Pairings: Jack Abbot x Ex!Reader
Summary: Waking up in the hospital after your accident has you debating everything about Jack. You couldn’t forgive him, could you?
Warnings: insecure!reader, Major Injury, HEAVY Angst (no happy ending), infidelity/cheating (CHEATING IS NOT OKAY), OOC Jack, OOC Samira, pathetic!jack, second wife!Reader, SAHW!reader, AGE GAP (reader is in late 20’s and Jack is in late 40’s)
WC:1.3k
a/n: honestly i started writing this right after posting too. I tried getting this out sooner but was super busy last night so this morninn will have to do. I really appreciate all your support and hope you enjoy the story and its ending!1! :D
Slowly fluttering your eyes open, you’re met by the brightest light known to man, and pain all over your body. Trying to move your arms shoots a sharp, searing pain up your body, that has you whimpering and tensing up, your jaw clenched so tight you think you might crack your teeth.
You blink rapidly, attempting to get your eyes to focus. You look around and notice the empty hospital room engulfing you.
“F-Fuck.” Your breath hitching as you look down at yourself, tearing up at the sight. You were covered in bruises and scratches, your leg wrapped tightly with some dressing, and your right arm in a sling. You move your less affected arm towards your face and head, wincing at the soreness and pain.
There’s a lingering pain somewhere deep in you though, one that hurts worse than any physical injury you have. Reaching for your chest now, your hand bunching up the hospital gown right above your heart.
God, the world is cruel. You lie here broken in more ways than one, and the man who had sworn ‘till death do us part’ is freely walking after breaking every promise.
It truly had come out of nowhere. He was so loving, practically kissing the ground you walked on. The love you shared felt like a fairy tale, everything was perfect, even your arguments.
But you just weren’t her.
And that was forever going to haunt you. I mean, fuck, you see it, you understand it. She’s amazing. What she’s achieved in life and how she carries herself, she was always someone you looked up to. Her betrayal hurts just as much as his.
The door creaking open rips you from your thoughts, seeing the nurse peek through. “Oh, perfect, you’re up, Mrs.Abbot.” You flinch at the name, wincing slightly. She notices and quickly rushes over to examine you, concern etched across her face. She asks how your feeling, and you give her the rundown on how you’re physically feeling.
“Is everybody in the ambulance okay?” Suddenly remembering that other people were involved “Everyone else got away scot-free. You, on the other hand, had no seatbelt on.” She starts typing on her laptop. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you got away with a broken bone, some other minor injuries, and nothing else. You went through your windshield, but you’re lucky your husband was there, he brought you in and was the one who worked on you.” You scoff. That’s definitely not the word to describe it. “lucky”
Unable to contain your disdain, you spit out “ex-husband,” and she gives you a knowing, sad smile. News must travel fast in here, which makes something bubble up in your stomach. You can’t stand another second in this hospital right now.
“I need some air, please.” You plead, and she starts shaking her head. “You won’t be able to walk, but even if you could, it isn’t a good idea. Sweetheart you need to rest.” You sit up, hiding the abrupt pain in your chest when you do.
“I just need some air. Let me try and get up, and if I’m not able to walk, I’ll lie back down.” You’re begging, “I promise,” and she lets out a sigh, giving in. You know she pities you, but you couldn’t care less at this point.
She helps you get up, and you bite down, doing your best not to reveal the severe pain. Every step was like a knife stabbing you, over and over again. It was awful.
As you get to the elevator, it dings and opens to reveal the person you were trying to escape. Tears flood your vision as Jack rushes to you. “Baby, oh my god.” his voice cracked.
He was at your side, gently pulling you in for a hug, avoiding the IV. The touch making you whimper, your pain now unbearable. Maybe it was the drugs, but you melted into his touch, your body betraying you.
“Thank you so much, I’ll take it from here.” You could feel him shaking. He was crying, your tears mixing as he rested his forehead on yours. You let out a shaky breath, unable to move, unable to beg the nurse to stay as she walked away. He was like a fucking vampire, draining the life and energy out of you.
You remained in his chest, breathing him in, trying to remember the scent he left in your bed, but all you could smell was Samira.
The smell bringing you back to reality, making you retreat from him slowly, your eyes away from him. “Take me home, Jack.” you spit out.
You wanted to leave, but you physically couldn’t. Jack had taken two weeks off to nurse you back to health. It was miserable, you were stuck. You had no family here, nowhere to crash, and your fucking car was gone.
Those two weeks did something to you. You barely spoke to Jack, but he was always there, and you hated it. He was constantly pleading with you, trying to explain why he did what he did. Constantly whispering sweet nothings and how much he loved you, but you didn’t budge.
Although your body was constantly betraying you. The first few nights, you had forced him into the guest room, but on a day that you were extra vulnerable, he had managed to sneak himself in, and you relished in his warmth, allowing him to sleep in your bed from then on out.
Then the showers, god they were the worst. You didn’t want him to see you naked, but he had to help, and when he did, you’d lean into his touch, borderline moaning at it. There was a huge part of you that missed him, and your life before you found out. So you couldn't help it.
And that was exactly why you were packing your bags the night he went back to work. You couldn’t give in, so you had to leave.
While he was taking care of you, you had been messaging your mother and sister, and they had begged you to come back. Knowing it was what was best for you, you decided you would. Leaving your wedding ring on your bed, waiting for him.
There was no excuse for what he did. You two had an amazing life, it was practically perfect. Yet he still slept with another woman— your closest friend. He thinks maybe it was the thrill, maybe it was the excitement of getting caught, but that made him recoil at himself. He was a weak man.
“I don’t think she’s ever gonna forgive me.” Jack sighs into the phone, sitting at the longest red light known to man. “Jack, I don’t know any woman who would.” He knows Robby’s right, but I mean, what was he supposed to do? Let you go without fighting?
After a long moment of silence, Jack speaks again, “Alright man, I’m almost home. I’ll see you later tonight.” As he turns into his driveway, something twists in his stomach. The guilt was eating away at him and taking a toll on him mentally, and physically, but what you were going through was so much worse, he had to stay strong.
Walking into the house, he immediately started heading towards the bedroom, needing to see your face, craving you. Only to be met with an empty, neat room.
He spots the glint of the ring on your shared bed and immediately runs over, almost tripping over himself. Picking it up he feels his tears finally begin to fall.
He drops to his knees, his hand holding the ring over his heart. It was a miracle he had met you all those years ago. He didn’t think he would find love again after his wife, but you proved him wrong. You were perfect, and he fell for you instantly, but now none of that mattered.
You were gone.
a/n: and he got exactly what he deserved! honestly i was gonna go the route where she dies but she doesnt deserve thattt. i kinda put her through hell tho... oops :D no but i really do hope yall enjoyed this is def the last part i really wanted to do a short angsty oneshot so i think it was the perfect way to end it. I appreciate your support tho theres def more stories coming!!
Tags: cheating/infidelity, use of fingers for foreplay, hair pulling, light spanking, dominance, aggression, praise kink, choking, biting, oral sex, ‘doggy style’, penetrative/vaginal sex
Word Count: 1.6k
Y/n looked to the right, taking in the views of the clear water below, breathing in the salty air, and listening to the waves crashing against the bridge that leads upward to the Dragonstone castle. She closed her eyes, letting her senses be overwhelmed by the sea when she heard familiar footsteps approaching.
“Daemon” she greeted, her eyes still closed.
“Y/n”
“You don’t sound excited to see me” she quipped.
“Forgive me if I don’t feel up to the coming weeks of torture”
That got Y/n to open her eyes.
“Torture?” She cocked her head to the side.
“I think being endlessly tempted by my wife’s infuriatingly gorgeous cunt of a sister counts as torture yes”
“What a way with words you have Daemon” she chuffed, “You certainly know how to please a lady”
“You mock me now” he growled, his eyes slits, before leaning in to whisper in her ear, “But do not doubt my ability to please…”
~ 3 days later ~
Light footsteps tread carefully behind Y/n as she stared out at the sea from the war room in Dragonstone. Over the last few days, the space, with its incredible view, had become one of her favourite hideaways.
“You’ve got to stop trying to sneak up on me Daemon” Y/n breathed haughtily, “You know my ears are sharper than yours”
A hand caressed her waist, causing her to turn around and face him.
“What if I just want to be around you?” He countered with a dangerous look in his eye, “Would that be such a crime?”
“Daemon…” she hesitated, placing a hand on his chest, stopping him from coming any closer.
His face softened and he moved back, letting her hand drop from his warm chest to her side.
