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taexual · 11 months

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sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fafiction #jungkook rockstar au #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts rockstar au

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royallyprincesslilly · 10 months

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Title: What We Did In The Dark {3}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Mature Content, Angst, Small Time Jumps, Preggo Talk, Pregnancy Trope, Talk of Pregnancy Termination

Words: 6.4k

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. Now back to your own life, you find you have a special souvenir from your time in Mauritius and you have a tough decision to make.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

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What We Did In The Dark {1}**** | What We Did In The Dark {2}* |

Chapter Three: Better An Ooops….

“Take it easy!”

You groaned as you dropped face first onto your couch and let yourself spread out across the cool white leather. After 3 days in the hospital, tens of tests, and plenty of round-the-clock vitamin treatments to get your body up to standard for your condition you were finally released with prescriptions and doctor's orders to take it easy for a few days. You’d planned to come home and jump on your laptop to finish some things up, but Villie decided to bring you in and make sure you were settled. You knew she’d done it for a reason, and it was to make sure you didn’t do what you wanted to.

“So what do you feel like for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tough shit. You’re going to eat. Your doctors said you need to take it easy, eat 3 balanced meals a day, and keep your stress levels down. So they took care of breakfast and lunch, now we order dinner.”

Villie dropped a heavy hand across your ass making you shout into the cushions of the couch. You shifted onto your side and rolled into a ball.

“What about the Halal spot that is on Blauvelt?”

You groaned and at the thought of all that meat covered with white creamy sauce, your stomach churned like the agitator inside of a washing machine. It didn’t feel right at all. Because of it, a ball of nausea formed in your chest, but your stomach grumbled.

“See, you’re hungry,” Villie assumed.

However, that was not the case. The thought of Halal made your stomach swirl like the letter “S”.

“No Halal.”

“Burgers, Mexican, Caribbean?”

None of those sounded any better. Suddenly, Villie gasped.

“Oooh, what about that Cuban spot?”

You allowed that to simmer for a few moments and when your stomach didn’t react you slowly sat up. In your mind’s eye, you saw a towering plate of empanadas beside another plate filled with Cuban-style seafood paella and a bowl of black bean soup and tostones. You looked to Villie and found her smiling widely.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You pulled out your phone and went to your food ordering app then found the restaurant she meant. You spent the following 5 or so minutes adding everything your stomach told you that you needed and had to have or else you’d die. By the time you’d checked out, your total and quantity were insane for just two people but as far as you were concerned everything was a necessity.

While Villie waited for the order, you took a quick shower. Or it was meant to be quick. Whenever you swiped your decadently soaped-up exfoliating gloves across your abdomen you paused up and your mind wandered. There was an actual baby inside of you right now—two to be accurate. You were carrying the babies of a man you’d only slept with once, well multiple times over the span of 5ish hours. You didn’t know him and you sure as hell hadn’t planned for this to be the outcome of your wanton night of pleasure.

There were so many things on your mind, so many worries to add to the ones you already had. According to Dr. Olumici, you had already reached the cut-off point to ethically terminate with her and most other providers. However, you could find other physicians who would perform an early 2nd-trimester termination. Through your research in the hospital, you educated yourself on why it was too unethical and brought so much controversy. Once you understood you couldn’t fathom doing it.

With that answer, you also couldn’t fathom yourself carrying these babies or giving them a life. You weren’t exactly stable in your life or career. You’d only just begun the path and had so many other things planned to accomplish before the whole adding to the population of the world thing. That meant you had a predicament on your hands that now only had one resolution—adoption. Even that didn’t sit right with you. Could you go on living your life knowing you had a life somewhere else in the world living, a being that came from you, a being you wouldn’t know in any way?

So you spent the entire shower going back and forth over your options but that only sent you into an endless circle with resolutions that weren’t real ones because they posed more problems and raised more questions. By the time you came out of the shower and returned to the living room, Villie was lost in her phone with the food spread out across your coffee table.

“That was longer than usual.”

“Yeah, I smelled like a hospital, I needed to smell like me.”

Villie nodded then grabbed the bottle that was in the center of the table, “Did you know you can get alcohol delivered off of Dash?”

You snorted. Leave it to her to try. You took a seat on the floor beside her ready to dig in but her phone resting on the table caught your eye. It was the picture of the man who’d showed up at the hospital, the one you’d rear-ended.

“You found him on socials already?”

Villie glanced at her phone then scoffed. “It wasn’t hard. Take a guess who he’s connected to.”

You thought about it for a second but the smells wafting from the containers took your attention. You went through pulling off the tops of the food containers and moaning as each new smell filled the room.

“Oh my god, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.”

Without another word, you dug into the food filling your plate with a lot of everything. Once you were satisfied with the bites you had taken you glanced back at Villie who was wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Glad to see your appetite has come back.”

You nodded and continued stuffing your face. Over the last few days, though you hadn’t vomited, you felt small bouts of nausea that came and went and the look of most of the hospital food left you not wanting to eat much. You’d worried it was going to be a permanent thing, but those worries were put to rest now.

“So, guess who he’s connected to,” Villie broached again.

“I don’t know,” you said mouth full of food.

Villie grabbed her phone and slid across her screen then held it up to you. When you looked, Lewis Hamilton’s face filled her screen. You gasped forgetting your mouthful of food then immediately began choking from the few particles that went down the wrong pipe.

“Oh my god!”

Villie leaped to her knees, patted your back with one hand, and poured some of the dark liquid from the bottle into a glass before she handed it to you. As you brought it to your nose your stomach turned from the strong scent of alcohol. You put the glass back on the table and shook your head. Villie kissed her teeth and then hurried to the kitchen before she came back with a bottle of water. You took several gulps in between coughs trying your best to dislodge the food that was stuck in your windpipe.

After a few attempts, you took a deep breath and hung your head back.

“Are you all right?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes from the tears that had slipped out.

“Jesus. I know the man is fine, fine but get a grip,” Villie teased.

You scoffed then pressed your palms to your face.

“Wait. Eh-em, you’re telling me the man I ran into is connected to him?”

“Yep. His name is Miles Chamley-Watson. He is the BFF to Lewis Hamilton, like for real BFF shit. They go everywhere together.”

Your eyes were bugged as you pieced it together. How small was this fucking world? How was this even real? The more you thought about it you began to wonder if he was in Mauritius with him. If so, did he know who you were?

“Oh my god.”

“Right! Like we kind of hit it off. I’m not gonna say there was flirting but there was flirting.”

“So you’re interested in him?”

Villie smiled as she drank down the glass of rum she’d poured for you. “I might be. What do you think? Do you think I shouldn’t be?”

How were you supposed to answer that? If she pursued things and they ended up becoming a thing didn’t that mean eventually one way or another you and Lewis would interact with one another? If you did wouldn’t he find out about the babies? If he found out--. The thought paused as a bigger item zipped itself up the agenda. Would he even remember you? He was after all Lewis Hamilton. You were sure there was no shortage of women he spent his time with. Why would he remember you from one night and 5 hours?

“Y/N?”

“Uh—um, well--.”

You saw the hope in her eyes and knew you couldn’t minipulate this because of your situation. Sighing you took her hand. “Valenza, I saw something between y’all. I say go with it and enjoy yourself. Who knows this could be it.”

Villie screeched then began laughing like an erratic high schooler who’d just learned their crush liked them back. Smiling you went back to eating. As Villie talked about Miles for a few more minutes your mind was lost in its own world. This shit was getting even more complicated.

~~~~~~~

4 Weeks Later

Your eyes never left the front door of 4057 Lake Drive Blvd. You’d been sitting in your car for the last 3 hours obsessively staring at the door with one hand on your steering wheel while the other rested on the door handle. You’d had every intention of getting out of your car and going inside 2 hours ago. However, that didn’t work out. Every time you tried to force your feet to move they didn’t. Instead, you sat outside the women’s health center as the time clicked closer and closer to your appointment until that same time clicked further and further away from your appointment time.

Now you were a whole 2 hours past your appointment time with no progress on getting out of the car. As you sat here you went over every single option over and over and over. You interjected every variable, every single con to every single choice. However, with every con, you found yourself seeing just as many pros. Now it was impossible to tell what the right decision was.

Never in your life had you thought you’d consider termination let alone a 2nd trimester one, but you were finding out that in most decisions no one knows what they would do until they are in it. You didn’t think you’d have unprotected sex with a stranger in your life but when the moment came you were one hundred percent DTF (down to fuck).

You closed your eyes for probably the hundredth time and took several deep, slow breaths. On the fifth one, you held it and allowed your heartbeat to steadily slow until it beat low and evenly. It was a trick you’d done most of your life to calm yourself and think clearly. When everything fell away, including the sounds of traffic, the sounds of the city you loved, and even the drum of your engine, you were left with your heartbeat and the rustling of the palm leaves. It was then that you felt the butterfly fluttering sensations again.

When you’d first felt them a week ago you hadn’t known what they were, and it took a few days to recognize what they were. Every Google search confirmed it—fetal movements. That was when it all became real and right now sitting in front of the health center where a doctor was waiting to perform your termination that you were now 2 hours late for because you were panicking and waiting for a sign to show you the right path to take, did it really become real.

Your hands left their current positions, the steering wheel and the door handle, and drifted to your belly which was now ever so slightly poked out. As if the minuscule beings inside of you knew your hands were there the fluttering intensified, crippling you with emotion. You dropped your head onto the steering wheel and allowed yourself to cry for the first time.

What could have been mistaken for sad tears weren’t. They were tears of resolution, tears of understanding, tears of acceptance—of fear. This was your sign, your answer, your path, and you were scared shitless. So your tears flowed down your cheeks and dripped all over you soaking your top. Even then you didn’t stop, you let it all out even turning up the music to drown out the sounds of your sobs.

From this moment forward, your life would never be the same and from this moment forward, you would face whatever came your way on this path with one thought in mind—what was best for your babies. When your tears finally subsided you wrapped your arms around your midsection, hugging yourself and the lives within you, and took a deep breath.

“Okay. I didn’t expect you and I surely didn’t plan you, but I won’t get rid of you. I hope you don’t regret choosing me because you’re stuck with me, and I promise I will do everything to protect you from today onward. Be gentle and patient with me and we’ll learn together.”

As if your words were heard, the flutters returned making you smile. pressing your head back on the headrest you sighed and tried to formulate a plan. That was when your phone rang sending audio caller ID off.

Villie calling. Villie calling. Villie calling.

You scoffed. Even the universe knew the plan was to tell Villie because she was good at coming up with a plan that ensured you were the primary benefiter. Truthfully, you should have told her weeks ago but since your release from the hospital she’d been spending a lot of time with Miles. Though he lived in the UK, they were always on Facetime dates, they’d now met up in London 3 times and you were sure she knew what Miles Jr looked like.

You hadn’t wanted to make things weird between them or add any stress given the truths of your situation. You really had wanted to keep things separate. Now with you deciding to keep the babies and raise them, there was no way you could keep everything from her anymore. She was your best friend after all. Tapping the answer button, you buckled yourself in.

“Hey V.”

“Hey. Where are you?”

“Umm--,” you stretched as you pulled out of the parking lot of the medical center and onto Berman Street.

“Getting on the highway, what’s up?”

“I feel like shopping. Are you down?”

“Yeah, tell me where to meet you.”

The drive through South Beach was unlike any drive you’d done before. Over the last few weeks, you’d been tense and stressed out to the max. It was evident in the way you gripped the steering wheel and sat in your seat. Now you felt differently. You were more relaxed, and more centered but also more cautious. You found yourself stopping and allowing more women and children cross even if they didn’t have the right of way, found yourself driving slightly below the speed limit and following every single traffic law that was in the driver’s manual that you’d neglected mere weeks before.

By the time you parked and fed your meter, you were 10 minutes late and intensely craving a massive green smoothie. After getting not one but two, you found Villie already well into her shopping in one of the lingerie stores.

“What took you so long?”

“Traffic and I needed a smoothie. So for you, shopping starts with lingerie.”

“Of course.”

You chuckled then began going through the racks. There were tons of cute stuff, but you knew soon you wouldn’t fit any of it and you had no one to wear any of this for. With that thought you looked at Villie.

“Valenza Tamina Chord, are you stocking up for a particular event?”

She smiled widely then walked off.

“No, no. Don’t try to slip away. What’s going on?”

“Miles is coming to town in a few weeks for a week and--.”

“You plan on getting your back broke, throat bruised, and internal organs rearranged. Okay!”

Villie giggled as she took down a navy blue strappy number that would look great on her and examined it.

“Okay I don’t know about throat bruised but the rest of it yep.”

You snorted and shook your head. “First of all, get that, it’ll look phenomenal on you. Second, let’s see if you have a voice when he comes.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, he is so cool, such a good guy.”

“He seems like it. I’m glad you’re having fun you deserve it.”

Villie’s eyes landed on you and for a few moments she studied you. “I’m not the only one who deserves it, you do too.”

You nodded and walked away to another rack and idly went through the hangers.

“I mean it. You’ve been single for long enough don’t you think?”

“I have a lot going on Villie. I don’t need another thing to worry about.”

“I understand what you mean but sometimes if it’s the right thing it doesn’t become a worry but something to bring you happiness, and peace.”

You sighed the words at the tip of your tongue but with no way to come out. This wasn’t something you could blurt out and be done with. You knew Villie, she would want to dissect everything on top of wanting a play-by-play of your dick down. This conversation couldn’t be had in the middle of a lingerie store.

“When do we meet the creative director of the station?”

“Boo! Always changing the subject. Fine, whatever. Next week is the meeting. Their name is Sadie Walters and she sent over some ideas for her vision along with some papers to understand your vision. So you got some homework.”

“Okay. I’m excited to get this off the ground and get back to traveling.”

“Workaholic. One day you will regret working so much and pushing your personal life to the side.”

You turned your back and quietly scoffed. If she only knew how little time you would have for a personal life in the next few years she’d take that back. For the next several hours you dipped in and out of almost every store adding bags and bags of clothes, shoes, makeup, and body products until you both were exhausted. After you had dinner at a nearby steakhouse where again you ate nearly everything in sight. When you both split at the end of the night you attempted to get the words out but still you couldn’t. You weren’t quite ready, and you worried you would be really showing before you were ever ready.

~~~~~~

-2 Weeks Later-

Pop!

The champagne bottle top flew across the room colliding into the wall, making everyone cheer and clap. After so many weeks of work with finishing up your catalog, the vacation wear line, and getting the behind-the-scenes stuff of your travel show down everything was signed, sealed, and done. Tomorrow was the release of your catalog and vacation wear line, and you were absolutely freaking out.

“Oh my god. Thank you everyone!”

You went around your office and hugged each and every one of the people who helped you get here. You wrapped your arms around Zavier and squeezed.

“Thank you Z, you made this catalog incredible. I cannot thank you enough!”

“Congratulations. You’re more than welcome.”

Next, you moved on to Sabrina and Chloe, the interns who’d been hired to maintain some of the back-end things. “Thank you beautiful souls.”

“You’re welcome!”

When you moved to Villie she rocked you side to side. That was when the waterworks started.

“Oh Villie, thank you, thank you!”

“Shut up. I don’t need thank yous. I am so happy for you. It’ll be no time now before you are bigger than Anthony Zimmerman.”

“Girl, we are not alike. He travels to eat everything; I travel to party.”

Everyone laughed at that. When Villie handed you a glass of champagne you froze.

“We have to drink to you and all that you’ve accomplished and to this amazing team of ours,” Villie said holding her glass up.

Everyone followed her and tapped their glasses together. You brought the glass to your lips, but you didn’t take a sip as they all did.

“Thank you guys so much for all your hard work and dedication to these projects. It means the world to me.”

You hoped they understood how much they meant to you though you couldn’t fully express it because if you did, you knew you would cry uncontrollably which would be weird. You were having a hard time keeping your emotions under control over the last two weeks as your pregnancy progressed. You saw a dandelion blow away from a hard gust of wind earlier and that made you cry for the poor dandelion that would never be seen again. With that, you knew your emotional state was highly unbalanced.

When the bottle of champagne disappeared, everyone started to file out to get on with their own days leaving you and Villie. You scrolled through the virtual catalog in complete awe. You couldn’t believe that after so many months it was over and would be out for the world to see. The pride you felt was indescribable. You’d accomplished this without using anyone's clout, or influence to elevate it. You didn’t have any major help, most of it was compiled by you using your skills and talents. It wasn’t until near the end had you brought on more expertise. This was your baby.

“I can’t believe this is done, V.”

She doesn’t reply. When you felt her approach, she pulled up a chair beside you then sighed. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me what’s been going on with you since you were released from the hospital.”

