The brunette sat down next to her boyfriend, leaning into his side as she brought her mug up to her mouth.

"How do you feel, Mer?"

"Still not a hundred percent. And, I'm not going to have an easy time getting off of this couch, so I'll need help getting up later, but I'm just so glad to be at home." Amelia smiled and laid her head on Link's shoulder, placing her mug down on the table.

"Well, Maggie is currently drowning in wedding planning, so if you're gonna lay in bed, you can help her get some of that done," she raised her eyebrows, watching as her sister sighed heavily. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just, it's a lot," Meredith laughed, nursing the mug of tea between her hands. Link glanced over at her and stood.

"Alright, kids, why don't we all head up to bed? It's late, and your Mommy needs to relax," he scooped Ellis up into his arms, causing her to giggle.

"Come give Mommy one more hug before bed," Meredith held her arms out wide as the kids came running over, jumping up into her embrace. "I missed you all so much," she whispered, kissing each of their heads and saying goodnight before Link chased them up the stairs, leaving the two women alone. "You're gonna marry that man, right? Because the more I get to know him, the more I feel like I missed out." Amelia blushed, shaking her head in amusement.

"Not right now, but one day. We're just taking things as they come and trying to find our way through this mess. Hopefully, now, we can have some more time to just be a couple and figure things out."

"Wait, are you moving out on me?"

"No, not for a while, at least. We'll stick around until things go back to normal, and then we'll probably look at getting our own place. Because I love it here, but I don't think there's space for Scout to grow up." She glanced over at the stairs as Link came down, clasping his hands together.

"Everyone's in their beds. Not exactly asleep yet, it'll take a little longer for the sugar crash to hit, but they're all upstairs." He resumed his previous position beside Amelia, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "What're we talking about?"

"Moving out," Amelia whispered, curling into his side. "Someday in the future."

"You better stay close by. Maggie said that her and Winston's place is almost twenty minutes away, and I'm gonna need people closer. I haven't been alone in the longest time."

"You're not alone, Mer. Us moving out someday doesn't mean that we still won't be here for you all the time." Meredith nodded slowly, her lips pursed into a tight smile.

"I hate to ask, but do the kids know about Andrew?"

"No, it happened right after you got put on a ventilator, and we weren't sure they would take it well. And they haven't really asked because no one stops by anymore. They probably just think that he's working. But, if you want to tell them, we'll help," Amelia's voice was soft, and she let out a sigh afterward. "How're you feeling about it?"

"I'm gonna tell you something, but you both have to promise not to admit me to a psych ward after." The couple raised their eyebrows simultaneously, waiting for her to continue. "When I was sick, my brain would send me to a beach. I think it was supposed to be somewhere where I find comfort, but I saw people and talked to them while I was there. Dead people." Amelia sat up straight, and Link dropped his hand to her back, rubbing softly.

"Derek?" Meredith nodded.

"I know it's just some world that my brain made up, but in my world, he's been watching over us, and he knows about Scout." The neurosurgeon smiled sadly, turning to look at her boyfriend for a moment. "Anyway, uh, I saw and talked to a lot of my friends and family who had died, but also some people who are alive, like Bailey and Hayes. And, Andrew was there, and he left with his mother, so I sort of knew that he died before anyone told me, which sounds insane, but it's what happened." She was silent for a time after, sipping her tea slowly.

"You're not still seeing dead people, though, right? Because if you are, we might actually have to call a psychologist," Link muttered, his eyes wide. Amelia hit her hand against his chest.

"No, none yet, at least. I'll let you know if I do, though." Meredith grinned at him before a yawn fell from her mouth. "You'd think that after all the time I spent unconscious and asleep, I wouldn't be tired anymore."

"You were fighting the whole time, Mer, and you're still recovering."

"You gonna need help getting upstairs?" Meredith nodded slowly, watching as Link stood up. "Alright, ready?"

"What are you doing-oh!" She laughed as he lifted her up, holding her bridal style in his arms. "Amelia, I'm stealing your boyfriend!" Amelia grinned, taking the empty mugs and placing them into the sink among the other dirty dishes, turning off the lights, and heading upstairs. She walked down the hall to see Link pulling the comforter over Meredith's body.

"Goodnight, Mer," she poked her head in the doorway, "I'm glad you're back."

"Thank you two for everything. Try and keep the sex noises down," Meredith muttered, turning on her side. Link turned off the lamp as he laughed, whispering goodnight before following Amelia down the hall to their bedroom.

"Do not get any ideas, Atticus Lincoln. We are going to sleep because I spent the whole day chasing those kids around, and I need to crash."

"Fine." He feigned annoyance, quickly changing into his pajamas and joining her in the bed. "Goodnight, Amelia."

"Goodnight."

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelia x link #amelink fanfiction #atticus lincoln #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #meredith grey

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fishytrouble1 · 3 years

Text

Sidemen Mafia: Part 2 - An Unplanned Reunion

BehzingaxReader

IMPORTANT: TRIGGER WARNING - mentions of sexual assault and attempted rape, as well as mentions of nightmares due to trauma (although this isn’t overly triggering it may be to some).

You were trying to get some rest in the little alley you had found, however you could not find a comfortable place or way to sleep, You were thankful that you packed a jumper in your small bag when you ran, as you were regretting staying out in the cold.

You tried and tried to rest for at least another hour but it still didn’t work. You decided to pack up and carry on walking; you hoped to find somewhere comfier to rest or at least a place you could sneak into, to sleep in for a night. After packing up you went to exit the alley but before you knew what was happening you pinned against a wall.

You went to fight back but a gun was pressed against your head. You knew if you wanted to, you could get out of this but your fear of death overtook your emotions

“What’s such a cute lass like you doing out here in dark alleys? You never know what creeps might be out here.” He grins whilst slowly sliding his free hand up your leg.

“I was just leaving.” You say trying to walk away but he grabs you and pushes you back against the wall. It was hard enough that it made you hit your head against the wall.

“No you’re not.” He smirks but leans closer and starts kissing you. You try and push away but your attempts were in vain. You could also feel your head hurting more from the blood you felt slowly creeping down to your neck.

In order to give yourself some time to escape you bit his lip as hard as you could. However much it hurt him it didn’t make him release you.

“Well that wasn’t very kind now.” He frowns in happiness that you tried that. “I think you need to be taught how to treat others with respect.” He throws you to the ground and straddles you. He hits you in the face before trying to pull your jeans down.

Due to the blood loss and utter shock and fear of the situation, all you could manage to do was scream, and hope someone could hear you. You managed to get a few screams out before the stranger muffled your screams with a cloth he pulled from his pocket.

He hit you once again and you couldn’t help but feel like this was going to be it for you. In some ways it was fitting that you escaped your hell, in which you thought would kill you, just to have your life ended whilst you were free.

You close your eyes and wait for him to finish beating you, but you soon felt him being pulled from you.

“Miss, are you okay? Hello, miss?” You heard a man’s voice trying to talk to you as softly as possible. You slowly open your eyes to see a man staring back at you in concern.

“I’m Josh, those two over there are Simon and Harry. And JJ is taking care of the man who was attacking you. We heard you screaming and were worried we wouldn’t make it in time. Do you mind if Harry checks you over, he’s a doctor so he knows what he’s doing.” He smile in a comforting way as he helps you stand up.

You smiled and went to thank them but before you could you felt yourself black out and falling at the same time.

Josh’s P.O.V.

The girl was about to say something but she collapsed before she could. I was lucky I managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Harry, help me get her in the car and sit with her. Simon can you wait for JJ and then meet us back at the apartment. We’ll take her there and hope he lets her stay a while to rest up and heal.”

Me and Harry drive back to the apartment. I carry her into the elevator while Harry is applying pressure tot he wound on her head. I was worried what HE might think about her being here but hopefully he’ll listen to reason.

Making our way in I sneak into a spare bedroom to lay her down and leave Harry to check her over so I can go and talk to him about the situation. I find him sitting in the alcohol bar in the living room, drinking whiskey. He only drinks that if something is troubling him.

“What’s got you drinking whiskey at 1am in the morning?” I go around the bar and stand opposite him whilst waiting for him to tell me.

“There was this girl in my mum’s café today. I don’t know who she is and where she comes from but she was obviously troubled somehow or at least running from something troubling. I offered her a hotel room here for a couple nights but she declined, first girl to not be affected by me at all.” Ethan explains whilst finishing his whiskey, so being the other side of the bar I pour him a drink.

“Wow, a girl managed to avoid your charms how did that happen?” I reply sarcastically. “Ethan, it was bound to happen sooner than later.”

“I know it was just, there was something about her that made me want to make sure she was okay and protect her.” This shocked me as Ethan had never had this type of instant feeling about anyone let alone some strange girl.

“Wow, she must really have been special or different for you to feel like that.” He nods. “Anyways, I might have brought someone back to the apartment that isn’t one of the boys or Talia or Frey.” I tell him.

“Josh, you know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wouldn’t have done this unless I needed to.”

“Fine, but don’t expect to make this a regular thing.” Ethan says. Just as he finishes his whiskey the other guys enter following behind Harry. They all sit the other side of the bar whilst I start pouring them some drinks.

“How is she doing Harry?” I ask.

“She should be okay but she might wake up with either short term memory loss or slight concussion, but nothing too serious.” Harry explains before taking a vodka shot. Whenever he has to help a female he gets a bit emotional and tends to drink for a few straight hours.

We’re all sat discussing tomorrow’s plans, and how to help the girl in the bedroom when we’re interrupted by screams. Being the people we are all 7 of us rush to the bedroom, me leading knowing which room I put her in.

We enter to see her sat upright with tears coming out of her eyes. She looks at us and moves further back into the bed. But she notices something at the back at the room causing her eyes to widen. We turn to see that Ethan and her were staring at each other like they know each other.

OH MY GOD! This must be the girl he met earlier today at his mum’s café.

“Ethan, what’s going on?” Harry started moving forward to tend to the wound she had re-opened on the back of her head but she grabs the lamp next to the bed side table and throws it at the wall next to Harry, causing him to step back.

I go to talk to her but Ethan moves and sits on the bed, she doesn’t seem to flinch or even care he was there. But what happened next shocked us. She jumped onto him and started crying into his shoulder whilst he held her and stroked her head.

He looked at us and made us leave the room.

“Did he just...?” Vik goes to ask but I shake my head to stop him. I then ushered them all into the bar, where we waited for Ethan to come back out and tell us everything.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I’m now sat in Ethan’s lap crying into his shoulder whilst he’s comforting me. I don’t know why I did that, but for some reason I felt comfortable with him in order to just cry.

“Y/N what’s going on? I didn’t expect to find you here let alone upset and terrified.” Ethan asks, worry evident on his face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to come and cause trouble for you or your friends. It’s just I...” I hesitated before sighing and deciding to tell him everything.

After I explained my night and how I ended up here he just hugged me again.

“I’m sorry I should’ve insisted you stay here in a room. I know what men are like in the city and should’ve tried harder to get you to stay.” He admits looking down guiltily. I take me hand and lay it on his cheek softly and lift his face to look at me.

“Ethan, it’s not your fault okay. If you’d have insisted it would’ve pushed me into a more dangerous situation then the one I landed in. Anyways I’m fine thanks to your friends out there. Speaking of can you introduce me I kind of want to thank them.” I smile at him as he leans into my touch.

“Of course.” He replies, but before we get him I see him staring at me and I can’t help but to do the same. He leans in and before I knew it we were both engaged in a passionate kiss.

He pulls away and places his forehead against mine. “Well...I didn’t expect that to feel so...”

“Amazing?” You question to finish his sentence, to which he laughs and nods.

“Come on, let me introduce you to the guys.” He grabs my hand and pulls me up before leading me into what I would call an interesting meeting.

END

Part 1

Part 3

#sidemen #sidemen fanfiction #behzinga x reader #behzinga #zerkaa #joshua bradley #ethan payne #miniminter #simon minter #ksi #ksiolajidebt #olajide olatunji #vikkstar123 #vikram barn #w2s #Harry Lewis #tbjzl #tobi brown #secrets

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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how to lose someone in seven steps? | yangyang

— summary: yangyang lives his life going from party to party, but when one grand event suddenly threatens to make him lose all his money, she ponders if she should break his heart in pieces or not. instead, she teaches him how to live a normal life.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: liu yangyang x reader — genre: rich kid!au ; magnate!au ; singer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: fluff ; angst ; romance ; humor ; drama — word count: 11,304 — playlist: criminal – taemin ; dway! – jackson wang ; 7 rings – ariana grande ; lifted – cl ; leonidas – yangyang ; +5 stars+ - cl — note: you have to read the prologue before reading this route.