“If you don’t want me to, say it and I will leave you to your thoughts and the waves”
“I do want you” she whispered, a gentle confession, her eyes flitting up to meet his gaze, “You’re all I’ve ever wanted”
Daemon slid his hands down the sides of her body in an instant, gripping her thighs under the lightweight fabric of her gown, and picking her up. Her lips crashed down onto his as he moved them to the war table, placing her on the hard edge. His hands slid lower, grazing her ass and pressing his chest down onto hers.
“Won’t Mysaria mind My Prince?” She questioned, out of breath between kisses.
He gripped her flesh tighter, “She won’t mind what she’ll never know”
Daemon’s kisses were intoxicating, truly like a poison, the kind that kills you so slowly that you don’t realize something is wrong until it is too late. As their lips found each other again and again, Daemon’s hands wandered lower, gently skimming the skin above her cunt.
“My love” he murmured, “Please tell me I can…”
“Yes” she replied instantly, cutting him off, “Yes, Daemon please”
Breaking away from her lips, he looked her right in the eye as he pulled down her undergarments and connected his calloused fingers to her clit. He began flicking it at an achingly slow pace, making her back arch and her breath hitch in her throat.
“Mmm,” she moaned quietly.
She whimpered, sensitivity shocking through her as she rocked against his palm. Her hips bucked, almost involuntarily, endlessly pleased by his slow, teasing fingers.
“You like that?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.
“Uh-huh” she breathed, her voice a low whine.
“Uh-huh?”
The look in his eyes was practically monstrous, like the blood of the dragon was boiling within him.
“Yes” she amended quickly, “Yes, My Prince”
“That’s better love” he grinned, his smile a smooth curve, before adding in a low voice, “You know I like it when you use your words for me”
As Daemon continued rubbing the pads of his fingers around and around her needy clit, Y/n felt like she could barely breathe. She cried out, feeling herself throbbing more and more with every minute that he touched her. Licking his bottom lip, he looked up at her with cocky, glazed-over eyes, before staring down at her wet cunt.
“Tell me Y/n…when you’re wet and ready for my cock” he groaned, “I need to hear you say it”
“Daemon please” she begged, “I need you in me…”
“Fuck” He leaned back, exposing his long neck to her and sucking in a sharp breath, “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it love or I won’t be able to control myself”
She grabbed his hand and pulled it further down, above her wet cunt, “Touch me, touch me and you’ll see that I mean what I say”
Daemon curled his palm downward, cupping her roughly without breaking eye contact before gliding a finger over her hole.
“Fuck, you’re soaking” he practically growled, his voice dark with lust.
Daemon rubbed his hand over her slit again and again like a man possessed, like he was drunk on the feeling of how her wetness coated his long fingers.
“Turn around” he then commanded.
Y/n turned, gasping as she felt his hard cock pressed up against her ass from behind. She bent over, reaching back and spreading her ass cheeks for him, giving Daemon the access they both craved.
“Gods” he groaned through gritted teeth, running his hand down her spine, making her shiver, “You’re so good for me love, do you want my cock in you?”
She grabbed at him, pulling him even closer, her voice a quiet breath, “Please”
Daemon teased her hole until his tip was glazed with a layer of her wetness. Y/n gasped then, as he shoved his entire shaft into her without warning. Her back arched and her body tensed, tightening around him instantly.
“Ahhh” she moaned.
He spanked her ass, twice for good measure, before beginning to thrust…and Gods did it feel good. When Daemon fucked someone he fucked them deep and he fucked them hard.
“Harder” she begged.
And he complied, tightly gripping her hair in his rough palms, making her back arch even more as he pounded her like he hated her guts. Her breathing was becoming ragged but it almost stopped altogether when Daemon squeezed his sturdy hand around her neck, pulling her upward so that her front was pressed to his taut chest.
“You know how hard you make things for me Y/n?” he groaned in her ear as he fucked her, the sound of their skin slapping echoing around the room, “You’ve been here for three days and as each one passed it's been harder and harder for me to resist you”
Y/n whimpered, gasping and overwhelmed as Dameon slid his other hand down to her clit, rubbing familiar circles around it, adding to her pleasure.
“Do you know how difficult it is for me to see you walking around my castle, huh? To see you at every meal sitting beside my wife, your sister, when all I want is you? If I had it my way you’d be bent over for me every day until you leave”
Daemon flipped her around and in an instant, her chest was flush with his, their faces inches apart. He caressed her cheek gently with his thumb before sliding it down toward her mouth.
“Open”
She obeyed, allowing him to slip his finger past her raw lips and into her mouth. She flicked it lightly with the tip of her tongue before fully sucking on it. Daemon smiled down at her, pleased by her obedience.
“Yes, good girl,” he said, sliding back into her roughly, making her gasp again at the feeling of his length. But he kept still, not yet thrusting.
“Beg for it”
“Daemon” she breathed, squeezing around him, desperate to cum, “Daemon, Daemon, please”
His eyes rolled back, enjoying the feeling of her wrapped around his hard cock. When he pulled back out of her and then began to thrust again, he had to grip one of her hips tightly so that he didn’t cum right then and there.
“Oh yes,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.
Soon, Y/n felt a tightness spreading across her chest and a warmth pooling in her cunt.
“Are you going to cum for me, my love?” He cooed, adding when she tightened even more around him, “Yes, yes, cum on this cock, use my cock and cum for me”
“Fuck” she cried out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers on her clit and his cock stuffing her perfectly.
She bit down on to his jaw, attempting to muffle her own moans as they got louder and louder, reverberating off of the cave-like ceiling of the war room. He thrust harder with each second that passed, pumping in and out of her at an impossible pace.
“Daem—oh—Gods you’re fucking me so good”
Y/n shivered as she came, the waves of her orgasm overwhelming her. Daemon held her upright, never once stopping his fingers on her clit. She cried out, her back arching and cunt tightening even more when she felt his cum splashing inside her.
“Yes” he groaned, resting his forehead on hers, “So good for me, so perfect, mmm”
She laughed breathily when they finally finished, kissing his jaw where she had just bitten it, reviewing the small mark she’d accidentally made.
“You’re going to have to cover that somehow, you know”
“Or I could let everyone see it…”
“And let those in court know, let my sister know you’ve been unfaithful?”
Daemon kissed her lightly, caressing her sides as he did.
“I’m not ashamed of you Y/n” he stated, pushing her sweaty hair back from her face, “Nor will I ever be”
She looked up at him, her cheeks still flushed and breathed in how the salty air of the sea mixed with Daemon’s musk, creating the perfect scent.
summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…
genre: angst, drama, choose your own adventure,
content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex
soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé
a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure). This is one of the endings, if you want to read from the beginning, start here.
word count: 871
Choose Him
When Namjoon wakes up the next morning–you’re not by his side.
It was just a little after dawn. The sun finally peaked its head out from around the clouds, stretching across your home in vanilla sunlight.
At first, Namjoon is too tired to comprehend what it means to not feel your warmth pressed up against him. But as soon as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he realized he was waking from a dream into a nightmare.
Namjoon was so overwhelmed with grief for the loss of his marriage, for the loss of you, he didn't hear the click of the front door opening, or see the look on your face when you finally, finally came home.
You opened the bedroom door to find Namjoon sitting with his face buried in his hands. You went to him, sat by his side, and gingerly pulled his hands away from his face. “Namjoon...what’s wrong?”
He looks up into your face, and there’s shock, confusion, and tears in his brown eyes. There’s a look of disconnect as he takes in the sight of you, the suitcases standing by the door.
“You left.” He says.
You shake your head.
The tears in his eyes spilled down his cheeks. “You did. You left, and all your stuff was gone. You were gone.”
“Not like that.” You said. You did leave, but not in the way he might have thought. You went to think. To find peace and quiet so you could listen to your heart.
You made your decision. You decided to love him anyway, and keep loving him, and keep working at your marriage. Even though it failed, you would keep trying. Because love didn’t quit. It wasn’t pride, or anger, or hurt. It didn’t hold grudges or keep resentments. It was patient, and kind, and forgiving. Healing.
And that was what you wanted, right? To heal.
“I’m sorry, I should have approached this better.” You said. “I figured you’d still be sleeping by the time I got back. I just needed to be on my own for a bit. Clear my head, think.”
Alone, you had more clarity about everything. Though knowing Namjoon’s truth didn’t make anything any easier. It did help you find your truth.
Namjoon kissed the back of your hand and held on tight. His palms were wet, but you didn’t let go. He looked at you, and something softened in his eyes. “I thought–” he said, voice cracking. “I thought…”
“Me too.”
“You said you’d never come back.”
“I know. That was a long time ago...I promised you that I would leave. But that’s not how promises work anyway. And I don’t want a relationship based on promises. Those are just thoughts. And words. And they don’t mean anything unless your actions match up.”
“We said we’d be honest with each other so,” you took a deep breath, holding it for a minute before saying what you could only admit to yourself in private.
