#The drive back tomorrow will hurt lmao]] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicxl333 · 1 year

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could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

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thebearer · 1 year

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hi e! back again with more carmy shit because i love the way you did my little blurb justice 🥰. i literally just envisioned sydney minding her own business and just recklessly placing carmy in the hot seat cause she knew his ass was gon get it 😂. i’m all in for more dom!carmy so i’d love to keep the idea going that his s/o works for/with/alongside him at the bear with a touch of her giving him her two cents? a little bit of sass to just remind who he’s dealing with 😩. maybe this time around he slipped up on something major (a birthday, anniversary, or something that overall was important to the reader and he put it off because in his mind the bear comes first). she’s been slowly driving him crazy with that silent treatment she’s been doing for the last few days and her less than a few syllabled words when he doesn’t remind her how irked he made her 😂; she’s not mad anymore just disappointed. and anyway basically in a prep for preordered to go’s on lunch rush he’s reading back orders to her and she completely writes him off. i can see him being like exactly how he when he’s not getting when he needs from his staff during a frenzy and flipping tf out. like you know when he repeats himself a second time as if you didn’t hear him the first he means it 😂. tysm in advance! please feel free to do whatever you’d like. i’m writing this at 6 in the morning so many ideas are coming into the fold. i hope you have a great day - 🥣.

ok i did sorta a different-ish take. same idea but i don't write the reader as a chef bc quite honestly i can't relate lmao i'm a horrendous cook lol. but silent treatment yes!! reader works at the bear but not a chef.

"Does anyone know where the extra napkins are? Mindy needs to be settin' tables." Carmen huffed, slamming the empty crate back in the back stock.

"That would be your missus' domain." Richie snickers, elbowing Fak lightly. "Guess you better go ask her, Cousin."

"Yeah? Fuck off. Thought it was your fuckin' job." Carmen grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Me? Fuck no, Cousin. You know who's job it is, c'mon." Richie grinned. "It's your wife, Carm. What? Scared to talk to your wife?"

Carmen sneered, huffing in annoyance, but the truth was... yes, he was a little scared. Especially with how furious you were at him. Carmen was a chronic over worker, barely taking time for himself. It was a constant fight between the two of you, one he'd gotten better at, but still struggled finding that balance. Which normally, you'd be more forgiving about.

Except it was your anniversary.

Carmen left you waiting at home, dressed up with a new lingerie set that he painfully didn't get to enjoy. By the time he got off, taking his time to clean the kitchen, prep for tomorrow's crowd, he looked at his phone and saw your texts and calls, his heart dropping.

You'd been giving him the cold shoulder since then, furious and hurt- or so he assumed, you wouldn't say anything.

Richie found the entire thing hilarious when Carmen told him. "You forgot your fuckin' anniversary? You jagoff, holy shit."

Carmen found it less than amusing. The tension in the restaurant was thick because of the two of you. Everyone teetering around you, but especially Carmen, he was more on edge now.

Pushing the door open to the office, Carmen ducked his head in, seeing you at his desk- your desk, technically, you used it more. "Hey, honey," Carmen's voice was soft, a sweet hum that had your spine straightening. He flinched lightly, stepping towards you. "D'you know where the extra napkins are?"

You didn't reply, simply typing on your laptop, editing a video for the social media page about the upcoming summer specials.

Carmen blinked, barking out your name in a much harsher than he meant to, but it seemed to work. Kinda. Your head whipped around, eyes in a burning glare when they met his, but your lips were still pressed together.

Carmen through his hands out in exasperation. "Are you bein' fuckin' serious with me?"

Richie made his way towards the table where Tina was doing prep, craning his neck to watch. Your lips twisted, glaring harshly at Carmen. Carmen huffed, a hand running over his forehead. "What do you want from me, huh? What? You're just never gonna speak to me again? I forgot, ok? I didn't mean to, I just fuckin' forgot! I was at work!"

You glared at him, feeling Richie's amused gaze from over Carmen's shoulder, the rest of the staff pretending to be busy to hear. "Shut the door." You snapped.

Carmen flinched, shocked. "What-"

"Shut the fuckin' door, now." You snapped, slamming your laptop, turning to face him. Carmen pressed the door shut, ignoring Richie's whines of "c'mon, Cousin, it was just gettin' good!".

The two of you stared, neither being the first to talk, not wanting to break. You huffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "You wanted to talk, talk, Carmen. I've got shit to do."

"Hey," Carmen's eyes flashed at you, his tone hard with an edge of warning. "You better watch your-"

"-No, you better watch your mouth with me. Watch what you say to me, Berzatto." You snapped, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't a fuckin' game, alright? I'm mad at you. Actually fuckin' mad at you."

Carmen's stomach turned, swallowing the guilt rising with the bile in his throat. "I... I'm sorry-"

"-Sorry isn't going to work this time, Carmen. It's always sorry. Always I didn't fuckin' mean to, I got busy." You snapped, arms wrapping over your torso. "You always do this, but our anniversary? You forgot our anniversary?"

"No, I didn't forget." Carmen ran a hand down his face. "I got you flowers and-and the bracelet-"

"-And that was very nice, Carmen, but you weren't there." You snapped, the finality in his tone making his rebuttal dissolve in his mouth. The hurt in your eyes, rounding and pitiful, soft and pleading with him. You were angry, but you were hurt, too.

His shoulders deflated, breath leaving his lungs. "You're right," Carmen nodded slowly. "No, you're-you're right, and-and-and I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby." Carmen said sincerely, eyes shining with sincerity. "I... I got caught up and I-I shouldn't have even been working that day, I just..."

"I know." You muttered, looking down at the desk, a framed picture of the two of you in Copenhagen at your wedding ceremony. Carmen in his suit, you in your dress, happy and smiling with the breathtaking scenery behind you.

Carmen could feel the guilt growing in his chest, palms sweating and heart racing, the panic to fix it- to do something. "How much longer do you have?" Carmen asked, nodding towards your laptop.

"Just a few more things to edit." You looked at your paused work. "Why?"

"Let me... Let me make it right." Carmen sighed, shaking hands fumbling towards his apron.

"Carmen, you can't leave-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I can." Carmen nodded, pulling the door out and calling for Sydney. "Can you cover tonight, Chef?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can." Sydney nodded.

"I got it too, Cousin-" Carmen shut the door before he could hear Richie's full comment, sure something smart ass would be included.

"Let's go out." Carmen looked at you. "A make up. Please?"

You folded your arms, pouting lightly. "'m not dressed for going out."

"What're you talkin' about? You look beautiful, c'mon." Carmen shook his head lightly at you, shoving his clothes into his bag, pulling out his spare.

You tried not to drool at the sight of his chest. You'd missed him, you really had. It was a shame the lingerie went to waste.

Carmen pulled you out of the restaurant, hand on your waist, holding you close to his side. It wasn't the fancy reservations you'd planned, no Michelin star restaurants with expensive wine. No, instead, he took you to some a rooftop restaurant, one with the vibey aesthetic you always cooed at on Instagram. Sitting and sharing pretzels and greasy food, snuggled into Carmen's side while he ordered dessert. Giggling when he fed you the brownie sundae, tilting your head back with his fingers cradling your jaw lightly. It was simple, romantic, and fun. Made your heart swell, clinging to him the whole way home.

And when you got home? Carmen was in heaven. Letting you show him what he missed a few days earlier.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #richie jerimovich #sydney amadu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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mopopshop · 4 months

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headcannons about taurasi when reader and her are arguing , angst, possible smut 👀

Lost Love

Summary: DT’s late practices are straining her marriage to Aniyah (reader). As loneliness and unspoken words drive apart, both must confront their unraveling relationship and search for a way back to each other.

y’all this might be too angsty honestly LMAO but i’m actually kinda proud of it😓🙏🏾

send more requests!! i’m gonna close them after tomorrow

It’s once again another late night, alone, sad, and in the dark.

Diana’s practices have been getting later and later these past few weeks. You’ve tried to be understanding, tried to support her as best as you can. After all, you knew what you were signing up for when you married a professional athlete. But tonight, it feels like the loneliness has swallowed you whole.

When you finally hear the sound of keys jangling at the door, you sit up, your heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread. Diana steps in, looking exhausted and barely acknowledging your presence.

"Hey," she mumbles, dropping her bag by the door.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Another late night."

She shrugs, not meeting your eyes. "Yeah, practice ran over. Again."

There’s a tension in the air, thick and palpable. You’ve had this conversation too many times before, and yet, here you are again, hoping for a different outcome.

"D, we need to talk," you start, your voice trembling slightly.

"About what?" she snaps, her tone sharper than intended. "I’m tired, okay? Can we do this later?"

"No, we can’t," you say, standing your ground. "We’ve been putting this off for too long. I’m tired too, D. Tired of feeling like I’m not a priority in your life."

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a flicker of guilt before she hardens her expression. "You knew what this was when we got together. This is my career. This is important."

"And what about us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "Aren’t we important? I— I am your wife for christ’s sake!