You paused and fought the rapid beating of your heart because you knew she would hear it in the quiet office. “Uh--.”

“I’ll give you a few moments to come up with what you are going to say to come clean with me but the words out of your mouth better be the truth. I’ve let you go for all this time but right now I’m getting offended and hurt that you don’t feel like you can talk to me.”

You spun to her and grabbed her hands. “No, no. Villie, that’s not it I swear!”

“No? Then what else could it be, Y/N?”

You sighed then found your words. Gripping her hands tighter you looked at her. “Okay look. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how and honestly I didn’t know until a few weeks ago and since then I have been a mess trying to wrap my head around it and future my shit out. It’s a lot happening.”

“Are you sick? Please don’t tell me you have cancer.”

“What? No! I don’t. I’m not sick.”

Villie let out a relieved huff of breath then took a steadying one. “Then what? What is going on?”

“I’m—I’m—pregnant.”

Villie just stared at you with a blank expression. She didn’t move, she didn’t even look as if she were breathing. Leaning forward you studied her closer trying to gauge just what she was thinking. Biting your bottom lip you prepared yourself to repeat the words but just as you opened your mouth to, Villie sprang to her feet.

“What! P—pr—pregnant?”

She walked to the far side of the office. “I know you fucking lying.”

“Uh--.”

“No. It’s a lie. There is no way. How did you get pregnant? When?”

You understood her reaction. You hadn’t told her about your night with Lewis because you didn’t want to be one of those girls who bragged about spending the night with a celebrity and you honestly were kind of embarrassed by everything that happened that night. You’d turned into a completely different person and when the sun rose, and you’d found your limbs entangled with his and your very naked bodies still connected under the massive palm tree that was tucked out of sight you’d felt stupid and easy so you ran as fast as you could without looking back. As far as she knew you’d been in a sex drought for 2 years.

“Y/N!”

“Calm down. I should be the one freaking out. I’m the pregnant one.”

Villie’s eyes widened.

“I’m not lying. I am pregnant. I found out at the hospital after the accident and that’s what’s been going on for the last few weeks. I was trying to wrap my head around it all and figure out what I wanted to do about it. Because of everything that I have going on I didn’t think I could continue this, so it’s been a stressful few weeks,” you rushed out.

Ville was still standing across the room and now looking at you like you had two heads. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“I’m not fucking with you. I promise.”

Instantly Villie crossed the room to you taking you into her arms and hugging the life out of you. “Oh, honey.”

With your best friend comforting you, your tears began flowing. When she heard your sniffles she pulled back and pouted. “You’re really pregnant?”

Nodding, you sniffled some more. Villie’s tear-filled eyes overflowed and the two of you hugged again and ugly cried together. Relief filled you as you relished the comfort of the one person who's had your back for over a decade. You weren’t alone with this anymore. You knew without a doubt that Villie would have your back the entire way.

When the two of you sat back down, you both wiped your tears and snot and laughed at each other for being so emotional about it.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god,” Villie repeated.

“I know, I know. It’s huge.”

“Huge? This is—colossal. You’re pregnant.”

You nodded, “I am.”

“You’re pregnant with a baby, like a real baby.”

“Ha, try two babies. Two real babies.”

Villie shot to her feet again.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Girl I nearly passed out when I found out.”

Villie screeched then and practically tackled you with another hug. “Twins! Aah, Y/N, how precious is that?!”

You snorted. Of course she would be the one to die over the cuteness of it all. Villie dropped back into the seat, then reached for your belly. When she realized it was not flat her eyes became the size of the moon.

“Holy fucking shit, Y/N. This feels so real.”

“Oh it’s real. It’s so real I have had to sideline 3 of my favorite pairs of jeans already and I’m not even halfway there yet.”

“So you’re keeping them, right? You better be keeping them.”

“I’m keeping them. I couldn’t do the procedure. It didn’t feel right in my heart.”

Villie nodded. “I get that. It’s different to hold my hand through mine than be the one in the stirrups getting your own. It’s a decision every woman has to make for herself.”

A few moments of silence stretched as both of you thought back to when Villie ended up pregnant barely one year into law school. Her then asshole boyfriend freaked and went as far as to transfer schools just to get away from the whole thing. After hours of tears, weeks of lamenting, and one in-depth heart to heart she decided it was best to terminate. So, you held her hand through the whole thing and per her request, the two of you never spoke of it again.

Squeezing her hand for comfort, you continued, “It was simply too late for me to have a clear conscious about it. Then I got a sign showing me what to do and—yeah, here we are.”

Villie squeezed your hand again. “Well, I am happy for you honey. You are going to be an amazing mom.”

You groaned. “Mom. V, this is insane. The show, the catalog, the line, all the traveling I’m going to be doing, the chaos of filming. I can’t do this, right?”

“Of course you can do this. You’re not going to be alone doing it either. I will be here. I will be with you for every single thing, ultrasounds, Lamaze, nursery planning, hospital bag packing, birth, and every day after. You’re not alone and you can do this,” she assured in her attorney voice.

Slowly you nodded as her words sank in filling you with confidence. Suddenly Villie gasped.

“Hold up. When did this happen? Who!?”

You let her hand go, stood, and grabbed your stuff.

“Let’s go to my place.”

Villie looked cautiously at you. “Oh god, is it Zavier?”

“What! Hell no.”

“What do you mean hell no? Zavier is fine as hell. You have seen his abs right and his tight ass?”

“Oh my god V, stop sexualizing Z.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking if you have seen his abs and his ass.”

“Yes, I have seen them and yes they are great.”

“Not to mention he is crushing so hard on you, has been for like a year now.”

“Shut up, he hasn’t.”

Villie rolled her eyes as she walked out the door first. “Oblivious fool. Can’t stand you bitches who don’t notice when you have men wrapped around your finger. until it's too late”

You snorted, “Who you calling a fool?”

The bickering continued as you made your way to your cars. When you separated to drive there separately, you made a quick stop at the Cuban spot near your house and once again picked up enough food for an army. When you got home Villie was already waiting for you. She helped you line out the food on the coffee table and get drinks ready, then you dug in. Halfway through eating Villie turned to you to press further.

“I know you’ve been stalling. Spill it already. Is he some struggling cartel clown who thinks he's next in line but is still the errand boy?”

“God no.”

“One of these struggling Miami rappers who swear they got bars but really don't understand the meaning of the word?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Oh, a struggling underwear model who--.”

“Why do they all have to be struggling?”

“Because you’re stalling which means you’re either embarrassed of him or you regret letting him hit and most likely it’s because you’re ashamed of who he is.”

“I’m not—embarrassed or ashamed of him per se.”

“Okay if not who, then tell me when. When did this happen?”

“Mauritius.”

Her eyes widened again.

“Holy shit, did you Stella Got Her Groove Back on some hot barely legal island bway and brought back your very own Mauritian souvenirs.”

You busted out laughing sending food out of your mouth and onto the floor beside you.

“Wait, wait, wait. Barely legal isn’t my thing and since when have I been out of commission long enough to Stella Got Her Groove Back on anyone?!”

“It’s been 2 years, Y/N. You’re honeytrap was growing cobwebs.”

You laughed loudly again loving the feeling. It had been too long since you’d laughed like this.

“First of all. Fuck you!”

Villie laughed along with you.

“No, it’s who fucked you?”

You hugged her and rocked from side to side.

“Oh I love you Villie.”

“Love you too honey. That doesn’t mean I am letting this go. Tell me already.”

“Fine. Lewis Hamilton.”

Villie gave you a “yeah right” look then busted out laughing. She laughed so long that it gave you more time to keep eating. Slowly she realized you weren’t laughing with her and slowly she stopped.

“I didn’t mean lie to my face.”

“Who’s lying?”

Villie stared at you for a few moments then you watched every cell in her body light up until her face was bright and her eyes wide. That’s when it happened. She screamed. You nodded your head because it was either this reaction you’d expected or the complete disbelief. You’d gotten them both.

“No fucking way!”

“Oh yes fucking way.”

“You had sex with Lewis Hamilton in Mauritius? Oh ho ho, details. I need every single piece of information starting with who said the first word to whom, moving on to are his hands as big as they seem, then what he smells like, then can he kiss, then not skipping any minuscule detail like boxers or briefs, circumcised or not and finally how big and can he lay pipe.”

She screeched again, grabbed her bottle of beer, turned to you then cleared her throat. “Okay, begin.”

She was an absolute trip. You spent the few hours going over every detail of that night that you dared to with Villie. You even let her know how free you’d been with yourself and all the things you’d let him do to you, all the ways you’d let him have you and claim your body. With every piece of info, Villie looked like she was near an aneurysm. When you told her how you’d let him into your back door she lost her shit. She screamed so loud you were sure your neighbors would call the police thinking foul play was afoot.

By the time you finished, Villie was laid out on her back with a dazed look on her face staring at the ceiling as if she had been the one who’d gone through probably the best night of fucking ever recorded by man or woman. You gave her a few minutes to recover and let it all sink in and used the time to finish off the food.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

Villie sat up panting, her hair a mess.

“Are you good?”

“Am I? Are you? All of that went down?”

“All of that went down. I got back to my hotel room and didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.”

“You a freak, freak, freak!”

Both of you laughed some more.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know. Mauritian rum is no fucking joke.”

“No. I can’t believe you left him there naked in the sand. Why!?”

“What? Why? You’re joking. I couldn’t stay.”

“Why?”

“Because it was over, it was one night and—I—I,” you sighed. “I was embarrassed. I felt like a fool.”

“You were embarrassed to have slept with Lewis Hamilton?”

“Partly. You’ve heard the rumors about him, heard the stories of him having a harem and contractual relationships that center around sex and extravagance, and here I went and fell for him.”

“Wait, fell for him, fell for him?”

You sighed and thought back to your conversation and the vibe between you.

“I don’t know. I’d had a lot to drink that night and was on a high after that folk dance with the island’s natives and there was something when our eyes met through the flames of the fire. There was something that made me fall enough to let all that go down.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know him. I don’t know I felt like I became this whole other person that I have never been before but it didn’t feel like a mask or me pretending and it makes me wonder why did it come out with him and not anyone else?”

Villie nodded. “So instead of finding out why by staying till he woke up, you ran away and brought back 2 souvenirs with his DNA that you now have to find a way to tell him about.”

“Tell him? Why would I tell him?”

Villie looked at you with incredulity. “You’re joking.” She stared at you longer then scoffed when she realized you weren’t. “No, Y/N, you have to tell him. Don’t you think he deserves to know he will have 2 children running around with his DNA?”

“---No.”

“Y/N--.”

“Okay wait. I can see how you would say yes and well—maybe—yes. Fuck. How do I tell him this Villie? Do I just DM him on Insta and be like hey remember me? He probably won’t if the stories are true he’s had nights like this plenty of times. What do I say?”

“Who cares about the stories, the rumors, and any of that other noise. Right now you are pregnant and you’ve decided to keep the babies—his babies. You have to tell him and let him figure out if he remembers you, and decide what he plans on doing. Whatever he decides won’t affect you. If he decides to man up great then you figure it out. If he decides to deny, deny, deny then fine, move on.”

You heard her words. They made plenty of sense, but you were still apprehensive. You didn’t want to be perceived as that girl. The one who showed up with a pregnancy from one night or a situationship where terms were clear.

“This is messy, Villie.”

“It is but what isn't messy these days? Oh my god, Miles.”

You looked at her as she finally thought about her connection to all of this.

“He’s his bestie right, and now your boo thang.”

Villie smiled at those words then scoffed. “The world is so fucking small.”

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

The two of you sat quietly for a few moments both in your own heads about your situation.

“Well, you have an in to talk to him when you’re ready to tell him about the pregnancy.”

“What in? Miles?”

“Yeah. We’ll tell him and ask if he can get you a face-to-face.”

“Face to face? Villie.”

“Is this the kind of news you really want to send over socials, text messages, or word of mouth?”

You hated when she was right.

“Also from a legal standpoint, if you kept this from him now and he somehow found out years down the line, he could file a lawsuit against you and seek damages.”

“From little ol' me?”

“If he was feeling really butt hurt, that’s the minimum of what he could do legally,” Villie confirmed.

You sighed then dropped back onto the floor. Your hands instantly went to your stomach and you felt your slight bump. This shit was messy and had the potential to get even messier. Villie was right though, you did have to tell him, it was the right thing to do.

Looking at it from a different angle, it was better to say "Hi remember me, oops I’m pregnant" than not and wonder what if.

You closed your eyes and groaned. Your life had turned upside down in the span of a few months and once again it was all because of the things you’d done in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #what we did in the dark series

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tomscumdoll · 3 months

Note

Make a story where the reader is an employee, kinda intern, but Tom never cared about but her Even though she has a crush on him and is extremely attractive, he wanted to be ethical and not get involved with her, buuuut one night at a the end of a concert he goes to the dressing room stressed and like... He takes out the stress (inside🫦) her, in a very rough way😝☝🏻

im so sorry this took like a week to make but i did it! please tell me if you like it 😞

Professional

CHARACTERS: 2008 Tom & f!reader

CONTENT: FLUFF + SMUT

WARNINGS: oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), that's it

A/N: i finished this at 12:09 am help and i started 2 days ago 😣

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

You were part of the stage crew for Tokio Hotel, you know setting up the stage, making sure the mics are on, making sure the light cues were correct. Your job had its pros which were, getting a free concert almost every week, being friends with all the band members, and seeing Tom every day. But it also had its cons which were, staying up late cleaning the stage after a concert, waking up early to start the stage, and seeing Tom everyday.

You had the biggest crush on him and everyone knew. It was pretty obvious. But, Tom had stated he wanted to keep things between him and his employees strictly professional. It broke your heart knowing he didn't want you. But, you fought through the hurt and continued doing your job.

One night before a set, Tom seemed more quiet and irritable than usual. Every small thing you would do he would glare at you and to be honest it was scary but, it kinda turned you on. You went into his dressing room to make sure everything was ready when someone came in and slammed the door. It frightened you and you turned around only to see that it was Tom. He closed the gap between you guys in 3 long strides. You got nervous and flustered.

"Oh, Tom! I was just making sur-" You were cut off by him smashing his lips onto yours. Your eyes widened but you slowly melted into his touch and reciprocated the movements. His strong arms wrapped around your waist as your arms went around his neck. His hands roamed all over body, as he slowly unbuttoned your shirt. One by one. He increasingly got impatient as his fingers fumbled with the buttons and he just ripped your shirt, the sound of buttons hitting the ground filled the room. His eyes raked over your body like you were his prey. He took your bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged, a shiver of pain and pleasure ran through your body.

He released your bottom lip and picked you up and threw you on the couch that was in there. You let out a slight yelp as you landed, and looked up at him with those submissive eyes of yours, biting your lip, already dripping wet for him. He looked down at you with a devilish smirk, his eyes filled with lust and desire for you. He leaned down, his eyes never leaving yours, your nose touching his, and he spoke in this lust filled voice that almost sent you over the edge. He said,

"I'm gonna fuck your little brains out."

That one sentence alone made you want bend over for him and let him do whatever he wants but, you had to be patient. He pressed his lips against yours, a little more gently this time. He gently pushed you against the back of the couch, his big hand running up your thighs to the hem of your pants, gently tugging and tugging until he had the pooled around your ankles. He pulled away from your lips, and went down, closer and closer to your dripping wet entrance. Your eyes followed him, your lip hurting from how much you were biting it. Those eyes, goddammit, those beautiful brown chocolate eyes. So beautiful yet, so dangerous. He was so alluring, you couldn't help it! Your thoughts were interrupted by his ministrations, your fingers tangled in his dreads, pulling them gently, head falling back against the couch, soft moans escaping your lips.

His tongue, plus the feeling of his lip ring, lapping up your juices almost sent you over the edge right then and there. Your moans increasingly got louder and louder with each stroke. He removed his mouth and you let out a soft whine, a pang of disappointment went through your chest, not wanting him to stop.

"W-Why'd you stop..?" You whispered breathlessly, looking down at him through the lust filled haze.

"So that I can do this." He said lowly, his voice husky. Before you could even process the words, there's two fingers inside you. You let out cry of pleasure, loud enough that people in the fucking arena could here you. Tom was watching your face contort into one of pleasure with a smug look on his face. The movements of fingers plunging in and out of you was too much. Your eyes squeezed shut each time you cried, closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. As his fingers plunged into, you came all over his fingers, letting out a loud moan.

He gently removed his fingers from you, licking the white liquid of his fingers. He gently got off the floor and looked at you with a more softer looked and kissed you way more softer this time. He pulled you close to his chest, his fingers tangling in your hair. As you guys kissed, there was knock on the door.

