#and you can clearly tell when you go through the tag of the series that they get progressively better

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @inej-ghafa-deserves-the-world @thatdelusionalnerd

If anyone wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's ptsd references, anxiety, violence references, blood, wounds, and fear of losing loved ones

Note: Oh my goodness we only have the epilogue left to go... this is insane I can't believe we've reached the end

AO3 link: Daughter of the Rain and Snow - Chapter 145 - She_posts_nerdy_stuff - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 144 - Kaz

At least the Crow Club was back in working order. Beyond that things weren’t looking at their best. Kaz knew from Anika and Pim’s reports that the damage was mostly repaired and they’d reopened the closed wing a few months ago, but he also knew from the income reports Yara had been sending him  that they’d taken a hit. Her projections looked sunnier for next month, but Kaz wasn’t feeling particularly confident. There was a nervous energy about the Slat when he walked in, still as rowdy as it usually was in these early hours of the morning but with a slightly frantic edge. Kaz had known his extended absence would take a toll, but he’d tried to keep in control of what he could. 

“I assume there are rumours going round about -”

“Your mysterious disappearance? Yeah,” said Anika, “We’re treading water trynna cover up for you being missing,”

“Anyone get wise?”

“To the fact you weren’t here or to what you were actually up to?”

Kaz shot her an unamused glare. Clearly he needed to stop telling Anika up to 50% of the truth, because she was getting too good at picking up what the rest of it was. 

“I don’t think so,” she said, “Not with any proof you weren’t around. Few people here and there are convinced you’re dead,”

That didn’t particularly surprise him.

“Any attempts at territory grabs since you last wrote?”

“Liddies are still riled up, but nothing new except a pretty hollow looking threat from Black Tips,”

Kaz sighed. They weren’t staying in Ketterdam for long, he’d have to get through work quickly and make a few choice appearances if he could spare the time.

As far as Kaz and Inej knew, the plan was for them to drop in on Jesper and Wylan for the afternoon, then go to the house overnight whilst Nina stayed on the Geldstradt. They didn’t have the space to have her at the house by the harbour - especially when Alyssa was staying with them too - and anyway she would only be kept up all night by Sadja. But apparently Jesper and Wylan had other plans, as soon as they were through the door it was all but a demand they at least stay there the first night. They’d even set up a room for Alyssa upstairs, so she was close if Inej or Sadja needed her.

“How are you feeling?” Kaz had asked, watching Inej’s hand find the railing on the porch of the Hendriks house.

“I’m fine,”

Kaz shook his head, looking down at Sadja.

“Once you can talk I’m going to teach you to shout at your Mama every time she says that,” he told her, gently readjusting the sling in hopes of helping her settle.

Nina laughed.

Sadja had done well on the boat, Kaz thought, for a stubborn two month old who had never travelled further than the Grand Palace until a couple of weeks ago, but she hadn’t slept well last night and still didn’t seem to be interested in sleeping now.

“Kaz, really,” said Inej, shaking her head, “I’m okay. I’m just tired,”

Kaz nodded, but he and Nina had shared a brief glance. Inej rang the doorbell and Sadja immediately jutted out her bottom lip in indignation; for a moment Kaz thought she was going to cry but she settled again, still looking a little grumpy. He readjusted his cane so that he could remain balanced whilst he offered her his finger, and once she’d acknowledged it he gently rubbed his hand up and down her tiny tummy.

“Do you not like doorbells, Sadja?”

“I think it’s quite normal for babies not to like loud noises, Kaz,” said Nina, peering over the sling, “You’re okay, aren’t you Sadja? You’re a brave little muffin,”

“Brave little muffin?” asked Kaz.

“Hey, that is just about the highest compliment I’ve ever given anyone,”

“Well, you are brave aren’t you Sadja? You’re just like your Mama,”

She wriggled a little in the sling, as though she was trying to look up at him properly, and smiled. Kaz glowed. 

The door had barely been opened when they were met by the practically shouted words:

“Where’s my niece?”

“Well, hello to you too, Jesper,” said Inej, sharing his soft laugh.

She leaned into the arm he offered and he kissed her on the cheek, ushering her over the doorstep. Kaz followed, nodding at Jesper.

“Saints, I’ve missed you,” said Jesper, hugging Inej again.

“Oh, I’ve missed you too,”

Nina cleared her throat, glaring teasingly at Jesper. He threw an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve missed you too, darling, obviously. And I guess I missed you Kaz,”

“Always with the compliments,”

Where’s Wylan?” asked Inej.

“Couldn’t get out of a meeting,” Jesper replied, shaking his head, “He won’t be long. Now, where’s this little Sadja you’ve been withholding from me?”

“Withholding-? She’s only been alive two months - and you were in Novyi Zem for one and a half of them,”

“Withholding,” Jesper repeated

Inej laughed. Kaz gently scooped Sadja out of her sling and into his arms, rocking her for a moment before he passed her to Inej so Jesper could lean over and greet her. He looked like he was about to burst with glee.

“Oh my goodness, you two she’s so beautiful. Aren’t you? Yes you are, yes you are,”

Jesper looked up at Kaz and Inej, grinning.

“She’s wonderful,”

“She most certainly is,” Kaz smiled, pushing the door to behind him before they walked together towards the living room, “It’s good to see you, Jes,”

“You too. And honestly you with a baby is quite possibly both the funniest and cutest thing I have ever seen, so thank you for that,”

Nina snorted. Kaz glared at them both. 

“And how are you?” Jesper had asked Inej, as they sat on the sofa together.

It was about twenty minutes later and Wylan had just got back, all apologies for being late and overjoyed to see them all again. He was now sitting in between Inej and Kiada with Sadja in his arms, smiling.

“Well, I haven’t slept in about two months,” Inej smiled, leaning her head onto Jesper’s shoulder, “But other than that I’m doing pretty well. How are you? - How was Novyi Zem?”

“I’m good, we’re all pretty good at the minute, actually. And Novyi Zem was lovely, good to see my Da, and everyone did a very good job,” he squeezed Aimee’s hand lightly, from where she was perching on the arm of the sofa next to him, “There were a few moments where we thought we’d have to come home early - that was always in the plan as an option, if anyone needed it - but we ended up staying the whole time,”

“How’s Colm?” asked Nina, leaning forwards to pick her coffee up from the table.

The conversation floated on, and Kaz had drifted in and out of paying attention to it as he kept his eyes on Sadja. She started wriggling uncomfortably and Wylan passed her back to Inej, then a moment passed before she started crying. 

“Is she alright?” asked Kaz.

“She’s just hungry,” said Inej, looking at Kaz in a way that meant calm down, she’s a baby, she’s going to cry, you do not need to worry as she stood up and gently rocked Sadja against her chest, whispering to her in Suli, “I’ll take her upstairs,”

At some point, Kaz wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been, it was only him, Nina, and Jesper still sitting in the living room. Focus had switched freely: the trip to Novyi Zem - two weeks with Colm followed by a month and a half through in Weddle and Shriftport, then another two weeks with Colm - Kiada had struggled with the boat, Aimee had struggled on the farm, Kiada has struggled in Weddle; news on the Ravkans and their new little prince and princess, twins about three months older than Sadja; Clemmie Boscht had started renting an apartment in the city and came to the house to share roast dinner with the family once a month; updates on something Kaz had forgotten to pay attention to as he was wondering how long Inej and Sadja had been gone and if he should go upstairs to find them. Now Nina was asking about wedding plans - the original date should have been last month, but it hadn’t been set in stone when Kaz and Inej first went to Ravka so Jesper and Wylan had decided to postpone and visit Jesper’s father instead of him coming out to them. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesper was saying, “Nothing will ever make up for the fact that Kaz Brekker got married before I did,”

Nina flopped against the back cushions of the sofa.

“Yeah, it’s a real blow to the ego isn’t it?”

“Aren’t you two just the height of comedy?” said Kaz drily.

“To be fair, Jes,” Nina added, “I think we were all surprised you weren’t the first to get married. I mean how long had you two known each other before you moved in, two months?”

