.ᐟ paring: pathetic!steve harrington x fem!reader.
summary: steve had his insecurities, and they all come to fruition when he overheard someone mention you leaving hawkins. leaving him.
warnings: steve crying, angst with fluff.
a/n: OH BOYYYY i’m such a sucker for pathetic!steve this is my obsession atm. me and @keerysfreckles are sooo obsessed and i took it upon myself to write !! enjoy!!!
steve doesn’t mean to hear it. he’s halfway done working on something for the radio station. no help of dustin. that’s when he hard your name. too soft, too careful coming from robin and will.
“she’s leaving hawkins after this. some college out of state. big deal.”
the world stops.
the entire time he’s driving to your house he’s panicking. knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tight he could’ve left his hand print.
his mind is racing with every possibility known to man. why wouldn’t you tell him you’d got accepted to a university? were you just planning on leaving without even bidding him goodbye?
by the time steve pushes open your bedroom door, his chest feels too tight, like something’s been sitting on it for weeks and finally decided to crush him.
you look up from your suitcase, mid folding a pair of slacks before neatly placing them on top of the others. “steve.”
his stomach drops, hand still on the doorknob of your door. his eyes scan the suitcase, then his gaze travels up to your eyes.
“you’re—” his voice cracks, pathetic, humiliating. “you’re actually going.”
you freeze. “steve, i was going to tell you—”
“when?” he asks, stepping closer. “after i walked you to the bus or… or what?” he laughs, but it comes out wrong. small. hurt.
“i knew it,” he mutters. “i knew you’d realize you could do better.”
you frown. “what are you talking about?”
he gestures helplessly at himself. the scars. the bruises that never quite fade. hawkins. all of the times he tried so desperately to protect you from the horrors of hell that was the town. only to fail. “this” he says. “me. this town. i’m just… i’m something you grow out of.”
you say his name, sharper now, ”steve.” but he’s already unraveling.
“i heard them say it,” he blurts. “that you deserve more. smarter. safer. someone who isn’t..” his throat closes. “someone who’s me.”
except that isn’t what he heard. he only heard you were leaving for college. a college you had been dreaming about since he’s known you. the thought of you leaving him alone manifested all these insecurities he thought he kept locked away.
you step forward. “steve, stop—”
“i can be better,” he rushes out, eyes glassy already. “i’ll study, i’ll get out, i’ll do whatever you want. just— just don’t leave like this.”
you leave the suitcase, stepping in front of your bed looking up at steve. “i’m not leaving you. i wouldn’t dream of it.”
but steve’s already sinking. it’s not dramatic. it’s instinct. one second he’s standing, the next his knees hit the floor with a soft thud that makes your heart ache.
he looks up at you.
god. he looks wrecked.
wide, wet eyes. lashes clumped with tears he’s trying so hard not to let fall. his hands hover, unsure, before gripping the hem of your shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
“please,” he whispers, balling fits on your shirt while pressing his face against your abdomen.
it barely sounds like steve harrington at all.
“please don’t go. i can’t-” his voice breaks completely now, tears spilling over, sliding down his cheeks. “i can’t be the thing you leave behind.”
your hands cradle the sides of his face. you try to cut in “steve-” but he doesn’t let you. he shakes his head frantically, scooting closer on his knees like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.
“i know i’m a lot,” he whines softly, words tumbling out. “i know i mess up and i get scared and i don’t say the right things, but i love you. i love you so much it hurts.”
his forehead presses into your thigh, suppressing a sob. “i don’t care if i’m not enough for the world,” he chokes. “just…just let me be enough for you.”
you cradle his face, thumbs wiping at his tears. you lean down, pressing your forehead to his.
“im not leaving you,” you whisper. “and you’re more than enough for me, steve.”
His eyes snap back up to yours, hopeful and terrified all at once. “then why are you leaving?” he asks. “why not tell me?”
you kiss his tear-soaked cheek. “i was. i was waiting for the right time. i didn’t want you to freak out.”
steve doesn’t let go. his hands still balled with your t-shirt. he sniffles. “i would anyways.”
“i know” you laughed. you ran your fingers through his hair. “im not leaving you, steve.” you repeat. “i just need to broaden my horizons. i can’t do that in hawkins.”
even after your words settle, even after his breathing slows from ragged sobs to shaky little inhales, his fingers stay twisted in your shirt like they’re afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens them.
he nods, swallowing hard, then immediately presses closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against you again like the world is too loud, too dangerous without you right there.
“i didn’t mean to freak out,” he murmurs into your stomach. “i just… god, when i thought you were leaving…” his grip tightens. “it felt like the upside down all over again. like everything was about to disappear.”
you sink fully to the floor with him, knees knocking, arms wrapping around his shoulders.
steve melts. his whole weight slumps into you, head dropping onto your shoulder, breaths stuttering every now and then like his body hasn’t realized yet that he’s safe.
“i hate that im like this,” he mutters. “needy. freaking out over nothing.”
“it wasn’t nothing,” you say softly.
he shakes his head. “it feels like it is when it’s me.”
his words break your heart a little.
you pull back just enough to look at him. his eyes are red-rimmed, lashes still wet, cheeks flushed from crying. he looks younger like this. smaller. not the guy who swings nailed bats at monsters.
just steve. your steve.
“look at me” you say.
he does immediately. always does.
“you’re not something i can leave,” you tell him. “you’re not a phase. you’re not a mistake.”
his lips tremble.
“then why does it feel like everyone’s gonna realize you’re too good for me?” he asks quietly.
you cup his face, thumbs warm against his cheeks. “because you don’t see yourself the way i see you.”
he leans into your touch instinctively, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
“im scared you’ll wake up one day and regret choosing me,” he admits. “like— like I’m holding you back.”
“you’re not,” you say firmly.
he opens his eyes again, searching your face like he’s bracing for the truth to hurt.
“you swear?” he asks. “because i can’t—” His voice cracks again, softer this time. “i can’t lose you. i don’t think i’d survive it.”
you pull him back into you, holding him tighter. steve exhales a long, shaky breath and clings again, arms wrapping around your waist, knees pressing into the floor between yours.
“ill go with you,” he blurts suddenly. “wherever. i don’t care if it’s far or if i don’t know what im doing. ill work any job. i’ll figure it out.”
you smile sadly into his hair.
“we don’t have to decide everything tonight.”
he nods, but doesn’t pull away. if anything, he scoots closer, forehead resting against your collarbone.
“can you just… stay right now?” he asks.
“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.
he lets out a small, broken sound. half laugh, half sob and finally relaxes completely against you. “okay,” he murmurs.
minutes pass. maybe more. steve’s fingers absentmindedly trace the fabric of your shirt, grounding himself, checking you’re real. “i love you,” he says suddenly, quietly. “i know i say it a lot. i just.” he swallows. “i need you to know.”
you press a kiss to his temple. “i know.”
and for the first time all night, steve harrington finally feels like the ground beneath him isn’t about to disappear.
haymitch knows it the moment the peacekeeper opens the door and gestures him inside like he’s delivering a package instead of a boy who bled for their entertainment.
it’s too big, too clean, too untouched. the air smells like polish and new wood and something sweet he can’t place. capitol perfume lingering in the walls. nothing creaks when he steps inside. nothing groans. the floors don’t complain beneath his boots like the ones back home did.
this place doesn’t know him, he doesn’t know the place, like two strangers stuck together by force rather than choice.
the door closes behind him with a sound that feels permanent.
for a moment, he just stands there. still wearing the suit they made him put on. still sticky with the echo of applause that followed him onto the train, the hands that touched him without asking, the voices that called his name like it meant something good.
victor.
the word tastes bitter.
he thinks of the arena, sun beating down on blood soaked ground, the way the cannon fire echoed even after he stopped counting. he thinks of the look in her eyes when-
he stops himself.
he can’t do this.
haymitch shrugs out of the jacket and lets it hit the floor . it lands in a heap, expensive and ruined. he doesn’t bother hanging it up. doesn’t bother looking around anymore.
that’s when he sees you.
you’re sitting on the couch like you don’t belong here either, knees drawn up, hands knotted in the fabric of your dress. not capitol made. not polished, no bedazzled sequins, feathers, bold colors. it was something simple, something like home. your hair hangs loose around your shoulders like you didn’t know what else to do with it.
you look small in the massive room, quiet and still with nothing to do but wait.
for a beat, neither of you move.
then your eyes meet his.
they widen, not in surprise, but in relief so sharp it hurts to see. like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks and only just remembered how to breathe again.