"Tom! You're on in 15! Hurry!" The voice yelled behind the door, you realized it was the stage manager and your boss. He would be pissed if he found you guys like this. You guys pulled away from each other and scrambled to get up. Your shirt was ruined and you were left in your shorts. Tom quickly gave you one of his shirts and you threw it on, you fixed your hair and made sure you don't look at hot mess. You both walked out there, looking down at the floor. Tom walked right pass the stage manager and went to go get ready while you stood next to him awkwardly. Your boss glared at you and just looked at the stage when he went on. In the middle of set, he looked to the left wing where you were and winked. You blew a kiss and he blew one back.

Best. Night. Ever.

#bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz #2000s #tokio hotel #y2k #y2k aesthetic #2000s aesthetic #tom kaulitz smut

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 7 months

Text

Unpredictable, Part 10-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: It's been a long time coming but it's here. The next part will be the finale. Thank you all so much for your support. I love reading all your replies and messages :)

Content warnings: Swearing and some violence

Word count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist

Many experts are concerned with the pervasiveness of serial killers in a supe society. Some people propose intense ideas, like using AI or supes with predictive abilities to kill potential serial killers beforehand. Others…

I paused my fingertips over the keyboard and sighed. “It’s okay, just breathe and think of the words. Dr. Melrose is one of the nicer professors, anyway.”

Then, my fingertips started moving again.

Others think this is too extreme and argue that serial killers have a right to live as much as anyone else. Which is the dumbest idea on planet earth.

Nope, can’t submit that.

I punched my thumb on the backspace button and stared at my two semi-decent sentences. Then, I glanced down at the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen and sighed.

The essay had a minimum fifteen-page requirement and it took me an hour to come up with two sentences.

I groaned and leaned back against the swivel chair and stared up at the stark white ceiling. Last year’s campus library renovation included an impressive update of the study rooms, including making them sound-proof, power-proof, and equipped with the most state-of-the-art technology.

My textbooks and notebooks were sprawled around the table, each with color-coded highlights and meticulous notes that did nothing but make my head spin. Usually, I spent most of my writing time trimming down my page length, especially when it came to ethical issues around crimefighting. But my brain couldn’t focus despite the distraction-free environment.

No matter what I did, I kept picturing the looks on Jordan and Marie’s faces when I told them I couldn’t go to the town hall. They both looked like I had taken away a large chunk of their hope.

But I couldn’t have been that helpful anyway, I thought harshly.

Sure, I helped them gather information and connected some dots but anyone could have done that.

I clapped. “Y/N, you have to stop thinking about them and the town hall. You need to finish this paper.”

Just when I grazed my keyboard, the study room door swung open. I jumped and turned to ask the person to leave, but stopped when I saw Coco standing in the doorway. In her cropped black Tommy Hilfiger blazer and matching cigarette pants, she looked like a debate moderator. Her hair fell in perfect curls and her eyes slightly narrowed at me.

“Hey, you could have knocked,” I said as light-heartedly as I could.

Coco let the door close softly behind her before sauntering over to me. “My bad, I was in a hurry. I thought I’d find you here since you weren’t at the house.”

Coco’s tone was much shorter than usual and she kept her gaze on me. My stomach churned and I straightened up.

“Coco, it was a directive from Sydney, not me,” I explained.

Coco sighed. “I don’t know why I thought I could surprise you when you know everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Anyway, what the hell is that directive about? How does she want to ‘pursue our ambitions’ but not voice our opinions?” Coco scoffed. “I knew her whole I-care-about-all-women schtick was bullshit.”

“Did you talk to her about it?” The look Coco gave me made me shrink back into my chair.

“Why do you let her walk all over you? She made you do her dirty work.”

“As a secretary, I do have to send out communications about a variety of things; it’s part of my role. Besides, it wasn’t my decision.”

“Don’t hide behind your role, Y/N. You’ll do anything to stay good with them, even if it means missing out on a historical moment.”

I hesitated. This would not be the last time that two polar opposite politicians would face off on core issues, but it would be the first time that the main issue was supes.

“I get that you care about this since it’s your major and everything but, I have to set a good example for the other girls and the initiates.”

Coco rolled her eyes. “Do you know what the other girls and initiates are doing? They’re arguing with Sydney right now and some are trying to figure out if a shapeshifter can somehow change their appearances. Everyone wants to be a part of it; Sydney’s just scared of fallout and I know that you know that.”

While I did have many ideas about why Sydney made the decision she did, it didn’t matter. I tried to push back but it failed and I had to deal with the consequences.

“I know she’s trying to protect Si Chi’s legacy and reputation and even if I don’t agree with it, I don’t have a choice.”

“Damn it, Y/N, you always have a choice! You always choose to follow the rules but guess what? Rule followers get forgotten in history; it’s the people who stir up shit that gets remembered.”

I glanced at my laptop. “Not always.”

“Well, most of the time but that’s not the point.” Coco pulled the chair from the other side of the table around and sat next to me. “You could do some real shit in the real world if you weren’t so caught up in your own head.”

Her words made me pause. This wasn’t the first time that Coco tried to push me to “think bigger” and it was usually flattering. This time, I felt myself get more and more nauseous.

I sipped some water. “I don’t think you always have to rebel to create change.”

“There’s a time for everything.” Coco leaned back in her chair and glanced at her phone. “I have to start walking to the union before everything gets too crazy. I hope you’ll have my back at the house.”

She didn’t wait for a reply and slipped out of the room almost as quietly as she entered. Immediately, I slumped in my chair and pouted.

Not everyone could be like Coco and take risks like that. In her situation, rankings didn’t matter, she just had to graduate and network like crazy. It was different for me and anyone else who was trying to at least get a city contract; rebellion did not look good on a resume.

Coco isn’t the only one risking their reputation, my brain reminded me.

I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face. Even though Jordan was always hellbent on climbing to number one, they wanted to expose everything happening at GOD U. According to Cate, Jordan had a whole meltdown when Andre and Marie’s rankings forced them to number five. Despite all that, they wanted to do the right thing.

And then there was Marie. She’d unexpectedly received everything any GOD U student could want on a silver platter: a high ranking, backing from Vought, and promotions on social and regular media. But she never wavered when it came to the Woods.

And it’s not like I didn’t want to go to the town hall, I couldn’t. There would be cameras everywhere and the news would get back to Sydney faster than A-Train. Her icy glare sent a chill down my spine at the thought.

I shook my head.

I can’t focus on any of that, I had to focus on this essay.

Finally, I started writing:

Other people suggest that such practices are much too inhumane and that serial killers must experience early interventions as soon as possible. However, in such a situation, it is near-impossible to determine the best practices much less who would deliver them.

I smiled to myself as I kept writing and breathed a sigh of relief once I finished my thesis statement.

“Great, now all I have to do is----”

“Y/N, what the hell!” Emma demanded.

I jumped and turned to the study room door. Emma’s face was beet-red and she had detergent stains all over her sweatpants. The door slammed behind her as she stormed over to me.

“What?” I asked.

Emma shook her head. “You know what. I just got off a video call with Marie; what the hell happened?”

My stomach dropped and I almost let my head plant on the desk.

At this point, it was like the two of them were haunting me. After a couple of deep breaths, I explained Sydney’s order and how I had to break the news to Marie and Jordan. As I spoke, Emma’s expression became more solemn.

“Why would you do that? Things were going so well,” Emma mused.

“I have to keep my position in Si Chi, Emma, and I can’t do anything that messes with it.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

I hesitated, wondering if it was a little bit of both. Emma plopped down in the chair and dropped her bag on the ground.

“I know that you’re a good-two-shoes but you’re not that way all the time. I mean, you do regularly sneak off campus with the others,” Emma pointed out.

“Not so loud. You never know who could be listening,” I insisted.

“Anyway, I get that your parents really screwed you up but, when do you get to live your life?”

The last part sounded like something a really good therapist would say. Even if those words did come from a therapist, I still wouldn’t know how to answer. Every move I made since middle school was to get me to be a successful (married/engaged) supe and that was always enough for me. Mom and Dad both seemed please with each stride I made towards that goal, but it was always limited and I never stopped to think about what I wanted.

All I knew was that I was dying to know why Shetty wanted Cate and me to be friends, how long the Woods existed, and why she created the virus. I also knew that the thought of Jordan or Marie getting hurt because of all this made my chest ache.

I fidgeted with my hands. “I am living my life.”

“Are you? Do you really want to be in the library while everyone’s at the town hall? Do you really want to give up on looking into all of this?”

I snapped my eyes up at Emma. “Of course, I want to go but I also have to play it smart. Why can’t anyone understand that?” I sighed. “I just got here, Emma, and I don’t want to lose it, I can’t lose it.”

Emma frowned. “You didn’t try to look into the future about this.”

She was confident and her gaze never left mine. I wanted to push back but, there was no point. Out of everyone, Emma knew me best and there was no point in hiding. So, I explained everything about my power loss to her. The words felt like I was digging my nails into an open wound and I could feel my throat constricting towards the end.

“Shit,” she muttered.

I nodded. “I really can’t do anything out of line now; I have no leverage for Si Chi and if they found out my powers are gone, they’d kick me out immediately. Plus, I’ll get expelled, and then what? Work for my mom or dad?”

“I’m really sorry about your powers, Y/N, but you don’t know that they’re gone for good. Plus, there are plenty of other ways you can be successful here and once you graduate. You could write a tell-all book, work in research, or model like I’ve been telling you to do forever!”

I snorted at her words, which made Emma burst out laughing. I don’t know how long we laughed for, but it felt good. However, when it stopped, a realization dawned on me.

“I don’t know, Emma, things don’t tend to work out for me if I don’t follow a plan,” I expressed.

Emma wiped some tears from her eyes. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my powers going away because Cate’s brainwashed or getting caught up in a conspiracy that could get us all killed or maybe having your new boyfriend attack me.”

Emma flushed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes. “But that all happened because I was going off the plan. I was supposed to focus and crack the Top Fifteen this year.”

“But Jordan and Marie weren’t in your plan, and they were pretty good.”

I sighed and rested my head on the desk. At first, I thought our conversation was going so well but then Emma had to bring them up.

“And it’s over before anything really even started.” I propped my chin up on my hands. “But that’s probably a good thing since I need to stay on track. I’ve only gone up to Sixteen.”

Emma pursed her lips and straightened up. Wordlessly, she stood and slowly made her way to the other side of the table. She paced back and forth for a second before slamming her hands down on the desk.

“No, you don’t get to talk like that. In our fifteen years of friendship, I have never seen you look at or act the way you do with Marie and Jordan. You look so happy, and you deserve to be happy, I don’t care what anyone else says and you need to start believing that.”

For a second, I thought my vision blurred but it was the tears welling up in my eyes. I willed them to stay away for a second.

“But what about Si Chi?” I wondered.

Emma groaned. “If they’re going to kick you out because you went to the town hall to be with your girlfriend and partner, then they’re idiots.” Emma stood. “But you have to decide which is more important.”

The issue was that the thought of losing either of them made me nearly hyperventilate. Si Chi was a beacon of social acceptance, but Marie and Jordan made me feel accepted. No matter how uncomfortable I felt sobbing in front of them or not wanting either of them to see me in bad lighting or makeup-less, they made me comfortable.

“They don’t want me back. They’re both…unstoppable and I’ve proven to be the exact opposite.”

“Come on, Y/N, stop with the self-doubt. I can promise you, Marie and Jordan want to be with you too, they just don’t know how to reach out.” She smirked. “You should have heard Jordan ranting about how they’d knock Sydney out of her power trip; Marie had to cut the call short to calm them down.”

I laughed a little at that. “Jordan always said that Sydney was the most mediocre telekinetic on campus.”

“But the point is they both still care a lot about you. They’re obviously hurt but you’re not totally unforgivable.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

“And if they did break up with, you always have me whenever I’m not with Sam.”

“Gee, thanks. Where is he, anyway?” “Locked away in my dorm. Could you imagine him out there in the craziness?”

“Yes.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue but got cut off by her phone alarm going off. “I have to go switch out the laundry. I hope one cycle is enough to get blood out.”

When she left, I mulled over everything we talked about. Were she and Coco on the same wavelength or something? In both conversations, I could have started screaming at either of them but buried deep down, I knew that they both had good points.

Brink was always saying how we have to take calculated risks as heroes and it was important to minimize the damage. Even though he wasn’t my favorite professor, he did have some good points.

Maybe there was a way to minimize the damage with Si Chi and my relationship.

The thought made my hands shake as I packed up my things.

Fifteen minutes later, I was desperately trying to stop my shoulders from hiking up any further to my ears as I walked to the union. The protestors’ shouts all across the green were deafening and did nothing for my pounding head and heart. Throughout the crowd, several people were filming for social media and I did my best to avoid them.

After a few minutes, I spotted Jordan and Marie standing a couple of yards away from a side entrance that was guarded by two burly men. My heart skipped a beat as I watched their focused eyes on each other as they spoke.

Here goes nothing.

I slowly sauntered up to them, my mind racing with something, anything decent to say.

“…well, we have to figure out a way in,” Jordan muttered.

“Hi,” I chirped.

When they both faced me, I had to force myself not to try to run. Marie’s eyebrows raised and Jordan slightly narrowed her eyes at me.

“What are you doing here?” Jordan asked.

I swallowed. “I’ve had a couple of pretty intense conversations that helped me realize that you were both right: the Woods is bigger than GOD U and I should help expose it. I’m sorry about earlier, I was scared and I still am but, I want to help in any way that I can.”

The next couple of seconds felt like a million years. Finally, Marie smiled and relaxed.

“Does this mean that you don’t care about Si Chi anymore?” she asked.

“No, I’m petrified of all the cameras but I’m trying really hard not to think about it,” I admitted.

“Well, it’s a good first step. We’d love your help,” Marie declared.

Jordan paused before sighing. “Just don’t run off again.”

I agreed. “So, you’re looking for a way in?”

Marie nodded. “But we can’t get past those two without causing a scene.”

If I had my powers, solving that would have been easy but I was on my own. I glanced at the two burly guards and cocked my head.

“Did you try flirting?” I asked.

“No, and don’t even think about it,” Jordan threatened.

I turned to her. “You’re jealous about a suggestion?”

Jordan shrugged and Marie chuckled.

“Fine, that’s off the table.”

“Do you know a teleporter?” Marie asked.

“Well, there’s Gia Sharpe from Beta Ro but she’s probably inside already,” I offered.

Jordan started rolling her eyes but paused and grinned when she saw something. “That might not be necessary.”

Marie and I followed her gaze and I gasped when it landed on Justine and Renee. The two were standing on a nearby green and Justine was trying to direct Renee to hold the camera to really capture her dismayed expression. I slid behind Marie and put my head down.

“What’s wrong?” Marie asked.

I huffed. “It’s Justine.”

“Do you two have issues besides what she did to Emma?” Jordan asked.

“Sort of. She and her friend tried to rush Si Chi and after everything with Emma, I couldn’t let that happen,” I explained.

“And?” Marie prompted.

“And, I explained my concerns to the other sorority presidents, including Sydney and none of them wanted to promote her behavior.”

Marie smirked and Jordan’s grin deepened.

“You blackballed that bitch from every sorority?” Jordan teased.

“No, I just gave the other presidents information I thought they could use,” I defended.

“That’s pretty badass, Y/N,” Marie stated.

I smiled as my stomach flipped. “Anyway, I know that she doesn’t know that I did it but I have a feeling that she would take any opportunity to make me look bad.”

Jordan glanced at me for a second before turning her gaze back on Justine. Jordan’s jaw clenched and there was a new glint in their eyes that only appeared right before a fight. As she started approaching them, I moved to stand next to Marie.

“What are you doing?” Marie whispered.

“Causing a distraction,” Jordan called over her shoulder.

I gulped and stared as Jordan called Justine before delivering a right hook to her jaw. Justine stumbled for a second before straightening up, her jaw askew. She snapped it back into place with a flick of her hand and hissed something back at Jordan. Seconds later, Jordan was beaming in the middle of a full-on brawl.

“Does Jordan always get like this when they fight?” Marie asked.

“Yes. One time, they almost got us kicked out of a club because they sent a group of guys to the hospital.”

“Almost?”

“Cate.”

“Oh.”

I smiled as Jordan dodged one frat boy’s sloppy left side kick only to spin him to collide with another frat boy that was approaching her from behind. “They look really good when they fight, though.”

Suddenly, the guards rushed past us, and Marie grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go before you start drooling.”

Victoria’s makeshift green room was immaculate and complete with various notes for the town hall and water bottles and snacks. She also looked immaculate in her navy-blue suit and perfectly coiffed dark hair. Her eyes were wide, eerily wide, and it felt like she saw everything. Those eyes watched Marie with intensity as she explained everything with the Woods and handed over the drive.