“I know I could start over. Find someone else. There are other men... but when I think about it, when I think about it, I’ve only ever wanted you. I don’t want to start over with someone new. And kiss strangers. And hope to fall in love again. I want you. I still love you.”
“I love you, too,” Namjoon said. Softly. Without hesitation.
“But things have to change. We just stopped talking. You were my best friend, but we were living like strangers because we didn’t communicate with each other–I can’t do that again. You can’t just keep all your feelings bottled up inside. You need to talk to me. I don’t know if I can be everything that you need me to be, but you have to give me a chance. Don’t shut me out.”
“Can you do that for me?” You finished. You looked at his face and honestly stared back at you.
“I can. I can do anything for you.” Namjoon whipped at his wet face. “If I could take it all back I would…I’m far from perfect, and I’ve done things that hurt you, things I’ll live to regret for the rest of my life. But I want to do better. Be better. And I know that I’m a better man when I’m with you… And I want to be by your side. Always. I can’t pretend it never happened. Like everything’s fine and that it’ll all be okay. I don’t know that. But I want it to be. I want to try...”
Now you were tearing up. You squeezed his hand. “So let’s try.”
“But Namjoon, I swear, if you try this shit again—”
“I won’t. I can’t. After everything...baby, all I see is you. I don’t want anyone else.”
Namjoon smiled at you, a real smile, eyes turning into crescent moons.
And you smiled back.
He leans forward then, till your forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and you both close your eyes, savoring the moment. That feeling came back. The one from the night before. Overwhelming, unfiltered love. And at that moment, you know.
You know you can move on. Fall in love again, rebuild your trust.
Author's Note: So, I made it a thing
Summary: A month after Thomas and Y/n last saw each other, neither of them can seem to let go.
Masterlists Daylight
Warnings: Angst, infidelity, mentions of prostitutes.
One month later
Sitting up against the silk covered pillows, Thomas reaches over into a small, wooden box stationed on the exquisitely designed bedside table for a cigarette, collecting the lighter as well before rolling the slender paper cylinder between his lips. Bedside him, Thomas feels someone shifting around, though, just as she moves to drape a slender arm over his bare midsection, he shuffles out of the messy bed, pulls on his pants and goes over the suite’s stocked drink cart.
At first, he goes for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey, but when he catches a glimpse of a familiar label on a green tinted bottle perched in a bucket of ice, Thomas grabs that instead. He’s never been much of a wine drinker, but its Y/n’s favorite and ever since that last evening at her apartment, Thomas has found himself eager to hold on to whatever of her he has left.
Filling a delicate crystal glass to the halfway mark, Thomas takes a large swing of the honeyed liquor, humming at the way buttery notes meld with the flavor of red berries. Its never been hard to deduce why she likes it so much, though that evening, he finds that there’s an unusual, bitter undertone to the typically sweet wine, perhaps because he can hardly have a sip without recalling her red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks.
Anguish he caused her.
Punctuating long sips of wine with strong pulls of his cigarette, Thomas lingers at the cart, feeling much too guilty to even turn around and address the woman populating the large bed at the center of the room. He can’t quite remember her name, or even if he’d asked, but not knowing what the call her is hardly the source of the heaviness on his conscience;
Its only been about a month since he last saw Y/n and he can’t help but feel like its a crime to fill her space. It feels like he’s betraying her.
Funny enough, Thomas has never felt that way about stepping out on Grace. Of course there were the usual feelings of self-reproach; she hadn’t been wrong when she accused him of not wanting to cheat on Grace- he never did, but after meeting Y/n once, he was a goner. She was like a magnet and he was iron- he couldn't help himself.
Y/n was a bright, un-flickering flame erupting from cold, pitch darkness and Thomas was a broken-winged moth at her mercy.
“Why don’t you come back to bed?” A pair of arms wind around his waist and he feels the young woman’s breasts press against his back, the coolness of her rayon slip contrasting with the warmth of his skin, “We’ve still got an hour, honey.”
Irritated by the intrusion, Thomas snuffs on the cigarette in a nearby ash tray and uses his now free hand to push her arms away. “Get dressed,” he mumbles coldly, crossing the room to collect his own clothes.
The prostitute scoffs, “The cost’s still the same,” she folds her arms indigently and shifts her weight from one leg to the next.
Rolling his eyes, Thomas tugs on his trousers without looking at her, “I’ll pay you extra to shut the fuck up.” When his snide offer is met with nothing more than an irate huff, Thomas spares the woman a glance, furrowing his brows as his passing look leads to the strangest realization; he hadn’t noticed before, but she looks a little like Y/n- if Y/n were much cheaper, wore way too much rouge and dabbled in drugs.
Perhaps they just have broadly similar features- perhaps when he was drunk that was enough, but now that he’s sobered up, Thomas is completely disgusted with himself.
That was another thing she was right about; she is a sin that he needs to atone for. He does need forgiveness- for what he did to her, how he tried to replace her as if she were nothing more than a void existing within him. And he’d deserve it if she never accepted his attempt at recompense.
Finally shrugging his long coat over his suit and collecting his hat, Thomas brushes past the half-dressed young woman and carelessly tosses a few crumpled notes to the bedside table closest to the door, its probably way more than the amount that they agreed on but he doesn’t care. In fact, he can hardly think of anything but his desire to put as much distance between himself and his cheap distraction as possible.
“Don’t you at least want to know my name?” She asks just as his hand closes in around the door knob, prompting Thomas to pause contemplatively.
He really isn’t certain as to whether or not he’s even actually asked her, but Thomas doesn’t particularly care either. “No,” he offers coldly, shutting the door behind him in the wake of his exit.
Outside the hotel, when Thomas finally clamors into his car, the sun has already set and according to his pocket watch, its nearing nine pm. He knows that he should go home; its late and he’s tired near the point of blindness but Grace has recently taken Charles to Ireland on a visit to her family and Thomas finds that the house feels incredibly hollow without them, even if there is still a full staff carrying on with business as usual.
In retrospect, its probably him that’s hollow- them being gone leaves him with too much idle time. Even if things are still unending at work, he still finds his mind straying to thoughts of someone that put him out of her life, and it is in those moments, Thomas usually welcomes the distraction offered by Charles wanting company to play with his trains or Grace popping in for menial small talk.
He’s been doing anything and everything to keep his mind off her but nothing seems to work.
There isn’t a damn thing he’s done in the past month that isn’t hampered by the thought of Y/n. The feel of her mouth on his, the warmth of her skin, the smell of her perfume when he kisses her neck- her laugh, the serenity he feels when they’re together. Truthfully, Thomas had known missing her would eat away at him from the minute Y/n had asked him to leave but he’s done his utmost best to prove himself wrong; if she wants him gone then he’ll damn well go.
But he can’t seem to let go.
He still drives by her flat sometimes and spends a couple minutes gazing up at the window, wondering what she’s up, to while other times, he’ll get as far as asking the operator to put him through to her phone only to hang up before Y/n can pick up. There’s a bottle of her favorite wine in his office and the jeweler recently delivered a necklace he’d ordered especially for her.
A delicate looking, pearl choker with an oval ruby the size of his thumb nail at the center- he doesn’t have to give it to Y/n to know she’d love it. In fact, despite their state of affairs, Thomas is still debating whether or not he should just send it to her; it’s meant for her anyway.
The engine tumbles to life with minimal effort, and upon steering out onto the street, where traffic is progressively dwindling as the hour grows later, Thomas makes a rash and impulsive decision;
He’s going to see her- the necklace, tucked in the glove compartment, is as good an excuse as any.
Even if she slams the door in his face after barely looking at him, even if she condemns him to hell, for one moment, he’ll cross her mind and Thomas will know that he isn’t alone in the torrent of memories.
The path to her house is one that has been seared into his memory; he can find his way there from anywhere. Y/n, he often thought before the mess of things, is like a beacon; a lighthouse with beams bright enough to burst through the thickest fog, a siren song that calls him home. He can find her without thinking, he knows his way to her as if his place was always meant to be alongside her.
He is meant to walk the golden bricked road that leads to her.
“Thank you for walking me back,” Y/n flashes her companion a small smile as they reach the front doors of her building.
Peter shrugs nonchalantly but by the yellow light of the near-by street lamp, she catches the way his green eyes brighten as he stuff his fidgety hands into the pockets of brown, tweed slacks. “Of course,” he licks his lips nervously and Y/n draws in a stilling breath. Peter works at the orphanage’s library and according to the other teacher’s Y/n usually lunches with, he’s always fancied her; he brings her little things from the nearby bakery sometimes and brought her flowers on her birthday earlier that year. He’s sweet, she thinks, and has a sort of boyish charm about him- he’s exactly the kind of man she usually favors; quiet, safe and respectable.