“No, well I really only joke,” said Jesper, glancing briefly at the door and lowering his voice, “Wylan told me ages ago he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get married, after everything with his parents he just kinda… lost faith in it,”

Jesper had told Kaz about it at the time. It was years ago, around the time of the Van Eck trial, and Wylan was having an unsurprisingly bad time of it. He said he’d burst into tears and told Jesper that it had been evil of him to trap him in a relationship that would never go anywhere, and that he could leave if he wanted to and Wylan would understand. Apparently Jesper had stared at him for almost a full minute, and then said:

“Wy, you’re seventeen,”

“Well, clearly,” Kaz had said, “You handled that well,”

“I helped him afterwards!” Jepser had cried defensively, “That was just my first thought,”

Now Kaz sat behind his desk at the Slat, flicking through the endless pile of papers laying in wait and watching the hands move on his timepiece. Almost five bells. He wanted to be back by six.

Sadja had woken up not long before three bells, screaming loud enough to bring the entire house down. Kaz fumbled in the dark, searching for his cane, before Inej turned on the gas lights and handed it to him, smiling and shaking her head. They sat next to each other on the side of the mattress as Sadja nursed, and for about half an hour afterwards Kaz was still rocking her slowly whilst Inej lowered the lights and lay back down. Sadja seemed on the verge of settling back to sleep and Kaz stood to return her to the cradle next to the bed, only for her to immediately start wailing again.

“Well I hope you’re not still hungry,” he said softly in Suli, giving her a gente bounce “I think Mama’s asleep,”

She flailed one of her tiny fists into the air and it whacked lightly against Kaz’s chest.

“Not bad form,” he told her, “But you need more strength behind it if you want to do real damage. We’ll work on that when you’re older. What can we do to help you sleep now though, hm?”

Sadja wriggled in his arm and Kaz moved to sit on one of the armchairs so he could set down his cane and support her more comfortably. 

“I don’t have anything new to read to you,” he said, “But I could tell you a story if you’d like,”

There was a pause broken only by Sadja’s impatient cries, before Inej’s soft voice came from the darkness on the other side of the room:

“You know the whole idea of us using one language each with her whilst she's still learning kind of depends on you speaking to her in Kerch, right?”

Kaz looked up.

“Inej? I thought you were asleep,”

“Kaz, if you think anyone could fall asleep through this then I have serious concerns about your hearing. And, again, you’re supposed to speak in Kerch,”

“I’m still not convinced that’s going to work,” he replied, “Isn’t she just going to hear us using both with each other anyway?”

Inej groaned.

“It’s three in the morning, Kaz, can we talk about this later?”

He laughed softly, nodding though he wasn’t sure if she’d see in the dark. He’d known that he needed to go to the Slat - the last word from Anika and Pim had been concerningly vague -  but he could stay here a little while yet, couldn’t he? What harm would it do, just to stay here for a little longer? He sighed.

“You need to go, don’t you?”

He didn’t know how she did that.

“It can wait until tomorrow,”

“You can’t,” said Inej, quietly, “Go on. I’ll get her settled, just don’t be long, okay?”

“Never,”

He really needed to stop watching the clock, or he wouldn’t get anything done and have to bully himself into staying longer. It was a good while past five bells when he left, ignoring the shouts for attention that followed him from the crowd. The Hendriks house was mostly still sleeping, though Wylan was unsurprisingly up and in the kitchen making coffee by the time Kaz arrived at six bells. Inej was awake but she was still upstairs, not long dressed and part way through brushing her hair when Kaz knocked softly on the door. She opened it slowly, pressing a finger to her lips as he slipped inside.

“Sadja’s asleep,”

Kaz stood over the cradle for a moment, watching her. She really was perfect. Inej appeared next to him, her arm slipping around his waist once he’d nodded confirmation. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“She already looks like you,” she whispered.

Kaz shook his head.

“She’s beautiful. That’s all you,”

Inej shook her head then, her hand finding his and slipping beneath the rim so her fingers brushed his wrist. Kaz’s heart leapt, thinking of holding her on the floor almost a year ago, a knife in her gut and her blood soaking over both of them. He swallowed and she felt him tense, starting to pull away to give him space. His fingers tightened over hers, holding her to him. 

“We’ve not…” she hesitated, “We’ve not talked about a plan for where to live. For what to do next,”

Kaz had been avoiding the conversation, because he didn’t actually know what he was going to say. But it was a year ago when he couldn’t tell her everything he’d thought he should be able to say by now - 

Their happiness, together. In Kerch, in Ravka, they could move to the permafrost in Fjerda for all he cared. He would carve a life for her in the face of a mountain, if that was what she wanted.

- and so much had changed since then. He should be able to tell her that now. And he did.

Inej turned and leaned her face up towards his, glowing in the soft dancing light of dawn leaking through the window, her dark eyes shimmering. She lifted a hand up to cup his cheek, and slowly they leaned into each other. Their foreheads pressed against each other, Kaz’s hand slipped down Inej’s back, and their lips met in the warmth of spring and joy and a family that for so long Kaz had convinced himself he didn’t want, because he never thought he’d be able to find it. 

The entire world was golden.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Golden Ratio - Part Two

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, smut, virginity loss. Word count: ~4.7k

Chapter summary: Her and Michael struggle with the social side of university, and with each other. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @assortedseaglass. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is halfway through her second can of Carling, having downed the first as soon as Michael handed it to her, before she feels ready to speak.

In a rare display of empathy, he had handed her a lager the moment he’d opened his door to her, clearly having taken note of her miserable state. There isn’t a mirror in his room, so she has no idea of how puffy her eyes may still be from crying.

The beer is warm, but it’s doing its job and that’s all she really cares about right now. With every pass of the fizzy, amber liquid down her throat she feels lighter - she doesn’t normally drink, so it doesn’t take long.

“Go on then,” she says miserably, drink held in a loose grip between both hands as she perches on the edge of his bed. “You can say ‘I told you so’.”

“About what?” He says, eyeing her carefully, from where he is seated on his computer chair, turned away from his desk to face where she currently sits, the frame of it creaking slightly as he sits forward.

She exhales, keeping her gaze fixed on the ring pull of her beer. “Rich…he’s…he’s been cheating on me.”

“Oh.” 

Michael clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and for a moment she thinks he won’t say anything else. Her mouth turns downwards bitterly, thinking it’s best she just leaves.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear it.

Her head snaps up, eyes locking with his, and he leans back as though wary of her reaction.

“For what?” She asks, a mirthless smile tugging at her lips as she cocks her head.

He bows his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “I dunno,” he glances back up at her, “just something people say, isn’t it? When something bad happens…”

“I don’t want your empty words,” she tells him, setting her can down by her feet before resting back on her palms. “Tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“You’re already upset,” he states matter of factly, “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Fuck what you think!” She exclaims, shifting back to the edge of the bed. “Tell me.”

“Alright, fine,” Michael sighs, “I think Rich is a fucking loser, and him cheating is the best thing that could have happened–”

“Wow, thanks–”

“No, let me finish. He’s reading art, for fuck’s sake! What could you possibly have in common? You can do better, you’ve got a brilliant mind.”

Brilliant. 

In two years, Rich had never once called her that. A feeling of warmth passes through her as her eyes meet the vibrant blue of Michael’s.

“You really believe that?”

“I know that.”

They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, and she has no idea what possesses her, but suddenly she is leaning forward, pressing her lips to his. He is hesitant to respond, and when he does it’s chaste and uncertain, a marker of inexperience or unwillingness which she cannot decipher, so she pulls away.

But then he is chasing her, large hands cradling her head as he tugs her back, his mouth finding hers once more. This time the pressure is equal, their breathing heavy as the sticky sound of their saliva grows more significant. 

Moving from the bed, not breaking the kiss, she straddles his lap, ignoring the way the chair wheels back against the desk with a heavy thud. Her fingers thread into Michael’s short, sandy hair, as the embrace deepens, her tongue brushing against his. She grinds herself down upon the rapidly growing bulge she can feel beneath the zipper of his cargo shorts, causing a rumble of approval to vibrate from deep within his chest.