Victoria rubbed her thumb over the device and pursed her lips. “What you just expressed to me is a serious matter. Have you told anyone else?”

“We don’t trust anyone else,” Marie answered.

“Understandable.” Victoria’s slow head nod made my blood boil and I didn’t know why. “Of course, I will get this into the right hands as soon as possible.”

“And we won’t get in trouble?” I asked.

Victoria faced me. “Of course not. If anything, you and your friends should be heralded as heroes. However, I understand your concerns and appreciate your courage in coming to me.”

I nodded stiffly. “Thank you for your time. You probably have plenty of other last-minute town hall things to do.”

“Yeah, thanks for listening,” Marie agreed as she stood.

“I do but, I also wanted to speak with Marie for a moment, alone.”

Her words made my heart rate pick up and I could hear several alarms going off in my head. Something was off with Victoria but I didn’t know what and I couldn’t just drag Marie out of there with no explanation.

I turned back to Marie, and she nodded. Slowly, I stood and one of Victoria’s assistants guided me out of the room. I couldn’t stop myself from pacing up and down the hallway. There was no telling what they were talking about, and I hated not knowing.

If only---

No, that won’t be helpful. I just had to be patient and wait for her.

But patience was hard when my gut felt so uneasy like it was on a rocking boat. I’d never met Victoria until then and I knew Coco thought she was an acceptable candidate. So, I had no cause to feel the way that I was feeling.

Maybe it was paranoia or stress; both were known to make people perceive things differently.

But my intuition was never wrong.

Finally, Marie walked out of the green room, her eyes wide but she seemed okay.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Marie started rambling but I got the gist: Victoria was a supe with the exact same powers as Marie, she and Marie were both in the same facility as kids, and Victoria was Marie’s benefactor.

“She even told me about how she can see people’s internal organs and that it happens when you focus enough,” Marie gushed.

“That’s cool,” I mused.

The sunlight was refreshing when we got outside but it didn’t distract from the rowdy protests in front of the union. Each “Supe Lives Matter” sign made me cringe but both sides were extremely passionate. It was hard to understand why people loathed finding a middle ground so much.

“What’s wrong?” Marie asked.

“Nothing, I’m glad that we handed over the information and she was receptive,” I stated.

Marie frowned. “You’re holding back.”

The last thing I wanted to do was start a fight and I could already feel the roots of tension appearing.

“I just…I don’t have a good feeling about Victoria,” I confessed.

Marie paused in her steps and I hesitated before facing her. “What do you mean? She was our best option and she’s the one who got me in here, she can’t be that bad.”

“I know and I’m not saying she is, I just feel like something’s off.”

“Don’t start that self-sabotaging bullshit,” Marie warned.

“I’m not. You and Jordan want me to be honest and that’s what I’m trying to do. I can’t ignore my gut, Marie.”

Marie opened and closed her mouth several times. The furrow between her eyebrows was deeper than usual and I wished that I knew the best thing to say. It was difficult to tell my girlfriend that I was happy that she knew who her benefactor was but that I was also suspicious of said benefactor.

“Let’s go find Jordan,” Marie muttered.

I quietly agreed and followed Marie to the protest area since that’s where most people were. Even though I saw a couple of Greek Life people I knew, I couldn’t find Jordan.

It’s hard to say what exactly started it but in an instant, I was caught up in a sea of protestors pushing and shoving each other. Then, the shoves turned into punches and kicks. I saw several teeth get punched out of heads and people resetting their broken noses before going back in for more. All I could do was my best to dodge all the mayhem and in it, my stomach sunk when I realized that I’d lost Marie.

“Marie? Marie!” I called.

I thought I was being loud but I quickly got drowned out by the yells and grunts of the protestors. A burly jock lunged for me but I grabbed the back of his collar used the momentum to send him flying into the people behind me. I kept trying to call for Marie but got distracted by all the jostling.

Breathe, just breathe, Y/N, I thought.

Then, someone grabbed the back of my right arm and yanked me through the crowd. I yelped at the strength but couldn’t fight back as I was finally pulled to a fairly clear sidewalk. The same someone grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face them and I sighed when I made eye contact with Marie.

“Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?” Her eyes frantically searched my face and she felt all over me for any bruises. “You have some blood on your dress.”

I gasped. “Is it mine?”

Marie shook her head and hugged me.

“There you two are, we’ve gotta get out of here!” Jordan rushed as he approached us.

Marie and I pulled away and trailed after Jordan. After a few minutes, we stopped at a clear green and I slumped against a tree.

“You didn’t get in trouble for the fight?” Marie asked.

“They didn’t catch me,” he said with a wide smirk. “How did things with Neuman go?”

“Good, she actually listened to us and said she was going to hand over everything to the proper channels.” Jordan nodded. “Did she say what would happen to Shetty?”

“She wasn’t sure but probably firing,” Marie reported before glancing at me.

I huffed and pushed myself to lean straighter against the tree.

“How long will it take?” Jordan asked.

“She didn’t say,” I answered.

“But, she’ll do it; she actually wants to help, Jordan,” Marie insisted.

Then, Jordan looked at me and I glanced down at my shoes.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asked.

“Y/N’s suspicious of Victoria even though she’s willing to help us,” Marie said.

“I just have a bad feeling and I was trying to be honest,” I defended. “Plus, Jordan brought up a good question. She never gave us a timeline or the names of those she would be speaking with. There are kids still down there.”

“I’m sure Victoria will be as quick as possible. If she was willing to help me, she must be willing to help others.”

“Wait, what?” Jordan asked.

“Victoria’s my donor,” Marie explained.

“That’s amazing.” Jordan paused and looked at me. “I’m not gonna pick sides or anything but, you both have good points. Neuman is our best option to expose the Woods and have people listen. Y/N has sensitive intuition, and she might be picking up on something. But, no one should be fighting right now, especially since we just made up.”

“I didn’t mean to start a fight,” I pleaded.

“It’s not a fight, it’s a disagreement and I’m okay with dropping it for now if you are,” Marie offered.

I nodded.

“Good.” Jordan stepped closer to me and frowned. “You got caught up in the brawl.”

“I don’t think it was long, though, and I’m not hurt. Marie found me but I was able to evade several people; I even threw a guy further into the crowd.”

Jordan smiled. “That’s my freshie.”

I didn’t have long to bask in the praise since my vision was overrun with the clearest image I’d had in a long time. Cate was standing in Shetty’s pristine living room and the older woman was cowering against the wall, eyes blown wide with fear and shaking her head.

“Cate, please, don’t do this, you don’t have to do this,” Shetty’s voice echoed.

“Yes, I do, you gave me no other choice.” Cate’s voice was hollow and her eyes were bloodshot. Then, my gaze fell down to her hands and in one, she held a sizable butcher knife.

When I blinked, Jordan, Marie, Emma, and Sam were looking back at me. I flinched a little.

“Do you zone out a lot?” Sam asked.

“No, Y/N just had a vision,” Emma replied with a grin.

I slightly nodded and pushed myself off the tree. “We need to get to Cate, now.”

Shetty’s house was as pristine as any college dean’s would be: the houseplants throughout the house accentuated the ivory and pastel décor and the scent of chamomile filled the house. The space in itself oozed serenity but I felt my skin buzzing as I traipsed through the house with my friends.

Just like in my vision, Cate was standing in the living room, her back facing us. Across the room, Shetty cowered against the wall and kept trying to crawl to no avail.

“Cate, what’s going on?” Jordan asked.

When she turned to us, everyone else gasped except me. Cate’s pupils were dilated, and her eyes were redder than I’d ever seen them. Her arms rested at her sides and the butcher knife glinted in one of her ungloved hands. Cate’s loose posture would have been more concerning if I hadn’t seen what I saw.

“You were fast,” Cate commented.

“We were on our way when you called me,” Marie shared.

“I caught a glimpse of what was going on and thought we should all talk,” I added.

Cate smiled and walked over to me. “Your powers are back, that’s amazing.” She went to grab both of my hands, but I flinched.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Y/N, please, help me,” Shetty pleaded.

Cate whirled towards her. “Shut up! Only speak when I tell you.”

Shetty immediately closed her mouth but nothing Cate said wiped the terrified expression off the dean’s face.

“Cate, I think you pushed too much. Why don’t we sit down and you tell us what’s going on?” Marie offered.

“Also, where’s Andre?” Jordan asked.

“He had to go into the city and I feel perfectly fine. I realized that it wasn’t my powers that were making me sick, it was the prescription Shetty gave me,” Cate stated.

“What?” Emma asked.

If the prescription Cate took for her headaches somehow dulled her powers, then that meant…

“She gave you suppressants,” I concluded.

Cate nodded. “Exactly.” She turned away and started walking towards Shetty. “When Indira came home, I got her to admit to everything she’s been doing. Plus, the clips I saw from the town hall inspired me. We’ve been letting non-supes control us for far too long. They’re just scared of us because they know we should be the ones running things.”

While Cate was partly right about some non-supes being scared of supes, that didn’t mean the answer was to subjugate all of them. The situation was worse than my vision led me to believe and I wracked my brain for the best words.

“Cate, you don’t have to do this. We gave over all the information to Neuman and she’ll get it out soon,” Marie offered.

“Yeah, all of this will be exposed and Shetty and everyone else involved will face the repercussions that they should,” Jordan added.

Cate seemed unimpressed as she glanced at the knife in her hand. “That’s too good for Indira.” She faced the woman. “You brainwashed me and made me believe I was helping Luke when I was part of the reason he died. I should have reported you as soon as I got suspicious.”

Shetty shrunk away from her as much as possible and made some sort of noise behind her closed lips.

“Cate, that’s enough,” I tried.

The blonde turned to me. “Don’t you want to know why she wanted us to stay so close? Just ask and I’ll make her say.”

“You don’t have to do that, Y/N,” Jordan said.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Emma voiced.

As I stared at the petrified dean, my curiosity didn’t matter. What did matter was that Cate was unhinged and I had to talk her down. She didn’t have her gloves on, which meant that she could peek into any of our heads at will. The best solution was to keep my head as clear as possible.

I took a deep breath and did my best to sweep away any annoying thoughts.

“I appreciate the thought but it’s okay. I don’t care about that anymore; I care about you.” I approached Cate like a zookeeper would approach a tiger. Her eyes never left mine and I forced myself to relax as I grabbed her free hand. “I’m still hurt by what you did but that doesn’t mean I hate you; none of us hate you. You’re one of my best friends and I know you have good intentions and Shetty took advantage of that.”

Cate nodded and breathed. “She did.”

“Yeah. So, why don’t we get out of here and let the police or whoever’s in charge of taking down people like her do their jobs? We can go get milkshakes at Vought-a-Burger if you want.”

Cate paused for a moment and mulled over my words. My heart rate felt like it raised with each passing second. Then, she eyed me. “Thanks for trying, Y/N but this is for your own good.”

“Cate---”

“Indira, tell Y/N what your plans were for her,” Cate cut me off.

Shetty sat up and responded, “Upon receiving your application and seeing your powers, my plan was to admit you into the school but admit you to the Woods before the end of your first semester.”

“What?” The word felt like it was punched out of me and I took a step away from Cate.

Shetty continued, “A future probability supe with a ten percent margin of error is too dangerous. There is no way of predicting any of your moves or motives and I wanted you sedated and monitored. But Brink stopped me just before sending out acceptance letters; he insisted that you were much more useful in the classroom than you were in a lab.”

My stomach churned as I kept backing away from Cate, whose gaze never left mine, and Shetty. I could feel my neck and shoulders tense and I suddenly felt lightheaded.

“Stop,” I requested.

“Keep going,” Cate instructed.

“Cate, stop!” Emma pleaded.

“She needs to hear this.”

“I disagreed with him but set up check-ins with you in an attempt to get his perspective. On first impression, I knew that you were intelligent but anxious and you had no malintent in your power use. I paired you with Cate as a peer mentor because I knew she would be able to keep a close eye on you and make sure you were taking your medicine without being suspicious,” Shetty articulated.

“Did you put me on power suppressants too?” I asked.

“Partly. In each session, I made sure to play upon your insecurities, which would heighten your anxiety. You had so much self-doubt that your attempts to strengthen your powers were limited. Also, the medication I gave you only included a minimal amount of anti-anxiety medication. It also included power suppressants that dulled your abilities but not so much that you would notice.”

For a year and a half, I aired out all my insecurities, fears, goals, and grievances with Dean Shetty. She’d always made me feel secure in her office and was quick to offer advice. She listened every time I cried about my parents and gave me ginger tea after each episode. The fact that she’d been manipulating me and drugging me this whole time made it feel like the floor fell out from under me.

When I remembered she wanted me committed underground, I had to take really deep breaths.

She never cared about me or Cate; we were the enemy. Everything we told her was just more ammo that she could use.

“You never helped me; you almost made me worse,” I hissed.

“You’re too dangerous, all you supes are! It’s just a matter of time before you kill us all!” Shetty snapped.

“So, you kill us first?” Jordan shot back.

Shetty didn’t respond but glared defiantly at Jordan.

“She’s the enemy, Y/N, they all are. We can’t let them control us anymore,” Cate insisted.

“But hurting her doesn’t make us any better,” I whispered.

Cate nodded slowly. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

She turned on her heel and walked back over to Shetty and I couldn’t take my eyes off the knife.

“Cate, wait, I get that Shetty’s deplorable, but she isn’t worth killing,” I pleaded.

That and all my other pleas fell on deaf ears as Cate walked over to Shetty. She turned to me and glanced at the others behind me, all were similarly asking her to stop.

“Slit your throat, Indira,” Cate ordered, handing the butcher knife to Shetty.

The woman easily accepted it and obeyed the commandment in one swift motion. The gurgling noises were the worst and my hands slapped across my mouth as I forced myself to take deep even breaths. Then, Marie brushed past me, gently pushing me closer to the others as she approached Cate.

Marie stretched a hand towards Shetty but Cate grabbed her arm.

“Cate, let me help her,” Marie insisted.

“I can’t do that. This is what she deserves,” Cate said slowly.

For a moment I froze. Part of me wanted to lunge forward and free Marie and the other wanted to get as far away from the bloody scene as possible. Either way, I knew that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the life slowly draining from Shetty’s.

Taglist: @gardenof-venus @badbishsblog @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @darksoul100 @simiinthemirror

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #marie moreau x reader #limoreau x reader

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kittencomicslol · 5 months

Text

Braids

(Gyutaro x Reader)

————

Through out my days I have heard plenty complaints about my hair being too ‘messy’ just bc of how it ethically is since I’m Latina, and it’s been on my mind. so I decided to write a little fic of Taro helping the reader brush through their hair and then putting it into a braid :3

- no tws! Just fluff :3

“Y’know.. I never thought you of all people would be good with hair..”

You murmured with a small chortle escaping your lips, Gyutaro only sighing in response as he delicately ran his long fingers through your locks.

“Why not?.. I raised my little sister, I know about all sorts of girl stuff like that..”

His words were playful despite the unfortunate circumstances him and his sister had been put in that caused him to learn anyways.. or maybe even if they were safe growing up he would have still learned in order to further his bond with the little girl… you’d like you think that would be true.

Despite not being able to see him from behind, you knew very well he was smiling. Gyutaro loved being able to help out and make you feel comfortable.

“Man.. I can’t even imagine having this much hair on my head.. it’s like it gets fluffier and bigger when I brush it.”

He teased, causing you to only roll your eyes at his little comment. You didn’t mind having him dote on you, and you definitely didn’t mind someone actually enjoying your hair.. you had gotten far to used to people acting as if it was in disarray due to the more curly ethnic texture you were born with. It wasn’t your fault it was frizzy when brushed and constantly curled. It was annoying how often people said it looked ‘messy’ or ‘unkempt’ after you finished brushing or cleaning it.. but Gyutaro didn’t seem to mind. He was gentle and sweet, as he always was with you.

“You should try sleeping with braids in.. I learned from Ume that it helped keep away so many knots and tangle’s..”

He suggested sweetly, wanting to do anything no matter how small to make your life just a little simpler.

“Yea, you’re right.. I guess I just get a little lazy. I never really learned how to make braids.”

Your admission caused your lover to snicker a bit. It was funny, considering how much you enjoyed braids and how helpful they could be you were clueless to making them. Gyutaro snorted slightly, still gently combing through your curls.

“Maybe I can teach you..”

His suggestion melted your heart. How did you get so lucky to have a man like him?.. what a sweetheart. Sure, not many people would refer to him as such but you would.

“Only if you let me braid your hair after you reach me how..”