If she weren’t so stuck in her feelings for Thomas, Y/n might actually return his feelings.
Thomas; Y/n has been trying to push him towards the back of her mind since the evening she asked him to leave. She keeps telling herself that she needs to get over him, make him an afterthought- after all, that’s all she probably is to him;
A warm body to fill his time. Something young and pretty that he can play with when he’s bored of his wife.
Nothing but heartache can come from a man like Thomas- a married man with enough money and power to think that affords him the privilege to do what he wants. Treat women however he wants. She’s learned that the hard way.
He hardly even cares about himself, so it isn’t far-fetched that he doesn’t have the capacity to care for her.
So why can’t she seem to let him go; why does she think of him when she wakes up and goes to bed, when she goes to work or gets in a bath? When she does something painstakingly mundane or completely out of her routine.
When she’s linking arms with a nice man who’d never treat her the way Thomas has.
“Did you hear me?” Peter touches her elbow and Y/n jumps, only just realizing that she’d lapsed into contemplation. Its funny how he can take up so much space in her mind while simultaneously being absent from her life.
Shaking her head, Y/n paints on a faltering smile, “No, sorry. What was that?” She tips her chin a little to meet his gaze.
“Its nothing,” Peter rubs the back of his head bashfully, “I was just saying….it was my pleasure; its been nice spending time with you.”
She supposes that if she let herself, Y/n might be able to return those words without them being a lie. But she can’t; truthfully, she’s been doing the same thing that Thomas did with her- using Peter as a distraction. Y/n would love to think that her crime is hardly as severe, but if Peter does feel for her what all her friends say he does, then the cruelty is just the same.
“Its…been nice for me too,” Y/n licks her lips, “I really....” Before she can finish, the car coming up the street slow as it approaches them, finally pulling up across the street, where an aged tree affords the driver the opportunity to keep their identity shrouded. Though, Y/n doesn’t need to see the driver to know whose car that is; she’s been in that car more times than she can count.
Thomas.
Her heart quickens and Y/n’s gaze hastily shifts between the polished Bentley and Peter as irrational guilt sets in. Feeling that way is utterly irrational, Y/n knows that much- she isn’t betraying him, just moving on.
Torn between wanting to keep pressing forward until Thomas is completely in her rear view and missing him so much that it burns, Y/n fumbles with her words.
“Are you okay?” Peter probes when her stare lingers on the car.
“Um..yeah,” flashing him a tight smile, Y/n turns back to Peter, “Its just-”
Off to her left, the distinct click of the car door being opened catches her attention once more, and Y/n shifts her gaze just in time to see Thomas getting out of the car before shoving the door shut. “Do you know him?” Peter protectively reaches for her arm just as Thomas lingers at the car, hands stowed in his pockets.
“I-yeah,” she nods vigorously, “I do. I should go,” Y/n lays her palm on his hand, still gently holding her arm, and offers it a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”
Confused by her sudden desire to dismiss him, Peter nods stiffly, “Right, yeah, of course,” he drops his hand and Y/n immediately feels awful about possibly disappointing him, “Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”
“You too,” he’s about to walk off when Y/n impulsively leans towards him, planting a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, “I really appreciate you walking me back,” she reminds him, words whispered against his lips before she spares him another, quicker kiss. When she pulls away, Peter’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide behind his round-framed spectacles.
Their hands brush when he finally walks off, though its hardly the reason for the shiver that runs through her. Instead, its Thomas’ glare that prompts Y/n to suck in a sharp breath.
Jealousy, fury or a volatile combination of both- its hard to tell. Shamefully though, Y/n is quite pleased to have achieve what she’d set out to do; arouse a reaction that he has no choice but to subdue.
She isn’t his to fight for, he has no claim to her.
Matching his stance, Y/n slips her hands into the front pockets of her burgundy long coat, “I told you to not come back here.”
“Not exactly,” without concern, he slowly steps forward, pausing when he reaches the middle of the sleepy street, “You said you never wanted to see me again.”
Shaking one shoulder, Y/n blinks quickly and looks away, “Same thing,” she sniffles, “You shouldn’t be here- I don’t want you here.”
Licking his lips, Thomas nods in feigned understanding, “Really?”
“Yes.”
It only hands a few more steps before Thomas is stepping onto the sidewalk, leaving only about six inches between them. If it was hard to think with him twenty miles away, its even harder with him so close that she can smell cheap, floral perfume staining his clothes. “Really?” Thomas asks again.
How dare he fuck someone else and then show up at her doorstep?
“Really,” in her pockets, Y/n’s fists ball and she grits her teeth, “Besides, I’m sure your whore’s waiting on you,” she spats, turning on her heel to head towards the building.
But Thomas is faster. Grabbing her arm, he urges her back towards him and by the time she’s able to shake off his grip, their chests are barely a hair apart, “That was a mistake,” he admits, eyes growing dim as his tone becomes mournful, “I wanted so fuckin’ bad for her to be you.”
Huffing a dry chuckle, Y/n rolls her eyes, “Aren’t we past flattery, Tom?”
“This would be easier if it were flattery,” Thomas’ grip lingers on her hips, firm but not bruising, “I miss you, Y/n,” he stresses and she can feel her resolve chipping away.
A hitched breath burns her throat on his way out, “Why are you doing this to me?” She whines, “Haven’t I given you enough?”
Thomas doesn’t answer directly, Y/n doesn’t expect him to. “You have,” he admits, “But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head. I don’t know what you’ve done to me-”
“What I’ve done you?” She pulls away abruptly, only for Thomas to easily reel her back in.
“That’s not how I meant it,” he sighs, thinking for a handful of seconds before pressing his lips to hers in what she thinks is his version of an apology. For the shortest moment, she considers not responding at all but his lips on hers are a reminder of everything she misses about him; the thrill he offers, his ability to make her feel like the most special woman in the world.
When Y/n finally relents, everything after comes like a breaking wave in the midst of a storm. Her arms loom around his neck and Y/n leans forward on her toes, practically melting into Thomas’ chest. Their lips move in impassioned synchrony while he kneads her hips hungrily. He begins nudging her towards the front doors of the building, steps rendered blind and clumsy by their un-breaking lip lock.
Its just one more night, she concedes; small crime in comparison to the past year. They can out run the daylight one more time,
“This is not alright,” Y/n shudders against his lips as her back hits the door and Thomas reaches past her to push it open.
It is not alright, but the path of least resistance rarely is.
𝐚/𝐧: the first chapter of the and they were roommates! series :D send in an ask or comment here to be added to the taglist! (sorry for the delay, i have been really unproductive so uh, yeah)
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭
you’ve been stuck with haechan for about a month. you’ve successfully avoided him for the majority of the time, he’s still a bit flirty, but he’s been pretty quiet too.
except for when he streams. did he mention that he was a streamer? unfortunately no, you had to find out the hard way.
“haechan, can you fucking tone it down?” you storm into his room after enduring half an hour of his screaming on a thursday night. “i have an essay due tomorrow and it’s 30 percent of my mar-”
you see a professional looking mic, webcam, and another monitor with what seems like comments flowing in constantly on the screen.
“oh…” you trail off taking in all the equipment in front of you as haechan looks up at you.
“oh hey, sorry about that, jeno and renjun were being noobs and i needed to teach them a lesson, chat knows. i’ll keep it down, sorry.” he turns back to his game in front of him, completely unbothered.
“yeah.. uh sorry for barging in, thanks.” you say quickly and dash out his room, hearing the other voices from his headset laugh.
your face is hot, and you feel so embarrassed.
anyways, lesson learned.
a few days later, you were complaining to your friend about haechan on a zoom call–as usual.
this time, however, she needed to spill the tea about her thoughts.
“ma’am, what is this tension,” she jokes. “i can feel it from miles away.”
“hey!” you snap back. “need i remind you that i have a boyfriend? and haechan? ew no, he gets on my nerves too much for that.”
“oh right, your boyfriend.” she rolls her eyes. “i think you need to visit him, you’re so uptight all the time, i’m gonna get wrinkles if you keep complaining to me about shit.”
“oh right, restrictions have been slightly lifted, i can probably go visit him.” you remember reading about it in the news.
“yep, go.” your friend sips on her iced coffee and you laugh.
the next day, you go through with your plan to go visit your boyfriend.
all prepped and ready and you were going to walk out the door before you hear haechan coming out his room.
“oh, good morning, i’ll be out for a bit, maybe the whole day.” you say to him.
“good morning.” he yawns. “look at you all dolled up and pretty, where you going?” he smirks as you roll your eyes.
“visiting my boyfriend,” you scowl out. “now if you’ll excuse me, i better get going.”
“oh great, hope you enjoy your time with him.” he smiles and you think he’s going to be nice for once. “don’t forget protection.”
you groan. of course he had to ruin it.