It feels good to feel wanted, but as their hands paw haphazardly at each other through their clothes, doubt creeps into her mind. If this is his first kiss, then it would be his first time too. He is her friend, her project partner, she has just broken up with her boyfriend. None of this is a good idea.

Reluctantly, she pulls away, sheepishly climbing from his lap. They’re both breathing heavily, and Michael gingerly adjusts his glasses as he looks up at her in silent question.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly, running a hand through her hair, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m a bit pissed and got carried away…”

“Oh,” his eyes widen, as he nods in understanding, subtly moving to adjust himself in his shorts, “of course. I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

She reaches out a hand, not quite touching him, but wanting to placate him as she fervently shakes her head. “No, no, it’s me taking advantage. I don’t want to ruin things between us. We’re friends.”

“Friends?” The way his eyes light up as he says the word makes her smile, hopeful that she hasn’t caused irreparable damage between.

“Yeah, friends.”

She needs that more than anything right now.

“So, what are you hoping to do once you graduate?” Michael asks, glancing between her and their collective notes.

It’s the day before they are due to present back to Professor’s Byrne’s class, and they have met in the library to go over everything one final time.

In the days since their kiss they have grown closer; sitting next to each other in the remainder of their introductory lectures and meeting up to work on their project, though they both know it is complete and needs nothing else doing to it.

She has grown used to Michael’s intensity, would go as far as to say she is fond of it, and genuinely looks forward to seeing him each day. Oxford feels far less lonely with him by her side.

“Something in the field of medical research,” she says, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the delicate softness of the petals of the sunflower head they’d cut down a few days prior. I read Professor Byrne’s paper before I applied here. It inspired me.”

“The one on biomedical systems?”

Her eyes light up as she smiles at him. “You read it?”

“Hmm. An interesting read, though I much prefer mechanics.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Yes, I think so. I’ve been reading a lot about random matrix theory. I’d like to go into the field of statistical mechanics.”

“I look forward to reading one of your research papers one day.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, though she doesn’t miss the faintest of pink that tinges his cheeks.

It’s the day of the presentations, and just as she’d suspected, almost every group in the glass has presented back a table relating to how the Fibonacci sequence creates a spiral. Her and Michael share a knowing look, a smug smirk of satisfaction on each of their faces.

Aside from one presentation, which did in fact focus on rabbits, but delved too deeply into mating habits to be considered mathematical, theirs is entirely unique.

She beams with pride as she catches the impressed smile of Professor Byrne from the corner of her eye as they stand at the front of the lecture hall, talking through their findings.

“Very well done, both of you,” she tells them as they return to their seats.

The compliment makes her heart soar, providing her with a rush that lasts long after the class has been dismissed.

“Let’s go to the pub,” she says excitedly to Michael as they walk down Woodstock Road, away from the Mathematical Institute.

“You want to go to the pub? It’s the middle of the day.”

“There are no more lectures today, and I feel like celebrating. We really impressed Professor Byrne.”

Fifteen minutes later they’re sitting in the Lamb and Flag. A bright pink straw juts out of the neck of her bottle of Smirnoff Ice, and she rolls it between her fingers playfully as she watches Michael sip his pint.

The pub is half full with other students, all either skipping lectures or making the most of a free period.

“I told you that focusing on flowers would make us stand out,” she says, unable to suppress her grin.

Michael swallows his beer, wiping his mouth the back of his hand once he’s settled the pint glass back down on the beer mat. “Yeah, you did. We made the rest of the class look like losers,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, we make quite the team, don’t we?”

He smiles, lowering his gaze and nods. There it is again, that adorable pink flush that dusts his cheeks.

“I’m gonna go to the loo. Will you watch my drink for me?”

He nods, watching as she stands and walks to the ladies.

Five minutes later, she can no longer see him at their table as she returns, though both their drinks are still there. She peers around the corner, seeing him standing before a larger group of students. A few she has seen around before, though they’re not on their course.

“So, is she your girlfriend then?” She overhears one of the guys ask Michael.

“No, not my girlfriend,” he responds, “but I’m helping her get over a break up, if you know what I mean.”

She swallows, feeling her heart lurch as she listens, unable to believe what she’s hearing.

“Oh yeah? Really helping her get over it, I bet,” the guy says, earning raucous laughter from the rest of the group.

She storms towards them, deciding she’s heard enough. Despite wanting to sound angry, her voice trembles as she speaks, betraying the tears she’s fighting to hold back. “I haven’t slept with you!” She shouts at Michael, meeting his shocked, wide eyed stare. “I would never sleep with you!”

Turning on her heel, the pub door swings open with a squeak of hinges as she pulls on it. She walks quickly down St. Giles’, swiping angrily at the tears that have begun to roll down her cheeks.

How could he? They were supposed to be friends and he’d talked about her as though she was something cheap. She had thought Michael was different to everyone else.

Back in her room, a hollow ache has burrowed its way into her chest, as she lays flat on her back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The high of that morning’s presentation is long forgotten as her mind races with thoughts of what she’d overheard in the pub.

Why had he spoken about her like that? Had he been pretending to like her all this time just for the sake of the presentation?

Nausea swirls in her gut as she’s startled from her throughs by a soft knock at her door. She knows who it will be before she even answers it, and is half tempted to simply ignore it, she doesn’t want to see him. However, curiosity gets the better of her and before she can stop herself, she’s moving towards the door to open it.

Michael stands on the other side, posture not as straight as it usually is, as his shoulders slope and he looks at her imploringly. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked remorseful, but he is too self assured for such emotions.

“What do you want?” She asks tiredly.

“I’m sorry,” he says meekly, his voice softer than usual. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she snaps. “So why did you?!”

“When you went to the toilet, that group called me over, started asking questions and I…I don’t know…I just wanted to feel what it would be like to be normal, just once. I–”

She feels anger run hot in her blood, nostrils flaring as he speaks and cuts him off. “I’m not here to act as your fucking cloak of normality, Michael! Fortunately, we’ve already given the presentation.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, brows pinching together with concern.

“I mean that the need for us to continue speaking to one another is over.”

She slams the door in his face, choking back a sob.

Fuck Michael Gavey. She is so incredibly angry with him, she wants nothing more to do with him. And yet she can’t understand why it hurts so much, somehow this feels worse than what Rich had done to her.

The next few days are torturous. She avoids Michael as much as she can, sitting away from him in lectures, looking away when she catches him staring at her. Seeing him online on MSN makes her heart ache, yet she can’t find it in herself to simply block and delete him. It feels too final somehow, worsened by the fact that she stares obsessively at his username, a part of her hoping a message will pop up from him. It never does.

Life goes back to feeling bland and lonely, with nothing to look forward to anymore. She goes about her days, alone, and then sits in her room, alone.

A week later and she is back in Professor Byrne’s class, only this time she seats herself as far away from Michael as she possibly can, trying not to think about how happy she’d felt to present beside him the last time she was in this room.

“So, I hope you all enjoyed your introductory project,” she begins, as she enters the room, setting her briefcase down upon the desk at the front. “It wasn’t just an exercise in presenting what you know about the Fibonacci sequence, it was a test of how well you work in pairs. That being said, the person you worked with will also be the person you are paired with for your upcoming tutorials with me.”

Her heart sinks.

No, no, no.

Chancing a glance over at Michael, she feels herself grow hot as she sees he’s already looking at her, and she quickly turns away. She had hoped to be able to avoid him, but now would have to spend an hour in close confines with him once a week for the remainder of first year.

Her heart races for the rest of the lecture and she finds herself unable to concentrate, hurriedly packing her bag and rushing to leave the room the moment they’re dismissed.

Unfortunately, Michael has beaten her to it and is waiting for her in the corridor. She bows her head, moving to step around him, but he blocks her path.

“I’ll ask for a different tutorial partner,” he says, “you needn’t worry about having to interact with me.”