Bottles stacked on top of one another, organized, some from the eighties, other from the latest few years. Shelves that clad themselves in pristine class, though their surroundings are dangerous for such expensiveness. There, with a dress that fits her body a little bit too tightly, she truly wonders what goes on through rich people’s heads. Money, obviously—how to spend it, how to waste it, and how to win it again, but whoever owns this mansion doesn’t think about the fact that any of the drunkards around the party could eventually knock themselves over with this shelf filled with alcohol—from wine to champagne—and possibly die in the process from a shard of glass going through their heads, or that someone could steal from him. Bottles lonely, void of anything to protect them, just a slide of the glass enough to grasp the material.

Though, she knows what she is doing. Tugging at the gold dress that Liying insisted on buying for her, she hopes that no one sees her. Not that she should be thinking when Hao specifically brought her to this party to socialize with possible record label owners or other artists that would want to collaborate with her—but after a while of speaking about nothing at all and sipping on the same glass of champagne, she feels drained out of energy. The host of the party word of mouth and yet, nowhere to be seen.

Cutting the chase, she turns around to see if she can find Hao somewhere. The living room is packed, people gathered dancing, some sprawling themselves on the couches, smoking and drinking. Nearby, a man tugs a woman to his lap, her cigarette falling on the floor to remain unlit as another person joins them. It’s only a matter of second before she feels her blood boiling in embarrassment, crossing one arm across her chest to hold her elbow upright with her drink when she sees the kiss shared by three. Parties like these do get a bit crazy.

The mansion is pretty, though, and while Hao is out—somewhere—trying to get her a record deal, she basks in the material beings around her. Golden walls, red decorations, and floors that were pristine when she had gotten there earlier but are now dusted in alcohol and ashes. She gives one step forward, then two, and she stops herself, not knowing exactly where to go. She has already talked to some people, but her social batteries are running out.

Getting her phone out of her purse, she puts her lips together until they decolorate the slightest under the pressure, typing a message for Hao. Not that she couldn’t call him, but screaming over the music as Post Malone plays for the umpteenth time just doesn’t sound like the best of ideas.

To: Hao-Hao.

Where you at?

I want to go home.

The response comes sooner than expected, her phone vibrating in between her fingers.

From: Hao-Hao.

I’m talking to the son of a record label’s CEO.

You can’t go now.

He’s a bit drunk but I’m taking care of him so he can hear you sing once he’s more sober.

To: Hao-Hao.

I’ll step out for a few minutes, then.

Call me when you need me. I won’t leave.

The sigh that rips from her throat only lets go when her phone plops back in place in the almost-empty purse, her heels clicking against the black tiles of the mansion. With each swing of her hips, energy drains itself out of her body. There is nothing that she would have wished for more than just lay herself flat on her bed, start a video-chat with her friends and just get lost in the conversation. At first, she thought it would be easier, speech slurred that would help her sound more appealing to those who are drunker than her, but no one pays attention to possible talents in parties like these.

The coldness of the night bites at her arms, as well as some mosquitoes, scattering across her ankles and making her hiss as she continues scratching herself. A fountain stands right at the front, surrounded by trees and a few sports cars. One of those cars, however, is Hao’s old, dark thing that seemed to be much less cool in comparison.

A swat of her hand against her skin has her hissing.

Fuck mosquitoes.

Fuck this party.

Fuck the broken dream that she keeps chasing with the hope of her story turning out to be more interesting than it really is.

From the far distance, just as she leans back against one of the many cars there, an engine starts to roar to life—getting closer and closer, perhaps wanting to get to the party faster, catching the attention of the entire block, not that they would care. With the golden fabric of her dress barely covering her from the coldness of the white convertible, she takes her phone out again to talk in the group-chat, but as her fingers work against the screen, the car gets closer. The wheels become music at that moment, the culprit making its appearance as the car enters the mansion, barely giving the security guards at the entrance any time to open the gates.

A gorgeous night blue makes the car outstanding, blend into the night but make it more noticeable in between the expensive cherry reds and the bone whites. Instead, the driver parks nearer to the mansion, closer to one of the street lamps by the entrance, draping its white glow onto the concrete that leads to the main door. Whoever the owner of the car is manages to park the car backwards, roaring the engine a few more times when he’s put in place before moving back a bit more…

And a bit more…

Even more…

Then, comes the crash. Miniscule, but enough to create a dent on the night-sky car.

The coolness only lasted for a second.

She has to look away, because she may not be an avid driver…but even she knows that getting too close to a street light wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she brings her phone up her face to use it as an excuse, eyes inspecting the car’s door when it opens, watching a set of slim legs peak out before the entirety of the owner makes his presence known.

Blown portions of his brown hair end up in the slits between his fingers, gripping at the strands for dear life as he stares at the dent on his car. Parted, obscured and defined lips call out for her attention, the ‘o’ in them almost funny had it not been for his beauty. His brown eyes widen in panic, knees creaking under his weight when he kneels beside his car and actually, for real, plants a kiss on the surface before connecting his forehead with it. If she is not mistaken, the sigh that rips from those precious lips sounds like an apology.

It’s none of her business, she tells herself, but when she crosses one leg over the other, she realizes just how freezing the night is, her thighs in full display while the handsome idiot with the car looks as toasty as ever. A blue hoodie on top of his body, black ripped jeans making his legs look like they last for miles and even some more. His shoes, however, are one of the latest releases of a popular brand that she feels like she heard one of her friends speaking about. Maybe Elena.

Maybe, he’ll have enough of a heart to give her something to cover herself up with—that’s the excuse she uses when she pulls her weight away from the white convertible that held her up to go over to him. The clicking of her heels does nothing to call out for his attention, forehead still pressed to his car like the main character of a romantic movie asking for the forgiveness of his partner after fucking up.

He did fuck up…his very expensive sports car, for example.

“Hey…” Her voice wavers a bit, eyes trailing down to the kneeling man. At this point, his thighs may be burning over the forced squat he is doing. “Are you crying right now?”

That seems to make him pull away from his car, pushing his face off the car before widening his eyes in the process. Not a single glistening tear clads his irises, so he seems to be fine. “Wh—? What? No.” He scoffs in the process, standing up and licking his lips in the process. “I’m just…some douche…one of my friends, like, he’s a total douche, he—ah, he crashed my car against the…the thing—”

“I saw you crash your own car.”

The puppeteer lets go of the marionette in him, shoulders dropping, legs becoming flimsy as his faux smile turns into somewhat of a pout, arms crossed over his chest to indicate just how attacked he feels right now. The grin from her is inevitable. “Then, why do you ask?” He conquers, though, one look at her has him giving a double-take, and sure, she looks good…but the squint of his eyes and the frown on his face is for something else. “You look oddly familiar. Have I, like, seen you before?”

“Have you?” Now that she thinks about it, the defined lines of his lips somewhat click on her. From where? She doesn’t know. “Now that you say it, I feel like I have seen you…”

Wiping his—probably—sweaty hands on his jeans, he claps his hands together. “Like, for real, I have seen you.”

“Maybe, the crash did something to your head, I don’t know.”

The guy in question can only hiss in the process. “That’s your nicest try for a joke?”

“That’s your nicest way of parking?” She asks, one thumb going over to his still very much dented car before sighing. “What’s your name? Because I really feel like I know you.”

Though, she does have a plan—leaving this poor man crying about his convertible isn’t something she is planning to do tonight. At most, she will call her brother-in-law and see if he knows someone who can fix cars, just if he wants the number. Not like he needs it with the amount of money he clearly has. “Liu Yangyang.” He replies, his hands placed on his hips when he looks at his car. “And that’s Emilia, my baby.”

“…You crashed your baby against a light—”

“My baby betrayed me and went a little too far, mind you.” Though, now that she has laughed and her phone is, once again, on her hand, she can think about that name. Liu Yangyang, Liu Yangyang.

Fuck.

Liu Yangyang!

“Oh my God, you’re Liying’s ex!” That’s not the kind of sentence that must have left her lips at that moment, but it’s what comes out of her. It takes a few seconds for Yangyang to process what she just said, pursing his lips in the process before squinting at her once again.

“And you’re part of her friends’ group. The little Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” Yangyang replies, though his voice begs to do no harm, she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt by his words.

“We are not a Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” She corrects, not realizing just how punctuated her words are coming out until Yangyang chuckles at her.

“You just did a sick dance move with your neck, bro.” The young man adds, making sure to move his head from side to side, perhaps more stylishly than her. “Are you sure you’re not a dancer?”

“I was going to call someone to help you out, but I’m not going to anymore.” She says, though Yangyang shrugs his shoulders.

“Dad will pay for it.” He adds, looking around for a few seconds. “And if you’re the only person who saw it, I just need to keep you quiet about it.”

“Why? Stuff like this happens at parties all the time—”

“Not when you’re the host and you’re not the slightest bit drunk, no.” This mansion…this goddamned piece of art that looks like it could be a castle, with how tall the walls are and how gorgeously decorated it is, belongs to no other than Liying’s ex?

“T—This is your house?” She asks, fingers widely pointing at the entrance before Yangyang nods. “What were you even doing outside? You’re the host!”

“You know, like, when it’s someone’s Sweet Sixteen party, they just arrive later than everyone and make a grand appearance and it’s, like, I don’t know, cool or whatever?” With the rapidness of his voice and how excited he seems to be about this situation, she can’t help but be in awe. “I was aiming for that.”

“Were you also aiming to crash your car or did your Dad pay for your license, too?” With the smile that appears on his features, somewhat shameful as he looks to the side, she can’t help but clutch her phone closer to her chest. “You bought your driver’s license!”

Yangyang rushes to place both of his slim hands on her cherry red lips, shushing her in the process, his face mere centimeters away from hers. “What do I have to do to keep you quiet? I need to look cool, still.”

Not that she was planning to ask him for anything, so she pushes his hands away from her mouth. “Ew, dude, I don’t know where your hands have been—”

“That’s not usually how that goes.” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself, before opening the door to his car once again. Bending down, he seems to be looking for something in the front portion of his car. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not that bad of a guy. I wash my hands.”

“Sure, you do.” She replies, aware of the fact that this is the man Liying had rolled her eyes to a bunch of times. Didn’t she ask her to break his heart like a month ago? Yangyang’s immature, from what she has heard, but the rest of him is a secret. “You don’t have to give me anything. I’ll just stay around this party for a bit longer and then, I’ll call it quits.”

“Aw, why? Is Taeyeon missing?”

“Taeyeon?” At the mention of such a name, she frowns.

Still, he continues to speak from inside his car, putting a few things together that she can’t quite make out from her position. “You know, like, Taeyeon from Girls’ Generation.”

“Huh?”

“I’m joking.” Dragging his voice, he comes out with a bag in between his hands. Typical in its beige and brown color, Louis Vuitton with just one clear glance. What is even more impressive than the purse on itself is how he pushes it towards her hands. “There you go, your gift.”

“…Yangyang, what language are you speaking in? I don’t even—What are you doing?” She asks, taking the purse in between her hands before shaking her head.

“Actually, I speak some. German, English…I took some Spanish classes—”

“Yangyang, I can’t take this purse.”

“It’s not that expensive.” He shrugs, as if this is really not worth more than anything she owns. Even more than her entire apartment compiled together. “Besides, you didn’t make a big deal out of me and Emilia having a moment, so…I’m letting you go with this bag. I brought it with me today, but I think it’ll go better with your outfit…” Though, she doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail down her body before correcting himself, blinking quickly and giving one of his infamous smiles. “Take it.”

“Yangyang, no—”

Unexpected are the steps he gives towards the door, rushed as he runs away from her, looking over his shoulders as he screams: “Too late, I’m already going.” Though, when he opens the door in one swift motion, he doesn’t forget to add something else. “See you later at the party.”

Though, she can’t even walk forwards to search for Yangyang in between the masses of people when she feels her phone buzzing in her purse.

Well, her original purse, not the Louis Vuitton one.

Is it even hers now?

From: Hao-Hao.

Go home…

The guy fell asleep after vomiting on my shoes.

It’s safe to say we’ve done nothing in this party.

Two steps back make her heels waver under the weight of the droplets of champagne on her system. Tugging both purses over her shoulder, she smiles. Yangyang, more than immature, has that youthful person that not a lot of people have.

###

Birthday parties are already not that good to start with. Put one single candle on a cake and start singing a song, that’s the best way to make anyone feel out of place and awkward. They are even worse when she feels two children tugging at her pants, and thank goodness a white belt wraps around the baggy beige pants, because they would have been at her feet had it been for Liying’s daughter’s friends.

Some people just launch themselves at their dreams as if they were a rocket, and Liying is one of them. Last year, when her stress reached her peak and her dating list only got longer with more mistakes, she decided to draw a line over all men in her life and go for her biggest dream all on her own. It wasn’t the clothing line that she had already worked in—and that, somehow, people were always surprised to hear about when seeing how plainly she dressed—, but having a child instead. That’s where the four-year-old child by her mother’s legs came along, adopted a year ago and still very much adoring her small, loving family.