Your teasing only caused him to scoff slightly, a big grin on his face. You just always needed to find some way to offer some sort of pampering to him, didn’t you? Not like he minded.. he loved that about you. Your gentle and loving demeanor only made him fall further in love with you every time you displayed the want to give him attention he felt he didn’t deserve.

“Damn.. and here I thought since Ume is older I’d be free from getting my hair styled.”

He joked slightly despite the fact he really didn’t mind at all, in fact he was fond of the idea. As much as he refused to admit it, he missed when Ume did such domestic tender things like that with him so often. Sure he was glad she was older and more independent with her own friends.. and of course she still spent quality time with him, she loved him to bits. But she was just more reserved nowadays when it came to sappy stuff like that unless she was trying to make him look nice for an event. That girl always went all out to doll him up even if he would insist against it.

You winced slightly, one of the bristles on the brush getting caught in a thicker tangle that caused your hair to be tugged. Gyutaro instantly felt guilty, letting out a quick apology for hurting you. Not like you minded such a common mistake, it was always bound to happen when brushing through hair.. but it was still endearing to see how much he cared.

“Your hair is so pretty.. just like the rest of you..”

Gyutaro mumbled as he delicately worked through the rest of the knots in your hair delicately, making sure to be gentle with each time he brushed through one with precision.

“You’re such a sweet talker..”

You couldn’t help but tease Gyutaro for how gentle and sweet he always was with you. You were sure he learned a lot of his more attentive and compassionate habits from Ume, and it was so sweet to see how caring he could be. Gyutaro let out a playful scoff at your words, not being able to stop himself from smirking.

“Just treating you how you deserve to be treated, princess.”

His voice sweetly cooed, placing the brush down beside him so he would be capable of carefully wrapping his long bony arms around you and pull you into his lap.

“Hey!”

A giggle escaped your lips, tilting your head back to gaze upon the smug grin plastered across his face. Your reactions to anything he did were always so amusing to him and he adored seeing all of the cute engaging expressions you always made.

“What? You always like it when I do this..”

He teased, giving you a gentle squeeze as he held you close. And his playful banter was correct, you were rather fond of his attention.

Since he had just brushed your hair it was all poofy and frizzy, getting in his face slightly and being puffed out onto his arms. Of course he wasn’t brothers by such a ordinary thing one bit, he loved being close to you regardless of how frizzed your hair was. Even if your lover didn’t mind such a small thing, you still found it slightly obnoxious how your frizzy brushed hair always stuck to everything.

An annoyed huff escaped your lips as you made an effort to use your hands to flatten it back down onto your head.

Despite your attempts, every time you moved your hands away it just poofed back out to where it was before causing you to groan, and for Gyutaro to chuckle.

“Don’t worry so much about it, sweet thing.. I don’t mind it.”

Your boyfriend reassured you with gentle words, moving one hand away from your waist and up to your head in order to gently run his fingers through your curls.

“It looks pretty like this.. or well, all the time.. so you have nothing to worry about..”

Gyutaro mumbled softly, lazily resting his chin atop your head with a goofy smile on his face. After becoming more comfortable with touch, he was absolutely infatuated with being close to you.

In the past the man worried that if you hugged him or got close you would realize how skinny he was and belittle him like others would. But in the end all you ever did was make sure he had eaten well.. you really were a blessing from the gods.

“Thank you, Taro..”

Always so appreciative of his sweet gestures and kind words, you couldn’t help but thank him.. why wouldn’t you? He had done nothing but shown you love and affection, he deserves to be appreciated.

“Any time..”

Even though others might find the raspy nature of his voice to be an annoyance, you found it endearing and charming. It was just one of those little things that made him unique . His voice was recognizable, and even if he would complain about how he disliked it, you couldn’t help but adore how your lover sounded.. maybe it was love blinding you to his flaws or imperfections, but in all honesty you didn’t care.

“So… about those braids..”

A chortle escaped his lips at you subtly prompting him to help you learn how to style your own hair. The little smile that tugged on your lips was enough to melt his heart and make his day feel brighter.

“Of course, of course.. but you’re gonna have to get off of me..”

Not that he wanted you to get off of his lap, because if anything he wished you could just stay there all night. Gyutaro loved feeling you close, the feeling was truly incomparable to any other simple gestures that every day life gave to him. You felt the exact same way even if he didn’t even tell you he was disappointed by the fact. Though, unlike Gyutaro you had no hesitation to express your slight disappointment.

A fake pout left your mouth, a playful over exaggeration to your disappointment of the fact you had to be just a bit further from him in order for him to work his magic. Gyutaro chuckled and let a content sigh slip out from his dry chapped lips as you pouted, watching you move off of him and sit down on the floor in-front of him.

Scooting a bit closer, Gyutaro gently reached out his hands and used the advantage of his long fingers to easily separate your hair into three sections for the braid. The simple action of intertwining the little parts of your hair didn’t seem too hard.. just a bit aggravating at how precise one would have to be.

“I’m surprised you don’t know how to braid your own hair, hah.. I’d assume that you would know..”

Gyutaro mumbled in a teasing manner, delicately moving your hair over and under itself to wrap it into the start of a braid. It wasn’t easy to exactly see what he was doing, but you attempted to try and retain his actions by the little tugs you felt on your head that signified his movement’s.

“Y’know, it doesn’t really seem that hard in all honesty.. maybe I just haven’t learned how too because it’s a hassle and I’m impatient”

Chuckles could be heard behind you as Gyutaro struggled to stifle his snickers of amusement from your statement.

“Huh, so you just need me to do everything for you, eh?..”

His teasing only caused you to giggle, and despite you wanting to mess with him a bit more or playfully jab his arm you kept still. A gut feeling told you that if you began roughhousing while he had a hold of your hair it would end up in yourself getting hurt, and then Gyutaro inevitably feeling guilty because of it.

“Hey! I said I was willing to learn. Besides, I’m not making you slave around, you’re choosing to do my hair.”

Your teasing was only met with a quick witted response that displayed Gyutaro’s amusement

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, honey’”

He teased while still delicately braiding through your hair, making sure to be gentle with your locks.

“Thank you, honey. Though, this is less of a braiding lesson and more of you playing around with my hair.”

He sighed, knowing you had a good point. If he was actually planning on teaching you he should have gone to the bathroom to use the mirror.. though him postponing the actual teaching was just another excuse to spend more time with you and shower you in his affection.

“Is that a problem?.. would you rather me take it out and start again so you can see?”

Even if his tone was mocking, he was genuinely asking the question. If you wanted him to start over and show you, he a hundred percent would do so in a heartbeat just to make you happy. But luckily for him and all the work he put in so far, you just chuckled and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just teasing.. I’d never complain about you doing something so sweet like this..”

There was a slight relief that washed over Gyutaro when you clarified this was fine and he could keep at what he had already started. You could have sworn you even heard him let out a relieved sigh.. it was cute how much dedication he put into you. The mere effort this man put in when just making sure you were comfortable was more than enough to make you fall head over heels in love with him over and over.

Silence filled the room as your lover attempted his best to perfectly braid your hair, or at least in a way he thought was flawless enough to properly display your beautiful. Everything about you was radiant to him, and he hoped he could make you feel as gorgeous as he viewed you.

“Hey (Y/N)?..”

His voice rang out through the quiet atmosphere of your room, instantly catching your attention.

“Mhm?”

You hummed sweetly in response almost instantly, your full attention placed on your lover and his next words.

“Can you pass me your hairband..? I need it to finish up your braid..”

His voice was quiet, almost sheepish as he asked you such a favor. Your heart melted at how flustered Gyutaro got over something as simple as doing your hair. He seemed almost embarrassed; as if he was worried you wouldn’t like the finished product.. but he didn’t have a thing to worry about. Even if it didn’t turn out perfect or it was messy, you could care less. The effort he put into making you happy and doing you such a kind courtesy was more than enough for you.

As you handed back the little hairband Gyutaro couldn’t help but smile.. it had a little bow sewn into it. He thought it fit you perfectly, something so simple yet so cute. He delicately tied your hair at the bottom, completing the braid with a proud smile on his face.

“Thank you hunny..”

The mumbles of praise and thanks you gave him nearly sent a shiver down his spine. How could words so simple sound and feel so comforting? He would never know the answer to such questions but yet, he reveled in it.”

“Do you like it..?”

Were the words he mumbled as he gently moved the braid over to rest on your shoulder and chest so you could see it properly. He felt silly for being nervous over something as ordinary as a braid but the man couldn’t help himself.. even if you constantly reassured him that he was enough for you he never truly felt as if he could be a good partner for someone as perfect as you. The flaws that you had went right over Gyutaros head, blinded to him either by love or his own struggles. He just wanted to be a good boyfriend for you..

Even when braided up your hair was still a bit frizzy, and it always looked bigger after getting brushed out. Gyutaro had done it so neatly.. It really put into perspective how high he held you in his eyes if he put so much effort something as common as doing your hair.

“I love it.. it looks perfect.”

A sigh of relief escaped his lips at the clarification you liked the favor he had done for you. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back into his lap.

“M’ glad you like it..”

He sounded proud he made you happy, what an endearing thing to notice..

“Love you..”

His chin rested atop your head once more as he mumbled those words he spoke so often to you; yet he meant it with sincerity every time.

“I love you too, Taro..”

————

Master list/request rules

I promise I’m working on some requests I just got that dawg(nerodivergent hyperfocus) in me

#demon slayer #gyutaro #demonslayer #gyutaro demon slayer #kimestu no yaiba #kny #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #demon slayer x reader #I love him soo #modern gyutaro #kny highschool #kny modern #demon slayer modern au #kimetsu academy #fluff #self indulgent fluff #gyutaro fluff

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figs-and-cigs · 12 days

Text

Been having a lot of thoughts lately. My last post was about watching some of my friends going through break ups, and my views on why Hierarchy is important to me.

Another thing that's coming to mind is my thoughts on the Relationship Cycle (I made a post about that a long while back) and thinking about how it relates to my recent break up - and wondering how it might relate to the unfortunate situation my friends are going through.

I just read a post about a married couple who jumped into a triad (🙄 a terrible poly tale as old as time). They'd been with the new girlfriend for 4 months. The couple planned a dinner date with a family friend, whom the new girlfriend doesn't like. The new girlfriend demanded the couple cancel and spend time with her instead. When the couple didn't cancel their dinner plans, the new girlfriend became angry and withdrew and seemingly expected they make amends for this perceived slight.

One of the comments said something along the lines of, "4 months is too early to have a full blown relationship with someone. I would still be in the vetting and dating phases. It's really important to get to know someone before integrating them into my life to prevent problems like this from happening. It's wild for someone I just met to think they have any say in who my friends are and who I make dinner plans with."

One of the first things my ex had asked of me when we started seeing each other was to call her everyday. While I stated that I'm more of a texter and not a fan of phone calls, she insisted it was important to her. I really liked her and was feeling so much NRE (new relationship energy) I agreed I'd try to call her everyday. The only issue I saw with this, at the time, was when I missed a day. I had a high chronic pain day, and then having a kiddo to take care after school, I just didn't think about it on spoonless days. Her immediate response when I called the following day was, "I'm disappointed you didn't call yesterday." I explained my lack of spoons and forgetfulness on pain days, and how I'm not a phone person. "Aren't I allowed to be disappointed?" Uhm... well yes...

She and I had two dates a week, Weekday coffee, and Saturday nights - we also saw each other at two weekly meet ups every week. So needless to say we began seeing each other a lot. I had said from the beginning Saturday nights were temporary. When my Hubby's schedule changed, he and I would have Saturday nights as that's the best night for a babysitter. She's still likely see me at events on those nights, I could arrange occasional overnights on Fridays. She brushed off the conversation repeatedly, and when the schedule did change it all came to head and she responded very oddly. I don't need to dive into that again but the relationship ended.

So a few days back in talking to my poly friend who is going through a divorce. One of the reoccurring themes in her drama is how her husband prioritized his two newish girlfriends over her (and child). While she insists it's because they're ethical and non-hierarchial it often felt like the one girlfriend had a lot of control and decision making for the husband's life.

In my own thought organizing rant to my husband I shared that it baffles me that people look down on hierarchy so much. But even in a non-hierarchial situation, the thought of someone new coming into someone's life and imposing huge changes on an established relationship, their schedule (especially with children concerned), and their day to day life is alarming.

It then dawned on me how manipulated I felt after some time processing my break up. I had agreed to do something I wasn't entirely comfortable and fully capable of. Calling someone on the phone every day. My husband very thoughtfully said something along the lines of, "she really set you up to put forth a lot of effort in the beginning and to integrate yourself into her life. Not just with the daily phone call, but the insistence that you plan for multiple dates every week. Especially without the consideration of your unpredictable chronic health issues, and your family."

I had to take a lot of deep breaths to ponder that. Only a couple years ago I had put the breaks on a relationship because he was moving too fast. Within three weeks it felt like he was acting like we were married and wanted information on every bit of my day to day life, my health issues, my daily struggles. There wasn't any fun to be had there with a new relationship - and more so, I realized I didn't KNOW this guy and he assumed he KNEW me. It was three weeks, we didn't know each other.

And in the 4-5 months of dating that girl, I don't think we knew each other either. Yet she has become so integrated. She met my family, she knew most of my friends. She came to a speaker event I did. She was part of my day to day. Yet at the end it was clear she couldn't even attune to my way of communicating. While I felt I had made a ton of effort, attempts to fit molds of her requests, and flexed my boundaries... I don't think either of us really knew who we were or if we aligned.

I'm not angry at her. I'm more frustrated with myself for not seeing this until months after the relationship ended.

And I see it all the time in relationships! Poly and Monogamous alike. People jump into each other's lives so wholly and completely without taking the very important time to get to know each other and build a foundation. With my husband I had waited 6 months before allowing him to meet my kid. We waited 2 years to move in together. We took time before integrating our finances, and eventually marriage.

Circling back around to the topic of Hierarchy. Again, we are not hierarchical in the sense that we have rules for other relationships - those relationships can progress emotionally in any way they happen to. Even during my chaotic months long stent with "HER" my husband said nothing against it. When we talk about being each other's Primaries, it's in regard to the fact that our lives are so fully integrated with each other. We're raising a kid, we share a home and bills, our schedules need to work FOR the relationship and kiddo and laundry, and car repairs, and medical issues and bills.

While there's plenty of room to love and enjoy other people, the agreement is that we can't allow those relationships to negatively impact our overall family needs. After all, we have years long foundation. That's not a guarantee things will never change, things are unpredictable and things can happen - but there's at least some definitive clarity in how things work.

I read and posted an article recently. One of the interesting points the author made was that they felt secure when dating someone in a hierarchical dynamic. They knew what to expect and how their relationship was defined, how integrated they could be in their lives. While dating someone who isn't hierarchical or even relationship anarchist - there's less clarity in those roles. Certainly some food for thought.

I know from my own experience I can often look at the relationship cycle and see where things went wrong. Most often a huge step is missed. The "vetting" portion of things. Initiating and Experimenting. Instead of taking the time to build a foundation it's easy to jump into intensity and integration. It's becomes assumed we're bonded and the moment one person tries to differentiate the entire things implodes.

This isn't meant to devalue new relationships or people at all. Just a recognition of the differences between them and established relationships. The importance of taking time to establish a relationship before it has input on your day to day life and more major things like finances, schedules, and other relationships.

With poorly formed triads, we see this so often. The couple claims there is no "couples privilege", that the new partner (unicorn) is on completely equal footing. Yet clearly everyone is in denial. A couple with years of communicating, living together, intertwined finances, maybe children, is ultimately going to have more establishment in it's function than a third thrown on board. The newbie rocks the boat, understandably so if they're told they have equal power in all aspects, and the couple becomes resentful or defensive when there hasn't been any establishment of how to proceed with such things.

The benefits of stating that I'm hierarchical and have a primary means there should be less confusion about how my relationships are defined. (Less, not eradicated). A new partner should know that they don't make decisions regarding child care, or financing a new car, or paying the bills. They also know that I won't agree to plans that could interfere with those things - "I can't afford a 10 day road trip and it would negatively impact my kid." It helps avoid unreasonable expectations. "I want to plan a date for Wednesday." "Hubby and I have to attend a parent teacher's conference. I clarified with him that he can stay home with kiddo another night this week." "I think we should buy a pet together!" "That's not a responsibility I can take on, but I support you getting a pet and will snuggle it when I come over." Etc. etc.

Per usual I rambled on more than I intended. I procrastinated on cleaning long enough by typing out these thoughts. I have no idea how much sense the made and will likely dive to writing more convoluted poly nonsense another time.