“haymitch..” you whisper.
that’s all it takes.
he doesn’t remember crossing the room. he doesn’t remember dropping to his knees. one second he’s standing there, hollow and numb, and the next he’s in front of you, clutching at your dress like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him above water.
his body folds in on itself.
the sob tears out of him like it’s been waiting to be released for far too long.
“i didn’t..” his voice cracks, useless. “i didn’t know if..”
you’re already holding him. “shh” you soothe his broken sobs.
your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers digging into his hair, pressing his head against your chest like you’ve done it a hundred times before. like it’s muscle memory. like you remember the boy he was before they turned him into what he is now.
he cries like it’s killing him.
ugly, wrecked sobs that shake his entire body. the kind he swallowed in the capitol, the kind he swallowed on the train, the kind he swallowed when they crowned him with a smile and called it mercy.
“i tried,” he gasps. “i really tried so hard, i swear i did. i kept thinking that if i..if i could just-“
“i know,” you murmur, voice breaking. “i know.”
his hands twist in your clothes. he presses his face harder into you, like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll disappear too.
“they’re dead,” he says, raw. “they’re all dead and i’m here- and they keep telling me i won like that means something.”
you sniffle, cradling his face like he was made out of the most precious of gems. “haymitch..” you try to plea.
“you didn’t win,” you whisper fiercely. “you survived. you had to do what you had to do. it’s not same.”
you don’t leave his side. you never did.
not when the escort knocks and you tell them to go away. not when the house settles into an eerie nighttime silence that feels louder than the crowd ever was. not when he finally lets you guide him upstairs because his legs don’t seem to work right anymore.
the bedroom is just as wrong as the rest of the house. huge bed, silk sheets, and curtains thick enough to block out the world.
haymitch sits on the edge of the mattress like he’s afraid it’ll bite him.
you kneel in front of him, hands careful as you unbutton him out of the capitol suit. your fingers linger, not lingering for the sake of desire, but familiarity. care.
you’ve touched him like this before, close enough that the memory aches.
he flinches when you peel the shirt off his shoulders.
“sorry,” you mutter, studying his face. “i didn’t mean to..”
haymitch shakes his head, “no, no it..it’s fine.”
you see the scars before he can stop you.
fresh. angry. some still bandaged. some already starting to fade into something permanent. your breath catches, and he watches your face carefully, like he’s bracing for revulsion.
Instead, your hands shake. your touch ghosting over his skin. watching goosebumps rise.
“oh, haymitch…” your voice breaks.
he looks away. “they kept saying it’d heal” he mutters.
you press your forehead to his knee “d’you remember that summer?” you asked. “i used to watch you fall asleep on the porch”
he swallows.
“you’d pretend you weren’t tired. that you didn’t work so hard with hattie.” you continue. “just to see me before nightfall.”
“and you’d just lay there. the birds singing..”
his jaw tightens.
“that feels like someone else,” he says. “like a kid i watched die.”
you don’t argue, you look up at him with those eyes. god, he missed those eyes. almost a month away and he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again.
you help him lie down instead.
“rest, haymitch.” you press a kiss to his temple. “y’must be exhausted.”
the nightmares don’t wait long. they never do.
you wake to the sound of him choking on air, body jerking violently against the sheets. his hands claw at the mattress, fingers flexing like he’s gripping a weapon that isn’t there.
he doesn’t hear you, his eyes are open but empty, staring at something only he can see. his breathing comes in sharp, broken gasps like his lungs forgot how to work properly.
you move like you’re on autopilot. gathering him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest, one hand firm between his shoulder blades, the other threading through his curls. you rock him slowly, grounding, steady.
“it’s over,” you murmur. “you’re here. you’re with me. i’ve got you.”
his body fights you for a moment. panic, memory, and instinct before it finally gives.
he collapses into you with a sound that is pitiful. “i didn’t mean to,” he whispers. “i didn’t mean to let them die.”
“i know..” your throat tightens. rocking him. trying to soothe him to the best of your ability.
his hands fist your clothes, trying to pull you impossibly close. he trembles, breath slowly evening out as he clings to the sound of your heartbeat. long enough for his body to finally understand that the danger has passed. long enough for exhaustion to drag him back under. not into sleep, but something close enough.
when his eyes flutter open again, they're wet and glassy, unfocused.
"i thought i lost you” he reaches up, running a few fingers through your hair. as if he’s trying to ground himself.
he searches your face, vulnerability bare and unguarded.
you shake your head, “nah. nothin’ll take me from you”
a pause.
he stares into your eyes. his own burning with salty tears, trying to find his purpose.
"they'll ruin me," he says quietly. "snow.”
“the capitol. They won't stop.. it’ll just be a constant..”
"i know" you don’t let him finish. “but you don't have to face it alone."
“don’t worry about that now, just focus on sleeping..kay?”
haymitch stares at you some more, his hand coming to caress the side of your face. the pad of his thumb outlining your features. you were there, you were real.
he says nothing, just studies you before nodding. “you’ll stay?” he asks. he needed the reassurance. a piece of his soul telling him this could all be a capitol illusion.
you smile sadly, pushing some curls from his eyes. “i’m staying, hay” you say softly. “promise.”
and for the first time since the reaping, haymitch abernathy lets himself close his eyes. not because he's exhausted, not because he's numb, but because someone is holding the pieces he can't carry alone.
promise.
he lays against the silk sheets, his hand still holding out for yours.
“promise” he repeated it himself before finally finding the peace of sleep.
not in the relaxing way, like before you’d drift off to sleep and have the best nights rest. no, this was deafening. unable to from a thought, only able to think about the buzzing coming from the lights above.
he felt sick.
liam doesn’t get queasy like that. he physically can’t. scott told him that one time when liam used having the flu as an excuse to ditch school.
thanks, scott.
but in the moment, he was sure he was going to vomit. his stomach churned with bile rising in his throat, as panic overtook his trembling hands.
it happened in seconds.
everything was moving so fast, liam wasn’t thinking straight. one moment he remembers the sound of the chains clinking against the hardwood floors, mumbling things under your breath as you secured the chains, binding liam to the wall.
all for his safety, of course.
then, it was an ear piercing scream. louder than anything lydia has ever done.
this was guttural, ear splitting, and fueled by fear. liam felt it in his chest, like scott’s howls. connected. liam wasn’t sure how to explain the sound that you had cried.
he’s trapped in a haze. the feeling of static courses through his limbs, like a hundred tiny needles pricking beneath his skin, impossible to ignore.
you were fearless, he knew that. you were there, in the middle of all of the supernatural mess. a mere human trying to help out the one you love. you were only trying to help, but he got violent.
like the stupid abomination of a mutt he is.
one swipe.
the chains ripped from the drywall, dragging by his sides. leaving a dusty trail as he trudged further into the bedroom.
then, his name.
