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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 10 months

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Shades of Red

art in the cover by @ave661 and @shkretart !

chapter one | chapter two | ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you'll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won't. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

A/N: Hello girlies! This is the very first time I get the courage to actually post something I wrote. I've been reading y'all fics behind my screen for so much time now I figured I could start postingggg; so please be gentle with the feedbacks, but be also sincere ♥ also, English is not my first language and although I'm fluent, there might be a mistake or two along the way. Don't feel shy in pointing it out if you see any! Moreover, this will be a long ass one I'm pretty sure, but I might get myself some more courage to post my smut oneshots in some near future. Hope you enjoy! x

Chapter 1 - The Incident | 3.3k

There was ash in the air everywhere. That scenario didn’t frighten him – in fact, Ghost was absolutely sure that at that point in his life, almost nothing could fright him. He had seen much worse things before, he thought silently as he walked towards the building completely destroyed. There was debris everywhere – the building had not collapsed completely, but some parts did not survive the flames and now there seemed to be not even a little bit of life in that place. There were still small portions of flames spread through a few heaps of debris, a terrible smell of wood and burnt concrete; but nothing of that could be worse than the smells of dead, flattered human flesh that once or again invaded his nostrils.

His eyes rolled around in search of any record of life. In vain, he knew: there was no chance that any civilian had survived that. A cruel, dark bombing, a violent and destructive terrorist act. The only goal was to destroy any form of life that could inhabit there, and possibly it had been obtained without any further circumstances. When Price sent the radio search order to all members of the 141, he made it very clear that those efforts were in vain. They would find nothing. We lost today, he said. We could not foresee this, nor can we remedy it. It was a burden they had to cope with on a daily basis - the often inability to do something, to act, was a burden that a soldier should carry. It was part of the job.

Ghost pressed the point button in his ear. “Is anyone listening?” He asked, his eyes checking the entire perimeter of the building behind the skull mask that covered his face. “Have you found something, LT?” Soap answered, his voice hushed by the efforts. “No. I’m making an entrance, there’s nothing out here.” the lieutenant stated, kicking off a few remaining pieces of concrete from the front of his feet and laying the rifle in his hands. Ghost stood in front of the main entrance to the building – that place that should have looked like a reception at some point in the near past - and the movement of his boots against the ground caused the roof above his head to shake a little, and some ash particles fell onto his helmet. He observed the movement, standing still for a few seconds, only for warranty; he did not want to end up becoming one more of those burial victims.

When the concrete whisper finally stopped stirring his ears, he entered. The lamp of his helmet lit up, and he looked around. His eagle eyes did not lose an inch of that entire perimeter, his ears attentive as those of a bat. He was looking for a sign, whatever it was: a presence, a scream, voices, calls for help. Anything. Anyone.

All he could hear were the sounds of the structure of the building, apparently ready to give in. Ghost tried to enter one of the apartments; his boots sole hit the semi-destroyed grinded surface of the door, and he broke in. He looked around. An enormous smashed chandelier rested violently against the bloody body of a child.

Many people said Simon was the type of man to have no feelings anymore. That time, scars and trauma had taken from him all and every kind of humanity. He had become a soldier—one of the good, one of the invincible, but nothing aside from that. Nothing but a soldier.

Perhaps that sentence became so repetitive that at some point, he, himself began to believe it. His face remained motionless. The sound of the blood drops hanging on the floor filled his ears, and he snorted for a moment, pressing the point into his ear. “First floor, apartment 102,” he said, coordinating other operators to head to start collecting the bodies.

His eyes went up to the ceiling, facing the huge blunt in the structure that caused the luster to fall. Maybe the parents' bodies were still there somewhere to be found, he thought. But that wasn’t his job, and unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. He then traced his steps out of the apartment, looking around. As he kept going upstairs, the lantern lit up one hand or another thrown out of a pile of debris. Broken legs, the kinds of horrors that haunt the dreams of ordinary people.

As Price had said and as he imagined to be fact, there were no survivors. Even when he reached the last floor, without any hope that he would find any movement that were not spasms of lifeless bodies, he tried. He tried to find someone, to do his job with all the mastery he could. His voice echoed through the entire floor, looking for anyone who could answer, but as expected, there was no response.

All that was left was the subsoil, the garage. When he came down the lobby again and found a portion of the staff dragging out some bodies, placing them in black bags, one of the doctors caught his attention. “Lieutenant. Have you finished checking around? Nothing up there?” The man asked, pulling his glasses from the tip of his nose. Ghost is negative. “No, nothing,” he said bluntly.

The doctor seemed to bite his own jaw with some strength, in disappointment. He has baffled. “You don’t even have to check down there. If those above didn’t survive...” he said, giving on his shoulders. Ghost watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finally answering, “Focus on your work, doc. I’ll finish my own.” He said in a nod before starting to push with his crude hands the stones that covered the entrance to the stairs that led to the garage.

His steps echoed. Ghost walked through the parking lot, passed pillar by pillar, checked every car. There were bursting pipes releasing hot steam, a gas leak as well he could tell – and he didn’t want to be there to see what would happen if some kind of ignition occurred. He hastened his steps. He took a deep breath; he was about to press his point and give up, claiming that there were no survivors, but a stifling sound interrupted his action. He looked around, looking for the source of the heavy breath and the little grumbling of pain he heard. His eyebrows cracked almost instantly and he turned around himself, looking around. All his senses were activated at that moment – he began to walk through among the few cars there, following the sound he had heard and then, a hand hitting the air dropped debris to the side of what seemed to be a body. He approached cautiously, throwing the light from his helmet’s lantern in the direction of the sound, and to his surprise, although not perceptible, there was the only survivor of the bombing: you.

A small, female frame shrunk from a pile of debris. Your hair was covered in ashes, your face - the dirty cheeks with the blackness of the material, your arms painted in the scarlet of your blood flowing freely to the ground, glass blades attached painfully to your soft skin. There was a cut down from the top of your forehead until the beginning of your left eyebrow. The completely messy strands of your hair fell against your face, opaque, bright. The expression of fear on your eyes turned into pure terror the moment they met his own, those small cold orbs inside the mask. You instinctively tried to move away from him, push your body away from those debris, away from that huge and frightening man.

When you threw your body to the side, all you could feel was your back against the cold floor, your left leg refused to work. You felt nauseous, stupid, your head turned. Your mouth trembled in a failed attempt to say something, the silence already lasted for seconds enough for you to fear his frame standing ever so tall and quiet. “Please don’t hurt me.” You managed to say, your voice engulfed in a cry that refused to go out. It wasn’t as if it was going to work; if he was one of the terrorists who caused this incident and really wanted to hurt you, then you were at his mercy and there was little you could do about it.

Maybe, if you were in a better mental and physical condition, you’d be able to identify that the rifle in the hands of the man in front of yourself was of a military model. That all his gear pointed out that he was an operator, someone willing to help. Your mind could not process all the necessary information about him at the given moment, although.

“I will not hurt you, lass.” He explained, and for a moment you felt your chest swell in air and it was hard to contain the immense desire to cry. The heavy steps of the man were made against your small, wounded body. He lowered himself, letting the rifle rest next to him quietly. You gulped in dry, still nervous with your eyes raised to his, now a little closer to you. He wasn’t looking at you — he was looking down, seeming to assess how hurt you were. “I’ll tell you what’s happening now. Okay?” He asked, slowly and calmly, his cold eyes now facing your own, visualizing your soul behind the cover of this hurt shell of yours. You stumbled, and he continued. “I’ll take that away from you, and I need you to help me helping you. Alright? You will be well. I just need you to hold your leg and when I push it over, you roll. Understood?” The man asked, his firm and deep voice being the first source of human contact you had since the lightning caused you to wipe out unconscious hours before. You came in for confirmation.

Ghost nodded back and raised his fingers, counting to three. Contrary to what you might have imagined, he didn’t need to do much to lift the huge concrete block that blocked his left leg from moving — he even had some ease in doing so. He held the concrete above his body, his arms backed over you, he sat down. “Roll.” he commanded, and you obeyed as you could. You leaned her hands on the ground and gave a boost; one of your hands instinctively went to the wounded leg, in an attempt to warm up the pain now felt by finally having released it from the rubble. You couldn’t hold a moan of pain, but he was quickly stifled by the sound of concrete hitting the ground when Ghost let it fall back.

You mentally begged that you could endure that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and a certain despair arose through your throat, your mouth. The anguish of finally feeling the unpleasant smell of the environment, the nervousness of realizing that very possibly, few other people survived that disaster, it was overwhelming your already troubled mind.

Ghost didn’t lose a second in time; he finished positioning the rifle around his body and you felt his arms wrapping you by the waist and the folds of your knees, and he lifted it up with immense ease – it was as if you were featherweight. The gloves in his hands were rough against the sensitivity of your skin, but his touch was as cautious as possible. You could say without a doubt that this soldier of at least twice your height was doing his best not to hurt you any more than you’re already wounded.

“What is your name?” He finally asked, his rifle resting on his back, and you resting over his arms. He wasn’t looking at you – his eyes were fixed ahead, in the direction he was carrying you to, the exit. You answered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You can call me Ghost. I am a soldier, yes? We will take care of you.” He said in a clear tactical attempt to calm your nervousness down.

You sat down with your head. “Amelie Miller... Did you find her? My friend, she... did you find her?” You asked, your body trembled as you came to realize his eyes were now boring into yours.

He seemed to look for words that would not hurt you as much as the ones he had to say, but he for one, was not good with words or comforting.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, in a sigh. “there are no more survivors. You were the only one.”

~ x ~

Your head hurt. Everything hurt; body, arms. There was a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water still sealed in your hands. The look in your eyes was empty, blurred; there were a lot of people there. Many doctors, many operators - soldiers like Ghost. One of them wore a mohican, the other had thick eyebrows. The captain was talking to them in an isolated corner, the doctors were talking to each other about your condition, about what should be done from now on. There were agents from the British intelligence surrounding the site, and there were about hundreds of black bags stretched on the floor, closed. You still felt pain, although the healings now prevented blood from flowing freely through your forehead as before. The glass pieces had been removed from your arms, your face was clean now and even so, you never felt so dirty in your entire life.

Every time you dare to blink, you could swear that you would faint. Your hands were getting weaker, loosening around the bottle. The sudden sound of the bottle falling to the ground caught the attention of one of the men there – the captain. As far as you could realize, he called himself something Price.

“Miss.” He said, coming closer to you. Suddenly, there were eyes on you from every angle possible; all of the other soldiers turned to the ambulance where you were sitting now. You slowly raised your face to look back at Price, and he continued. “I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, this question is rhetorical. You need to be hydrated.” He was bowing down in front of you, taking the bottle he dropped and opening it, offering it to you. Your eyes checked at the bottle for a few seconds and your trembling hand finally grabbed it, drinking until the last drop you could - all at once. You could feel your throat burning, your skin seemed to be in living flesh. The appearance of your wounds was not as unpleasant as the feeling of having them, but you knew that all that would leave you some ugly scars.

You could not care about it now – in fact, couldn’t care about anything at all. Your mind was empty and you never felt so apathetic in such a distressful situation.

“What am I going to do now?” You asked, in a whisper, your eyes completely lost. “I—what am I going to do...?,” you repeated, and there was nothing but an absolute feeling of raw pain and loss in your voice right at that moment, for as much as you tried to hide it.

Price swelled his chest, and his lips compressed into a line. “You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ll take care of everything,” he assured. “The government has a great defense program for disasters like this, you won’t be without a roof,” he finished, trying to calm you down. You closed your eyes and shaken your head, but you did not respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; what could be done besides trusting that everything would go well? Trust that they would have a plan for you, a shelter, doctors, a chance of living after you were supposed to die in such a horrific way?

You didn’t even know if you wanted all that. Didn’t even knew if you wanted to be the only survivor. Surely not: at that time, you would rather have died among the other more than a hundred people who were now in black bags scattered on the floor in front of you. You felt so much - you felt gratitude for their work, for saving you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but to feel like a fraud for surviving while other died. Others that, somewhat, deserved more than you to live. There was so much in your mind now, but little that you could really synthesize and make sense of.

You drowned your face between your hands, unable to cry, but wanting so deeply to hide from them, from those men, from doctors, from the press, from everything. Wanting to be away from everything, wanting to be dead for once.

A little further away, Ghost observed you. His broad arms crossed, his posture relentlessly perfect as always. His eyes looked at your gestures, scanned your body —all those wounds, poor girl, he thought. Although he was sure there was no more of a heart in his chest, he felt comprehensive towards your emotions. The horrors you had lived in such a short space of time, the unbearable consequences that that meant for your poor mind. The trauma. The pain.

He could not help but think that he saw a bit of himself in you. Not a bit of Ghost – a little bit of Simon. A little bit of the little Simon who felt an immeasurable strain in his chest, a void that could not be filled.

When the doctors finally helped you to get up in the ambulance and sit on one of the available chairs, your face turned over your own shoulder and you found his eyes stuck to yours. It felt intimidating in some way; perhaps the way his confidence didn’t allow him to look away while you stared at him, or something in the way he seemed capable of reading right through you like a good book of his. He was a savior to you, and somehow it still seemed his persona was conflicting with the one of a savior. He was something else, perhaps still a benefactor, but somehow, a very dangerous man.

There was not a single feeling in his eyes, quite the opposite. There was pure coldness, and yours on the other hand carried some gratitude and ingratitude at the same time. You felt grateful that he had saved you, but at the same time, felt angry at him for not having let you die. You entered the ambulance, and your eyes continued to lock a gaze against his until the moment someone closed the car door from outside.

Ghost turned his eyes at last, and saw Price approaching.

“Fuck.” The captain whispered, laying his hands on his waist, looking at all the misfortune that the incident had caused to that place. “How many bodies?” He asked, looking at Simon with the corner of his eyes.

“A hundred and two so far.” Ghost answered quietly.

“And have you found the bodies of the sons of bitches who did this?” Price said with some disgust and hatred attached to his voice. Ghost assented positively, which made Price crack the dust almost instantly into a distressed expression.

“Motherfuckers.” He grunted, turning to the rest of the team. Soap, who had been remaining in silence for thorough all the search, dared to finally speak.

“We have a lot to report, hm?” He raised his eyebrows, and received a Price assent in response.

“To the headquarters." The captain ordered, making his way to the helicopter that awaited for them, and they left.

#simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod ghost

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porcelainseashore · 4 months

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Ghosts from the Past (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This fic takes place after Part 1 Teenage Headache Dreams so feel free to give that a read first. Note that I might get a little creative with RE lore and chapter updates could be longer than before, so please bear with me. Thank you to all those who gave feedback and followed me on this journey so far! 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: The Invitation

7 years.

7 years since you last saw him.

But he hasn’t stopped haunting you.

You were stumbling your way through the sweaty crowd in one of the nightclubs you usually patronized. The thumping electronic beats resounded in your ears, as throngs of people writhed and shook to the music, raising their open palmed hands towards the DJ, like they were praying to some demigod. The room was bathed in a swathe of dark red light, and you were parting it like a sea of blood.

Dark kohl liner accentuated your eyes and your lips were the color of bruised plum, smudged slightly due to the humidity of the place. Your body was slick with perspiration, glittering under the lights, and it was barely covered by pieces of lace and a leather harness. A random guy pulled up next to you, whispering lewd nothings in your ear as you shoved him aside nonchalantly.

You were drugged up, high out of your mind, but everyone else was anyway, so why did you even care? Something instinctual told you to get to the middle, no matter what. So here you were, pushing your way through unapologetically, like you were on some unspoken mission.

And there he was. In the center. Blonde hair, blue eyes, t-shirt and jeans, just like you remembered him, as if time had not passed at all. As if it was only yesterday.

He stared at you intensely, wearing a scowl on his face, unspeaking. You noticed how tired he looked, like he just wanted to end it right there and then. So tired.

Maybe it was like those indigenous myths you had read about in class when you were young. The saying was that if one faces death, death has no choice but to grant them a final dance. Were you now in the shoes of death, frozen to the spot, watching him so he could cross over to the other side? Except, he wasn’t dancing. He remained there, completely still, eyeing you emotionlessly.

“Leon…” you mouthed, as your voice was drowned out by the blaring sound system.

The next moment, he disappeared into thin air like a shadowed specter, a faded memory of what you once had.

Suddenly, everything around you erupted in flames, the bright light dazzling you and the scorching heat against your skin causing you to shrink away in fear. Your lungs felt like they were suffocating as you coughed vehemently due to the thick smoke that enveloped you. What the hell was all of this?

As you attempted to make a run for the exit, you noticed piles of bloodied-up bodies lying on the floor, surrounding you in a tight circle. Tripping over them, your eyes widened in shock as you began to recognize who they belonged to. There lay your parents, Leon’s parents, Kayla and the rest of the cheerleaders… the count went on as you frantically tried to shuffle yourself backwards, away from the source of terror, until you heard a deafening screech tearing through your eardrums.

BRRRNNGGG!!!

The sound of your alarm clock jolted you from your sleep. Hitting the ‘off’ button in response, you cursed out loud as your body shuddered uncontrollably. Your blanket and sheets were wet and clammy with puddles of your sweat. Trying to calm yourself, you took a quick gulp of water from the glass sitting on your bedside table and started to slow your breathing down.

Why were these dreams getting more and more frequent? You’d see Leon each time and then everything would turn to shit. There was just so much carnage and destruction back there, it nearly felt real.

You turned accusingly towards the framed photo of you and Leon back when you had posed together for your college graduation, still standing upright on your bedside table. Gripping it tightly till your knuckles were white, you opened one of the table drawers and chucked it inside, watching it clatter into the darkness as you shut the drawer back roughly.

Fuck, Leon! Why? You cried out internally, begging him to stop with the nightmares. Cradling your head in your hands, you broke out into sobs, whilst at the same time chiding yourself for not moving on from him all these years.

Bzzzt bzzzt. The burner phone on your desk interrupted your thoughts abruptly.

You sighed, picking yourself up from the bed and groggily trudging towards it. Flipping the phone open, you were greeted by yet another cryptic text from your handler.

The Chancery. Cocktail event. Tonight 7pm.

Right. Not like she would give you any more information on what this was about. As an informant, you were on a need-to-know basis and had to be happy with whatever scraps you got.

Your mind took a trip down memory lane of how you even landed in such a position in the first place. Ever since that fateful day where you decided to leave and never turn back, you used up whatever savings you had and ran all the way from the Midwest of America to the capital of Germany. There, you naturally fell into the arms of the renowned Silje Völker dance company, who had welcomed you so warmly you even forgot about her peculiar, icy demeanor back when she had scouted you from the dance showcase.

You thought moving to another country and making a new life there would help ease the pain of losing Leon, but you were wrong. Still, it couldn’t be worse than remaining in the place where the catastrophe happened and everything reminded you of him.

Then, about a year ago, some men in black suits handed you their card, reaching out with a proposition. Work for the US government as an informant. We need people like you, they said. There was something fishy going on with Silje, a wealthy, eccentric heiress, and artistic director of the dance company you were part of. She even owned the theater where your training and performances were conducted, and that venue was now under suspicion. As you had worked your way up to become one of her principal dancers, you were now in a prime position to gather the information they needed.

They were just so convincing. It reminded you of what Leon had said when he was younger. About wanting to protect the innocent and make a difference in the world. With that, you didn’t even think; you just said yes.

Yes. To honor the memory of the boy you loved. Yes. If only you could have just said that one word to him, and to whatever he wanted. Yes.

So now you sought to betray the woman whom you saw as your surrogate mother. Your mother who had helped you find your way in a foreign country, where you were all alone, afraid and distraught. The one who nurtured you into the woman you were standing here today - bold, cunning and adaptable. It felt like life was playing a cruel trick on you. One you could not win.

After rushing through your daily routine, you gathered your things, slipping off an elegant, black cocktail dress from your hanger and stuffing it into your day bag, before heading out to the theater where you normally spent your waking hours training.

You greeted Silje, or Frau Völker - as she preferred to be called by the other dancers, except you and a select few - on the way in. Silje was a tall and wiry lady, with an aristocratic air about her. She consistently wore her platinum white hair in a tight bun, which pulled tautly against the skin along her jawline. For as long as you’ve known her, she never once took off her pitch black sunglasses, whether outdoors or indoors. Her dull-colored clothes covered her arms and legs fully and expensive leather gloves lined her hands at all times. Despite her fragile figure, she commanded authority and projected an intimidating presence.

As you entered the dance studio, she stopped you, gesturing to the dress peeking out of your bag. “Going somewhere special tonight?”

Nothing could remain hidden from her astute gaze for long.

“Oh, just an international exchange at the embassy,” you lied through a perfect smile.

“How patriotic,” she crooned. You had gotten used to her dark humor and sarcasm by now, so you didn’t pay much attention to it as you shrugged in response.

“Well, enough chit-chat. We have a lot of work to do.” She clapped her hands twice to raise the awareness of the rest of the dance company. “Let’s go through the second part of the Rite, shall we?”

“You-” She pointed a bony finger in your direction. “Need to make those jumps lighter.”

You nodded, acknowledging her criticism that she dished out to you in front of everyone.

“Be in the air, not tied to the ground, my dear.”

As she flashed over a wide, toothy grin, for a split second you were sure that you saw razor sharp fangs emerging from them. However, they were gone the moment you looked back again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That evening, you exited out of Friedrichstraße station, one of the main shopping districts in central Berlin. The bustling streets were brightly lit against the darkening sky, as you darted in and out of the swarm of human traffic to get to the embassy. Your heels clacked along the pavement as you made a right, hurrying towards a closed off street, which was heavily fortified with barriers and fencing.

From afar, you could make out the five-storey, gabled building with beige stone slabs, and the American flag hanging over its front entrance. One of the guards checked in with you, jotting down some notes against your name on his clipboard as he ushered you indoors.

Dropping off your winter coat and day bag at the makeshift cloakroom, you slipped a couple of spare coins into the tip jar and headed up to the function room. Lively chatter and background music spilled out from its open doors into the corridor you were in.

You checked yourself anxiously in a reflective surface nearby to make any last minute adjustments. Since your handler hadn’t revealed much of why you had been requested, you wanted to make sure you looked the part and fit in, in case you needed to do some sweet talking with, what you might guess, the elite members of society.

Your hands were trembling ever so slightly as you smoothened out imaginary creases in your shimmery, black satin dress which clung snugly to your body, emphasizing your curves. It had a low, backless design that teased just the right amount of bare skin without raising a scandal. Despite that, you were still debating whether it was too little or too much. In fact, the length of the dress reached so close to the floor, it was a wonder you hadn’t had an accident while walking around in it yet. Maybe you should alter the hem of it in the near future.

The sound of the hallway clock chiming at 7 sharp disrupted your inner monologue, as you realized you should adhere to your punctuality. Making the final touches to your loose, tousled bun and swabbing your lips with a light layer of rouge stain, you finally broke away and entered the function room.

Drinks and canapés lined the long, white banquet tables to the side, while men in snazzy suits and women in fine threads gathered around in their cliques, conversing with each other. It felt like you had gone back in time and were thrown into some 70s gala party, where you didn’t know a single soul.

A waiter stopped in front of you carrying a tray of bubbly champagne in tall flute glasses. “Madame?” He offered you one from his delicate hand.

You nodded gratefully, taking it before situating yourself at a corner of the room, sipping your drink slowly. Glancing at your watch, you observed that 15 minutes had passed since the supposed meeting time of 7pm. Scanning the room proved fruitless as you didn’t find anything of note.

Where was your handler, Bergmann? What was this party for? You wondered.

At some point, you felt a shadow loom over you from your left shoulder, but you didn’t have a chance to react until it spoke.

“Talk about seeing a ghost from the past.”

Your ears perked up at the voice that you would recognize anywhere, except it sounded deeper and gruffer this time.

No, it couldn’t be…

Alarm bells started to ring in your head, as you tried to convince yourself that this was one of your nightmares again. Maybe you had fallen asleep on the U-Bahn and now you were lucid dreaming.

You pinched your arm, not daring to look in the direction of the source of the voice. This was just a dream.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna help.”

Or not.

Your breath hitched as you turned sharply to your left, coming face-to-face with a pair of electric blue eyes set in a hollow stare, the dark circles under them giving away his fatigue. His chiseled face was marred by a cut he was nursing on his bottom lip, and his mop of blonde hair was almost like how you remembered it, but longer at the bangs and lighter in color as if it had been bleached in the sun. He was also suited up, black this time, but you could tell he had grown bulkier and more muscular underneath.

How was this possible? What was going on?

You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the scene in front of you, as everything around the room began to spin and your vision blurred. There was the sound of a glass breaking, and the last thing you were conscious of was a strong set of arms wrapping around you, followed by a yell, “Give her some air!”

Then darkness came to claim you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

There was something wet on your face and what felt like a cold breeze, causing a shiver to run through your spine. Then, you sensed a light tapping against your cheek.

“Hey, hey. Wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you were met again with those vivid blue eyes. As you came to, you realized that you were out on one of the balconies, your head propped up by his suit jacket while you lay on the ground.

He held out a glass of water in his hand. “Here.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows until you came into a sitting position, before taking it from him gingerly. Your body was still shaking as you drank from the glass and at this, he took his jacket and placed it over your shoulders to cover you.

“Thanks,” you managed weakly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, while carefully helping you to your feet.

There was a moment of silence as both of you eyed each other without a word. However, it seemed as if he wasn’t surprised to see you, which was weird.

“Leon,” you stuttered. “How-”

The balcony door slid open.

“Ah, there you are!” A young man with a communication earpiece, whom you assumed was one of the staff members, called out.

He glanced between the two of you knowingly. “I see you’ve gotten acquainted.”

“Bergmann will see you now.” He signaled towards the elevators past the crowd.

Leon gave him a quick nod. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered in your ear as you followed the man leading you towards the top floor of the building.

Passing by an unassuming door on the fifth level, he rapped it thrice and you heard the distinct tone of Bergmann informing you to come in. He pushed the door and held it open for both of you before he left.

A woman in her late 40s with curly, auburn ringlets and donning a light gray pantsuit greeted you and Leon.

“Kirsten Bergmann,” she introduced herself while shaking Leon’s hand.

“Leon Kennedy.”

“Of course,” she smirked. “USSTRATCOM’s golden boy.”

You were confused, but started to piece together bits of the conversation. Leon had been alive and working for the government this whole time?

“So you’ve met my informant.” Bergmann motioned at you. “She seems to have a flair for making a spectacle of herself recently.” She frowned disapprovingly, referring to the incident that happened earlier that evening.

You bowed your head in embarrassment, but Leon appeared completely indifferent.

“Anyway, Hunnigan will be joining us on comms shortly.”

With that, she turned to one of the screens in the room which had been switched on and was showing a connecting symbol. A few seconds later, a bespectacled lady with her hair neatly tied back appeared on it.

“Hunnigan here. Shall we get to it?”

Bergmann took the lead on the discussion.

“My informant will be an invaluable asset to Agent Kennedy’s mission. She has nestled herself deep within the target company and gained the trust of Ms Silje Völker, who has started to, on her own accord, disclose further information in confidentiality to my informant. All the intel has been fed back to HQ.”

Pressing a button, Bergmann brought up a blueprint map of the theater on another screen, except this had additional markings on it in your own handwriting.

“As you can see, exploration of the target site has shown multiple hidden passageways, false doors and even additional depths absent in the original plans. A copy of this has already been forwarded to all of you.”

This time, Bergmann turned to face you, folding her arms as she continued.

“In addition, my informant has secured various key connections that will prove the validity of our findings and help Agent Kennedy gain a foothold on getting access into the target site easily.”

“We are certain this is the base of operations,” she added, almost triumphantly.

“And I shouldn’t have to remind you how this case needs to be handled with the utmost discretion,” she warned, gazing strictly at Leon and Hunnigan.

“We have to ensure that US-German relations remain solid and the last thing we want is for this thing to blow up in the public. Much less in the capital.”

“Understood,” came Hunnigan’s unwavering reply. “I’m sure Leon will be able to manage that.”

“Perfect,” Bergmann replied, looking rather satisfied with herself. “My informant will work closely with you on this. There are sights to see, people to meet, and she will accompany you-”

“With all due respect, I don’t need a babysitter.” Leon suddenly piped up from the middle of the room.

You watched in astonishment, your jaw falling ajar, as he insulted you in front of your colleagues. His harsh words stung you inside. It seemed as if he hated you, and wanted nothing to do with you. But why?

“I am more than capable of finishing this myself,” he continued firmly.

Bergmann’s brows furrowed and her nostrils flared, as she looked at Leon like she was about to reprimand a child. “I assure you, she-”

“Take her off the case,” he demanded.

“Agent Kennedy!” Bergmann raised her voice. “That’s not your decision to make.”

From the intercoms, Hunnigan concurred, “I’m sorry, Leon. It’s been endorsed by the higher ups.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” He smacked his hand on a nearby table in defeat.

A tiny smile appeared on Bergmann’s face and you knew she had a trick up her sleeve. “Besides, Agent, how good is your German?”

He glared at her pointedly. “Good enough.”

She laughed mockingly and proceeded to speak with him in German, using a mixture of complex and colloquial sentences, which you noted that Leon was having a fair amount of difficulty processing. Then she turned to you, indicating that you should answer, and you complied with her order obediently.

“She’s fluent, even passable as a native.” Bergmann remarked smugly. “You, on the other hand, won’t last a day with that grasp of the language.”

Leon didn’t respond, but instead resorted to shooting daggers at her.

“Well, now that part’s over and done with, let’s move on to the logistics.” Bergmann stated simply, as if the previous altercation had never occurred.

She pushed forward, briefing you and Leon on the capacity in which you two should work together, how to approach comms, backstories and the like, including the next steps required in the task ahead.

At the end, she requested you to step outside and wait for Leon on the ground floor, as she relayed further details to him that you were not privy to. You had grown accustomed to this sort of treatment, even if you didn’t like secrets being withheld from you. So you waited patiently on one of those stiff, high-back wooden chairs in the lobby, for the man you thought had been a ghost all this while to find you.

How did he survive? Why didn’t he say anything? Was he still upset about the past? Is that why he had treated you with such venom at the meeting? You had a million questions running through your head. Nothing made sense. Maybe the only reason why you weren’t having a mental breakdown at the moment was because you knew you had a job to do.

“Something on your mind?”