She looks up at him, her eyes wide with shock. Her throat tightens as she’s met with the sight of his baby blues, boring a hole into her. “Don’t…don’t do that. It would look bad to Professor Byrne. We can both be mature about this.”

Silently she forces away the sadness she feels at him not wanting to be partnered with her. He’s in the wrong, not the other way around, she has to remind herself.

“As long as you’re sure?” He asks, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly feeling as uneasy as she does.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you around,” she tells him, finally stepping past and walking away.

“See you tomorrow,” he calls after her.

What?!

She rifles in her bag, pulling out her freshly printed timetable.

There it is. Tutorial - 9.05 - Prof. Byrne.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

She is filled with restless energy until the next morning. Her leg bounces involuntarily as she sits in the armchair next to Michael’s in the small, stuffy room of Professer Byrne’s office, who is seated opposite them.

Her eyes scan the shelves of books, the various notebooks that are fanned across the table, anything to avoid looking at Michael, until the older woman speaks.

“So, I hope you’ve both come with notes prepared to discuss the various ways of describing and displaying data, as discussed yesterday?”

Her face blanches. She’d been too distracted following the tutorial announcement to pay attention, and hadn’t heard her assign this. She has done no reading or note taking.

Michael glances over at her, taking in her worried expression. “Actually,” he interjects, “I think we may have misunderstood the instructions. We worked on this as a pair too, I hope you’ll forgive us just this once?”

The professor sighs, crossing her legs and tapping her pen against her pad. “Fine. Just this once. But I require individual work moving forward, you aren’t earning your degrees as a joint effort.”

“Understood,” Michael nods, rifling through his papers. “Here,” he says, leaning across and handing her a few sheets. “These are your notes.”

Slowly she takes them from him, her eyes scanning the pages, mostly graphs and tables of data, easy enough to understand and explain, without needing context.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, offering him a small smile.

The tutorial goes ahead without any further hiccups. Michael talks passionately and competently about what he’s read and the notes he’s taken, and she manages to talk through the data points he has provided her. If Professor Byrne suspects any unpreparedness, she doesn’t say.

Once it’s over and they step out into the hallway, she hands the papers back to him. “Why did you do that?” She asks quietly.

“You hadn’t prepared anything,” he says with a shrug.

“That was really nice of you.”

“It’s the least I owe you.”

“Thank you.”

He nods. “It won’t happen a second time. Come prepared next week. I want to hear what that brilliant mind of yours can come up with.”

There it is again. Brilliant mind.

She smiles at that, though her heart twists painfully in her chest as she watches him walk away. This is what she had wanted, she has to remind herself, he’d disrespected her.

Another two weeks go by, and though she is lonely it gets easier not having to avoid Michael. She finds their weekly tutorials are something she looks forward to, enraptured by how fervently he speaks about each topic, and preening with pride as he sits clearly impressed as she talks through her own notes and findings.

She misses him, though she is too proud to admit it. He had hurt her, and she’d told him to stay away. It would be humiliating to crawl back to him after that.

It’s Friday night and she’s in desperate need of a snack, so heads out of her room in the direction of the vending machines, running straight into a group of girls from her floor as they’re walking out.

Their giggles die down to silence as they see her, all offering her awkward, but obviously fake smiles.

“Not out tonight?” One of them asks, she’s fairly certain her name is Annabel, from what she’s heard in the corridors.

She shakes her head. “No, not tonight.”

“You could come out with us? We’re off to The Bull.”

She scans the faces of the other girls, all clearly less than enthusiastic about her presence, then shakes her head. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Oh, darling, I wasn’t asking,” Annabel giggles, grabbing her arm.

Less than thirty minutes later she finds herself squashed around a table in The Bullingdon, next to Annabel. She recognises Felix and Farleigh as part of the group they’ve joined, all passing around Jägerbombs and cigarettes.

She feels out of place and underdressed, in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. The rest of the girls are all dressed up in colourful, sparkly eyeshadow and low cut tops.

Amidst the din of their laughter and seemingly endless chatter, set to a backdrop of ‘SOS’ by Rhianna, she can barely hear herself think. She sips anxiously at her coke, pressing her lips together and shaking her head when Annabel jiggles the 35cl bottle of vodka she’s produced from her bag, asking “want some voddy in that?”

Her focus is pulled away when she spots Michael tucked away in the corner. He’s sitting opposite the guy she saw him with on the first night, whose name she has since learned is Oliver.

Her and Michael lock eyes and he gives her a polite nod before returning his focus back to his own conversation. To be so close and yet so far from him makes her ache.

Try as she might, her gaze keeps wandering back to him, unable to focus on the people around her. She watches with keen interest as he rises from his table, headed towards the gents as Oliver makes his way to the bar.

“Olly! Olly! Over here!” Shouts Felix, and to her surprise, Oliver skulks over, with the body language of someone who’s about to ask them for spare change rather than join their group.

She raises an eyebrow as Felix shuffles over, making space for him to sit down and wonders if Michael will join them too.

Her question is answered when he returns from the toilets, giving Oliver an awkward wave which goes unanswered.

“Shit sorry,” Felix says, “are you here with your mate?”

“Nah, he’s just leaving,” Oliver says nonchalantly, accepting the shot he’s been passed.

From the way Michael bows his head and leaves the pub, she knows that’s the furthest thing from the truth, and shoots Oliver a pointed look.

“‘Scuse me,” she says quietly to Annabel, pushing out of her seat and following after Michael.

The chilly October air is biting against her skin in juxtaposition with the sticky warmth of the pub, as she attempts to follow his lanky gait.

“Michael, wait!” She calls after him, hurrying her steps to catch him up.

He stops, turning to her, a look of defeat on his face. “Go back to your mates.”

“They’re not my mates, and they’re not yours either,” she says softly. “I saw what Oliver did to you, that was out of order.”

“The closest thing I’ve felt to normal since coming here is hanging out with you,” he tells her. “The rest of them are all vapid cunts.”

“Then let’s go back to hanging out again,” she offers, stepping towards him.

“After what I did to you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I miss my friend,” she says honestly, “come on, we’ll make our own fun, we don’t need those losers.”

He laughs softly, and for the first time in weeks she feels whole again.

There’s an odd sense of coming home as she steps inside of Michael’s room, the welcoming warmth wrapping itself around her like a familiar blanket.

“There’s beer under the desk,” he tells her, closing the door behind him.

She makes her way over towards it, pausing when she sees the papers on top of it.

A First Course in Random Matrix Theory for Physicists, Engineers and Data Scientists is printed in large font on the top page, she lifts it away, seeing that on the second is a simple dedication to her.

Her heart flutters as she draws in a shaky breath. “What’s this?”

“Fuck!” He exclaims, eyes going wide as he steps towards the desk. “I hadn’t expected you to come back here. I’d forgotten I’d left this out. You said in the library a few weeks ago that you’d be keen to read my first paper when I published it. It isn’t finished, but I wanted to dedicate it you, since you made my first week here so–”

She presses her lips to his, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks as she kisses him fiercely. Michael returns the gesture, long arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

“...so wonderful,” he finishes breathlessly, pressing his forehead to hers when they finally part for air.

“I look forward to reading it,” she grins up at him.

“Well, if you wanted, you could–”

“Do you really want me to read your paper right now?” She asks, gripping the front of his t-shirt and pulling him towards the bed.

“On second thoughts…”

He pulls her back in and their mouths meet again, desperate and needy as they topple onto the bed, tugging eagerly at each other’s clothing, quickly undressing each other.

Their pace slows once they are fully bare, and she runs her hands up and down the length of Michael’s sturdy back, enjoying the weight of his lithe body on top of hers.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

“I was an idiot,” he tells her, holding his weight up on his palms.

“Mmmm. The most stupid genius I know.”

He huffs a laugh. “I think I know just the thing that might cheer you up,” he tells her, moving down her body.

She props herself up on her elbows, watching with keen interest as he moves down her body, placing her legs over his shoulders once he reaches the juncture of her thighs.

He is hesitant at first, studying her closely, but then presses forward. She yelps at the sensation, all of his focus is on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex, and it feels electrifyingly intense with the motion in which the tip of his tongue moves against it. It’s too much.