“liam-!”
all of his senses come rushing back, the warm red liquid drips from his hands, staining the wood floor. his chest heaving, straining as his eyes finally focus. all the noise fading.
metallic and iron like scent filling his nostrils. overbearing, dominating.
he hadn’t moved from the edge of the bed in hours. he couldn’t, he refused. what happened, what he did. that would be burned into his bones. unable to forget.
he just kept replaying it. every minute. plaguing his memory like a parasite.
the way your hands flew to your abdomen stumbling back on your heels. fingers sticky with the red crimson currently gushing and turning your grey shirt and sweatpants a dark red. his name slipping from your lips again, but this time it was quiet. begging. pleading.
you caught yourself on the wall, breath catching in your throat. keeping one hand on the wound to keep from making more of a mess.
the worst part about it? liam knew you wouldn’t blame him.
now, you’re lying on his bed. on the left side, the one you had claimed since sophomore year. six years ago. his head is dropped into his hands, propped on his knees.
it’s been days since it happened. since liam lost control and hurt the one person he swore to protect. and it still hurts like it just happened.
he can still feel the sensation of his nails tearing your flesh. like it was nothing. his hands shake, he finds it hard to steady the way his heart slams against his chest, breathing labored.
liam cringes, feeling nauseated again.
he pushes himself off the edge of the bed, his hands find the sink before he can comprehend. the water is running, loud in his ears like he’s standing underneath a waterfall but liam doesn’t care.
he’s scrubbing until his skin goes raw, he knows nothing is there. but he can still feel it. the water is scalding. steam rising and creating a blanket of precipitation on the morrow.
liam’s face contorts into a snarl. blowing air from his nose as he pouts more soap into the palm of his hand. just keeps scrubbing. trying to get that feeling washed away.
a floorboard creaks behind him. liam freezes, shutting the water off.
another creak, followed by the faintest whimper. “liam?”
he’s turning on his heels, walking to the doorway. hands by his side, soapy water dripping on the floor.
“y/n?” his voice gets caught in his throat, watching you.
you had the covers thrown off your legs, trying to find your balance. you held the wall with one hand, the other pushing you off the mattress.
“you shouldn’t be getting out of bed.” he purses his lips.
you don’t respond.
“you’ve lost too much blood, y/n.” he steps closer, hesitating at at first. he wipes his hands against his henley then holding his arms out to assist you.
“i’m fine” you try to wave him off, but it does no good.
you weren’t, anyone with eyes could tell.
it would’ve made more sense to be admitted to be hospital in your current state. washed out complexion, chapped lips, sweat glistening your skin from the pain. and a bandage, underneath your shirt that extended to your shoulder to your abdomen.
you don’t know why you refused the hospital.
maybe it was the fear of doctors. or the sterile smell of a hospital hallway. or, the questioning. because how do you explain an injury of this kind?
“you’re not fine” he rebutted. hands hovering over your frame, like he’s scared of hurting you further. “look at you, y/n. you can barely stand.” liam’s voice comes out harsher than he wanted. his eyes are taking over your frame over and over, as you try to stand.
a red stain begins blooming on your abdomen, growing larger by the second. “y/n, please sit down.” he’s begging at this point. but he still doesn’t touch you.
he’s afraid.
a cry gets stuck in your throat. your brows knitting together, accepting your fate you lean against the wall. you try to catch your breath. “liam-“ you’re looking at him now, through your lashes.
“i hurt you, y/n.” you see his inner turmoil. he’s actively beating himself up. how his eyes linger too long on the red stain. your hand comes up to cover your abdomen, applying pressure.
liam stiffens, hands balling into fists at his sides. you didn’t need to have any supernatural powers to hear how shallow his breathing became. “i should’ve protected you. that’s my job. protect you from any- everything. especially, me.”
he finally looks to your eyes, the ones that always saw the good in him. the good that wasn’t there.
“liam“ you huff through gritted teeth, pressing yourself further against the wall. hoping something would ease the pain. but nothing made it hurt less.
“just…just stop” he cuts you off. “stop! y/n!” he raises his voice this time, which, in result, causes you to flinch. “please. just. stop.”
without realizing it, his hands are on your shoulders. steadying you. keeping your swaying body from falling and further injuring yourself. “stop saying you’re fine. don’t lie to me, please.”
your eyes are wide, staring into his irises. seeing the fear consuming him. that’s what this was. he was so afraid of hurting you again, or even seeing you suffer through just to make him feel better. like he wasn’t some kind of animal. “i’m not lying” you shake your head.
your hand reaches for his forearm. liam flinches, jaw clenching tighter. “i put myself in that position. okay? i made that decision.”
liam doesn’t move, he only stares into your eyes as you spoke.
“you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
he scoffs, lips parting. “then why did i? hmm?”
you say nothing. your grip tightens on his arm, trying to get through to him.
“i should’ve told you no. i knew what would happen. im just to damn selfish.”
you shake your head, “no. that isn’t it” you stand straight, back flesh with the wall.
liam huffs, half laugh, half bark. his hand grabs your wrist and presses your palm to his chest. “you feel that?”
a low grumble under his chest, you can feel the vibrations through your finger tips, your arms, to your chest. his eyes flash a gold for a split second before he squeezes them shut. “this thing? it doesn’t care that you were worried, or that you love me. it only wants control” liam turns away, back now facing you. his head drops.
you’re sniffling now. “no..” your voice breaks, face twisting into a frown. “you’re not a monster, liam.”
you take a step, carefully. your arms wrap around his midsection, pressing your cheek to his back. “it takes time to control it. scott even told you, you just need to learn.” you press a kiss to his shoulder blade.
“y/n” he sighs. he feels himself breaking, under your touch. his world crumbling.
“i’m here, liam.” you’d say quietly, ignoring your body’s protests. “it was a freak accident.”
at that, liam tenses again. freak accident. how could you so..nonchalant after this? he mutilated you, almost took your life. yet, you still touch him and look at him with the same tenderness.
his chest rumbles with a growl, lower this time. protective? predatory? even he can’t tell.
“no” he shakes his head, “i’m not comfortable calling it a freak accident.” he turns, facing you now. his eyes drifting back down to your abdomen. “i could’ve killed you.”
“but you didn’t” you quip.
“i almost did” he argues.
liam bites down on his bottom lip. “you should’ve ran years ago, it would’ve benefited you.”
you blink then you scoff out a laugh. “seriously, liam?”
he nods, hands coming to either sides of your face. they hover. he’s too afraid to touch you, to cause more harm. “i can’t stand the thought of seeing you in pain. i can’t be the one hurting you, y/n. you’re too precious for me.”
his hands finally meet your face, warm skin. he could feel your heartbeat, steady, alive. but, he kept thinking about the what if? “i keep replaying it. that look in your eye, y/n. the blood, the screams. how am i supposed to touch you again? or even think about letting you see me in that state ever again?”
you freeze, eyes frantically searching his. “don’t do this, liam. don’t push me away”
liam shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek. “i have to, y/n. to protect you”
“this isn’t protection.” you snap.
liam says nothing at first. touching you with the lightest hand, you can feel him shake. he clinches his jaw again. “it is. everything i do is to protect you. you have to believe me”
your bottom lip quivers, you’re quiet. trying to find the right words. one hand comes up to cradle the side of his face as he was doing to you. you watch him melt into your touch, head going heavy. “you can’t run from this…run from me..or us..”
liam squeezes his eyes shut, “y/n, you don’t understand..”