You whipped around, startled by the unexpected intrusion. It was Leon, regarding you with curiosity despite the constant scowl on his face.

You sighed, catching your breath and lowering your hands that had been clutched at your chest. “Wanna start talking?”

“Not here,” he replied. “Somewhere less open.” He glanced around before adding, “More rowdy.”

You nodded, understanding that he wanted a place without prying ears. “There’s a grimy bar that’s always packed to the brim in Neukölln. No one will give a shit there.”

He scoffed. “Sounds like my type of bar.”

Pointing at his attire, you commented, “You gotta get out of that suit though. Not unless you want to attract some attention.”

He leaned against the wall, allowing his bangs to fall over his eyes as he folded his arms and smirked at you. “Suits me.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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allmoshnobrain · 2 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 03 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 4,7k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, pov change

✦ a/n: New chapter's here! First of all, I might not be able to update the next part on Monday. I'm halfway through writing it, but my days have been crazy busy, so it might take me a bit longer to wrap it up. But I swear, as soon as it's ready, I'll get it posted! This chapter is really special to me because we're diving into Dave's POV; I put a lot of heart into capturing his feelings just right, so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is welcome, thanks for reading! 🖤

✧ In terms of love, sunflowers symbolize pure and steadfast love, like Clytie who constantly gazed at Apollo. Therefore, giving someone a sunflower means telling them: “my love for you will be constant, and unchanged, like how the sunflower always faces the sun”. ✧

February 20, 1992

I sighed nervously, wringing my hands as I paced back and forth in my home's living room. After getting back in touch with Dave, we’d decided to meet up and have a chat about everything — the past, the present, and maybe the future. I didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance in my life, unsure how it might shake up all the delicate balance I'd been trying to maintain lately. I’d left a message on James' voicemail the day before, filling him in on our reunion and our plans to catch up. Figured James should hear it straight from me, especially since he was the one who helped me hunt down Dave back in the day, spending months on end trying to track him down.

Now, though, it wasn't James occupying my thoughts, but Dave. I studied myself in the mirror; decked out in a cute dress, my cheeks flushed, my eyes gleaming with anticipation like they hadn't in ages. I'd even indulged in a touch of red lipstick, which now seemed a bit too much as I battled my nerves. Did I really care that much about whether he found me pretty?

I felt kind of silly, to be honest. But deep down, I knew I wanted to see him. I wanted to hear his voice again. Our call the day before had been brief, just a few hesitant words passing between us before I realized that talking on the phone wasn't cutting it. I needed to see him face-to-face, even if it was just to put a final chapter on our story once and for all.

I couldn't help but gasp with surprise when the doorbell chimed, my heart leaping into overdrive as a blush crept up my cheeks. Rushing to the door, I swung it open, my smile widening as I met Dave's gaze, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He didn't even seem real, a vision straight out of a dream, his ginger hair catching the sunlight, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. It was everything I’d ever wanted, seeing him again like this, as if all my dreams were being handed to me on a silver platter.

"You’re here," I murmured dumbly, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

"Hey. Of course I am," he said, handing me the bouquet of sunflowers. I blushed as I accepted them, a delighted grin stubbornly forming on my lips. "These are for you."

"Oh, thanks, Dave," I replied, trying to contain the urge to throw myself into his arms right then and there. It seemed Dave was grappling with a similar hesitation; he reached out, lifting my chin, his thumb tracing my cheek. I sighed, feeling my heart kick up a notch. "So... you wanna come in?"

We stepped into my place; Dave plopped down on one of the couches in the living room while I scurried off to find a vase for the flowers. I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and found one, filling it with water in a hurry. Carrying it back to the living room, I set it on a small table near the window. Turning back to Dave, I caught his calm smile, feeling the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air between us.

"I... Yeah," I murmured, then sighed, trying to calm myself. "Dave... Last time we were together... The day you ended things with me..." I hesitated, seeing a storm of sadness and hurt stirring in his eyes, but he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, urging me to continue. "That day... it was a mess. Most of it was my fault, but... I swear, Dave, I didn't cheat on you with James. I..." I struggled to keep going, feeling the weight of old wounds reopening, tears threatening to spill over and choking my voice. "Please," I finally choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, believe me. I can explain everything, I..."

I couldn’t keep talking; suddenly, the doorbell rang. I jumped, glancing nervously at Dave as the sound repeated.

"You should get that," Dave said, offering me a faint smile, though tension still lingered in the air. I nodded anxiously, making my way to the door.

I swung the door open, and there stood James.

"James?" I blinked, tension gripping my body. "What are you..."

"I got your voicemail. Where is he?" he growled, seizing me by the shoulders and shoving me aside before I could answer. Oh no, I thought, trailing after him into the house. He marched in with long, heavy strides, heading straight for the living room where he found Dave, who rose to his feet at the sight of him, a tempest brewing in his hazel eyes. "You!" James bellowed. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"James, chill!" I clutched his arm, meeting his eyes with a mix of exasperation and pleading. "We're just having a conversation. I told you we agreed to talk!"

"So now you have to report every move to him?" Dave shot back, his brow furrowing at me.

"Take a look in the mirror, man. Like you weren't a control freak when you two were together. You think I don't know you guys fought every time Nore wanted to see us?" James snapped, and Dave's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I ain't here to chat with you, Hetfield. It's best if you bounce," he growled, his tone carrying a hint of threat. I glanced between James and Dave, my pulse quickening. Oh no, not this again.

James chuckled, dripping with sarcasm.

"Ain't here to chat with you either, Mustaine. But you've got some serious nerve rolling up here after all the crap you pulled. You don't get to waltz back into her life like nothing happened. Like you didn't hurt her."

I gawked at James, my eyes widening in surprise. So, that's why he'd shown up? To defend me? All along, I figured if I crossed paths with Dave again, he'd be stoked for me, b ut clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Funny," Dave shot back, a wry smirk curling his lips. "Real funny, coming from you. Like you and Lars didn't pull the shit you did on me. Like you weren't trying to steal her from me from the start. You reckon I didn't catch the way you looked at her?"

"Well, in the end, I came out on top, didn't I?" James edged closer, his tone dripping with venomous irony. "I got the band, and I got the girl. What about you?"

"James, knock it off!" I interjected, and both of them swung their gazes towards me, as if just remembering I was there. "Did you forget Dave's here 'cause I invited him? I wanted to sort things out with him, alright? Lay off him!"

James arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback and a bit peeved by my response. I held his gaze, my cheeks flushing under Dave's watchful eyes, but I refused to break eye contact with James, a silent exchange playing out between us. He eventually rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

"Ugh," I grumbled, frustrated, trailing after him. "James, come on!"

"What the fuck, Nore!" he exclaimed, wheeling around, and I instinctively took a step back. "What the fuck were you thinking, inviting this guy over?"

"I already told you I needed to talk to him! James, he deserves to know the truth. It's not right for him to keep believing I did him dirty like that..."

"That was ages ago. Why's it such a big deal now?"

"Of course it's a big deal! And what you and the guys did, booting him out of the band, matters too. You should at least say you're sorry..."

"Here you go again, sticking up for him like he didn't fuck up," James growled, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me! All these years, I've done nothing but love and protect you. He fucking left you! He left you high and dry, then went around bad-mouthing you to everyone without even considering your feelings, without even giving you a chance to explain. Did you ever think that you could've set things straight ages ago if he'd stopped to listen? You shouldn't even give him the time of day, Nore."

"James, we were kids ," I said, my voice quieter now , trying to bring some calm to the heated moment, trying to make him understand. "I messed up plenty too. You cheated on your girlfriend to be with me. We're no saints here, okay?"

"Well, if you think this guy is here to just patch things up and be buddies afterwards, you're dead wrong, alright? Dead wrong, and you know it. Bet he's still sore about losing you, because if he's not over getting booted from the band, would he really be over that?"

"And why does that even matter? This isn't about him moving on from me or not, it's about us making things right..."

"Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit about making things right with him."

"And that's the fucking problem!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "There was a time when you'd get why this means so much to me. There was a time when you'd want me to do what makes me happy! So either you were bullshitting me or you've changed so much that you just don't give a damn anymore. Honestly, I don't know which is worse."

James stared at me for a moment, hurt and shock in his gaze, the same old hurt that always resurfaced between us — the hurt of not being able to understand each other anymore. He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips as he closed his eyes.

"What happened between us and him is in the past," he growled. "I don't need to keep going over that, and I sure as hell don't owe him an apology. If you feel like you do... Don't come crying to me when he screws you over again."

"James..." I started, reaching out to grab his hand, but it was too late. He shook his head, pulling away, and stormed off, hopping into his car and slamming the door shut before speeding off. I watched him leave, my heart pounding as tears welled up in my eyes, wondering if I'd ever find a way to make things right with both Dave and James without causing even more hurt along the way.

☆

I've never been one to let things slide easily.

Holding onto grudges was kind of my thing. In a world that had kicked me and spat on my face since day one, anger had been my go-to move, sword and shield rolled into one, keeping me safe from the emptiness that always lurked.

Sometimes I'd been pretty good at channeling that anger into something productive, but other times? Well, let's just say it was a rocky ride. It was like walking a tightrope, flirting with self-destruction, and usually, things didn't end well — not for me, and definitely not for the people around me.

Grudges kept me on my toes. They kept me sharp. Couldn't forget, couldn't let myself get fooled again by someone who'd already done me wrong. And I was cool with that, like a ticking time bomb kind of cool, until I thought I found someone who got me. Someone who could put out the flames, show me the softer side of life, the morning sun's warmth instead of the heat of a fire.

She had always been my Achilles' heel.

We were lost children, lost in the haze of our youth, drowning our sorrows in booze, trying to escape everything that hurt us. I started falling for her then, in a simple way, because she was like me, yet she was good. Kind in a way that baffled me, that I couldn't wrap my head around. How could she see so much good in me when I couldn't even see it myself? How could she trust me so completely, with a trust that scared the hell out of me because I wasn't used to that kind of tenderness, that kind of affection?

Before I knew it, my love had turned into devotion. A devotion so deep it mingled with the marrow of my bones, making me stronger and weaker in equal measure. ‘Cause when I lost everything but her, the fear that she might be next only drove us apart.

Eleanore. Eleanore. Nore.

It wasn't a walk in the park to forget her after it all went south. For the longest time, I wanted to forget her, to despise her just like I did with Lars and James for booting me out of Metallica. After some time, it became a piece of cake to act like I didn't give a shit, that I was better off without her, that I was over her and ready to move on, diving into other kisses, other lovers. Drowning myself in whatever substance I could find, anything to drown out the hollow feeling inside.

But without her shining light, I was adrift.

As weeks turned into months and months into years, my fury toward her slowly simmered down enough for me to see that what I felt wasn't anger, but love. A love wounded and raw, twisting my heart in an endless pit. I longed for her, but it was too late; it wasn't rocket science to figure out that she and James were living the dream of a perfect relationship while folks seemed to get a kick out of keeping me posted on every move Metallica made without me. And I tried to sell myself the story that it was for the best; that if she’d left me, it was better for her to be with someone who truly lit up her world. That I wasn't, and had never been, good enough, worthy enough of her love.

And to add insult to injury, it's not like I didn't have my own demons to wrestle with. As the years rolled on, my reliance on any and all substances that could numb me from reality grew worse by the day, until it reached a breaking point. My first go-round in rehab fell short; I found myself making repeat visits to those gloomy facilities more times than I could tally up. And all along, I was just searching for something, anything, to reassure me that I was headed in the right direction. Something that could pull me back from the brink, something that could save me.

And then I found her.

As fleeting as our reunion had been, it was enough to shatter any facade of normalcy I had managed to cobble together. Because deep down, I knew that after laying eyes on her again, I couldn't live with myself if I let the opportunity to reconnect slip through my fingers. It was like her presence had wiped away all the pent-up anger I harbored inside. But beneath that anger lurked pain and fear. After all, hadn't she chosen James over me in the end? How could her reappearance not feel like a mirage, especially when she had once shown me the purest, most sincere form of love, only to snatch it away and make me believe I didn't deserve any of it?

That I didn't deserve her. And that she was worthy of something better.

When she asked to meet up to discuss the past, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. How could I deny her anything? And there I was, the Dave Mustaine, known for my sarcasm, anger, and aggression, completely bending to the whims of a woman. But not just any woman.

Her.

I found myself buying her flowers and eagerly anticipating our meeting like some lovesick teenager. Not because I was after a quick fuck or a girl dazzled by my wealth and fame, but simply because it was her. And God knows how when she was around, it was like everything else faded into the background. I dared to hope that her sudden reappearance in my life, after so much pain, emptiness, and longing, was a sign that good things were on the horizon.

But life's never that simple, is it?

Then James showed up, with his anger, arrogance, and disdain. My heart sank as I watched the intimate exchange between them, even in the midst of a fight. The silent communication in their glances held the weight of years of companionship, two souls deeply entwined on the same journey. And I couldn't help but envy James because he knew a side of her that I no longer did. He had stolen it from me, something I’d lost when I was deceived and betrayed by those I once considered my family.

But as I listened to their argument, and her desperate pleas for him to understand that all she wanted was to make things right and explain herself, I couldn't help but remember one of the things that had made me fall head over heels in love with her in the first place: her unwavering loyalty, always ready to defend those she cared about, the same loyalty that had her standing by my side without a second thought when my world came crashing down. Loyalty. I swear I never cheated on you with James. That's what she’d said, right? And I realized I believed her, but that didn't make things any easier. Because if that was true, then had I truly shut her out of my life, without even giving her a chance to explain herself, all over some stupid misunderstanding?

It wasn't surprising that James was furious with her for still holding onto any hope of patching things up with me. Fuck . I mean, it wasn't like this was anything new, but had I really been that big of an idiot?

I didn't even deserve her to look at me. I should just leave, spare her from my anger, my bitterness, and my mistakes. But how could I when she was right there, her blue eyes shimmering with tears she tried to choke back, so close and so real?

"I'm sorry, Dave," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't know James was gonna barge in here and stir up such a mess, I..." She sighed, seeming lost for words, wrapping her arms around herself, looking so confused and alone that I couldn't resist. Striding over to her, I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against my chest, hoping against hope that this would be enough for her to grasp everything I was feeling but couldn't put into words. She smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and this unique sweetness that was just her, and it made me ravenous. I buried my face in her hair, one hand gripping the back of her head while the other pulled her closer, and she hugged me back, like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You were telling the truth, huh?" I murmured, my heart aching. "You and James... You weren't really together that day?"

"No," she sobbed, her voice heavy with sorrow, and I held her even tighter. "No, we weren't..."

"It's alright. It’s okay, sweetheart," I whispered, the pet name slipping out without me even realizing it, the weight of my mistakes threatening to crush me with regret. I wanted to cry too, but I couldn’t, not now. I had to stay strong for her. "I'm here. Let it out, I'm here."

I held her until her sobs subsided, her breathing slowing down. She pulled back a bit, looking up at me, her face tantalizingly close to mine, and I had to use all my strength not to kiss her right there .

"You don't wanna chase after James?" I questioned, trying to hide the distress in my voice. She shook her head, looking like she might burst into tears again any second.

"No, not right now. It'd just make everything worse. We'd end up arguing more,” she whispered, her cheeks damp from her tears. “He's angry, Dave. And he's been holding onto that anger for ages, and I don't know how to help him..."

"Hey, it's alright. You'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"We weren't together. I mean, that day," she started, breaking away from my embrace and heading to the couch, where she took a seat. I took a seat too, unable to stand even a moment apart from her. "I knew James had feelings for me. I knew because he'd kissed me once, out of the blue, and I knew I couldn't keep ignoring the way he felt."

She paused, and I nodded, pushing down the surge of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside me.

"I… I liked him too. But I loved you. I was so, so in love with you. And I’d chosen you . I would always, always, always have chosen you. That day, running into him was just a total coincidence. I didn’t even know he was gonna be there. I mean, I get it now, I should've told you everything back then. But honestly, I was scared stiff. Didn't wanna risk pushing you even further away. It was all my fault..."

"No," I cut in, squeezing her hand, small, soft, and warm, in mine. "No. I should've let you explain. You were my girlfriend, after all. I owed you that much, Nore."

"I tried to track you down afterward, you know, to explain myself," she confessed, her voice choked, those pleading blue eyes of hers practically begging for understanding. "But it never quite panned out. And then..."

"And then?" I prodded gently. She glanced away, nibbling on her lower lip, like she was wrestling with the right words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, urging her on.

"And then... There was that song."

I let out a rough breath. Mustaine, you fucking idiot. She didn't have to spell it out. I knew exactly which song she meant, a tune born from my anger and bitterness, a misguided attempt at bravado fueled by some foolish hope that she'd hear it and come chasing after me, even if it was just for a fight. But in the end, it only drove Nore farther from me. If there was a prize for boneheaded moves, I'd have been on that podium in a heartbeat.

"And you never bothered to find me," she murmured, her voice laced with hurt, her gaze dropping to her hands, her lower lip trembling just enough to betray her pain. It was like watching a wounded bird, helpless and vulnerable after falling off its nest.

God, how I longed for her to forgive me, even for the sins I had not sinned.

"I tried," I admitted, and she glanced up at me quick, cheeks flushing the sweetest shade of pink, those blue eyes of hers sparkling like they could stop my heart. Why was she happy to hear that? Why was she messing with my head like this? Didn't she love James now? Tears threatened to well up again, the lump in my throat tightening. I couldn't stand this. "I did try. But you were gone. Off touring in Europe with him. And then a year later or so, Cliff pops up at one of my gigs. I asked about you, wanted to see you. But he shut me down," I revealed bitterly. "Told me to get over it. Said you and James were together. That you were in love. So I threw in the towel."

She looked utterly surprised, like it was news to her. After all these years, I'd figured she didn't give a damn. So why the sudden interest? Why act like she didn't know? It felt like she was ripping my heart out all over again. Because, painful as it was to admit, I still loved her. I had never, ever, ever stopped loving her. And now she was back in my life, with those piercing blue eyes and that gentle heart, thinking she could save me, thinking she could fix things. Innocent. Pure. Wasting her heart on the wreck that I was.

And I couldn't even muster the guts to lay it bare — that I was a screw-up. That I was useless, that she oughta go off and be happy with James 'cause she'd never fix what was broken in me. I didn't deserve that. But I wanted it — I wanted to be near her. I was too damn selfish. I wanted her goodness. Her innocence. I needed it to belong to me, and only me, and no one else.

I didn't deserve her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping my hands tight. "I just... I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I didn't know, Dave," she sniffled. Was she crying? She shouldn't be. She hadn't done anything, anything wrong. Maybe I should've pushed harder. Maybe I should've listened. Maybe I should've gone after her, fought for her. But now, it felt too late.

"I should go," I muttered, even though it tore me up inside. "I don't want... You and James, Nore, you two are together..."

"But we're not, " she blurted out. I went still, locked into her blue gaze. Please, don't toy with me like this. "Things with James, Dave... They're complicated. But we're not together. Not like that. We..." Her voice hitched, and all I wanted was to hold her, to never let her go, to never let her cry again. "We're both broken. Cliff's death... It tore us apart."

And there it was. That vulnerability. I'd noticed it, how she seemed fragile now compared to the lively girl I once knew. This was new, and it broke my heart that she’d changed to feel ruined. It crushed me that the happy, determined, kind girl I once knew had become a wounded woman. A woman still grieving, even years after losing the one who'd shaped her world.

And it stung even more that I was such a worthless piece of shit that I felt selfishly relieved to hear she and James were no longer together.

"Please, don't string me along like this," I managed to whisper. She chuckled, her voice trembling, then met my gaze.

"Dave. Would I lie to you about something like this?" she asked, almost sweetly. Oh, this devil of a woman. If only she knew how she had me in the palm of her hand right then. "Please... I don't want you to leave."

"What should I do?" I practically pleaded. Just tell me what to do because I can't take this anymore. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to—

"Stay with me," she breathed, her fingers weaving through mine. My heart raced, disbelief flooding me. I didn't deserve it, this happiness. I didn't deserve her.

Yet there she was.

Yet she wanted me.

My hand shook as I reached out to touch her face gently. I traced the curve of her lower lip with my thumb, watching as she blushed, her lips parting ever so slightly, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. I pulled her close, my mind racing as much as my heart, and kissed her, our lips moving together, my tongue exploring her mouth eagerly, tasting her like it would be the last time. Because maybe it would. Maybe this was all just a dream, and I would wake up in my cold bed, miserable and stupid and alone without her.

Because this was too good to be true. That a woman this small could hold this much power over me, over my heart, felt almost like a joke. But there she was. She was beautiful. She was kind.

And she wanted me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet

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measuredingold · 6 months

Text

to be in love and to be loved

chapter three: unexpected

authors note: finally able to post this chapter! it was a struggle for me to finish and this isn't even all that i've written, i've wrote so much that what i had originally planned for chapter three is going to be chapter four. however, even in the struggle, i'm excited for what i have planned for this series <3 as always please enjoy and feedback is appreciated! this is also entirely in naomi's pov :)

pairing: noah sebastian x ofc x nicholas ruffilo

masterlist / cross-posted on ao3

word count: 8.4k (another doozy)

cw: ~kissing~, lots of angst (your chest might hurt), sexual content (phone sex lol), feelings realization, 18+ (minors do not interact.)

Living in a van for a week was not all it was cracked up to be. This week included being crammed in a tiny space for days on end, getting to know her friends in more personal ways than she ever dreamed of, learning how to sleep sitting straight up and being comfortable, and eating more fast food than she ever had in life. Though, as her mind drifts off to her flight later this evening, she can't help but already miss it.

Yeah, it sounds fucking awful, especially being the only girl in the crew, but there was something about it that Mimi loved. She got to spend a whole week with some of her favorite people in the entire world, and the thought of going back home makes her sick. She’s never liked goodbyes. They've always left her feeling sad, almost empty. Depending on who it is she often feels like something is missing when leaving them, or when they leave her.

It was hard when Noah and Nicholas moved to Los Angeles. She was happy that they were chasing their dreams and doing what they wanted, but she couldn't deny the sadness that crept into her every time Noah brought up their move. The day they left was hard, but the first night was even harder. She truly felt like there were pieces of her missing.

It’s starting to feel a lot like that right now.

She feels Noah squeeze her hand and looks up at him, but the boy is looking out the window, lips turned down into a frown. She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder. This morning had been... quiet. They all knew what was coming but no one dared to say anything. Even Folio was quieter than normal, giving her a sad smile when she greeted him that morning.

Noah has barely said a word to anyone today, and he hasn’t left her side for one second. He’s not usually this clingy, brief touches here and there at most, but ever since last night he’s been glued to her. He even helped her at the merch table with Nicholas, and when they weren’t busy, he had his hands on her. In retrospect it was nice, but she knew deep down the clinginess is coming from a place of sadness.

Before she knows it, Jolly’s pulling into the airport parking garage. She told them they didn’t have to park and follow her inside, just dropping her off at the door was fine, but they all insisted. It’s quiet when they make their way inside, Nicholas insisting that he carries her things while Noah’s hand clutches her own.

They waited until the last moment to drop her off, per Naomi’s request, because she wanted to spend every last moment with them. She had about an hour before her planed started boarding, and by time she got through TSA, she’d probably only have enough time to get a quick snack and get ready for boarding.

Jolly and Nick said their goodbyes first, pulling Naomi into their arms. She tries not to cry, swallowing down her tears when she lets them know she’ll miss them. They were good friends before her arrival, but after spending an entire week with them, she knows their friendship has strengthened. Jolly even kisses her forehead before he lets her go, giving her a gentle smile before pushing her towards Nicholas who was next.

She turns to meet Nicholas' gaze and she thought she could hold it in like she did with Jolly and Nick, but the second his lips turn into a sad smile she feels herself breaking.

“Come here.”

She rushes into his arms, slipping hers around his waist as she pressed herself against him. She doesn’t stop the tears and instead lets them flow as she buries her face against his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, just tucks his face against the crook of her neck and squeezes her to him.

“I’m gonna miss you.” She manages to get out, voice muffled by Nicholas’ jacket. He laughs, but it falls short.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Mimi.”

She pulls away from him to finally get a good look at his face, eyes scanning his features. This time feels different, good or bad she’s not sure, but she’s trying to savor every second she has left with her best friend.

Nicholas leans forward and brushes his lips against her forehead before whispering, “No more tears. We’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

Naomi sniffles before giving him a tiny nod and he smiles, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes gloss over in his own tears. He pulls her back against him to give her one last hug.

“Take care of him.” She whispers, just low enough for Nicholas to hear. He stills in her hold. “You always do anyways, but I feel like I just needed to say it.”

“I will. I promise.” He whispers, voice sounding strained, and it almost sends her over the edge.

They hold each other for a few more moments before she finally pulls away, dreading to turn around to Noah. She already knows he’s trying to hold it together for her, but with how he’s acted the last 24 hours, she can already guess how hard that’s becoming. Nicholas gives her one last smile before she turns to Noah, her heart immediately crumbling beneath her chest.

He looks… well, fucking miserable. Eyes rimmed red and glossy, but no tears have yet to fall. He’s trying so fucking hard, she knows, and Naomi doesn’t stop herself from rushing towards him. He lets out a whine the second her arms around wrapped around his waist, a pitiful sound, and she feels fresh new tears slip from her eyes.

Leaving Noah was always hard, even when they were just friends, but now it was different. They were together. After her conversation with Nicholas in the van, she went to Noah the next morning and they both finally decided what this was. Noah was hers and she was his and thinking about going back to Virginia and her tiny little apartment she once called home without him has her feeling like her chest is about to rip into a million fucking pieces.

“Can I just come with you?” She hears Noah say from above her, voice muffled from the way his face is buried in her hair. She laughs, sad and wet, and presses herself closer to him.

“They’d kick my ass if I stole their lead singer.” She eventually gets out, swallowing down the sob that wants to escape. She pulls back to look up at Noah and catches the moment a single tear slips from his eyes. She’s quick to reach up and wipe it away, hands cupping his face. “Only a few more weeks and then we’ll figure it out. Okay? I’ll come to you, you can come to me, whatever you want.”

Noah nods and he sucks in a shaky breath, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

She smiles up at him and leans up, lips brushing against his briefly. “I love you.”

An announcement over the airport speakers has them breaking from their moment, and Naomi pulls back to check her phone, seeing she had about 45 minutes until boarding starts.

“Text me when you get home.” Noah mumbles sadly, pulling her back against his chest. “Right when you land, right when you get to your car, right when you walk into your apartment…”

She laughs, a real one, and lets herself relax in his hold for a few more moments.

“Okay, dad.”

Noah rolls his eyes but laughs along with her anyways, and with one last kiss, she’s making her way towards the security line. They stay until she’s made it to the front, and she sends them a sad wave. She gets through TSA a lot quicker than she expected, which was a plus, and had enough time to get a few snacks and a drink to keep her satisfied on the plane.

The plane ride home wasn’t bad at all. She ended up eating her snacks and falling asleep halfway through, which was nice, because she had barely gotten any sleep the night before, but it was barely enough to satisfy her. She wakes up groggy and walks through the airport almost like a zombie, half asleep trying to find which way she needs to go. She forgets to text Noah when she lands, when she gets to her car, but doesn’t forget when she steps into her apartment. She fishes her phone out from her bag, thumbs dancing across the screen.

i’m home and am missing you already. facetime later? :(

Her thumb hovered over the screen, eyes staring down at her opened messages. Nicholas' name stares at her and without thinking she opens it, thumbs working over the screen.

wanted to let you know that i'm home❤️

Mimi isn't sure why she sent it and why she felt the need to even let him know because Noah would end up telling him, but her fingers move faster than her mind. She locks her phone and takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning over her apartment. Before this trip it had felt like home, and she made sure of it with all the clutter she's added to make it really feel like hers. Now, a deep ache is settling itself into her chest, these four walls feeling foreign to her.

She's starting to think that maybe home isn't a place, but a person.

Or maybe… people.

…

Life went on how it had before, Naomi waking herself up every day to head off to work, maybe hang out with a few friends after she got off, and then settle herself onto her couch after a long day with one of her shows. Most nights she'd FaceTime with Noah, and sometimes with Nicholas when he would answer, and it was nice, but the ache in her chest grew each time they said goodbye.

Tonight was no different, her phone propped up in her hand as she curled up on the couch, Noah's name flashing across the screen. She smiled to herself before answering, waiting for the connection to kick in so she could see his face. It felt like she hadn't seen him in months, even though she had spoken to him the night before while getting ready for bed.

"There she is."

Noah's voice instantly brings a smile to her face.

"Hi baby," She hums happily, shifting into a more comfortable position. "What's up?"

Naomi caught his eye through the screen, and he smiled, wide and bright, and leaned back against the couch he was sitting on, holding his phone up.

"Just chillin'." Noah says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "We just finished setting up for tonight and now everyone's just... doing their own thing, I guess."

"Are you by yourself?" She can't help but frown.

"Nicky was here a second ago, but I have no idea where he went."

Just the mention of Nicholas has her chest feeling heavy, the thought of the boy plaguing her mind. It's not like she hasn't spoken to him since she's been home, actually FaceTimed him the other night when she couldn't sleep, and he just so happened to be awake. But it wasn't... like it normally was. Their conversations were short, Nicholas not saying much while Naomi told him about her day. Even his texts seem to be shorter. It feels almost as if he's pulling away from her, for what reason she's not sure. She thought whatever that was wrong with him the week she joined them on tour was over with, but it only seemed to get worse once she left.

"What's that face for?"

Noah's voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and she blinks at the screen, head tilting.

"What?"

"Your face." Noah squints at her through the screen, his own lips dipping into a frown. "You're pouting, and your foreheads doing that thing where you get lines when you think too hard."

"No, it's not." Naomi says, growing immensely defensive. She tries to relax her face, but Nicholas crosses her mind once again, and her frown returns.

"You're doing it again." Noah's tone softens. "What's up?"

“Is Nicky okay?” She blurts out after another moment of silence, worrying her bottom lip.

Noah pauses.

“What do you mean?”

Naomi shrugs, looking anywhere but the screen. “I don’t know, just.” Another pause. “He’s been a little weird with me recently.”

“Weird?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. We just don’t talk as often and when we do it’s… something’s off and I don't like it.”

Noah pauses again and she watches him chew on his bottom lip, brows furrowing.