But this is her first birthday party, and Liying had gone over the moon with preparations. Everything pink, in the shade of Peppa Pig, with children songs playing in the background as some of them scream, jump, and one of them even blows bubblegum into the air only to cover his face in the sticky substance. Surprise. The bubblegum is also very pink.

Liying picks her daughter up from the ground then, placing her against her hip as she gets closer to her. “Chengxiao, Mei, let go of her legs. She can’t even walk.” The monotone tone must have worked more than her pathetic plea, widening her eyes in adoration when seeing one of her best friends with her. “Did you buy the candles I told you about? I’m sure we need to give them some sugar before they start going crazy.”

She doesn’t know if she just chuckled or sighed. “Isn’t it too much sugar already?”

“It’s never enough sugar for them.” Liying conquers, placing a kiss on her daughter’s cheek before putting her down again. “Baby, tell all your friends to gather so we can start singing the birthday song!”

“Yes, mama!”

Liying pushes the strands of her dark hair away from her face, putting it up in a bun before asking. “So, candles?”

“I can’t even walk, Liying. They’re in my purse.” She points, well aware that she needs her bed more than ever right now. Not only had Chengxiao thrown a tantrum when she had not sung the Peppa Pig theme song for the umpteenth time, but she also had to take care of the other children. Wipe the bubblegum away from that little dude’s face. Make sure that everyone in well fed. Over everything, she has to pick the music and Lord forbid she picks something that isn’t Baby Shark.

Liying moves over to her pink couch, draping the children’s coats away to reach her purse before frowning deeply. “Your purse, you said?”

“Yes.” Using the coats as a pillow, she lays back on the couch, exhaling deeply as a sweet, tight-lipped smile appears on her face. “God, I’m about to pass out.”

“Don’t pass out on me.” Liying says, rummaging through her purse. “Why do you have so much shit in your purse?”

“The girls put all their stuff inside. Some of them didn’t bring purses.”

“I’m sensing Shishi and Elena in that statement.”

“Shishi can’t wear a purse that doesn’t have Pokémon characters all over it,” She starts. “And Elena is too cool for a purse.”

“Got it.” Liying finishes, pressing her purse to her abdomen to keep looking for her candles before a soft hum leaves her lips. “I found two things.”

“Two?” Her eyes open at that moment, staring at the objects in between Liying’s fingers. One of them is the number four in the form of a candle, and the other is a crumpled piece of paper that seems to beg to be recycled. “What’s that piece of paper?”

“I don’t know, was inside your Louis.” Liying whispers, unfolding the paper as she speaks. “And no matter how much I love that you’re wearing Louis Vuitton, it’s not your thing. You don’t wear anything expensive.”

Cameras flash inside her head at that moment, the aftermath of having a picture taken of her and the flash still bleeds inside her eyelids. Liu Yangyang in the shape of a gift, that’s what that purse means. Given to her a week ago, and still clinging to her side like pure nature.

What? The purse is cute…

“I—This is going to be so funny but,” Time for the truth, she tells herself. “I went to a party last week, right? And I went out to get some air because it was too cramped inside, so a guy crashed his car and—” Liying raises her eyebrows then, never showing quite as much of her expressions as that moment. “And it was so stupid, so I promised not to tell anyone and he gave me a Louis Vuitton.”

“Good guy.” Liying shrugs her shoulders. “Got his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” Liying says, turning the paper around. “Because he asked you to meet up with him in this place three days ago and you hadn’t even realized that he had put that paper inside your purse.”

Grasping the paper in between her hands, the flutter of a butterfly goes up her sternum and rests on her trachea. The handwriting on the paper feels like him, somewhat rushed, always on the verge of doing something, and with one little smiley face at the end, he does ask to meet up with her at certain place, three days ago, with the time written and all.

“…That’s the funny thing.” Though, her laughter sounds as fake as it possibly can be. “We both felt like we had seen each other and, hah, turns out it’s Liu Yangyang, your ex.”

Had it been anyone else, they would have at least gasped, but heart of steal, soul of stone, mind of ice—or better known as Liying—, simply seemed to find it fitting. “Huh,” She says, looking down at the piece of paper. “A downgrade for you but an upgrade for him. I think he’s asking you out.”

She shakes her head at that. “No way. He’s being friendly.” She says, quirking her eyebrow in the process. “Why? Is it the whole breaking his heart thing going on or—?”

“No.” Liying replies, zipping the bag in the process. “Yangyang is obnoxious and used to love Cheetos way too much for anyone’s liking, but he’s a nice guy.” She rolls her eyes then. “If you can keep up with the whole…Yangyang-ness that comes with it, and you’re really thinking about it, or about him. Who am I to say no?”

Sitting up, she hooks her fingers around the paper, crumpling it up in the process. “…Not like it matters if I’m curious about him. The day just passed.”

“Go there again.” The woman starts moving towards the kitchen, eager to give the children some sweets to see if they will get sleepy in the process. Liying’s intelligence goes above NASA at times. “Yangyang does party a lot, and attend a lot of events, but it’s always in the same places. People go to Yangyang, Yangyang never goes to the people.”

“…Why’s that?”

Liying sighs. “He’s rich, babe.” Pushing the candle into the pink-coated cake, the cream sloshing around a bit in the process, Liying chuckles at her own words. “Everyone follows after you if you’re rich.”

“…I don’t want him to think I’m just looking for money, though.” But, why does she even care about it? She has a Louis Vuitton bag now—

“And you took the Louis in the process of not wanting to seem like an opportunist?”

“I took it because he ran away before I could give it back to him.”

“And you were unable to go after him because…?”

“I was tired.”

Liying puts one hand on her waist, the shirt she is wearing a little bit more see-through with the passage of years, sticking to her like glue. Liying’s emotional side lets her cling onto the most miniscule of things. “Sorry to break it to you, babe, but your mind played games on you and took the purse because you wanted to have a reason to see him again, or something to cling onto until you saw him again. Not to blame…he’s a charming guy. Younger, but that’s the charm.” She sighs in the process of her train of thought. “…If only I liked older guys, I wouldn’t even be here on the first place.”

“I’m not interested in Yangyang.” She replies, clapping her hands together as she calls for the children.

“I could be the greater friend and say you shouldn’t, because he’s a man-child, and he’ll possibly be more of a headache than a good thing but—” Liying joins her then, screaming for the children to gather, the sounds of toys being dropped to the floor and cheers coming from the masses of children making her curse internally. While she’s here, their other friends are by Liying’s room, playing games online— “You are curious about him, and the mom in me is telling me I have to let you live your life so…” Liying taps her fingers against the crumpled piece of paper in between her hands. “Go there on the same day this week, same time. See if he’s there.”

###

A recording studio is not where she imagined herself to be on a Thursday at two in the afternoon, but it’s where Yangyang had invited her to go last week. With its gray walls, harsh lights that make her cringe onto herself in case someone looks a little too close at her face, and the staff rushing from one place to the other, she feels both sad and thankful that she’s not part of this. One, she doesn’t have to be judged by anyone but two, that almost means she’s not known by anyone as an artist.

Much to her surprise, the security guard at the entrance—at least two heads taller than her—had let her in at the mention of her name, but lost as lost can be she is when inside the studio. Asking one of the staff would be much too embarrassing, for Yangyang had invited her there, but he wasn’t exactly expecting her. Besides, if he had invited her, it would look too ridiculous to ask for his whereabouts. A fan, she would look like a fucking fan.

But, Yangyang doesn’t seem like an actor—if he was, and with the amount of popularity he has, he would have had at least three paparazzi on his back when he crashed his car. One step forward and she almost stumbles against one of the light guys, apologizing profusely as she continues going forward without a North. Whatever it is that she is doing other than looking around, is not the closest thing to finding Yangyang.

Much to her surprise, in front of one of the many green screens in that endless studio is Yangyang, seated in what she would compare to a director’s chair, the lights on him only highlighting the aspects of his face that had not been there when she had met him at the party. His lips are rosier, a sheen of highlight on both his cheekbones to make them more prominent—though, the structure of his face sculpted by the Gods was—. A golden bomber jacket rests on his arms, one leg crossed over the other as he speaks into the air with certainty. Confident with his hair pushed to the side and a small smile playing on his lips.

“Honestly, I’m just here to have a good time.” He shrinks into himself the slightest, tucking his hands under his thighs before swinging his legs back and forth. “I don’t care what anyone says,” A quirk of his eyebrow comes after, laughter following his statement. “Why would any of the other guys judge me for partying and buying expensive stuff when they, like, they do the same thing? It’s just…I want to live my twenties before I just completely turn my life upside down.”

The director asks, far too quickly. “How are you going to do that?”

Yangyang thinks for a moment, but he doesn’t deflate, much like he doesn’t give an absolute answer. “…What everyone does, go to Hollywood.” Though, he laughs at himself, shaking his head at the same time that the director asks to cut, a group of stylists rushing to him to fix his hair just at the same time that he stands up.

Statements. A green screen. Extra good makeup.

Questions.

They’re asking him questions about him…

And he’s here each week…

Yangyang is part of a reality show.

What the fuck?

Crossing her arms, she leans back on the wall as she watches the staff gather around him, telling him about places to go to after this, shootings that they need to do, and each voice molds onto itself until they are imperceptible. The farthest he gets from the green screen, the more she comes into view—with far less makeup than him and a red leather jacket that is much too old to compare to his bomber jacket.

Whatever.

Yangyang stops on his tracks when he sees her, stopping his typing on his phone when he smiles widely, like a kid that had just gotten his preferred kiss. “Girls’ Generation!” Confusion bathes the faces of the staff around him, and it takes her a second to curse under her breath when he moves towards her. Next thing she does is tell him her name. “Oh, sorry, I don’t keep up with the newest members.”

The only member he seemed to know was Liying, after all. “But you sure do keep up with something, Kim Kardashian.” She says, jotting her chin towards the chair that has now been taken over by someone else. “I didn’t know you were part of a reality show.”

“My manager asked me to join. Something about publicity…and people investing more in my appearances if I do. Influencer stuff, I guess? Like, I don’t like to call myself an influencer because I can’t, like, even influence my cat but…you know.” Yangyang goes around his answer a few times, earning a chuckle from her at the same time he drops a joke. “And please, call me Kendall. Taller, ass less fat, and I can pride myself on my legs.”

One look at them promises her that he is not lying. Long, slim, definitely looking good in whatever kind of pants he wears. “I’ll have to watch your show later.”

“Please, don’t.” Mortified, Yangyang shakes his head. “It’s all scripted and for drama. I promise, that’s not really how I want you to see me.”

Instead, she licks her lips. “Well, I found a paper in my bag asking me to meet you up here so…” She trails her voice. “How do you want me to see you?”

The challenge must have excited Yangyang, who runs his fingers through his hair and she almost believes she saw one of the staff dying in the process. That, or she’s trying to find other reactions similar to hers, heart thumping against her chest. “Well, I have some unreleased movies in my mansion and I thought we could—”

A woman with glasses propped on her nose, very much over the age of sixty, shakes her head as she nears Yangyang. “You can’t do anything today.” She finishes for him, throwing a look towards her before swallowing thickly. Something tells her that this is his manager, because she doesn’t look like Yangyang at all, and because of her authority.

Each day she is more thankful of having Hao.

“Why?” Yangyang drags his voice in a whine, turning to his manager to talk to her. “I thought I had Thursdays all for myself.”

“You thought correctly, but not today.” The woman turns her tablet to bathe Yangyang’s face on its glow. “Someone contracted you for a photoshoot today and I need you to take your pretty face to your limo so we can get there on time and have your makeup redone.”

Well, fucking shit.

She came all the way here for nothing.

Yangyang glances at her in the matter of seconds, his hands coming forward to grasp hers in their hold. His fingers are cold, mannerisms not as quickened as his voice, with his fingers soft like silk against her skin. She could get used to it. “Sorry.” He mumbles, biting his lip after. “Want to give me your number so we can meet up some other time?”

“Okay.” She says, soon after Yangyang takes his phone out of his pocket, giving it to her after unlocking it.

“Do you need me to call a cab for you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll walk home—”

“No way.” Yangyang denies, eyes turning to his manager. “Can we wait five minutes and call a cab for her? I can’t leave her alone here.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to.” He says, taking his phone in between his hands again before pointing to a door on the left. “There are some really good crepes over there, want to eat something as my manager calls a cab for you?”

A dream man doesn’t exist, they just don’t. She knows this, has engraved it in her brain and heart with each disappointment that has met her in the shape of a lover. However, with Yangyang talking over bites of his food, films that she hasn’t even heard about going past his lips with ease, summary after summary all awfully explained, she can’t help but think that she can get used to it.

Get used to the fluttery feeling that follows her when he closes the door to her cab and waves to her until he’s out of sight.

###

To: Group-Chat.

I’m going to Yangyang’s place today.