“i do” you’d say, swallowing your tears.
“you’ll overcome this, you’ll learn, become just as good as scott. maybe even better..” you assure, not moving your hand.
“no..” his voice breaks into a whine, head dipping further. “you almost died, because of me.”
you move his hand from the side of your face to your chest. letting him feel your beating heart. “i know you feel it, and i know you hear it. i’m alive, liam.”
he knows you’re right, that you’re still here. but he still can’t get over it. how he lost control. what’s stopping him from doing it again. “you’re too forgiving.”
you shake your head, “because i know that wasn’t you. you wouldn’t do this to me on purpose”
a pause.
you bring his hands back to your face and pressing a kiss to his fingertips. “my liam wouldn’t hurt me.”
“find it in your heart to forgive yourself.”
he cries. liam dunbar cries for the second time since you’ve known him.
synopsis: in which hongjoong doesn’t like that fact you don’t care he’s cheating on you. arranged marriage or not.
warnings: arranged marriage, cheating, swearing, mentions of blood and killing people, hongjoong is kind of a dick but he’s in love, probably more.
w/c: 2.8k
a/n: oof okay i haven’t written for kpop in SOOOO long and this is officially my first ateez fic. i saw the ateez in cinema thing and wow. hongjoong wrecked me SO HARD HAHAHA OMG (jongho ily look away) anyways, i decided to finally write for my ult group!! enjoy!!
a/n: pt.2 ALSO readers personality is kinda based off of polly from peaky blinders iykyk. nonchalant badass!!!! happy reading!!
disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and does not represent ateez or kim hongjoong as a person.
growing up, every girl has their dream. maybe it’s becoming the first woman president, or to travel the world. but for most, it’s getting married.
the most romantic proposal. trying on the dress until you find the perfect one, wearing that ring your significant other picked out, the flowers, venue, and marrying your true love.
that was your dream, too.
but you didn’t get to live that dream. no, you were thrown in the deep end after your twenty-third birthday. no proposal, no wedding, no dress, no flowers, not even a beautiful ring. a simple gold band was all you were given by the man you married.
“it will benefit our family, don’t you want to make your family proud?” your father would say, after you had gone off on him. yelling in his face about your freedom, how you didn’t ask to be born into the life that your family had. of course, you did.
you left home for college, left the country to focus on schooling, unaware that your father was tracking you down and had his henchmen kidnap you and bring you home.
you were married two weeks later to kim hongjoong.
boss of sector one.
he was the most successful and notorious bosses of the current era, your father trailing somewhere behind him. hence, your involvement.
a contract written up years ago between your father and hongjoongs father. then, hongjoong inherited his father's gang, and the members who held his closest friends. all he needed was a wife.
you.
it was truly your worst nightmare, sharing a home with a violent and dangerous man, with equally dangerous henchmen.
but you managed. you had your routine and adapted to the way of your new life. you could adapt to anything, it was one of your many talents.
hongjoong wasn’t a man of many words. on the field, giving orders, he was straight to the point and commanding. no time for jokes or anything of the sort. when hongjoong had a mission, it was to be done and done quickly without getting caught.
in and out.
however, in his time being the leader, he found it to be incredibly lonely. he had no one by his side, he was often left alone with his thoughts and an unlimited amount of liquor.
hongjoong always knew about the marriage; his father would hold it over his head whenever he acted out of place. truthfully, he didn’t know what to expect when that day came. but it wasn’t you.
you were normal. you dressed normal when you two were married. hongjoong told himself that he could easily ignore you and continue with his job.
you acted like he didn’t exist, you’d barely look his way, you wouldn’t even speak to him unless you were working.
eventually, hongjoong made it his mission to break your walls. he was growing tired of the nonchalant facade you had. he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t fathom how you just didn’t care.
because deep down, hongjoong cared immensely about you. more than he’d ever admit out loud.
the first time hongjoong ever actually treated you like his wife was during one of your first missions when both of you had to be present. something about a money laundering scandal on hongjoongs territory.
yeah, that didn’t last long.
the two of you walked in the gala, his hand around your waist. to your surprise, his touch was rather gentle and soft. hard to believe, coming from the man who could command a country with a wave of his finger.
he was accommodating your every need, making sure you were safe and secure by his side. though, you could easily fend for yourself.
“relax, sweetheart,” he’d whisper in your ear, out of earshot of everyone else. his breath was hot against your skin, pulling you back to reality. “i’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
after that mission, you found it hard to view hongjoong with the person’s you had made up for him in your mind.
it’s cliche. you live with someone for two years, and you start to learn things about them. even if you didn’t share a bedroom or bed together.
you knew his favorite food, the way he’d stay up all night working on files while you’d be picking away at books from his library. you knew he stocked the library for you, he’d always has yunho on side missions to find books you had on your list to be read.
you hated how much you cared for him after so long. all because of that damn mission.
the walls of the mansion were covered with miscellaneous paintings, the dark oak complimenting the colors on the paint on the canvases. each stroke holding a story that the artist was trying to convey.
you sat across the stretched dining table from your husband. a glass of chardonnay in front of you on the table, and a novel in her lap.
tensions in the mansion had been high for a while now. it was to be expected since you were married to one of the most feared men in the country, and you, nonchalant, quiet, and reserved.
you scared most of the men working for hongjoong. wooyoung, mingi, and san probably fearing you the most. more than their boss. one look from you could shut them up in a heartbeat.
you curated that facade to navigate life when hongjoong wasn’t around.
god you were frightening.
secondly, hongjoong had been cheating on you for some time now and you didn’t care. after all, you had no say in this marriage. you’ve navigated life after being married for two years and going on missions by his side.
you were living the life you sworn off years ago, you wanted to live a life of normalcy and peace. you deserved that.
and now it was second nature. the fighting, the threats, the killing, the violence, and the ruthlessness that came with being married to kim hongjoong.
the others, bewildered by the fact that you even let him get away with sleeping with other women. often coming to you asking why you didn’t care, how you just brushed it off. to which you’d reply with, “we sleep in different rooms across the house. i could care less who he brings home”
and it usually got them to shut up.
but, it bother you. somewhere deep down, you wished he wouldn’t do it. but you figured he did it because he doesn’t love you.
hongjoong blatantly cheats in your presence. you personality, the quietness, the way you wouldn’t bat an eye when the woman he had in bed the previous night would waltz through the kitchen fumbling for her belongings. all while you sat at the table, sipping your morning beverage of choice.
he wanted to break through your icy exterior. no, he needed to.
hongjoong fails, though, since you always choose to ignore him.
"why aren’t you mad?" he questions, frowning.
looking up from the printed words on the paper, you find him sat in the leather chair in front of you.
your face doesn’t falter, you keep a calm and composed expression. finally speaking, “why would i be mad?” your tone is flat, not giving any indication as to your mood.
hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying you like he always does. his blond locks mussed, eyes half-lidded as he watched you flip through the pages of your novel.
the light coming through the window illuminated your side profile, his gaze darkened, his slender fingers tapping against his arm in irritation. your nonchalant attitude was beginning to make him agitated.
"because any self-respecting wife would be furious right now." he replied, eyes narrowing.
you say nothing at first, fixating your eyes back to the book nestled in your lap. your free hand reaches for the crystal glass to raise it to your lips.
you know hongjoong is fuming, absolutely raging but you don’t falter. “wife is a strong word considering we don’t even share a room” you begin, returning the glass to its original spot.