#polyamory #ethical non monogamy #polyamorous #polyamorous relationships #polyam #poly relationship #polyam dating #polyam life #nonmonogamy #polyamourous

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arkiwii · 11 months

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Saria and Kristen when they were younger they were a healthy couple but sometime after Rhine Lab was established and built their relationship started to show cracks. Before all that I like to believe that Kristen wagged her tail behind close doors when Saria was around, just a slow wag. What do you think of Saria and Kristen?

oh boy, Saria and Kristen huh. rubs hands with malicious intents. I have, some THOUGHTS about them, i want to study their relationship under a microscope alright

to start with "they were a healthy couple", it's something that i can question. i mostly think about how Kristen lost her parents at the age of 10, and of her conversation with Saria about the subject in the manhwa:

Saria "always protected Kristen", and she said that since she lost her parents, "not many have been willing to defend her family's reputation". which means, Saria was pretty much the only person Kristen could rely on, and if she was able to continue and go on, it was thanks to Saria. once again, she lost her parents early, she was very likely alone all this time, and for a child, it can create a huge hole in their heart, one that Kristen probably and definitively tried to fill with Saria. she followed her, Saria was like a lighthouse for Kristen; and that's why it couldn't be healthy.

because of Saria's views, her beliefs on how emotions are a bias to scientific avancement, Kristen very likely followed these, but to an extreme. to the point of going against ethics to fullfill her ambition and continue her parent's legacy.

this is not to say Saria ever agreed with this, maybe even before Ifrit, if she knew about it, she would have stopped it. but it's to say that Kristen used this belief to feed her ambition, to see it as an open door to push the limits of what is allowed.

once rhine lab was created, once it became succesful, and Kristen was at the top of it all, she had no need to "use" Saria anymore. their relationship fell apart because Saria could not "defend" her anymore, now that Kristen was in control. she doesn't need anyone to defend her now.

so now, i'm not saying that Kristen never had any consideration for Saria. people in these situations may not even realize that what they are doing is wrong, that they may hurt someone. and i do believe that Kristen cares about Saria, and in fact, she truly does;

she doesn't want Saria to be hurt, she actually did nothing that would hurt Saria. but is it the present Saria she cares about, or the past Saria? when Saria met Ifrit and Silence, she opened her heart to emotions, she who never had a family who cared about her, she saw this child being hurt, mistreated, alone, and she wanted to protect her. the present Saria may still struggle, but she discovered what it is to feel loved, which she probably never discovered with Kristen before.

but Kristen, she wants the Saria who is ready to step on boundaries, to ignore emotions, to achieve scientific avancement. she wants the Saria who protected her, who stood by her side when she was alone and hurt.

but, she knows that this Saria doesn't exist anymore and she knows that Saria would never have agreed with her, she knows Saria would have tried to stop her. she studied Saria, her way to fight, her Arts, and she literally created a barrier in her office that cancels her Arts, she created power armors who can also neutralize Saria's calcification. that means one thing, Kristen was afraid of Saria. she knew she fucked up.

of course, Kristen would ALWAYS be ready to welcome Saria with open arms, she doesn't want Saria to go away from her, she never accepted that she left Rhine Lab. maybe Kristen is idealizing a Saria who is like her.

their relationship is MMWAH chief's kiss I LOVE psychology and character development. what i say can work even if their relationship is purely platonic, but i enjoy the little twist it gives if it was romantic, which means that Saria had experienced something toxic and it made her afraid of love above all emotions, which fullfill my evil thoughts about Saria x Silence

#so so many thoughts about them alright #not normal #kiwi crying and analyzing character's psychology again #cant wait to see how fucked up lone trail will show their relationship #arknights #askiwi

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bengiyo · 2 months

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Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear Ep 11 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

This watch made possible by @isaksbestpillow.

Last time, Daichi's dad came back into the picture and dumped a heaping pile of homophobia right on top of our favorite boy. Daichi, despite all his courage and conviction, balked before his father. No one was able to say much to Daichi; not Madoka, not Makoto. Makoto wasn't sure how to interject himself in this situation, and hesitated because he wanted to move properly. At work, there was discussion about people being downsized and laid off, and how that ruined relationships once a man could no longer provide. Meanwhile, Kakeru is struggling with the ethics of makeup after he helped his friend pretend to be a kind of girl she isn't. Finally, when no one else seemed like they could talk to Daichi, Kakeru reminded us that he's Makoto's son and meddled directly. We left at Daichi's dad being horrible to Kakeru, and Makoto stormed off to confront the man once he found out.

I really like how vile this final villain is with his presentation as reasonable and principled. He uses a soft tone, but he's constantly turning things around to be cruel. He made his son suffer, and he was rude to Kakeru. I almost wonder if he provoked Kakeru just so he had the leverage to demand the Okita family stay away from Daichi. He's an excellent villain, because you have to use all the empathy and compassion the show brought out of you to resist this man's flawed logic.

Wow, Makoto gets it. I am gonna cry because I'm so proud of him for not losing his conviction.

Madoka, my guy, what are you doing? This is a big problem you should face together.

Oh, Kakeru, you were so harsh to everyone all season about how they talked to you. It's hard to talk to people isn't it?

OOF Mor is also dealing with the expectations of society at large. We're really building to a finale.

And now Mika might be losing her job!

My family is in crisis!

Truly so special that Makoto has finally reached an understanding with his family that he realized what was wrong with each of them.

No! Don't ruin the sanctity of the park!! Gays, get it together!!

"Why are there so many obstacles to overcome if you're gay?" Bitch, me too, the fuck!!

It did feel like a barrier had formed between Daichi and Makoto. I'm sad and frustrated.

Y'all are gonna kill this old man.

Okay, what bad news did Furuike get, because my man just reiterated that when you grow up your heart dies?

Oh, Furuike, you've come along as well. Responding to the info that Shimura realized what was going on with him that she should be promoted is excellent growth. I also love him reminding Makoto that he's not dead yet. Life is still worth living.

I love Makoto recognizing that he was asked to be the matchmaker. He needs to know that the rules of the society can be turned for the betterment of people even in the modern age.

KAKERU'S TELLING SHIZUKA HIS FEELINGS OVER MAKEUP

"Making noise to help you forget is also what friends are for." Y'all I'm overwhelmed.

"If I'm ever unsure of myself, I'll ask Kakeru-tan to do my makeup." STOP MAKING ME CRY.

Actually so important that this show reiterates that even straight people get rejected constantly by others for failing to be what others want them to be

Of course Moe's full pen name is Pectoralis Major Huge Melons. I love her.

I'm so happy to see Makoto and Mika talking about things over chores together. I'm so proud of Mika, too.

Save us, Carlos!!!

YES, MEDDLE!!

Wow, this is the best show I've ever seen. The Okita family showed up exactly as themselves, with their passions plain, and stood before Daichi in front of this cruel man. Makoto demolished that man entirely, and said plainly that he is cruel to his son.

Daichi said it! If I change myself like that then I won't be myself!

Don't let the door hit you on the way out!!

So thankful that this show gave us that scene between Mihoko and Daichi. Sometimes we have to accept that people important to us won't accept us, but we must remember that we have those who will.

Way to release the tension with an old man's underwear and his kids dunking on him.

THEY SAID THE NAME OF THE SHOW! FINISH YOUR DRINKS!!

Of course Makoto is a crying, sloppy mess during the wedding. I love him.

What a beautiful finish.

Final Verdict: 11, Television Can Still Be Good. Truly, I don't know how else to describe this other than as one of the most important things I've ever watched in the last 20 years of engaging with stories about queer people. Seeing the Okita family reveal their passions and blast Daichi's dad like Care Bears as Makoto tells him he's a cruel asshole jumping to the front of the line to beat him up. This show earned every single beat it hit, and it was so lovely to watch a show where every character had goals and challenges. It wasn't just about making sure two guys have sex. This was a story about friendship and community, and it had strong ideas about how we make ourselves suffer for the betterment of others and yet no one is happy. This is one of the best things I've ever seen. Please go watch it.

#Ben watches #ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka #oppan #don't care for an old man's underwear #japanese drama #jdrama

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lucky-clover-gazette · 4 months

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captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 7

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Seeing no reason whatsoever to cooperate with that order, Damen stood up.

very much a “damen is not a slave” moment. this is the opposite of what they’ve been trained to do.

‘You are really courting danger tonight,’ Laurent said. ‘Am I? I thought I was appealing to your better nature. Order whatever punishment you like, from the coward’s distance of a chain-length. You and Govart are two of a kind.’

yessss, question his integrity! i love that they both get really pissed off when they’re implied to be bad people, but only by each other. it’s like they’ve mutually identified each other as their own personal moral arbiters, and couldn’t stop caring even if they tried.

Laurent transferred his gaze back to Damen and said, pleasantly, ‘Does that bother you? I recall you being free with your own hands, not so very long ago.’ ‘That was—’ Damen flushed. He wanted to deny that he’d done anything of the kind, but he remembered rather unequivocally that he had.

called out for enjoying the bath scene a little too much

‘I promise you, Govart did a great deal more than simply enjoy the view.’

vine boom so you WERE enjoying the view

‘To a slave,’ Laurent said. ‘The Prince’s Guard doesn’t interfere with the Regency. Govart can stick his cock into anything of my uncle’s he likes.’ Damen made a sound of disgust. ‘With your blessing?’ ‘Why not?’ said Laurent. His voice was honeyed. ‘He certainly had my blessing to fuck you, but it turned out he’d rather take a blow to the head. Disappointing, but I can’t fault his taste. Then again, maybe if you’d spread in the ring, Govart wouldn’t have been so hot to get inside your friend.’

context of what laurent is implying here (not what’s actually true): this is not laurent’s command or responsibility, but the regent’s. and it’s somehow damen’s fault that this happened to erasmus, because he didn’t let govart take him instead, which is what laurent had intended to happen. massive laurent ethical L on both counts. do better.

Damen said, ‘This isn’t a scheme of your uncle’s. I don’t take orders from men like Govart. You’re wrong.’ ‘Wrong,’ said Laurent. ‘How lucky I am to have servants to point out my shortcomings. What makes you think I will tolerate any of this, even if I believed what you are saying to be true?’ ‘Because you can end this conversation any time you like.’

damen won this interaction! called out laurent for clearly giving a shit, because he’s still talking!

also, craft note: great back-and-forth throughout this entire exchange

With so much at stake, Damen was sick of certain kinds of exchanges; the kind Laurent favoured, and enjoyed, and was good at. Wordplay for its own sake; words that built traps. None of it meant anything.

i have several hundred annotations that suggest otherwise

‘When someone doesn’t like you very much, it isn’t a good idea to let them know that you care about something,’ said Laurent.

context: nicaise :( and horse :( and a lot of things :(

break the cycle of abuse laurent i know you can do it

‘Would it hurt worse than a lashing for me to cut down someone you care for?’ said Laurent.

context: laurent knows, from experience, that the answer is yes

‘I don’t think I need to bring in more men,’ said Laurent. ‘I think all I have to do is tell you to kneel, and you’ll do it. Without me lifting a finger to help anyone.’ ‘You’re right,’ said Damen. ‘I can end this any time I like?’ said Laurent. ‘I haven’t even begun.’

damen won the confrontation morally, and they both know it. laurent won in practice by being intentionally immoral, and instead reminding damen that he has been given power over him that he can abuse. this is exactly what the regent has done to laurent, over and over again. sad.

Laurent said, ‘There is no bargain between us. A prince does not make deals with slaves and insects. Your promises are worth less to me than dirt. Do you understand me?’ ‘Perfectly,’ said Damen.

translation: “you win.” “i know.”

Damen rethought that particular approach. He turned over the information he’d just been given. Re-examined it. Turned it over again. ‘What changed your mind?’ Damen said, carefully.

context: maybe i’m too optimistic, but i think it’s genuinely an ethical decision on laurent’s part. there’s a strategic purpose in here, too, but that’s more of a convenience. laurent knew he was wrong, and might have even connected himself to his uncle and disliked the similarity. he doesn’t act smug when he’s doing something he doesn’t want to do, but he knows he should do this. that’s why he’s pissed at damen, but not playful about it at all. so i do think this was ultimately a “laurent was called on his bullshit, and has too much integrity not to act based on that callout” thing.

‘I’m not sure that I believe anything that you’ve just told me,’ Damen said. ‘Do you have a choice?’ ‘No.’

silver lining for laurent: re-asserts his own power and moral high ground by helping damen, instead of threatening him in a way they both know is fucked up

He has experienced things many adults have not, and his mind is no longer that of a child.

laurent would know :(

‘Is there anyone at this court who isn’t my enemy?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Laurent said.

okay this is just him being mean. it’s his enrichment

‘So he’s tame,’ said Estienne, and reached out tentatively, as though to pat a wild animal. It was a question of which part of the animal he was patting. Damen knocked his hand away. Estienne gave a yelp and snatched his hand back, nursing it against his chest. ‘Not that tame,’ said Laurent. He didn’t reprimand Damen. He didn’t seem particularly displeased with barbaric behaviour, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license.

they’re insane

As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen’s presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation. The third time this happened Damen said, ‘Shall I make a face at the ones you don’t like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?’ ‘Shut up,’ said Laurent, calmly.

emotional collapse animal to keep people from annoying laurent. love the banter here. damen knows that’s exactly what’s happening, and laurent is annoyed that he knows, because it makes him seem like an antisocial loser, which he is

Torveld was a handsome man in his forties

ew. leave laurent alone. he’s like half your age and he has specific trauma that makes this particularly uncomfortable

He reconciled himself to an evening of listening to Laurent lying a great deal, about everything. Laurent was a nest of scorpions in the body of one person. To hear that Akielos was weakened was as painful as Laurent must have meant it to be.

context: not entirely sold on the idea that laurent is having this conversation about akielos specifically to upset damen, but i get why damen feels that way

‘I wish we had more time together,’ said Torveld, showing no inclination to rise.

GET A JOB. STAY AWAY FROM HER

‘Nephew. You were not invited to these discussions.’ ‘And yet, here I am. It’s very irritating, isn’t it?’ said Laurent. ‘You’ve never applied yourself seriously to anything in your life.’ ‘Haven’t I? Well, then it’s nothing serious, uncle. You have no cause to worry.’

laurent applies himself seriously to most, if not all, of the things he chooses to do. regent just dislikes that laurent has a choice and uses it.

#capri #captive prince #sam reads capri #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #getting the rest of these out tonight!#they've been done for days #i'll be glad if anyone enjoys them but i also want to move on to the next book!

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inukag-archive · 7 months

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Hello! I don't know if this would be appropriate, but is there any good AU where Inu is a playboy, a womanizer at first? I just like this kind of trop 😅 But I'm new in this fandom and don't know any yet.

Hi anon, and welcome to the fandom! Don't worry, there's no shame in liking a certain trope. The Inukag Archive is a judgement-free zone!

Playboy!Inuyasha was a pretty popular trope on FF.net at one time, so we were able to find a decent amount of stories for you. Hope you find something you enjoy below!

Happiness by @witchygirl99 (M)

Inuyasha is an unobservant rich bastard. He has an OCD assistant and a perverted financial planner. Enter Kagome, a woman who has her own rules on how to live. He wants sex. She wants happiness. Well, that's only what they'll admit...

A deal with a demon by @ajoy3fanfics (M)

In order to save her family's shrine from debt, Kagome reluctantly agrees to marry Inuyasha, the wealthy son of her grandfathers late friend. Inuyasha is far from thrilled about the match. According to his fathers will, he must marry if he wishes to gain his inheritance. Is this couple doomed from the start, or can they manage to find wedded bliss?

Aesthetic by Autumn Dragon (T)

I was cocky, gorgeous, and one of Japan's Most Wanted bachelors. At first, all I wanted was to get into her pants. Now, even I have to admit that she was different from the others. Very different. Damn, I love a challenge.

Sequel: Houdini's Affair (T)

Break Me by ShadowBluebell (M)

It was a simple trip to the store. Saving a playboy's life from a hit-and-run had been a bonus. No big deal. Until said playboy shows up at her door, intent on showing his appreciation… in his own way. Let the game of seduction begin.

A Little Dessert by @witchygirl99 (M)

Kagome is a waitress who always looks after Inuyasha's table. Inuyasha is a player with a new girl every week. He likes the restaurant and the service Kagome gives. Secretly? He doesn't really come for the dessert, unless you think of it that way.