“thanks haechan.” you yell behind you as you walk out the door.
it takes around 1 hour to drive to your boyfriend’s university, and an additional 10 minutes to his apartment, and you’re giddy the whole time.
you’ve missed human interaction.
and no, lee haechan does not count.
you’ve missed the warmth and fuzzy feeling of an embrace, of having someone’s arms around you, protecting you from the outside world.
you couldn’t wait to get cuddles.
hopefully your boyfriend likes this surprise.
gleefully walking into the building, pressing in the password to his apartment complex. completely missing the creaking coming from his room, but as you entered, you hear the voice of another person, who was definitely not your boyfriend.
you stomp right up to the door, and push it open.
there’s two people in the bed, and your eyes glower at your boyfriend.
“what?” the girl screams, scrambling to cover herself.
“babe?” your boyfriend is frozen on the spot as the girl looks at him as if he just said the most bizarre thing ever.
“babe?” she seems angry now. “you said you were single? what the fuck?”
“yeah, i think he lied to you.” you say coldly. “do you have anything to confess, ‘babe’?”
“you’re a douche, what the fuck.” she gets up and gets dressed. “i’m so sorry, he told me he was available, i would literally never agree to sleep with anyone who’s taken.”
“yeah, it’s okay.” you say, kind of relieved, and the two stare are you like you’re an alien. “at least now i know what type of person i was dating.”
and you turn to walk out.
“wait, babe please.” your ex tries to run after you. “y/n, let me explain.”
“no need to, we’re over.” you turn to say. “you need a ride?” you ask the girl.
“yeah sure.” she says. “don’t call me.”
“babe please, can we talk this out?”
you couldn’t believe it. you drove 1 hour to see him and he has the audacity to pull this shit and expect you to just easily forgive? nope, lesson learned.
pfft, and he said long distance would work.
“no we can’t, now if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere else to be.” you grab the girls arm and walk out the door, slamming it in front of your ex’s face before he can catch up.
“do you have any plans for the rest of today?” you ask the girl after entering your car. she shakes her head while you smile. “great, any bar or night club recommendations you have?”
“uhh, bar then nightclub?” she suggests.
“i like the way you think.” you giggle. “i’m y/n btw.”
“yina.” she smiles back at you as you pull out of the parking lot.
a few hours later, and way too many drinks in, you’re at a table with yina, spilling your deepest secrets about your relationship with your ex.
“can you believe he made me wash his socks?” you take a sip before continuing. “and with my hands too!”
“what? that’s disgusting!” she listens to you rant in disbelief.
“yeah, he said that his socks were precious and the washing machine was too harsh on the cotton or some crap.” you snicker as you recall the other stupid stuff he told you. “ah the shit i did for love.”
“men are trash,” yina says. “cheers to that.” and you both down the rest of what’s left of your drink.
fast forward another 2 hours, you’re wasted. absolutely wasted.
yina held you back a little bit, but its no use. you needed this.
“y/n, it’s like 11 pm, you’re drunk, i’m barely sober, i think we should call someone to come and get us.” yina tries to reason with you while you shake your head.
finally after 10 minutes of bickering, you finally agree.
“here’s my phone, you can call anyone.” you rest your head on your folded hands after handing her your unlocked phone. “anyone but haechan.” you start to doze off. “anyone but haechan…”
“hbbhng” you jolt up, feeling the warmth of your own bed.
how did you get back home?
groaning, you feel your headache. you feel the vomit coming up your throat as you gag.
you almost fall trying to get out of your covers.
“woah there, be careful.” haechan is suddenly barging into your room, holding onto you so you don’t fall on your face, guiding you to your bathroom.
you’re too nauseous to wonder why he’s even helping you or even bother screaming at him like usual.
he pats your back soothingly as you vomit into the toilet.
“there you go, that’s it. i’ve got you.” he reassures you.
“what are you even doing helping me?” you’ve washed up and downed some water, you’re 100% sober now.
“wow,” haechan chuckles, rolling his eyes. “after saving your ass last night, this is the thank you i get?”
“what do you mean you saved me?” you’re genuinely confused by what he means.
“this yina girl called me from your phone, telling me that you’re blacked out drunk in a nightclub at 11:32 PM, on a saturday. asking me to come and get you.” he says, matter-of-factly. “i call a cab, get to the nightclub, haul your ass out the club, drive yina back home, and then us. where during our commute back, you wake up, start crying, and when we get home, you’re bawling about how your boyfriend cheated and you were a dumbass for thinking he would change. remember now?”
you’re in shock.
yina called haechan? you remember clearly that you told her not to, this is so embarrassing. you even cried about your ex to him? oh dear lord you wanted to crawl back into your room into a deep pit and never come out.
haechan must’ve noticed your distressed expression because his face turns softer.
“hey hey hey, sorry, that was a bit mean. you just got out of a relationship, that was really inappropriate of me and i do not blame you for wanting to relax a bit.” he tries to comfort you once again. you’re in even more shock by his words. “honestly, me driving you back home, and taking care of you was the least i could do. it would have been so mean if i just left you guys there.”
you wanted to burst out into tears.
this is the nicest thing you’ve heard in about 6 months.
unfortunately, haechan doesn’t know that.
“oh gosh, jheez, i’m not helping aren’t i.” he’s panicked by your emotional state. “uhm, to make it up to you, i’ll watch one of those scary movies with you?”
your tears instantly are sucked back into your eyes in excitement.
“really?” you ask, just making sure.
“yep, ahaha.” he laughs nervously, but happy to see your mood lighten up.
“you free tonight?” bouncing up and down practically.
“yeah…” haechan is a bit scared. “aren’t you going a bit too fast though, princess? you jut got out of a relationship.”
you gasp and slap him in the arm.
“okay okay! that was a joke. yeah i’m free, i have an essay due, but i’ll be done by 6.” haechan says.
“sounds good!” you b-line for the kitchen, your stomach is completely empty. “see you then haechan!”
oh how haechan regrets his offer.
6 o’clock rolls by, and you choose “the shining” to watch with haechan. anticipating the terror it would bring him.
and you were right.
every jumpscare, even the smallest sounds, haechan would screech in fright. the last straw for him was the knock on your door.
“AHHHH!” he screams, almost knocking the popcorn out of your hands.
“calm down, dude.” you say, standing up to open the door.
to the unfortunate sight of your ex.
“y/n?” he says, softly.
“what are you doing here? how did you find out where i lived?” you were very sure you never gave him your dorm address.
“your friend gave it to me,” the eye bags he has are very evident. “listen, can we talk?”
“no?” haechan suddenly butts into the conversation. “you literally cheated on her, she doesn’t owe you anything.”
“who are you? her rebound?” your ex frowns.
“her roommate, and if you even bothered to keep up with y/n, you’d know.” haechan returns the frown.
“it’s between me and y/n, you have no business telling us what to do.” your ex is getting more aggressive now.
“that’s funny, i was the one who was called to drive her home while she was out drunk, i was the one who listened to her talk about how she regretted believing you again, i was the one who held her hair back when she was vomiting this morning from her hangover.” haechan again returns the energy. “you tried to contact her, but she blocked your number and you had to get her address from her friend. you never even cared to ask her beforehand, and now you wanna try and show up to seem like you care? bullshit. now if you’ll excuse us now, we have a movie to finish.” he slams the door in his face and haechan surprises you for the millionth time today.
your ex bangs on the door for about 3 minutes before giving up, and you guys sit in silence as the movie still plays.
“hey haechan.” you try and start.
“AHHH!” he screams again, scaring you this time.
“JHEEZ BRO I WAS TRYING TO START A CONVO, CHILL OUT.” you scream back.
“thanks for that.” you say, genuinely. “not even joking, you didn’t have to do that.”
“well i did, because that dude was a douche. literally having the guts to come over here and try and ask for forgiveness after he cheats. unbelievable.”
“yeah.” you fiddle with your fingers anxiously.
“i like this side of you,” haechan breaks the awkwardness. “you’re usually uptight, little-miss-perfect, and cranky, so i like this raw side of you.”
“mhm, i realized that now. sorry for being such a bitch.” you admit.
“no, i honestly deserve it. but i hope we can be friends now, it would be great to have real conversations with someone, you know?” he says.
“seriously?” you hit him in the chest as he chuckles.
“i’m joking! i swear. but seriously, friends?” he asks.
Summary: Your husband Yuta cheated on you - so you cheated on him back. Fair, right? But when he finds out, he isn’t happy at all...
Genre: Husband!Yuta, Angst
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: Infidelity, Sexual Content, Body Image
Gif: @leejenos
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ⭐
“Wait! I can explain.”
You took in Yuta before you. His nostrils were flared, chest rising and falling fast, the veins in his arms bristling.