“let alone love each other.”
over the past year, you’ve learned how to get under his skin by being the way you were. you didn’t care much about how you affected him, you were simply just coexisting.
hongjoong didn’t know the nights that you’d cry yourself to sleep, mourning the life you used to have.
hongjoong's lip curled upward in a bitter smile, eyes flashing with annoyance. he pushed himself off the chair and walked over to where you were sitting, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards of the manor.
“a wife is a wife. regardless if we share a bed or not.”
he leaned against the polished oak table, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked onto you as he stared at you for a few moments.
"who says i don’t love you?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his tone.
you still refuse to meet his gaze. you could even list the times you actually looked him in the eyes on one hand.
you hear him let out a laugh, a scoff, whatever, and he shuffled a few steps away.
you look up, finally ripping your eyes away from the pages, you close the book and move it to the table.
you let out a breath of air, sounding more like a scoff. “are you serious right now?”
you lean back against the chair, watching him. how he stands there watching you, his hand crossed over his frame.
“i am.” he bites.
hongjoong was seething at the fact that you've gotten used to this, he had expected anger, jealousy, but he was met with.. nothing.
you begin to chew on the insides of your gums, trying to find the words. “i don’t care what sleaze you bring home, hongjoong. i really don’t” you finally spit.
hongjoongs expression hardened upon hearing your words. he didn't like that you didn't care, didn't like that you didn't react like every other woman would. it was infuriating, yet fascinating at the same time.
he slammed a hand flat against the table, causing the glassware on it to rattle. his jaw was set in a tight line, teeth clenched in irritation.
you flinch, clenching your jaw. you inhale sharply trying to ground yourself.
hongjoong continues, “you’re my goddamn wife. you’re supposed to care!” he snapped, his voice rising.
"you’re supposed to be jealous, angry, sad. not act like you don't give a damn."
you shake your head, looking away from him again. you purse your lips as his words ring in your head. “what do you want me to say?”
hongjoong leans in, his hands gripping the edge of the oak table with so much force that his buckles are turning white.
"why don't you care? don’t you have any self-respect? don’t you have any damn feelings for me? I'm your husband!"
his words spill out of him like an overflowing river all while he’s staring at you intently.
“hongjoong-“ you try to interject, closing your eyes and holding out your hand. but, hongjoong is quick to shut it down. “damnit, y/n, look at me!”
“i know you are!” you finally break, the palm of your hand slamming on the table. the nonchalant facade slowly slipping away.
“i’m reminded every fucking day!” you hold up hand, showing the gold band on your ring finger.
“of course i have feelings for you, hongjoong! i’ve been in love with you for damn near two years now!” she spits.
hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise as you yelled back at him. he was not expecting such a reaction, not from you, not ever. his grip on the table loosened as you continued to speak, your words sinking in.
“you... what?” he sputtered, his expression morphing from anger to shock.
his mind tried to process your words, struggling to wrap his head around the fact that you had been in love with him this entire time. be had cheated, he had disrespected you, and yet... you still felt something for him. it was mind-boggling and almost unreal.
you run you hands over your face taking in a deep breath to calm yourself but it doesn’t work. “i was robbed of everything. my life, my decisions, the way i live. all of it.” you can feel the burning sensation in your chest, crawling up to your throat and turning into a lump.
you had never cried in front him before, and you didn’t want to now.
“i don’t even have a wedding..” you sigh, feeling tears well in her eyes. “i don’t even have a proper ring.”
and then you mentioned not getting a ring. it was such a simple thing, but it felt like a knife stabbing through his heart. the realization that he had neglected you, that he had treated you as if you were nothing, hit him like a ton of bricks.
he had been so focused on himself, on his own needs, that he had completely disregarded your feelings. and now, he was faced with the consequences of his actions. “y/n” his voice is hoarse
you stop him, shaking your head. you can feel the embarrassment running you fingers through your hair and looks down at the table.
“i can’t do this..” you mutter under your breath, followed by a sniffle as tears fall from your eyes. “just forget i said anything.”
hongjoongs hand shoots out instinctively, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as you attempt to leave. he tugs you back, forcing you to stay where you are.
you try to push away, try ripping your wrist from his grasp but he’s much stronger than you.
his expression is a mix of shock and disbelief, his eyes glued to your tear-streaked face.
"how can i forget it? you’ve been in love with me this entire time?"
his grip on your wrist tightens, almost as if he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. his eyes dart across yous face, studying you like he always does.
"why didn't you say anything?“ he asks, his tone almost desperate. "you should have told me.”
you stifle a cry, looking up at him again. clutching to the book with one hand with every fiber in your being.
“stop.” you try to cut him off but it doesn’t work.
hongjoong continues, “you shouldn't have let me keep on with the cheating, on the treating you like crap... you should have said—"
he cuts himself off, his voice catching in his throat.
you chew on your bottom lip while he continues. shaking your head, you felt like she was at her breaking point.
when he finished speaking, you looked into his eyes for the first time. your bottom lip quivers but you quickly composed yourself.
“we didn’t even say vows, hongjoong.” you begin, balling your free hand into a fist.
as far as i was concerned, this marriage was written on a piece of paper by our fathers.” she frowned. “i don’t know what else you want me to say.”
hongjoongs heart clenches, the weight of your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. you were right. you didn't have a proper wedding, you didn't even get a ring. it was all a sham, a means to an end. a way to secure a partnership, nothing more.
“y/n..”
and yet, somehow, he had hoped that there was something there. he had longed for some semblance of a normal marriage, one where he could come home to you and hold you in his arms at night. “please..” he asks.
the mansion is quiet, you walk down the dimly lit halls to your bedroom. with a turn of the doorknob you’re met with the welcoming smell of your bedroom.
it was barely lit up, a few warm toned lamps by your bedside were the only thing on. you flipped the light switch and kick off your shoes.
you just returned from a two day mission with seonghwa, your feet ached, body bruised, your head was reeling with a leaving pain behind your temples.
trudging over to your bed you didn’t acknowledge the neatly wrapped box on your pillow at first. too preoccupied with cleaning up so you could get into bed.
you took off your earrings, tossing them into a jewelry plate before finally looking down at your gray bed sheets and that’s when you spotted it.
there’s a letter next to it, you unfold it to see just a few simple words.
“let’s start over”
then, you pick up the small box and open it to reveal and gold wedding ring. your breath got caught in your throat, staring at the piece of jewelry.
it was dainty, yet extravagant. obviously hongjoong must’ve spent a pretty penny on it. you carefully slip it out of its box and onto your finger, replacing the band you once had.
☾⋆｡ paring: boxer!noah sebastian x ballerina!fem!reader
‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙
summary: an ex ballerina finds herself wrapped in the opposite side of the life she imagined for herself. she had her life paved out since middle school, she had everything in favor for her and was on her way to new york. but when she had a career ending injury she has to rethink her career path and goes back to college to navigate her life in the city.
intrigued by the neighbor, she finds herself in a whirlwind of trouble.
noah sebastian, the neighbor in apartment 15b. a troubled man who was trying to fix his wrongdoings. growing up in the wrong crowd leads him to sixteen months in jail. he's on his way to clean up his act and get right with his life, but when old friends and habits return, he's back where he started.
boxing started as a way of keeping fit, but then it turned into more than just that. it became addictive, he was good at it and it was clear. he never lost a match.
but what happens when he finds out there's more than just boxing? what if his past haunts him? what if he discovers that maybe, just maybe that the girl in apartment 14B could save him?