The meteorite that splays in colors, leaving a black hole in its wake, comes in the shape of messages, both meaning to entice her to go into this damned date…and others simply for the sake of laughter.

From: Liying.

Ask for Alexander Wang’s newest collection.

From: Elena Wang.

He has money?

From: Liying.

Lots.

From: Yifei.

That’s it.

Girls.

We’re collectively asking for something so our babe can ask Yangyang to gift it to her.

And we do that each time they meet.

From: Elena Wang.

A ring.

From: Shishi.

The entire Dragon Ball collection.

From: Liying.

Clothes for children.

Preferably my daughter.

From: Bingbing.

Ladies, we all collectively suck.

We shouldn’t ruin her date like that.

(I say, as I lie through my teeth).

From: Angela.

We’re just joking, babe.

Go on that date!

If it didn’t work with Liying, it may work for you.

To: Group-Chat.

Thanks for making it awkward, Ange.

Important nights deserve bigger measures. An extra look in the mirror. Another movement of her hands to fix her hair and a blow of air that almost leaves her breathless, opening one more button of her shirt before hooking it again. She straightens her back, but with her heart thumping against her ribcage with more intensity at the action, she sighs. What is it about him? This man, whose life doesn’t fit hers at all, manages to make her curious. An itch. Thirst. Whatever this is, it palpitates with curiousness.

The mansion looks different in the daylight, but maybe she was a bit too tipsy when she had been here last. She smiles at the door, because why not practice for a while? Why not wait and ponder if this is another one of her bad decisions? Someone whose sunshine smile radiates on her eyes, blinds her, then takes her to a million trips towards the fields of heartbreak. He’ll know everything of her before she will even know what his favorite color is.

She had grown with only women in her life. No man in sight. Women gave out their empathy while men casted sympathy. Love is such a wicked game that it never gave her a moment to think better, to think about the words that had always been told to her:

Find a man who’d stop himself from kissing you if that meant hearing your voice.

But that never happens, so why is she here? Why does her finger come forward and press on the doorbell? Legs shaking, hands twirling against one another, she stops herself from running away when she hears Yangyang’s voice coming from the microphone at the entrance, telling her to hold up for a second.

She doesn’t need a man.

Then, why does she want one?

Why does she want him?

Diamonds have never been her thing, for the brightest thing she has seen is a smile. Convertibles can’t mean a thing when she can move in a cab and get the company of someone else while she writes some songs on the way home. Yangyang believes in the opposite of the world she has built for herself—the truest her, but that doesn’t seem to cross her head when he’s in front of her, in a white t-shirt and the air of a fucking nightmare.

Because falling for Yangyang is going to be a nightmare, much more when he calls her name as if it’s the melody of his favorite song that he had forgotten about in the twists of life, and when it comes up in the radio, he just knows about it. The lyrics, the tune, he appreciates it, loves it to bits for the three minutes and some seconds that it lasts.

Yangyang is three minutes and some seconds.

Yangyang is a nice feeling, nothing more, nothing less.

“You look pretty.” The glance-over he gives to her body is imperceptible, had it not been for his compliment, she would have never noticed that Yangyang spared one of the rushed seconds of his day by looking at her. “Wanna get inside?”

“It’s not like I came here to stand by the door.” She jokes around, making sure to smile just to avoid any misunderstandings. Yangyang closes the door behind them when she does get inside, one arm coming up to rest on her shoulder as he moves her forward.

“You know, I really thought you were, like, the sweet kind when I met you.”

“I am the sweet kind.” She wishes she could pay more attention to the living room around her, much more spacious when there are not hundreds of people scattered to make a place for themselves in this world of social rules. “You just…” Her words cut off when she looks at him, for his lips tell her—in silence, something she would never connect with Yangyang—that she’ll probably get in trouble with this one. “You don’t make it easy to be sweet to you.”

His lips move with such precision in her line of sight that she almost snaps out of it. Looking into his eyes would be less of a clear sign of her interest, but when he throws himself on top of his couch, legs sprawled like his arms to call out for her attention, she realizes something…

She’s really interested in Liu Yangyang.

“I’m going to earn it, I’m sure.” How in the world Liying called him insecure? She’s not sure. Instead, Yangyang leans his weight forward, taking a big bag of Doritos from the coffee table before opening it in one swift motion. A remote rests on his other hand, leaning back on the couch with the bag placed on his lap and his left arm extended for her to lay on it. “I have some films for us to watch…and I bought different snacks because I wasn’t sure which one you liked the most.”

“We can share.” She says, taking the spot beside him before slowly descending into the pits of Hell, letting her cheek rest on the side of his slim arm. “Do I get to pick what film to watch?”

Yangyang’s hand practically snatches eight pieces of Doritos to throw them inside his mouth, nodding in the process. “That was the initial plan.”

“Okay.” Taking the remote from his hands, she skims through the unreleased films he had talked about. “How do you even have these films?”

“My family owns a film production company. They all come from there.” Yangyang says as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, and she tries not to make a big deal out of it.

“Then, how did you end up in a reality show?”

“It’s a reality show to, well, like, show the lives of rich people and their children. I’m not always there, like, I’m not a regular.”

“Ah, I see…” She replies. “Does your family appear more regularly on the show?”

“What?” Yangyang asks incredulously, smiling.

“You said rich people and their children…”

“Yeah, but my family didn’t want to tag along.” His voice doesn’t become distant, fingers resting on her shoulder to play a bit with the fabric of her shirt. “Mom said if I was crazy for putting a portion of my life out there—for basically looking for the wrong kind of, like, of…” He looks up for a second, finding the right words. “Publicity, but I didn’t care at the time. I thought it was just going to be like recordings of my friends and I when we went out partying.”

“And what is it like?” She questions, cheek squished against his skin, movies momentarily forgotten for a moment, for her eyes are absolutely connected to this portion of him—the real behind the blinding smile.

“They give you a script and they make you sign a contract that says you have to, like, always be involved in drama, I want to say?” Yangyang chuckles in the process. “Basically, if I stayed quiet for too long, my manager would have to make me do something. Like, I don’t know, create a dating rumor or something…and that would have people talking for a while and boom,” He claps his hands together, right over her body, making her chuckle in the process. “We have a new season.” Though, the position makes him be a bit closer to her, enough for her to count his eyelashes, see the small blemishes on his delicate skin.

“Do you do that right now?”

“Nope, I stopped being a regular because of that.” Yangyang drags his voice, a groan coming soon after. “It was tiring. I’m just there for the fun…and for acting experience, I guess. It’s fun to see the drama go on when I’m not in the drama.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you do?” His back comes in contact with the couch once again, leaving her with the time to breathe in oxygen and not his pure cologne. Somehow, she misses it.

“I’m a singer.” Though, she corrects herself when Yangyang parts his lips in surprise. “Well, I am trying to be a singer—let’s just say I am unemployed as of now. I have a manager, just haven’t had my big break, that’s all.”

“You are not part of a record label?” Yangyang asks, only to have her shaking her head. “Well, I have some contacts. I think one of my cousins owns a record label, so I could call him up—”

“Yangyang, you haven’t even heard me sing.” She tells him…because Yangyang lives his life with a blindfold, stepping forward without seeing if there’s an abyss just two steps away. “Are you always like this with strangers? You can’t offer me opportunities like that—”

For the first time in a while, Yangyang stays silent—he never does, much less does he look like he’s deep in thought, as if there is a portion of him that questions the reason behind his smiles, his humongous parties, his social presence that seems to follow him everywhere he goes. “Isn’t it better to trust too much than not trust anyone at all?”

“No.” She says, fingers coming up to interlock with his on her shoulder. “Yangyang, you’re going to end up hurt. Not by me, I can reassure you that, but by someone else…”

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened.” Yangyang says, and the seriousness in his voice is masked by a cramped smile. “It, like, it doesn’t matter. I’m a savage. I have money. It doesn’t matter, really. I can get over anything.”

“…Yeah, but you should be careful about what you give out to people.”

“A record deal isn’t that big of a—”

“Yangyang, I have spent years trying to find a record deal, of course it’s difficult—”

“Then, let me help you.”

“No.” She adds. “The beauty of reaching your dream is knowing you went through Hell and back for it, and you never gave up.”

One hand rests over her head, moving her from side to side. “That’s such a big brain person saying. I don’t even know what, like, to tell you.” Laughter bubbles from her, staring at his brown eyes that twinkle under the sunlight that peaks through the windows. “Okay, I’ll let it be.”

“Okay. Thank you, anyways.”

“Anytime.” This time around, she does turn her attention back to the TV screen, humming a song to herself as she looks through the options. “Oh shit, I forgot the drinks.”

Yet, she’s too comfortable in his arms to really care about that at this moment. “We can go search for them after the movie.”

“Are you really going to have Doritos without some soda on the side?”

“…Yes. It’s the healthier option, actually.”

“It’s not the—” Yangyang cuts himself short, sighing deeply. “It’s not the funniest option, darling. Life is about having fun.”

“Are we really having this conversation over soda?”

“Yes.” Yangyang throws his head back, neck in full display for her to see when he calls out a name she doesn’t know: “Lai Fang!” Silence. “Lai Fang, can you get me some soda, please?”

It must be one of his workers, now that she thinks about it, but much to Yangyang’s surprise, more than one person get out of the kitchen. Each of them dressed to utmost perfection—all in black uniforms, but sporting something similar other than that…the luggage that they carry, some bags, some simply display their disappointment on their faces.

The woman in the front, with short hair and lively nature, lets the wrinkles on her face speak about her years of hard work when she lowers her voice the slightest. “Yangyang, I’m sorry to say that I am not going to be working here anymore. None of us are.”

Maybe, since this is a date, she had expected Yangyang to act remotely cool. However, his arm slips away from the back of her head as he stands up, rushing to whom she supposes is Lai Fang. “What? No, no, no, no, no.” He repeats, waving his hands in the air as panic overtakes him. “I’ve paid you all. My chefs, my cleaners, my valets, my guards. What? Why are you leaving?”

Lai Fang sighs deeply, taking Yangyang’s hands in between hers before rubbing soft circles on top of the skin. “Yang, your family asked for some time-out. We will no longer be working here for you because they want you to learn how to fend for yourself. Something about being too spoiled—”

“Guys!” Yangyang says, a smile on his face as he tries to mend things. She rests her chin on the backrest of the couch, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. His world is crumbling down at his feet at that mere moment. “Guys, we don’t have to tell them! I’m perfectly fine with doing my stuff, but you know how it is…nothing will ever be the same without all of you guys here!”

“We have to leave, Yangyang.” Lai Fang lets go of his hands, and what seems to be tears gather at her eyes as she pulls away from him.

“No, Lai Fang! You can’t leave—!” Almost like a kid watching his mother go to work in the morning as he stayed home on a Saturday, Yangyang tries to rush for the entrance door, stopping anyone from leaving. Had it not been for one of the other workers winning over him in speed and opening the door, no one would have been able to leave. “What am I going to do now?”

“Be a normal young adult and live your own life.” Lai Fang says, rubbing her eyes before waving her hand at Yangyang one last time. “You can always text me if you need help, but this is the last day I’m working for you, Yangyang.”

“But—” His words are cut off with the staff leaving one by one, not hearing his pleas when the door closes in front of him before he could say anything else.

Silence fills the air. Seconds in which his eyes seem to be trained to that door, as if he just had a nightmare and he’ll wake up at any second. The screen still blinks and calls for their attention, so she does what would be best in that moment—

“Let’s watch a movie and calm down for a second, okay?”

Yangyang cuts himself out of whatever trance he had put himself in, clearing his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll go look for the soda.”

“Sure. I’ll wait for you here.”

The sound of pans clashing against each other, plates clanking obnoxiously and Yangyang cursing under his breath continuously tells her that this won’t be easy for him. Liu Yangyang has been left to be a normal adult for once, and he can’t quite fit in into the role. What a curse.

###

With soup sloshing around the container that she holds in between her hands, she doesn’t know how to ring Yangyang’s doorbell. She could scream, of course, but she doubts he will hear her from the depths of his mansion. Not that there are a lot of people there to start with, considering that all his staff left only days ago, but with how saddened he has been about the loneliness in his own home, she can imagine he’s buried deep in his bed, earphones taking him to a whole new world where he doesn’t actually have to prepare lunch.

Her foot must do.

She brings her foot up until it graces the doorbell, but it falls down before she could ring it. Fuck. She repeats the action and digs the tip of her Converse shoes into the doorbell, creating a prolonged sound that should call out for Yangyang’s attention. In the far distance, she hears an unintelligible scream that she connects to his presence, followed by the sprinting that she knows he always does when going through his house.

Out of the many things she has done for someone she is interested in—cursive in interested, there’s nothing more there—, making them the healing soup she had perfected from an online recipe and bringing it to them wasn’t an option. Sure, maybe she just feels a tad guilty for what happened to Yangyang, it wasn’t his fault to live in a world of fantasies and for him to be dropped into reality in the blink of an eye. That doesn’t happen to a lot of people.