She sighs, running a hand over her face. "Yeah I fuckin’ know that. I’m the one who goddamn proposed to you Niyah-“

"But it doesn't feel like it anymore!" you shout, cutting her off. The dam of your pent-up frustration and hurt bursts open. "You act like your career is the only thing that fucking matters! When was the last time we had a real conversation? When was the last time you actually listened to me?"

Diana's eyes flash with anger. "I am doing everything I can! Do you think I wanna- wanna come home to this? You think I enjoy arguing with you? Being yelled at after practice? I’m working my ass off every damn day to support us, babe. I'm giving it my all out there!

"And what about in here?" you counter, pointing to the space between you. "What about giving your all to this marriage? I feel like I'm just an inconvenience to you now, D. Like I'm something you have to deal with instead of someone you want to be with."

She shakes her head, her jaw tight. "That's not fair. You know how demanding this job is. You knew it from the start."

"Knowing it and living it are two different things," you say, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not. I can't keep sitting here every night, wondering if you'll even remember to come home."

Diana throws her hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Niyah? To quit? To give up everything I've worked for?"

"I want you to fight for us as hard as you fight on that court!" you cry, your voice trembling. "I want to feel like I matter to you, like I'm not just some fuckin’ second thought."

Diana clenches her fists, moving closer so now the two of you are yelling inches apart. "You're not a second thought," she insists, but the conviction in her voice wavers. "But I can't drop everything for you. I can't just walk away from my career."

"I'm not asking you to walk away," you reply, your tone desperate. "I'm asking you to find a balance. To show me that you care. To make some time for us, for me."

Diana's eyes narrow, her frustration boiling over. "Balance? You think that's easy? Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up with everything? To stay at the top of my game? I can't just turn it off when I come home!"

"And I can't just turn off my feelings!" you shout back, shoving her lightly. "Every night, I'm here waiting, hoping you'll walk through that door and actually see me. But jesus D, it's like I'm invisible to you.”

You turn down the hallway, stalking towards your room as Diana follows you.

“D, don’t fuckin’ follow me I’m done with this shit and I’m tired” you say exasperatedly and huff your way into a sitting position on the bed, trying to speak over her

"No! I am gonna follow you and I am gonna keep talking ‘cause that shit you just said isn’t true, Niyah," she says, her voice rising. "I do see you. But I can't always be here. I have responsibilities, commitments. This is my life!"

"And what about our life?" you counter, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "What about the promises we made to each other? Does any of that matter to you anymore?"

Diana looks away, the conflict in her eyes clear. "Of course it matters," she mutters, but the words sound hollow.

"Then why does it feel like you're choosing everything else over us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "I need you, Diana. I need you to be present, to be here. Not just physically, but emotionally."

She takes a deep breath, her frustration palpable. "I genuinely don't know what you want from me, Niyah. I'm doing the best I can."

"Your best isn't enough!" you shout, the words hanging in the air like a final blow. "I need more. We need more."

Diana's face hardens, her eyes flashing with anger. "And I need you to understand that I can't always give more. This is my career, my dream. I can't sacrifice that."

"And I can't keep sacrificing my happiness," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, D… I love you so so much— but I can't keep living like this. Feeling like I'm always waiting for you to remember that I exist."

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. Diana's shoulders slump, the fight seeming to drain out of her.

"I don't know how to fix this," she finally says, her voice low and strained. "I don't know if I can."

"Neither do I," you admit, tears streaming down your face. "But something has to change, Diana. We can't keep going on like this."

Diana looks at you, her expression a mixture of pain and resignation. "Maybe... maybe we need some space. To figure things out. To see if this can even work."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but deep down, you know she's right. "Yeah," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you should go."

Diana nods slowly, the decision weighing heavily on both of you. She turns and heads toward the bedroom door, pausing briefly as if to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she grabs a few essentials and heads back to the living room to gather her things.

As she leaves, the sound of the door closing behind her feels final, like a chapter ending in your life. You sit on the edge of the bed, the tears flowing freely now. The loneliness you've been feeling these past few weeks intensifies, and the emptiness of the house seems to swallow you whole.

You lie down, curling into a ball as the sobs wrack your body. The bed feels too big, too cold without her. You clutch the pillow where her scent still lingers, but it offers little comfort.

The silence is deafening, broken only by your muffled cries. You lie there, heartbroken and alone, wondering how it all came to this and if there will ever be a way to bridge the gap that's grown between you and the woman you love.

———

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wnba #wlw #uconn wbb #diana taurasi #pheonix mercury

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 7.1k

chapter summary: Everyone comes together to finally finish the renovations for the room.

warnings: phone sex but with visuals (does this make sense? i hope it does lmao), small injury, teasing, dirty talk, stripping, mutual masturbation, hurt/comfort, joel self-blaming, single parent insecurities, gray sweatpants kink do not judge me yes i know i have a problem, general insecurities revolving around having kinks, use of good girl, praise kink

Chapter Nine || Chapter Eleven

Hushed giggles and tentatively exchanged kisses linger into the morning. August is still sleeping, which means you have the perfect opportunity to sneak Joel out the door. You feel him all around. His lips on the back of your neck, and hands on your hips. Neither Joel nor you, wants him to go out that door. Joel stalls for a moment, cradling your face with large palms as he pulls you for a kiss. Your fingertips brush the doorknob. Your body melting as you feel his tongue licking over your bottom lip.

“This is kinda excitin’, sneakin’ around like this,” he says into your mouth. “When will I see you again?”

"You're acting like we don't live across from each other, neighbor," you answer with a humorous chuckle. His thumb swipes the skin right under your eye, and your smile grows in size. "But I'll see you this afternoon. Tommy is coming over, and we're going to carry everything into the room."

“Big day,” he hums. “You need me to bring anythin’?”

“Just your handsome self will be enough.”

With a sudden rise in his posture, he towers over you and pins your hips against his. Sweat beads at your tailbone, your insides clenching with the ghost sensation of his cock. His pupils are dilated.

“You sure know how to get a man all riled up, honey.” he rasps, voice dipping like sweet poison, you’d be happy to take. You shudder, an exhale escaping your lips. You feel him through the rough fabric of his jeans. Oh, the things you would give to have him in your mouth. You swallow instinctively, then, mustering all of your willpower, you open the door.

The morning sun pours through the door. Fresh, warm, and bright. The beam caresses Joel’s back and reaches all the way to your toes. A soft wind blows, ruffling his already mussed hair. You feel the growl resonating in his chest, the tremors seeping into your own worn out body. With a smile, you give him a quick peck on the side of his chin, the rough hairs tickling your lips.

“I’ll see you then, alright? And after that. . .” you drag a finger down his chest, gently poking his stomach. A puff of air escapes him. “We can have some celebratory fun.”

“I like the sound of that sweet tea,” he peers over your shoulder, briefly glancing to the living room as if someone might appear at any second. Then he drags his gaze back to you. “When’s your brother leavin’?”

“Tomorrow morning—and speaking of, can you drive us to the airport?”

He feigns offense and gasps, placing both hands right above his heart. “I knew there was a catch for last night. An ulterior motive,” he says.

“Oh, hush you,” you playfully chide, nudging him towards the door. “I can ask Tommy too if you’re busy—”

Joel is quick to cut you off “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll be easier.” he answers, taking a backwards step through the door. The sun now fully beating down his skin.

Do you hint. . .jealousy in his tone? It’s hard for you to make sense of it, especially after the very passionate night you two shared. But in the end, you know little about their relationship with each other. The thought makes guilt rear in your heart. Wrapped up in your own grief and feelings you’ve done very little to learn more intimate details about their past.

Noticing this, Joel pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. A lazy smile makes its way across his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer. He raises a brow, clearly not believing you. With a sigh, you drop your eyes to the floor. “I just realized I didn’t put in the effort to know you guys better. Which is very shitty of me.”

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart. . .” he says softly, his voice dripping like dark molasses. You do as you’re told and he smiles brightly. “We have a whole lotta time to get to know each other better. That’s what dates are for, so don’t worry so much about it. I’d hate to see you frownin’ after such a delightful night.”

“Dates?” you repeat slowly, eyes wide. He grins and your heart skips a beat.

“Yes, dates. You really thought I wasn’t goin’ to take you on one?”

Honestly, it hadn’t really crossed your mind. Having the luxury of seeing Joel whenever you wanted, even without the intention to bump into him, has made you forget about the concept of going out and learning more about one another. You just assumed “dating” meant any time he was around. Now that he addressed it, saying that he wanted to take you on actual dates. . . you’re excited, to say the least. Seeing him all dressed up for you, taking you by the hand as he showed you his favorite places. . . you can definitely get used to that.

“Okay I really should get goin’ now,” he mutters, briefly checking his arm for a watch that isn’t there. He holds your hand and squeezes it twice before heading off next door. You watch until he disappears and you close the door, a soft smile touching your lips.

You sigh and lean against the door. Some part of you wants to slide down dramatically, fully content in just thinking about him until the time you two reunite comes once again.