"Well, now that you mention it," Noah begins, shoulders deflating. "He has been acting a little weird. He..." His eyes shift to the side in thought. "It kinda seems like he's in his head a lot more recently? Like he's just... not here."

Naomi frowns once again. "Present but not present?"

Noah snaps his fingers, head nodding as his eyes focus back on his phone screen.

"Yes! Sometimes when I talk to him it's like he's not even there, but he's nodding along to whatever I say." It's Noah's turn to frown, and Naomi hates the way her heart drops, settling into her stomach with a heavy feeling. "You know, I didn't even realize it until you brought it up..."

His voice trails off, the sadness seeping through, and Naomi knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Don't feel bad." She's quick to add, head already shaking. "I didn't notice until a few days ago."

"But I do feel bad." Noah murmured. "He's my best friend, I'm supposed to know when he's going through something."

"Only if he tells you." Naomi says gently, the protective feeling she always gets when it came to Noah filling her veins. She squirms around on the couch to get comfortable again, fingers gripping her phone. "Nicky's a big boy, I'm sure he'll tell us what's wrong soon."

"I guess..." His voice trails off again, unconvinced, and Naomi chews on her bottom lip again.

She goes to say something else, not really sure what it could be, before Noah's head is snapping to the right, and she hears the door opening and muffled voices in the background - Jolly and Folio. No Nicholas. Her heart drops again, and she tries to swallow the lump in her throat that's been forming this entire phone call.

"You hungry?" She hears Folio before she sees him. "Me and Jolly found a Denny's. Like a five-minute walk from here."

Noah's once sad demeanor changes in an instant at the mention of Denny's and she can't help but laugh, the worry slowly releasing itself from her body. She'll just tuck it in the back of her mind for now, bring it up again another time. Maybe she could even talk to Nicholas sometime this week and ask him what the fuck was up and finally put an end to whatever this was.

She just wanted her best friend back.

"Oh, fuck yes." Noah exhales happily before his gaze moves back to Mimi. "Do you know how long it's been since we had Denny's?"

"I'm guessing a while?"

"Too damn long." Folio's face finally comes into view, now sitting beside Noah on the couch. "Hey, Mimi. Is it okay if we steal your boy for dinner?"

"Hi, Nick. Of course, it's okay. I need to get up and eat, anyways."

"If you're awake, can I call you tonight?" Noah questions, staring at her with soft brown doe eyes. Mimi smiles.

"Sure. I'll turn on an alarm just in case I do fall asleep."

"Okay, cool. I'll text you." Noah smiles sweetly at the phone and her heart clenches beneath her chest, warmth spreading throughout her body. "Love you."

"Love you too."

They exchange their goodbyes and Naomi lays against the couch for a moment, her phone laying on her chest. Her mind goes back to Nicholas and she wonders what he's doing. She reaches for her phone again and sorts through her messages, scrolling to find Nicholas' name. She frowns at the last conversation between the two of them, from a few days ago, and the one word replies from Nicholas staring back at her.

She sighs, thumbs sliding over the screen.

miss you and hope you're alright. talk soon?

Not even thirty seconds later, the read receipt on her message appears and the texting bubble pops up. Her heart races as she waits, but a minute passes, and then another, and the bubble soon disappears, and her heart sinks.

…

A few days after her conversation with Noah, Naomi decided to call Nicholas. She waited a few days because they had back-to-back shows and didn't want to be annoying. It was just bothering her. What had she done? They were fine one day and then somehow the next they weren't.

She's tried not to think too hard about it, but with how sad Noah had seemed upon his realization, she couldn't help it. Naomi has known Nicholas for over three years now. She knew him like the back of her goddamn hand, and she knew something was wrong. There's a reason why he was so distant, why he was pulling away. Not only from her but from Noah.

The thought makes her sick, stomach twisting in a way that it's almost painful, and she has to swallow down whatever lump has decided to form in her throat. Naomi missed Nicholas - her Nicholas. The one she could talk to about whatever, the one she could call whenever, and he'd pick up. The one that didn't hide things from her.

Naomi chewed on her thumb as she waited for her call to go through, hearing it ring three times before Nicholas picked up.

"Mimi?"

"Hi Nicky." She hummed softly. "Just checking in. Haven't heard from you in a few days."

"Oh, sorry. You know how it gets." He responds, almost sounding distracted. She frowns. "Everything's good, though. I'm sure Noah's told you."

"Well, yeah. He's told me." She grumbles. "But it would've been nice to hear from you every once in a while."

He pauses. "We literally talked like... four days ago."

"And it was a hi and bye at best." Naomi can't stop the sigh that slips from her. "We've barely spoken since I left. That's not like us, Nicky."

"I've been busy."

"Right. Yet Noah has enough time to talk to me… Hell, I’ve even heard from Jolly more than you.” She shifts in her seat, eyes narrowing at the wall ahead of her. “If there was something wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

“Of course.” His response comes quick, almost too quick, and Naomi nods to herself.

“Then why haven’t you told me there’s something obviously wrong?”

Nicholas is silent on the other end.

"Exactly.” Mimi spits out, annoyance already eating at her. "You've barely spoken to me. It's like I've done something to you and now you're avoiding me – you literally ignored my text the other day."

She doesn't hold back voicing her thoughts. She's never had to with Nicholas, he always being able to be someone she could always talk freely to, and even though they're in a weird spot she won't stop now. Another round of silence fills her ears, so quiet that all she can hear is Nicholas breathing on the other end.

"Just..." Naomi sighs, bringing her free hand up to rub at her forehead. "If I did something to upset you then tell me, Nicky. I can't read your fucking mind. Especially when you're a hundred miles away."

"I'm not asking you to." His voice is sharp, and she can't help but flinch, even though she was just as sharp with him moments before. "I'm fine. Nothing happened. Tour is just a lot right now, promise."

"Remember when you said you could tell when I was lying?” He doesn’t respond. “Well, guess what? I can tell when you are too, Ruffilo."

"I'm not lying-"

"Nicholas." She cuts him off, an annoyed groan leaving her. "Can you please cut the bullshit? It's just the two of us. You can be honest and tell me what's got you so pissy."

"I'd rather not talk about it because it doesn't fucking matter, Naomi." Nicholas stops himself from continuing and he sighs. Mimi can already picture him running a frustrated hand through his hair and the image alone has something in her turning. "I know you didn’t call me just to argue so drop it, okay?”

"No." She holds her ground, grinding her teeth together. "You're going to tell me what's wrong so we can fix this, alright?"

"Why are you so dead set on this?"

"Because you're my best friend!" She says exasperatedly, throwing her head back against the couch. "If there's something wrong, and something I may have caused, I would really like to fix it."

"Well, you can't." He laughs, and her stomach drops at how tired he sounds. Her lips dip into a frown. "I just need to suck it up and get over it."

It's Naomi's turn to be silent, chewing on her bottom lip as she racked her brain. Her mind goes back to the week she had spent on tour with the band and remembers the day Nicholas' whole demeanor changed one day, but she can't really pinpoint the exact reason why. He was fine one second and then not the next.

What could have changed?

"I can literally hear your brain turning," Nicholas says softly. "I promise I'm fine, well, I'll be fine. I just need some time to sulk, think it over, and then I'll be good as new."

"I just wish I knew what was wrong so I could help." She mumbles, the sadness trickling through her voice. "I hate seeing you like this. I just want to take all that sadness away for you, Nicky."

He swallows. "I wish you could, too."

For some reason she feels nauseous. She hates that she can't help him when he needs someone, and she has to sit on the sidelines and watch while he suffers. Why can’t he just let her help?

"Can you at least let Noah know what’s going on? He's worried too."

"I know." A pause. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you." She hums softly, and her gaze flicks towards the small clock she had on the wall. "I should probably go. It's late. You have a show tomorrow."

"That I do." He sounds tired and Mimi's chest twists with sadness.

"I'm sorry for being so upset." She quickly gets out before he could hang up. "I just... I care about you a lot."

"I know." Nicholas hums. "I care about you a lot, too. And Noah."

"We know."

Another moment of silence.

"Call me tomorrow?" Nicholas asks softly, hopeful. Naomi nods.

"Of course, as long as you answer.” She teases.

"Oh, fuck off.” There’s no malice behind his voice, and she can almost hear the smile in it. “Goodnight Mimi.”

"Goodnight Nicky."

That night as she laid in bed, trying to sleep, she did her best to ignore the heaviness in her heart as her mind drifted back to Nicholas.

...

The tension from her shoulders fell the second she stepped inside her apartment. A pleased noise escapes her, a sigh most likely, as she slipped her shoes off and left them by the door, padding her way through the apartment. It had been a long day filled with work at the new office, and an even longer night when her coworkers turned friends convinced her to go out with them. One drink turned into two, two drinks turned into three, and three drinks turned into her having to have someone drive her home.

Naomi didn't feel as drunk anymore, maybe a step above tipsy, and all she really wanted right now was to wash this makeup off and slip into something comfier. She'd been daydreaming about the oversized shirt in her closet on the ride home, almost being able to feel the soft fabric wrap itself around her body. She couldn't remember whose it was - maybe one she had bought, maybe one she stole from Noah, or maybe one she stole from Nicholas. Who knows, because she sure as hell doesn’t.

Her body falls into a routine the second she steps into her bathroom, comfy clothes on, and she pulls her curls up into a loose bun, diving straight into her skincare. She couldn't be bothered to do the whole step-by-step routine she liked to do, just a double cleanse to rinse the makeup and dirt from her face and then some moisturizer.

Her phone ringing in her room has her pausing mid-cleanse, heart picking up from the surprise.

"It's two in the fucking morning..." She grumbles to herself, rushing into her room to retrieve her phone.

Her heart rate slows down at the sight of Noah's name flashing across her screen, and she instantly relaxes. She forgot he had promised to call her after their show that night, but it might be later than usual. One of the headlining bands promised to take some of them out and treat them to some drinks.

for being so fucking awesome🤘🏻, Noah had texted her earlier.

She carefully picks the phone up and answers, immediately switching it to speaker phone.

"Hello?"

"Baby."

Noah's voice fills her bathroom and the tone in which he used has a shiver running up her spine. She shakes it off, leaving it to the alcohol still coursing through her veins, and lays her phone down on the counter to finally wash off the cleanser still on her face.

"Hi, my love." She hums.

"What're you doing? You sound far away." There's a whine to his voice and she can't help but chuckle, smiling at herself through the mirror.

"You're on speaker phone, I'm taking my makeup off."

"Did you just get home?"

"Mhm." She bends over the sink, splashing water over her face before reaching for a washcloth, gently wiping her makeup off. "What're you doing? Did you guys end up going out?"

"Yeah." Noah hums in response. "I went out for a little bit, they're all still at the bar. I came back like five minutes ago."

She does another cleanse of her skin, just to make sure everything was completely off before dabbing a towel over her face.

"Why'd you leave so early?"

"Missed you," Noah mumbled into the receiver, and she can hear the pout in his voice. She smiles to herself. "Wanted to hear your voice."

"Missed you too, sweetheart. How many more weeks of tour left?" She asks as if she didn't already know, counting down the damn days as they pass.

"Three weeks." He sounds relieved. "It's been incredible, but I miss my fucking bed. And you. I really fucking miss you."

Naomi laughs, a bit too loud for two in the morning, but she doesn't care. Hopefully her neighbors don't mind too much.

"These three weeks will fly by so quick, babe. I promise."

Noah hums something in response but she doesn't quite catch it, only hearing the whine in his voice and the slight slur to his words.

"What was that? I can’t hear you and your drunk rambling,” She teases with a laugh.

" ‘m not drunk. A little buzzed," She hears shifting on the other end and a shaky breath leaving Noah before he continues, "and maybe a little tired, but nothing too crazy. Are you drunk?"

"No. Just a little buzzed and tired like you."

"Can we switch to FaceTime? I wanna see you." There's a slight lilt to Noah's voice, a little more breathy than normal, and Naomi's skin prickles at the sound.

"Of course, baby. Give me a second." She mumbles, quickly applying some moisturizer to her skin.

She picks her phone up and presses the FaceTime option, watching her screen load. She props her phone up against the mirror in front of her and reaches for her toothbrush when she hears Noah let out a pleased sigh.

"Mimi."

That breathy tone he used again has her pausing, fingers gripping around her brush as her eyes flickered back towards her phone.

“Oh.”

The look in Noah’s eyes has Mimi tensing, shoulders squaring as she stared at her phone screen. She knows that look – she’s seen it before, remembers it clearly. The way Noah stared down at her with his wide brown eyes, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as he tried to hold in his noises in some empty venue hallway while her mouth moved along his cock, heavy and wet on her tongue. Her thighs press together at the memory.

"How long until they come back?" Is the first thing she asks, eyes narrowing at Noah through the screen. He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"They won't be back for a few more hours."

There's shifting on the other side of the screen, and she sees Noah's face scrunch up, eyes squeeze shut for a moment. His mouth parts, a shaky breath leaving him. Her thighs pressed together again and heat pools in her stomach at the realization of what he's doing. The only thing she could see on the screen was his face, but she knew that if it was angled just a bit lower... Naomi has to take a deep breath to calm herself.

"What do you need from me, baby?" She keeps her voice soft, light, and she lays her toothbrush down on the counter. Noah makes a noise, almost like something got caught in his throat.

"Talk to me." He breathes out, a slight whine in his voice. "Tell me what to do, I don't know. I just like hearing your voice."

She feels her cheeks flush at the compliment, and also at the fact that in intimate moments like this all Noah wants is to hear her. She smiles to herself before reaching for her phone and quickly making her way back to her bedroom, crawling onto her bed.

"What's got you so worked up, pretty boy?" She questions while getting comfortable, pulling her blankets over her body. She's thankful she likes to keep her room cool, because she knows her body will surely be heating up soon.

He keens at her words. "Couldn't stop thinking about you, or that picture you sent me the other day."

She flushes at the memory of the… risqué picture she had sent him earlier that week. She was adorned in one of his shirts he had gave her before she left the tour, a band shirt she had been stealing from him for years, and a pair a red lace underwear. The shirt was bunched up, barely covering her breasts, and really the only thing you could see were the lace – which was a favorite of Noah’s.

Nothing too crazy, but it was just enough to drive Noah mad and that’s why she sent it.

“Yeah?” She breathes out, the heat in her tummy already swirling. “I knew you’d like it.”

Noah whines at that, and she sees the muscles in his arms tense as he moves again, and her mouth waters just at the thought his hand – long, tattooed fingers – wrapped around his aching cock. She squirms, wishing nothing more for it to be her hand, or even her mouth.

“I fucking loved it.”

“Can I see what you’re doing, baby?” She questions, keeping her voice as level as she could.

Noah nods as another whine slipped from his parted lips and she watched as he shifted on the bed, bringing his phone lower. She couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his cock – red, swollen tip on full display. His chest rose and fell as he gave the base a firm squeeze. She could only see the bottom half of his face but watched as he licked at his lips before biting down on his bottom lip roughly. He’s already almost to the edge and trying to hold himself together, just for her. Her thighs press together again. They’re still learning each other and figuring out what works, but she was quick to find out that Noah loved when she was direct with him, telling him what to do. He’d listen, no questions asked. Noah was someone that typically liked to be in control of almost every aspect of his life, not usually leaving it in the hands of someone else, and the fact he trusted her enough to do this made warmth spread throughout her chest.

“Oh, you poor thing… It looks like you don’t even need my help at all, baby.” She teases, lips tugging into a smirk. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since this morning.” He gasps out, squeezing his cock with every stroke. “I just – oh, fuck. I really couldn’t stop thinking about you. I fucking,” Noah whimpers, hips rolling into his fist. “I fucking can’t wait to touch you again.”

Naomi’s eyes flutter shut at his words, biting down on her bottom lip to try and keep her own noises at bay. She’s not even touching herself and yet his words have her going crazy already, warmth pooling into the pit of her stomach, and she knows there’s a wet patch in her underwear now. She squirms.

“God, I can’t wait.” She breathes out, eyes opening to stare at Noah. “Is that what you want? To touch me?”

“Yes.” He whimpers. “So bad.”

“You can soon enough, baby, just not right now.”

He whines at her words, and he tilts his phone up to where his full face is shown, and she tries her hardest to not gasp at the fucked-out expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to say something about touching her, she just knows it, but she shushes him before he could even utter a word. His mouth clamps shut immediately.

“Soon.”

He nods, another whine ripping from deep in his chest and she watches his glossed over eyes focus on her, brows furrowing.

"Is... is that Nicky's shirt?" He pants out, staring at the screen with blown out eyes. Naomi freezes before quickly glancing down at her shirt and then back at the screen.

"Yeah. I think so."

Something inside of her stirs, the admission raising some kind of panic in her, but Noah doesn't look angry. No, he looks far from angry. The flush in his cheeks deepens and her shoulders relax, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. He liked it – a lot.

"...You look really good in it."

His hand speeds up, working himself closer to the edge and the small, barely there gasping moans he’s letting out has Naomi’s thighs pressing together, cunt clenching around nothing. She wanted nothing more than to slide her hands down her sleep shorts, press against her aching clit and rub one out, but she stayed still. Her focus was solely on Noah and Noah alone, she’ll help herself out later.

“Thank you.” She hums out, her own cheeks slightly flushed. “You close, sweetheart?”

He nods before his head lolls to the side, another moan ripping out from him, from deep within his chest. She watches as his hips roll and stutter in his hand, chest rising and falling. It doesn’t take long until he’s choking out her name, followed by a high-pitched moan, spilling all over his hand and stomach. Naomi bites her lip to once again keep her own noises down, fingers twitching because she could easily slip two fingers into herself now with how wet she was, but she doesn’t. Instead, she waits for Noah to come down, the rise and fall of his chest slowing down. He blinks when he brings the phone back up to his face, eyes glossed over and her chest twists because she’d do anything to be there right now, but the best she could do is give him a gentle smile.

“Hi, baby.” The corners of his lips quirk up and her smile only grows. “You did so good, my love.”

Noah makes a noise, almost like a whine, and his eyes flutter shut. “Yeah?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She rolls onto her back now, ignoring the wetness in her sleep shorts. “You’ll need to get up and clean yourself up, okay?”

Noah groans in response and it takes her a few more minutes of convincing him before he’s pushing himself up and off the bed, going to the bathroom to clean himself off. He takes the phone with him and she knows it’s only to know she’s still there while he’s getting ready for bed, because he doesn’t even say a word. He usually didn’t after he’s came down, brain fuzzy and tired, and the ache in Naomi’s chest on tightens even more.

She misses him so, so much.

Her own eyes are fluttering by the time he makes it back it back to bed, snuggling deep into his pillows. She does the same, curling her blanket close to her as she brought her phone closer to her face, seeing Noah’s eyes barely open.

“You should sleep.” She whispers, a yawn following her words.

“Will you stay on here with me?” He asks quietly, peaking one eye open at the phone before letting it slip shut again. “Until I fall asleep.”

“Baby, I’m not that far behind you. I’m one second away from falling asleep with this damn phone in my hand.”

Huffing out a sleepy laugh, he opens both eyes finally, “That’s fine. Just stay on here. It’ll be like I fell asleep next to you.”

She doesn’t stop the slight dip of her lips at his words, heart dropping to her stomach. Sure, the illusion is there, but Noah isn’t. Absentmindedly she stretches her hand out, fingers running over empty sheets.

“I miss you.”

Noah notices the frown, his own lips pursing into a pout. “I miss you, too. I’ll be home soon.”

“I know,” She mumbles, trying to swallow down the lump that’s found its way in her throat. “Just… miss you a lot.”

Noah doesn’t say anything, just gives her another pout before his eyes fall shut again. Silence washes over them and that stupid lump is still lodged somewhere deep in her throat, but she tries to will it away, settling her phone against the pillow beside her and shutting her eyes.

The last thing she remembers before falling asleep is Noah’s gentle voice whispering, “I love you.”

…

"What the fuck are you guys doing?"

Naomi can't help but laugh as both Noah and Nicholas give her a goofy grin from the other side of the screen. She can see Jolly in the back who just rolls his eyes, but his lips are curled so she knows he's not that annoyed by their antics.

"We missed you." Noah says, laying his cheek against his arm. He's stretched out on his shared bed with Nicholas, laying on his front, and resting his phone on the pillows.

They're in some bum-fuck state in the middle of nowhere, Naomi can't be bothered to really remember where. They had a day off tomorrow, she remembers from a text Noah sent her earlier that morning, and she suspects they went out after the show and had only a few drinks with the other bands. At least, that's what Nicholas told her about an hour ago. She suspects Jolly may have had only a few, but with the Folio is knocked the fuck out on the other bed, and the dopey grins on both Nicholas and Noah's faces, she's gonna say they had more than a few.

"Yeah?" She hums, snuggling into her blanket. Nicholas nods, climbing his way on top of Noah.

The younger boy doesn't even budge as Nicholas practically clings to his back, his chin resting on Noah's shoulder.

"Of course." Nicholas' bottom lip juts out. "We always miss you."

She can't help but flush at that, her skin heating up at Nicholas' words. We always miss you. Such a simple statement has her tummy doing flips, and it should be concerning due to the fact it wasn't her boyfriend who said that. It was her best friend, and she should unpack that, but she won't. At least not now.

"Cute." She mumbles, bringing her blanket up to hide her burning cheeks. "I always miss you guys, too. It's lonely without y'all here."

"One more week!" Noah exclaims and it's followed by a yelp, a pillow flying at him from the side of the screen.

"Shut the fuck up." She doesn't miss the groggy and very grumpy tone of Folio, and she covers her mouth to stifle her laughter when both Noah and Nicholas look at the screen with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Noah sheepishly says, grunting when he tries to scoot closer to the phone but Nicholas on top of him makes it hard, so he opts for grabbing it instead and whispering, "One more week. I can't wait to see you."

Even in his drunken state she can hear the sincerity in his tone, and her heart swells beneath her chest. One more week and she'll be with her boy again. She's been antsy for the last few days, knowing that soon enough Noah will be with her. He's staying for a week before he has to fly back out to Los Angeles, their upcoming debut album drop date slowly approaching. She hasn't told him yet, but there might be a plane ticket that's sitting in her mailbox that's departing from RIC to LAX during the second week of August.

She'll sit on that for a few more weeks before surprising him with it.

"I can't wait to see you too, baby." Her gaze softens at the smile Noah gives her and her eyes move from him to Nicholas. "And you, too. You're staying a few weeks, right?"

Nicholas nods, shifting a bit on top of Noah which causes the boy under him to groan. "Mhm. A few old clients hit me up, so I'm gonna be home for a while."

Home. Just the words falling from his lips has her grinning from ear to ear, chest fluttering with some sort of feeling that she can't explain, and her tummy doing those stupid flips again. Seriously, she should unpack whatever she keeps feeling whenever Nicholas looks at her, whenever he mentions coming home because she knows that it means he's coming back to her. She just missed him a lot, right? She just missed the comfort of not having both of her boys with her, always having one of them at her side. That's all this was. She had just grown used to the feeling of her best friend always being a call away, and since this is his first time back home in months, she's just excited. Right? That's all this is.

The growing pit in her stomach says otherwise, but she can't even dwell on the thought before she's speaking again.

"Think you got time to give me another tattoo? I've been itching for another one."

The words fall from her lips without much of a second thought and the look Nicholas gives her through the screen has her breath hitching. She had gotten a few other tattoos after the one Nicholas gave her, but the peonies on her thigh was the only one he did himself. Memories of that night in the shop fill her mind, and she knows Nicholas is thinking about it too, and she squirms against her bed.

"Of course," He clears his throat, as if he was shaking himself out of whatever trance he was just in before giving her a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I always have time for you."

She blushes.

"We should all get matching tattoos." Noah says suddenly, snapping both her and Nicholas out of whatever trance they were in. "When we get home."

"You wanna get matching tattoos?" She questions and Noah nods.

"Well, yeah." Noah shrugs - or well, tries to, because Nicholas is still draped over his back - and gives her a smile. "We all got matching band tattoos a few weeks ago, so it makes sense that we would get one, too."

Naomi feels warm all over, Noah's words making something clench beneath her chest. It shouldn't be too surprising, her and Noah are dating, and all three of them have been friends for so long. It was always the three of them, their tiny trio.

"I'd like to get something to remember the two most important people in my life." Noah continues after a few beats of silence.

Nicholas hums. "I think we should. We could get Vince to do them for us."

"See! We are so doing this when we get home."

"What would we even get?" Naomi asks, laughing quietly at her boyfriend's excitement.

"Now might be the wrong time to ask us that, Mimi." Nicholas mumbles, leaning his head against Noah's. "Asking two drunk people what they should get tattooed is just asking for trouble."

"What do you mean? My best ideas come to me when I'm drunk." Noah jokes, his laughter mixing with Nicholas'.

"Yeah... I'm sure they do.”

Both her and Nicholas are smiling, and she notices how fond the boy looks, eyes dropping to Noah before flicking to the screen to look at her. Her breath hitches the second their eyes meet but Nicholas' smile only widens, eyes crinkling at the ends. She clears her throat, gaze moving back towards Noah.

"We'll figure it out when y'all get home, okay?"

Both boys nod, agreeing with her that they should think on it and agree whenever they come back to Richmond. Mimi reaches up to cover her mouth with her hand, stifling the yawn that's been threatening to escape for the last few minutes.

"What time is it there?" Noah asks softly. He yawns just seconds later, and Nicholas laughs above him.

"Around 1." She mumbles, snuggling further into her bed. They were about an hour or two behind her, she thinks, maybe more.

"You should go to bed." Nicholas says to her. "We didn't mean to keep you up."

"Oh, hush." She huffs out a quiet laugh. "You didn't keep me up, I wanted to talk to you guys. I miss you."

Both boys flush at her words, sheepish grins tugging at her lips and she has to stop herself from cooing.

"We miss you so much." Noah hums, trying to keep his voice low. Nicholas nods at his words, head knocking against Noah's. "And we can't wait to see you. One more week."

"One more week." She says back, lips curling.

"Text me when you wake up?" Noah asks while Nicholas slowly rolls off of him, instead snuggling next to him. He throws an arm over Noah's back and Naomi doesn't miss the way Noah sinks into the feeling of Nicholas pressed against him.

"I always do, babe."

"I know," He whines, pouting at her through the screen. "Just felt like I should ask."

"You shouldn't have to ask." She hums, giving Noah a gentle smile. "I'll text you first thing in the morning, okay?"

Noah nods, cheeks stained red, and her gentle smile only widens as a comfortable silence falls over them. Naomi stifles yet another yawn, eyes fluttering closed, and when she opens them both Noah and Nicholas are already staring at her, softness swirling around their eyes. She brings the blanket up to hide part of her face.

"We love you." Noah murmurs, voice soft and quiet, like he only wanted her and Nicholas to hear.

Something shifts the exact moment her eyes met Nicholas' across the screen, her breath hitching.

She knew there was still something there for Nicholas, something that she pushed so far deep inside of her that she thought she could ignore. It's starting to surface again, her throat tightening up as if it's going to come up that way, and she swallows it down as Nicholas kept his gaze on her through the screen. Even in his drunken haze there's still a softness in his eyes that she knows is just for her... and Noah. He gives her a smile, a dopey one similar to Noah's, and then he's looking back down at the boy. His expression doesn't change, and she has to take a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, biting down on her lip to try and stop it from trembling.

"I love you," She manages to get out, saying it to no one in particular. Her eyes moved from Nicholas' back to Noah's, and she somehow was able to muster up a smile. "So much. I can't wait for you guys to come home."

They both smile, wide and bright and so fucking beautiful, Naomi feels like she can't breathe. it was starting to become overwhelming, this feeling itching farther and farther up into her chest and almost like she was being suffocated. They eventually say their goodbyes, and she even manages to say goodbye to Jolly, who she's forgotten was even there, hair wet from the shower he must've taken while her, Noah, and Nicholas fucked around on FaceTime.

"Goodnight Mimi." He smiles as Noah turns the camera towards him. "I'll make sure your boys are alright."

Your boys. She clears her throat, giving him a tight-lipped smile that he notices almost right away, brows furrowing.

"You always take care of them for me. Thanks Jolly."

A few more goodbyes from Nicholas and Noah, who seem to not want to let her go yet before Jolly has to physically take the phone away from them and end the call himself, Naomi is met with silence. She lets her phone fall to lay beside her as she rolls over on her back, eyes glued to the ceiling.

That feeling she felt earlier? The one she couldn't explain? The same one she got whenever she looked at both Noah and Nicholas? It's clear as day to her now, slowly inching its way through her. It's in her bloodstream, flowing throughout her body. She can feel it in her toes, to the tips of her fingers, all the way to the top of her fucking head.

There's no doubt in her mind she loves Noah - she has always loved him. From the second they met she knew it was him. But there was no denying the feelings that she had for Nicholas. They were always there too, and maybe in the beginning it wasn't as intense, but now... Now it feels like there's a ten-ton brick weighing on her chest because she knows that it's serious.

Naomi was in love with Nicholas Ruffilo, and maybe she always had been, and it scared the absolute shit out of her.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo x ofc #noah sebastian x ofc #mine

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megplant · 9 months

Text

Killshot Pt. 2

Tangerine x F!Reader

Summary: Rival assassins/enemies to lovers Tangerine and Fem!Reader. You haven't seen Tangerine in years, since an unfortunate incident between the two of you in Johannesburg. He's popped up again while you're undercover hunting a mark - the same mark he's after.

Wordcount: 5.4k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, language, some nudity, drugs/mention of drugs.

A/N: This will probably actually end up being chapter 3 when I clean everything up and put it on AO3, but I'm bad at waiting and I love posting my finished scenes for some feedback! This scene would serve as a flashback - chronologically maybe a year prior to the events of Pt. 1. Let me know if you're liking the direction this headed, or if it's feeling too slow/drawn out! Thanks so much for all the positive feedback on the first chapter !!

Read Pt 1 - here

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Your head pivots slowly, surveying the ballroom and surrounding crowds while the Duke schmoozes. Introductions made, you are now not much more than an accessory. The shiny bauble on his arm to complement his image, nothing more. You play the part: simpering, beautiful, bored. Your gaze roams around the milling crowd, outwardly lazy, disguising your focused searching.

You're hoping to get a glimpse of your mark out here in the open before you need to pin down his location more precisely. It will make things easier later when you’ll need to find him in the dark, dingy corners of a secret bacchanalia in the basement. This opening hour of the benefit will be your best chance; if you just keep an eye on the entrance and the bar you’re sure to catch a glimpse of him.