The Bet by Mesmerizing Love (M)

He is a player. He always thought that girls were toys that are used for only one thing. Until he met a virgin who he desperately wanted to break, so he made a bet that he would, but she was so hard to break and he never realized that he actually would fall in love instead…

Cheaters by @inunanna (T)

Everyone in the office knew Kagome and Inuyasha were having a not-so-secret affair. They weren't EXACTLY wrong... (Not a cheating fic)

If It Hadn't Been For Love by Reckless Dreamer Yuna (M)

Inuyasha? He's a player. A damn good one at that. But one girl he can't break through to, is Kagome. But it's not easy, trying to bed her, while trying not to fall in love with her. What will happen if he gets his heart broken again?

Dead Famous by Torenza (M)

The most wanted prize bachelor is up for grabs... but the one who gets him is the only one who doesn’t want to keep him...

Til Death Do Us Part by Jade Catseye (M)

Kagome hates Inuyasha. Inuyasha hates Kagome. What happens when the sexy playboy and fiery schoolgirl are forced to undergo holy matrimony?

A Southern Cinderella by DeletedAccountNotChangingMind (T)

Who cares if he partied a little, why should his parents not like that he liked women, so he partied, had sex, and races fast cars, why should he be punished for doing so. And why should he have to be sent to a farm to gain 'work ethic? Honestly?

Broken Hearts by Jezzie Lynn (M)

Inuyasha is a cruel playboy. Kagome gave him a chance and they stay together. But Kagome gets raped and finds she's pregnant. Who is the father? And is someone trying to kill her and her friends?

The Life of a Devil by SnowShadowuser (T)

Kagome, an assassin, finds out that she has only two months to live thanks to a mysterious and deadly virus...willingly, she takes on her last job; to find and to kill the notorious playboy, known as the American secret agent - Inuyasha...

A Player's Heart Recast by inukag-lover1600 (T)

If you fell in love with a 'womanizer' what are you to do? Simple. Just change him. InuxKag MirxSan KouxAya

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #inukag fanfiction #playboy Inuyasha #as always feel free to add any other recs you might have

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rugtopper · 8 months

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Wedding Night Surprises

By Rugtopper

I have always been traditional or old fashioned by nature. For as long as I could remember growing up at the orphanage, all of us under Father Carmine's care and instruction were taught good principles, good ethics, and good deportment. For the few of us who were never adopted, some would rebel and veer from the path laid out by Father Carmine. I stayed the course. Once we reached our teen years, all the boys were expected to wear dress pants, shirts and ties, and shoes polished to high gloss every day. As such, we were required to also don certain undergarments. Some of the boys hated the mundane medallion or diamond patterned boxer shorts. The sleeveless undershirts, or tank tops, were somewhat popular among most. They were back in fashion again after an absence. The one thing that a lot of the young men hated were the sock garters. Father Carmine said that a proper gentleman never pulled up his socks in public. I didn't mind any of it. In fact, I really liked it. It made me feel like a grown up man instead of a teenage boy. Personally, I think he just liked seeing all of us dressed like that every morning as we got ready for school.

At one point Father Carmine thought I would follow him and take Holy Orders, but I didn't want to follow that strict path.

By law, at age 18, the state required me to leave the orphanage. For whatever reason, I was never adopted. Father Carmine helped me find a small room to rent a few blocks from the orphanage. I was allowed to continue to help out in the office at the orphanage. In truth, I was the de facto bookkeeper for the orphanage and the parish. I started night school to get a proper degree in accounting. That's when I met Julie.

Julie Hatfield was extraordinarily gorgeous, and yet painfully shy. Slowly, over the course of that first term of school I got to know her. I was shy to some extent, but I had also learned to be open enough as a kid in the likelihood I might get adopted. In short, we were both looking for someone to love. Less than a year later, we were dating on a regular basis. Despite our blatant differences in background, we found we had some things in common. She was rather old fashioned, as well. Unlike most young women, she wore skirts or dresses. I don't think I ever saw her in pants. She always had her hair beautifully styled. On our first real dinner date, I swear she wore an elegant little black dress, a string of simple pearls, with her hair in a French twist. I was so mesmerized I couldn't even say her name.

After two months of dating, I thought we were getting serious. I had casually brought up marriage. We had already talked about so many things. There were minor disagreements over silly issues, but on many principles we were of one mind in our views of things. This was beyond an issue of politics or religion, but rather an approach to many esthetics of life that most everyone of our generation hated or thoroughly dismissed.

One night when we were dining at our favorite restaurant, she said something that startled me. As we were eating our little dinner salads, she asked me if I was losing my hair. I had never been asked that before, much less seriously given it any thought.

"I don't think so," I told her. "Why do you ask?"

"It looks like you are receding a bit in the front. Plus, you are thinning in the back."

I was more interested in why she brought it up than in if it might be true or not. Over the next week she mentioned it a few more times. Finally, I confronted her about it. That's when we had our first real 'adult' conversation. We shared our interests. Nowadays, people call them kinks. Back then, you didn't talk about those things. Still it was enlightening, and even vulgarly titillating, to say the least.

I asked her why my hair was suddenly such an issue for her. She told me that she really hated bald men, and that she didn't want me to go bald. I told her that I didn't think there was a chance of that. That's when she brought up my empty history.

"You're an orphan, Bryan Murphy. You don't know who your parents are. You don't know if your maternal grandfather was totally bald or anything. I couldn't live with a bald man. I just couldn't. I know it sounds silly."

"But, Julie, I'm not losing my hair at all. Yes, it's receding a bit like you said, but it's nothing drastic."

"I just couldn't stand it. That's all."

"What would you want me to do, get a hairpiece?"

She got this odd look on her face.

"Would you? For me?" She asked, almost childlike.

"What?" I retorted.

"Would you get a hairpiece? I mean, you are slowly losing your hair as it is. If you got a hairpiece now, no one would know."

"Julie, if I get a hairpiece, I would be bald underneath it. Wouldn't that bother you? I mean, eventually we are going to get married. We have decided to wait until our wedding night to make love. Won't it upset you when I take it off that first time?"

"That's different, Bryan."

"How is that different, Julie? You just said how much you hate bald men. Would you hate me?"

"No, Bryan. I love you. It's just that . . ."

"Well. It's just what? You say you love me but hate bald men, yet you want me to be bald. I don't understand."

"Neither do I, to tell the truth."

"Okay. Now, I'm confused."

"I really can't explain it. With all the little quirks we have shared, I left one out. I have this really odd bent for men who wear rugs."

I laughed. She got upset.

"I'm sorry. Don't be mad, Julie. I'm sorry. So, let me get this straight, a man in a cheap toupee makes you hot?"

"Yes."

"I guess it makes him hot, too." I sarcastically said. She just gave me this certain smirk I had grown accustomed to over the months I had known her.

"I'm sorry, Julie."

"Just forget it. You said you wanted to know."

"Would you really want me to do that? Would it make you happy?"

"Yes. Would you really do it for me? I mean, would you put yourself through that?"

"I have never known of someone doing something like that for someone else. I mean, yes, people have done other things for someone they love, but this is really unusual. I don't even know a barber who could help me."

Suddenly she had this look on her face.

"You know someone, don't you?" I asked her. "You have been planning this haven't you?"

"No, not really, but I have a third cousin who owns a little old fashioned barbershop about forty miles from here. I think if I talked to him, he would do it without any questions."

"Do you know how much those things cost, especially over the years? I will be 20 in a month. My job doesn't pay much and then there is school tuition, I couldn't afford the added expense."

"Let me talk to Ronnie. I'll tell him your situation and what I want. He's a nice guy and a highly respected barber. Do you know that he is the mayor's barber?"

Mayor Llewellyn was the nicest man you would ever want to meet with a blatantly obvious pewter toupee perched on his head.

I swallowed and said, "if that's what you want, sure."

Little did I know just how traditional and old-fashioned I was about to be.

Ronnie Blevins was a bit of a throwback. When I got to his shop, he was sitting in this huge red leather and chrome barber's chair reading a magazine. He was wearing a white barber's smock over his husky frame. He looked like so many of those guys who had once played football, but had just let things go since graduation. The top of his head was this flat cocoa brown, wavy hairpiece in an early 1980s brushed back style. The sides and back were not the same shade of brown and quite sparser with some gray in it.

"You must be Bryan. I'm Ronnie. Julie has told me all about you," Ronnie said as he got up and shook my hair. "Have a seat," he gestured.

"So, you've spoken with Julie? You know why I'm here."

"It's okay, Bryan. Julie and I are third cousins, but she and I are very close. She is like one of my sisters. I have three."

"Must be nice. I guess Julie told you that I'm an orphan."

"Yes, but I know it hasn't stopped you in any way. Julie has told me how you graduated in the top ten percent of your class in high school, and how you're working your way through college at night. Now, let's get down to business. I can tell you have some receding in front and thinning in the crown." Ronnie said this as he took a comb out of his smock and started combing through my hair.

"I really don't think I need a hairpiece, Ronnie. I think Julie is overreacting."

"I didn't think I did either, Bryan. Still after every Friday night game, I'd find more and more hair in the drain. Finally I couldn't handle it. When I messed up my knee during the last game of the season I knew college ball, and any other kind of sports, was no longer a part of my future. I went to barber school, and came to work for my dad here. A year later he had a stroke and died."

"I'm sorry to hear that. At least you had that time with him."

"Julie has given me some instructions. Do you trust her? Do you trust me?"

"Well . . . I love her. That's what's important. If this is what she wants, I can't say no. In all the time we have known each other, she has never asked anything of me."

"Okay then. Let's get started."

Ronnie grabbed some clippers and slowly began to remove the hair on the top of my head. As he did it, I could suddenly see just how much of my scalp was starting to show. Maybe I was losing my hair and was just in denial.

Ronnie made several passes from the front of my head to the top of my occipital bone. Pass after pass, I looked more and more like a forty year old man, as opposed to a twenty year old man.

When Ronnie put down those clippers, the hair on the top of my head was so short and sparse that I couldn't even see them in the mirror across from me.

Ronnie picked up a small orange tube and put some pale opalescence cream on my scalp. It was very thick and quite cold. He began to spread it over the newly shaved area. As he massaged the cream into my scalp, it began to get warmer and warmer. When he finished, he washed his hands and rolled a small heat lamp over to the barber's chair. The lamp was even warmer than the cream, but it never seemed to burn. The longer that heat lamp was on, the cream changed from the opalescence shade to totally clear. Once the cream was completely clear, it suddenly began to shine and almost glow. When that happened, Ronnie turned off the lamp. He had me move to a sink in the corner where he rinsed off the loose hair and the cream.

When I sat back down in the huge barber's chair, Ronnie removed the hand towel that was my head. I made a slight gasp. I was so incredibly bald. I had this small ring of hair around the sides and back of my head.

Ronnie left me staring at my pasty scalp. He came back a moment later with an old leather wig stand with a hairpiece pinned to it. It was a much lighter shade of brown than the hair that had been on the top of my head.

"Let's get to work helping you to look like the young man that Julie wants to marry," Ronnie said as he took the hairpiece off the stand. He put tape around the perimeter. I watched how he only used four pieces of tape. Each was specifically designed for certain places. Two pieces were shaped like parentheses for the front and back. The other two were straighter for the sides. He put the toupee on my bald head. I felt the tape adhere at all four places. More importantly, I saw the sudden transformation of my overall appearance. Ronnie began combining the piece on the back and sides. With scissors, he trimmed the longer tendrils. There was a left-sided part already established. It was very stark. He gently combed the front of the toupee. It looked like it was swept up off my forehead. It was the same style the mayor had, as well as several other prominent men around town. I was torn between embarrassment and delight. I was too busy marveling at what was on my head to fully grasp the artificiality of it. Finally, I looked at Ronnie via the mirror and asked him, "how much does this cost?"

"Usually I charge $50, but this first one is like a wedding gift. I know that money is tight for you. A lot of men are like you. They don't want to be bald, but they can't afford the very expensive human hairpieces that are on the market."

"But I'm not really bald. You just made me temporarily bald for the toupee to please Julie. Didn't you?"

"Well, yes, Bryan. But, that cream I used is a high acting formula depilatory. With the heat lamp, it kills the hair follicle for up to six weeks. After I used it for six months, my hair never grew back. Neither will yours."

"You mean I'm . . . bald?"

"Technically, yes, but you have a great toupee, Bryan. This is what Julie picked out for you."

I drove back home, a completely new man. A week later, Julie and I had planned to go to a fundraiser for the mayor's upcoming campaign. I wore a retro 1950s tuxedo that was midnight blue. Julie wore an emerald cocktail dress that matched her eyes perfectly.

The entire evening, I was so self-conscious. I thought everyone in the room was staring at my new hair. In truth they were. It didn't help that I seemed to be acutely aware of the microscopic space between my bald scalp and the quite noticeable toupee taped to it. Strangely, it wasn't uncomfortable or itchy. I just felt like I was the center of attention. I had realized before I left Ronnie's shop that the hairpiece was rather thick and full. When Julie and I were introduced to the mayor and his wife, his eyes immediately drifted upwards to my upswept, hard hairline, and he smiled. Later on after he had finished greeting his guests, he made his way to our table. He asked if he could have a private word with me in the lobby of the hotel where the fundraiser was being held.

"Young man, I hear you managed to survive 18 years under Father Carmine's tutelage at the orphanage."

I was rather taken back. I hadn't expected that opening gambit.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor. I guess no one was willing to take me on, sir."

"How old are you, son?"

"I'll be 20 in a few weeks, sir."

He moved a little closer to me and dropped his voice. "It looks like Ronnie did an excellent job on your hair, son. His Dad helped me out with my problem when I was about your age. Trust me, I know how tough it can be."

"Thank you, sir," was about all I could say.

"Be proud of it. There's nothing to be self-conscious about or embarrassed by. It is far better than the hidden reality. Am I right?"

A soft "yes sir" was all I could muster.

"Father Carmine tells me you have been his bookkeeper since you were a teen. I could use someone like you in my office. A raise in salary certainly would help you and Julie get started in life. Come by my office on Thursday. We'll talk. I'll go talk to Father Carmine a little later and see if I can steal you away from him."

With that, the mayor walked back into the banquet hall as Julie was walking out.

"What did he want, Bryan?" Julie asked as she got closer to me.

"He wanted to offer me a job!"

She looked up at my rug and asked, "did he mention your hairpiece?"

"He just told me that he thought your cousin Ronnie did an excellent job."

"See? I knew it might help you in more ways than you thought. With this new job, maybe we can get married."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course. I don't want a big wedding. You don't have any family. I only have Ronnie and his three sisters. We could get married tomorrow afternoon at the courthouse if we wanted."

"Wait? I thought you wanted a very traditional church wedding. Don't most women want that?"

"Well, I'd love it, but I can't afford it; we can't afford it. I'd love for Ronnie to walk me down the aisle, and his youngest sister be my flower girl, and his other sisters be my bridesmaids. I'd want to see you standing there at the altar beside Father Carmine looking so handsome and mature with your . . . Never mind."

I whispered, "you mean my new hair?"

"Yes, Bryan."

"Do you really like it? I feel a bit awkward. Still after Ronnie's and the mayor's little pep talks, I do feel a lot more comfortable. Wait here just a moment. I have an idea."

I left Julie standing perplexed in the hotel lobby. I went back to the banquet hall and found Father Carmine. He just finished talking with the mayor.

"So, Bryan, the mayor says he wants to hire you away from me to work with his campaign. Is that what you would like?"

"Possibly, Father, but that's not what I wanted to ask you. Julie and I want to get married properly in church with you officiating. The trouble is, we can't afford it."

"Bryan, why don't you let me give you the wedding as a gift? I've known you since you were nine days old. You are the closest thing I'll ever have to a son. Let it be my wedding present."

I guess the look of surprise on my face was a bit over the top. I felt the toupee tape slightly lift in the front. If Father Carmine noticed, he didn't say anything. Of course, he hadn't said anything to me all night about my hair. Maybe he hadn't noticed. I hope he has not. Alas, his eyes drifted upwards and then back down. He only smiled and walked away.

I went back to Julie and told her the good news. She cried and kissed me, and then she felt the back of my head at the occipital bone where my toupee was taped. She only lightly touched it, but didn't pull it.

"You look so handsome and mature," she whispered. "Thank you for doing that for me."

No wedding had ever come together so quickly in our community. Everyone at the parish helped out. Two of the nuns worked all week transforming Ronnie's mother's wedding gown to fit Julie.

We were married the next Saturday at St. Michael's.

The honeymoon was two nights at an Inn three blocks from Ronnie's barbershop. That was a gift from Ronnie's older sisters.

After I carried Julie across the threshold, I walked back to the hall and got our two suitcases. I closed the door and we looked at each other.

"So, I guess this is the magic moment," I said.

We had that little talk a few months ago," she began. "Are we ready?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

We both began to undress.

We had changed from our wedding clothes into more traditional attire. She was wearing a pale blue dress with a square neck. I was wearing a dark navy suit.