*CONTENT WARNING: swearing, violence, crimes, abuse, blood, gore, etc. the themes in this book are pure fiction and made up. this book does not represent the members of bad omens, palaye royale, or black veil brides in anyway shape or form.
*BEFORE YOU READ: i am not a medical professional, i do not know all the terms for boxing or dancing. i am sure there will be some inaccuracies so please disregard them.
prologue • character introductions • one: the diner. • two: a total gentleman. • three: making it homey • four: the recital • five: petsitting • six : the argument. seven: a call for help
based on this request: Requesting one, where Tyler and his crew chasing the tornado as casual but there's a twist (it can be a happy or angst ending) what if the tornado they chase was heading to where reader lives, today he was planning on asking her to move on with him after they finished another successful on making the tornado gone yet when he noticed where it was going he drives faster and trying to outrun the tornado.
warnings: descriptions of tornadoes, reader loses her house, blood, cuts.
“shes a pistol, ty. hope you can handle her” javier begins, removing his sunnies and leans against his white truck while looking at tyler across the driveway of your mothers house.
tyler smiles to himself at the mention of you. he looks in his wallet, a picture of you and him at a rodeo. you’re wearing his red flannel and white cowboy hat as you kiss his cheek.
a picture he treasured most. no one knew about this picture in his wallet. it was his own little secret, you didn’t even know he had the polaroid.
tyler and you both majored in meteorology throughout your time in college. storm chasers had a limited dating pool. nobody was willing to chase after these monstrous storms in such a way and then return to laugh about it over a few beers.
that’s why he took such a liking to you.
tyler didn't try to hide his feelings first. he would constantly try to convince you to go out with him or do something else, but you would never accept his advances. you didn't believe that you could put up with his ego.
till you began chasing with him.
since then, you saw a side of him that you didn’t know. tyler was a kind hearted man, caring for the people that fell victim to these storms. he was so intelligent that it made you rethink your own decisions, that was rare.
before you knew it, you started falling for tyler owens. the rest is history.
“i’m thinkin bout asking her to move in with me after we get this storm tonight.” tyler confesses to javier, a sly smirk on his face. javier’s eyebrows raise, cocking his hip to the side and crossing his arms.
“you think she’ll say yes?”
tyler presses his lips into a thin smile, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket where it belongs. “i hope so.” he answers, looking up towards the house.
tyler had decided it was time to take the next step with you. he had been thinking about asking you to move in with him for a while now, and he was sure it was the right decision.
he loved you deeply and couldn’t imagine his life without you. he wanted to wake up next to you every morning, cook breakfast together, and spend evenings cuddled up on the couch watching movies.
the thought of you living together filled him with excitement and joy, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when he popped the question.
“guys!” lilly hollers, exiting the rv, running towards the pair. “we have huge activity southeast. we gotta move, now!”
there’s a tension that settled in over the group as they all scrambled to get their things together and radars ready.
tyler’s first thought was you. he takes off, boots stomping in the puddles as he swings the screen door open.
“y/n?” he hollers, taking his sunglasses off.
“up here!” you answer, drying your hair after a shower.
you watch in the mirror as tyler appears in the doorway, “whats up?” you ask, dropping your hand by your sides. “there’s one southeast. big one.” he’s almost grinning hoping to get you excited but his smile drops when you don’t react.
there’s a silence as you begin to rake product through the ends of your hair. “cmon, we don’t wanna miss it. lilly says it’ll touch down in an hour at least.”
“m’not goin” you reply, looking into his eyes from the mirror. “what? whaddya mean?”
“it’s mom” you answer, followed by a sigh. “she’s doing bad again, she’s freaking out over it and i’m just gonna stay with her. the house isn’t in the path so it should be fine” you say, turning to him.
you can see a soft frown on his lips as he looks down at you, “we always chase together.”
you smile sadly, and nod. you let your hand come up and caress his cheek. “i know, darlin. we’ll get the next one i promise.”
you press a quick kiss on his lips, “be safe, baby.” he replies, kissing the top of your head and heading off with the crew.
the atmosphere was thick and heavy with a sense of impending doom as the tornado began to take shape. the clouds churned and wracked, twisting into a massive, menacing funnel cloud. the noise was deafening, a high-pitched roar that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
gusts of wind howled like a beast, tearing at anything in their path. this was no ordinary twister; this was an EF5, the most powerful and destructive tornado there was. it loomed on the horizon, a sinister harbinger of disaster.
tyler, now chasing the storm, was strapped into his well-worn red dodge. his eyes fixed on the churning sky as he chased a massive storm through the southeast landscapes. his truck was a trusted companion, having borne him through countless weather events.
its engine roared confidently as tyler navigated the treacherous terrain, seeking the perfect position to observe the storm up close and capture its raw power. he was fueled by a deep passion for the spectacle of the weather and driven by the adrenalin rush of being in the heart of the swirling chaos.
“you seein this, T?!” boone hollers from the passenger seat. “i’m seein it boone!” he yells back, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
tyler doesn’t remove his eyes from the storm raging in the wheat field, but something feels off. something isn’t right.
“what is it, ty?” javier calls over the radio noticing his decreasing speed. tyler is too mesmerized by the black clouds, he doesn’t reply. “T?” boone calls.
“something’s wrong.” he mumbles, “the path..the path is changing!” he says hurriedly watching the surroundings.
lilly pipes from the backseat, “its moving northwest! heading straight for mayberry!”
“shit.” tyler hits his steering wheel before making a sharp turn, turning around.
“the path is shifting!” boone alerts over the radio.
tyler’s heart launched in his chest watching the twister hurtling towards the small town where you lived. he’d often worried about this, and now his worst nightmare was unfolding before his eyes.
his grip tightened on the steering wheel, and his eyes darkened as he gunned the engine, pushing the red dodge to its limits. he had to get to you, had to make sure you were safe. his mind raced as he calculated how much time he had, the seconds ticking away in an excruciating countdown.
there was no warning, the storm was moving too unpredictably. you should’ve monitored it closer, you should’ve been more prepared.
the house trembled violently as the tornado tore through the neighborhood.
the windows shattered, spraying glass everywhere. the walls creaked and groaned, buckling under the immense pressure of the onslaught.
pictures fell from the walls, their frames splattering on the floor. furniture was hurled around like toys, breaking apart as it smashed into the remaining walls.
“mom!” you holler, staying low to the ground reaching out for her. she takes your hand and you pull her close to your body.
“hold on tight!” you scream.
the two of you huddled together, their screams blending into the cacophony, their eyes wide with terror. outside, the world had become a blur of debris and chaos, the swirling vortex ripping everything apart in its path.
tyler stepped out of his truck followed by boone and lilly. his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he saw the destruction hoping beyond hope that she was safe. but the sight that greeted him was a nightmare. your once-cheerful home had been reduced to a pile of rubble, the remnants of your life scattered among the wreckage. the tornado had ripped through the property, leaving destruction in its wake.
the property wasn’t recognizable, the only way he knew it was your home was your white jeep wrapped around the willow tree.
tyler’s hands come up and run thorough his hair, “oh god..” he breathes. “jesus christ..” boone says just above a whisper.
tyler can’t let his emotions get the best of him. he needed to find you.
“y/n!” he hollers.