Someone does catch your eye, a man's flashy gold jewelry catches the light in a way that grabs your attention. You scan the general area, and sip your champagne, choking on a gasp when you realize just who this man is.

Your date checks in on your polite coughs with nothing more than an annoyed side-eye and a squeeze on your arm that has you giggle appropriately and make your excuses. Of course, you will return when you have properly collected yourself, so sorry, so sorry.

He stands at the outskirts of the bar, a fresh glass of what you’d bet is whiskey in one hand. He looks to be surveying the party himself, but with no plus one sparkling on his arm to draw the eye he stands out.

You think he would stand out anywhere.

In this case, the classic lines of his crisp black three piece suit offer a striking contrast to his thick gold jewelry, slicked back hair, and perfectly groomed mustache.

He is quite distinctive in the crowd. His white collared shirt is loose, unbuttoned one too many to be entirely decent and without a tie. He looks at once expensive, but there's an aura of grit and sleaze about him that marks him as other in this crowd.

Dangerous.

The word materializes in your mind with a flash of gunsmoke and a throbbing in your shoulder. You dismiss the frisson of fear that runs through you at the unbidden memory, and square your shoulders.

Before you know it, you have nearly downed your champagne glass and are heading over to the bar. Presumably, for a refill.

You sidle into place at his side, silently, fiddling with your glass between your fingers as you mimic his stance looking out across the crowd.

“It’s been a long time,” You greet him with a barely restrained smirk. “Since Johannesburg.”

You can’t help yourself, you drop an inch of pretense to turn your head and take in his reaction. You never could have attempted to guess at his reaction, but as you meet his gaze, the intensity there surprises you. He doesn’t look angry, like you might have expected, but he also doesn’t look nearly as surprised as you imagined.

He holds your gaze for a long minute, and there’s something intense and unspoken behind his piercing blue eyes that you couldn’t hope to decipher. Finally, he lifts his glass to his lips, and swallows a slow sip.

“Working?” He questions, voice hard, and you can feel the slamming of the door between you as he shifts into his more put-on professional demeanor.

Despite the tension hanging between you, you realize that he most definitely is here working and it’s likely the exact same contract that you’re here for.

You know in that instant that the two of you will most certainly not be having some kind of terse heart-to-heart here tonight. Pity.

He seems to have the same realization as you, as you catch his eyes flick to yours quickly, accusingly.

Your heartbeat kicks into overdrive in response, your muscles tense expectantly.

His eyes narrow.

Your shoulder throbs with phantom pain around a long-healed bullet wound.

You know exactly what Tangerine is capable of.

You shift your weight to your back foot, ready to run -

“There you are!” The booming voice of your date carries across the crowd, and you’re so tense that you jump at the sudden intrusion. The champagne in your glass splashes back in your trembling hand, and you turn away from Tangerine.

“Are you alright?”

His timing could not have been better. He strides into place at your side with one hand sliding around your waist as he checks in with you with a glance. His other hand is thrown out for a handshake with your new conversation partner.

Before Tangerine can say something stupid to ruin your cover you rush to fill in the blanks of introductions yourself, and you interject before anyone can speak.

“Ah, William, yes, I’m so sorry! I’d gone for refreshments, and ran into an old friend. William, this is an old colleague of mine, Percy Smith. Percy, this is William Statton, he is a very generous donor to our foundation.”

Your eyebrows are raised high at Tangerine, pleading, as you make the “introductions”. Your hand shakes as you place it on William’s arm, adrenaline surging through you.

Tangerine shakes hands with the man, finally looking his way after tearing his disbelieving gaze away from yours. You can see the mocking laugh on his lips even if no one else can, but he is a professional, after all. He plays Gentleman to the hilt. If you didn’t know him much, much better, you might even buy it.

“Mr. Statton, charmed. Yes, I just had the delightful surprise of running into our mutual friend here.” Tangerine gestures his glass in your direction with a knowing smile.

You notice he’s careful not to say your name, since he doesn’t know which one you’re using. It might make you blush, if your nerves weren’t so frayed trying to figure out exactly what game he’s playing.

“It really has been a long, long time since we worked together.”

He bites off the second ‘long’ in a way that hints at his aggravation just below the surface. His thumb runs along his mustache absently as he takes in the two of you together. It’s an uncomfortably analytical gaze.

William watches ‘Percy’ watch you, and glances in your direction, uncertain and clearly confused. Slowly, he asks, “Sorry…where did you say you two used to work together?”

“Johannesburg!” Tangerine cuts you off, forcefully interjecting the word before you can state your carefully crafted lie. You can practically see the mischief twinkling in his blue eyes as he looks your way.

“...Yes, that’s right!” There’s a long pause before you’re able to jump back in with a cheerful cadence, despite your faltering. “The foundation had a mission out there, and Percy was one of the other volunteers.”

“Right, the foundation.” Tangerine stresses the word ‘foundation’ in a way that lets you know he thinks this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Oh, with his brother - Thomas!” You add brightly, and you don’t miss the way his mustache twitches in annoyance at your cover names. “Is Thomas with you tonight? I would certainly love to catch up with him, as well.”

Tan’s eyes narrow at you, as he realizes what you’re playing at. You want to know if he has backup, and where it’s coming from. He smirks, glancing around the crowded ballroom. You follow his eyeline, sure you see a glimpse of blonde curls in the crowd, but you blink and there’s no Lemon in sight.

“I’m sure he’s around. Never quite know what that Thomas is getting up to.” His tone is much too amiable to be genuine. He is definitely loving messing with you way too much.

You smile thinly while you glare at him, annoyed. “Of course!” You force out, intent on carefully extricating yourself from this conversation. Just as you open your mouth, ready to make your excuses to the ladies room, Tangerine cuts in.

“So, William, you must have made a hefty donation to her foundation to score the VIP tickets tonight…” He pauses to take a sip from his glass, clearly savoring the moment. “But, that doesn’t even matter does it, because you own this mansion, don’t you - Duke Statton?”

Tangerine locks eyes with you, although it would appear that he was still talking to William. He wants you to know that he knows just what you’re up to. “I do apologize, I’m sure you’re trying to go incognito this evening. But, ah, I couldn’t help but recognize you.”

“You recognized a Duke from a small Scottish Peerage?” You snort. You don’t think you could emanate a more hateful aura if you tried.

William looks bashful and laughs loudly, embarrassed in the way where he’s not embarrassed at all and loves being recognized.

“You’ve got me there! I may be hosting their benefit, but the Foundation does such incredible work that I wanted to get involved on a more personal level. Anna has been so fantastic, she’s been working with me to get my own charity off the ground!” He says.

William’s hand comes up to rest over yours on his arm, giving it the slightest squeeze. Tangerine’s eyes follow the movement with laser precision. He clears his throat and looks back up at William, the posh professional gent plastered on his face in full force. “Anna. Well. She’s always been a very hard worker. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would think he winks at you.

William misses the gesture, as he had taken the pause in conversation to check his watch, and tap it thoughtfully. He taps your hand, as well, a reminder.

“Anna - we have the…other engagement.” He says to you quietly.

You nod, nearly delirious in relief for the excuse to get away from Tangerine. The sooner you could get this job done and get as far away from here as possible, the better.

“Yes, of course - I’m so sorry, Percy, we actually have to be going. But, it was so lovely to see you, and please give my love to Thomas!”

“Hold on a moment-” Tangerine raises his eyebrows, more knowingly than you like, and lifts his own wrist to check his watch, as well. He chuckles and glances at William, fishing two fingers into his vest pocket and pulling out a familiar red keycard.

You recall William handing you an identical keycard while in the limo on the way here. It will allow you access to the sprawling complex below your feet, where the real party is taking place tonight.

William’s hosting your benefit, sure, but only as the cover to auction off some priceless piece of art recently plundered from its indigenous home. The bidding is closed, the sealed envelopes from all bidders due by 10:15 pm, precisely.

It turned out that your Foundation’s benefit served as a lovely cover for William to host a large number of auspicious attendees and for those attendees to drop large sums of money without raising any suspicions. William had been quick to accept your invitation to work together, thinking he was using you.

The mark you’re after happens to be a black market dealer that runs in the same circles as Stanton, so the obvious way in was to make the connection with the Duke. You were able to provide him a perfect cover for his auction and wiggle into his inner circle over the last few weeks. And if he happened to be pursuing you beyond a professional capacity, then it was useful to you as an option to exploit if necessary. Just being on the arm of the Duke would open every door in this place without having to worry about security at all, and that really was priceless.

And yet. Here you are watching your perfectly laid plans unravel before your eyes. This was supposed to be a quick and easy job, with the benefits of a luxurious date with a rich and handsome Duke. It was all set up to be a cakewalk with the Duke as your unwitting skeleton key. The Twins being here was making things decidedly more complex.

Your eyes widen as you see Tangerine with the keycard, and you glance at William. The two men look each other over, doing one last size up of the other, trying to discern if they were both ‘in’ on the secret. You see William break into a knowing grin, matched by Percy, and you barely suppress a groan.

“Downstairs?” William questions, knowingly.

“I guess we do have an appointment.” The delight dripping off Tangerine’s words was sickly sweet. The two men chuckle together conspiratorially and you start thinking of ways to get rid of Tangerine. Get rid of William. Get them away from each other, get Tangerine away from you - you were scrambling to come up with contingencies.

You softly clear your throat, patting William’s hand over your own. “The bids are due any minute…” You diligently avoid Tangerine’s gaze as you play the part of the simpering date. If his eyes are lit up with mockery, you don’t care to see it.

William nods with finality, and he reaches out for a last handshake with Tangerine. “Knew you were a good sort, Percy, old chap. Find me after, we’ll have a drink.”

You notice the sharp smile from Tangerine and tense - you’re never quite sure what he’s going to do next, and you know that crazed look in his eyes. It never means anything good.

Tangerine returns the forceful handshake, his smile dripping sarcasm as he catches your eye and holds your gaze while he speaks. “I’d love that.”

When he saunters away, towards the sweeping staircases that lead to the private elevators, you let out a long and slow breath. You keep your eye on him long enough to note that no Lemon appears out of the crowd to join him before he disappears down the stairs.

William is chatting benignly with you about the auction as he steers you towards the same staircases and you make blithe responses, only half-listening.

The two of you descend the grand staircase, the exquisitely appointed decor of the glittering ballroom melting away and revealing the practical concrete and plexiglass of the complex hidden below. The clip of your heels change timbre from light and staccato on imported marble to loud and echoing off of cold concrete.

There are a few other couples and groups milling around as the auction deadline approaches, waiting to get to the party. But, all you really notice is that Tangerine is nowhere to be seen.

Is he already downstairs?

Your anxiety ratchets up a notch. You won’t be able to get the mark alone for a little while, yet. If Tangerine’s “plan” is to burst in guns blazing, you’re fucked.

You approach an elevator bank, and William leads you to one off to the side. “This is my private elevator - even your card won’t work here.” He presses a thumb into the sensor, calling the elevator as he leans against it. He obviously thinks this is incredibly swoon worthy.

Obliging, you look appropriately awestruck, and slip the keycard back into your clutch.

“Will this take us to the party?” You ask, using your real nerves to lend credibility to your character.

You might be terrified that an unhinged wildcard is roaming around unchecked and very likely to ruin your plans - but Anna is very nervous about breaking the law, but she’s just so excited to be here with the dashing Duke that she would do anything he asked.

“I have business to attend to, first,” He reminds you, ushering you into the elevator after it opens. It’s as opulent as the ballroom above, completely out of place within these sterile concrete halls.

You pout up at him, and he chuckles, caressing your cheek and using his finger to push your chin up to hold your gaze.

“Don’t fret. You can go on ahead without me and start…enjoying. I’ll find you once I’m done with all the tedious paperwork.”

You simper appropriately, averting your gaze as if you were just too overwhelmed by his attention. Everything was going according to plan. The original plan, anyway. He should be occupied with the auction long enough for you to set up the next pieces of Plan A and perhaps prep some backup contingencies for when things inevitably go off the rails.

The elevator dings: a muted, polite sound, and you are let out into what looks like an identical set of concrete hallways. William gestures to a tuxedo-clad brick shithouse of a man to escort you. You certainly wouldn’t want to run into this guard if you were down here alone.

“This way to the party, ma’m.” The guard grunts at you after William takes his leave.

You follow his hulking form through the complex, taking careful note of each turn and distance traveled. Plan A does involve calmly coming back the way you came, and you diligently note the route, but…part of you has a sinking feeling you’ll end up needing some other exit strategy.

It doesn’t take long to reach a door that looks different than all the others. Its large, double doors are a tufted black leather that reminds you of an upscale strip club. The guard opens one of the doors for you, and you step into the dimly lit space, hesitantly.

Despite your meticulous planning, you weren’t sure exactly what to expect here. William had been cagey with the details, wanting to surprise you, he said. Test you, you thought.

You only knew for certain what you’d been able to glean from his hacked financials. You’d found receipts for imported liquors and cigars, a DJ, and an entirely unique staff from the benefit. But there were plenty more cash payouts you couldn’t trace. You imagined most of that cash had gone to sex workers and drugs, but you still didn’t know what the Duke might be capable of. God knows you’d seen much worse than strippers and coke before. Ultimately, you were prepared for any number of debauched possibilities.

Entering the lounge, you find that your suspicions were only mostly right. Strippers are spotlighted on small, raised daises with crowds grouped around them. You see several card tables set up, with what looks like professional dealers manning them. The seating is plush and abundant, with long couches and tucked away booths encouraging attendees to cuddle up and get comfortable. You see people - both subtly and not - kissing, touching, sucking, even fucking.

You quickly avert your gaze from flashes of naked bodies only partially obscured by tasteful velvet curtains, feeling your face heat up. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before, but not quite what you had expected. It seemed the Duke’s well of possible depravity ran deeper than you had given him credit for.

The lighting is politely dim, allowing the partygoers the illusion of anonymity and privacy. You take advantage, keeping your face in shadow as you step through the lounge and head for the bar. It gives you a moment to compose yourself, and to scan your surroundings.

Naked and nearly naked women walk around distributing refreshments. You can see the bar now, it’s classic mahogany, a Victorian marvel nestled in the back of the large room. It isn’t very crowded, you note as you approach, with most couples enjoying themselves elsewhere.

Before you get there, a topless blonde walks up to you with a tray filled with long, white lines. You give her a shy smile, and reach into your clutch. You pull out fifty quid and lay it on her tray, shaking your head as she presents the tray to you.

“No, thanks, just - can you tell Natasha to find me at the bar? Tell her Anna’s here, please.”

The woman just shrugs, pocketing the money in a small pouch around her waist. “Whatever you want, sugar.” She says easily, turning and moving back through the crowd.

Your shoulders hunch with tension as you find a barstool to perch on and wait. You go over and over what needs to happen next in your head, running it like a drill, again and again. The time is limited and there are wildcards at play, and you will not be able to relax until you regain some semblance of control over this fucking situation.

The bartender nodding at you is a welcome intrusion, and you at least have the clarity of mind to ask for two glasses of champagne. It isn’t long before another woman sidles up behind you, quietly making her presence known.

“Natasha,” You greet her with a nod, which she returns.

She forgoes a greeting, and speaks directly, her Russian accent making her words sound clipped and harsh. “Your man will be in third room down the private hallway. One hour. He ask for me - a blonde.”

She looks you up and down, in your high-necked gold ballgown with your long, brown hair tumbling down your shoulder. You chuckle at her expression, well aware of how you look next to Natasha, clad in nothing but a lacy, black thong and a sheer bra. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a severe braid. The two of you hardly look alike.

“Is that all?” She questions, suspicion lacing her words. She likely still couldn’t believe how this incredibly simple sharing of information had netted her such a large cash advance from you.

“That’s it,” You reassured her with a smile, pulling out your phone and swiping through to send the final half of her payment. “The rest is in your account, now. Just give me the signal when the dressing room is empty and leave the room key in your locker. Do not acknowledge me from this point forward.”

Natasha nodded, looking mildly intimidated by your sudden shift in demeanor, but ultimately cool and collected. She gave you another long look, and then turned to head back into the crowd. That was one piece slotted into place, you thought, letting out a long breath.

You stare out across the lounge for a moment longer, cataloging your surroundings. You determine that you have at least a minute or two to yourself, and you slump in your seat. Two glasses of champagne sit at your elbow, having been silently delivered while you were speaking with Natasha.

With smooth, practiced movements, you slip a small dropper bottle out of your clutch and quickly dispense four drops of clear liquid into one of the champagne glasses. You swipe your thumb across your bottom lip and smear it on the bottom edge of the dosed glass. The glass is gently set on a cocktail napkin just slightly to the left of your elbow and your clutch is snapped closed with the dropper inside when you feel a hand on your arm behind you.

Your sultry smile is fixed in place as you turn, expecting the Duke back slightly earlier than planned.

Of course, it’s Tangerine.

Your expression deadens as you realize your mistake, then hardens as your pulse quickens anxiously. Tangerine only smirks at you, one hand in his pocket with a casual lean as he stands in front of you.

His swagger emanates off of him - it’s dreadful. He thinks he’s “got” you and he’s so goddamned smug about it.

It’s cute.

He runs his hand up your arm and skims it just over your shoulder and skates his fingers across the back of your neck, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. You sit still, breath held tightly in your chest. You’re trapped in between the desire to lean into the touch or run for your life.

It takes you a beat too long to realize he was reaching around you to grab your champagne glass. Cheeky bastard.

You strike out with a sharp pinch to the nerves in his wrist, sending a buzzing pain through his arm. He winces mockingly, pulling his hand back as he slides into the empty barstool beside you.

You keep a haughty expression on your face, deliberately lifting and replacing the champagne flutes in front of you. You are looking straight ahead, knowing that if you pretend to ignore him it’ll only piss him off more. Your lips twitch with amusement, feeling his glare burn holes in the side of your head.

It feels gleeful to see him squirm, and so you make an elaborate meal out of taking a drink of your champagne. You swirl the golden liquid, observe the bubbles, and savor your long, slow sip. After you gently set the glass back down, you use a cocktail napkin to pat your lips dry. You open your clutch to pull out a compact mirror and lipstick, when Tangerine exclaims-

“All right-”

He leans in close to you and slides his hand under the bar top, pressing a blade to your side, tucked into you and facing the bar - from behind anyone would think you’re just having an intimate conversation. You freeze in place, hardly daring to breathe.

“I don’t appreciate you taking the piss, love.” He says, voice rumbling, low and mean. He digs the blade in, making sure you feel it through the thick boning of your dress’ corset. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you; a potent mix of fear and headiness at being this close to him after so long.

“But, it’s so easy to work you up. And you’re so cute when you’re pissy.” You match his volume, keeping yourself as still as you can while you smirk up at his furious glare.

You haven't got a fucking clue where you stand with Tangerine, and it makes you feel like you’re playing with a live wire. As far as you know, he’s only just found out you aren’t dead. As far as you know, the last time you saw him, he'd just sold you out and left you for dead. He’s unpredictable in the best of circumstances and you have no idea what he’ll do.

He exhales through his nose loudly, and the muscles in his neck all clench - he’s utterly enraged, and you know you’re poking the bear. You know. But you want to push him to his limit, fuck up his night and his money as thoroughly as you can - you want to rattle him.

You can’t help it, watching him try to reign in his rage is just too fucking funny and your smirk widens into a grin, taunting.

You’re reaching out for the livewire even as it sparks.

Lightning fast, Tangerine moves his free hand from the small of your back to the back of your neck. Before you can react, his fingers thread through your curls to lock onto the roots at the base of your scalp and he pulls - hard.

You gasp in pain and surprise, tears springing into your eyes at the sharp pain. He holds you in place like this, and he’s still subtle enough that from behind he just looks like your lover caressing your neck and playing with your hair.

“Cunt,” You hiss out, trapped between his unyielding grip and a knife at your belly. You see the way his mustache twitches at that - he likes to see you squirm, too.

You look down at the hand pressing a knife into you and glance at the the ostentatious gold watch on its wrist. It confirms your hunch - time’s just about up, and you really need to wrap this shit up. You cut to the chase.

“What do you want, Tangerine? How much do I have to pay you to fuck off?” You say, grinding out the demand as he keeps the iron grip on the back of your head.

He grins, and you catch a wolfish glint of white as a strobe light flashes past. His grip relaxes just slightly, enough to pass as pleasurable in different circumstances.

Not helpful.

“Ooh, that’s right. Wouldn’t want poncy Percy to come back and see us, would we?” Tangerine gives an experimental tug on your hair, and you just fucking know his narrowed eyes catch the way your eyelids flutter before you wince.

“You’re poncy Percy, you twat. He’s William.” You ignore his chuckle, ignoring the way the warm sound vibrates in your chest with want and settling on being fucking annoyed. “So, yes, would you mind, please, pissing the hell off?”

Something in the air between you has lightened, and you finally let yourself relax - you don't think he actually wants to kill you. At least not right now.

You test the waters by moving to pull your head slightly forward out of his grip. He tightens his hold for a moment, and then he lets you go entirely, dropping his hand. You note that he keeps the knife at your side - no trust amongst killers, you suppose.

“Are you still with the Firm?” He asks.

Your eyebrows raise, unable to hide your surprise at the question. This question is loaded, and you swallow hard - throat suddenly dry.

“Yes.” You nod once, forcing yourself to keep his eye contact.

Now Tangerine knows that the Firm knows you’re alive. And, of course, they handled your faked death. He knows you didn’t do it to get away and start a new life, like you always said. He knows what you’ve done.

He watches you with sharp focus and he asks you-

“Drop the contract.”

You’re unafraid of the knife at your side, but terrified of the piercing blue eyes holding you in place.

“You know I can’t.” Your voice is quiet, but you can hear the plea in your own words. He knows now you’re still at the Firm - he knows you complete your assignments. There is no other option.

You see the slightest softening in his body language, so you decide to push your luck.

“You owe me, one, anyway. For Joburg.” You say.

His nostrils flare and his mustache twitches in a way that lets you know he thinks you’re dead wrong and you fix him with a hateful glare.

“After Joburg?” You press, finally leaning into him and slipping your hand down to where his is holding the blade.

You know you’re running out of time, and you feel as breathless as if you had just fought him to the death. His hand is clenched hard around the handle of the knife, and he feels as unyielding as stone. His hands are as achingly warm as you remember, practically radiating heat under your own hand.

He’s quiet for a long moment, and you can feel the muscles in his arm flex and unflex. He's arguing with himself, you know, and you can only hope that he lands on ‘letting you live’ in his deliberation.

You let out a long breath of held tension as he pulls his hand away and tucks the blade in his waistcoat. Before you can open your mouth to say another word, he’s standing and straightening his jacket.

He’s fiddling with his cufflinks and staring off into the middle distance. You feel a wistful pang, watching him - closer than you ever thought you would get again, but he's still a million miles away.

You would give anything to be able to read his thoughts in this moment.

He finally looks at you, and you catch the same hardening of his demeanor as he turns to business. Your chest feels cold, you know he's shut you out - maybe for good now.

But, he's Tangerine. So he's unpredictable. Adaptable.

“Ten minutes lead, usual rules.” He speaks so casually, like he hasn’t invoked a shared past that you hadn’t dared acknowledge. Your mouth hangs open, shocked, and he smirks - happy to throw you off.

“I imagine your Prince will be here any second. You’ll need the head start.” He’s as cocky a bastard as ever, you think.

Tangerine glances in the mirrored wall behind the bar to smooth his mustache down and you catch his eye in the mirror. He stills his preening, meeting your stare.

You feel the timid flame of hope spark to life behind your heart and you swear you see something besides hate in his eyes.

You barely dare to breathe, let alone move, lest you break the spell.

“Why?” You croak out, tension making your voice rasp.

Tangerine holds your gaze, and you see him soften - just for a moment, you see a flash of the man you used to know - and then he looks away, like he can’t look you in the eye and answer.

“You don’t know everything.”

He’s already halfway across the lounge, about to disappear into another room, before you can collect yourself.

What the fuck does that mean?

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #mine #mineFic #killshot #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine fic #mineTangerine

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l0mljeonjungkook · 1 year

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Odd One Out | JJK / KTH / KNJ

⋙ Summary - Being friends-with-benefits with Jungkook was already messy until the universe introduces him as your stepbrother.

Namjoon has your heart in his clutches, and pity he's getting married soon.

And, Taehyung, is just not interested in your sister.

⋙ pairing: Taehyung x reader -? / Namjoon x reader -? / Jungkook x reader -?

⋙ rating: 18+

⋙ genre: fake dating to lovers, childhood bestfriends; fluff, angst, smut (more to come, won't reveal yet... Shhhh🤫)

⋙ warnings: no warnings in the prologue, will be added in future chapters.

⋙ word count: 1.7k+

A/N - I really have forced myself to post this, my sis (pain in the ass) too though, thank you B, for motivating me, and iloveyou. So, I hope you guys enjoy reading this, though it's just a prologue but do set a base for the series. I'd very much appreciate your feedback, it'll motivate me to no extent. Do leave your thoughts. And, thank you, angels, for reading💕

Also, cross-posted on Wattpad and ao3

Masterlist | series masterlist

PROLOGUE

Instagram, scrolling through it makes you cringe. The worst app, a zone for the nerds posting pictures or say it vaunting their spotless, seemliest, apt snippets exclusive of their messy life behind the camera. That’s what every walking moneybag, tycoon, and trouper does on this shitty app.

It’s one of the reasons you hate this app.

Right now, you ain’t scrolling for any baron or trouper or any love birds from your friends' group to pop on your screen. Clicking on this app seconds ago once your dad and mum left your room, intending to search for the one your father happily informed you, his exact words - “Well, I’m sure kid you’ll like him”, he was beaming, and studying his face, this one might be the one, he seems in no doubt.

And, that beam on his face makes you want to search --- Will Carter, you’re sure, you heard that name before yet can’t recall.

Your stepdad made an arrangement or just call it a blind date for you to meet this person, just another silk-stocking of New York City.

Apparently, it’s Saturday evening, and you’re so in for meeting new guys for the sake of your heart. If anything, you want to think about the one who will love you back one-sided love is shriveling your heart into a raisin. Only love can swell it back which has evaporated from it or say you've poured it on the one who never needed yours.

Whys and Wherefores, about clicking on the app with the end to gain some deets about Will Carter. Your date. Because this Instagram is good for nothing but stats about the one who posts their flashy life on here.

That's how you're left, bottoms up, zero drop left. For the sake of your shrinking to-raisin heart, you want to move out of the barricade you kept yourself into.

If that means, taking a step and meeting the silk stockings of New York City, you're ready with a pure vibranium shield like the one Captain America holds. However, with a slight change, no star but a heart in the center.

And before you get a chance to search deets on, your date tomorrow, on the app, with zero intentions, zip anticipation, and no image of the two men in your head, the picture popped on your phone’s screen makes your eyes shine but that shine fades seeing his love by him.

Posted three minutes ago it’s written below... the caption says - She said YES!

Now, coin it as the second reason to hate this app.

Okay, so thing is, USA’s most eligible bachelors, majestically statuesque with hearts brimming with goodwill, shockingly - befall upon you to be the most treasured men in your life. It’s stimulatingly the most unbelievable truth of your life.

The Foxy Holy Trinity is what your heart screams upon seeing them together.

The first one, Kim Namjoon, whose girlfriend said YES, minutes ago. So, nothing is arduously uneasy for you when it comes to him, merely thinking about him pumps your frozen blood into sweltering, circulating to every corner of your body. The man you yearn for and envy his girlfriend for being by him every time you eye the two. Whether on news articles or social media each time you log in to your account, it's not uncommon for their picture to pop up.

Not only he’s the CEO of the KIMS Group, one of the globe’s largest companies in the video game industry but also he’s the Romeo of your life. It’s not only you who envy his girlfriend of six years, there are uncountable single women out there wishing to spend a mere night with him well some drool over his money. However, that’s not the case for you. Neither his money nor his body is what you drool over, lets's just tag the latter one on you, howbeit never for just a night.

It’s a bit late for him to propose to her when you thought he might have done that. This also means you had time to go on your knees for this man with a platinum ring and propose to him.

Shame you’re late.

Shame, there’s no one like him.

Shame, even if there is, he ain’t your Romeo.

The picture your eyes are flukily glued on, is a picture of him, his girlfriend Heejin - now fiance, and your childhood best friend. Namjoon, on his knees holding her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with so much content in his twinkling brown eyes and smile touching them. Heejin looks happier than ever you’ve seen her. And, why won’t she?

You didn’t know you were crying until a tear streaks silently down your cheeks, blurring your vision, you quickly wipe it off. But a smile swipes on your face, wiping away the ache of your heart upon seeing your best friend, Kim Taehyung. He looks high under the starry sky on the cruise, wearing a champagne tuxedo, holding a flute of champagne in the air, between his fingers while staring at the couple, broadly grinning.

The second - Kim Taehyung, the man with an angelic face who has been cherished by you, to no extent among the three men in your life, is your childhood best friend. Also, brother of the former man, the love of your life. He’s been with you in all those darkest rooms when you gave up on yourself when you were left alone like a doormat yet he picked you up, hugged you wiped off your tears until his shirt soaked in tears until you left with zero, cleansed your brain once flooded with agony and fed you with affection until one day his dream came between you two. In situations where you zipped your lips from letting out stuff even to your mother and sister, it was him who stayed by you.

Everything was glittery until the enormously thick granite wall of his dream stood between your friendship. Following his dream is something that was meant to be.

Sanely, still pointing imaginary daggers to the picture, you notice the cruise isn’t the one, Taehyung gave you a surprise birthday party on, it’s junior you reckon. Also, the smile on his face isn’t the same as your birthday, he was practically glowing that day.

Not only your heart but your uterus too, contracting awfully right now. Perhaps you’re PMSing randomly crying your heart out, you reckon. “Shit not tomorrow. Shit shit, how did it slip,” you twist for the drawer beside your bed, yank it open pulling out the norethisterone bottle, you’re pretty sure and it’s even written in bold to take one but you pop out four, eyes on the screen and swallow them without water. It pokes inside your throat but you’re blind in love, eyes fixed on him.

Seems unfair to you, you’re currently clenching your fist, so terribly in pain, granted you’re alone and them - enjoying the night on cruise. You wish to be there, Taehyung invited you but you denied it, as a rule. It’s how you mechanically work, to keep yourself sane. On the flip side, regretting in the eleventh hour, and the next stop for you - to loathe yourself all over again for always choosing options that make you kick your guts out of the universe.