She squirms, pushing him away with a squeal.

“Did you not like that?” He asks, seeming unsure of himself as he sits on his haunches, adjusting his glasses.

“It was a bit too much,” she admits, giggling slightly.

“Oh…sorry,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “I read you’re supposed to shape out the letters of the alphabet when you do that. I’ve always been more of a numbers man, so I went for Pi instead.”

She laughs loudly, reaching for him when he bows his head in embarrassment. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I just want you.”

“Come here,” she says, leaning over to rummage in her purse for a condom. “May I?”

He nods, shuffling closer as she tears open the packet. He hisses through his teeth when she wraps her hand around him. He’s warm and thick, foreskin silky smooth as she gently rubs her hand up and down the length of him, feeling every ridge and vein.

“Is this your first time?” She asks softly, as she rolls the rubber from tip to base.

“Um…yeah…is that a problem?” He asks, reluctantly meeting her eye.

“Not if it isn’t for you,” she tells him earnestly, free hand stroking his cheek. “Do you want me to go on top?”

He shakes his head. “No…no, I want to feel you.”

She smiles in understanding, laying back and coaxing him to move over her, spreading her legs to accommodate him.

He feels heavy against her entrance and she fights to resist the urge to cant her hips forward, wanting to take things at a pace he’s comfortable with.

His jaw slackens as he pushes forward, and she sighs in pleasure at the slow stretch of him bottoming out inside of her. Their breaths are hot against each other's necks as he stills, adjusting to the new sensation.

When he eventually withdraws to slowly push back in again, she moves her hips in time with his, encouraging him, and he quickly finds a rhythm. They are a clash of teeth and tongues as their mouths meet messily, hands exploring each other as the bed creaks beneath the exertion of their movements.

“F–fuck…you feel good..” he mutters, causing her to moan and her toes to curl, as he nudges against her sweet spot.

She could come from this if he keeps it up, and she can feel herself clenching around him as the beginnings of her peak approach. Right as she teeters on the edge, he groans, pulsating and spilling into the sheath that separates them.

“Sorry..” he whispers, looking at her with fogged up lenses.

“It’s okay,” she reassures him, her fingers stroking through the hair at the side of his head, brushing over the temple of his glasses. “It felt good.”

“But you didn’t…you know…”

“Plenty of time for that,” she says, pecking his lips. “Like I said, we’ll make our own fun, won’t we?”

“Get another condom then,” he says, pulling out of her. “I’ve still got some making up to do.”

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

summary: feelings burst. Fluffy. Fluffy fluffy. Eddie helps reader when she finds herself in a bind.

warnings: no minors gtfo- eventual smut in the series.

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

A/N: per usual thank you the my beta readers @sweetsweetjellybean

//

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

You were already late for work this morning and now this? Must be a fucking Monday. This must be that bitch karma’s payback for you talking shit about Eddie’s van the other night when he backed it up to the garage to unload some shit he salvaged from the junkyard.

“You would think that since you’re a mechanic, you could tune up that piece of shit so it isn’t so fucking loud.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, unloading another arm load of car parts from the back of the van to the middle of the garage, “don’t dog on the shaggin’ wagon, you know how much ass I get in this thing?”

The unspoken agreement you had with Eddie the other night after spilling your guts about your past, gave you more patience towards him than ever before. Instead of finding him repulsive, you two were almost friends.

“No I don’t and also I don’t care.” you say taking a bite of a ham sandwich.

“More than a public toilet seat,” Eddie boasts, “Ladies love it, feel like I’m Shaggy or something.”

More like his other four-legged snack-loving friend.

“I really hope you use a rubber, don’t wanna extend the Munson blood line anymore than you have to,” you bite back.

“Oh sweetheart, I always wrap it with the groupies, especially watching Jas bounce from Gareth, to Big D to Walt all in one night.”

“Well look at you, Mr. Perfect bill of health.”

Eddie smiles widely a stupid grin plastered on his face, “I’m so good at the doctors they even give me a sticker. ”

-

Now here you are, stranded at the gas station east of town, past Merrill’s pumpkin patch. Losing all faith in your sanity, you slam your hand into the steering wheel one more time. Your chunky boots clunk across the pavement as you pull the door towards you, a dingy brass bell dings overhead, alerting the gas station attendant that someone has entered the store.

“Back again?” the balding creep with the greasy combover presses. His coke bottle thick glasses full of breakfast pizza slime from his fingers from pushing them up on in place after sliding down the oils on his nose. A brown paper bag with orange spray paint sitting next to it sat on the counter, and a tinge of orange around his mouth.

With no time for small talk or shooting the shit with the local bachelors of Hawkins, you simply need to borrow the phone and call… fuck. You didn’t want to have to call Boom’s, but the other shops didn’t open yet, and you didn’t know any of them. The decision was made.

“I need to use the phone,” you say laying your hands on the counter.

“No can do, this is a business line,” he spits, bits of his barely chewed breakfast falling from his over stuffed mouth.

Irritated beyond belief you say through gritted teeth, “What? My car broke down, I need to have it towed.”

Showing no sympathy, the combover greaseball says, “That sucks, don’t it,” a throaty chuckle erupts from him. Clearly the man got off from making next to little effort in helping someone.

“Listen,” you say peering over the counter to read the slobs name tag, “Ralph— you’re going to give me the goddamn phone so I can get my car towed, or I’m going to tell your boss about your little huffing habit. Got it?”

His cheeks crimson at your threat, “…what’s the number?”

After dialing it wrong three times, Ralph’s oversized fingers and his altered mind getting hung up on where the 4 was on the dusty rotary phone, you hastily reach across the counter and grab it and the Hawkins phone book. Flipping through the worn yellow pages, finding the number yourself and slotting your fingers in the appropriate places to get the number correct, it finally starts ringing.

Angrily tapping your foot, the serenade of dial tone ringing loud in your ear.

“Boom’s” a bored voice says, after ehat seems like hours of waiting.

“Hey, — is Eddie there?”

A scoff is heard from the other end of the phone, followed by an annoyed voice, “Why who wants to know?”

You don’t have time for childish games with whoever this fucking prick is. “Jesus Christ what is it with assholes today? Is he there or no?”

“I don’t know, you stupid bitch— why don’t you tell me if Eddie is here or—”

A scuffle is heard as the phone falls to the ground.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Huh? I’ll drop your ass just name the time and place mother fuck— hello?”

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

“Tooty? Oh shit, you miss me so much you’re making calls to my work?”

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

“Or did you call to gossip? Ooooh, tell me all about the salon drama, is it that blonde again, damn just slap her already I know you want to.”

“Ed—!”

“Shit if you’re worried about going to jail I’ll come bail y—”

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Did you just use my full name? I only hear that when I’m in trouble with Wayne.”

“Will you listen to me?! I need help. I’m at the gas station east of town and my car won’t start.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, his joking tone immediately fading to concern.

“I have no idea, but I’m already late for work—can you come pick me up?”

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

“Goddamnit,” you say under your breath, “Eddie will you please, come get me?”

“That a girl, see that wasn’t so hard. So where are you?”

-

Eddie rolls up in an old orange and white tow truck, head banging with a cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. “So what happened?”

“Well I drove here, got gas, and then it just wouldn’t start.”

“Damn, I wonder if your starter is out.”

“Great, so what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it is that or not, but if it’s not that— it means that your car is probably going to need more work than it’s worth, but I won’t know until I get it in the shop.”

“Son of a bitch.” you curse, covering your face with your hands and tipping your head back up to the sky. Could this fucking day get any worse?

After buying the house last year, your savings were completely wiped out, the last few months you had been pinching pennies trying to build it back up

“I’ll tow it, but I don’t think Boom has any loaners right now,” Eddie explains, “but since I’m such a kind, handsome, good roommate….”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

“I mean its either that or the city bus, and last I checked—Hawkins doesn’t have one.”

Eddie agrees to give you a ride until your car is fixed on one condition, the band gets to use the garage for practices again. Too tired to fight with him, you give in.