You’d never seen your husband this angry.
You gulped. “For starters, why don’t you sit down?”
Yuta just raised an eyebrow; as if.
Sighing, you began. “Look, when you told me you cheated on me… it was just so hard to forgive you.” Your teeth wared away at your lip. Yuta’s frown did not soften.
“But then I understood why. You had all the power, and I had nothing. But now, I’ve… settled the score.”
Stepping closer, you placed on hand on Yuta’s arm. You felt the muscles tense beneath your fingers. “We can move on now.”
For a taut second, you searched Yuta’s steely gaze. Every smooth plane of his body was still. Then he scowled. “And you were planning on telling me when?”
You sighed. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I forgive you. I forgive you for cheating on me.”
Yuta turned away, crossing his arms. “So, all that stuff about rebuilding trust, focusing on each other for a while… that was bullshit?”
You twisted your lip in indignation. “Everyone has their methods. Why are you even mad? You did the same to me. No. You did worse.”
When Yuta turned to you, you saw his eyes were a glistening red.
“Why am I even mad? You risk our marriage for some childish tit-for-tat… and I’m meant to be just fine, huh?” As Yuta spluttered out his frustration, you could feel your body closing down.
Any moment now, the deafening pain would fade to a low hum. You stared at the scrappy carpet you never got around to changing, waiting to blank out.
You were shocked by an iron hand on your shoulder.
“Don’t, Y/n. Don’t you dare. Don’t do that… that thing where you space out because you’re too scared to finish an argument!”
Your mouth popped open. You’d lost your escape; you were slap bang in the middle of it now.
Just then, you heard the squeak of the door opening.
Two pairs of eyes: yours, a clouded caramel, and his, a furious mahogany, closed in on your bedroom door.
A tiny figure struggled to push it open.
It was your youngest son, Nico. His chocolate doe-eyes were gluey with sleep, and he clung his Paw Patrol bed cover round him like a cape. His soft pink lip was stuck out and trembling.
“Baby… what’s the matter?” you crooned, kneeling down and clasping his tiny hands in yours.
You could feel Yuta’s stare like heat on your back, but you ignored him. Some things mattered more.
“Mummy, my head hurts… and I can’t sleep.”
You stroked Nico’s chubby pink cheek, then gasped. It was burning. When you pressed your hand to his forehead, your fears were confirmed.
“He has a fever!” You turned to ask Yuta for advice, but you stopped yourself. He was clearly not in a co-parenting mood.
“Get back into bed, sweetie. I’ll bring you some porridge, okay?” You brought your son’s hand to your lips, then sent him out the door, blanket trailing.
When you turned back to Yuta, your gentle smile was wiped from your face. In its place was blank indifference.
“I’ll deal with this.” You said. “Don’t you have that big meeting today?”
Yuta rolled his eyes. “You barely know how to cook, Y/n. You go to work; I’ll make the porridge.”
In the end, you both stayed.
In military-style commands, you split up the tasks: caring for Nico, getting your other children fed and dressed, going out to get cold medicine.
But the whole morning was filled with stifling pain.
Each time you brushed arms with Yuta reaching for the cutlery drawer, or looked each other in the eyes by accident, your heart did a little squeeze.
At long last, Nico was fast asleep in his bed, lulled by your fingers stroking his hair.
For a moment, you let yourself just stare at your son. With his thick lashes, feathers of ebony hair and toffee skin, he was the splitting image of Yuta.
It was suddenly hard to breathe, and you couldn’t understand why.
Yuta was being totally unreasonable – you knew that. Then why did your heart crack every time he gave you that cold, cold stare?
You heard a rustle behind you, and hurriedly swiped your jumper sleeve over your wet cheeks. A clean, green scent, like a forest breeze, filled the room. You didn’t even have to look. It was Yuta.
You felt him crouch down beside you.
His deep breathing filled the silence of the tiny bedroom.
Then, to your shock, warm fingers threaded through yours. Yuta’s hand was slightly rough, and the perfect size.
Yuta squeezed your hand, vice-tight, and you suddenly understood. You felt Yuta’s pain, his remorse, his love surge through your body as strong as if they were yours.
In this moment, you weren’t a husband and wife broken beyond repair. You were two parents who needed each other.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Yuta murmured.
You heard what he really meant and felt it in your own heart. If we can make something that beautiful, maybe there’s hope for us, too.
But you didn’t say that. All you said was: “He’s perfect.”
Suddenly, you were interrupted again.
Rio, your eight-year-old son, swayed through the door, holding a huge tray. On it, was an omelette and a sloshing glass of orange juice.
Feeling like you’d laugh and cry at the same time, you took the tray from your son’s hands. The omelette – if you could even call it that – was peppered with pieces of eggshell.
“It’s for Nico. Because he’s ill.” Rio’s tone was perfectly serious. You and Yuta had to chuckle at his beaming brown face.
“That’s so sweet, honey! You’re the best older brother.” You hugged Rio close, though he tried to squirm away.
“Maybe next time, leave the cooking to Mum and Dad, huh Rio?” Yuta placed a kiss on his forehead, still smiling.
Yuta looked up, and suddenly you were staring into each other’s eyes. The moment wobbled, taking you off guard.
“I’m sorry, Yuta. All I want… is for us to have a second chance.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.
Yuta looked down, and your heart sunk fast.
Then, he leaned close, and whispered, “I’m sorry too. It’s my fault, I was just too proud to admit it. I do care about us,”- he stroked Rio’s hair – “all of us – enough to try again.”
Then Yuta’s hand rose, slowly, up your shoulder, making you shiver.
Then it slid around your head, and knitted into your hair.
Yuta leant down and pressed his mouth onto yours. You almost melted at the feeling of his lips, they were smooth and velvety, and his kiss was so gentle it almost made you cry.
As your lips slid against Yuta’s, they were filled with promise. This kiss was a thousand times sweeter than the morning’s, because you had nothing left to hide and everything left to give.
When he pulled away, you realised that Rio’s curious gaze was locked onto you.
“Hey!” Yuta chuckled, “Stop your ogling, son. Let’s try this omelette, shall we?”
You shared a grin with Yuta. He lifted the fork, and took a bite.
Rio’s expectant eyes shone at Yuta. “How is it, dad?”
Yuta pulled a face. “Hmm… crunchy. Just how I like it.”
You couldn’t help but giggle.
Your relationship had gotten a little sick, that was all. All you needed was a bowl of hot porridge and a hug, and maybe you and Yuta would be alright again...
---2 years later---
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Yuta’s head rested on your bare chest, and his hand was wrapped tight around your waist.
You hummed your greeting, utterly content and completely worn out from last night’s lovemaking.
For the last few weeks, you’d been constantly in the mood, and Yuta being Yuta, was more than happy to oblige.
Your marriage was in a good place. The mayhem of two years back was just a bad dream, forgotten within moments of waking.
Yuta kissed the skin between your breasts.
“You know,” he murmured. “We’ve still got a few hours before the kids wake up…” His hand slid stealthily between your legs.
You curled your fingers into his feathery hair, then a revolting wave of sickness rushed over you.
You shoved Yuta off you. “I’m gonna be sick!”
You jumped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, reaching the sink just in time.
“You okay babe?” Yuta meandered into the bathroom behind you, not bothering to put on any clothes.
You stared at him, heart racing.
His eyes rested on your thighs, your tummy, then your face.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Y/n… does this mean what I think it means?”
You smiled back tentatively. “A fourth kid… are we crazy?”
A large grin erupted onto Yuta’s handsome face. He walked towards you and pulled you into his arms.
Summary: When reuniting for the mission in Colombia, Frankie and the reader (nicknamed "Chipmunk"), bicker due to their rocky past. After some angry exchanges, a few truths come out, changing both of their perspectives. Will the relationship be mended? Or once this is over, will they go back to the way things were before?
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity, talk of sex and sexual encounters, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death, and talk of mental health(PTSD, depression).
A/N: This was inspired by the song "Truth Is" by Sabrina Claudio. I want to make this a series (my first series ever), but it's still being decided, so please let me know if you want this to be continued! And I am still taking requests and prompts! Thanks Lovelies <3
"Cmon, please Chip, we can't do this without you." Santiago begged, his hands clasped together in front of him to show his desperation as he stood before me in my small apartment kitchen. I sighed, glancing around our surroundings. He had come to ask about joining one last escapade, one last job and we'd all be set for the rest of our lives.
Finally breaking the silence and meeting his weary gaze, "Who all have you rounded up? If Will or Benny said no, there's no way I'm doing it without them." I took another deep breath, turning to continue the dishes I had been doing when Pope showed up.
Santi's face began to light up, his stance growing slightly as he grinned, "Great! They both wanted in, so did Tom." Seeming relieved he leaned against the counter next to the sink and crossed his arms.