But, why is she helping him?

The door opens to welcome the sight of Yangyang looking like the most beautiful mess she has ever met. For the first time in her life, she believes it when people say the best of attractions come when you’re attracted to everything, including their imperfections. His brown hair stays a mess on his head, sticking around in several portions. Eyebags cover his usually taut skin, and for utmost reference of what he is doing, his hands are bathed in soap. His shirt—once white, she can realize that much—now sprawls bits of pink in the weirdest of places, the only thing seemingly put together the gray sweatpants on his nice legs.

“Help.” Yangyang breathes out at that moment, not quite realizing that his hands are very soapy when he comes forward to wrap her up in a hug. Yangyang’s dramatic on his actions, she believes, and his parents may want to start pondering on adding him to one of their movies by the way he lifts her off her feet the slightest to hug her, bending her back a bit to be able to push his weight forward, hide his face on her hair and let out the longest sigh she has heard. “I’m trying to do laundry and all my clothes are now pink.”

…She’s helping him because of this.

The hand that is not only onto the container rests on his back, fingers threading over the fabric of his shirt to rub against his scapula. “Oh, baby, that’s no good…”

“I’ve been doing laundry for an entire night and now all my Alexander Wang collection is gone.”

Oh, shit.

One of her friends had mentioned the Alexander Wang collection…and she doesn’t know how much it is worth, but it’s one hell of a lot.

“Yang, have you had anything to eat?”

“Cheetos count?”

She pulls away to look into his eyes, running her free hand over his locks to pat them in place, though his hands don’t let go of her waist and her eyes can’t get enough of this sight of his face that she had not seen. The pout, the helplessness, the beauty of wanting to try to be normal. “Cheetos don’t count.” She mumbles, lifting the container up to his face. “I brought you some soup. My special healing soup.”

With nimble fingers, he grasps onto the plastic container, eyes widening momentarily before he babbles out: “A—And you’re helping me learn how to do laundry?”

“How about this?” She makes herself at home when she goes past him, taking off her jacket and swathing it on the hanger at the corner. “I’ll teach you how to be a normal person. Laundry. How to use a stove. All of the like.”

Yangyang closes the door behind him, his fingers now coming in contact with the little post-it note she had placed on top of the container, and she has to look away the moment he lowers his gaze to read it in a mumble.

“You can do it, Yang.” He reads out, before a sweet giggle leaves his lips. “Okay, let’s learn how to be a normal person.”

###

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up.” Even when saying that, Yangyang’s actions don’t falter the slightest bit, squatting in front of her guitar case to open it as she prepares her electric guitar for a street performance. “You have to do this every time you run out of money?”

He doesn’t understand it, and she can’t bring herself to be mad at him, looking around in case anyone has heard the mere obvious. She still owes her landlord one month of rent and in light of not having any café or bar performances coming soon, she has to search for a way to reunite the money to be able to pay her rent. Crossing the guitar over her chest and making sure the guitar amplifier is well connected, she hums at what he says.

The city bustles on its wake this afternoon, people going from side to side, the lake behind her surrounded by tourists and people who want to have their sweet picnics. Much to their delight, she’s going to sing today…and that may be against what they would have imagined their afternoon to go like.

“Yep.” She pops the word out, lowering the volume and practicing some of her minor chords. “Yangyang, being an artist is difficult and maybe, I’m just really not that talented, and that’s why—”

Yangyang moves his hands from side to side in front of her, movements erratic and somewhat dramatic, the sleeves of his designer sweater floating around his hands comically. “We’re not saying that. You’re talented. That’s something I have already established.”

“You haven’t even heard me play or sing anything.”

This is all he needs, a challenge or a dare, something that makes him sit in front of her guitar case, dropping a few bills into it that may be a little bit too much, his whole attention trained towards her—weeks of knowing him and still, she can’t see an imperfection in him that doesn’t make her heart beat rapidly, either in annoyance or because she’s flattered by this whole new world that she has met with him. “Okay, play something.” Yangyang says, bringing his knees up his chest, his chin squishing itself against the bony surface before nodding softly. “I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.”

She has played the guitar too many times, sang even more, when sober or when drunken, when in a party or when alone, but somehow, this feels different. His eyes on hers, studying her but never judging her, listening and truly understanding the words that escape her lips when she sings, watching her with so much intent that she feels nervousness for the first time. Her eyes close, trying to lose herself in the feeling of being there—of being supported, because Liu Yangyang oddly feels like her first fan, and she’s not quite against it.

When she opens her eyes, minutes later to start another song, she’s surprised not to see Yangyang. Not that he is too far away, blending into the groups of people as he calls them over, pointing at her widely in a way that has her laughing a bit at herself in between the words she is singing. Yangyang sprints from one place to the other, capturing people as he says:

“Do yourselves a favor and listen to her!”

It’s at that moment that she realizes there is really something more than interest, but what would be closer to love at first sight. There, with him, she can’t imagine having no one else by her side. There, with him, she wondered how in the world destiny had connected the two of them. Not a bad match, but definitely an unexpected one.

###

There’s a reason why human contact is so beautiful, and it is because the brain has the possibility of remembering far more than what we intend. Homely, it feels like, when Yangyang enters the convenience store after parking the cheapest of his convertibles outside, and decides to slot his fingers in between hers. Slim fingers, nails that come in contact with the outside of her hand, his rings scalding in coldness against her skin. There are diamonds in there, ones that left imprints each time he held her hand, but now she can’t get enough of them.

She wouldn’t say Yangyang is perfect—he isn’t. Spoiled, he seems to be, somewhat lost in his own world of seeing the good in everyone. For him, spending as much as he does is enjoying life, but he’s learning. A good listener, a copycat of what he hears and deems right, Yangyang now comes into a new phase of his life.

With her free hand, a kiss resting on her cheek in the process, she takes a cart out of its confines. Yangyang fixes the cap on his head as if not to bother her when he goes for another kiss to her cheek, the fabric of his white sweater—no longer making his clothes turn pink, thankfully—rubs against her forearm when she speaks up. “Now, Yangyang, how much should we normally spend in groceries?”

The man thinks for a moment, walking forward with her as she goes to the first hall. “I don’t know, like, seven hundred bucks?”

She turns to him with her eyebrows very raised, lips parted before breathing out the deepest of: “No. Yangyang, what the fuck? You live alone, I’m sure you can get to spend much less than that.”

“Sorry.” Yangyang speaks, laughter overtaking his body, his shoulders shaking in the process. “I spend like a thousand at minimum every time I buy something.”

This is the part of her that, sometimes, feels like Yangyang and her will never fit into the same sentence. Too different of lives can only create a mess when colliding together. A beautiful mess, she likes to call it. Losing him is not something she is thinking about as of now. “No, Yangyang, we’re not—We’re not doing that.”

“Okay, so what must I do?” Yangyang asks, and she takes this moment to dip her hand into her own pocket, taking her phone out, unlocking it and giving it to him.

“We’re going to use our trusting friend, a calculator, and try to stop ourselves from overspending.” She speaks softly, listening to the faint sound of what seems to be jazz music in the background. “And by us, I mean you.”

“In my defense, I always ‘almost failed’ math class in high school.” Yangyang replies and, as always, he makes her laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! I was a great student in, like, language class and stuff.”

Something about the smiles they both share makes her feel perfect—it shouldn’t, never has she felt quite like this, and somehow, she can’t bring herself to pull away when his lips come forward and rest on her forehead. Not that he has gotten anywhere remotely close to her lips, though, practically prolonging the stress of not knowing where they stand. Friends. Friends that like each other. Fire and water coming together. Something.

It’s comfortable, but no one knows exactly what it is.

###

The shivering feeling that comes after a sip of lemonade, sugar to the tongue, on a hot day of summer is the best feeling in this world. It reminds her of excitement—to reply to someone’s text on the early stages of dating, to get on stage for the first time after hearing a round of applause, all in one simplistic taste. Not even the laughter that surrounds her living room as her friends gather around could make her feel as great.

Her head lays on Bingbing’s lap, the fabric of the red dress Yangyang had bought for her relishing against her skin when she turns to her side, listening to the story Elena is telling through sips of her wine, the glasses ones that she hadn’t ever gotten out of her shelves but now co-exist in the hands of her friends. Life is good, for one second, she doesn’t have to think about the unknowingness of her existence in a world that is much too big.

Though, someone knocks at her door, enough to interrupt Elena as she presses her mouth in a thin line. “Who could it be? We haven’t ordered anything yet.” Elena says, and Bingbing takes the time to extend her hands after she gets off, pulling her dress down the slightest to cover more of her thighs and go over to the door.

“We should. I’m craving pizza like crazy.” Bingbing instructs, but she doesn’t pay much attention to what the woman is saying. Instead, she pulls a sweater up and down her body, covering the neckline of her dress before getting the door. Fingers threading on the doorknob, she opens it without really checking who it is, and if someone had told her this would be a sight for her to see months ago, she would’ve laughed straight at their faces.

A starry-looking button down covers his chest, but his legs are in display thanks to his ripped jeans, yet the dark color scheme is changed for something much brighter when his lips part in a smile and he points at the cardboard he has hanging from his neck thanks to some thick thread.

In red letters, much too bright, clearly in his handwriting, Yangyang has written ‘Kissing Booth’ and one dollar by its side. “Hi!” Yangyang greets, making everyone in the living room shush themselves to listen to what they’re saying—he may not see them, but all her friends had noticed him. “So, since you don’t let me help you economically and, like, you said you would only accept money that you’ve earned…I’m doing a kissing both. One dollar and I give a kiss out. So, you know, I can give you some money.”

She has to frown at his logic, or maybe, it’s the idea of Yangyang kissing anyone but her that makes the lemonade glass on her hands almost fall. “Yang, what are you even talking about?”

“All profits from the kissing booth will go directly to your bank account for your rent.” He indicates, moving his feet back and forth before looking up. “…I haven’t had any clients, though—”

“You are not having any clients.” She conquers.

“Why?”

“I’m not letting you kiss anyone.” The moment those words leave her lips, she can hear Liying snickering in the far distance, too soft for it to be heard by anyone, much more when Shishi splays her hand on top of her mouth to keep her from making any noise. “…For me. I’m not letting you kiss anyone for me.”

“Why?” Yangyang asks, leaning his weight against the doorframe before quirking an eyebrow. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“…Ah…” She clears her throat, not noticing just how close he is until she feels that damned, obnoxiously ugly cardboard sign bump against her chest. “What if I am?”

Taking his wallet out of his pocket, Yangyang gets out a lot more bills than necessary, putting them on her hand before shrugging. “You shouldn’t. Someone just paid you around a hundred kisses from the kissing booth guy. I don’t know the source, though.”

With her heart thumping like crazy, she watches as Yangyang takes her by the waist, hands fisting the fabric of her sweater before his lips descended upon hers. Fervor bleeds through his kisses, wanting and needing more of her, overtaking any rational thoughts as he makes all the worries dissipate. Her hands have a mind of their own as they thread through his hair, never getting enough of him—enough of the fantasies he likes to live just to spice up her reality.

When he pulls away, he gives a step forward, ready to take her inside until she breathes out quickly: “Yang, all my friends are here.”

“What?” The poor guy says, roses blooming on his cheeks when he turns to the left, watching the group of women raise their hands in the air.

“Surprise!” They all greet in a way that has Yangyang hiding his face on the crook of her neck, bringing a smile to her face.

She could get used to this. Not for three seconds, but for much longer.

#yangyang scenarios #yangyang #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #how to lose someone in seven steps?

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

I Hope That Something Better Comes Along

Today is the third day of HWOL!!! I chose Hurt/Comfort as the prompt! This story is cross posted on my ao3 at ej_writer if ya wanna check it out over there!!!

Word Count: 3,463

Rating: T

Warnings: Repeated Mentions of Domestic Violence + Gun Violence (there is no fighting or anything on screen but the aftermath, both physical and psychological is described explicitly)

The roaring engine of a Camaro z28 the next street over, the sound of keys jingling outside the front door, the stairs creaking under the weight of booted footfalls; Steve knows Billy finally made it.

He’d been expecting him for the last three and a half hours. They were going to go into the city just to find something to do, anything at all to be together and far away from here.

Clearly those plans had changed, but only because Steve knew not to wait up for Billy. If at all possible, he was always the most punctual person. If Steve said be there quarter to five, the doorbell would ring the very second the clock struck 4:45. So once the hands ticked well past midnight, he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

It’s for that same reason that, when Billy pushes open the door to his bedroom, announcing his presence with a quiet, rough little “S’me Stevie.” barely audible even in the silence of the night, he already knows something bad has happened.