But you don’t. Instead, you head to the room. The hall is dimly lit, the sun not reaching the narrow space yet. You open the door and take a step inside. The painting you made of him is still there. Not that it could be anywhere else. It’s still unfinished. However, now that everything had been said and done, you don’t really have the urge to finish it. It feels complete without actually being so. You had buried your sorrow and heartbreak into this painting. Your sadness bleeding into the paint to create a disoriented mirage of the man you. . . liked.

Heat rushes to your cheeks— you really do have a problem with getting attached way too quickly, don’t you? Sinking your teeth into your tongue, you pick up the painting and lean it against the wall, the back of it facing the outside to hide what it was. It still surprises you that Joel figured it out from the tiny little bullseye you added. You had done it by impulse. And now you’re happy that you did. He must’ve been observing it quite thoroughly in order to see that little smudge.

“Well, good morning little sister.”

You jump, your head whipping in the direction of the groggy voice. August has his one eyebrow raised, his broad body leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He gives you a lopsided smile. Embarrassment rolls in your stomach.

“Auggie!” you greet him, albeit a bit eagerly. “Good morning!”

“You know that the walls are thin,” he says, ignoring your enthusiasm. A nervous laughter comes out strangled from your lips. “You know that and still—Still you decided to traumatize me.”

“I swear we were trying to be quiet.”

“God, I don’t want to know when you two aren’t trying to be quiet. Jesus. Thank whoever fuck created earplugs.”

To the untrained eye it would’ve looked like he was berating you but from the twinkle in his eye and unwavering smile, you know he’s just teasing you. Your shoulders drop and you shake your head with a grin.

“So far for keeping it a secret.”

His other eyebrow joins the other at his hairline, “Secret?” he parrots. “Why are you trying to keep it a secret?”

“There’s so much I have to tell you,” you answer. You lock your arm with his and start walking down the hall together, heading for the kitchen. “How about your little sister apologizes with chocolate chip pancakes and fills you in.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The Millers join you in the afternoon.

Before they arrived, you and August had baked focaccia from scratch and cinnamon rolls—well, it was more you baked and Auggie kept you company but nonetheless, you still thought of his conversation as a helping hand. And he did help you knead the dough so you had to give him that. The three arrive all together, Joel and Tommy looking like hell whilst Sarah was her usual chipper self.

When you open the door, you have to admit, it’s awkward. Your cheeks heat up immediately, your eyes flitting between the two brothers. Tommy enters first, his hand on your waist as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss on the cheek. His scent fills your nostrils. For a moment you feel like you’re drowning in it. In him. Your breath catches in your throat and you awkwardly wrap your hands around him. While your face is nestled right above his shoulder, you notice Joel’s fixed gaze. His jaw locked. You can’t tell if it’s from guilt or worry, you end up looking away.

Tommy pulls away and pinches your right cheek with two fingers, “How’ve you been sweetheart?”

Oh god oh god oh god

You can feel Joel's stare piercing through Tommy's back, his expression revealing a hint of frustration. How is this supposed to work if he gets worked up this easily? You and Tommy are close friends and you intend to keep it that way. Tommy calling you sweetheart isn’t something Joel should be threatened by. Perhaps there's more to their relationship than meets the eye, some unresolved issues from their past. If Joel was just nervous, or anxious, that would be understandable—so are you—but he shouldn’t be angry.

“I’m good, thanks,” you answer with a forced smile. “How was work?”

He points his thumb in Joel's direction without turning around. “This one,” he says, “worked me beyond measure. I swear I don't get paid enough.”

“Consider yourself lucky to be gettin’ paid at all,” Joel steps in as Tommy makes his way into your home. He leans in and brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. A shudder crawls up your spine. “Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he mutters.

“Yeah?” you swallow. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

Joel pulls back, his hands skimming down your waist, he stares at you for a second. You’re unsure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he must’ve found it because he smiles and nods.

He trails after Tommy, and you follow. The hallway is cluttered with furniture that you plan on moving inside, followed by some bookshelves, a desk, the bean bag chair Tommy bought you, and many many boxes. The walls were completely done, the colors looking beautiful and fresh. You come to stand at the thresehold of the door, Tommy and August laugh at something simultaneously. Your nerves buzz with anxiety. August understood the situation, the messiness of it. Despite that, he still said that you should just fess up and explain everything to Tommy. He just didn’t understand you weren’t ready to have that conversation yet.

Meanwhile, Sarah is looking over the boxes. Her nimble fingers moving over the jagged corners.

“Alright,” you call out, slapping both hands together. Everyone’s attention is on you now. You grin widely. “Let’s start.”

You’re sweating.

Salty water trickles down your spine, thick and uncomfortable, as it causes your oversized shirt to stick to your skin. You've always sweated easily. Bringing another box inside, you notice August propping up one of the bookshelves. He doesn't even have a single drop of sweat on that stupid face of his. Asshole. You place the box down with a huff, and Sarah opens it, starting to place the books and other knick-knacks on the bookshelves. You had given her full control over the placement of objects, and so far, it's looking good.

Joel, rightfully so, had placed some distance between the two of you. Careful not to cheat a glance while he reassembles the table. Tommy had been silent too. He was much more talkative compared to Joel, but you could tell something was on his mind.

August catches you staring at Tommy and raises a curious eyebrow. He gives you a barely there shake of his head, making you pout in response. After that, he shrugs, disappearing into the hall to pick up more boxes. You blow an exasperated raspberry into the air and push your hair back, grimacing at the way sweat clings to your palm. You groan, wipe your hand on your shirt, then stare at Sarah again. She’s fast with stocking the bookshelf. You’re impressed.

Or perhaps you were staring at Tommy longer than you thought.

Sarah steps back to admire her work, the gothic bookshelf towers over her, its dark wood polished to perfection. The shelves are narrow, but expertly arranged, showcasing an impressive collection of books. However, something is off. You notice the wood trembling slightly, tilting, and starting to give in to gravity. Your eyes widen and at the same time your lips part to tell her to move away, the bookshelf begins its ascend down.

Stepping forward, you push her out of the way. The bookshelf crashes down, books and small cutesy decorations flying in all directions. You manage to hold it up with your forearm, preventing it from collapsing completely. Sarah gasps loudly and you hear the three men in the room shuffling around, panicked.

You feel the weight of it in your arms as you struggle to keep it from toppling over. You hate to admit, but your eyes sting with involuntary tears. Your arm scrapes against the rough surface of the wood, and a small trickle of blood runs down your skin. You hiss at the pain. Your body starts to shake—fuck, just how heavy is this thing?

So focused on trying to keep the damn furniture upright, you don’t see someone rushing to your aid. The weight suddenly being lifted, you your legs fumble momentarily. Sweat rolls down the frame of your face.

You meet Joel’s gaze as the shadow cast by the bookshelf dissipates. Your eyes burn while they adjust to the light. Only after, do you notice Joel’s hardened gaze, his clenched jaw, and his tightly wound-up muscles. A soft gasp leaves your lips. One that can be easily misunderstood as a sight of relief. Joel props the bookshelf to its original place and a beat later he’s standing an inch away from you. Chest to chest. Your heart beats in your throat.

There’s a hand on your shoulder. August, your brain informs you. And the other smaller presence near you must be Sarah. You’re still staring at Joel. Too transfixed to move your eyes away. You think you feel the brush of his fingers skimming up your arms, but you know you must be dreaming it because his hands are glued to his sides.

“You’re bleeding!” Sarah says panicked. “I’m so so sorry. I—”

Her tone snaps you out of it. Forcing a smile you turn to her and touch her hand to calm her. “It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.” your eyes jump across her worry-stricken face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answers but that doesn’t stop Joel from cradling her cheeks, tilting her head, and looking into her eyes as he examines her.

“You sure, baby girl?” he asks, his tone proof that he doesn’t quite believe her. Sarah pushes his arms away and looks down at his socked feet. She nods.

Tommy takes your hand, looking over your arm. Goosebumps rise over your skin. A tingle buzzing at the base of your spine. “You’ll live,” he says with a grin and a wink. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles from you.

“I wasn’t aware you had a medical degree.”

He rolls his eyes and your heart feels a ton lighter. You’ve missed joking around with him like this, you’ve missed him.

“Either way you should get patched up,” August chimes in, always the voice of reason. You have half the mind to stick your tongue at him but don’t. “You have a first aid kit, right?”

“By kit if you mean stuff I randomly picked up from the drug store that I threw in a basket then yes.”

He narrows his eyes, parting his lips. You know what he’s going to say. He’s going to say; Come on let’s go, I’ll patch you up. But before he can, Joel steps in, his eyes not once turning to you.

“I’ll help you out,” he says. It resembles more of a grunt rather than a sentence uttered out of kindness. “Lead the way.”

Tommy opens his mouth, words crawling up the back of his throat. You don’t hear anything. August smacks a hand over his shoulder and gestures toward the door. “You two get cleaned up, the three of us will get this mess sorted,” his eyes briefly move over the scattered books, landing on the bookshelf with squinted eyes. “And we’ll fix the bookshelf up too.”

“Yeah,” Tommy follows up, turning to Joel. “Take care of her.”

“You know I will.”