"And F-Fish?" I hesitated, pausing the scrubbing on the porcelain dish in my hand. It felt like the air in my lungs no longer existed. My heart began to pound it's way up my throat and into my ears.
His head dipped down, feeling the concern laced in my voice. Clearing his voice, he quietly explained "Haven't asked him yet, he was last on my list."
I silently placed the last dish onto the rack near the sink and wiped my wet hands on my jeans, looking down and watching the wet marks gradually making themselves known. No longer forcing myself to make eye contact, I nodded at the ground.
"Look, querida, if you two just talked I'm sure it would work out." He pushed himself off the counter and stepped towards me, reaching a hand out and gently rubbing my shoulder to console me. "But don't let this change your mind, we really do need you."
"When are you going to mention it to him?" I breathed out, wanting to keep any and all emotions at bay. His hand on my arm squeezed, as if he was trying to give me some courage.
"Tonight, at Benny's fight, I thought his spirits would be up enough to persuade him." He chuckled lightly, knowing his plan was to take a little bit of advantage of Frankie's mood.
I laughed softly, "Definitely sounds like a Santi move if you ask me."
He smirked and shook his head "I know, shame on me." As he dropped his hand back to his side he quirked, "You should come tonight, we can go out for drinks after the fight, relax a little before we leave tomorrow."
It took me a second to register what he said, but when I did I burst out "wait what?! Tomorrow? Santi, why didn't you tell me that? You forgot the biggest detail!"
He cowered down slightly, rubbing the back of his neck "Because I knew you'd yell at me, it was worth a shot putting off the anger a little longer." He smiled coyly.
Rolling my eyes I couldn't help but forgive his dumb smile. "Well it starts soon, why don't I get my things real quick and we can head to the arena together?"
His smile widened, "Of course!" I grabbed my purse and keys, making sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind me. As we made our way down the elevator and out to his car, Santi told me a few details about the missions and the plan. But once we got into his rinky dink ford truck, I turned to him.
"About Frankie, I'm sure one of the boys told you, but just in case; his license was revoked." Santi's face contorted with confusion.
"What? How? Did he crash or hurt somebody?" He questioned quickly.
After taking a breath of courage I spoke, "No Pope. He-He was caught with coke."
Santi stayed quiet, turning the engine on. "I don't get it" A sad expression plastered on his face.
With a furrow in my brow I spoke again, "What don't you get? He was doing drugs, hardcore ones at that". I began to ramble more, "For what reason, I'm not sure, maybe the PTSD and depression. Maybe he felt he had no one to go to-"
"Stop. I know." He cut me off while finally shifting the gear into drive and moving up forward. "You can't blame anyone for this. All we can do is move on and help him. He's our friend, okay? But I know he's still the same Fish, just a little turned around."
"I know, okay. I can't help it. From what the boys told me, he seems to be a lot better." I added, stirring in my seat. "Anyways, it's been awhile since all of us have been back together. It's exciting."
Santi snickered, "But didn't you all hang out while I've been out of the U.S.?"
Seeing that we're close to the arena's parking garage I explained, "I mean, yea, but only me, Ironhead, Benny and Fish. I haven't talked to Redfly in months, we all had a fallout with him. Especially me."
"Tom didn't say anything when I talked to him, Do you wanna fill me in?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Huffing, I turn to face him, telling him the events of that night.
The four of us, the Millers, Frankie and I sat on my couch, watching TV and talking, when we hear a bang at the door. I got up to open it and find Tom slumped on the doorway. He looked rough and smelled like he had been drinking the past several days. "Woah, Tom, you're really drunk, and you drove here?"
He snapped, beginning to yell, "Who are you to judge me? Huh? My wife left me, this is how I cope." He angrily pushed his way past me and tumbled into the living room. He was greeted with the boys standing around him with concerned faces.
"What the hell were you thinking? You know how dangerous that is? You know you could've called and we would've been there for you!" I raised my voice back, causing Tom to swing around to face me.
He laughed darkly, "Oh shut up 'Miss Perfect,' just like you did for Fish? When he was nose deep in coke? Or are you too self obsessed? Or do you just have favorites!"
"Hey man, that's not cool." Will interrupted and tried to get a handle on Tom. Frankie lowered his head in embarrassment. Will reached forward and placed a hand on his back, but things escalated more.
"Oh okay, yea protect the whore, we all know she's there for you guys more than just talking. I wouldn't doubt it if you all fucked her too. But me? Nah, you leave me out of everything." Tom howled, yanking away from Will and slurring his words and no longer making sense.
Anger becoming more prominent, I spoke, "Seriously?! Whore?! How is it my fault that you push us away and don't let us help? We include you in everything, but you have your head so far stuck up your ass you never show up!" I've come face to face with him, my hot breath and voice blowing into his face above me. "And another thing, I'm not a whore, you asshole, I'm with Frankie!"
He leaned closer to me, his breath reeking of alcohol, "Just him? Does he know where you're at everyday Monday and Wednesday at 1?! I doubt it!"
Frankie speaks up, "What? What is he talking about?" A devilish smirk makes its way to Tom's face.
"Nothing, I swear it's nothing." I try to explain, making eye contact with my partially hurt lover.
"Tell him, tell him you've been seeing a 'Dr. Philips.' Go on, do it." He rubs it in.
Looking behind Tom, I saw Frankie looking like his world had just shattered. "You've been seeing someone?!"
Panicking, I speak, "Yes, but it's not what you think, I promise!"
"Then what is it?" Tom adds, stumbling back a foot and crossing his arms contently at the damage he just caused.
Benny spoke up, knowing the truth about who I was "seeing." "You need to leave man, you have no right to say shit like that. You don't know the real situation"
Tom burst, yelling "I want her to admit it! I want her to admit that she isn't the perfect bitch she makes herself out to be!"
"Fuck you! Get the hell out of my house!" I scream, tears slightly welling in my eyes. "Frankie-" I turn to him, but to find him grabbing his things. "Baby please, let me explain."
"Explain what? You've been cheating on me?" his voice is loud, and cracks slightly.
A tear breaks its way down my cheek, "I haven't, Frankie, please believe me." I grab his hand, trying to stall his movements, but he pulls away.
"You just admitted it!" He frowns and yanks his hand away and heads for the door.
"That's right Fishie boy! Leave her, she's no good anyway!" Tom squawks as Benny grabs a hold of him and shoves him to the door, Will right behind to help.
"You bastard!" I lunged forward and swung my hand, landing right on the side of his face with a loud crack. Frankie spun around, startled at my actions.
The action only fueled Tom's anger because he ripped away from Benny's grip and grabbed me. I didn't back down and started to shove him and swing my arms, hitting him in the face and chest as he fought back.
But just as quickly as the fight started, it ended. Frankie tore me off of Tom, pinning me to his chest and stopping my brutal hits. Will and Benny wrested Tom into submission and dragged him out of the front door as he yelled slurs at me, and dumped him outside with a battered face.
While the brothers were dealing with a drunk Redfly, Frankie scolded and verbally fought with me.
"Just tell me! Who is Dr. Philips!" He questioned, slightly shaking me by the shoulders.
With many emotions running through my head, I couldn't process what was going on. "I-I can't, Frankie, I can't even admit it to myself." Tears streaming down my face I brought my hands up to the sides of his face. "But you have to believe me, por favor (please)."
Francisco looked like he was fighting an emotional battle in his mind. He finally spoke, "Either you tell me, or I leave, I can't do this, not if you keep things from me."
Feeling my heart break, I whispered "Please, mi amor (my love), don't make me. I'm not strong enough." My eyes now running like an open faucet and my hands tightly pressed to his cheeks.
He blinks away tears, reaching his hands up to grab mine and pull them away from his face, "Then I have to go." He drops my hands and turns to leave.
"Por favor no me dejes! (Please don't leave me)" I call after him, watching as he heads out of the door and into the night, leaving me alone. I drop to the floor, tears blurring my vision and all that can be heard are my sobs.
After what feels like hours, Will and Benny return, picking me up off the floor and taking me to my bed. They lay me down, attempting to help my emotional breakdown. They pick up whatever mess that was left after the event of that night.
"And after that night, Tom was no longer invited anywhere with us. Frankie distanced himself and refused to talk to me. But Will and Benny did their best to be there for me in any way they could. They did the same for Frankie. But as for Tom, they casted him out, because he changed, badly." I finished covering the story of that night, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. "And the Dr. Philips I was seeing, was my therapist. I didn't want anyone to know I wasn't okay mentally. I was embarrassed and part of me didn't want to admit I needed help. The lives we chose aren't easy."