He backs the truck up, moving the steering wheel with one hand the other hanging out of the window, his tongue poked out through his lips. He jumps down from the truck and maneuvers the wheel lift into place by your front tires.

The muscles in his forearms jut out, tattoos dancing with each movement and covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he grabs the chains from the flatbed and hooks them along your front tires, securing them into place. Your car is lifted slightly giving enough clearance to be able to tow.

“Ready?”

-

Bouncing along side Eddie in the tow truck you sigh heavily, “fuck, I hate Mondays.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Eddie chuckles, turning down the radio and glancing towards you, a cigarette balanced between his teeth, “could always be worse,” he digs into his front pocket for his pack of cigarettes and hands them to you.

You smile weakly and take the pack from him, plucking a tanned filter from the pack and shoving it between your lips. Before you can even say that your lighter is in the car, he’s leaning over. A scratched zippo with a fading design on it, in his hand already flicked open, the flame threatening to go out with the help of the lazy breeze through the open driver’s side window. It’s the same lighter he’s had since you first bummed a cigarette from him when you were thirteen.

Leaning towards him you put the cigarette into the flame, inhaling deep— the cowboy killers burning the pinky tissue of your lungs. He flicks the lighter closed with a metallic snap and smiles out of the corner of his mouth at you. Suddenly your lungs aren’t the only thing burning.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to avoid the skips in your stomach, “I usually prefer menthols, but I guess, these’ll do,”

“Always gotta bust my balls dontchya?” Eddie laughs, a stream of smoke billowing out from his nose. “Hey, uh— I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that gas station is rated 5 stars on the creepiest place in town.”

You glare your eyes at him, absolutely not having it, “they have cheap gas.”

“There’s a reason for that, and every drug dealer in town sells out of there,” Eddie scolds.

“You would know,” you say in a hateful tone.

“You’re right,” Eddie protests, looking at you earnestly, “I would know— it’s not a good place to be— no matter what time of day, so stay away from it.”

You knew he was trying to look out for you, and from what Steve said, — he blamed himself for the things Chad did to you. But it was never his fault, he didn’t know just like most of Hawkins didn’t. You lived with the Wheeler’s and not even they noticed until you walked home that night. You decide to let it be. For once in your life agreeing to what he had to say.

“Alright,”

-

Boom’s was on the opposite side of town, the rest of the drive you listened to Eddie hum along to the radio and snuck a peek at him playing air guitar. Despite him being so foul, and a royal pain in the ass, he was actually a decent human being.

No other men in their twenties could help you through your panic attack, aside from Steve. But Eddie? He was different from Steve in ways that you couldn’t grasp. You didn’t find yourself staring at Steve. Even if you had been swimming with him on more occasions than you can count. Sure he was good looking, but you never once understood why the girls at the pool practically flocked to him. Eddie hardly ever wore a shirt around you and your stomach ached each time you saw his broad shoulders and tattoos. Steve was like a brother to you, he scolded you and gave you advice, all with his hands permanently attached to his hips. A mother hen among his friends. Eddie teased and taunted you, his irritating behavior and the way he chewed his food, the way his hair was everywhere in the bathroom, the way his hair looked when he was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung on his hips. The way his hips made a ‘V’, small trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. Fuck.

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

..

…

But what if?

-

Eddie couldn’t understand what was going on with you in the passenger seat. Instead of bitching at him like normal, you were staring out the window. Looking as if you were fighting a storm in your cute little head. Maybe you were reliving the past. Silently suffering through something that he should have been there to stop. But judging from your reflection against the dirty window, you didn’t seem to be crying.

After that night, Eddie was putting in more effort to make sure you felt safe. He gave you distance. Avoided the bathroom in the morning, and stopped making dick jokes altogether. He still joked around, still acted like an idiot— but his perverted meter was dipped into the green zone, the safety net.

He meant what he said, you didn’t have to be afraid with him around. And he would do whatever he could to prove that to you. So when you called Boom’s earlier and asked for help— he dropped everything to make the trek across town to pick you up. Especially when you told him the gas station you were at. Known for being the skeeziest one in town, he worried about you being there alone.

Seeing the tow truck pull into the parking lot, Sean and Aaron had their noses pressed against the glass, the cheap flimsy blinds hung crooked over their heads.

“Damn,” Aaron exclaims, “you were right, that is her.”

“Told you, Munson hasn’t shut up about her since he moved in. Wonder if Chad knows where she’s been hiding.”

-

Eddie parks the tow truck and you both climb out. He gives you the keys to his van and tells you he’d be right back. Walking into the shop with a whistle on his tongue, he goes into Boom’s office. He’s sitting at a worn down wooden desk. Papers, and receipts clutter space where a framed family picture might be. A steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in Boom’s left hand suggested he stopped at the donut mart, and a dozen of glazed holes from heaven would be sitting in the break room, their sweetness tantalizing the crew all day.

Eddie raps his knuckles against the yellowed paint by the door frame.

‘Yep,” Boom chirps without looking up, reading the daily arrest records in the Hawkins Post.

“Hey, I brought Tooty’s Escort back, I’m going to bring her to work quick and when I get back I’ll move it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Boom gripes, not looking up from the paper, sipping the coffee slowly.

“Dunno, I’ll take a look at it— “ Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to another, “I was wondering if I could maybe work on it after hours, or on the weekends.”

Boom considers what Eddie is saying, “off the clock?”

“Yeah, or maybe I could take some of my tools home? Work on it there?”

Boom thinks for a while, taking a sip of his coffee. His pudgy finger hovering near the name “William Hargrove” mulling over if he knew him. He finally looks up, “Whatever you wanna do, Eddie, you’ve got keys—I trust you.” Boom offers, “just don’t let those other two jackasses know what you’re doing and who for— that’s all they’ve been yappin’ about since you left this morning.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I’m just helping out a friend, don’t know why they give a fuck.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit— but you’re my best mechanic, and those other two are on their last strike with me. One more time I read their name in this paper and they’re both out of here, and when that time comes— I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”

-

The familiar scent of stale weed and a spilled rotting beer in the back of the van flood your nose. Even though his van was a dirty pile of shit and it stunk like hell, you’re thankful for Eddie taking time out of his day to help you.

He could have easily told you to fuck off, hung up on you the minute you called. But he didn’t. He kept good on his word even when he didn’t have to. He doesn’t owe you anything and yet here he was, proving to you again, that he could be someone to rely on. You peer at him through your lashes, falling deep into a spell of fondness. He was always clean shaven, showing off his babyish features. If you didn’t know his age you wouldn’t guess he was over twenty two, his youthful pale skin a glow like the moon across a lake at midnight. The deep browns of his eyes squint in the bright sun, his dark eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks. His thick ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel as ‘Holy Diver’ plays gently in the background. The bob of his Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows and takes a drag from a cigarette.

You barely recognize your own voice when you say barely above a whisper, “thank you, by the way— not just for today but for the other night,” your fingers go back to the same nervous habit, twiddling the end of your cream lettuce hem shirt.

“Of course,” he says, a look of shock on his face, “I know I like to give you shit, but I wouldn’t leave you stranded somewhere.” He looks over at you lazily and smiles. The kind of smile associated with cool guys on tv, the kind of smile that’s crooked and truly only on one side of the face. And for the first time, you smile too, letting the warmth radiate through your body, venturing into places that you have to readjust your crossed legs to avoid entirely.

Pulling into the backlot of the salon, where you and Nancy smoke cigarettes and read trash magazines, you jump out thanking him again, the creak of the door slamming back into the frame as you wave goodbye.

“What time?” Eddie yelled after you, silently admiring the way the sun catches your face, highlighting your features, the slight breeze catching your hair, he can’t help the smile that dances on his lips. “What time are you off work?”

Walking back to him, he’s leaning his head back on the head rest, an arm hanging out of the window, a stupid grin on his face.

“My last client is at five and it’s just a cut, so probably six o’clock, why?” A creep of jittery shock threatens your nerves, fluttering your stomach and sending waves of fluster through your body.