There’s a weird tension in the air. Tommy’s words make you flail for a moment, the blossoming pain in your arm fading to the background, only leaving a sizzle. The brother's eyes lock with each other. A silent conversation takes place. For a moment you think Tommy knows. Your shoulders raise and an impossibly short moment feels like hours. August and Sarah seem to miss it, already starting to pick up the books and placing them neatly over the fluffy carpet. Some hopeful part of your wants to believe this is Tommy giving his blessing. But another part is telling you that it might be the opposite. A warning to his big brother, asking him not to harm what was his.

You should be offended, in all honesty.

Before you can add anything, the silent conversation is over. Tommy goes to inspect the bookshelf and Joel softly touches your unwounded warm. Taking this as your cue, you lead the way to the first-floor bathroom. One you are sure he is already familiar with.

He closes the door behind you. The soft click making your cheeks grow warm. There’s two bathrooms in the house in this is the smaller one. The sink is right next to the toilet and that’s followed up by a small shower that no one uses. Across from the toilet is a washing machine. Wanting to make the space a bit homier, you’d thrown over a handmade sown colorful tablecloth made by your grandmother on top of the machine.

Your head spins at the close proximity. You feel Joel right behind you, his body imposing and large. Knowing that the small basket is under the sink, you start to kneel down. Much to your surpirse your movement is stilled by the pressure of Joel’s palm on your stomach.

“You sit, I’ll take it out. I don’t want you fallin’ over.”

He sounds rough. Frustrated almost. It’s a surprise to you that he does. You did save his daughter after all, how dramatic sounding that might be. A grunt leaves him as he kneels down. Your heart clenches. It feels like he’s avoiding you and you hate that. You know he did it before in order not to raise suspicion but now you two were alone. Shouldn’t he be talking to you? Touching you? Kissing you? Isn’t that how it works? Your gaze slowly drops to the angry mark on your skin. Blood caked at the corners. It’s weird really. You rarely get wounded. Yet you’re calm. The feeling of pain is like second skin and it makes you uncomfortable. Like a telling of a future that hasn’t been written yet.

You don’t notice Joel standing with the small first aid basket. He looks down. A moment later rough knuckles brush your warm cheek. You lean into the touch. He smiles.

“Does it hurt?”

“A bit,” you lie. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizin’?” Once again he kneels, getting between your thighs. You spread them for him, ignoring the heat settling between your legs. He places the basket on the marble floor and takes your arm to inspect it.

“I don’t know yet. I feel like whatever is going through your head might be my fault.”

“Well, it ain’t,” he says calmly and pops the bottle of antiseptic solution. “This might sting a little.”

It does. But you don’t really mind it. Joel gently cleans the wound, and the angry shade of blood is replaced with a raw visual of skin. He starts unwrapping the gauze.

“I should be thankin’ you. You pushed Sarah out of the way, I saw.” his voice trembles towards the end, it’s such a subtle change of tone that you almost miss it. He wraps the bandage neatly around your arm, the pain now gone. “She hates it when people fuss over her. Hates it even more when she makes a mistake.”

You open your mouth to say she didn’t make a mistake, it was just faulty furniture. Joel cuts you off before you can. “I hate to admit, but that might be my fault. She takes care of me too. Some days it feels like we’re more like roommates than actual father and daughter. She had to grow up too fast because of me.”

You allow the words to sink in. It’s more painful compared to the wound gently simmering under the gauze. His hand moves from your arm to your thigh. He gently squeezes the muscle, yet still refuses to answer your gaze. You can relate to what Sarah has been going through and you’re sure August would too. It’s hard knowing that one of the two that brought you into this world refuses to be with you, take care of you. To deny their love and affection. Your stomach clenches.

Letting out a soft exhale, your curl your fingers around Joel’s hand. You notice the way his jaw ticks.

“You’re too hard on yourself. It’s not your fault. You had her when you were young right? You did your best and she turned out great. No matter what, you’re here and her mother is not. I see this, I’m sure Sarah does too. You’re a caring father Joel. Sarah loves you. I know.”

“I don’t want to be let off the hook that easily.”

“Joel. . . Hey, look at me—” You lower your voice and cup his jaw with your other hand, lifting his face up. He finally allows himself to meet your gaze. You smile. “No one is letting you off the hook. I’m just stating what it is. Ever since I’ve met you I watched you trying to give her the best life that you can. You make time for her. Love her. You have pizza days and bake brownies together. If half of the parents did what you did, therapists would be out of a job.”

You’re honestly not sure if he’s convinced. But he humors you nonetheless. Joel leans into your touch, his beard rough against the softness of your palm. A shiver settles at the base of your spine. A pleasant tingle. His lips mold over the heel of your hand, a soft purse of his lips following. Your eyes eat up the movement of his lips as it stretches into a warm smile.

“This is going to sound odd but I ever since I met you, despite the dumb shit I did, I felt lighter. Somehow. I think I now know why.” Another kiss, this time placed upon the center of your palm. A soft moan escapes your lips. “You’re my rock, honey. Thank you.”

“I can say the same about you,” you grin. “My night in shining armor, rescuing me from evil bookshelves.”

He hums, “Don’t remind me. I have half the mind to put it through the woodchipper.”

“Joel Miller, don’t you dare,” both of you laugh, yet there’s still tension lingering and swirling in your body. His thumb moves over the gauze. Up and down. He feels the fabric. “By the way, what was that weird silent moment with Tommy? He doesn’t know, does he?”

“No—I mean I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him. Did you?”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just some friendly brotherly tension. It’s normal. And Miller men tend to be a bit possessive.”

You chuckle, “You say that almost proudly.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he smirks and you feel the tips of your ears burning. “When I say possessive, I don’t mean we’re gonna lock you in a room. We protect our own. That’s good.”

You can’t help the snort that escapes your lips. “Ah yes, I forgot there were ghouls and monsters outside that we, damsels in distress, need protecting from.”

“Brave words from someone who calls me over when they see a cockroach.”

You narrow your eyes, “You swore you would never mention it.”

“I wasn’t aware that included you too.”

You playfully roll your eyes and he brushes his lips over your knuckles. They’re chapped and worn from the painting you’ve been doing of late. The rough surface of the canvas rubbing the skin raw. The small hairs above his upper lip sends shivers up your spine. Without wanting to, you clench your legs, gooseflesh prominent over your skin. The already tiny bathroom feels smaller somehow. You find yourself leaning into him as his eyes find your own. Soft drops of dark coffee reflecting the stars. His smile reminds you of a full moon. Filling you with gratitude that it’s there during a late night.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes glazing over. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You almost laugh when he actually works his mind for an answer, his hand coming up to scratch his scruffy cheek. The sound deafening in the small space.

It takes him only a second to decide that the answer is absolutely nothing.

The room was finally finished.

Despite the hiccups along the way, it was done. Everyone, except for Sarah, celebrated with cold beers and the treats you had made prior to when the Millers had arrived. Sarah, who had a frown similar to her father's, slowly loosened up when you brought out the cinnamon rolls. The focaccia was slightly burnt, but everyone enjoyed it nonetheless. And after an evening of laughter and filling stomachs with delicious food, the Millers left. August prematurely thanked Joel for the ride he would be giving him early in the morning before the older Miller left. The two of you climbed upstairs, argued about who should use the bathroom first, and retired to your rooms.

You had actually planned on looking over the renovated room before bed but your muscles ached and you felt positively exhausted from a day well lived.

What you don’t expect, however, is for the phone to ring.

“Hello?” you say into the receiver. “Joel?”

“Hey sweetheart,” a modulated deep voice follows. “Look out the window.”

With a smile, you step closer to the window. A soft and gentle light embraces the space of his room. The hue of the light is a delicate fusion of a tender shade of crimson, as if infused with the gentle blush of a lover's kiss, and a mellow, yellowish glow that evokes the subtle warmth of a peaceful summer evening. You notice the firm body that stands in the middle of the window. Shadows dance over his being, half of him buried in a warm darkness. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt that has three buttons, all of them open, exposing more of his sunkissed skin. His gray sweatpants hang low over his hips. He looks soft and comfortable. Reminding you of delicate pastels.

“So. . .” he clears his throat, his voice awakening something deep in the pit of your full stomach. “Whatcha wearin’?”

You snicker and shake your head, “Joel. . . You can see me.”

“Sorry,” you can both see and hear the smile in his voice. “I never know how to start these things.”

“Did you change the lights?” you ask, ignoring the heat bursting all over your skin. Did he call you for phone sex? You try not to look too hopeful. “It looks nice.”

“Thanks. I have a couple of settings actually, I would have to claw my eyes out if I had to use the actual yellow light all the time.”

“Careful, Miller. It sounds like you’re trying to build up to something.”

“What if I am tryin’ to build up to somethin’?”

God, his voice. It’s so smooth and raspy. Your head spins a bit and you regret that the bed isn’t closer to the window.

“You look a bit warm, honey,” his voice drips like thick molasses. His tongue slowly rolling over each and every word. As if he can taste it. “Maybe you should. . . take off your shirt.”

You’re hot and bothered. Slick already gathered between your legs, the fabric of your underwear sticking to your skin. But despite it all—the heat, the sound of his voice, the growing ache between your legs— you let out a loud, unattractive laugh that you subdue quickly with the back of your hand. You hear him let out a low chuckle as well. A sound that makes your legs shake.