“y/n!” lilly screams. “ms.l/n” boone calls for your mom.
tyler pushes his way through the debris, his eyes scanning the rubble for any sign of you.
he continued to pulled lumber, pillars, glass and furniture for what felt like hours. “y/n!” his heart thudding against his chest with every moment that passed. panic clawed at his gut as he continued his desperate search.
finally, he heard a faint sound, like a whimper. he turned, and there you were, buried under a pile of rubble.
his breath caught in his throat as he carefully dug you out, his hands trembling.
as your face came into view, it was smeared with dirt and blood, but your eyes widened with relief as you saw him. “t?” you rasp.
he gently picked you up, cradling you against him like a fragile doll.
"i'm here," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "im here, and you're going to be okay."
you wince, standing on the unstable ground. “mom..” you croak, tears brimming down your eyes again. “she’s down there..”
tyler nods, he looks back at boone and was about to go down and search for her but boone stops him. “i got her.”
boone disappears in the pile of rubble, then he emerges with your mother in his arms. “we need an ambulance!”
tyler nods and leaves you with lilly to call for first responders.
“‘m fine, t.” you say, say in the back of the ambulance. “just makin sure..” he whispered taking your arm in his hands and scanning your skin. he needed to make sure you weren’t seriously injured, even though you were just checked out by ems.
“t..” you sighs as he continues, his hand snow on either side of your face moving your head around still checking. “tyler.” you call him again, this time your hands gripping his wrists.
his eyes meet yours, the sign of tears still staining your cheeks. “i’m okay, i promise” you assure, smiling. “jus glad you made it to me, how’d you know?”
tyler shrugs, “the wind started morning north, learned it from you.” he answers, coming to your side and pulling you in.
you stay there for a while, the sirens flooding your ears and the lights illuminating the place where your home once stood. tyler rubs your shoulders and pulls the emergency blanket tighter around your body.
you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. “is now a bad time to ask if you want to live with me?” he looks down at you.
“what?” you look up at him.
and maybe it wasn’t the right time, but he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to ask you.
“live with me. hell, bring your mom. i don’t care, just..” he reaches for your hand. “i just know that i love you and i want you around even more than you already are.” he laughs lightly, continuing to rub your shoulder.
“i would love to live with you.”
tyler smiles proudly, squeezing you closer to his side.
based on this request: “Omg, how about Tyler Owens comforting reader on their first storm chase, maybe she’s really nervous or scared and he’s like don’t worry I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you… something like that???”
warnings: depictions of a tornado, reader has a panic attack. severe damage to homes and buildings.
w/c: 1.7k
a/n: thank you for the request! i added a touch of a backstory to help the plot go forward. i hope that’s okay!! i’m also currently in the theater about to watch it again (i saw it last night lol) enjoy <3
you see a man standing in a wide-open field, as the sky above you darkened to a menacing shade of gray. the once-gentle breeze turns into a fierce, howling wind, and you feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.
you were assigned to follow him and his crew around while they chased these monstrous tornadoes then went in and dissolved the threat. you worked for a huge journaling company from the north, but you grew up in arkansas and became familiar with these devastating weather patterns.
now, you were in oklahoma where you’d be joining this storm chaser during a week-long chase.
“you ready to chase some storms?” his back was still towards you, and his southern drawl was familiar.
as the man in the maroon shirt and white cowboy hat, spun on his heels to face you, you were taken aback.
tyler owens.
“y/n?”
his blood ran cold, not expecting to see you after all of these years. you laughed in disbelief, “this is crazy..” you shook your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg.
“you’re the journalist?”
you and tyler go way back. the two of you were in school together, majoring in meteorology.he started chasing these storms, becoming famous on campus.
but, it all came to a head one day when you got trapped and lost your best friend. that’s when you dropped meteorology and took up journalism. you documented the destruction, the path, how they moved, etc.
and now, you were writing about who was called the tornado wrangler. you should’ve done your research but you didn’t want the assignment.
but, he had become so popular with his crew. they’d go inside the twisters and release a mixture to help dissolve the storm. and it worked.
“you’re the wrangler?” you ask, and tyler laughs. that signature laugh that always made you want to punch him in his pretty little face.
tyler turns around and rests his hands on his hips. “what do you see?”
the wind picks up even further, swirling around you in a dizzying dance, pulling at your clothes and hair. you sigh, taking a few steps closer till you are standing next to him.
“there” you point to the east, the air was thick with an unsettling hum as a dark mass loomed on the horizon. the skies darkened further, and a chilling gust of wind whipped up debris and sent trees bending at unnatural angles.
"another one" he murmured, eyes locked on the clouds as his adrenaline spiked and his lips pulled into a smile that he couldn't help but wear every time a storm was brewing.
glancing over at you he tried to hide the excitement in his chest that he felt when one appeared, but tyler knew hiding your feelings from another storm chaser was like trying to hide a tornado in an open field.
"how much do you wanna bet it'll touch down two miles east of our position" he teased, eyes scanning the clouds for clues.
“mm” you shake your head, even though you hadn’t done it in years you still had it. “three.” you continue, then point to the wind and how it carries against the wheat field.
“look at the way the wind is carrying. it’ll go east and hit north. perfect conditions,” you add crossing your arms
“i think you have yourself a ef5.”
uou had it. the intuition to tell where a storm was going to go by only looking at the clouds, the way the winds were blowing, and the speed at which the storm moved.
tyler had a similar gift, every storm chaser had it, but he had never met someone who could predict the size of a storm, which was a rarity he had never seen before.
“ah EF5, huh? i’ll hold you to that. If you’re wrong, you’re buying me a beer.”
tyler owens would be the death of you.
“i’m not buying you anything, owens.”
you load up into his truck, snapping pictures of forming a storm. he was flooring the red truck in a wheat field right towards the storm so he could get ahead of it.
“ya miss it?” he yells, over the thunder. occasionally turning his head to look at you. you say nothing, continuing to snap pictures.
“sometimes.” you blurt, not looking back at him. “i just don’t miss the destruction” you continue, rolling up the window and reviewing the photos.
“you were good,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes still taking glances at you. “mm” you just hum in response, not wanting to talk about your storm chasing days.
suddenly, a funnel begins to descend from the clouds, growing larger and more ominous by the second. the air around you crackles with anticipation, and you realize that you are witnessing the terrifying formation of a tornado. an EF5.
this was the second time you had ever seen an EF5 form in front of you, this was frightening.
you held onto your camera tightly as tyler drove right towards the black abyss. “shit..” you mumble quietly.
as the rain beat down on the windshield, the engine's roar could hardly be heard above the gathering storm.
tyler's truck sped through the wide-open fields, creating a trail of dirt and dust in their wake. with his eyes locked on the approaching storm, he clinched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel firmly like a man about to die.
he had chased tornadoes before, but never an EF5. the adrenaline in his veins was making his heart race and his senses heighten as he pushed the truck to drive faster, the roar of the wind and thunder in their ears.
“what a beauty” he muttered, admiring the sheer force and size of the storm in front of them.
as your heart pounded furiously in your chest, you felt a sudden tightening of the breath in your lungs.
your mind raced with panicked thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. you fought to stay calm, but the fear was overwhelming, like a living entity trying to consume you whole.
sweat beaded on your forehead, and your hands trembled as you held the camera. the world around them seemed to blur and spin out of control, like the tornado in front of them.
"tyler, we should go back," you yelled. tyler smiled, eyes fixed on the whirling green giant in front of him.
he yells, "not a chance, l/n. look at it!" as he maneuvers through the difficult terrain. “we can’t give up now!”