“Thought I’d pick you up, unless you wanna walk home?” He smirks, tracing the small paint chip near where his fingers set on the door.

Biting your lip and moving back on your heels you make your way back to the door, “Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

“Six” you repeat, turning on your heel and walking into the salon.

-

Eddie has thought about you all day, the cards of life and the hand you were dealt were shitty. But he was happy he was around to help in any little way he could. He thought maybe he was crazy, seeing shit when you smiled at him, a sort of shyness in the way you flirted by dipping your head into your shoulder almost giddy at him picking you up.

But that couldn’t be.

-

The rest of your day was monotonous. Shampoo sets, perms, cuts, rinse and repeat. The long haired metalhead hardly left your mind. When it’s just you and Josie left in the salon after your last appointment, it’s 5:30. She sits down, exhaling loudly. Her long dark braids trailing to her waist, cascade down the length of the chair as she leans back.

“Broke down again? Girl, you need a car that actually works.” Her hot pink fingernails dip into a bag of skittles, popping them into her mouth.

“I know,” you sigh, throwing yourself into your salon chair, “hopefully in the next few months I’ll have enough saved to get myself a new one.”

“So how did you get here? If we had someone else in the salon today I would have came and picked you up,” her mouth puckered into a sucking expression as she pops another skittle into her mouth.

“My roommate… he works at Boom’s so he towed it there and then brought me to work,” you express nonchalantly.

“Ooh the rich one who you used to work with?”

“Steve?” You say with a laugh, “No, Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson? Why does that name sound so familiar? Ohh the infamous Hawkins bad boy, my cousins used to run around with him, some club or somethin’ ”

“Yeah, that's him, he’s turned himself around quite a bit since high school though.” The annoying need to defend him is obvious in your tone.

Josie’s eyes go wide, “Wait—“ she says, pointing a pink nail at you, “he had a girlfriend. He’s living with you? Shit, you’re a brave one.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, the thought of Eddie having a secret girlfriend that you didn’t know about was almost torture on your soul, “no, no girlfriend… that I’m aware of at least.”

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

Opening the door with the sun waning behind him, peeking an orangy-yellow glow through his unruly curls, stood Eddie. His coveralls are full of motor oil and brake fluid. Black grease is smeared across his face, and his hands. Bandana still snug around his head.

“Oh shit,” Eddie blurts, eyes scanning around the room, bouncing from your face to Josie’s. Clearly uncomfortable in such a clean establishment. “Sorry, I’m uhh, a little early.”

Josie’s eyebrows are turned up in shock, her mouth slightly agape. “Damn, you’re the roommate!?”

Before she can embarrass you any further you blurt, “Josie, this is Eddie,” holding out a hand and pointing, introducing him to her, “Eddie this is my boss and the owner of the salon, Josie.”

Eddie waves with his fingers, “so you’re the one lookin’ after our girl here, the mechanic?” Josie asks.

“Uhh, yeah that’s me.” he puts a hand on the back of his neck and rubs it slow

Josie stands and walks towards you, a clicking of her heels and munching on her candy as she grabs your hand and drags you upwards, dragging you to the back of the salon.

Eddie looks around the room. The salon is decorated in light washes of pink and green and flowers decorate almost every surface, White painted baskets hang from the ceiling holding fake flowers. The salon chairs are black as are the mats under them. Green sinks in the back and cabinets overhead. Two mirrors on each wall and station with a name and family pictures decorate them. Eddie can’t help but notice that where you were sitting, there are only three pictures. A photo of you and Nancy looking like it was taken last summer, you’re holding up the keys to the blue ranch style house he now calls home. Another picture is of you Robin and Steve, in green Family Video Vests in front of the counter. You and Robin are both pulling one of Steve’s ears and he’s making a monkey face. The last picture is of you and Eyeball as kids, a portrait more than likely taken at a JC Penney’s.

“Don’t forget to lock up, okay? Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Eddie, be good to her!” Josie calls from the back, the heavy metal door slamming as she leaves for the night, a smile painted on her lips, shaking her head.

You walk back towards Eddie, he’s sitting in your chair, poking around at all of the different brushes and curling irons that were on your station. Your tired eyes scan him and find him in the mirror. “What is all this shit?”

“My tools to style, cut and color people’s hair.”

You’re standing behind him. You hesitantly grab one of his curls in between your fingers, noting how silky and smooth his hair is despite the split ends. “You could probably use a trim, Eddie. When was the last time you had your hair cut?”

“You think these curls have been in a salon? Please! I cut it myself thank you,”

“I can tell,” you mutter under your breath, going full hog and untying his sweaty bandana and tossing it onto the counter. “Come on, let’s go wash your hair, and then I’m gonna give you a trim.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.” Eddie protests, arms crossed and resisting.

“Your ends are dead, if you don’t take care of it now, it’ll keep going further up and then you’ll have to shave your head.”

Eddie practically trips standing up quickly. “Those are fighting words.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?” You ask in a bored tone.

“Actually no, but— okay fine! Only because you went to some fancy school.”

Eddie stomps over to the sink and sits down with a plop in the smooth cushioned black chair. You follow behind him and place your apron back around your neck, tightening it around your back. You lean his chair back telling him to lift his head from the headrest as you gather his curls into the basin.

Turning on the water and testing the temperature on your wrist, like a mother testing a bottle making sure it isn’t too hot for a baby, you gently put the spray into the ends of Eddie’s hair, gently working the spray up the length of his head to his scalp.

“Is the water okay?”

“Ow, holy shit!” Eddie yelps, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. You immediately turn the faucet the other way, apologizing profusely until you realize Eddie is shaking with laughter.

“Oh fuck, … you…” more laughing as he chokes out his words, “should have seen your face.” He mimics your face and bursts into a fit of giggles, you aren’t sure how long he would have kept it up if you didn’t put the hose directly into his face and throw a towel at him.

“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll wax your eyebrows.” You spit at him, letting out a small laugh.

Mumbling from under the towel is faint but you swear you hear the word bikini.

Eddie finished cleaning his face and lays his head back into the sink again, you don’t ask this time but immediately start wetting his hair. “So,” he says, closing his eyes, so water won’t get in them, “I think I figured out what is wrong with your car.”

“Oh really? Is it going to be an easy fix?”

Not wanting to admit to you that he was working on your car for free or that he would borrow as many tools as he had to to get your car fixed, he settles for a half truth.

“Shouldn’t be too bad, gotta get some parts ordered for it.”

You let out a groan, “oh God— how much are they?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said, don’t worry about it, now treat me like one of your clients and tell me all the hot gossip in your life.”

Taking three giant pumps from the white shampoo bottle in the cabinet, you gently massage it into his scalp. Letting the cool smooth pearlescent liquid suds up. His hair feels like brown ropes of silk in your hands. All the years of having your hands in someone else’s hair were nothing compared to the odd feeling of lightly working the suds into Eddie’s mane. Baby soft. Luxurious in ways that contradicted the metalhead image he wore so well like a coat of armor.

You weren’t the only one admiring the way his hair felt in your hands.

Eddie is fighting hard not to melt into a puddle right there in Josie’s salon. Your hands were like magic against his scalp, your nails lightly scratching small circles against his skull. He was sure he’d fall asleep if he kept his eyes closed for any longer. It was the closest thing he could compare to what heaven would be like. Hints of tropical coconut mixed with crushed pineapple filled the air. He didn’t even realize you were talking until he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of your mouth moving over him. Your face was concentrating on the story that you were telling, but it fell on deaf ears. He was in a trance. The scrape of your nails against his head was almost pornographic to him. The way your eyes were trained on the job at hand. The way your lips parted and moved as you told the story. The animated look in your eyes, sparkling with each slow blink, your eyelashes teasing him.

He had never noticed the features of your face before. Usually if he was this close you were staring up at him and pointing one of those glorious fingernails into his chest, yelling at him— eyebrows pulled in, your face set in a scowl. But now here you were, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Filling a void he wasn’t aware was missing. He could die right now and he wouldn’t even know it. It was almost orgasmic the way you were making him feel, all with just simply washing his hair.