“Are you asking me to strip?”

“Perhaps.”

“Only if you do the same, handsome.”

“Alright, I reckon we make this interestin’,” he coos. You can’t see clearly but you like to imagine he has one of his eyebrows raised. “How about we play a little game? Strip for each other, put on a show to see who breaks first?”

“Hmmm, I do like games,” you answer, tapping the plush of your bottom lip with your forefinger. “But it won’t really be fun if there isn’t a reward. . .”

“Smart girl,” he breathes out slowly. “If I win, I get to play with you however I want. And you have to take it.” before the heat can settle at your lower back, he quickly adds. “Unless what I’m askin’ isn’t to your likin’ of course. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“You almost make me want to lose the game, Joel. Very enticing,” you say, your lips breaking out into a cat-like grin. “If I win I want to roleplay.”

“Roleplay?” he chokes on the word, which only makes your smile broader. “Roleplay as what?”

“Undecided.”

You’re relieved when you hear the familiar sound of his laughter. You genuinely have no idea what you would want him to roleplay as, you had just blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. Overexcited with the prospect of the game. When he speaks again, his tone is laced with something dark and heavy. You attempt to indistinctively rub your thighs together. You hope he doesn’t notice how near the edge you are already.

“Alright, honey. Take off your shirt.”

With a short nod, you place the phone on the desk briefly to take off your shirt. You hiss as the cold air caresses your pebbled nipples. Already hard and aching. You pick the phone back up. Joel breathes heavily.

“No bra?”

“I would never sleep with a bra. Too uncomfortable.”

“Shiiit,” he groans out, large hand moving down to cup himself through his gray sweatpants. “Squeeze them for me, sweetheart. Play with your nipples.”

“O-Okay.”

You underestimated how hot this would be. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you tuck the phone between your shoulder and ear. You gingerly cup both breasts and start to knead them, your thumbs brushing over the peaks. A soft sigh escapes you. You eat up the way Joel is watching you. His eyes glued to your chest, his hand stroking his cock sideways, the outline of his length visible from where you stand. You swallow.

“Now you,” you mutter. “Do the same.”

He swiftly takes off his shirt, your eyes instinctively drop to the swell of his stomach. Your hands longing to caress his flushed skin. “Now what?” he asks.

“Spread your hand over your stomach, really feel the skin under your fingertips,” your ears burn with embarrassment but you can’t help yourself. Your mouth waters. “After that softly drag your nails down your chest.”

When he complies without hesitation, you grow more comfortable with the situation unfolding in front of you. Joel strokes the soft flush of his stomach, slides his hand up his torso, and then drags his nails down the expanse of his chest. You pinch a nipple. A moan echoes from the back of your throat and you swear you see his hips jerk into the air.

“Are you hard for me Joel?” you say, lips brushing against the end of the phone. “Tell me how bad you wish I was there.”

“So bad,” he grunts unintelligently. He drags his nails down again, shuddering when he applies more pressure than before. “I’m hard as a goddamn rock. I wish you could feel it for yourself. I’m a mess under there.”

“I love messes,” you hum. “Can I touch myself?”

“Fuck,” he groans and spreads his legs. “Sure, sweetheart. I wanna see you—all of you, bare as the day you were born.”

You move to do as he says and with the corner of your eye, you notice movement from the other window. You click your tongue and he stills.

“I didn’t ask you to do the same,” you warn without any real threat behind it. He licks his lips and straightens up. “Stroke yourself through your sweats. I. . .” you clear your throat, your shyness coming back with full force. “Uh. . .”

“You want me to edge myself?” he adds for you. His tone is softer, more like he’s comforting you rather than trying to seduce you. Kicking your pajama pants and underwear to the side, you meet his gaze. “It’s okay honey. You don’t need to be shy when you tell me what you want. Especially not now.”

“I guess not, Sorry about that,” a nervous laughter escapes you. You feel the haze of arousal slowly starting to dissipate, making you hyper-aware you’re standing butt-naked in the middle of your bedroom. A chill settles over your skin and you wrap your arms around yourself. You think you see Joel’s frowning. You might have a clear view into his room but detecting facial expressions are always tricky. His sigh vibrates in your ear.

“If you want to stop we can,” he says trying to be helpful. You shake your head. You don’t want to stop. You really don’t. But it wouldn’t be the first time you make a fool of yourself when asking for something. “Okay then,” he speaks slowly, tenderly. Your heart melts. “You know I really liked that.”

“Liked, what?”

“The draggin’ the nails thing. I rarely indulge, I definitely didn’t before. Until I met you. You make me want to take pleasure even in the smallest things—the smallest moments. I want you to feel the same, darlin’. I don’t want you to think you need to hide anythin’ from me.”

“Really?”

You hate the way your voice cracks. Hate the way your lips form a shaky smile. You don’t want to be this shy, nervous little thing. It’s hard when even the slightest care from someone—from him—turns you into a puddle of emotions. He continues to speak. You only focus on the tone of the voice, of the feeling in it. He reaches into your chest, takes out something bright. And that brightness warms you both. Joel tells you to touch yourself, to rub that pretty clit of yours, and before you know it, you’re doing exactly that. Pleasure heats up your shivering body. You swallow down your moans as they become louder, puffs of uncontrollable air parting your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels, tell me what to do.”

“It feels good,” you say between pants. “Would be better if it was your fingers but still it feels very nice,” your knees buckle, a jolt of electricity rushing up and down your spine. “Jerk yourself off but don’t remove the sweatpants.”

He groans into the phone when he finally wraps his fingers around his aching cock. Joel slightly hunches over, his fist jutting through the fabric every time he strokes himself. You’re only slightly guilty about not telling him to strip entirely. You bet his cock looks delicious; the head dripping with precome. But the hidden aspect of it is far too good to pass up. It’s desperate and raw. Your brain musters up an image of him coming home late, tired, thinking of you. . . his cock half-hard all day. Too lazy to take care of himself in the shower or remove his clothes. It’s an image of pure hunger. Delectable. Your fingers swirl around your throbbing clit, your fingers coated with shiny slick.

“Shove those fingers inside, press your palm into your clit,” he commands, jaw almost touching his chest. You fumble for a moment, wanting to continue and come. “Now,” he growls and you jump, your walls clenching around nothing.

When you do as he says you stumble forward. Forehead hitting the glass as your legs begin to shake. You grind your palm into the sensitive bundle of nerves, your fingers deep but not nearly enough to douse the fire between your legs. You breathe heavily through your mouth. Every time your hard nipples graze upon the cold glass you shudder, your moans becoming louder.

“Fuck,” Joel groans into your ear. You force your eyes to stay glued to him, half-lidded as you watch his stomach clench and unclench over and over. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. You’re close aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, and your breath fogs up the glass. Despite your very being trembling with lust an idea takes shape in your head. “Joel—” you moan, a bit louder, praying to every god and goddess you can think of so August doesn’t hear you. Joel grunts. You notice his hand starting to jerk faster, more sloppily. “I want to see you come, please.”

“Nice try,” he breathes out a heavy chuckle and you swear you can feel it fanning across your neck.

Thankfully, you’re a stubborn woman. “Please,” you start to beg, catching him off guard. Your fingers move quickly inside of you. In and out, in and out. The wet sounds echoing in the bedroom. “You look so good, I’m—I’m about to come.”

“Good,” he huffs, sounding debauched.

You don’t yield.

“You want to hear it?” you purr, your walls tightening around your fingers. “Do you want to hear how wet I am for you? How turned on I am by all this?”

“Y-Yea, sweetheart. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.”

You must be possessed. That is clearly the only explanation as to why you’re pulling the phone away from your ear to where your fingers are buried. You fuck yourself deep, biting your bottom lip so hard that you fear it bleeds. You desperately wish you could hear Joel. But all you can do is watch. His lips are part wider, his throat bobbing with every sound that tumbles out of his lips. Your eyes drop to the movement of his hips. He fully grinds himself into his fist, a dark patch growing at the front of his sweats.

When your legs shake uncontrollably, your own hips jerking to meet the thrusts of your fingers, you place the phone back to your overly heated ear. You open your mouth to speak in hopes to push him over the edge, but you remain silent as you hear a symphony of oh gods echoing from the other line.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, I’m comin’, sweetheart—” he rasps between gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t believe what you do to me. I can’t believe I’m—” he cuts himself off with a moan, his own forehead finding the smooth surface of the glass similar to yours. “I’m gonna cream in my pants like some teenager—”

“I want to see,” you whisper and pull out your fingers, starting to wetly circle around the tender pearl of your clit. “Please come for me, Joel. You look so good. . .”

A strangled, choked out sound vibrates in his throat. Momentarily the hand that holds the phone is braced against the window, his hips stuttering into his hand uncontrollably. His voice comes muffled. He thrusts into his fist, once, twice. . . then breathes heavily through his nose, his lips trembling with a swallowed-down whimper. His chest heaves beautifully under the soft red hue, the shadow hallowing out his eyes.