But that’s not your fault, declaring yourself guilty can’t be the third stair.

Wishing that you might have said yes, but you’d have to miss the date tomorrow and above all seeing them together would’ve only broken you to bits of a bit, and you’re not never up for that.

After that dream proposal, you don’t know how to react, but one thing’s for sure beyond a doubt - being happy isn’t on the list. However, faking that is the first bullet. Pretending is left.

You feel, might throw up, trying to find patience when impenetrable thoughts congest your mind. Locking your phone, you hurl it off as far from your sight to the end of your bed, looking at how slackly you are at present, in such an awful ache you won’t bend to hoist it up.

Your teary eyes forcing your brain to erase the memory of the past few minutes, tend to search for something around your enormous room only to show you something for which you wish nothing but a Ctrl+D for piles of unfortunate memories that you no longer ought to warm. Because at that very moment, your eyes fix on the huge picture on the blank wall, chilling your warm blood, skipping your beats, and choking breaths. You never hide the distaste that gets mixed with your blood every time you catch the sight of that picture, and to be honest, it’s just growing.

A picture of your parent's wedding night.

You lie down huffing out a deep sigh, next second you close your eyes, finding him smiling at you, and again a tear courses down your eyes melting away into your hairline, God these mood swings will be the end of me.

The third, once precious but now you change your route upon seeing him, Jeon Jungkook, where will you start about him? Once a friend twisted into a stepbrother by the grace of fate. It's that awfully easier for anyone to understand but to you - it's another dreadfully unpleasant memory marked on the darkest corner of your soul for the rest of your life

Although you're to be blamed for it.

Ache, written gracefully in your story.

It almost dies you, curling your toes and curling your trembling fists at the same time, every time your brain takes you to fly back to the time when there was something more. It gets hard to face, but that’s your reality, now.

So, these men are out of your league, given the reasons.

One is engaged today.

The other one, your best friend, you never saw him in the way your mum wants you to see him, perhaps it’d be impossible for you to even envisage such an irrationally illogical future with him and surely beyond your senses. It will only create awkward situations and complex everything in between.

For the third one, you won’t say much, barely two words popping in the back of your mind, to burn the bridge of imagination - moonshot.

Tomorrow it’s date night, and your period cramps are making you think if you’ll even see the light of day.

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pocketjoong · 10 months

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❥𓂃𓏧THE RING chapter 4! masterlist

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS)Five years ago, the seas became unruly; there were waves large enough to drown islands, storms deadly enough to destroy anything, and monsters big enough to swallow ships. Everyone avoided the waters, never daring to stray too far from the shores. People had adapted to this lifestyle, but things changed for the worse. A report of dark mist swallowing islands and killing everything in its path was made. No one knew what it was. Everyone dreaded it, praying that it wouldn’t reach their islands. Around the same time, things changed for your family as well.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) merman!seonghwa x fem!reader; pirate!hongjoong x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) violence. swearing. eventual smut. angst.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 3.2k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) I always enjoy feedback, reviews, and asks so don't hesitate to comment/send an ask! drumroll please We finally meet Kim Hongjoong!!! YAYYYYYYY!!! throws confetti all around We have some more action before we meet Jongho, so sit tight and don't forget to fasten your seatbelts because it's going to be a wild ride! <3! Anyways, do send an ask to be added to the taglist if you are interested! Also I cross post on AO3 only!

Before you can explain your plan to Seonghwa and Yeosang, something seems to catch their attention. The two males freeze in their tracks, observing the dark alleyway with narrowed eyes. You turn around as well, but other than closed shops, you see nothing at all. Moreover, the only sound you can hear is that of the wind chime in the seer’s shack. Confused, you turn to face Yeosang, who is frowning as he listens for something that is too low for you to hear.

“Someone is coming,” Seonghwa whispers urgently, gently guiding you into the shadows of the awning of another building right next to the seer’s shop.

Stood between the two mermen, you can’t really see much except for the flickers of shadows on the road, so you mainly have to rely on your ears to take in the movements around you. Whoever it is that your companions felt coming your way must be further away, for you can hear no footsteps or even whispers that would alert you to the presence of approaching people.

Seonghwa keeps his eyes on the road as he is in front of your little group. Like this, he appears ethereal, his scales shimmering in the dim moonlight. For a moment, you allow yourself to study his side profile, eyeing the curve of his nose and the arch of his lips. His silver-grey eyes appear darker, and his brows are furrowed in concentration as he listens for whoever is making their way towards you.

“If they attack, I want the two of you to run,” Seonghwa says under his breath, his eyes meeting yours before they travel to Yeosang, who stands behind you.

“But—”

Yeosang hushes you, cutting off your protest, making you glower at the male. However, it is at that moment that you finally register the quiet sounds of footsteps on the pavement. You duck your head under Seonghwa’s arm to see silhouettes of two people on the road.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You catch someone’s whispered words.

“I'm sure. The old man said this is the place we’d find her,” this voice is slightly higher pitched than the other one and has an allure to it that makes your breath catch in your throat.

The footsteps come closer and stop in front of the Seer's shack before moving inside. There’s a beat of silence where you contemplate telling your companions that all of you should leave, but before you can, the footsteps are back.

“The wench wouldn't even see us,” the person who speaks is the same one who was asking his companion if they were in the right place. He sounds agitated, seems like no one told him that the seer doesn’t accept male clients.

“Yunho,” the owner of the alluring voice admonishes the first person—who you assume is Yunho. “She is known to be... aloof with males. Looks like we might have to ask your contact here to help us.”

“With the Mist already touching the shores of Ceres, most of the residents here have left, Captain. I cannot promise you that she will be here,” Yunho tells the other male, who curses softly.

“And here I thought we would finally have answers for why the oceans are behaving like this…” there’s a pause, “or at least a way to stop them.”

Your brows furrow when you hear the words as your brain interprets the situation. Your eyes widen involuntarily, a plan forming in your head that you know will definitely not sit well with either male beside you, but it is better than what you had in mind. Taking a deep breath, you come out of the shadows, dodging Yeosang and Seonghwa's hands as they try to stop you.

Your eyes land on the two men, and you can tell that they are surprised by your sudden entrance. But the flash of confusion is gone as soon as it appears in their eyes, and they go back to looking at you with an unreadable expression.

You notice that one of them is taller, with a muscular build and a sculpted face. He raises his eyebrows in thought when you meet his gaze, and it is only because of your training that you don’t shudder at the ice in his narrowed eyes.

The other one is shorter, but you can tell that he is the captain based on the aura this man radiates. He has features that remind you of the drawings of pixies you have seen in the fairytale books in the library, especially due to how his eyes—which are as blue as his hair—shine with mischievousness and curiosity.

“What is a dainty thing like you doing here?” The shorter male speaks, and you bite back a smile as you realise that you were right about this guy being the captain. “It's dangerous to be out here, especially for someone like you.”

“We came here looking for the same answers as you,” you cut straight to the point, discreetly looking to the side to see Yeosang and Seonghwa watching you with expressions of exasperation. Seonghwa moves to step out, but you widen your eyes and look at Yeosang to tell him to stop the taller male. As expected, he braces his hand against Seonghwa, who turns to your pink-haired friend with what you can assume is a frown from the way his shoulders tense up.

“And you think—”

“Did the seer answer you?” The captain cuts off Yunho—whose words are tinged with caution and slight disbelief—with a raised hand.

“Of course she did,” you deadpan, lips quirking slightly when Yunho rolls his eyes with a huff.

“And?”

At this, your lips bloom into a sardonic grin, “If you think I'm going to hand you the information on a silver platter, you are gravely mistaken.”

The male watches you carefully, tilting his head just a bit as he regards you with curiosity. “What do you want? I can give you a pretty price for what she told you.”

The laugh that leaves your lips is harsh, which startles both the males in front of you. “I don't want money, I just want the oceans to go back to how they were and for the Mist to stop its destruction. That’s what you want as well, isn’t it?”

“Stop talking in circles and get to the point,” Yunho bristles, narrowing his eyes at you.

“We need to get to Coralhaven for more answers,” you reply.

“We?”

“She means us,” Yeosang finally steps out of the shadows with Seonghwa, and you watch as the captain grabs Yunho’s wrist to stop his hand from drawing the sword tucked in its sheath. The shorter male studies your companions carefully, gaze moving from one male to the next. You notice when his eyes pause Seonghwa's scales, which you are sure are visible in the dim lighting, and widen slightly before he turns back to you.

“What do I get in return, Princess?”

You are not surprised he put two and two together, especially since you had noticed his eyes light up in recognition when he was studying Yeosang. He definitely recognised the seal decorating his sword. You notice said male begin to speak from the corner of your eye and glare at him in warning. He shrugs, allowing you to speak.

“Glory.”

“...And treasure,” Yeosang adds, causing you to sigh through your nose and roll your eyes.

“I told you to keep quiet.”

“Oops?”

“Fine,” the captain acquiesces, drowning out Yunho's protests with a hand on the taller male’s arm. “But we need to talk once we get back on my ship.”

“Of course.”

“Follow me, then,” he guides you through the dark alleyway, walking next to you while the three taller males flank your back. The only reason you feel safe walking in front of Yunho is because you know that despite his build, Yeosang and Seonghwa won’t let him hurt you.

The port is bustling, just like the port on the other side of the city, which is packed with people leaving for Crestshore. If only there wasn’t an undercurrent of danger and the stalls didn’t have artillery and other priceless items you wouldn’t find easily, you would have mistaken it for the same one you had entered Niafell from.

You notice that the steps of the male walking beside you lighten considerably the closer you get to the harbour. Wordlessly, he hastens his pace, and it takes you a second to do the same. It is only when you see a familiar ship that your steps falter a bit, which doesn’t escape the eyes of the captain. He turns around, walking backwards in front of you with a roguish tilt of his lips.

“Surprised, Princess?”

“Not really. With my luck, I'm not surprised you’re the one we ran into,” you shake your head in slight disbelief. Out of all people, you just had to run into the Pirate King. The Destiny Ship is well known throughout the kingdoms, almost as infamous as the captain of the ship. No one knows his name or where he came from, but he was quick to rise in notoriety and influence despite owning just one ship instead of a whole fleet like most well-known pirates that sailed the oceans. “I should have known when you recognised me. Only the Pirate King would know the faces of the members of the royal families of Sirelia.”

“Gotta keep myself safe somehow,” he shrugs and stops in front of his ship. His eyes suddenly turn serious, and he sighs, nodding towards the side.

You frown, not noticing anything of significance except that the two docks beside his ship are empty. “Am I supposed to be seeing anything?”

A sharp inhale causes you to whip around, and you notice that Seonghwa looks paler.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask, moving closer to the taller male whose hands are now shaking. Your hands move to touch his, but when he flinches, you step back with a cough, “Seonghwa?”

“It’s the Mist. You can't see it because it’s dark right now,” Yeosang explains, sounding slightly winded. He rubs Seonghwa’s back soothingly and meets the Pirate King’s eyes, “We should leave.”

“That's the plan,” the shorter male replies, climbing the ladder and disappearing only to peek his head to signal you to do the same. Yeosang starts to climb the ladder, and you follow him, noticing how the sounds on the deck get louder the closer you get. As you reach the edge, the Yeosang grabs you and helps you onto the deck while you wait for Seonghwa and Yunho to do the same.

Yeosang guides you to the side of the ship, pointing at the same area the captain had indicated. It is only then that you notice something is off, the waters next to the ship reflect the light from the port, but merely a few meters away, it is eerily dark, as if something is absorbing all the light. A shudder runs down your spine, and you involuntarily take a step back.

“It's okay. It won't hurt us, not now at least,” you hear the soft voice of the captain speak from beside you. He's watching the Mist with an expression that borders sorrowful, but when he turns to you, the corner of his mouth lifts up in a wry smile. “Everyone on the island will have ample time to leave before it takes over and destroys the island.”

“How do you know that?” Seonghwa asks, narrowing his eyes at him.

“We have heard stories from our allies,” despite the question being meant for the captain, it is Yunho who answers Seonghwa’s query.

“Alright, let’s get the hell out of this place,” the captain claps his hands, strutting towards the rest of his crew, barking orders amidst the flurry of activity on the ship.

It is only when the ship is safely out of view of the island and is well on its way to Coralhaven that the captain calls for the three of you in his cabin. The room is neater than you would expect the captain's quarters to be. On the right, a bed is tucked away into the corner, directly in front of which there is a chest of drawers. The left side is set up like an office; there are shelves full of books and other trinkets on one side and walls lined with cutlasses and guns. A table occupies most of the space, surrounded by a few chairs. As you walk closer, you see that the tabletop is littered with notes, journals, a map, a globe, and an inkpot that you recognise to be of Sileria from the craftmanship and raise an eyebrow at the captain, who grins.

“First things first,” he says as the five of you gather around the table, “My name is Hongjoong, and this is my first mate, Yunho.”

“I’m Yeosang. This is Seonghwa, and this is Y/N, but you already knew that,” Yeosang replies sarcastically. “I speak for all three of us when I say that I want to know why the two of you were looking for answers from the seer.”

“We don’t mind battling a raging ocean. We’ve been doing that for the past few years. But the Mist complicates matters a little, and we would rather not have all of the world getting destroyed.”

“That’s quite chivalrous of you,” Seonghwa ribs, tone tinged with astonishment.

“Don't sound so shocked,” Hongjoong huffs. “I have my own reasons for wanting to stop the Mist, and if it helps everyone else, I won't complain.”

“What did she tell you?” Yunho finally asks.

You hesitate a bit, looking at Yeosang once before facing Hongjoong and Yunho. “We need to find the forgotten one. The seer said that he will guide us to the things that will stop this mess.”

“The three treasures,” Hongjoong whispers, ring-clad hands brushing over the globe. “How do you know the person we are looking for is in Coralhaven.”

“He... he was banished from Atlantis,” Seonghwa’s voice is barely above a whisper, but all of you hear him clearly.

Hongjoong's hands freeze on a particular part of the ocean on the globe as he nods.“Okay.”

“How do you know about the lost treasures?” Yeosang prods, and you watch a deep sigh leave Hongjoong.

“We’ve heard whispers,” he states, skimming through a few pages scattered on his desk before he pushes a few closer so that you can see what’s written on them.

Cocking your head to the side, you regard the papers with interest. You don’t understand much, for the writing is horrible—scribbles that look more like insects pressed upon the loose leaf—but the inked circles, possibly made by Hongjoong on these pages, stand out to you. As you hum in interest, Yeosang is spurred into action, moving to lean over your shoulder as you point them out to him. Each encircled word is an equivalent of “the three lost treasures”.

“Those who set out in search of Atlantis have all heard of these treasures,” Hongjoong pauses as though searching for words to soften the blow he is about to deal. “No one is sure what they are or what they do or even where they are. But it doesn’t change that everyone agrees the locations of the treasures are only known to a particular kind of Atlantean, and there’s only one alive in any generation.”

“The Keeper,” Seonghwa supplies, his words soft, acting as a balm to the anxiety that arises from the captain’s words. “But you need a true royal and their guard to access them.”

“How do we get to all three people?” Yunho scoffs, crossing his arms and regards all four of you with furrowed brows.

“Well, we know the Keeper is in Coralhaven,” Yeosang replies, eyes trained on Hongjoong, who nods. You can’t tell what it is, but you are sure the two of them are having a silent conversation with their eyes, and you can’t wait to get your friend alone to ask him questions.

Seonghwa takes over for Yeosang, seemingly coming to the same conclusion as you, “We’ll worry about the royal and their guard when the time comes.”

“Well then, the three of you will be staying in a separate cabin from the rest of the crew,” Hongjoong announces, expression vacant and distant. He seems to shake off whatever it is that is haunting him and nods at his first mate, “Yunho, could you please guide our guests to where they will stay for the rest of our journey?”

“Yes, Captain,” Yunho replies, walking out of the captain’s quarters, not even caring whether the three of you are following or not.

“Princess?” Hongjoong calls just as you reach the door of his cabin, causing you to turn to face him with a quirked eyebrow. “I hope you won't mind working around here, can’t have people not doing anything on the ship.”

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Though, I’m practically useless at cooking, so don’t expect me to help around in the kitchen.”

Hongjoong laughs, a tinkling sound that makes you grin as well. “That’s fair. Please report to Minjae tomorrow, you'll find him on deck with Yunho early in the morning.”

“Aye, Cap'n,” you reply, watching Hongjoong bite back a smile.

“Thank you, Princess.”

You shut the door behind you, breathing in the salty air. The ship gently rocks back and forth on the waves. The familiar feeling of being back on deck after years makes you nostalgic, and your eyes meet Yeosang’s. It seems he’s thinking the same thing, for he smiles at you. Even in the dim light of the crescent moon, you can tell that both Yeosang and Seonghwa look much livelier now that you’re kind of in their element.

Yunho clears his throat impatiently, guiding all of you below deck, where there’s a hallway with doors on each side. He walks to one at the end of the hallway and opens it for you. “This will be your home for the rest of our journey.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, ducking into the room, and is followed by you and Yeosang. The room is nothing special and is pretty empty save for the two bunk beds and a couch on the other side. The only thing that adds to the beauty of the room is the small windows. Curious about the view, you walk over, taking in the vast expanse of the dark sea in front of you.

“Listen,” Yunho’s voice cuts through the silence, and all of you look at him in curiosity. “Hongjoong may have agreed to whatever this alliance is, but I don’t have to like it. I will keep my eyes on you all the time.”

“Is that a threat?” Yeosang questions, leaning back against one of the bunk beds. His countenance screams casual, but you don’t need to know him well to hear the dangerous undercurrent of his words.

“Consider it a warning. Do something weird, and I won’t hesitate to hurt you.” With that, the first mate shuts the door. In the silence of the room, you can hear the tapping of his boots on the wood fade in the distance.

“He doesn’t like us much, does he?”

You look at Seonghwa incredulously before bursting into laughter.

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#outlaw/The Ring #ateez #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #fluff #angst #eventual smut #slow burn #fantasy #pirate ateez #ateez fanfic #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #cromernet

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gothcsz · 5 days

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VI.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The highly anticipated state fair performance. Here's what I envision Paloma singing: Gunpowder & Lead - Miranda Lambert, One Way or Another - Blondie, Poor, Poor Pitiful Me - Linda Ronstadt, Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks.

WORD COUNT: 8k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: The interrupted right before kissing trope is strong with this one, i think most of this is considered fluff, they're still pining after one another, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: as promised, here's the other chapter for the week! i had so much fun writing this and expanding on their dynamic omg… first of all a little commotion for miss paloma…. the icon that she is! also couldn't help myself by having javi wear that sexy ass blue shirt in this… he is just so handsome… i need him BIBLICALLY i fear! i hope you guys enjoy reading, i have so much planned for this fic and it's going to get really messy here soon (: i might even post a lil moodboard for it. anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Finally , it’s the day of her long awaited state fair performance and Paloma is absolutely overflowing with anticipation, her energy bounding through the house like a whirlwind.

The night before was a restless blur, nerves and excitement intertwining to steal away her sleep.

She had read a variety newspaper articles to get more information on the fair itself. She uncovered the staggering scope of its annual attendance; a revelation that both fueled her trepidation and determination.

Her heart pounded like distant drums as the reality set in: hundreds, no, thousands of eyes would be fixed upon her. The prospect thrilled her to her core, igniting a fiery passion within, yet it also stirred a profound stage fright.

Rarely does she feel said stage fright; memory of her last instance likely dating back to when she was fourteen, trembling as she took the stage at The Whiskey Fox for the very first time. Since then, her journey has been a voyage of calm seas, and now, as she's grown into her own, Paloma is enveloped in a sense of serene confidence.

It’s understandable that she’s apprehensive about transitioning from a smaller venue to a stage at a grander event. There’s a tinge of sadness in her heart knowing that her father wouldn’t be there to accompany her. He’s witnessed her artistic evolution firsthand and has always been her staunchest supporter. Her number one fan.

Unfortunately, duty calls and with Jessica Valdez still missing; he was needed here.

On the other hand, Javier’s presence was not as essential, and Romeo practically burst with joyful relief when Paloma revealed that the deputy sheriff would be her companion all the way to Dallas.

Just as she had expected.

Earlier in the morning, before heading off to the station, the sheriff had popped into her bedroom to wish her luck. With a tender gaze, he doted on his daughter, expressing his his pride in her and, in his own unique manner, even offered a subtle apology for his recent behavior. As always, she embraced his understanding with ease, and in that moment, the weight of apprehension that had been bearing down on her lifted, replaced by a sense of relief and reassurance.

She’s currently stationed in her bedroom, sitting at her vanity and meticulously rolling her thick locks into velvety coils that she intends to keep in place throughout the entire four-hour journey to the city. Her face is bare, body clad in a tank top and shorts and she doesn’t plan on doing much to her appearance until they make it to the fairgrounds.

As a soft rumble fills the air, she casts a glance out of her bedroom window, her lips curling into a smile at the sight of Javier's truck rolling into view.

Fuck , she reflects on the unexpected bravery it took to ask him to join her. While her primary concern was appeasing her father, she also couldn't deny the allure of spending time with him.

Despite her bold and flirtatious gestures, Paloma is sure that if the opportunity to actually fuck him ever arose, she would be overcome with nervousness. Don’t get her wrong; she longs to indulge her selfish desires and surrender to him completely. Yet, the thought of not meeting his expectations casts a shadow of doubt.

Oh, for fucks sake, Paloma–– when have you ever cared about living up to a man's expectations?

She scoffs at herself, bobby pin between her teeth as she rushes down the stairs to answer Javier’s knocking.

“ I am on time, right? ” He quips, his voice carrying a playful tone from the other side of the screen door since the wooden door that usually blocks it is wide open.

“ Sure are. I’m the one that's runnin’ behind. Don’t worry–– just gotta get my damn hair rolled up and we'll be ready to go. You can come in. ” She motions for him to enter, pausing in the hallway that stretches toward the foyer. She steals a moment to glance at her reflection in the mirror, deftly sliding the bobby pin into her hair to secure the roller in place.

As Javier crosses the threshold, the screen door emits a reluctant groan, briefly stirring the awareness that they are alone once more in the house. However, her attention remains steadfast on ensuring her hair is perfectly secured, leaving no room for weariness to take hold.

His gaze lingers on her figure, igniting a gentle flush that spreads across her cheeks and down her neck as she becomes acutely aware of the extent of her attire’s exposure. The lack of a bra allows her breasts to sway with every subtle movement, her nipples prominent against the fabric.

“ Need help gettin’ anything into the car, nena ? ” With a casual lean against the wall where the mirror hangs, he directs his question to her. In response, her eyes momentarily flicker towards him, a subtle effort evident in her attempt to prevent her blush from deepening any further.

“ Yeah, it’s all in my room. ” She spins on her heel, striding towards the stairs, with him silently shadowing her steps. The realization dawns on her that he will soon enter her room, prompting her eyes to widen in alarm as she takes in the chaotic scene before her— it looks like a fucking tornado has run through the space.

She doesn't have any time to block him from seeing it though, and she bites down on her tongue and mentally curses herself for not cleaning up as she got ready.

Though considering how frantic she’s been all morning, of course she hadn't stopped to think about tidying up.

“ Sorry for the mess… it’s been a morning. ” She grumbles and Javier can't help but be amused.

Surveying the room from the doorway, he takes in the entirety of the space, his broad figure remaining at the threshold. Posters adorn the walls in a scattered mosaic, each a testament to her eclectic tastes. From the timeless allure of Dolly Parton to the ethereal melodies of Fleetwood Mac and the vibrant rhythms of Donna Summer. Their presence doesn't surprise him. Instead, they offer a window into her personality, providing insight into her passions and preferences.

Javier tries not to analyze her by the things she has in her bedroom, yet he finds himself irresistibly drawn in.

It’s a facet of his innate curiosity.

He notices the scattered articles of clothing, a digital piano tucked away in the distant corner, and her bed left invitingly tousled and he can't help but imagine how soft her sheets must be, laced with the natural smell of her.

Amidst the wall space left by absent posters, her bedroom is adorned with an array of framed personal photographs, each encapsulating cherished memories from childhood whimsy to high school triumphs, and all the moments in between.

Yet, it’s the family portrait resting atop her vanity that draws Javier’s eye. He strains to decipher the intricate details of the photograph from where he stands, its contents obscured by the tilt of the frame.

Paloma, attuned to his intense focus, trails his gaze, her stomach tightening at the realization.

Oh.

“ Here, it's my makeup bag and outfit. Please be careful taking this down. I spent all morning ironing it. ” In an effort to divert his attention from the photograph, Paloma passes him her belongings. He carefully examines her features in an attempt at finding reason for her reaction, a half smile tugging at his lips.

“ So bossy, hermosa . Don't worry–– your things are in capable hands. ” He is reluctant to depart, preferring to linger and observe her as she completes her preparations, all the while mentally dissecting her character through the lens of her bedroom’s decor.

“ Sorry, I’m just nervous. ” She confesses, making her way back to her dresser, inconspicuously moving the photo of her, her mother and father out of the way as she returns to the tedious task of curling then rolling her hair.

“ You'll be fine. Pressure can either crush you or make you shine brighter. Let it be the latter. And hey, no matter what happens tonight–– I'll be right there cheering you on. ” The reassurance flows from him without much thought, a rare occurrence for this man who typically struggles with offering comfort. There's a naturalness to it, as if they’re drawn from some deep wellspring within him, bypassing the usual barriers of hesitation and uncertainty.

Paloma, sensing the sincerity in his gaze reflected back at her through the mirror, finds herself caught in the spell of his eyes. In that fleeting connection, she grants him a tender smile, her heart responding to his unspoken affection.

Unsurprisingly, the words bring her some ease, especially since she’s aware of how difficult it can be for him to muster up any type of verbal compassion. He’s a man of few words, after all, so each one carries extra weight when they escape his lips.

“ Thanks, cowboy, M’grateful for your support… and y’know, for taggin’ along even though you didn't have to. ” He nods at her, letting the comfortable silence speak for itself as she continues to get ready.

He senses the underlying urgency within her. Experience whispers caution in his ear, reminding him of the cardinal rule gleaned from years of female companionship: never incur their wrath while they are in the midst of getting ready. And so, he tears himself away, surrendering to the unspoken dictates of the feminine domain.

–––––––––––––––––––

They're just thirty minutes away from their destination, yet she remains fixated on the changing landscape outside the window. Her claim of not leaving seminary in over a decade rings true, evident in the awe reflected in her eyes at the sight of skyscrapers and influx of people.

Javier can’t help but find her genuine amazement endearing, particularly as she gazes out with her hair pinned up stylishly, secured by a silk scarf. The journey to Dallas spans four hours, but the lively conversation between them makes the time fly by, rendering the trip far shorter than it actually is.

Their growing closeness feels like a beautiful risk as they delve deeper into each other's lives with every passing mile.

“ Y'know, I actually do know some Spanish. ” she remarked, drumming her fingers lightly against her thigh.

“ I had a hunch when you never asked me to translate my sweet talking. ” With an arrogant smirk, he looks over at her.

His smirk has her playfully rolling her eyes, “ No puedo leer o escribir tan bien, pero entiendo y hablo en forma conversacional. (I can't read it or write it very well, but I understand it and speak conversationally.)” In a tender twist, her voice took on a sweeter tone in the other language, prompting Javi to shift in his seat, attempting to refrain from envisioning the enchanting timbre of her words whispered intimately in the quiet sanctuary of his sheets.

“ Tu acento (Your accent) … Argentinian? ” He's got a real talent for picking up languages and accents, honed through his international collaborations in the field.

Paloma just shrugged, “ Your guess is as good as mine. My momma taught me and she never really talked about her life before meetin' daddy and stuff. I never really asked questions. After she passed, I didn't keep up with it as much as I should have. ”

The pauses in their conversation are rare, occurring only when the topics of family or his experiences in Colombia arise. Javier notices her keen interest in these subjects, her curiosity palpable. While he has been guarded about delving into anything beyond surface-level details, he finds himself gradually warming up to the notion of sharing a glimpse of his past with her, if only to satisfy her insatiable curiosity.

Yet, he holds back. This wasn’t the time. He wasn't about to cast a shadow over her spirits.

“ I can’t believe this is happening. ”

Paloma disrupts the tranquil hush that had settled between them, her fascination with the scenery outside pulling her into the moment.

“ Well, believe it cariño because we're not too far from the fairgrounds. ”

“ It’s like... a dream. I know, I might sound naive and childish gettin' this worked up about performing at a damn fair. It just means a lot to me. I’ve poured my heart into my music for so long and to see it culminate in this moment is just... thrilling . ”

A pang of longing for her mother’s presence washes over her, silently echoing within her thoughts. Yet she refrains from uttering the sentiment aloud, keeping her yearning hidden beneath a veil of silence.

“ It’s a big and well deserved step forward, Paloma. ” He pauses briefly, looking over at her, “ This means the world to you. You’re going to be amazing. ”

Javier's hand, warm and reassuring, gently finds hers, creating a tender connection that sends a surge of warmth coursing through her veins. The soft brush of his skin against hers ignites a gentle flutter in her chest, stirring feelings she doesn’t want to admit. It’s as if a silent symphony plays between their touch, drawing her attention away from the captivating scenery outside and directing it towards him.

With a soft, almost imperceptible smile, she meets his gaze, finding a silent reassurance and a flicker of something more lingering in his brown eyes.

Arriving at their designated area, meticulously mapped out in a thorough letter sent by Wendy to Paloma, she eagerly jumps out of his truck, bubbling with excitement, while he indulgently rolls his eyes at her enthusiasm.

Delighted to find the band already present and nearly done with setup, she breezes towards them despite her ridiculous appearance, exuding a radiant glow that outshines any imperfection. Her infectious happiness spreads like wildfire as she enthusiastically runs through the rundown of the gig with the group.

Javier stays out of the way, leaning against the bed of his truck.With a cigarette between his fingers and wisps of smoke curling into the air, he drifts into introspection

His mind becomes a labyrinth of memories, weaving through the tapestry of his past—the triumphs and tribulations, the moments of light and shadow. Amidst the haze of contemplation, he finds clarity in the decision that brought him to this juncture: the choice to refrain from confronting the Cali cartel.