“stop!” you proceeded to yell, flashes of that night you lost your best friend. the way the sky looked, how it sounded, the rain on your skin, how cold you were. it was all flashing in front of you, experiencing the whole thing again.
tears brim your eyes, your body shaking like a leaf. “please! just stop!” you yell over the growl of the thunder clapping.
tyler’s heart sank to his stomach as he heard the raw emotion in your voice. he had teased you and challenged uou, but now it was clear that this was not just another storm for you.
it was a personal struggle that was tearing you apart and he had triggered it with his arrogance.
without a word, he stomped on the brakes and brought the truck to a screeching halt, his own heart racing against his ribs.
"y/n, look at me," he said, voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.
you’re gasping for air, pulling at the collar of your crewneck. the cab of the truck felt like it was closing in on you, you unbuckled the seat belt and tried to unlock the door. “i can’t do this” your bottom lip begins to quiver. “i have to..i gotta get out of here.”
you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. your mind is fogged with the traumatic experience of the last time you were caught in the eye of a storm like this.
tyler’s heart dropped as he saw you struggling, your gasping breaths and trembling body. he reached over to her, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from opening the door of the truck.
“hey, hey, whoa. look at me, look at me, please.” he pleaded, his voice firm but surprisingly gentle.
he reached out and took your chin, gently turning your head to face him. his eyes searched yours for a moment before narrowing in concern.
“y/n, listen to me. you need to breathe, sweetheart.”
your breathless, unable to think straight until your eyes meet his sea green orbs. you take in a deep breath and mirror tyler’s breathing.
inhale, exhale.
you repeated this until you eventually calmed down.
your hands continue to tremble as you speak, “tyler, i cannot do this. i just can’t.” hour southern drawl escaping. “it’s too much”
tyler watched as your rapid breathing slowly began to match his own, your hand gripping his tightly. his heart ached as he saw the fear and the anguish in your eyes, and knew that this was not just a simple fear of storms.
it was a trauma, something deeply personal, that had left a permanent mark on your soul.
he gently raised his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you. “i know, i know” he whispered, his own tone gentle and soft.
“ain’t nothin gonna happen to you, kay? i won’t let it.” he assures your worries, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eyes then tucked some hair behind your ear.
“i’ve got you.” he continues. you watch as his attention goes from you to the tornado in front of you. “if you want me to take you back i need to know, now” he says, looking back at you.
you sniffle, following his gaze to the twister.
if he could stop something like this it would be a huge achievement to the community. no more damage, no more homelessness. it would all be fixed.
“no..” you begin, and find your eyes back on him. “i’ll be fine.”
tyler nods, putting the truck into drive. one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching for yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll be fine, city girl.”
you choke out a laugh, and shake your head.
“then, let’s chase this beaut!” he yips and slams his foot on the gas and takes off towards the monster of a tower.
summary: you surprise noah with a cake on his birthday!
warnings: none! kinda suggestive at the end but nothing explicit at all.
a/n: happy birthday noah!!! i wrote this in like thirty minutes oops. so, it probably sucks. anyways, enjoy!!! also chapter two of bad decisions will be posted later so check back for it!!!
the kitchen hummed quiet with life, you stood at the island with your cat, mickey, at your feet. tail swishing as he looks up at you with curious eyes.
the light from the stovetop whirring quietly, reminding you of why you were up anyways.
you had snuck out of your boyfriends arms, leaving him drowning in the pile of comforters and pillows on your shared bed.
you laugh as mickey mews, rubbing against your leg before jerking up on his hind legs trying to reach you. “mick, no” you whisper giggle. “this is for dad” you beam. “y’can’t have it”. he meows in protest again, scratching at the counter before finally giving up.
it was only a few minutes before midnight, you were trying your best to ice the cake you had whipped together. your hands sticky with icing in attempts to write out “happy birthday!”. however, you attempt looked like chicken scratch.
you heard quiet shuffling coming from your hallway followed by mumbling. you’re quick to look over your shoulder, seeing noah emerge from the hallway. hair wild from sleep.
“babe?” he murmured as he rubbed his eyes while walking toward you. “what are you doing up? it’s late” he asked, coming by your side.
“no! stay there!” you hold out your hand covered in black icing, shewing him back.
he stumbles over his own feet, mumbling something incoherent. mickey now turns his attention from you towards the taller man. squeaking a meow to noah. “hey lil’guy” he’d murmur, bending down to scratch behind his ears.
“the hell are you doing?” he huffed, “i kept reaching for you”
you laughed. “i was coming right back”. you cap the tube icing, letting it lay on the marbled counter.
“it’s midnight, babe.” his voice rang through the night air. it was rough, gravely, and obvious he was still half asleep.
“i know..” you couldn’t help the soft giggle as you place two candles in the cake, lighting them with ease.
“then come back to bed” he reaches for your waist, tugging at your sleep shirt until you’re spinning on your heels holding the cake out to him.
“happy birthday noah!!” you grin, the flickering light of the candles casting light on your face.
noah pauses as you turn around. his hand his still lightly hovering over your side, eyes narrowing on the lit candles. his eyes betray him, the dancing flame sparkles in his eyes before his gaze finally lands on you. “what?” is all he could mutter.
you push the cake closer to him, “happy birthday, noah” you repeat, a little quieter this time. “go on”
a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as you say the words again. “god..” he laughs in utter disbelief. then, he inhales and blows out the candles leaving a trail of smoke in their wake.
“y’were up doin that? for me?” he asks, hand now making contact with your side as you put the cake back on the counter. “mhm” you nod.
you move to drape your arms around his neck, smiling big to make your cheeks hurt. “of course”
noah grinned, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss.
the kiss was soft, gentle, a reassuring reminder that he was yours. his love for you never wavered, you were the one and he knew it.
because, who else would be up at midnight making a cake for him?
pulling away from the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours he begins swaying back around the kitchen. one hand still finding home on your waist, the other cupping the side of your face.
“didn’t think you were the dancing type” you teased letting your fingers run through the hair on his neck.
he says nothing at first, only humming against the skin below your ear. “m’not” he’d answer.
the two of you stayed like that, swaying back and forth with quiet, almost inaudible humming from noah. you rested your head on his shoulder. moments like this, you cherished more than extravagant dates or gifts. just you, just him.
you let yourself press a few kisses to his bare shoulder, closing your eyes as you continue going around in small circles underneath the light from the stove top.
noah lifts his head from the dip of your neck, standing straight. he looks down at you, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
“i love you, y/n” he said, eyes boring into yours.
“i love you, noah” you’d reply. hands splayed on his back, rubbing soothing circles on his skin.
“i mean it. what did i do to deserve you?” he said, staring into your eyes. you knew he loved you, even if it was never said explicitly. you saw it in the small gestures he did daily. cute texts, remembering when you needed something, letting you sleep on his chest after a long day at work, hand on your lower back as he lead you through crowds.
yet, when he said it to you in a moment like this, you could cry. “stop” you smiles, simply shaking your head.
“no” he smiles, brushing his nose against yours again. “i’ll never stop loving you.” his voice was soft like a sunrise.
even after all this time, he still gave you butterflies.
noah moves before you can say anything, kissing you again. this time it’s passionate, fast, sweet, and fierce. he hooks his arms around your legs picking you up with ease.
you yelp, immediately gripping onto his arms. “noah!” you shriek.
“s’okay, i got you” he says, pressing a kiss to your collar bone while sauntering back to your shared bedroom.
“the cake!” you suppress a laugh, tightening your grip around his tattooed skin.
“s’fine. it’ll be there later” his tone drops the further down the hall you get. his eyes half lidded as he looks at you. “i just want you”