Slowly, he places the phone back to his ear. His other hand is still hidden underneath his sweatpants. “Your turn, honey,” he breathes. “My sweet girl. My good fuckin’ girl. Come for me. You don’t need to hold yourself back anymore.”

You fall with the aid of his words spectacularly.

It’s a rush. A warm feeling that rushes up from your toes and reaches every nerve of your body. You’re completely pressed against the window now, your breasts smushed up against the glass. Somewhere in the background, you hear Joel telling you to be careful, asking you to take a step back. But his voice is so far away and you’re so lost in the daze of your delicious orgasm that his warnings fall on deaf ears. Slick drips down your wrist, the inside of your thighs, drops of clear fluid dripping to the rug underneath. You’re half aware you’re whispering his name, swallowing down your need to scream and feel his body over yours.

“Thaaaat’s it, gorgeous. Just like that.”

You grind down further down your fingers before pulling them out. Without much thought you drag them over your body, wet straks glistening under the artificial light.

“God,” you gasp, your voice hoarse. “Joel that was. . . amazing.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darlin’. You should lay down. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

You bat your eyelashes at him, sleep suddenly clutching at your body with exhaustion. “I wish you were with me,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stop looking at you.”

“I can come over,” he mutters. “Sarah’s asleep.”

“No, no,” you wave your hand and swallow, your mouth dryer than sandpaper. “We both have an early morning anyway. I’ll just have to suck it up,” you weakly smile, hoping he can see it. Your heart skips a beat when you see him smiling back at you. “Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

The line goes dead and begrudgingly you turn to your bed. Your mind wanders to last night when he was nestled behind you, his warm body curling around your cold one. You let out a sigh. You feel sedated but still, something worrisome lingers in your veins. You’re not sure how this whole thing is supposed to go. You can’t see the end.

And that bothers you greatly.

a/n: I for the life of me cannot believe I've written ten chapters of this series. And honestly, I wouldn't have managed it without everyone's support so thank you very much! The "looking through each other's windows and playing the dirty game" was requested by an anon (even tho I slightly altered it for the chapter) and I fell in love with the idea immediately. So a special thanks to them!

as for the roleplaying. . . I am open to suggestions! In fact please send me some because I have no idea lmaofdvf my only thought is making him cosplay as spider man lmaodfv so feel free to raid my askbox with suggestions!

thank you so much for reading, wishing everyone a lovely day xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #stay in bed #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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stvharrngton · 2 years

Text

roles reversed

a/n: I don't know what to say about this lmao idk what possessed me when I wrote this okay. again horrendously bad at titles

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k 🤡🫣

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), edging, sub!steve, also dad!steve bc I said so

“You all set, kiddo?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Got your backpack?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“Yes, Daddy!” your four year old squealed now, at Steve’s incessant badgering.

You watched the scene before you unfold, your daughter perched between your legs as you braided her hair ready for her weekend at Aunt Robin’s. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched Steve pace around the kitchen, hands on his hips. Domesticity really did suit him.

“Alright, all done, bug.” you said with a pat to her tiny shoulders and a kiss to her head, “Now go give Daddy a hug and kiss goodbye.”

Your daughter lept off the chair and skipped over to Steve, where he scooped her up in his arms. He spun her around as she squealed and giggled, pressing kisses all over her face. Your features turned soft, eyes all fond at the family you’d made for yourselves.

Robin arrived a few minutes later, barrelling your kid off into her car, promising her the most fun weekend of her life with her favourite aunt. She teased you and Steve as you stood in the doorway, urging you both not to get up to too much mischief during your weekend alone.

You all said your goodbyes, waving and blowing kisses to your baby as Robin reversed out of your drive. Steve’s lips were pressed to your temple as you sighed, that little pang to your heart that always came back with a vengeance when your friends would offer to take your daughter out for the day, or you would drop her with your Mom for the night.

Closing your front door behind you with a click, you slouched against the wood, Steve’s eyes trained on you carefully.

“So, what do you want to do with all this alone time?” you simply asked him.

He chuckled, stepping ever closer to you, “You.” was all he said, his large hands coming to rest on your waist.

You rolled your eyes at him, tutting, “Is this why you begged Robin to babysit this weekend? So you could get into my pants, Harrington?” Your arms encircled his neck now, fingers toying with the messy strands at the back of his head.

“What?” Steve feigned hurt, “A guy can’t want to fuck his beautiful wife, no?”

You giggled at his statement, “I never said that.”

It was true, it had been a while since you and Steve had an ounce of time alone together. No time for hands to wander and explore skin they had memorised, no heated make out sessions wherever you pleased without being interrupted by your daughter’s tiny cries.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” he asked, his nose skimming the slope of your own, his lips barely brushing over yours, “You could put on a pretty dress, get a nice dinner, hm?” Steve kissed you properly now, it was soft, sensual, sweet, “Let me spoil you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, his low sultry tone, voice like velvet, but you could think of nothing worse right now. Features twisting in conflict, your fingers drumming on the back of his neck.

“Could- could we do that tomorrow?” you spoke quietly, eyelashes fluttering up at your husband, “I kinda just wanna be lazy today,” you shrugged your shoulders, “with you.”

Steve chuckled, hands skimming up and down your waist, a kiss to your forehead, “Sure, we can do whatever you want, honey.”

And you did. You lazed on your couch all day, laying inbetween Steve’s sweatpant clad legs, nursing whatever junk food you had in the house. Doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company. When it came time for dinner, Steve ordered your favourite takeout accompanied with a bottle of wine, a random movie popped into the VCR only to serve as background noise.

Your head lay on his chest, his arm slung around your shoulders as he pulled you in close, his lips pressing kisses into your hairline as your fingers drew shapes on his thigh absentmindedly. They danced up the length of the muscle, skimming over his hips before delving underneath his t-shirt, nails scratching lightly at the happy trail that disappeared underneath the waistband.

Steve tensed at the gesture, his hand squeezing your shoulder in response. Your fingers continued their ministrations over his stomach as you shifted your chin to get a better look at him.

He pinched your chin between his finger and thumb, raising his brows at your pout, “What, sweetheart?”

Your eyes bore into his big brown ones, warm and inviting, “Kiss me.” was all you said.

The man all but smirked at you, hand coming to cup your cheek now, warm thumb stroking over the soft skin there before he lent into you. Steve’s plush pink lips encasing your own, skin tingling and mouth watering. Your fingers reached up into his hair, tugging at the unkempt strands. Steve groaned a little at the feeling, he kissed you harder now, nose prodding into your cheek.

You took the hint to push him a little further, moving to swing your leg over his thighs so you were straddling him on the couch. Steve’s hands came to rest on your ass, large hands squeezing the flesh over your cotton shorts. You licked into Steve, tongue pushing into his mouth to mix with his own, feeling the strain of his hardening cock below his sweatpants making you feel a little dizzy.

Your hands were everywhere, tugging on his hair, pushing on his chest, balling up the fabric of his shirt into your fists. Steve couldn’t think straight, his brain essentially mush, his hips rutting up into yours as he pushed yours down to meet his own thrusts. He felt needy, desperate.

Chest heaving and breath panting, you broke the kiss. Your eyes were glazed over with lust, desire, gaze flicking to Steve’s kiss-bitten lips and wild hair. You stood from his lap, fingers lacing with his own as he followed suit.

“Lets go to bed,” you whispered, leading him out of the room as you started up the stairs.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Steve quipped, spinning you around so he could plant his lips on yours again, walking you down the hall to your bedroom. You let him have this slither of control, his hands squeezing your hips as he kissed you with fever.

You smirked into the kiss pushing him back onto the plush mattress, his body hitting the sheets with an oopmf. Steve saw the change in your eyes, your usual piliant flicker now a controlling glint. A dark haze clouded your gaze as you crawled atop Steve once more.

Steve’s personality was dominating. The need to care for and protect those he cared for often transferred into the bedroom. Which you never complained about, he had you writhing and coming undone beneath him more times than you could remember. Sometimes though your roles reversed, and Steve was more than happy to submit to you.

Settling into his lap you pushed his shirt up his abdomen, lips pressing chaste kisses on the scars and freckles that decorated his skin. You pushed the fabric more before Steve did the rest for you, throwing the garment to the floor. Your hands revelled in the newly exposed skin, lip and hands exploring.

“Fuck,” he breathed below you, “can- can I touch you, baby?” his voice was shaky, breath heavy and cheeks pink, “Please?”

You gnawed on your lip, nodding in response, “Yeah, you can touch me, Stevie.” you hushed, discarding your own shirt before reaching for Steve’s hands to place them on your tits.

Steve groaned at the pet name you only used in times like these, the feel of your breasts in his hands, fingers squeezing and groping, finger and thumb rolling a nipple between. A soft moan escaped your lips as you keened above him.

Your hips rolled over his once more, lips connecting with the skin of his neck, skirting along the scruff of his jaw before settling on that spot just below his ear lobe, teeth sucking a mark he’d jokingly scold you for later.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, honey,” Steve admitted with a breathy chuckle, hands rubbing up and down your bare back. Steve’s words were sticky sweet, saccharine that went straight to your pussy.