Laying on his side, his back is to Billy’s side of the bed. Steve waits for the other boy to get settled, to kick off his shoes and let himself fall back onto the bed, slowly letting out a shaky sigh before he asks, “What happened, B?”

“Forgot I was s’posed to take Max to some school thing today.” Billy’s voice sounds worn out and scratchy and so, so tired.

“Is it bad?” He tries not to sound upset, he knows it only makes Billy feel worse, but he hates this routine more than anything, his boyfriend showing up at any hour of the night all worse for wear.

The worst part is probably how unaffected by it Billy pretends to be. “Haven’t checked.”

A long stretch of silence sits heavy in the room before Steve has the courage to ask, “Can I see you?”

The blankets rustle behind him as Billy, propping himself up on one elbow, reaches over top of Steve to the nightstand. Steve shifts so he’s on his back, and they’re face to face in the pitch darkness.

With a click of the little golden chain, the room is illuminated with a soft yellow glow, enough that they can see each other clearly. It’s a ghastly sight that Steve is met with.

Billy, poor Billy, with dried blood smeared on his chin, in his browline, on his knuckles, bruises and cuts littering his pretty face, turning it swollen and pale. He lets his hand fall from the lamp to rest against Steve’s cheek, his thumb rubbing circles on the smooth skin there.

Being able to see the damage takes Steve’s breath away. He whispers out, “Oh, Billy.”

But Billy can’t look Steve in the eye, his gaze focusing instead on the little hairs at the back of Steve’s neck fanning out across the pillow, on the moles that litter his face and neck, pretty much anywhere that he can to avoid the sympathetic look he’ll find in his eyes.

Because he’s already so weak, with tears already wetting his eyes, he just knows he’ll break if he does.

Steve wraps his arms up around the back of Billy’s neck, tangling his hands in his long hair, and says again, the shocked state his mind is in leaving it unable to come up with any other intelligent thought, “Oh, Billy.”

It’s the tremor in Steve’s quiet voice, the genuine, gentle concern that he finds there that does him in.

Billy sobs dry in his throat before any tears spill over, and lets his arms give out from under him so he’s laying on top of Steve, who wraps his own arms around him that much tighter.

Steve tries to comfort him, presses kisses to the top of his head and whispers little reassurances, “You’re alright baby. I got ya.“ but this is bad, the kind of breakdown that only happens when Billy’s scared, inconsolable.

“He’s g-gonna kill me.” Billy whispers into Steve’s neck.

Steve tries to comfort him, choosing his words carefully to not make him more upset. “No he's not, baby. M’not gonna let that happen.”

“He is. He s-said-“ His words trail off into a whine and a sob in his throat.

And Steve doesn’t like to ask Billy questions when he’s upset, but he can sometimes shut down for so long that it’s necessary to help him. “What’d he say B?”

“Gonna-Gonna replace me.”

“He won’t do that, sweetheart. He just wants to scare you.” Steve like to rationalize when Billy’s like this, prove to him that Neil said these things with specific intent to get him upset.

But Billy isn’t having it, shakes his head and explains, his voice breaking with the effort of stifling his tears. “No. He-he had a gun.”

And that just, takes the air right out of Steve’s lungs. It’s never been that bad before, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

Because what he wants to do is panic, to call the goddamned cops on Neil Hargrove and get his ass put away forever, but for Billy, shaking and crying on top of him, that’s the very last thing he needs to do right now.

He tries to assure him, “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you here,” but Billy’s not listening, his head is somewhere else.

Steve recognizes that place as being in the beginning stages of a panic attack.

They’d dealt with quite a few of those, mostly on nights when something bad like this happened. He thinks he’s pretty in tune with what he’s supposed to do by now, but after they happen Billy’s always downplaying them, pretending like nothings wrong so Steve will stop feeling sorry for him.

“Hey, Bills, are you with me?” Billy’s a crier, so sometimes it’s not a panic attack, and he’ll be okay with just a little bit of TLC.

All he gets in response is a muffled whine against his chest, and that’s how he knows now isn’t one of those times.

Billy can’t speak when he’s panicking, sometimes he still can’t for hours after it’s over either, and that’s usually how Steve can tell if he needs to put a little more careful effort into helping him.

“Okay B, can you sit up for me?” It was better for him not to lay down, he’d told him that his ribs felt like they were cracking with the effort of him trying to catch his breath if he was on his back, so Steve always tried to get him sitting up.

But when he started to panic like this, Billy would basically shut down entirely, stop doing much of anything on his own and become dead weight.

Steve had to do all the work getting him off of him and sitting up against the headboard, and for a second, Billy panics in his hold. Thrashes against the arms holding him up to try to get away from his touch.

Steve lets go of him in a heartbeat, backing up to let Billy sit himself the rest of the way up.

He holds his hands up and apologizes, makes himself as unthreatening as possible. “I’m sorry, Billy, it’s just me. It’s just Steve. You’re okay.”

Billy looks at him and nods as a little acknowledgment, but his eyes go out of focus, and Steve notices him taking too shallow breaths, his cheeks flushing with the effort. “Can you breathe?”

Another shake of his head, followed by a broken off sob.

“Okay, look at me Billy, you’re alright, just gotta breathe for me baby.” He gets a hand behind his back, waiting to see if the touch is okay before rubbing circles as he tells him what to do to keep the panic from getting worse.

“In for five, out for five.” It’s real shaky, barely works to get any air into his lungs, but Billy tries, does it through the tears, choking on the deep breath in just a little. “Good. Again.”

It’s not as deep as it should be, and the breath out gets interrupted by another sob, but it’s working at least a little in the sense that the number of breaths he’s trying to take has slowed down significantly.

“That's it. You’re doing so good, Bills. One more time for me, alright?”

Still not perfect, but he’s not struggling for air anymore, so Steve’ll take what he can get. He lets him stop, because doing the breathing exercises too many times has been known to send Billy into a deeper spiral of thinking he forgot how to breathe and starting the attack all over.

“There, you got it.” He moves the hand he had on Billy’s back up to rest at the base of his neck, still using his fingers to draw comforting circles into his skin.“You did such a good job baby.”

Billy ignores the praise, lets his head fall back against the headboard and closes his eyes. He reaches for Steve’s other hand, grasping it tight as he can when the other boy laces their fingers together.

The tears are finally slowing to a stop, so Steve thinks it’s safe to move on to the next step. “We gotta get you cleaned up. Are you gonna be okay for me to do that?”

“Yeah.” Billy says without moving, his voice all scratchy and weak from sobbing, but Steve’s proud of him for even saying anything.

When Steve lets go of his hand and gets up, Billy goes to do the same, moving down the pillows so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed, but there’s no way Steve is going to make him walk down the steps to the first aid kid after that.

He puts his hand on Billy’s chest to keep him from getting up. “Uh-uh, you’re staying right here. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Don’t need you babyin’ me.” But he doesn’t make any more moves to stand up, just looks down at Steve’s carpet with a look of something like shame on his face.

“I’m taking care of you. It’s different.” He bends down and kisses Billy’s forehead, runs his hand down the back of his hair once. “Stay put, I’ll be right back.”

He hurries down to the kitchen where his mother keeps the band aid kit under the sink, grabbing on his way a couple of wet washcloths, a glass of water with ice cubes from the fridge, and a bottle of Benadryl.

When he gets back to his room, Billy’s where he left him, but he’s got one of Steve’s pillows clutched to his chest and his face buried in it.

Steve announces himself with a knock on the door frame and a “Hey.” so he doesn’t scare Billy, the other boy looking up at him for just a second before letting his gaze fall again.

He sets all of his stuff on the nightstand and grabs his desk chair, wheeling it around to the bed. One of the washcloths goes on the back of Billy’s neck to keep him alert, a trick Steve learned as a squeamish child from his grandma, and he makes him take a Benadryl before he’ll touch him.

“Please tell me if I hurt you.” He says, and waits for Billy to nod his response before he scoots the desk chair closer, so his knees are between Billy’s legs while he tends to the damage.

His face is the worst of it by far, getting worse by the minute with time for the bruises to settle. Steve’s first order of business is wipe all the blood off and figure out how bad it was underneath.

It’s not the worst he’s seen it by far, but there’s at least a dozen little scratches all over from Neil’s rings, a good portion of them deep enough to need bandaids, and bruises on his jaw and his cheekbone and his temple, already deep and dark.

Most of the blood seems to have been Neil’s, from breaking the skin on his knuckles open again and again as he hit his son.

But Steve notices there’s a few bruises and a split on one of Billy’s own knuckles, and the picture starts to come together.

If he had to guess, he’d say Billy had probably fought back. That he was getting his face beat in and threw a punch to defend himself, and Neil got so pissed off at the threat to his authority that he resorted to drastic measures to get his son back in line.

He sighs and takes Billy’s hand in his own, dragging the damp cloth across it to get the blood, before it could start to stain his skin, off. When he it pulls away the skins all irritated, and Steve brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss there where it was split.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Billy, and Steve feels his fingers twitch as he fights the urge to pull away from the tenderness.

When he turns the chair to the nightstand to get another butterfly bandage for his knuckles, Billy blurts out, “I love you.”

Steve, admittedly a little taken aback smiles at him, it’s the first time Billy’s ever said it. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~

It doesn’t take long for the medicine in Billy’s system to kick in, and he’s out like a light, snoring heavily like nothing even happened. Steve finds the opposite to be true for him.

He’s too busy worrying about literally everything to be able to sleep. He just doesn’t know, what is he even supposed to do?

The cops aren’t an option, the Hawkins police were less than useless when it came to domestic violence. Steve remembers hearing that Joyce Byers called the police on her husband, and they insisted she was hysterical and over-dramatizing the situation until she ended up in the hospital, and he fleeing the city.

Tommy Hagan’s dad had called 911 on his wife once, and the cops never even showed up to check it out, said they’d file a report and hung up on him. Poor Tommy still had scars from the outburst that could’ve been prevented if anyone had done anything.

For that reason alone, Steve knows he can’t call down to the station with his concerns about Neil. If word got back to the old prick that he’d been snitched on and no arrest was made, he was sure the safety would go off, and Billy’d be just another example, another warning against getting help.

So Steve tries and tries to think of any way he might be able to do something, and there’s only one in particular that stands out in his mind’s eye: to move away. To load their shit in the back of Billy’s car because he had the title, and ditch this sorry town to go far, far away from all their troubles and out of control father.

How exactly he was going to convince him they had to leave though, Steve had no clue. He already knows Billy would say no, emphasized with a resounding fuck you Steve Harrington, because he would have to leave his sister behind, most of his stuff too unless they could sneak back into his house and smuggle it out somehow, and he’d never agree to that.

Leaving had been brought up a few times before, the first being towards the beginning of when they started dating, and they were figuring out each other's boundaries about the future. Billy had made it explicitly clear from the start then that he wasn’t stepping foot off of Hawkins soil unless his sister was coming with him.

Steve knew Billy’d probably take the bullet on purpose if it meant Max was safe, and he couldn’t do that if he had fucked off somewhere to hide from his problems.

But Steve isn’t letting him go back there, he’s made up his mind on that. They’ve gone through far too many rounds of this, this awful fucking game where he’s never sure if Billy will come back to him, or if the next time he’ll see him is in a body bag, and he just won’t do it again.

Because really, how many more turns did they have before the little red button wasn’t clicked in when he pulled the trigger?

He’s tired too of giving in to Billy begging him to go back there every time something like this happened. To check on Max he said, even though they both knew it was deeper than that.

Not that Billy ever told a soul this, but Steve could tell it wasn’t just for Max, in part, it was for her mother too, he felt like he deserved to take the beatings instead of his step-mom and sister. But more than anything, it was because of Neil.

The abuse wasn’t purely physical, and, though Billy pretended like he was too tough to let it get to him, his dad had been in his head for years. Everything he thought had to go through a filter of, would Neil approve of this? Was he going to get his ass kicked if he did this, or was he going to get praised if he did this instead?

After so many years of doing that, it’s completely automatic now. Every single thing he did pandered to what his dad was okay with, what would get him the slightest bit of anything other than hostility from his dad.

And it’s apparent in all of him, the cigarettes he smoked, the car he drove, the way he talked, and got in fights, all of it was just to impress his dad, to meet his expectations for what kind of son he should have.

It’s for the same reasons that he can’t just drop everything and leave. Neil was always droning on about the importance of family, the whole, ‘I may not like you sometimes, but I’ll always love you thing’ and it really got in Billy’s head.

He didn’t think he could leave, no matter how much he wanted to. He thought that bullshit bond of family, whatever the hell that even meant, kept him tied down.

It’s a horrible cycle for Steve to witness, the young son desperate for a fathers approval even after years of torture by his hand, bending over backwards to do everything right and still getting treated the way he did.

He wishes taking him away would solve everything so he could just be safe. He wishes he could get Billy to realize he didn’t have to be a good son for a monster of a father. He wishes they could just be happy.