I took off my coat for her. My crisp white shirt was tightly tucked into my trousers. You could clearly see my undershirt through the dress shirt. I loosened and removed my tie.

She reached up and unclasped the top of her dress. She turned around and indicated for me to unzip it. She let it fall to the floor. She was wearing an ivory slip. She reached up and slid the straps off her shoulders letting the slip fall on top of her dress. She stepped out of it and turned to face me. She was standing there in her bra. Clearly, it contained more than just what nature had given her. She had told me that. It wasn't vulgar and pointy like Jayne Mansfield, but it did evoke a certain Jane Russell flair. Her open bottom girdle with garters and stockings sent shivers up my spine and a tingle in my trousers. She stepped forward and unbuttoned my shirt revealing the straps and scoop of my classic ribbed undershirt. She then undid my belt. I knew what was about to happen. She unbuttoned my pants and unzipped my fly. My trousers fell to my ankles. I was wearing the white boxer shorts with pink roses and red hearts that she had sent to me that morning. I stood there with my matching navy socks and double-grip pink garters. I started to reach up to remove my toupee. She stopped me. She sat on the edge of the bed and unfastened her garters. She slowly removed her stockings. Then she got up, turned around for me to unhook her bra. Her breasts were almost non-existent, but I never said anything. I was too aroused to speak. I was also nervous. I must have been perspiring. I leaned in to kiss her. I could tell my toupee tape was slightly loose. I leaned up and put my hands up to remove it as I had done on my own every night since I had gotten it. She sensuously slid off her girdle. She helped me as I took off my toupee. She gasped as we connected and completed our union. We felt old and young, ugly and beautiful, exposed and yet complete.

The End.

#cheap toupee #hair replacement for men #voluntary bald fringe #toupee for men #male transformation #wifebeater #a-shirt #tank top #boxer shorts #traditional #sock garters #becoming traditional #men's sock garters #men's tank tops #undershirtline

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trivalentlinks · 1 year

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🔥 - i'd like to order an unpopular opinion on leverage, please!

Sorry for the very, very late answer, but to make up for it, have two unpopular opinions:

The first one's a bit of a cop-out. I think it's the less popular opinion, but probably because most don't care that much either way:

I head-canon that Damien Moreau is actually a banker/financier, ie, his primary source of income is actually derivatives investments and market prediction, and all the buying countries, arms deals and other such clandestine activities is just to give markets slight pushes in the direction he wants. (I've previous talked about this here (my last reblog addition))

This opinion seems "unpopular" in that the more common reading is that he's a mob boss who just calls himself a 'banker' to make himself sound cooler than he actually is. Which I think is a totally valid reading, consistent with what we are shown in canon! Like, he's all about image, and it's totally believable that the entire financier/banker persona is just that.

One reason I prefer the actually-a-banker reading is, as I described in the other post, because I like the parallel with team leverage and their "alternative revenue stream". This is also why I like to head-canon that when Eliot and Moreau were starting out (after Eliot met Toby and left the PMCs with his newfound conscience), before things got bad, they actually did good--only destabilizing horrible, abusive dictatorships, using their alternative revenue stream to help people. The parallels are just so compelling to me this way.

Another reason I prefer the actually-a-banker reading is that it's more relatable to me. I know people who work as financiers (hedge fund/high frequency trading/crypto firm founders or high-level quants etc).

None of them (that I know of) would actually do illegal things to manipulate prices, but it sometimes seems like if they were a little less risk-averse, a little less ethical, who knows? And when they tell me about the people they know, people they describe as "if you took a person's stats and dialled 'ethics' all the way down to zero"... These friends think anyone too stupid to see through a cryptocurrency white paper deserves to lose their life's savings. So when they say someone has ethics dialled to zero, well. You don't wanna know.

On the other hand, I don't know anyone who's anywhere close to being a mob boss.

Here's a more genuinely unpopular opinion, in that I think most people believe the opposite, and actually do care:

I really like Jimmy Ford. I find the character very relatable and very compelling. I feel like a lot of people in the fandom just write him off as a bad father, but I don't think that's fair.

I talked a lot about this here (skip past the "..." paragraph; above that were my old early thoughts about Moreau, before I reformulated them to be my current thoughts)

As I mentioned there, I see in Jimmy Ford every parent who didn't understand their kid, but loved them, and as Jimmy said to Nate, that's more important.

Every parent who grew up at a different time, in another country, in a harder, less forgiving world, who wants to ensure their kid can survive that old environment, without realizing that that isn't the kid's world anymore, that their kid is actually thriving in this new world, the one their parents sacrificed to raise them in

Every parent who flipped out when their son decided to major in sociology instead of computer engineering, because they could never have made a living with a degree like that

(but he's going to do more than make a living with that degree; he's going to make a difference)

Every parent who constantly monitors their daughter to ensure she waits for marriage, because in the old country she would have been shunned or worse if she didn't

(but she's not there right? her parents worked and sacrificed and bled to bring her up in this more forgiving world)

Every parent who sits next to their kid for hours a day until they get their daily hour of piano practice done (and yells at them until they do every day, disturbing their neighbour, who's just trying to focus on doing her research and grading her students' papers, not that this is personal or anything), because the parent managed to survive and to move to this country by working relentlessly at everything they did and can't imagine a world where a 7-year-old is allowed to play and to find their own interests

(but they will, maybe not then, but one day, years down the line, they may even end up liking music)

Maybe it's that I'm a kid of immigrants who knows a lot of kids of immigrants, but I think I'm more forgiving of people who raised their children in a culture different from their own and struggled to adjust to that.

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luminouslywriting · 2 months

Text

Chapter 26 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: If I wasn't getting declarations of war before, I certainly am going to now. Oops?? Anyways—sorry, not sorry! As always, let me know what you think!

December 1944

A day trip to London should have been the exact cure that Ruth needed to help cope with the loss of two of her siblings. Especially during the oh so jovial holiday season—and the current Colonel thought it prudent to get her manic work-ethic away from the men that were just trying to do their jobs. Robby had been sent to London with her but Ruth hated the fact that they were even going to be gone for a weekend.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Ruth wasn’t one to show the emotions she was feeling or let something as visceral as grief go easily. So though she was miles from her job and from her work, her mind lingered and did not leave her thought-processes. And it was painfully evident to Robert Rosenthal that Ruth Sharpe was sinking in her ship of solitude and isolationist policy. In comparison, Abe was doing much better—seeing a therapist and everything. But not Ruth.

He wished that she would just let him in—to some level or degree—even the deck of the ship of solitude would do at this point. But she was keeping him far from her—and in the storm of Ruth Sharpe’s grief, he was a sinking man overboard that would never find his way to a lighthouse.

Any attempt at conversations broaching the topic of either Sarah or John—or retrieving John’s locker from London ended in harsh words and distance. And that wasn’t what she needed right now—he knew that. So he had stopped pushing the issue several weeks back in the hopes that being her friend would be enough. He should have known that when it came to Ruth, ever-unchanging and firm in her stances, it would not be enough to just be there for her.

At the moment, Ruth was purchasing a pair of men’s gloves, presumably her present to Abe when they returned. The cane that was supporting her weight made a tapping noise as she rejoined him.

Truth be told, it hurt Robby Rosenthal that Ruth would hide the extremities of her spinal pain from everyone. The cane had come as a necessity the month prior when she had nearly collapsed and could barely stand the pain in her back yet again. It had steadily been getting worse and with her refusal to care for herself, he had no choice but to go to the doctor on base about the situation and present her with a cane. She hadn’t spoken to him for three days before she agreed to use the damn thing—and she hadn’t said a word about the cane since.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Robby questioned.

“Satin hair-ties, a book for Liesel, a pair of gloves for Abe, and a snowglobe for the little brat,” Ruth answered, glancing at her bag. She pinched her coat together tighter, glancing at the falling snow outside. “We should probably get on the road soon or we may end up stuck in London.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Robby replied lightly. “It might not be that bad. You and me, just spending time in London—we could go dancing.”

Ruth’s features nearly fell at the words. “I can barely stand and you want to go dancing?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know what you mean.”

“Well,” Robby glanced around at the Christmas market, another idea brimming to the surface. “We could always stop by the—”

“No.”

“But Ruth, John’s locker is just sitting there—”

Ruth’s eyes flashed with anger and she jabbed her cane in his direction. “I am not picking up my little brother’s locker until I see a damn body.”

Sympathy and an overwhelming ache to hold her in his arms and comfort her overtook Robby’s brain as he looked at her. “Ruth—”

“No, I said no a few weeks ago and I meant it then. I mean it now. Leave it alone, Rosenthal.”

Ah, the dulcet tones of his last name—which well and truly meant she was unhappy with the suggestion and the fact that he was prodding yet again.

“I just think that it might help you—”

Stopping short on the sidewalk, Ruth drank in the sight of Robby with a frown on her face. She couldn’t help the fact that she felt like she was a caged animal and wanted to bite back against anyone that wanted something from her. “You’re not a part of my damn family, Rosie. Now back the hell off.”

“Not part of this family?” Robby echoed the words, surprise clear on his face.

“No, you’re not. Did I stutter?” Ruth knew that she was being mean at the moment. Knew that she was lying through her teeth because she wanted to lash out and hurt the world that had hurt her so much. And if that meant hurting Robert Rosenthal, then consequences be damned for that.

“God, you’re such a—”

“A what? A bitch?” Ruth’s gaze narrowed at him and a sneer curled up in her lip. The snow was long forgotten as it fell down around them—but Ruth just felt nothing but the fire of rage and grief gnawing at her and consuming everything around her. She would be a wildfire that ate up everything in its path and did not look back.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Robby barked out the words just as quickly and viciously as she had suggested her original assumption.

“No? You know, there is something that I will never understand about you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Why the hell you’re still here—I didn’t ask for you to be here. I don’t want your help or your friendship and I sure as hell don’t need it.”

“Bullshit, Ruth.”

“Bullshit, no, I’ll tell you what’s bullshit—”

“Do you ever shut up?!” Robby nearly roared the words out at her and Ruth abruptly took a step back, gaze narrowing at him. “What’s bullshit is you—and the way that you won’t ever let anyone in! I’m not trying to push you away, I’m holding onto you for dear fucking life and you are shoving me away with every wall you keep putting up!”

“So jump ship, you idiot!” Ruth snarled. “Take a hint!”

“No!” Robby bellowed. “That’s not how this works!”

“How what works?” Ruth’s voice went deathly calm as she stared at him—a coldness only accentuated by the snow. “This fake relationship? Because there is nothing here, nothing real. We are not friends and we are sure as hell not lovers. And as far as I’m concerned, this portion of our lives—the lie—it’s over.”

A cold and meaningless laugh ripped from Robby’s throat—it threatened to spill out as tears but he did not do that. “You’re running away again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, Ruth—Ruth Sharpe—running away again,” Robby said, taking a step closer to her and pressing a finger into her shoulder for emphasis. “You’re running away because you’re scared. You’re so afraid of anyone seeing the real you—you can’t fathom anyone actually wanting to be in your life or loving you—and you run the other way. You gave up someone who loved you because you’re selfishly scared of anything real! And you’re doing the same thing to me! You’re lonely and pitiful and we both know it!”

Deafening silence ricocheted across the gap between them and all Ruth could do was stare at him. Completely and totally unable to speak, unable to remember how to form words, unable to even deny the facts—because he was right and she knew it. And the hurt that ached in her chest was like a bloody and gaping wound.

So Ruth Sharpe did not say anything. She just gave a simple nod as Robert Rosenthal regretted everything that he had just said. And he didn’t say anything either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 1945

The day that Robert Rosenthal flew the men of the Hundredth to Berlin was the day that Ruth Sharpe’s entire life came to a screeching halt. There was no way for her to know that it was the last time she’d see either of them—there had been a hopeful feeling in the air when they had left.

She had carried on quite normally. She had prayed with Abe before he left and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. At just three months shy of his 18th birthday, Ruth supposed he was no longer the boy that had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts wide-eyed and just a kid. No, he was a man now and there was no denying that. He seemed excited to hit Berlin, excited to head out—and though he had asked her to say goodbye to Rosie, she had not done so.

What would have been the point?

Rosie was a capable pilot and considering that he had never led his men astray a single time, this time should be no different. She wasn’t about to go and talk to him now—not when her pride was still hurt and her heart was still trying to pick up the pieces of trying to leave him behind.

They could talk when he got back—and she might even apologize for being a bitch. She might tell him that she missed him and their friendship. She might tell him that she was just hurting and that she really missed being able to talk to him.

But that was never to be.

She sat and waited in the tower, as she always did—fully knowing the risks of sending the men straight to the heart of Berlin were higher than ever. Jack Kidd and Harry Crosby sat beside her, silently watching and waiting for the boys of the Hundredth to return. It was several hours before any of the planes would come limping in, trailing smoke and creaking as they either crashed to the ground or fell to the earth in line.

And when they counted and Rosie’s plane was not amongst the returning planes, Ruth felt her heart stop beating in that treacherous chest of hers.

Her breath stole away in her throat and she found herself utterly rooted to the spot and unable to move a single inch. John, Sarah, Abe—Robby—all just gone, all just torn away in the blink of an eye. They were gone faster than a match could burn up and faster than the tides in the very ocean could change.

“Ruth—” Kidd managed to catch her around the waist before she crumpled to her knees, hand covering her mouth in absolute silent horror.

No sounds escaped her throat and the silent scream was louder to everyone in that damn tower than the very sirens that were sounding outside. Because the silent tears that streamed down her face and no one knew what to do. Or what to say. Because what do you possibly say to someone who just lost her brother and friend in the same day?

“Did—” Ruth’s voice scratched out in horror. “Did I just lose them both?”

“I don’t—I—” Crosby’s gaze flickered back outside to the planes, unable to find any words. “We don’t know.”

“I can’t—” Ruth’s voice tore off as she rose to her feet, quicker than any of them could anticipate. “I can’t breathe—”

Bile rose up in her throat and she made a mad dash for the outside of the tower. Making it two steps outside, Ruth caught onto the railing and the bile spilled up her throat. She gagged as her breakfast deposited on the ground below, but she didn’t wait around for more bile to come. She rushed down the stairs, nearly skipping them two at a time—cane left behind on the ground where she had been kneeling.

By the time that she had reached a secluded place, Ruth had no damn idea where she was. Snow dusted the ground and clumped together and her knees shouldered the numb cold as she sank into the ground. More bile rose up in her throat and she let out a choked sob as the rest of her stomach emptied its contents on the ground in front of her.

Fisting at the snow in front of her, she slammed a fist into the ground. “No, no, no, no—bring them back! Bring them back RIGHT NOW!” She screamed.

Her voice echoed around her in the trees but she was met with silence.

The realization that she would never hug her little brother again made her want to die on the spot. Her breath came out in short spurts as she curled into a fetal position, wishing desperately for all of this to go away.

She’d never hug Abe again or adjust his tie. She’d never get to watch him graduate High School or figure out what he was going to do with his life. He was never going to marry anyone or father any children and she’d never get to see any of the amazing things that he would do.

And then her mind betrayed her and shifted—

A horrible wail left Ruth’s lips as she realized the very thing that she had been denying. The thing that Rosie had been saying for this entire time. That she had been in love with him. That she had been scared and he had been right. She had run away—far away—and now it was too late for them.

She’d never tell him that she loved him or that she wasn’t scared anymore. She’d never tell him that she was wrong and that he was right. Her pride had been too far in the way and now there was no fixing that. He was dead and gone and Ruth felt the keen sting of loss in a way she had never felt before. Because for all of her acting with Rosie, it was also the safest she had ever felt.

Rosie—she had taken him for granted. He had loved her and been there for her and stood by her through it all. Through the insane schemes of her brother Abe and helped her with your problems. He had been her friend and he had been more than that. He had begged her to listen and to let him in and she had refused. She was to blame for this—she was absolutely certain of it. A punishment for denying the love that she so clearly had in her life.

Ruth slowly sat up, mind racing. Surely—surely if Abe and Robby were dead—she would feel it. She would know. Because she loved them. And God would not just let her suffer needlessly. No—Robby was a damn good pilot and he would’ve let himself die first before letting anything happen to Abe.

They were alive. She was certain of it.

And she couldn’t just sit here waiting for them to find their way home. They were lost and she needed to go out and find them. She felt it like a siren’s song in her very soul. So as Ruth rose to her feet, her breaths evened out and she stared straight ahead, a firm determination filling her soul.

“Alright boys. If I have to fight an angel? So be it.”

#mota fanfic #mota #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #oc originalfemalecharacters #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal x oc #ruth sharpe #ruth x rosie

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