“Mhm,” was all you replied, standing again from his lap to rid yourself of your shorts and underwear and you swore you heard Steve’s breath hitch in his throat. His tongue slithered out from his lips, licking over the red skin at your bare body.

“Want you to eat my pussy, Stevie,” you delcared, pulling on his sweatpants now, thankful that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His pretty pink cock springing free, a hiss left his lips at the cool air, “that okay, baby?”

Steve nodded fervently, hands reaching out to bring you closer to him.

“Ah, ah,” you tsked, “lay back down.” you demanded and Steve was sweating. Cock painfully hard and leaking already. Eyes wide and mouth agape as you climbed over his chest, cunt inching ever closer to his waiting mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned as you lowered yourself over him, his arms encirlcing your thighs as your hands came to grip the headboard above your bed. One hand coming to swipe the stray strands out of his face,

“Go ‘head, baby.”

Steve needed no further instruction, tongue darting out to lick into you like there was no tomorrow. He ate your pussy like a man starved, swapping between curling his tongue into your entrance and sucking on your throbbing clit. His spit mixing with your click, surely making a mess of his pretty face.

You mewled above him, hand coming to grasp and play with your tits, tweaking your nipple just right, “Makin’ me feel so good, Stevie,” you whined, “so good at this, making my cunt drip all over you.”

He groaned right into you, his ministrations sending vibrations right up your spine, your coil winding tighter and tighter. You glanced down at him, Steve’s eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed, focused, on licking and sucking everywhere he knew you liked best.

Hips rocking absentmindedly, essentially using Steve’s mouth to get you over the edge, his nose bumping your clit with every roll, “Shit,” you wailed, fingers fully tugging on his brunette locks to hold him in place as you fucked yourself on his tongue.

His hands squeezed the fat of your hips now, pads of his fingers digging into the flesh there, his bruising grip surely to leave a mark. His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feel of you using him how you damned well pleased, hips rutting up into thin air behind you. And Steve swore he could have cum right there and then.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you mumbled, hips now dragging your pussy over the flat of his pudgy tongue, the tip of his nose stroking your clit just right, the sight of his wild hair and dreamy brown eyes boring into your own essentially getting you over the line.

You writhed above him, head thrown back as your orgasm peaked, mumbles of fuck and just like that and yes, Stevie, all tumbling past your lips in a jumble of pants and moans. Steve kept licking and sucking until you couldn’t take any more, the overstimulation too much.

Moving off his mouth, you slid down his chest, sitting pretty on his stomach as you lent back on your palms. Chest heaving and forehead sticky with sweat, you took a minute to catch your breath.

The tip of Steve’s cock brushed against your back and he winced, throbbing and heavy. His palms came to rest on your thighs, stroking soothingly, snapping your gaze back to him.

“Kiss?” he asked, voice minute, and you giggled not being able to resist. So you leant back up now, hands braced on the smattering of hair across his chest as you pressed your lips together. You sighed at the taste of yourself on him, the wet feel of your slick covering his mouth and chin, glistening in the low light of the room.

“Baby,” he whined, “shit, you gotta- you need to touch me or something,” his hips canting upwards, his dick rubbing over the swell of your ass, “‘m gonna fuckin’ explode. Christ.”

You giggled at him and Steve could have cried, you truly were a vixen, he thought. One hand reached behind you, delicate fingers ghosting over the length of him, “Like that? Is that what you want, Stevie?”

He groaned, “Fuck, yes, fuck, baby. More, need more.”

You gave him a final squeeze right at the base of his thick bush, before swinging your body off him and switching your position so you were sat atop his stomach, bare core still leaking arousal on his skin, but you had your back to him, your body and hands facing his aching cock.

You bent forward, dragging your nails up his calves, over his meaty thighs, a light touch to his balls before dragging them up his shaft. Steve wailed from behind you, panting and whining and moaning.

Gathering spit in your mouth you let it fall from your lips onto the tip before you used a hand to spread it over his dick. The cool of your saliva touching him made him let out the most delicious groan, hips stirring and cock twitching beneath you.

You began to work him with both hands, twisting and gliding up and down his cock at an agonisingly slow pace, choosing to squeeze lightly at the angry pink tip.

Steve was already embarrassingly close to his orgasm, all the muscles in his thighs and tummy clenching and constructing. His big brown eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks flushed as he dragged his arm to lay over his face, incoherent moans of oh fuck and please, baby, please filled the quiet of your bedroom.

Keeping up your pace you began to work his head, your fingers a circle tugging up and down over the sensitive part of his cock, your free hand rolling his heavy balls in your palm.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whined, thighs spread wide beneath you, toes curling, “please be careful, shit, please be careful.”

You could only smirk at the neediness in his voice, tone a notch higher than usual as he keened below you. Your hand never relented, keeping your ministrations going, doing so well to unravel the man you were sat on.

Steve had to take deep breaths, deep pants escaping his wet lips, his hand coming to grab at the flesh of your ass, fingers digging into your skin as he pleaded with you, “Please can I cum, shit, please can I cum, baby,” he begged now, “oh, please please please.”

His thighs trembled on the bed, you felt him tense and you knew he was right there, one or two more pumps of your hands and he’d be spilling all over them. So, you stopped. You removed your hands and braced them on his thighs instead.

“Oh, fu-uck,” Steve’s whine was long and drawn out, drawing long shaky breaths in and out of his pursed lips. You watched as his cock twitched below you, angry and throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the tip.

His hands came to rest on your waist now, fingertips digging into the bare flesh of your hips, thumbs stroking up and down. Steve’s hips stirred beneath you, his feet planted firmly in the mattress as his knees bent. Desperately trying to find any kind of friction.

Your fingers ghosted over his shaft again, the pad of your pointer fingers finding his slit, spreading the leaking pre-cum all over.

“Baby, please, I-” he started, cutting himself off with a moan as you squeezed his head once more, “I need to- you gotta let me cum, shit, angel, please, feels so good. Can’t hold it.”

“Hm?” you breathed out, your hands building up the pace again, bullying the tip of his cock, “Need’ta cum, Stevie?” you asked, tone low and enticing.

“Yes, yes, so bad,” Steve’s thighs trembled, hips rutting up into your hands, “please I- I’ll be good, baby, so good for you, please.”

Your cheeks flushed at his admission, heat rising up your neck, your cunt fluttering at the affect you had on him. You could only imagine what he looked like behind you. Eyes glassy and hair wild, his face flushed red and lips pink and bitten.

Your hands never stopped, leaning forward again to dribble more saliva onto Steve’s cock as you felt his stomach and thighs tense all at once, so close to orgasm once more. He moaned beneath you, “Fuck, I’m gonna-” but you cut him off as soon as your hands left his cock again, leaving him on the edge.

“Alright, baby,” you spoke, lifting yourself from his stomach, your gaze flitting to the wet patch of slick you’d left on his skin, “I’ll let you cum, but I wanna see you.”

You finally got a good look at Steve, his face was tucked into the crook of his elbow, other hand fisting the sheets of the bed. His neck and chest was slick with sweat, a thin light sheen covering his skin. His mouth was hanging agape, breathing heaving with vigor. Steve looked so fucking pretty like this.

So you crawled back on the bed taking your spot between his stretched out thighs, you leant down to press soft kisses along the skin there. Your hand found his that was clutched around the sheets, your fingers encasing his fist, thumb rubbing soft circles there, “Y’okay, Stevie?”

He nodded, a throaty whimper escaping his lips. He unclenched his fist, letting his fingers slot between your own. Your fingers glided up the protruding vein on his cock.

“Words, baby,” you whispered, “come on.” Your tongue darted out to lick a stripe up the underside of his length.

“I’m good, angel,” he hushed, “just- please,” Steve cried beneath you, as your hands came back to his dick, stroking and pumping up and down, “please, please let me cum.”

Steve was gone. Unbelievably fucked out, vision bleary as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. Pain and pleasure mixing deliciously, head dizzy and moans incoherent. You decided you’d teased him enough, brought him to the edge enough times just to let his orgasm fizzle out.

“Okay, Stevie,” you hushed him, your hand continuing to pump his thick cock relentlessly, “cum for me.”

And that was it, Steve’s hand squeezed yours in a bruising grip, back arching up off the bed as all the muscles in his body tensed. His orgasm rolled through him like a freight train, his brow was furrowed as he whined and whimpered beneath you. Steve cried out your name like a chant, moans of praise and thank you’s left his lips as his chest heaved.

His hot cum spilled over your fist and his stomach as he rode out his high, thighs shaking as his head hit the soft pillows beneath him. Steve’s eyes fluttered open as he caught your tongue lapping up the remnants of his orgasm off your hand, a fuck whispered into the room.

You stroked his thigh soothingly, crawling over him to press a soft kiss to his lips. You felt him smile into the kiss, tongues mixing together lazily and languidly. You chuckled softly as you stood off him, leaving him with a kiss to the slope of his nose.

Leaving him to collect his breath on your bed, you grabbed a warm cloth to clean up the mess on his stomach. He chuckled lightly at the gesture, a soft blissed out look on his face, thoughts of how the roles are usually reversed.