At some point in the night, Billy, still completely out of it from the antihistamines and not caring at all about personal space, rolls over so his back was to Steve’s chest.

The contact brings Steve back down to earth, as he blinks his bleary eyes, all tired from just staring up at the ceiling instead of sleeping. He squints at the clock on the far wall and realizes he’s spent the last hour doomsday prepping, working himself up over a conversation that he didn’t even know how it would turn out.

Who knows, maybe this time Billy would accept the offer, would happily agree to let Steve take him as far away from the flying of fists and the lies slipping past beer rotted teeth and the press of cool metal against skin as the Camaro would let him.

He runs his fingers through Billy’s hair splayed out across his chest and let’s a long sigh out through his nose. It was funny how it was Billy who could look so peaceful while Steve was fretting over him, but maybe that wasn’t really funny at all, that he was so used to this that he could still relax without all the fears that were keeping the boy beside him awake.

That’s the thought that comforts Steve as he drifts off to sleep, the idea that, if Billy could do it, could face the uncertainty every time he walked back through his own front door, and deal with the pain on every level from what his father did to him, then he could too.

He would bring it up with Billy in the morning, tell him what he’d been thinking about, and he wouldn’t be a pushover this time.

No more reluctantly agreeing to let him go back just to deal with the heartbreaking fallout a few hours later, and no more biting his tongue while Billy pretended he could do it on his own.

Steve was going to save Billy, whether he liked it or not.

#harringrove week of love #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #this idea has been floating around in my brain and I thought this was a good time to share it #there will most likely be a continuation for this I just didn’t want this getting too long for the event

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rae-arts777 · 3 years

Note

Platonic headcanon for abigail and makoto please?

Platonic Abby X Makoto

They have a routine. Get coffee and talk shit about Laurent.

They wingman each other.

They share clothes so much, they’ve forgotten what clothes belong to who.

Abby got him to wear a dress, she hypes him up to make him feel more confident.

Makoto doesn’t need to hype Abby up cause she’s already confident, but he does it still. She secretly enjoys it but won’t admit it.

Makoto learned Abby’s native language, so they can talk to each other without anyone else knowing what they’re saying. Sometimes they would be having a normal conversation, but give Cythina and Laurent dirty looks, like if they were talking about them. Cythina and Laurent hate it when they do that.

Abby has a collection of stuff animals only Makoto knows about. He always gets her ones with pouting faces. When he goes to Abby’s place, they sit in a pile of stuff animals and watch movies.

Horror movies turn into comedy movies when they watch it together. They got kicked out of a theater cause they kept laughing during the movie.

They’re always throwing food into each other’s mouth. Across the room, across the couch. It’s usually like when one has some food and the other is “over here” and opens their mouth. Abby never misses, Makoto misses sometimes.

They watched Friends together. Abby got him a coffee cup that says “you’re the Rachel to my Monica”. Makoto loved it but said he was a Chandler. Abby disagrees “you’re a Rachel mixed with a Joey”

They go hiking together. Makoto tried rock climbing but let’s say that being dangled from the Hollywood sign ignited a fear of heights in him. He got stuck on a ledge crying and Abby had to coax him over.

Abby bullies him, but will murder anyone who dares tries to bully him. (She’s looking at you Laurent)

Abby taught him how to fight. They train about twice every month.

Abby out drinks him every time. Drinking nights always end with her having to take care of him. If she’s feeling nice, she’ll hold his hair back when he pukes. But sometimes she waits outside the bathroom and pats his back with a broom “there there”

Abby is bad when it comes to comforting him. If Makoto starts crying, she’ll just rub his back and listen to him go off.

The first time Makoto saw Abby cry, he freaked out. “Oh god you’re crying....uhhh...” he patted her head “there there? This feels wrong”

They don’t have to talk to have a conversation. They can make certain noises and give looks, immediately knowing what the other one means. Another way they talk in front of people without them knowing what they’re saying. Also greatly annoys Laurent and Cythina.

When they bicker, Abby always chooses violence.

Abby has him in her contacts as “Virgin 🌸”

Makoto has her in his contacts as “Angry Germlin 💀” (Abby beat him up when she found out)

Code name for Laurent “Boomer”, code name for Cythina “Bimbo”

In the Team Confidence group chat, Makoto and Abby sometimes blow it up with memes or tiktoks. It’s gotten to the point where there’s a seperate group chat without Makoto and Abby.

Speaking of TikTok, yes they make dancing TikToks when they’re very bored.

They’ve listen to Girls In Bikinis over a million times.

They get high together a lot. They’ll be sitting in one of their apartments, high, blasting chemical romance or Poppy. Also lots of pizza.

Best friend trip to Amsterdam. Neither of them remember half their trip considering they were either drunk or high.

Don’t call Makoto your best friend, Abby will deck you, he’s her best friend not yours.

Makoto is actually very protective over her. He has master the cold death state that cuts your soul, that makes your skin crawl. Even though he knows she can protect herself, he still wants to protect her.

Makoto is the only one who can pull her away from a fight. There have been times he’s had to rip her off of someone and throw her over his shoulder, or dragging her out of places.

They have matching best friend hoodies.

When Makoto moved back to Japan, he got them friendship lamps. Abby said it was stupid and cheesy. Abby will text him if he doesn’t change the lamp colour after a long time. “I changed it red this morning, you haven’t changed the colour or tap back. Are you ok?” (She really loves the lamps and gets mad if he doesn’t use it on his end)

Abby gets offended if he doesn’t message back or reply to something she sends. “I was sleeping bitch 💀” “I don’t care, you tell me that meme is funny or else”

Most of the time Makoto will hold her back she charges into a fight, but other times, he holds her things so she can fight.

If anyone wants to date Makoto, they have to get Abby’s approval.

If Makoto is going through something or is somewhere where he really needs another person, Abby will be there in under 10 seconds. “I’m sad” “open your door I’m here with McDonalds” “HUH?!”

Abby ended up moving to Japan and lives in the building Makoto lives in. She lives a floor under him (she still expects him to use the friendship lamps)

They both have copy of each other’s keys to each other’s places. So now they just walk into each other’s places whenever they want.

Makoto sometimes comes home and will find Abby’s shoes at the door. Maybe some of his food eaten. He find her on his bed on her phone. “How long have you been here?” “2 hours”

If Abby doesn’t want to get hit on, she’ll hold his hand. Makoto knows what it means so he goes along until they leave the area away from the guys hitting on her.

Sunday’s are brunch days. Makoto gets a robe on and will walk to her apartment with the champagne. Abby supplies the orange juice and kitchen. Makoto makes pancakes. And they’ll eat and watch reality TV.

On her periods Makoto takes care of her. He’ll go buy stuff for her, he keeps extra pads and tampons in his car for her just in case.

If they get into a fight, Abby always turns the friendship lamp white. When she’s calm down and ready to talk, she’ll turn it green. For Makoto, red means “I’m still not ready”, pink means “I’m ready”

Some nights, they’ll be laying on the floor staring at the ceiling. They high off of life and just talk all night. It’s just very nice and comforting for both of them.

Sometimes they’ll stick their heads out the window and scream at each other. Also throwing and tossing things to each other cause they’re too lazy to walk to the other’s apartment for something.

I have a lot more but I live for their friendship

#great pretender #makoto edamura #the great pretender #grepre #edamura makoto #abby jones #abigail jones #platonic Makoto x Abby #best friends #they’re best friends #I love them #Abby appreciates him but will never tell him #fluffy headcanon #headcanons

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whorefordean · 4 years

Text

daddy issues

JJ Maybank x Reader

tw: language, mentions of abuse, angsty

wc: 1.4k

requested: yes! (by anon)

based on daddy issues by the neighborhood (loosely) (also I do skip some lyrics and don't use the whole song)

I hope you enjoy bc I kinda like this one!

also thanks for 800 followers!!! <3

--------------------------------------------------------

Take you like a drug

I taste you on my tongue

You ask me what I'm thinking about

I'll tell you that I'm thinking about

Whatever you're thinking about

You and JJ were laying in an open field two hours away from the Cut on the mainland, staring at the night sky above you. You were babbling back and forth for a while, passing a blunt every so often.

“Where do you think we’ll be after all this?” JJ asked as he passed the blunt back to you after taking a hit. You accepted it with a shrug, inhaling while thinking of your answer.

“After we die?” You asked, confused. You and JJ already had this conversation, multiple times, actually.

“After highschool. After the obx,” JJ clarified. You shrugged again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever make it out,” You answered somberly, passing the blunt back to JJ.

“Why not?” JJ questioned, sitting up as he took the blunt back.

“Because my dad’s a jackass, and I think he’ll kill me if I try to leave,” you confessed, copying JJ’s movements and sitting up, as well.

JJ remained quiet for a while. You laid back down, looking at the stars for a while, thinking about what you had said. You knew you and JJ had similar problems with your fathers, but maybe it was too much for him. Maybe he hadn’t expected your blunt answer.

“What’s on your mind, J?” You finally spoke up when the silence from him became too loud.

“Whatever’s on yours,” JJ answered after a moment. It was your turn to remain quiet.

Tell me something that I’ll forget

But you might have to tell me again

It's crazy what you do for a friend

Go ahead and cry, little girl

Nobody does it like you do

“Let’s run away,” JJ spoke up after a moment.

“What?” You laugh. You looked over, only to be met with a serious-looking JJ.

“You heard me, Y/n,” JJ spoke firmly, shocking you.

“Ask me when you’re sober, JJ,” You scoffed. JJ continued staring at you, intensely.

“Tell me you’d do it. You’d run away if I asked you when I was sober,” JJ demanded.

“Fuck, J! Yeah, I would! I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. But it doesn’t matter because we’ll forget about this. We’ll go back to our shitty homes and forget!” You cried out. JJ simply nodded.

“But we could do it,” JJ whispered, scooting closer to you and draping his arm over your shoulder.

“We can’t, J. They’ll find us,” You replied weakly, trying to hold in your tears. Your eyes were burning, and you could feel your lip quiver. Don’t cry.

“You can cry, Y/n. I won’t judge,” JJ whispered gently. You nodded before burying your head into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso. You sobbed into JJ’s shoulder for a while as JJ simply rubbed your back reassuringly.

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I love that you got daddy issues

And I do too

“I know that you still care about him, and that’s okay. He’s your dad, Y/n. You just wanna see the best in him,” JJ stated. But why did you feel like shit for thinking he’d stop hurting you? He’s your dad. He’s supposed to love you. So why didn’t he?

“I just want him to care, J,” You sobbed.

“I know. I understand, babe. My old man’s hated me for as long as I can remember. I get it,” JJ answered. The night ended with you and JJ holding each other under the stars, grasping each other so tight for reassurance that your hands cramped and your bodies shook.

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I know that you got daddy issues

It had been a few weeks since you and JJ had the heart to heart under the stars. You were now sitting on the HMS Pogue with the others.

“Have you thought about it?” JJ asked quietly from his spot beside you on the boat. You turn to face him with furrowed brows.

“About what?” You laughed lightly. JJ stared at you in disbelief before answering.

“Running away,” JJ mumbled under his breath. You shook your head and watched as he slumped his tanned shoulders.

“I thought you were kidding, JJ,” You answered, running a hand through your hair with a sigh.

“I’d do anything to get you away from here. To get us away from here. We could get married and have a normal life,” JJ said seriously, grabbing your hand in his.

“You’d marry me?” You teased with a small smile.

“I’d run away and hide with you if you asked me to,” JJ smiled before kissing your forehead.

“Come on, love birds,” Pope teased as everyone started jumping into the water.

I keep on trying to let you go

Not even let you know

How I'm getting on

I didn't cry when you left at first

Maybe you should’ve taken him up on his offer. Maybe you should have packed a bag in the dead of the night and met him at the docks. Maybe if you had more sense you would’ve. But here you are, sitting on your bed with a bloody nose and black eye that your father gave you.

JJ left two weeks ago. He begged you to come with him, but he was right. You tried so hard to see the good in everyone. Even your father.

You hadn’t cried that night. When JJ left. You couldn’t when you knew he’d be okay. He’d be away from all the pain and anger his father inflicted on him. So you held it in. Until you didn’t.

You laid there staring at your ceiling for hours. You should’ve gone with JJ. It was stupid of you to stay, but you couldn’t just up and leave. Could you? JJ had, but he had it worse. You could handle the anger from your father a few times a week. It was fine. But you needed JJ.

So you went to find him. You packed a bag and left. You made your way to John B’s house in the dark. The walk was completely silent, aside from the slight buzz of the street lamps.

You tapped on the door. The loud knock making you cringe as you disrupted the quiet. You waited a few minutes until you heard footsteps inside.

“Where’d he go, John B?” You asked immediately when the door swung open. You waited impatiently as John B wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“He told me not to tell anyone, Y/n,” John B sighed, stepping aside to let you in. You obliged and crossed the threshold with your hands gripping your bag so hard your knuckles turned white.