Santi parked, and seemed shocked, "I'm sorry love, I knew you split with Fish, but didn't know any details or about Tom." He reached over and patted my thigh sympathetically. "I really am sorry that you went through all of that because Tom was an asshole. You really don't have to do this-"
"No I want to, I'm in a better place, so is everyone else." I smiled shyly, wanting to lift the spirits. "So what do you say? Let's go wrangle up our boys and get rich?"
Pope smiled brightly, "Hell yes!" We both got out of the car, and headed to the back of the arena and knocked, hoping Will was there to open it like he told Santi he would. Much to our luck, the door swung open to reveal a tall, smiling, blonde Miller brother.
"Brother!" Santi chuckled as he pulled the eldest Miller into a hug, clapping each other on the back. They pulled away as Pope headed inside to find the others.
"Hey pretty girl, long time no see." Will joked, hugging me tightly.
I scoffed, "Will, you were just at my house last night." We both laughed and he led me into a rank smelling locker room, which I assumed was for Benny to get ready. As we rounded the corner, I saw Benny and Tom chatting on one of the benches between the lockers.
"Chipmunk!" Benny roared as he ran over, picked me up and spun me around. "I missed you! I'm so glad you could make it!" He sat me back down and stepped back to sit on the bench again.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss you getting your ass beat for the world!" I giggled as I winked at him, showing the younger of us a bit of love.
He shook his head with a grin. As my eyes left him, they met with the eyes of Tom. He seemed to have a look of regret, trying to give me a sad smile.
I walked over to him, reaching my hand in a fist forward, lightly tapping his shoulder, "Hey fly, how you been?"
A small wave of relief washed over him as he responded "I'm good Chip, how are you? And look I'm really sorry, I wasn't in a good place and I regret-"
"Its okay Tom, really, it is. I'm just glad you're better. It's water under the bridge." I sit next to him and pat his back, showing that all, or at least most, is forgiven.
He nods slowly, "Thank you, it means a lot that you're here."
"Oh cmon you have to admit it, you couldn't do it without me, the best there is." I pretend to act over confident and burst into laughter. And Tom joins in.
As Tom and I begin to catch up, talking about what we've missed these past several months, I overhear a conversation.
"Hermano (brother)! How are you?" Santi greets Frankie, I assume, he was the last of us, who wasn't already here. When I realize that it is him, my heart begins to race. My skin starts to burn and get hot, my palms becoming sweaty.
"Pope! Benny! Ironhead! What is this, a reunion?" Frankie's voice echoes as they come closer. As the three round the corner, "All we need is Redfly and Chip-" Frankie stops as we become revealed to him. Tom gets up immediately and struts over to give Fish a hug. Frankie's face lights up with glee and hugs him back. When they step away from each other, I wearily stand up and all he does is give an awkward smile and nods in my direction.
Benny attempts to whisper to Santi, "Ouch, that's cold." And Santi jabs him in the stomach with his elbow, causing him to double over and make a "hmf" sound.
Being slightly hurt, I break the uneasy tension by opening an invitation, "Alright well I'm gonna go get a beer and find us some good seats, it's close to showtime!" Faking a smile I continue, "Who's coming?"
"Me, I can't be in here with this doofus anymore." Will chuckle as he ruffles Ben's hair and follows right behind me.
When we make it to the concession stand and order beers, Will taps my arm, "How are you feeling?"
With a sigh, "Honestly I expected that, but it hurt more when it actually happened. But what can I say." I grab out drinks from the concession worker and thank her and turn on my heels to find a seat. "I love him, and if that means waiting to mend things, it worth it, even if it means waiting forever."
Will offers a sympathetic grin. "It'll work, just watch. Oh! Over there! Perfect seats!" He points as his attention was caught by an opening near the rink. He pursues it as I follow behind.
While we sit, we joke around, waiting for the rest of the gang to come sit and watch Benny get thrown around. Finally the last three show up and sit with us, Tom sat on Will's right side, me on his other side, Santi on my left, but when Frankie walks up, he bends down and whispers to Santi, causing him to scoot further away from me and leaving room for Frankie to slot himself between us. Which took me by surprise. Once he was seated, he glanced over to me and gave me a genuine smile.
We don't say a word as the lights begin to dim and the announcer's voice breaks through the speaks, introducing our dear Benny and his opponent.
Our small group starts to cheer and scream Benny's name, to show him support. As he enters the rink, he searches for us, and when he finds us, he smiles big.
In the midst of all the commotion, Frankie leans over and whispers to me, "I missed you, cariño (sweetheart)."
My face whips around to meet a very close Fish, who is smiling. "I missed you too." I give a small smile and lean to my side to shoulder bump him, as he places a hand on my knee.
Hey! Could you do a Drabble where like Thomas cheats on the reader and (kinda like Eliza) y/n takes him back but things just aren’t quite the way they were and it’s bothering both of them
yep! this one is 967 words
Your presence floods the room.
When the two of you were younger and newer to the whole idea of love and forever, you would flood the room with light. Golden, shimmering light that warmed the room from the inside out. He couldn't take his eyes off you.
You still fill the room with your presence; up to its full capacity. Now it's a flood.
You flood the apartment, the water damage seeping into the ground. Contractors say the damage is irreparable. But maybe it's not so.
Thomas can't remember the last time you've said his name. He misses the way it sounds on your tongue, but he understands this isn't something he deserves.
The bed is cold and empty while two people lay next to each other.
He reaches his hand toward you before pulling back. He knows better. Thomas misses you, but reaching out is what he wants, not you. He's made enough selfish decisions lately to last him a lifetime. He's afraid they will last him a lifetime.
If he's being honest, sometimes he thinks his life would be better if he had never told you. It was one mistake. One awful, unforgiving mistake that had destroyed everything good in his life. If Thomas had kept his mouth shut, everything could've remained unimpaired and beautiful. But nothing good can grow out of lies, and the very least you deserved was the truth.
That didn't make the admission any easier. The way you looked away from him when he had told you about her. If you were angry with him, if you had yelled or thrown something, he would've understood. Thomas, to some degree, had suspected this behavior. Maybe that's partly why it hurts more when you speak to him softly.
You are gentle to him in a way he doesn't deserve. It's not forgiveness, and it breaks his heart even further when he realizes it's shame. On your part. Somehow his actions have made you feel less than adequate, and this hurts him the most.
“Twenty years.” He remembers you saying after his confession. “I have loved you for twenty years.”
Your voice was quiet when you spoke, and he thinks it was so he wouldn’t be able to hear all the cracks and factures in your words.
“I have loved you and only you. I only know how to love you. I only know how to love you. Do you know that? I so desperately want to hate you for this!”
And Thomas responded with something like: “you deserve to hate me.”
“I know that. But I can’t. I can only love you, which leaves me to carry the blame of your infidelity myself. What could I have done to make you love me more?”
Thomas was stunned and shocked into silence.
You can’t help your voice from breaking on your next words. “You are the only person I will ever love. Why am I not enough for you?”
Those words haunt Thomas when he closes his eyes. And when he wakes up. And when he goes to work. And when he takes a shower. And when he makes dinner. There is no point in his life where those words don’t ring in the back of his mind like chains anchoring him to his crimes. Why am I not enough for you?
The two of you are lying in bed now, the both of you being as still as possible, hoping your presence doesn’t take up too much space. After a brief lapse into weakness, you have shut off your emotions, becoming a shell of the person you once were. Thomas misses your laugh and your anger and your raised eyebrows when he does something stupid and the way you used to kiss him because it brought you an endless amount of joy. There is nothing left, save for the pain and sorrow he has inflicted upon you.
Nights like these, the two of you can hear the entire city of New York. On the street below, a group of young girls climb into a taxi for a wild night out. In the apartment across the way, a musician is practicing for opening night at the city orchestra. Across the hall, a single mother tries to rock her baby to sleep while she talks to her sister on the phone. Brown-blue water washing against the riverbank a few blocks down.
There is so much going on outside, it reminds Thomas that there is more than just this moment lying next to you. There was the day he had first met you, sitting across from you in elementary and sharing crayons. There was your wedding day, when Thomas swore you were some sort of ethereal being. There was the day after he cheated on you, waking up with a pool of regret in his stomach. There were all these past moments in time that existed out of his reach, and there was every future moment he could spend loving you.
All these future moments with you could only exist if Thomas made a decision now. Gathering any remaining courage, he reaches out across the sheets that had become a vast ocean in the void between the two of you. You tense at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, but after a long moment, you allow yourself to sink into his embrace.
Thomas feels a warmth surge in his chest at your silent acceptance, and delicately – because this might all fall apart if he isn’t careful – he pulls you closer to him. He presses his lips against your back like they could take away the pain his actions had inflicted. It’s not okay, and nothing will ever be the same, but the both of you are learning to love each other in new ways.