Having spent years evading the ordinary, Javier stumbles upon an unforeseen refuge in monotony. With the weight of his taxing agent job finally lifted, he embraces the simplicity of everyday life with a newfound sense of relief.

As the days pass, Javier slowly discovers a peace he has long evaded, savoring the quiet moments that once seemed dull.

He finds himself drifting into a restful slumber, albeit for a few hours, a small victory against the insomnia that consistently torments him. In the gentle rhythm of routine, he begins to rediscover himself, finding solace in the tranquility he once feared.

While the looming homicide cases in Seminary present formidable challenges, each one a puzzle demanding his attention, he approaches them with a newfound confidence. It’s a stark contrast to the uncertainty that had clouded his final days in Colombia.

However, amidst this newfound tranquility, there persists a secret too delicate to utter aloud. His ongoing infatuation with Paloma, a woman whose presence has become both a source of comfort and turmoil. He won’t acknowledge that her presence in his life plays a significant role in his newfound ability to cope. Such complexities are best left uncharted, buried beneath the surface of their convoluted relationship.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Javier doesn’t notice when Paloma approaches him.

“ M’gonna go get ready. Sure you can survive a few hours without me? ” She teases him and he exhales the smoke away from her, the sunglasses on his face masking the adoration gleaming in his eyes.

“ I think I should be asking you that question, palomita . ” The new term of endearment sends her heart aflutter, and she can't help but feel how it resonates more when Javier says it in Spanish compared to when August had uttered it in English..

Little dove.

“ In that case, no, I’d simply crumble without you. ” She over exaggerates her words, punctuating them with playful gestures and a touch of dramatic flair.

Their laughter intertwines, and her smile blooms into a radiant expression of affection.

“ Órale nena , go get ready before you're late to your own performance. ” Javier indulges in another puff of his cigarette, and like the good girl she is, she saunters around the truck to fetch her belongings before heading off to the portable trailer, her makeshift dressing room.

In Paloma’s absence, he engages in conversation with the band members. Comprising three men and one woman, they share with him the story of how they met and how Paloma reignited their passion for music. The narrative resonates with her persona and innate ability to effortlessly charm those in her presence.

Javier an unsuspecting victim of this crime.

When the sun begins to set, he looks down at his watch to check the time as her lively voice draws near.

“ Alright, y'all, how do I look? ”

Javier's gaze alighted upon her, it was as if the world around him faded into insignificance, leaving only her radiant presence to fill his senses. His breath caught in his chest, suspended in the awe that washes over him like a gentle tide. In the depths of his soul, a symphony of emotions stirred, each note resonating with the profound beauty that she effortlessly embodies.

She beams with pride at the ensemble she’s meticulously curated.

A crimson leather corset embraces her waist with finesse, fashioned in the likeness of a halter top, baring her shoulders and presenting a tantalizing canvas of skin for all eyes to see. Her cleavage commands attention, accentuated by her mother’s cross pendant nestled against her breasts. She had transformed a pair of aged low-rise jeans, adding intricate rhinestone patterns promised to dance enchantingly under the glare of the stage lights.

The buckle on her belt is beautiful and distinguishable, an important accessory down here in Texas; she’s made sure that her boots match her attire.

Her hair cascades in perfect waves, thick and luscious, framing her face with a touch of effortless glamor. It’s been a long time since she’s had a full face of makeup on, and the strip lashes are uncomfortable against the sensitive skin but beauty is pain and goddamnit she’s stunning .

She feels the part of a super star, and her band members do nothing but boost her ego as they begin to shower her in compliments and friendly catcalls. She indulges them with a twirl, allowing them to admire her outfit from every angle.

Javier stays silent, dumbfounded entirely by how fucking hot she looks.

“ I think I just saw a horsefly fly into his mouth. �� One of the bandmates teases and this has Javier snapping out of it, meeting Paloma's expectant gaze.

For a man who always has something to say, especially in the company of beautiful women, he finds himself at a loss for words.

“ You look gorgeous, querida . ”

She blushes, murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ as her eyes momentarily flicker down to her square-toed boots. It’s exasperating how easily he can get her flustered. The compliment isn’t extravagant, yet it strikes her deeply nonetheless.

She won’t admit that the extra effort she invested in her appearance tonight was not just for the event; but also for him . She is aware that Javier finds her attractive and it harbors this desire to unveil a new facet of her beauty to him so he can see all the types of beautiful she can be.

As the rest of the group disperses to squeeze in some last minute warm ups, Paloma saunters toward him. Her hands rest confidently on her hips as his gaze traverses the curves of her form, unabashed and unapologetic.

“ I’m serious. You look hot and I know you’ll look even better when you’re up there doin’ what you’re so passionate about. ” His words have her heart racing, igniting a kaleidoscope of fireworks that burst with intensity within her core.

“ You're quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“ Only when I’m around someone as captivating as you. ”

Fuck.

“ Flattery will get you everywhere , you know. ”

“ Is that so? ” With a contemplative tilt of his head, he gazes at her, his aviators now absent, allowing her to lose herself in the depths of his captivating eyes. “ Well, in that case, I’ll have to keep it coming. After all, I can’t resist making a beautiful woman smile. ”

They stand toe to toe, Paloma tilting her chin upward to meet his gaze while Javier gently inclines his head downward to meet her eyes.

As he looks down at her, the thought of planting a gentle kiss on her lips, a token of good luck, flits through his mind. Just as the impulse begins to take hold, fate intervenes and Paloma is called to the stage, leaving their moment suspended in anticipation.

“ Break a leg, palomita . ” He tells her, stepping back so she can make her way up the steps.

–––––––––––––––––––

It is both everything yet nothing she expected.

As she ascended the stage, she discerned a comforting familiarity: the typical audience size from her usual gigs back home. This recognition alone served as a balm to her nerves, reassuring her that she could handle it.

It felt decidedly manageable. Yet, as the performance progressed, the crowd swelled to such a density that individual faces blurred into an indistinguishable mass, a sea of humanity stretching before her.

With every fiber of her being, she poured herself into that performance, channeling raw emotion and passion into each note. This may very well be her first and last time gracing an event this grand, and she was determined to leave an indelible mark.

As the music swelled and her voice soared, she ignited a fire within the hearts of her audience, each chord resonating with an intensity that transcends mere sound. This wasn’t just a performance; it was a cathartic release, a testament to her skills.

It is no surprise that the crowd was thoroughly charmed and entertained beyond measure.

As the final note faded into the night, she knew she’d given it her all, leaving nothing but her heart and soul on that stage.

As she reaches the familiar backstage area where they had spent the entire afternoon, she exudes palpable excitement, practically launching herself into Javier’s awaiting embrace. He catches her with ease, sensing the electrifying energy coursing through her as her arms wrap tightly around him in a warm hug. With her legs securely wrapped around his waist, he spins her around in a joyful twirl before gently lowering her back to the ground, their shared enthusiasm filling the air with an infectious energy.

“ You did so good, hermosa . ” Javier gazes warmly at her, his lips curved in a genuine smile.

“ That was so exhilarating, holy shit! ” The explicits fly from her lips and this only deepens his amusement, his heart warmed by her spirited expression.

“ Like, I almost blacked out out of excitement. ” Paloma inhales deeply, her chest expanding and contracting with each breath, her heart pounding so vigorously it feels as if it might leap from her chest at any moment.

The rest of the band gathers around, exchanging congratulations and warm embraces. Paloma takes a moment to express her heartfelt gratitude, her voice tinged with sentimentality as she thanks them for steadfastly supporting her seemingly silly musical aspirations.

“ Oh, that reminds me, ” She breaks away from the small group, strolling over to Javier's truck. Retrieving her purse, she rummages inside and retrieves a disposable camera she had brought along for the occasion. “ Can you take a picture of us? ” She asks with a gentle pout, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at Javier.

“ ‘Course.” Javi readily accepts the camera from her hand wordlessly and steps back to make sure they’re all in frame. He snaps the photo, the flash is blinding for the split second it appears before he hands her back the camera.

“ Gracias cowboy. ”

Her voice carries a delightful sweetness tinged with playful flirtation and a touch of eager anticipation that has him feeling like a lovestruck fool.

The band leaves to head back home, the sun now fully settled as Javier and Paloma remain. Their figures casually propped against his truck, casting a relaxed silhouette against the backdrop of the vibrant fair lights sprawled out before them.

“ We should get going–– ”

“ You're kidding, right? ” Paloma interrupts, leveraging herself off the hood of the truck with a fluid motion, positioning herself directly in his line of sight. Her hands find their place firmly on her hips, projecting an aura of assertiveness.

“ No…? ” He says unsurely, his gaze sweeping over her form from head to toe.

“ I haven’t been to the fair since I was a kid. I just have to ride one ride... and indulge in some fried goodness... and maybe try one of those tricky carnival games, ” She shares eagerly, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

She gazes at him with those bewitching eyes of hers, he silently curses himself for knowing he’ll give in.

“ I dunno, princesa , it’s getting pretty late… ” Fighting a fight he knows he’ll lose, he still moves forward with his opposition. The least desirable outcome from staying late would be facing an irate sheriff questioning why his daughter returned home in the dead of night instead of the earlier time she’d promised.

“ Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud. We’re allowed to have fun every once and a while. If it’s my daddy you're worried about; he’ll get over it. ” Paloma draws nearer to him, her hands delicately clasped behind her back, the enchanting fusion of her perfume and her innate scent enthralls him completely.

Javier can't help but surrender to her charm.

“ Fine . ”

A large smile spreads on her crimson tinted lips and she squeals, clapping her hands together before tugging him in the direction of the bustling fair.

–––––––––––––––––––

Their night out together comes with an unforeseen touch of spontaneity. The first thing Paloma does is drag him over to a food stand where she proceeds to order a funnel cake, fried oreos and two way too large lemonades.

“ Fried oreos? ” His nose scrunches at the idea which earns him a soft slap to the arm.

“ They are quite literally the best damn thing to ever be invented. ” She defends the unhealthy snack, reaching into her bag to pull out money to pay but Javier stops her before she gets the chance to.

As he smoothly glides a bill across the counter, Paloma feels a warm flush creep up her cheeks at the simple gesture. A flicker of uncertainty dances in her mind as she ponders the significance of this moment—is it possible that this is... a date?

No , certainly it isn’t. It’s an outing between two friends. He is just being a gentleman and paying for their food. No big deal, right?

In the quiet recesses of her mind, she revisits their flirty exchange shared just moments before she took the stage and the gentle display of affection that followed after her performance had concluded.

Don't overthink it, Paloma, just enjoy the moment.

So, she pushes all those thoughts aside as they patiently wait for their order.

“ I'll be the judge of that. ” He grumbles with his arms folded protectively across his chest.

Paloma finds herself entranced by the sight of him. His torso is adorned in a brightly colored blue shirt that accentuates his handsome features paired with jeans that cling to him sinfully tight. She marvels at how effortlessly he pulls off this 70s-inspired ensemble, a testament to his unique charm and allure. It’s just one more reason among many why she finds him so irresistibly attractive.

Their order number is called and they swiftly collect their things, moving over to an empty picnic table and sitting across from each other.

“ Alright, be prepared to have your mind blown. ” She plucks one of the golden-fried treats from the paper tray and slides the remainder enticingly across the table to him.

Javier eyes the dessert carefully before picking one up and observing it.

“ There is no way this is good for you. ” He remarks skeptically.

“ It's not supposed to be good for you it's supposed to taste good. ” Paloma counters, taking a bite and emitting a satisfied hum at the burst of flavor, “ If that's the case then you shouldn't smoke. There’s no way cigarettes are good for you . ” She mocks him, a playful glint in her eye as he scoffs in response.

Following her lead, he gingerly takes a bite, his brow furrowing at the unexpected taste.

“ Absolutely not, ” He declares, confirming his verdict with a decisive shake of his head.

“ Oh, you are so lame. ” They laugh and she drags the tray over to her side, “ Whatever, more for me. Just please don’t tell me you’re a funnel cake hater too. ” She plops another one into her mouth, her gaze fixated on him and eyes gleaming playfully.

“ Rest assured I’m not a funnel cake hater. It was my favorite growing up. Haven’t had one in ages. ” Now that, Javier easily snacks on as they seamlessly weave through conversations, trading tales of cherished childhood snacks.

Once they finish, he gathers their garbage and goes to dispose of it in a bin nearby. Upon his return to the table, his eyes sweep the surroundings, only to discover that they are no longer in solitude; a small group of individuals has gravitated towards Paloma, eager to engage her in conversation.

Amidst their conversation, he catches fragments of praise floating in the air, surmising that they must be members of the audience who had seen her perform not too long ago.

His suspicions are proven right once they leave and she turns to him with a bright smile.

“ Looks like I’m not your only groupie anymore. ”

“ Oh don't be jealous. You'll always be my favorite. ” As she rises from her seat to join him, he gently intercepts, his gaze fixating on a subtle trace of powdered sugar lingering at the corner of her lips.

“ Hold on… ” He murmurs, stepping closer to her, bringing his thumb up to his lips then wiping away at the spot.

A shiver dances down her spine, her breath catching in her throat as his seemingly simple gesture sends waves of arousal rippling through her. He is driving her crazy .

“ I–– thank you. ” She blushes, “ Oh man, that means I had a whole conversation with food on my face. ” Slightly embarrassed, she slaps her palm against her forehead and he chuckles at her.

“ There are worst things to be embarrassed over. ” He shrugs and she nods,“ So , what now miss I absolutely have to stay and enjoy the fair . ” Javier teases, as they begin to walk around the fairgrounds.

Paloma rolls her eyes, “ You're like an insufferable child. ” She can't help but comment, eyeing some of the rides until she spots the drop tower. “ Ooh, let's do that one. ” She practically races over to the large structure, leaving Javi behind.

“ Who's the child now? ” He murmurs to himself, trailing after her.

Standing in line together, they exchange playful jabs at the people around them in whispered tones. For the first time in a very long time, Javier finds himself genuinely laughing.

“ We have to get on the pendulum ride after this. Oh, and the gravitron. I also really like those spinny swings. ” As she rambles on about her beloved rides, his gaze lingers on her radiant beauty. Particularly since she’s adorned with an enchanting smile and enveloped in laughter. With each joyful expression, Javier feels a familiar tug at his heartstrings, the same irresistible pull he’s been steadfastly pushing aside since their very first encounter.

This is definitely more than just some sexual infatuation. The revelation that he harbors genuine feelings for Paloma weighs heavily in his chest. In that moment of clarity, he understands the need to consider stepping back, for the well-being of them both.

He doesn't want to hurt her.

But for tonight, Javier will let himself enjoy her company and everything that entails to. He grants himself this rare luxury under the guise that it’s for her sake.

“ You're ambitious tryin’ to get on all these rides, querida . Gonna end up puking all your precious fried oreos out. ” They’re at the front of the line now, and as Javier makes his remark, one of the exiting patrons from the ride hurls over and throws up in a nearby bin.

Both Javier and Paloma share a look before breaking out into a harmonious laugh. Paloma finds herself yearning to capture this perfect moment, to preserve its essence in the confines of a frame, forever etched in her memory.

“ Impeccable timing, vaquero . ” They board the ride together, sitting right next to one another and she swings her legs softly as the attendant comes around to make sure they're strapped in properly.

“ I’ve done a lotta dangerous shit in my life but riding one of these seems to be at the top of the list. ” Javier tells her as they begin their ascend to the top.

“ Don’t tell me a little fair ride is more dangerous than an armed drug dealer. ”

“ Drug dealers are predictable. Fair rides aren’t–– how can you actually trust somethin’ that’s disassembled, packed away then rebuilt elsewhere. How are you so sure they build it adequately each time? You’ve seen the people who run this. It’s sketchy. ”

“ Sounds like you're scared. Don't be scared, Javi. Here–– you can hold my hand. ” She extends her hand, reaching out to gently grasp his, intertwining their fingers and applying a tender squeeze. He's not scared he’s just weary, but feeling the weight of her hand in his is enough to fizzle those inconvenient thoughts away as they’re suspended in the air for what feels like forever before they finally drop.

Paloma releases a delighted squeal, erupting into a chorus of giggles as they reach the base of the ride. “ See? That wasn’t too bad. The ride didn’t collapse and we live to see another day. ” With a final squeeze, she relinquishes his hand and they get off the ride swiftly.

Similar scenarios unfold as they explore the other attractions; their banter punctuated by playful jabs at the people in line and Javier meticulously dissects the safety measures (or lack thereof) of each attraction. Despite his scrutiny, he finds himself thoroughly enjoying the experience alongside Paloma.

As they stroll through the carnival game section, Javier’s eyes light up as he catches sight of a tacky looking plush snake, swiftly diverting Paloma’s attention towards it.

“ Isn't that your favorite thing in the world? ” He teases, feigning curiosity, earning an eye roll from Paloma as she playfully pinches his forearm.

“ Not a fan of real snakes and reptiles, you goof, ” She retorts with a grin. “ But I’ve got nothing against a cute little stuffed animal like that. ”

“ Do you want it? ” He asks, gravitating towards the stand and she follows.

“ What, are you gonna win it for me? ” She questions with a flirtatious lilt, twirling a lock of her hair as she raises her eyebrows, a playful sparkle dancing in her chocolate brown eyes.

“ I will, if you want it. ”

“ If I want it that means you have to win it. And you know what they say about these games… ”

Their banter continues as they approach the stand. Javier reads that it’s a baseball toss bottle game and he smiles cockily.

“ What do they say? ”

“ They're rigged and impossible to win. ”

“ Well lucky for you, nena , I've got the best arm in Laredo. ”

Paloma’s interest is piqued, her head tilting slightly as she observes him. “ You play baseball? ” She asks, her tone curious and attentive.

Javier hands over payment to the teenager tending to the stand, effortlessly cradling three baseballs in one hand. This has Paloma licking her lips.

Her gaze is drawn to the rugged contours and sinewy strength, imagining the delicious weight of them against her skin. There's an electric charge in the air, sending shivers of anticipation cascading down her spine.

“ I did. All the way through college. ” Oh she can see him now, clad in those tight baseball uniforms. She bets his ass looks amazing in the pants.

“ The more you know. ” She muses, “ But that was like, all the way back when baseball was first invented. ” She patronizes him, never getting tired of making jokes about his age.

“ Ha, ha. So funny and original. ”

“ Alright darlin’ enough yappin’, let's see Laredo’s best . ” She's fully expecting him to fumble, honestly.

Javier rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms, and Paloma's eyes linger on the way his shirt molds to his defined muscles with each movement. His broad shoulders and flexing biceps command her attention as he effortlessly pulls his arm back and throws the ball with graceful ease.

In one fluid motion, he knocks down all the bottles.

A satisfied smirk graces his lips as he turns to meet Paloma's gaze.

“ Told you. ”

She lets out a low whistle, clapping her hands together in a slow applause. “ Alright, I stand corrected. ” she admits with a smile.

The worker hands Javier the stuffed animal, and he extends it towards her.

“ For you. ”

“ Such a gentleman. ” She murmurs softly, pulling the prize close to her chest. The sight of her holding it with such tenderness is one that will linger in his memory for days to come.

“ Oh shit. ” She begins, a hint of dismay in her tone, but his concern melts away as she retrieves her camera from her bag. “ Forgot to take more pictures. Do you mind gettin’ one with me? ” There's a hint of shyness in her request, and he shakes his head.

“ Don’t mind at all, cariño . ” He assures her with a warm smile.

She returns his smile and proceeds to ask the teenager at the stand to take their photo, who obliges, undoubtedly persuaded by her beauty.

“ Alright we’ll do a smiley one then a silly one. ” She suggests, stepping back to Javier's side and leaning against him, her eyes sparkling as they prepare to capture the moment.

He doesn’t pose, instead, he gazes at her admiringly, wondering how he’ll summon the courage to distance himself from her after tonight.

Paloma tilts her head to meet his gaze after the photos are taken, mirroring the affection in his eyes before stepping away to retrieve her camera.

Javier clears his throat, the sound breaking the carnival’s cheerful din as he glances down at his watch. The hands inch towards midnight, a reminder of the impending end to their evening. “ Los tenemos que ir (we have to go), ” He says softly, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance.

She pouts slightly, pursing her bottom lip.“ One more ride, please Javi. We didn’t get on the ferris wheel. ”

As he’s done all night, Javier acquiesces, unable to resist her earnest plea. “ You are a very persistent and spoiled little thing, ” He remarks, a fondness lacing his words. Her playful smile transforms into a devious smirk at his observation.

“ Thank you. ” She replies, gaze coated with mischief.

The bench-style seating on the ferris wheel feels snug, their bodies nestled close together as the metal bar rests across their laps.

Despite the attendant’s insistence that she couldn’t bring it on the ride, Paloma clung to the plush snake he’d won for her as she (politely) told him to fuck off.

At first, silence envelops them, the rhythmic creaking of the wheel the only sound as they ascend to the pinnacle of the ride. Lost in their own thoughts, they share a quiet intimacy, their hearts beating in synchrony.

The fair lights twinkle and sway, casting an enchanting glow upon Paloma’s face. In that moment, bathed in the ethereal illumination, her beauty is magnified.

“ What's goin' on inside that pretty head of yours? ” Javier breaks the quiet between them, and she turns her head to meet his gaze.

“ Tonight has been one of the best nights I’ve had in a while... and you’re part of the reason. ” She confesses, her voice sincere, melting the barriers he’s long held onto.

“ It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you, palomita . ” He responds, his arm draped along the back of their seat. Unable to resist, she leans in closer, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

His smell envelops her, intoxicating her senses as she inhales the earthy musk of his cologne mingled with a hint of sweetness from their shared meal earlier.

“ I mean it, Javi. Ever since you came to Seminary my life has been a lot more… fun . ” She tells him earnestly, her voice barely above a whisper. Their proximity is electric, teetering on the edge of temptation, and her words only add fuel to the fire.

Her name escapes his lips like a solemn prayer, a gentle reminder of the boundaries they’re dancing dangerously close to. Their lips barely graze each other, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin above her lip, a silent testament to the unspoken desires lingering between them.

Suddenly, the ride lurches with an unexpected jolt, shattering the tender moment between them. Paloma swiftly withdraws, seeking whatever space their cramped confines afford her, her fingers clenching the metal bar for stability.

“ Told you I didn't trust these damn things. ” He mutters, his palm clammy as he rubs it against the coarse denim of his jeans. His throat tightens with a heavy swallow, the memory of their fleeting moment lingering in his mind like a fading dream.

Silence cloaks them like a heavy blanket for the remainder of the ride and even as they walk side by side to his truck.

No words pass between them.

Paloma leans against the window, mirroring her posture from the ride up, exhaustion seeping into her bones after the long day. She resists the urge to dwell on the events of the evening with Javier, instead surrendering to the pull of sleep. Her eyelids flutter closed, and soon, she drifts unconscious.

Javier steals a sideways glance at her, strands of hair cascading over her features like a veil. Amidst the quiet hum of the car, he catches the faint melody of her soft snores.

His shoulders slump in resignation as he replays their moment on the ferris wheel in his mind, each iteration leaving him more conflicted than before. Would they have shared a kiss if not for the technical issue?

He wants to believe they wouldn’t have; that he would have had the strength to pull away before it was too late. But the allure of her lips, the desire to taste her, lingers in his thoughts like an unshakeable temptation.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he wrestles with his inner turmoil for the duration of the journey back to Seminary.

–––––––––––––––––––

“ I'm still so upset I couldn’t go. It woulda been so fun. ” Sloane remarks from her spot on Paloma’s bed, idly flipping through a magazine while her friend meticulously applies nail polish.

Days have passed since the state fair, leaving Paloma and Javier in an awkward limbo. She despises the distance that has grown between them. How could she have been so foolish as to ruin their night by coming off as strong as she had? Everything had been going perfectly until then. Had she scared him off? Was his silence a sign of disinterest?

It's all so fucking confusing.

“ Uh, hello. Earth to Paloma. ” Slo snaps her fingers and this gets her attention, looking up from her hand to meet her friend's gaze.

“ Sorry, I wish you coulda been there too. ” She gives her a tight lipped smile and this has Sloane narrowing her eyes at her.

“ Alright, spill. What happened? ”

She snorts, shaking her head and returning to the task at hand. “ Nothin’ happened. ”

“ Lie to somebody who doesn’t know you. ” She shifts from her spot on the mattress, sprawling herself on the floor in front of Paloma.

She eyes her friend briefly before letting out a sigh and twisting the cap on the polish. “ Fine. I think I fucked things up between me and Javier. ”

That was certainly not what Sloane was expecting her to admit, but she’s intrigued nevertheless and she turns to lay on her side, head in her hand and elbow propping her up.

“ Don't tell me you slept with him. ”

Paloma's face flushes, despite having a plethora of erotic dreams starring the man in question, “ Wha–– No. I didn’t. Jesus… ” She mutters, attempting to blow the polish on her right hand dry. “ We actually had a great night. ” She can't help the small smile that plays on her lips at the remembrance of said night.

“ Okay… ” Sloane urges her to continue, “ For a songwriter you sure are a shit storyteller. ”

Paloma flips her off and Slo blows her a kiss, “ Things between us have always been flirty. It was fun at first, exhilaratin’ and what not. Then… feelings started developin’. I like him, Slo. Like him like him. ” It's the first time she's said this outloud and the confession has her feeling lightheaded.

“ Awe, my baby is growin’ up. She's got a crush. ” Her friend teases, poking at her exposed calf.

“ Yeah, well, I don’t even know if he feels the same way. I mean, at first I thought he did then I… we almost kissed on the ferris wheel and he hasn't talked to me since. ”

Sloane flashes her a sympathetic stare, “ Well he’s an idiot for not kissin’ you. Let’s start there. ” She sits upright, matching Paloma's stance, “ Are you really surprised? Not to burst your little schoolgirl crush bubble but it’s obvious what typa man he is. Flirty, handsome, charismatic. Sex on legs –– a long trail of broken hearts follow that man. C'mon, baby, you must know this. ”

Paloma is keenly aware of his reputation as a charming playboy, a fact that’s far from concealed. Now, she’s flooded with feelings of foolishness and embarrassment for how she had openly pursued him. It was almost inevitable; of course, he would reciprocate her advances. After all, what man could resist when a beautiful woman is vying for his attention?

The thought that he might have lost interest gnaws at her, causing an ache in her chest. Aside from all the romantic stuff, she genuinely enjoyed his company.

She chooses not to dwell further on the topic, and her friend seems to pick up on her reluctance.

In a sudden twist of conversation, Sloane announces, “ Guess who has a house now. ” Paloma’s attention perks up in surprise.

“ What, really? Since when? ” From what she knows, Sloane and a few others have been living long term at the only motel in town. They hadn’t intended on staying in Seminary very long which is why Paloma had gotten her the job at the bar in the first place, so she could save up some money to keep trekking.

Hearing that she now has an actual place to call home brings nothing but joy and excitement for her friend.

“ Since a few days ago. We've been so damn busy that I haven’t been able to tell you. Completely unexpected, too. Apparently some broad August used to know finally croaked and she left him with her entire estate. ”

Paloma's eyes widen at the news, “ Jeez, talk about impeccable timing. I'm glad y'all got it worked out. Now you’re stuck here with me. ” She jests, “ When can I visit? ”

Sloane taps the tip of her chin, “ What about tomorrow? It's about an hour drive from here–– ”

“ An hour?! ” Paloma interjects, incredulous.

“ –– and it’s beautiful . You’d love it. Don’t get hung up on somethin’ as trivial as travel time . ”

Sloane’s right, outside from the hub in town; their residence is situated in a predominantly rural expanse, making lengthy travel times like that unusual. And with her car now up and running, Paloma has a newfound sense of freedom to explore beyond their immediate surroundings.

“ Fine, tomorrow sounds good. You can stay the night and I’ll drive you there in the morning. ” She offers, prompting Sloane to break out into a giant grin.

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x ofc #preachers daughter #ethel cain #southern gothic fic

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arrolyn1114 · 7 months

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1 Year Anniversary "Why Can't You See What You're Doin' To Me?"

According to my AO3, tomorrow, Sept 20, will mark 1 year since I posted chapter 1 of this WIP. Crazy how time flew. When I first started, I thought it was probably going to be a one shot or maybe only a few chapters at most, I never thought it would be 36 chapters and counting. It's been quite a journey to say the least. Before Elvis busted through my writer's block last year, I had little faith in myself that I could write a long story with an intricate, detailed plot since I had been dealing with a long bout of awful writer's block. But, here we are, 1 year later and I have proven to myself that I can in fact write more than just short one shots.

I'm so thankful for every single one of my readers, y'all are amazing and wonderful. I have appreciated and loved every single bit of feedback/interaction that has been sent my way either on AO3 or on here whether it was kudos, likes, reblogs, comments, all of it. Feedback is what keeps us writers going, especially on the hard days where we struggle with self doubt or imposter syndrome. So thank you, thank you very much. ❤ And my quiet readers who might be shy or nervous to interact please know that I appreciate you just as much. I have been a quiet, shy reader too in the past so I understand and that's why ALL of my readers mean the world to me.

I've also been the shy, quiet writer and recently was dragged out of my hermit shell kicking and screaming (kidding, well, only a little kidding haha) and encouraged to be more social on here by some of my fellow amazing and talented writers in this fandom and for that I am so grateful. So thank you especially to @thatbanditqueen, @peskybedtime, @shakerattlescroll, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @from-memphis-with-love, @whositmcwhatsit for inviting me to participate in writing prompt games and just over all encouragement, y'all are MVPs. Also kudos to @shakerattlescroll 's Canva skills since she made the WIP's cover art.

All that said, once I have finished this WIP, I want to know how much interest there is in more stories with Elvis and my OC Jane. I have already done one for a writing prompt game and I had a lot of fun with that so I would love to do more. I know a couple of my readers have expressed interest in more stories as well. So dear readers, tell me:

(Reader tag list under the cut, as always, let me know if any changes or updates need to be made, thanks!)