“John B, tell me where the hell he is,” You demanded. You didn’t have time to mess around. You had to go.

“The mainland. Told me you’d know,” John B sighed. You looked at him, puzzled, for a few moments before jumping up from your spot on the couch.

“Thanks, JB,” you exclaimed, hugging him quickly before rushing out. John B stood in his living room confused for a minute. He turned to face the door when you rushed back in.

“Can you take me somewhere?”

You found yourself hugging John B goodbye one last time before jumping out of his van.

“Hey, Y/n,” John B called out. You stopped walking and turned around to face him.

“Look out for each other, okay?” John B called out with a soft smile. You nodded and smiled back.

“And, please, for the love of god, marry the kid. He’s been in love with you since, like, fifth grade,” John B joked making you laugh. You nodded and again and watched as John B pulled off.

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

You made your way to the same spot you were a few weeks ago. You felt your heart beat faster as you got closer. Your shoulders slumped, though, when you saw the field was completely empty. You could feel the tears building up and your chest started to ache. You wanted to scream out. Why didn’t you just go with him? You had shared trauma, for Pete’s sake! You were meant for each other! And you just let him walk away?

Well, apparently, fate felt the same way.

“Looking for something?” Someone called out from behind you, causing you to jump in shock. You spun around.

“Do you still wanna marry me?” You asked playfully through your tears.

“Always,” JJ smiled.

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taglist: @queenofthepouges @5am-cigarette @danicarosaline @jellyfishbeansontoast @allielozoya @aliensinmybrain

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anduplex · 4 years

Text

Planning Your Future

Summary: Fearing for Logan's future and uncomfortable with the decisions he's made, his parents have a talk with him that leave Logan doubting his relationship.

Pairing: LAMP/CALM

Warnings: Angst

Logan ran through his normal morning routine. He showered, brushed his teeth, combed his straight short brown hair and dressed in his signature style of a dark blue button up shirt and black pants. He grabbed his bag and pulled it over his head to rest at his side. As he left his room he closed the door behind it before making his way downstairs. He made his way to the front door and slipped on his brown oxford shoes. Just as he touched the door knob he heard a shuffling behind him.

"You're going out?" the older woman behind him asked. Logan turned around.

"I told you last night that I had a date this morning. I'll be back this afternoon." he replied fixing the position of his glasses. The woman looked worried and turned around to look at an older man sitting at the dining table.

"Logan, would you sit down for a moment? We need to have a bit of a talk?" She asked. Logan gave a small nod and followed her to the dining room. She sat next to the man while the Logan sat opposite of him. The man took the woman's hand and held it firmly.

"Son, we need to talk to you about your plans." he stated.

"Mother, Father, I've made it clear that I want to study two year of community college before I head off to university." Logan replied trying to relieve his worries.

"Look we know you say that." his father replied. "We just believe you're making a mistake and ask you to reconsider."

Logan looked back and forth between them. His mother was quietly looking at him hoping for him to agree. His father being unmoving and stern. "I've made up my mind about this. I'm positive I want to wait."

"Honey, we know why you changed your mind about going straight to university in the first place." his mother hesitantly spoke. "You're grades have lowered before you graduated, and you've seemed so distracted lately."

"If you are implying something, then you should just say it out right."

"We think you should stop your relationship." His father replied dryly.

"What?" Logan started to shake a little with anger. "When I came out to you, you both said you accepted me and were fine with my choice."

"That was before we saw how much of an impact it would take on your future and success."

"We're only looking out for you Logan. Please just think about this." His mother interjected. "What kind of future would you have anyway? How could you possibly make it work?"

"I don't know." Logan looked down. "But I'm sure..."

"You need to forget about these silly dreams. This little adventurous stage in your life needs to come to an end. Start focusing on the important things in life." his father lectured. "I've got the paper to reapply to Stanford and Harvard. I want you to finish filling them out before tomorrow. I want to start getting your stuff packed up to move soon."

Logan stood from you table and quickly walked to the door, slamming it as he left. He was so angry, how could they just expect him to end the only thing in his life that made his feel so happy. He didn't know what to do. His parents weren't wrong, his relationship was more than abnormal. He hadn't thought about what would happen in the future, how they would make it work. And what would he do after two years of community college. He'd been so lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that he was already at the coffee shop just standing inside the doorway. "Logan!"

Logan snapped out of his thoughts, turning his head to see a curly haired dirty-blond boy with glasses waving at him from a table in the corner next to the window. He was wearing a light blue sweater and beige pants. He had on the biggest smile and freckles covered his face perfectly. Logan's face changed to a smile as he walked over and took his seat.

"Here I got your drink. Black coffee, one sugar." the boy said putting a mug down in front of him.

"You know me too well Patton." Logan said taking a sip of the much to hot coffee. he immediately set it back down and cursed himself silently for the burns.

"Well of course! We've only been dating for 2 years now." Patton beamed handing Logan a napkin. "Speaking of which, it's unlike you to not be here half an hour early."

Logan wiped his mouth and set the napkin down. "My parents wanted to have a talk before I left today."

Patton looked confused, "What about?" he asked. Before Logan could reply, a boy threw himself into the seat next lo Patton and basically leaned all the way onto his lap.

"You will not believe the dream I had last night!" He exclaimed dramatically. This boy was wearing a red letterman jacket with gold and white accents, a white t-shirt underneath with light blue jeans and white sneakers. His wavy ginger hair falling in just the right way no matter the position. As he talked about his dream, throwing huge expressions and gestures, the previous conversation had been forgotten. Logan smiled at the two boys as they laughed.

"You guys are drawing way to much attention to the table." A boy dressed in a purple shirt, black and purple pattern hoodie, and black skinny jeans said walking up. Black make up around his eyes covered up by his straight dark brown hair. "It's a little early to be making a fuss Roman." he said taking a seat next to Logan.

The ginger waved his hand to dismiss the comment. "You just didn't get enough sleep, So you're grumpy Virgil."

The group immediately started talking between themselves, laughing and joking. Occasionally someone would get up to get new drinks. Through all of this Logan sat more quiet than normal, which did not go unnoticed by the other three boys. Logan was too busy thinking about what his parents had said. He'd been thinking about how to make this all play out to everyone's liking, but fell short with every idea. He thought of bringing it up to them, but that never went well. He tried looking into a future scenario to find out how living would be, but never got past the end of his community college years. His head was starting to hurt with all there hypothetical scenarios.

"Is that okay with you Logan?" Patton's voice broke through his thoughts and without thinking Logan nodded his head with a thoughtful hum. "Great let's go!"

Logan's eye snapped open, watching as the other's started grabbing their stuff and walking to the exit. He grabbed his bag and followed, not really sure what he agreed to but too embarrassed to admit he wasn't listening. What was he supposed to say 'I was too busy thinking about how my future would be without you'. That was not a possibility.

They walked for about fifteen minutes, it wasn't until they were there that Logan realized they were in front of his house. He panicked for a moment. "Wait... Why are we here?"

"You said we could come over." Virgil put his hand on Logan's shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Logan noticed that both cars were still in the drive way. His parents must have the day off today. "We should go somewhere else." He turned quick to leave.

"Logan-"

"Logan." Everyone stopped and turned to see Logan's father standing in the doorway. "Come here." Logan was momentarily frozen, but he regained himself and walked halfway across the yard. He stopped there and looked up at his father. "I thought I'd made it very clear what I expected of you."

"Father, please don't-"

"You're future is more important than this silly game you've been playing. You need to let it go now before you get even more involved." Logan's father was starting to raise his voice.

The other's took notice and stepped forward a little. "Sir, we're sorry to interrupt but I'm sure whatever you're talking about doesn't need to be yelling. I'm sure you can just calmly-" Patton tried being mature and spoke soothingly, but the older man wasn't listening.

"Look I think it's best if you all leave and not speak to Logan anymore." He snapped. Everyone was taken aback by this sudden demand. "He'll be heading off to a proper school and he doesn't need anymore distractions."

"Logan what does he mean? I thought we were going to school together." Patton asked, putting his hand on his shoulder. Logan was shaking. He was ashamed and angry and so full of sadness.

Logan's mother came out behind his father. "Come on honey, you need to fill out those applications and get your room packed up." She said holding out her hand to him with a half-hearted smile. Logan flinched and looked back at the other three before taking a step towards his parents.

"Logan wait!" Roman grabbed his hand and held onto it tight.

"I'm breaking up with you."

"What?" Virgil was now almost as close as Patton and Roman. But Logan never turned back around. "You can't be serious."

"We don't have a future together, I am leaving." he said. Roman let go and Logan paused for a moment longer. "Bye." He said as he walked past his father and was lead inside by his mother.

He didn't say anything as he took the applications off the table and walked upstairs, locking the door to his room. He made his way to the window and watched as Patton sobbed and cried. Virgil was crying silent tears, his eyes still huge with shock. And Roman was leading them both away from Logan's house. Even though he couldn't see Roman's face, he knew that Roman was also crying.

Logan turned away and sat at his desk, laying his head down. Silent tears fell, as Logan pushed everything off his desk. What was once an organized and clean room, soon became a wreck. Papers were everywhere. His close were off the hangers and thrown on the floor and his bed had been flipped over. He stared at his destroyed room, the torn and crumpled papers, the ribbons discarded on the floor, and amoungst it all he saw the applications left abandoned in front of his door when he entered. He clenched his fists and scowled, grabbing the papers by both ends to start tearing. He stopped, letting the papers fall to his side as he stared down at a paper he had ripped in half earlier. he picked up the pieces and held them together. He knew exactly what it was.

When they had first started going out, Logan made a schedule for their first date. Of course nothing went as planned. Of course it all turned out better somehow. He realized then that he didn't need a plan for everything, that they made him happier than any plan he'd ever had, they were everything he wanted and the only thing he needed. He grabbed his phone from his bag, seventeen missed called and fifty three messages.

Looking around he noticed unfolded boxes near the door, one of his suitcases sticking out of the closet, almost taunting him. But that's all he needs right, that was his answer. What would he be throwing away. The only home he's ever had? His chance at going to an amazing university? His possible future? And what would he gain. The three men he fell in love with...?

- - -

Patton's eyes were red and painful. He'd spent the night at Roman's with Virgil, even having his two boyfriends around, he still cried himself to sleep. It was no surprise, He was always the most loving and trusting, now he was hurting so much more than he ever had.

Virgil on the other hand hadn't spoken hardly at all since the event. It took a while for him to process. But after a long night of panic attacks, he seemed to finally accept it. After he'd finally come to terms with it, he did his best to come up with plans to avoid this heartbreak again.

Roman on the other hand took the night to comfort his boyfriend and come up with a plan to get Logan back. Of course he wasn't going to let this go, he was a romantic. He knew that Logan still had feelings for them. He knew that there had to be a way to get him back. Or at least get answers. That lead them to this point, walking down the sidewalk to Logan's house, while slow, still making progress.

"Roman there's no way his parents will let us talk to him." Patton pleaded trying not to let the tears start again.

"We can't just give up Patton, this obviously isn't Logan's choice." Roman took Patton's hand and gave it a kiss to comfort him. "At the very least we need some answers... I need some answers." he said the last part quietly, looking down at his feet. The group fell silent.

It was quickly broken by a women crying. "Please think about this!" Turning the corner, they saw Logan carrying a box out to a small packed moving truck. Logan's mother followed after him, grabbing his arm which Logan shrugged off. "Don't just leave like this, think about your future. Where are you even going to go?"

Logan turned and walked back to the front door, walking around his father to grab his set of suitcases. "For now I'll be staying with Janus until I can get my own apartment." he said, walking around her and placing his suitcase in the passenger seat.

"You can't just leave like this, you have responsibilities to yourself and your future." his father came up behind his mother. Logan closed the door and turned around.

"Whatever I choose to do in my future will be my choice. And I choose to be free." he walked to the back of the truck and closed the hatch. "I choose to be with the men I love."

With that his father took his mother by the hand and lead her back inside, closing the door. Logan stared at the closed door for a moment longer before exhaling and dropping his straightened stance. He heard steps coming toward him slowly causing him to look up.

"Logan..." Patton was there, standing right in front of him.

"Patton." Logan took a step forward. "Did you see-"

"We did." Roman responded before Logan finished. He was embarrassed to say the least.

"I- I can explain-" Before he could continue, both Patton and Roman rushed forward and enveloped him in a hug. They stopped and looked back to Virgil, standing frozen only a few feet away.

"What? You think I'm just going to forgive you? To cave and let you in so you can hurt me again?" He asked, he seemed less angry and more panicked than anything. Logan stepped forward wrapping his arms around Virgil and apologizing. Virgil couldn't take it, he cried his make-up running down his cheeks. "Don't do this again please!" Roman and Patton joined them, the four stay there holding each other.

"Never again."

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