You climbed into bed beside him, head resting on his chest as your fingers came to trace the moles and freckles that littered his skin. His arm slung around your figure pulling you in close.

“Y’okay?” you whispered into his skin.

Steve hummed, his lips pressing into your soft hairline, his fingers dancing up and down your bare back.

“More than.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #dad!steve harrington #sub!steve harrington #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfiction #k.fic #don't look at me #I cant-

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scrollonso · 6 months

Text

First Kiss (Race 5)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.9k words, angst, description of a car crash, drunk lance, fluffy ending) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I picked David Coulthard to be the cause of the crash because he DNF in Europe 2006 and bc he's no stranger to being yelled at for crashes, LMAO}

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Lance walked back into the paddock, engaged in a conversation with Nico. He had yet to get his actual drivers liscense out of pure laziness so the German was left to drive them almost everywhere together.

"Thanks again" Lance laughed, feeling slightly bad for making Nico be his personal chauffeur.

"Don't thank me, I only do it so people believe our PR friendships real" He joked, nudging the taller man with his elbow

"Ow" Lance frowned, clutching his heart "Words hurt, Rosberg" He looked down, trying to hide the smile on his face

"Cmon, daddy didn't tell you he's paying me for this?"

"No way, are we both being paid?" Lance looked up, the fake shocked expression on his face earning a laugh from his teammate

Qualifying was okay, Nico secured 9th and Lance got 12th (after a minor chassis problem that caused him to have to pit for half of quali)

Lance should've been upset but he didn't mind, he'd been in front of Nico most of the season so far so he was looking forward to letting his teammate shine.

Of course he wanted to win like everyone else in F1 but the last thing he was going to do was let it ruin personal relationships he was building, work was completely different than home, his friends were different than the coworkers he knew.

He greeted Nico warmly, congratulating him as Quali ended, wishing him good luck on the race the next day.

Fernando came over not long after, having secured pole position.

"Lancito, good job today" He hummed, patting the Canadian on the back

"I'm convinced I could get p30 and you'd still congratulate me" Lance laughed, wrapping his arm around the Spaniard

"It takes a lot of skill to do so bad they have to make a new space for you" Fernando shook his head, his lips slightly curved up as he spoke

"I'm just saving all my energy for the race when I overtake you"

"Oh, really? I'll keep an eye out for you then, mi sol" He said, eyes only leaving Lance when he heard his name being called, his engineer needing him "Good luck tomorrow, Lancito. Let's get you points again, eh?"

Lance nodded, watching as the older man left, feeling his heart flutter in his chest as he thought about how he was looking up at him. It felt nice having someone to admire in the sport as much as Lance admired Fernando, he was a great driver.

Time passed faster than Lance thought it would, before Lance knew it he was lined up on the grid, eyes scanning the cars around him, David Coulthard in p11 next to him.

As the lights went out and the race begun he sent it, overtaking into p10 almost straight away, Coulthard close behind him.

It stayed this way for a few laps, the Brit almost on his rear wing as they raced, he was just trying to keep him there.

It seemed as if everything was going according to plan until the pair reached turn 14 once more, Coulthard was sure he'd be able to overtake, speeding up and reaching Lances side just to be met with their wheels touching, Lance could feel it in his body as the drivers car made contact with his, his left back tire practically flying off his car as he spun out of controll, David losing his front wing as Lance spun of the track, causing him to pull off as well, tire losing air as both cars came to a stop.

They were on opposite sides of the track, the asphalt between them stopping any conversations from happening.

Once he reached the Racing Point garage he was quick to storm down the pit lane, tearing off his helmet and balaclava as he found his way to the Red Bull garage, Brad trying to stop the fuming Canadian

"Lance, Lance stop it. Come back to the garage we need to-"

"Fuck off, Okay? This is a fucking sport and a part of that is talking it out after shit like this happens. Believe me, I have some things to say to Coulthard." He practically spat, not meaning to take his anger out on his engineer but he was the closest one there

They reached the garage, a crowd forming as the two began speaking

"Do you feel better now? Fighting with me over tenth place knowing damn well neither of us were in the position to earn points anyways?"

"I know you're a rookie so you might not get it yet but part of RACING is OVERTAKING, I was doing what I'm here to do."

"You're here to destroy my car and run me off the fucking track? Really? I find that hard to fucking believe, Coulthard."

"Oh come on, Lance. We all know your daddy doesn't have a problem with fixing your mistakes. That's how you got the seat, right? Daddy knew you fuck up too much to get a seat so he bought two for you and Keke Rosbergs son."

"You have a lot of fucking nerve, Coulthard. You know that?" Lance got closer, he already wasn't finishing the race so how much harm would a little physical contact outside of the car cause?

By now both of the teams where trying to stop the drivers, yelling and trying to get between the two men, blinded by anger towards one another

The race was slowly finishing, Fernando ending up in p2 as the fight was still going on, Lance screaming into the 35 year olds face as he scoffed, refusing to apologize, Lance didn't think of himself as a violent person but he wasn't going to stand around and let some ugly arrogant prick disrespect him and refuse to admit the crash was his fault.

"YOU RUINED THE RACE FOR THE BOTH OF US." All he wanted was for that to get through the Englishmans thick fucking skull "God, you're a fucking fils de pute." He spoke under his breath, astonished at the audacity of the racer "You know, for someone who's been racing for twelve years and hasn't even come close to a world championship you sure are a stuck up cunt."

And with that Lance was finally pulled away from the garage, David Coulthard having nothing to say in response.

Lance felt like he was getting scolded for hours, even if it was only 15 minutes, the team trying to explain how he shouldn't have done that even if it was Coulthards fault

"Lancito?" He heard a familiar voice, being snapped away from his thoughts as he shot up, leaving members of the team in the middle of their sentences to go to Fernando

"Thank fucking god you're here. Are you thirsty? I'd kill for a drink right now"

"Lancito, Are you sure drinking is the best thing for you to do now?" He questioned as if he wasn't still following behind him

"What, do you think I'm being dramatic too?" He scoffed, stopping in his tracks to turn back to Fernando, he looked mad to anyone else but Fernando knew he was just hurt, Lance hated crashes, hated not finishing, hated disappointing people, and even though the last thing Fernando was was disappointed in the boy he knew Lance would still think he was.

"Let's get you that drink, mi sol. Getting your mind off it will help, eh?"

Lance expected to be taken to some cheap place around the city but instead Fernando drove them back to his hotel, deciding it'd be better to let Lance cause a scene in his hotel room rather than in some German bar.

The two drank together, Lances lack of experience and tollerance when it came to alcohol being painfully obvious.

"He's such a prick" Lance slurred, his voice more whiney than usual

"I know, Lancito, He really is." Fernando hummed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes stayed on the Canadian

"You're like my guardian angel, Nando, y'know?" Lance looked at him, lips slightly curved before he began speaking again "Never stop congratualting me, please, it-" hiccup "It means a lot"

Fernando just nodded, setting down his glass

"I-" He stopped abruptly, drinking more "I love doing good, when I do good I know you'll be proud of me" He ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed at the long strands covering his vision "I'm sorry- I'm sorry I'm not the best, Nando" He confessed, looking over at the Spaniard "I don't deserve my seat, but- but it's okay because I get to see you, I love seeing you win, it makes what people say about me worth it when I'm the first one you come to after the podium"

Fernando just listened, not saying much as it became more and more evident Lance would forget it all by the next morning anyway

"I-" hiccup " I love seeing you walk to me, passing all the girls, they're so pretty, it makes no sense why you walk past them for me, but i love it, seeing you ignore them and look at me like I'm prettier than all of them" hiccup

He smiled, not being able to help it as he heard the younger ramble on, glad he was no longer stuck on being upset about the crash

"Don't stop, Nando"

"Hm?" Fernando hummed, watching Lance set down his glass. He took that as a chance to stand up and snatch it away, figuring the younger man had drank enough. Fernando and Lance were now closer, Fernando looking down at Lance as he awaited a response

"Looking at me like this, taking care of me how you do, please don't leave me, Nando" He begged, reaching out for the Spaniards arm "Promise me you'll never stop congratulating me after races, please Nando, I need you."

He was taken aback by the sudden change in tone Lance had brought to the conversation. Fernando swallowed dryly, staring back at the Canadian, he looked gorgeous, the waves of his hair messily laying across his face, the lighting hitting him just right to show off the gorgeous colour of his eyes

"Let's get you to bed, Lance." He whispered, helping him stand up as he walked with him to his bed, pulling back the covers with one hand while he held Lance with the other, surprised at how light the Canadian really was

He sat Lance down, kneeling to take off his shoes before instructing him to lay down and pulling the covers back up.

"Goodnight, Lancito" He whispered, brushing the hair from his face as the Canadian hummed a response, not fighting sleep as it took over him surprisingly fast

Fernando on the other hand was fighting, not sleep, but the feelings Lance brought to light with his drunken words. He hadn't thought much of it before, sure he felt different with Lance than he did with his other friends but he was so much younger that he figured he was just taking a more mature role in the friendship. Now he wasn't so sure.

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