@xanatenshi, @karel-in-wonderland, @peskybedtime, @alienelvisobsession, @shakerattlescroll, @deke-rivers-1957, @louisejoy86, @artlover8992, @windsofthesea, @gayforelvis, @elvispresleygf, @notstefaniepresley, @lovininapinkcadillac, @dkayfixates, @jaqueline19997, @presleyenterprise, @crash-and-cure, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @wildhorseinkansas, @tacozebra051, @lookingforrainbows, @kaitaesupremacy, @powerofelvis, @ashtag6887, @myradiaz, @richardslady121, @elvisrealgf, @genetakovicluvr, @thetaoofzoe, @lawdymissclawdy68

@j-v-9-2

@mspoisonivey

@aaron57070

@rainyday10-4

@rocknroll50sep

@dream-in-x-dream2

@sasural

@satisfy-the-crave

@velvetelvis

@sillybookmarks

@everythingelvispresley

@elvisgirly

@1dluver13xx

@thedaisymaisy

@amydarcimarie

@from-memphis-with-love

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #why can't you see what you're doin' to me #reader feedback #feedback is like Christmas morning seriously #fanfic is a community activity. its stories by a bonfire #reader poll #1 year anniversary

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marvelgaynesstothemax · 9 months

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So, I’ve started writing a fratt fanfic again…

This one I’m planning on making several chapters. It’s loosely based off of the Black Mirror episode “Men Against Fire”. You don’t have to of watched Black Mirror to understand the fanfic or anything, but it definitely has the same overall vibe and plot.

I’m not sure if I’m gonna put this on Ao3, I’m thinking that I’ll test it out on here to see what people think before outsourcing it more.

I don’t know how many chapters this is gonna be just yet, i have a sort of loose idea of where I wanna go with this and I’m still kinda laying out the groundwork… The first chapter is only 1388 words long but if all goes well I’m planning on making future chapters at least 3000.

I’ll put a small teaser in here and you guys lemme know if this looks like something you might be interested in reading:

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Noise floods Frank’s ear canals, a rapid crescendo of rhythm rushing like wind building in his head. It’s so loud, so fast that his beating pulse throbs and adds its own drumming to the prominent music.

Lines of bright light cut through the darkness, searing his eyes as the crowd in his head persists it’s racket. Slowly, gradually, the lines expand, the light encompassing his entire view. A blink of darkness, then back to the beaming of the outer world.

A barely audible hiss just barely reaches his ears, his lips chapped and dry beyond relief. He swipes his tongue out, feeling the flaking dead skin spread slightly under his cottony tongue. Blinking again, Frank becomes aware of the sheets draped over his body, a plush mattress cushioning his weight. He almost feels cradled by the softness of it, his joints heavy as he clenches his fingers a couple times. He’s stiff all over, his muscles shaky as he raises an arm up under the blanket to push it away. The air isn’t that much different when he brushes off the thin sheet, his skin actually appreciating the fresh air as it graces his features.

Where the fuck is he?

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I’m just gonna tag some people who gave me feedback on the last fanfic and other known writers in case this doesn’t reach enough people. I hope y’all don’t mind..? <3

@v4leoftears @sunflowersandsapphires @skelefrick @lady-of-dare @castlesnchurches @adevotedreader @thoughts-of-a-scoundrel

Also you can find all of my fanfic work under the tag fratt fic, in case y’all wanna take a look at my previous work. And if anybody wants a to be on a tag list if this fanfic does end up being posted let me know so I can tag you!

#let me know what y’all think #frank castle #punisher #daredevil #frankmatt #matt murdock #fratt fic #fratt #mine #fanfic help #fanfiction #new author #text post #gayshipsareyayships #frank castle x matt murdock

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theonlylivinggirlinseattle · 4 months

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Arlong x OC

I don’t have a working title for this story yet but here is the first part of chapter one. I’ll eventually post the full one to Ao3. Arlong has been my hyper fixation for a bit now 😅 and I decided to create a character that I think would compliment him nicely. Feedback and suggestions welcome! I don’t have the entirely of this story planned out yet but I have a good foundation. I’m still debating making his love interest a nurse shark or an oceanic white tip shark ( both are sharks that I find really neat). I’m also thinking about giving her a last name.

I typed this all up on my phone so there might be some mistakes.

Storm had a pretty normal life on Fishman Island until a horrible tragedy involving humans took the life of her parents as a teen. Ever since the incident Storm disliked humans and never wished to coexist happily with them. She had everything she could ever want on the island but she felt trapped and yearned to see what life was like on the surface. Storm was aware that fishmen were much stronger than the average human but still put in long hours in her training before heading to the surface. On the surface she faced the discrimination the merfolk talked about first hand making her heart grow cold.

I only own the OCs mentioned in the story

Warnings: none (so far)

Ch 1

It was a bright day on Fishman Island when Storm and her friend Kiki decided to go out for coffee and a stroll. Storm had just returned from her trip on the surface and wanted to spend more time at home before eventually going on another excursion.

She was a swordsman and had gained some attention for her skills and was fairly known on the island.

She caught Arlong’s attention right before she left the island two years ago and they've had a few interactions and flirty exchanges. Arlong even wanted her to join his crew but the timing was off and Storm wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment yet.

Storm and Kiki noticed a crowd forming and walked towards it only by to see Arlong holding a few papers above a small mermaid’s head. “Hey, is that that the sawfish guy you’re been seeing” Kiki whispered looking over at Storm. “There’s nothing between us it’s not like that!” Storm quickly responded. Storm saw the poor mermaid struggle to get her papers back and Storm felt like she needed to intervene.

“These papers aren’t going to change a damn thing!” Arlong laughed. Before Storm could say anything a guard started to run towards Arlong calling him a Fishman district reject. Without a second thought Arlong picks him by the neck. “Arlong! Let him go!” Storm yelled out. Arlong glances over and his eyes widen to see…her.

He hasn’t seen the shark woman in a while and as much as he would deny it he was glad to see her again.

Arlong has been with fishwomen and mermaids in the past and has always had a cocky attitude with them but with Storm he felt like he needed a different approach.

At first Arlong thought she was just a snobby privileged girl. She had the luxury of growing up with two parents in a better part of the island, but the more he got to know her he realized that she was not like what he imagined.

He was drawn to the shark woman and even admired her swordsmanship. Arlong had to have her on his crew. Besides he could never have too many fishmen who were skilled in combat.

“What are you doing picking on a rookie guard? Let him go it’s not worth it” Storm stepped out of crowd towards Arlong. Arlong smirked and threw the guard on the floor. Arlong lost complete interest in him and would much rather give Storm his attention.

Storm stood out amongst the crowd. Her long hair was neatly held back in a seashell clip and wore last nights eye makeup with a bare face. She was tall with a lean build and always carried around one of her swords at her hip.

Both Arlong and Storm didn’t realize that Jinbe was watching the whole scene. While Jinbe scolded Arlong Kiki ran up to Storm and grabbed her arm “ I promised Nora that I’d help her with something, I’ll see you tonight okay?” She said giving her a hug before heading home.

#arlong #arlong x oc #arlong pirates

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theonethatyaks93 · 1 year

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Character/Plot Notes for Upcoming Dark Pinky x Future Brain Fanfiction (+ a Preview!) (Also, Happy Dark Pinky Thursday!)

Hello everyone!! This is kind of new territory for me, but I'm excited to announce that my very first Dark Pinky x Future Brain fanfiction is currently in the works! And it's not just one fanfiction; it's an entire series that establishes my own universe. I've had this idea for a while, but after looking at the askdarkpinky blog and reading an unhealthy number of Dark Pinky fanfiction, I finally decided to put my concept to writing. I consider this to be a passion project of mine. It has changed quite a bit over the past few months, however, the core idea is still present: establish a Dark Pinky and Future Brain world and write an angsty, dark, and melancholy continuous story. The series will be titled Dark Future, and each separate fanfic will either be a one-shot or a multi-chapter. Some of these fics might even take on a different style such as first-person perspective or alternate/side characters getting the spotlight. I've only posted one fanfiction on AO3 before which is titled When He Loved Me (go check it out, but it's not the best as it was my first work). This will be better executed since I've been planning for longer. I usually do this kind of character analysis/plot analysis in privacy, so I can remember personalities and story beats while I work. Since this is a larger project and that it involves a few characters whom I've never worked with before, I wanted to post this publicly to gain feedback from you guys and to show everyone my ideas. Just a quick note; the preview will not reveal any major spoilers I have planned or character moments aside from setting up the plot. It's also very long and you don't have to read it. Also, this will be rated T for dark themes, light violence/implied violence, and some gore, albeit it's very brief and not graphic. Alright, let's begin!

Plot-Here's a basic, still in development, plot description for the entire series:

After a massive falling out, Future Brain abandons his former husband, Dark Pinky, and runs away to live a life of seclusion alongside his former adversary turned-friend, Julia. Dark Pinky spends years searching for his estranged partner, eventually seeking the help of the beautiful Billie to aid in his pursuit. Unfortunately, after Future Brain comes to a horrifying realization that his husband may cause the world to dissolve into disarray and ruin, he sets off to try and rekindle his relationship with Pinky. Meanwhile, Dark Pinky continues to attempt to find Brain in secret, while continuing to put up a threatening image in the public eye. However, an old foe is plotting to seek revenge on his mortal enemies once and for all. Dark Pinky and Future Brain must attempt to rebuild their rapport in order to gain back control of the world and to realize that certain past mistakes need to be fixed.

There are a lot more elements to this premise than what I've put here, including complex characters, side plots, and fanfictions entirely dedicated to the villains. This universe has a kind of grim origin story that I came up with back in late 2021. Here's a bit from the currently in progress first draft of the very start to this universe:

"The plan has been very dangerous, yet it succeeded with flying colors. The world was theirs in an instant. With one swift attack, the military was abolished, and the world leaders surrendered each country they had dominance over. Bloody corpses lined the streets in the days following, leaving the people of the planet in anguish. It was almost surreal how everything had panned out in the end. And at first, he was satisfied and had convinced himself that he was making Earth a better place for all. However, after the construction of their palace was completed and after the hundreds of private and public executions commanded by him were carried out, the ever-present feeling of dread began to take him day after day. Future Brain had convinced himself countless times that he was happy; though now, it was an almost impossible feat. These feelings of sorrow and shame wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard he tried."

A part that wasn't mentioned here that I want to say is that Dark Pinky and Future Brain didn't start off like this. The reason why they look so maniacal and off-putting is that it's a result of Brain's actions to world domination (to be discussed in an origin story). His plans become increasingly more dangerous as time passes, with him and Pinky receiving more serious injuries. Eventually, this constant barrage of pain, plus an electrical shock, causes Pinky's mind to deteriorate until he becomes Dark Pinky. He's now hyper-focused on world domination and Brain decides that taking a more violent path is the key to their success. Going by Future Brain, he and Dark Pinky launch a brutal attack on the world, causing it to fall into their grasp. But while Dark Pinky loves his new life as a ruler, Future Brain shows quite a bit of regret for his previous actions. This point of Brain hating the world he and Pinky have made is a massive plot point and it's what causes most of the tension in the series. There will be a lot of conflict between Dark Pinky and Future Brain, as they bicker over their different viewpoints. Brain is going to be very hard on himself here as he blames his actions for Pinky being changed. This is one of the reasons why he leaves Dark Pinky behind to live a life of seclusion. There will be a few references to episodes from the spin-off series since this universe takes place after the events of the 1995 show. Since this is an alternate universe, there will be very few or no references to the Animaniacs reboot considering this takes place during that time period.

Characters- There are quite a few recognizable faces here from other Dark Pinky x Future Brain universes, but there are also some new characters that are going to be incorporated. The list below only features the main characters or the ones that get more focus; some others will be getting mentioned or will have a brief cameo. The characters with significance include Dark Pinky, Future Brain, Snowball, Julia, Billie, Egwind and Romy. Their designs are either inspired by the designs from the askdarkpinky blog or are my own original creations. Some of their personalities have been altered such as an unusual character being made a major antagonist or Julia being Brain's closest confidant.

Locations- These are just a few ideas I had for possible major locations of the series:

Dark Pinky and Future Brain's Castle- The primary destination of the entire work, this palace is inspired by the look from the askdarkpinky blog, though it's a little larger. It's located in Washington D.C on the ruins of the White House. It's massive and features lots of rooms, a throne room, spaces for the soldiers, dungeons, and even a library/study room.

Acme Labs- Shuttered after Dark Pinky and Future Brain took over, the lab is abandoned and desolate. Access is restricted for anyone aside from officials. This also is the hideout for Future Brain after his escape from Dark Pinky since his personal living space is located in the basement. Julia resides here also. Brain uses Julia's technology to spy on Dark Pinky's location to avoid getting caught.

Snowball's Fortress- Hidden in the woods, Snowball has created a home for himself after Acme Labs' closure. Here, he spies on Dark Pinky and Future Brain, creating devious schemes to take the world from them. It's not very large, but it has a space where Snowball can create his inventions and an advanced system of computers for watching over Dark Pinky and Future Brain.

Preview- This is a little idea of what is going to happen in this series. This comes from the first fanfiction in the series "Darkness" and it's the ending from that fanfic. Here's a little snippet of the first draft (It's not that little, though. 2000+ words?! This isn't even the entire fic and it's almost longer than my previous work! Yeesh!):

Despite the thunderous chaos that occurred during the day, the castle was quite peaceful at night. Most of the soldiers, aside from the ones on a night shift, had dissipated into the inky blackness of midnight to rest away. The servants that didn’t tend to their mouse overlords’ evening needs slept quietly in their personal quarters without a second thought. And even the ones still awake tried their best to stay as quiet as possible, since Dark Pinky’s temper tended to flare immensely in later hours and that would mean Future Brain would get angry, too. Being on the receiving end of their rage was nothing to cough at; your life was basically in jeopardy if you were to wrong them. Most servants, however, drifted off around 11:30, despite being informed not to do so. All seemed quiet and serene.

The last of the butlers, who carried delicacies on the finest plates, had settled in at around 12:30, when quite suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Servants, maids, and the night guards nearly leaped from their posts precisely at the time the loud noises occurred and rushed to aid in whatever was going on. Many people were in their nightwear, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

The entourage of associates arrived at Dark Pinky and Future Brain’s room in only a matter of seconds. A soldier rapped on the door in a panic, hoping that all was well. “Your Highnesses is everything alright?” he questioned once, then again, then again. No response. Panic began to settle in with the group; had their rulers been taken? Luckily, the door was unlocked, which was unusual. Though they were told to avoid entering the room without knocking, at this point, there was no other choice.

The servants, guards, and maids filed into the room via the human-sized door. They were met with a confusing albeit disturbing sight. Dark Pinky was kneeling on the floor in only his plush purple robe, back facing away from everyone. Only a single lamp lit the room, hazy shadows lingering everywhere. Pieces of shattered glass surrounded the mouse, though it seemed like he didn’t care or notice. His paws seemed to be against his chest as if he were holding something precious. The only sound in the room was heavy breathing. Very heavy breathing.

“Uhm, are you okay, sir?” one of the servants spoke up, doing his best as to not upset his leader.

A chuckle was the response to that question, followed by a light gasp. “He’s gone.” Dark Pinky murmured discreetly. “He’s gone.”

The night guards eyed each other, the perplexity rising. “Who’s gone?” a soldier in the back of the group asked.

“He’s gone.” A breathy sob emerged from the mouse as he un-cupped a paw and pointed it towards his bed. Surely enough, no one was there. “Brain’s not here.”

Even more glances occurred between the people in the room. Usually when this happened, it wasn’t anything to get distraught about. What was so different now? One of the servants stepped forward in a tentative attempt to get more information.

“Your Excellence, I’m certain that if we just sent out the guards, we’d find you husband somewhere in the castle…”

“HE’S NOT HERE!!!” Pinky roared, abruptly standing up and turning to face the cluster. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were matted and damp from what looked like tears. He kept his paws close to his middle despite all the thrashing.

“Sir, are you convinced that Brain has vanished completely? He might just be in the kitchen or in his study room or-”

“I can assure you that he’s left the castle! I know! I know everything! I read his mind!” That was a lie. Brain had already been gone by the time he’d awoken to get a drink.

“But are you sure…”

“BRAIN’S GONE YOU IDIOT!!! I’M POSITIVE, STOP DOUBTING ME!! NARF!!!” Dark Pinky yelled, though it came off as more of a moan as his voice cracked.

The group of servants and soldiers moved closer together at their ruler’s sudden outburst. Some cowered in fear. One guard pushed himself out of the huddle, quivering in his purple uniform. “If you are sure that Brain has departed the perimeter, what can we do to assist you in his return?”

Pinky froze for a moment before letting out a snarl. His shoulders slumped as he stared at the ground below his feet. “Find him.” His mouth twitched. “Search everything and everywhere. Leave nothing untouched. Go to every corner of this miserable planet if you must. If he thinks that he can escape me, I think he’s more stupid than what he lets on.”

The soldiers nodded and departed the room to instruct their colleagues about the situation. The rumble of their boots quavered through the entire palace, yet Pinky still didn’t look up. Only the servants and maids remained standing in the doorway.

“As for the rest of you,” Pinky finally raised his head from facing the floor, staring at the miserable helps. He briefly read their puny little terrified minds full of concern. He liked the fear he instilled in them; it was comforting. “You are to scour the castle and look for any hints at where Brain might’ve gone. Check the security cameras, look at locks and see if they’ve been picked. Do anything you can to get a better idea of where he is. Fail me, and the dungeon will be your new home. Understand?”

The servants nodded, still shivering ever so slightly. They bolted out of the room at a rapid pace, setting off to track down the security footage and investigate the locks. Their jobs depended on finding these answers.

He didn’t move until the door slammed shut. He didn’t say a word. He eventually turned away to face the balcony, the dark blue atmosphere painting everything in unsettling colors. Usually, midnight was Pinky’s favorite time of the day, since the world seemed to stand still, and all the hustle simply faded into nothingness. Now, it just seemed bleak, unrelenting, even sinister. It did fit the persona he’d made for himself over the years, but something seemed twisted. For the first time in a while, Dark Pinky felt…uncertain about what was to come. Brain was gone. The mouse he loved most was gone. He let the moment sink in, bearing its claws to slash at his insides, turning his mind to mush.

The next few moments were made of pure silence. Pinky’s heart hammered against his chest, each beat causing him to feel weaker and weaker. The faint hum of servants’ thoughts trickled away until waning completely. Not even the sound of a familiar voice approaching was enough to pull him from his mute state.

“Dinky? Dinky, where are you?”

Billie.

“Julia’s run away. I don’t know where she went. Do ya know anything about where she went? I’m scared for her! Dinky? Please answer me!”

She sounded so desperate, so confused, so upset. Her thoughts were very scattered and shrill. Pinky winced as they entered his mind. It was like nails on a chalkboard. He tried to keep his composure, yet it was so difficult. He turned to face the door as he drew shuttering breaths. He loathed Billie quite a bit, and even her headspace was insufferable. Pinky ignored her calls. He didn’t care that Julia was also missing.

He brought his attention back to the balcony, gazing out into the vast void of black sky. He felt another cry working its way up. He held it in as best he could. Dark Pinky was so tired, yet so angry. Why had Brain left? What did he do? Was having the world not enough?

Hot tears escaped his eyes very freely. He brought his attention to his paws, still clasping onto something. Pinky uncurled his fingers, revealing the object: a tiny gold ring that sparkled with light pink diamonds. It began glowing in the light from the lamp.

Brain’s wedding ring.

The symbol of their love, their devotion.

He’d left it.

That’s how Pinky knew he was gone. Forever.

The room around him grew dizzy. Pinky felt his knees give out instantly, collapsing to the floor with a loud thud. His head hit the ground first, sending an astronomical amount of pain rattling towards his skull. His arms reached in front of him, the ring slipping away and clinking on the tile. The blue-eyed mouse felt a sharp twinge of discomfort coming from his arms and legs. He briefly sat up peered down at his lower limbs, grunting when he saw blood trailing through his ivory fur and bleeding into the fabric of his robe.

He'd fallen on the shards from when he’d thrown the water glass on his nightstand after seeing the wedding ring.

It had just sat there, on the dresser. No letter, no warning, nothing.

The abnormal amount of blood was alarming, but what made Dark Pinky really panic was the ring slipping away. He got up on his knees, reached out, and grabbed it quickly, pressing it against his bloodied red chest and robe as if it were his most valuable thing. Seeing all the jewels sparkle pink, the color of Brain’s eyes, proved too much. Especially when he stared at his own ring, the matching light blue diamonds complementing perfectly with the pink.

The tears came back with a vengeance. The sobs Pinky had tried to suppress spiraled out of control. His breaths came out labored and shaky. The pain from the gashes on his arms and legs burned even hotter. His head throbbed. Pinky’s emotional state was in ruin.

“B-Brain.” He began incoherently stuttering, forcing out the word that meant the most to him, though he’d never say it. “B-Brain. Oh Brain! Brain! P-Please! Brain!” Another sob, this one even stronger. The excess moisture in his eyes came rushing out in abundance. It wouldn’t stop.

The sobs turned into wails lightning fast. Dark Pinky was in so much pain, physically and emotionally. It was weird that he’d be this distraught, and yet, he didn’t pay any mind to it. Brain had left him. He deserved to be upset. Still, he hoped that no one would hear him.

“P-Poit.” The verbal tics began slipping out. In between each cry, his nonsense words would find their way to his vocabulary again. They kept coming and coming. Pinky did all he could to push those inane phrases away, but he was already having a tic fit. “N-Narf! Poit! Zort! Troz!” His body shuddered with the outbursts, the cuts still running red. Each tic made his chest ache to unbearable degrees. The tears poured out in massive amounts.

“P-Poit, Poit, Poit!” Pinky wheezed, his voice sore from sobbing. He clasped the ring even tighter in his left paw, reaching his right paw to his head. He felt so miserable. He felt like that vulnerable and pitiful creature he used to be, the one who messed everything up. The one who interjected sentences with random nonsense. The one who got unhappy at the stupidest of things.

The one that Brain loved.

Pinky began having trouble catching his breath, gasping for air. He needed to prevent himself from acting like his old self; he was improved now. Stronger, tougher, ruthless.

Brain hated the new you.

He rubbed his head, feeling his fingers against his fur. “Stop-poit! Just stop-narf! You’re-zort-better than-poit! This!” Each verbal tic interfered with his words. It became harder to speak each second. Even as he rubbed his forehead, he still could feel streams of tears trailing from his eyes. These horrible thoughts were maddening.

Brain hated you. He was using you. You finally do what he’s always wanted, yet he abandons you.

The weight of everything proved too much for the mouse. Pinky felt his knees give out once again, this time, his back being the first thing to hit the floor. He felt the shards of glass pierce and prod at his skin, but he didn’t bother acknowledging. It was futile to use this as an attempt to calm down. He didn’t call for a servant to clean up the mess. He might later, but not currently. Pinky just let the blood run out, mimicking the way his emotions were spilling. He knew his robe was ruined. He had an inkling that many of these gashes would scar. And yet, he didn’t demand for anyone nor ask anyone for help. It was just him. Brain certainly wasn’t there. Why should he ask for someone when his whole world had fled into the night?

Dark Pinky hugged his legs tightly, feeling his navy-blue colored nails dig into the skin on his shins. The cuts stung, but the blood from them was cold. He let some of it run across his fingers. It felt good. In his left paw was the ring, also pressing against him. His tail dropped at his backside and his chipped ears drooped as he sank into the ball he’d formed with his body. Laying on the floor was uncomfortable, especially with the glass pieces, but it was the only thing he felt like he could do.

He felt another round of sobs and tics coming, only this time, he held them back. Pinky bit his lip with his sharp fangs, though it was a tad painful. That wasn’t a concern. His eyelids grew heavy, to the point where he couldn’t keep them open anymore. He began rasping quietly as he felt himself relax, his breath now even. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the eerie night sky, mixed with the light from the table lamp. One solemn excess tear trailed down his face, landing on his chest before drying up. Dark Pinky growled once, though it burned as it escaped his throat.

“I’ll find you some day, Brain. You can’t hide from me for long. Narf,” he rasped before feeling the world fade around him, as he sank into the darkness of his subconscious. Brain wouldn’t get away from him so easily.

*end of preview*

Art gallery- Here's some fanart that inspired certain scenes and moments in my fanfiction. I like to do this when writing to get ideas or to construct a tone or mood. All work featured here is from @wimsiecal who I owe a lot of thanks to for establishing the best Dark Pinky universe of all time!! Seriously, if you're reading this, I apologize for you having to sit through my crappy first draft work to see your mention:

This art inspired the vibe I want to give their relationship plus a scene later on.

This work inspired Dark Pinky's look without the suit.

This inspired Dark Pinky's robe design (which you can see in the preview above)

Would you believe me if I told you that this inspired an entire scene in my fanfiction?

So, yeah, that's all I have. This doesn't give off major spoilers for any surprises I have in store, but I hope it gives you guys a general idea of my writing skills. I was debating on making this since I don't know if people will be interested in this, but it's my first time writing for Dark Pinky and Future Brain, so I decided I wanted some feedback from all of you. If you liked it, that's great! If you didn't, that's fine, too. I'm not a great writer by any means, so I'd like some constructive criticism on what to improve on. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a great day! Happy Dark Pinky Thursday!!

#pinky and the brain #patb #brinky #dark pinky #dark pinky thursday #fanfiction preview #yes this is chaos but I don't care

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measuredingold · 10 months

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to be in love and to be loved

chapter one: firsts

authors note: hi and welcome :D this is a lovechild me and a friend went down a rabbit hole with and... here we are! was so inspired by @the-way-of-words's polyverse that i couldn't help but create my own. i hope you all enjoy and feedback is appreciated! p.s. please be kind :) don't like it, don't read it! thank you.

pairing: noah sebastian x ofc x nicholas ruffilo

masterlist / cross-posted on ao3

word count: 8.1k (it's a doozy)

cw: depicts of anxiety/anxiety attacks, mental health struggles, 18+ (minors do not interact.)

Noah remembers the first time he met Naomi. It was brief, but it stuck with him.

It was at a random house show he had played with his old band. It was crowded, way too fucking hot, and he remembers being so overwhelmed after their set that he had to make a run for it. He found himself outside, the cool breeze washing over him, and he finally felt like he could breathe for the first time all day. His back met brick and he leaned his head against it, eyes fluttering shut. He just needed a moment to himself, to breathe, and to feel like the world wasn’t as scary as he thought it was.

He loved playing music. He kind of liked being in a band. It’s all he ever wanted to do, all he ever dreamed of since he was 13. It’s really fucking cool sometimes, but there’s still times when it’s gets to be too overwhelming. Sometimes he gets on stage and feels like the world is slowly starting to cave in on him and swallow him whole, like the world is actively working against him. When this happens, though, he’s able to look out into the crowd to find Nicholas to try and come back to himself.

Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights.

Nicholas had been putting in more hours at the shop recently, growing his cliental. Don’t get him wrong, Noah was proud of his best friend. So incredibly proud, but at times like this he really fucking missed him. He feels his stomach turn at the thought of the other, but he doesn’t dwell on it for too long.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

The voice next to him almost makes him jump out of his skin, eyes springing open and he turns body to stare at whoever the fuck just scared the shit out of him. His rapidly beating heart calms once his eyes land on the stranger, soft eyes staring back at his wide ones.

It was dark outside, but she’s close enough to make out the features on her face. He tries not to stare, really, especially with her concerned gaze on him but he can’t help it. He can tell her eyes are a shade of brown he thinks, maybe hazel, and her full lips are pulled up into a sheepish grin. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, whether from makeup or embarrassment, but he’s quickly learning that he likes it.

A lot.

Her hair was long, a slight curl to it, and it looked dark. A dark brown, or maybe even black, and he watches her push a loose strand away from her face and behind her ear. His hand twitches as the thought of doing that himself crosses his mind for barely a second but he clears his throat, mentally shaking that image away.

“Shit.” He eventually says, hand coming up to rub at his chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.” She replies, lips dipping down into a frown. “I really wasn’t trying to scare you. I just, uh, saw you run out here and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Noah eyes her as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a pack of Newports and a lighter, silently offering him one. He takes it.

“Did you follow me?”

He doesn’t miss the way her head dips to hide the embarrassed smile on her lips. She lights the cigarette that’s now in between his fingers and he brought it up to his lips, inhaling the smoke for a few seconds before blowing it out.

“Maybe.” She says, taking a long drag from her own cigarette. “It might just be the mom friend in me but the second I saw you run out I knew something was wrong, and no one else seemed to check up on you, so…”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she takes another long drag. Noah’s silent for a moment, her words settling into his mind, and he blushes this time. A stranger has never really cared enough to ask him if he’s alright, or even noticed the internal struggle he’s having with himself. Most of the time if people do ask if he’s alright they’re also asking for something in return, and as his eyes roam over her, he can tell she’s not like that.

Something twists from deep inside him.

“Um,” Her eyes meet his and he has to clear his throat. “Just been on edge all day, I guess. Not sure the reason why I freaked out there towards the end.”

“Anxiety is funny like that.” She snorts out a soft laugh. “There doesn’t have to be a reason. Your body and mind are always working against you no matter what.”

He nods. “It definitely feels like that sometimes.”

“My therapist always tells me to close my eyes and count to ten.”

“That’s it?” He snorts. Noah sees her roll her eyes, but her lips are slightly curled at the ends.

“And to take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Try to think of something,” She eyes him for a moment before continuing, “or someone that calms you down.”

He takes another drag as her words settles into his mind. It seems like the most obvious thing – close your eyes, think of something to calm you down, take deep breaths… it’s fucking obvious he should do that. It’s not like he’s never heard it before, he’s certain Nicholas told him the same thing a few times.

He thinks of a time where Nicholas had helped him through one of his episodes, remembering the one night where the other curled up behind him and rubbed his back in slow circles, telling him to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth. His shoulders relax at the thought. Huh.

“I’ll have to try that next time, I guess.”

He glances down to find Naomi staring at him again, her hand reaching out for him to take.

“I’m Naomi, by the way.” Another smile, this time less embarrassed and more soft, friendly. “You were sick up there tonight. Don’t think I mentioned that yet.”

Noah’s heart starts racing the second their hands touch, but this time it’s not panic induced. Or well, maybe caused by some type of panic because what the hell? His are much larger than hers, which was a given, but he can’t stop from staring at how his hand practically engulfs hers. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been holding on until he notices Naomi cock an eyebrow up at him. He clears his throat.

“Oh. I’m Noah.” It’s his turn to blush and he drops her hand, shoving his into his pocket. “Sorry. Head’s kind of still fuzzy, but um, thank you.”

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” She looks skeptical but doesn’t comment any further. “You probably wanna be alone, huh? Sorry for bothering you with all my therapy talk. Just thought I’d share some knowledge.”

He stares at her for a moment and he’s not sure why, but something inside of him is begging to tell her to stay, to ask for another cigarette. He doesn’t, though, actually he says nothing at all. Instead, he watches her throw her cigarette down to the ground and stomp on it, shoving her pack and lighter back into her pockets. She looks up at him and smiles, and he gives her an awkward one back.

"I'll see you around?" She's already walking away from him and gives him a tiny wave, a hopeful look on her face.

I hope so.

All he can do is nod, swallowing down the lump in his throat as she walks back inside the house and gets lost in the packed room of bodies. He purposely ignores the way his stomach rolls once she's out of view.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there for, letting the cigarette burn out in his hand, before he decides to pack it up and head on home. Nicholas is already asleep by time he gets there, and he gets ready for bed as quietly as he can, memories of tonight floating through his mind.

And once he’s in bed and he lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he dreams of soft smiles and even softer eyes.

…

The next time Noah meets Naomi, it isn’t the most ideal situation. He’d tell you that it was actually really fucking embarrassing.

He fucked up on stage that night, more than once, and his bandmates don’t hesitate to let him know. He swallows down the anger and disappointment in himself, fingers tapping against the top of his thighs as he stands in silence while they basically dog on him. He missed a queue, fucked up a note, tripped over his damn feet on stage… the list goes on and on. By the end he can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears, face red from embarrassment. He noticed his breathing was beginning to already get jagged, and he clenches his hands into fists.

He needs to get out of here and fast.

He mutters out a quiet “Sorry” before he pushes his way through the crowd of people, not bothering to even look for Nicholas because he knows he’s not here. Told him earlier in the day when he was leaving for work, a disappointed frown on his lips. Noah can’t forget the way his stomach dropped and how upset he had been in the moment, but now is more than happy that Nicholas wasn’t here to witness the fucking shit show that had went down.

He goes out the back, trying to avoid as many people as he can and their extremely concerned glances. He finds himself back at the same brick wall from weeks ago and practically collapses, leaning back against the wall. He pulls his legs up to his chest and rests his forehead against his knees, eyes squeezing shut.

Everything feels like it’s too much. He can feel everything around him, from the way the wind sounds to the way the ground sounds underneath people’s feet walking near him. The grass beneath him even feels different and he feels like he needs to claw his way out of his skin.

He can’t breathe. He needs to go home.

“Noah?”

It sounds muffled, everything around him does, and he’s pulling his head up slowly from his knees to blink up at whoever called for him. He blinks twice before it finally registers with him that it was Naomi, and the look on her face has him wanting to claw at his skin again. She looks so… worried, like she actually cares that he’s having the worst possible time and wants to make sure he’s okay. It doesn’t make him feel better. He doesn’t say anything, instead presses his lips together and tries to breathe through his nose and out his mouth to calm himself down.

It isn’t working. Of fucking course.

She’s kneeling down in front of him but at a safe distance, keeping her hands to herself as she gives him a once over. He sees her gaze drop to his hands and watches her lips dip down into a frown. He looks down himself and notices that they’re shaking, and it takes him another moment to realize he’s actually shaking all over. He swallows.

Shit.

“Hey, look at me.” He blinks at her again and she gives him a timid smile. “Remember what I told you last time? Breathe through your nose, out through your mouth?”

He nods. “Tried. Not working.”

His voice sounds rough, like it’s not even his. Naomi pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and chews on it gently before settling down in front of him, crossing her legs.

“Come on, sit like me. Cross your legs and lean your head back against the wall.” It takes a moment but he’s slowly crossing his legs under him, head leaning back against the brick wall. “Good. Is it alright if I touch you?”

He never likes to be touched when he’s like this, only ever letting Nicholas, but he finds himself nodding. He doesn’t even hesitate. She gives him a smile, relieved, and reaches forward slowly. Her fingers wrap around his wrists, pulling his arms towards her, and his entire body physically shakes when he feels her thumbs brush over the insides of his wrists. Naomi doesn’t comment on it.

“Close your eyes for me and keep breathing like I told you, yeah?”

And he does. He spends a few minutes focusing on his breathing, counting to ten before he breathes out each time. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. She doesn’t stop rubbing his wrists, brushing circles on his skin as she sits quietly. A good ten minutes pass before his eyes slowly open, his heart pounding slightly less than it was before. He feels like he can breathe in wholly now and not like something was stuck in his lungs like it has been for the last hour or so.

He finds Naomi staring at him, soft hazel eyes and an even softer smile, never once stopping her movements. “How’re we feeling?”

“Better.” He manages to get out, swallowing. “Not good but… better.”

She frowns. “Do you want me to stop? This usually helps me during an attack, but everyone’s different.”

“No.” It slips past his lips before he can even think about it and he’s shaking his head repeatedly, heart rate picking up again. “Don’t leave. Please.”

Her fingers grip his wrists, putting slight pressure against his skin. “Hey, look at me. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m staying right here. For as long as you want me to.” A pause. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, Noah.”

She coaches him through it, mumbling that same phrase every couple of seconds until his chest has stopped heaving and he was breathing normally again. Not once did she let go of him or stop rubbing circles against the inside of his wrists, and after a few minutes it was the only thing Noah could think about.

Her touch was soft, not too rough, and every so often she’d press down ever so slightly. Like a reminder that she was still there and that he was okay. With one last breath, Noah’s eyes flutter open.

She smiles. “You did such a good job.”

For some reason his cheeks heat up at that, skin feeling like it’s on fire but in the best way possible. He tries to smile back in response, but it falls short into something more awkward and she giggles. Naomi gives his wrist another squeeze before she releases his grip on him, and his heart drops.

He didn’t want her to let go.

"Do you need anything?"

Noah can barely think, exhaustion entering his body. He hated when this happened especially the aftermath because all he felt was exhausted. His bones felt like they weighed ten tons and all he wanted to do was crawl into a ball and never wake up. He shakes his head and pulls his legs back up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his cheek against the top of it.

"Can you... do that thing again? With my wrists?" He says in a small voice after a solid minute of silence.

Naomi looks shocked, eyes widening just a bit before she nods and reaches out to wrap her fingers around his wrists again. He lets out a breath he had been holding when her thumbs begin to rub circles against the inside of his wrists, applying slight pressure every so often.

“Do you get like this a lot?” She asks quietly. He shrugs.

“More recently, yeah.”

A silence falls over them, but Naomi doesn’t stop her movements. She pauses her thumbs to scratch her fingernails over the inside of his wrists gently and it’s enough to make him shudder, eyes falling shut at the feeling. For some reason it was actually helping, whatever anxiety he had been feeling before suddenly vanishing.

“Do you have anyone to help you when this happens?”

“Yeah.” He opens his eyes now and picks his head up to rest his chin against his knee. “My roommate – well, my best friend. Nicholas. He uh, he helps, but he works a lot now so sometimes I just deal with it on my own.”

Their eyes meet and Naomi’s lips press together, thumbs pressing against his wrists again.

“Have you ever talked to anyone about it? Like… a therapist?” He groans in response and Naomi laughs. “Sorry, you’re probably sick of me and the therapy talk.”

“No, not sick of you talking about it, just…” Noah groans, dropping his head on his knees again. “Tired of that. I know therapy works and I’ll get there eventually, swear, I just.”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, letting his words drift off. Naomi hums quietly, almost in agreement, but he doesn’t look at her. He can already see the frown on her face.

“I get it. It’s hard.” She scratches her nails against his skin again before letting go and Noah’s quick to look up, face scrunching up in confusion. He watches her reach in her pocket to pull out her phone, holding it out towards him. “Give me yours.”

He doesn’t move at first, just blinks between her and the phone staring at him before he reaches into his own pocket to get his. They both unlock their phones and trade off, Naomi immediately typing away on his. She flips the screen, and he sees a name and a number now added into his contacts.

Mimi [sparkle emoji]

xxx-xxx-xxxx

“In case you feel like this again and your friend isn’t around.” She gives him another one of those soft smiles and he swears he feels his heart flip beneath his chest.

They trade back their phones once Noah enters his number and Naomi – Mimi – reaches for his hands again without being prompted, going back to rubbing tiny circles against his skin. He feels better now, and warm all over and his chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to cave in any time soon.

He liked this feeling a lot.

They sit outside like that for what feels like hours, but was only another thirty minutes, before Naomi’s name gets called from inside the house. She looks sad for a moment and Noah nearly misses it, and she recovers with a smile all too quick. He didn’t miss it, though, and the thought of her not wanting to leave has his kin buzzing in excitement.

“Friends are searching for me which means it’s probably time to head out.” His stomach drops when she lets go of him one last time. “You good to be on your own?”

He nods. “Yeah, I uh. I feel a lot better actually.”

Her cheeks flush again and he forgot how much he liked that from when they first met and he smiles, the first genuine one he had done all day.

“Good.” They both get up from their spots on the ground and wipe off their jeans. “Don’t hesitate to shoot me a text or even call me if you feel like that again and you’re alone. I don’t mind.”

Noah shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to act like her words doesn’t make him feel fluttery. “You don’t have to do all of that. You barely know me.”

She eyes him for a second before softly saying, “Does that really matter?”

No. It doesn’t, he thinks.

They say their goodbyes but before she turns away from him fully, he reaches out, fingers wrapping around her arm to stop her.

“Thank you, Naomi. Seriously.”

She looks up at him through her lashes and the smile she gives him makes him want to throw up, but definitely in a good way, and he finds himself smiling back.

“Don’t thank me.” She murmurs, smile never wavering. “And call me Mimi. All my friends call me that.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Duh. You have my number now – you’re never getting rid of me.”

The night didn’t go the way he planned, but he ended up with Naomi’s number in his phone, and if you asked him if he had laid in bed that night texting her with the biggest smile on his face before he fell asleep, he’d tell you that it was a fucking lie.

(It wasn’t a lie.)

…

The first time Nicholas met Naomi he realized two things.

1: Naomi is everything Noah said she would be.

She was kind, caring, and tentative to everyone around her. He was sure that if there were a group of them, she would go out of her way to make sure everyone felt included, and not once throughout the night did she make him feel casted out. She gave both him and Noah her undivided attention. It was impressive, to say the least.

He also remembers being mesmerized by her smile and her eyes, noticing the softness Noah had mentioned numerous times beforehand instantly. They were a light shade of brown, and they were inviting and welcoming. He felt like he could get lost in them for hours. It's in that moment where he thinks he finally understands what people mean when they compliment his eyes, especially after Naomi said something to him about them a few hours before.

"Wow." Her voice is hushed, staring up at Nicholas in slight awe. "Noah wasn't kidding when he said you had the prettiest eyes."

He had to dip his head to hide his burning blush, her words sending butterflies throughout his body. Not only did her compliment do him in, but the fact Noah talked about him and his “pretty eyes” when he wasn't around made his head spin.

"Oh, uh. Thank you, Naomi."

"You can call me Mimi." She's smiling now and Nicholas finds himself smiling back. "All my friends call me that."

"We're already friends?" He teases. Naomi - Mimi - grins wider, nudging him with her elbow gently.

"Hell yeah we are. Any friend of Noah is a friend of mine."

2: Noah definitely liked her more than he had initially put on.

Nicholas' eyes never left the two. The way they interacted, the way Noah would touch her, lean into her and had stuck to her side the entire night. Something inside Nicholas stirred, but he swallowed it down and pushed it to the back of his mind for another time. He wasn't the jealous type by no means, but it was odd to see Noah cling to someone that wasn't him. It made him feel… weird.

He can’t tell if it was a bad thing or not yet.

They were all piled in the living room of their shared apartment, something Nicholas took pride in. It wasn't much but it was theirs. It was home - for now, at least. The three of them passed around a bottle of wine that Nicholas had got on his way home from the shop. They didn't bother using cups and instead just sipped it right from the bottle.

Mimi reaches across Noah to hand the bottle off to him and he watches as Noah leans his head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. Nicholas guesses the wine is slowly getting to him and he eyes the bottle, seeing it already halfway gone. He brings it up to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes glancing over at the two to find Mimi already staring at him.

Her own face is flushed, and Nicholas thinks it looks lovely, the contrast of the blush against her skin complimenting her. Her hair is tossed up in a loose ponytail, having pulled it up maybe an hour ago, and a few curls have been made free, framing around her face almost perfectly. She looked relaxed – calm, like this was her favorite place in the entire world.

She's not even trying and she's already taking Nicholas' breath away.

"How many tattoos do you have?"

"Uh," Nicholas glances down at his own body before his eyes find Mimi's again. "A few."

She snorts out a laugh, eyes rolling. "A few. Don't be an asshole."

It's Nicholas' turn to laugh.

"I'm not trying to be! I just haven't counted them in like... ever."

"You have around 10." Noah speaks up finally. An eye opens to peek at Nicholas before shutting again, leaning his head against the back of the couch. "Maybe more, but last time I counted it was like... 10 or so."

"...You've counted them?"

"Yeah. When I'm bored." Noah pauses. "I like looking at them."

Nicholas is silent. Being in the tattoo industry as long as he has means he's gotten a lot of tattoos he doesn't even remember having, but the fact Noah has taken the time to count them because he liked them does something to him. He glances down at the boy and then up to Mimi who's blinking back and forth between him and Noah, and there's a look in her eyes that Nicholas can't quite place.

"That's more than a few, Nicky." Mimi murmurs, lips tugging up into a playful smile.

Nicky. His stomach flipped with butterflies at the nickname and he had to turn his head to hide his own smile, cheeks burning. He's never admitted it, but he loved nicknames - specifically that one. The only other person who's ever referred to him as Nicky was Noah and the fact Mimi was already calling him that was a feeling he couldn't describe. He liked it way too much.

"He's done a few on himself." Noah says, words slurring together. The wine is definitely starting to catch up. "He's done maybe... two on me? I can't really remember. I want more, but he says he won't do any on me until he gets better," His hands go up to do sarcastic quotation marks around the phrase, "but I've told him over and over again that he's fucking amazing." Noah opens his eyes to glare at Nicholas now, teasingly, before turning his head to look at Mimi. "If I could get tattooed by one person for the rest of my life it'd be him."

If his cheeks were burning before, they definitely are now. Mimi's brows raise at Noah's words and she takes another long look at Nicholas, eyes tracing over the art on his arms. He feels kind of self-conscious, like she's judging him because she doesn't agree with Noah. For some reason that makes him feel sick, the thought of her not liking something of his. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"I like that one." She reaches over Noah to brush her fingers against Nicholas' skin, pointing at the tattoo on his neck. He knew exactly which one she was pointing to, the rose with the web and eye attached. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you didn’t do that one?”

His skin burns from where she touched and he has to swallow before answering, "Nah. I’ve done a few on my legs but that’s it.” He takes another long sip of the wine. “I did draw it, though. Just let someone else at the shop do it for me."

She nods, eyes tracing over his arm before looking up at him through her lashes, a soft grin stretching across her lips. "Do you draw most of them?"

He gives her a nod in response, and he watches as her lips form around the word wow, eyes shining bright as she looked over his tattoos again.

"Nicky's an artist, Mimi. Of course he draws most of them." Before Noah even finishes speaking, Mimi's pulling away to pinch at the others side. He laughs, loud and bright and it makes something beneath Nicholas’ chest clench. Noah curls his body away from her and ultimately leans into Nicholas, head falling onto his shoulder.

"Do you draw for other people?" She questions, focus going back to Nicholas. He nods, shifting under Noah to wrap an arm loosely around his shoulder. Naomi’s eyes drop to his arm and then back up to him.

"Of course. Some people give me the freedom to do whatever or they come in with an idea and I just draw based on that."

"Cool." She pauses. "Could you draw me something?"

"...You want me to draw you something?"

Naomi shrugs and he doesn't miss the light flush on her cheeks. He tells himself it's because of the wine. "Well... yeah? I'd love for you to draw me something. I can pay you for a commission, whatever you want. I don't mind."

"No." He's already shaking his head. "Absolutely not. You're not paying me for anything. We're friends, remember?"

"You made me pay." Noah grumbles. Nicholas reaches down to pinch at his side, just like Naomi had done, but this time Noah curls himself further into his side, swatting at his hands.

"Shut up, I did not." He looks up at Naomi once Noah calmed down. "Don't listen to him. I would never make him pay; he's just being a brat."

She laughs, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she eyes Noah before flickering her gaze back to Nicholas. "Oh, I know. I've caught on to that really quick."

Something in her words makes his skin buzz and he can't help but think there's some kind of hidden meaning behind them. His eyes flicker between her and Noah, but the boy seems to pay no mind to her or her words, nuzzling himself closer to Nicholas' side – if that was even possible.

"Not a brat. You guys are just mean." His words slur together, eyes fluttering shut. Naomi rolls her eyes, arms crossing over her chest.

"Right. Whatever you say, Davis." She gazes at Nicholas again, light eyes meeting her own. "But seriously, Nicky, let me pay you or something. Buy you dinner. Whatever you want."

Nicky. There it is again. He pauses to collect himself, trying to ignore the way his fingers twitch and his skin buzzes, and then sighs out his response.

"You're not going to let me do it unless I let you pay me, huh?"

"Nope."

"Fine." He ponders on it for a moment, weighing the options in his mind before settling on his choice. "If you let me draw whatever I want and let me tattoo you myself, you can pay me in dinner. Deal?"

The smile Naomi gives him has him feeling like he's on fire in the best way possible, and he can't help but smile back.

"Deal."

…

The first time Nicholas tattoos Naomi, they almost kiss.

It takes a while for him to do it, trying to catch up on appointments he already made while also trying to work around Naomi’s schedule. In the end he doesn’t get to tattoo the girl until after nearly nine months of knowing her.

It helps, though, because it let Nicholas sit on the idea and brainstorm the design for as long as he wanted. He didn’t expect it to take this long, but he’s glad, because he wanted it to be perfect. He needed it to be perfect for her. Not only will this be on her skin forever, but the fact Nicholas did it will be there forever, too, and the thought of her hating it made him feel sick.

She couldn't hate it. He wouldn't let that happen.

At first, he wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't until four months into their newfound friendship that Naomi commented on his neck tattoo again, more specifically the rose part of it, saying how much she enjoyed floral tattoos that Nicholas knew what to draw for her.

It wasn't a rose, just a bunch of peonies, but they were gorgeous. It was probably one of the better floral drawings he's done, and he was proud of it, especially after showing Naomi one night when she had come over after one of Noah's gigs. Her smile was starting to become one of his favorite things in the entire world, and seeing it shine brightly on her face after showing her the finished product will be something he’ll never forget.

The tattooing process itself went really smooth; a lot smoother than Nicholas anticipated. He couldn't explain it, but he was nervous. He didn't want to fuck this up, or worse, hurt Naomi in some way. Getting a tattoo isn't the most comfortable thing, especially on the thigh where she begged him to put it, but she took it like a champ.

Every so often he'd take a short break to let her stretch out her limbs, maybe even calm down when he noticed her getting more tense than normal. She didn't complain once, though, and Nicholas was impressed at how well she took it, but he was still worried about her. Each time, though, she'd pick her head up and look at him, giving him a bright smile.

"I'm in good hands, Nicky. You can keep going."

Before he knows it, they're finished and Naomi is sitting herself up, having had to lay down for the last hour and a half so Nicholas could get to places easier without moving her too much. She stretches her arms with a groan and swings her legs over the edge, careful to not do anything to mess up the fresh tattoo. Nicholas has his back to her, getting her supplies ready for the aftercare.

"Holy shit." She gasps from behind and he whips around, thinking she's accidentally bumped it on something and hurt herself.

Instead, he finds Naomi still sitting on the chair, staring down at the art that's etched into her skin. Her face is in complete and utter awe, and the look she gives him has his stomach turning in such a way he can't explain, throat tightening. He swallowed it down and walked towards her, getting ready to clean it and wrap it up.

"You like it?" He asks, grabbing a clean paper towel. "This might sting a little, I'm just gonna clean it off. Tell me if it hurts."

"Like it? Nicky, I fucking love it." She winces a bit when he starts to clean it off and he has to stop himself from frowning. "This is... it's incredible."

He blushes, head tipped down as he finishes up the cleaning before reaching for the saniderm to place over it. It's doesn't take him too long to place it over the tattoo, gently smoothing it down as he replies.

"You're only saying that because we're friends."

What happens next shocks him.

He doesn't think he realized how close they had been, Nicholas placed in between her legs, and the second he feels her fingers press against his skin he tenses, movements coming to a halt. She doesn't say anything, instead grips his chin gently to pull his head back up to look at her. The second their eyes meet Nicholas feels like the air had just been knocked out of his lungs.

Fuck.

"Nicky, I'm saying that because it's true. This is fucking amazing." Her voice has dropped down to almost a whisper, lips curling a bit at the ends. "You're so fucking talented, dude, it blows me away sometimes."

His mouth feels dry. He’s not sure what to even say, his mind drawing a blank because what the fuck? He’s never been this close to her and he’s able to see faint freckles coloring her skin, over her nose and her cheeks. He’s quickly learning how much he fucking loves them. His eyes find hers and they stare at each other for another moment before Nicholas finally swallows away the dryness.

“Thank you, Mimi.” He manages to get out. “That… really means a lot to me.”

Her gaze drops to his lips and then back to his eyes, but she doesn’t reply. He doesn't know what changes, or what makes him want to do this, but the way she's looking at him - begging him to do something - has him leaning in.

Her breath hitches the second their foreheads touch, and his chest swells with excitement at that, nose nudging against hers. She rests a hand against the back of his neck, fingers immediately tangling in the hair that's fallen there. Her other hand rests against his arm, gripping it gently. If he just leans in one more inch their lips would be touching, and he would be kissing her. The thought makes him shiver, but the next thought makes him pause.

Noah.

"Nicky..." She breathes out and it almost does it for him. Almost.

"What about Noah?" He blurts out while pulling away, hands still against her hips. His stomach drops when he sees her face fall, lips pursed out into a pout.

She doesn't respond, not at first, and it almost seems like she’s in a daze. His hands gently squeeze at her hips and he finds himself leaning back in, pressing his forehead against hers. This seems to bring her back to reality, but she doesn’t move away, sighing softly as her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. He shivers again.

“Right…” She hums, eyes falling shut. “What about him?”

“Well, because he and I… and you and him… you know.” He doesn’t know how to say it, how to say that he knows how Noah feels about her, and he assumes she feels about Noah, so he shrugs instead.

She pulls back from him, face scrunched in confusion before it drops into realization, mouth forming an O. Her hands drop from him and he takes a step back, missing the way her touch felt against his skin. It’s awkward, he can tell, and he rubs at the back of his neck as she hops off the tattoo chair.

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs while reaching for her bag. Nicholas can see that her cheeks are painted crimson. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t. It’s okay.” He tries to give her a smile, but it falls short. His shoulders sag. “I shouldn’t have either.”

She nods, pressing her lips together and fingers gripping the strap of her bag.

“We can just forget about it?” He continues.

Naomi chews on her bottom lip and finally meets his eyes. He frowns. This is not how he was planning on this going, and something in him wishes he hadn’t said anything and just kissed her. He can tell she's freaking out. The look on her face is evident enough and he reaches out to place both hands against her shoulders.

"Mimi." She looks up at him, eyes wide and full of fear. Usually, she's the one trying to calm someone down, so Nicholas being the one to do it for her is... different. "Breathe."

And she does. He watches her chest rise and fall with each breath she takes while he rubs his thumbs against her shoulders, trying to smooth out the tension. It takes a moment, but her face finally relaxes, and her shoulders drop.

"I just..." She takes another deep breath. "I just really care about you, and Noah too, and I don't want to fuck this up."

"But you won’t. You didn’t." Nicholas presses, squeezing her shoulders gently. "What did I say? Let's just forget it. Act like it didn't happen."

Naomi pauses. "Ignoring it isn't healthy."

"You and that damn therapy talk." She smiles weakly. "Listen... something almost happened, but in the end, nothing did. We can talk about it all you want but I'm more than okay with just going on like before. I..." He swallows, fingers squeezing her shoulders again. "I care about you a lot, Naomi. I also care about Noah a lot. I don't want something like this to come between us. You two are the best things I've got going on for me right now and I'd like to keep it that way for a long, long time."

He keeps eye contact with her, hoping to get across that he was being serious. His heart pounded beneath his chest as she stared at him for a second longer before her lips curled at the end, a slight flush forming on her cheeks.

"Okay." She breathes out, giving him a nod. "Okay, we can just... act like nothing happened."

"Okay. Cool." For some reason his chest clenches, but he brushes it off and gives her a smile. "Let me just clean up and we can head out, alright?"

"Yeah, of course." She mumbles as she finally gets up off the chair, stretching her limbs again.

Nicholas tidies up his little corner in the shop, preparing things for tomorrow while also cleaning up from tonight's session. He hears Naomi yawn from behind him as she gathers her things and he glances at the clock, eyes widening at just how late it really was. He knows she promised to get him dinner after, as a part of their deal from many months ago, but he knows that after a few hours in that chair she's probably ready to crash.

He grabs his things and stuffs what he can into his pockets, turning around to find Naomi leaning against the wall beside him, a tired smile settling on her lips.

"You sure you're up for dinner tonight?" His lips pull into a frown as he glances over her and she looks like she's a second away from falling asleep.

"Duh. I promised I would."

His frown deepens. "Dude, you look like you're about to fall over."

"Shut up, I feel fine!" Nicholas narrows his eyes at her and she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Okay, maybe I am a little tired but who cares? I promised, so we're going."

He ushers her towards the door, turning off the lights as they move about the shop.

"I care." He grumbles as he's locking the door behind him. He eyes the parking lot, completely vacant besides their two cars before focusing back on her, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Why don't we just take a rain check? Buy me dinner another night when your thigh hasn't been blasted for the last 4 hours?" He doesn't miss the blush coating her cheeks. "Also, I doubt anything is open besides that Chinese spot down the road."

She pauses before letting out a sigh. "I hate that you're right. I doubt I'd be able to make it without falling asleep."

"Mimi, you know I'm always right."

"Don't push it, Ruffilo."

He laughs and by instinct he places his hand against the small of her back, leading her towards her car. He tries to ignore the way it feels to have her under his touch again, and he definitely ignores the glance she gives him, eyes slightly blown. They eventually come to an agreement to meet up Saturday after he gets off and then decide to drive together to Noah's gig, meeting up with the younger boy.

On his way home Nicholas is silent, mind going crazy as his thoughts began to swirl. He wasn't lying when he said he was okay with acting like nothing happened because he was, it was just that... maybe he would've been okay with something actually happening. He always chalked up his feelings for Naomi to just being his attraction to her, but he's starting to think it's more than that. He knows it’s more than that.

He's so lost in thought he barely even remembers unlocking the door to his apartment. There's a light still on and he finds that the television is still on too and his face scrunches in confusion until he sees Noah curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped around his body. He looks small, which is something no one ever says whenever it comes to Noah, and Nicholas can't help but smile.

He takes his shoes off by the door and quietly makes his way through the apartment, turning the light off as he goes towards the couch. He always hates waking Noah up when he comes home late, but he knows he'd probably be a lot more comfortable in his own bed. He kneels in front of the couch and another smile pulls at his lips. Noah's out, lips parted as steady puffs of air leave him. He looks peaceful.

Something in Nicholas' chest tightens.

"Noah." He says softly, reaching forward to brush a few strands of hair that's fallen over his face and smooths them back. The boy squirms, face scrunching in his sleep and Nicholas thinks he's about to wake up. Instead, he turns on his side, back now facing Nicholas. He laughs. "Noah, come on, man. Don't you wanna sleep in a real bed?"

Noah grumbles something in response, sleep slurring his words, and Nicholas rolls his eyes affectionately. They go through this a few times a week, Nicholas coming home to Noah passed out on the couch and him trying to wake the other up. It's almost routine at this point. It takes him a few more tries before Noah is turning back over to face him, eyes squinted and bleary with sleep.

The second their eyes meet Nicholas feels like he's been slammed in the chest multiple times, the air getting stuck in his lungs. It's a different feeling, something he's never felt before, but it hit him like a ton of fucking bricks at his sudden realization.

He loved coming home to Noah and finding him on their shitty little couch they had bought for $100. He loved spending five minutes or so trying to wake him up whenever he got home, playing with his hair or poking at his chest until he did so. He also loved their shitty apartment with the broken heater and leaky faucet because it was home. He liked doing this with Noah - life - and he's starting to realize that maybe he likes it in a more than a friend way.

Almost like someone else.

Naomi. He forgot he had almost kissed Naomi tonight. Had her in his reach, in his arms, and almost kissed her when he knew how Noah felt about her. Even if he's never said anything about it, Nicholas can't mistake the looks Noah gives her when he thinks no one's watching. It makes him sick to think that they might want her in the same way, and he and Naomi might want Noah in the same way. Not with jealousy, no, he could never be jealous of them, that's impossible; but this was something more like fear.

The fear of hurting Noah and Naomi in any way makes him want to rip his skin off and scream into the never-ending void. He could never do that.

"Come on, let's get up. You'll hate yourself in the morning if you lay here any longer." He gets out roughly. Noah groans as he sits up, bones cracking as he stretches his limbs out.

They're both quiet as Nicholas stands and looks for the remote while Noah is getting up off the couch, wrapping his blanket back around his body and shuffling towards his room. He throws out a quiet "goodnight, Nicky" and all Nicholas can reply is "night", throat tightening again. His fingers grip the remote as Noah's door shuts behind him and he lets out a breath he had been unknowingly holding.

He gets ready for bed quickly after that, silently ripping his clothes off once he's in the comfort of his own room because everything feels like it’s too tight. His shirt feels like it's suffocating him and if he doesn't get it off in the next 2 seconds, he'll die. Not really, but he's feeling dramatic. He crawls into bed and flops onto his back, chest heavy.

Naomi. Noah. Noah. Naomi. NaomiNoahNaomiNoah.

It's a never-ending chant in his mind, like they're the only two things in this world that matters. Which is kind of true, because they are the two most important people in Nicholas' life. He feels like he's having an epiphany, finally realizing something that's been staring him right in the face this entire fucking time, but it's not a good feeling. Not even in the slightest.

How does one manage to not only fall for one, but two, of their closest friends? Is it even possible to want two separate people and love them in the exact same way?

The short answer is yes, it's very fucking possible, and it's absolutely terrifying. Just ask Nicholas.

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