He caught himself before you could notice it. He crossed his legs and willed himself to think of anything else. Shutting his eyes and imagining the least sexy thing he could think of. Not wanting to ruin the moment between you both and make you never want to trust him again because he had got an accidental semi while staring at you while you were wrist deep in shampoo, scrubbing his scalp like a woman in the 1800s washing clothes on a board in the creek bed.

Nobody had ever washed his hair before, that he could remember at least. He never wanted it to end.

“…but that’s crazy right? Like she’s a psycho!” The hazy fog of lust finally left Eddie’s mind, his other four senses returning. Looking at your face and seeing that you were hurt by the story you had explained, and ashamed that he wasn’t even listening, he agreed, not even knowing if he should.

“What a bitch.”

You giggled, smiling down at him. Finally realizing you had been scrubbing his hair for almost five minutes, lost in the story. A stupid distraction to force yourself away from the feeling of the silk length of his hair, the way it felt in your fingers. Not wanting to let it slip away. You gather it all in one hand and grab the hose with the other, starting at the crown of his forehead, you rinse the suds from his hair.

Bubbles circle the basin. Disappearing down the drain along with the same shared feelings of lust and yearning. Shoved down deep away from the surface, hidden beneath hardened surfaces, shielded away from the inner depths of the softening heart.

-

You ended up cutting half an inch from Eddie’s curls, careful to not lose yourself in his hair again, almost cutting yourself in the process. Hee watched with wide sad brown eyes with each snip. “It’s like I’m watching you cut parts of my soul away.”

You roll your eyes, “It’ll grow back, and when it does it’ll be healthier and longer.”

His bangs were the next to be trimmed, not even half an inch taken off. You place a leave-in conditioner spray to keep his curls soft and to help with the tangles. Knowing full well that Eddie didn’t even own a hair brush.

When you finish and are sweeping up his curls, Eddie stands shaking his head like a dog and running his fingers through it. “Alright, I’ll admit, it does feel better.”

-

Since the agreement was made for the band to practice every other day of the week in the garage, Eddie had been bringing you to work, and picking you up. On days the band wouldn’t be practicing, when he dropped you at home, he would leave immediately after, sometimes not showing up again until midnight. Coming home tired as all hell, and just like you had done weeks before, a Tupperware of food with instructions on how to warm it up taped to the lid, would be waiting for him in the fridge, each and every time.

There was no more yelling from you when the three members of Corroded Coffin showed up. There were also no more beer cans or greasy food wrappers on the ground either. Instead a trash can sat in the corner, and Eddie paid for pizza after you ordered it.

Actually the band was pretty good. You would never tell him that, that would simply go to his head. And with the ego he already had, he didn’t need another boost of confidence, leave that for the groupies. So every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday night the band got together, playing covers from their beloved 80’s metal Gods and sometimes original songs they would write. All of them thankful that you let them practice in the garage, Big D picking you up into a bear hug and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Jesus Christ, D, this is why the ladies run from you, you’re too aggressive, put her down!” Eddie barks. A pang of burning in his chest at the sight of you in someone else’s arms.

Big D sets you down and apologizes, “sorry Toots, and hey speaking of ladies, whatever happened with you and those hotter than hell twins?”

“Oh shit, Gareth hollered, “Fuck dude they were all over him, surprised he’s even able to walk with the way they were strung around him like cats in heat. You usually can’t wait to tell us about it, bragging until the next gig about it at least.”

“That’s cause he probably didn’t do shit, too chicken shit to handle them.”

Your stomach flips, so it wasn’t something you remembered wrong, there were two girls that Eddie had brought home that night. A strange feeling of angst washes over you, coating your mind with uncertainty mixed with inadequacy. Your cheeks warm, embarrassed by the way you are feeling. Excusing yourself to go order the pizza, you don’t see the way Eddie dismisses the guys, blowing them off with a “why don’t we keep our sexcapades to ourselves.” Or the way he throws a full beer at Big D.

-

After ordering the Corroded Coffin special, two large pepperonis, two large sweet and swine, and an extra large order of cheesy breadsticks— you go into the cupboard and bring out several bags of chips and five paper plates. Your favorite, sour cream and onion, and Eddie’s favorite, cool ranch Doritos. You let your mind wander. Thinking about him with those two girls. Realizing this is probably where he went at night after he dropped you off.

No need to feel like that when he was just your roommate, you shake the jealousy from your head. Just Eddie. Barely a friend. Yet he was still going out of his way to take you to work every day, till doing the chores you both shared. You let the silly feelings drop, carrying the chips and plates to the garage, shutting the door behind you. Pulling up your usual lawn chair, listen to the band play and finish painting your toenails.

When the boys end the song, they start again on the conversation they had started before playing, “dude I’m not dressing up as KISS again this year,” Jeff whines to Gareth “took me forever to get that white paint off my face. And don’t even get me started on the eyeliner.”

A spray of beer soaks the ground as Eddie spits it out, laughing hysterically about the memory of watching Jeff struggle lining his eyes like Paul Stanley. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “yeah I agree, I’m not painting your ugly mugs again this year, what else are you thinkin’?”

“We could all be different villains from scary movies. Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers’s, and Pinhead.” Big D suggests, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Nah, no chicks wanna fuck something scary. I don’t know about you— but I tried all of last Halloween to get some tail and no girl would even look my way with all that clown paint on.” Gareth huffs twirling his drum sticks in his fingers.

“What about you Tooty?” Eddie asks earnestly, “Do you and Robin go bar hoppin’ on Halloween or do you usually stay home like an old lady knitting sweaters and handing out black licorice and molding fruit?”

Making a face at him, you paint the last coat of polish on your toe nail. “Actually, Nancy and I usually throw a party. Costume contests, kegs, beer pong… we kinda go all out.”

Eddie picks his jaw up from the floor, scoffing, “no way— Nancy Wheeler and you, throwing a rager on Halloween? I don’t buy it.”

“Call Steve and ask him, he’s the reigning Cherry Lane Halloween costume contest winner for two years running.” You say with a smirk on your lips, stretching your legs and crossing them at your ankles, the pretty maroon polish catching the dim light in the garage. “You guys are more than welcome to come, obviously it’s on Halloween night, and the only stipulation is to bring a good costume, and $5 for the keg.”

Eddie moves his tongue over his teeth, twisting his body to look at his band mates, all three of them shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be here,

“Yeah, if you think you’re up for it. Sure.” You say nonchalantly.

-

The smell of mildew and damp carpet currently being air dried with a fan stung your nose. The soggy basement and the crumbling foundation of Sally’s Secondhand in downtown Hawkins was a hidden gem and only open in the afternoons on Mondays and Wednesdays, but they had decent prices and good quality items when you were in a pinch if you could learn to breathe through your mouth for the time you were there.

“So how’s the roomie situation going?” Nancy asks, holding up a hand mixer with two mixing parts and a wooden handle labeled for .10¢. You had scored gold when you found a gently used, practically brand new waffle iron. It was wedged between two cook books for only $2. The same one Karen Wheeler had used on Sunday mornings. You were hunting for discounted Halloween decorations still not sure on what you were going to dress as and Halloween was this Saturday, Nancy was searching for spare camera parts for Jonathan and a toy cowboy hat for her costume that she wouldn’t tell you about.

Putting a masking taped bundle of forks into the blue plastic grocery basket, your forks magically kept disappearing everytime Eddie brought leftovers to work, you let out a sigh, “It’s going okay, better than it was in the beginning. He’s fixing my car up and I cut his hair a few weeks ago. I um.. also told him about Chad.”

Nancy stops dead in her tracks, blue eyes wide, her small mouth agape, “wh-what?!” Nancy was shocked at the news, you nonchalantly delivered like saying ‘fine’ when some asked how you were. She knew how frightening that situation was for you, it was scary for her too. Seeing someone she loved and cared about hurt in ways she couldn’t even fathom.

“We ran into him while getting groceries—like a month ago. I had a full blown panic attack, and Eddie, he helped me through it.” You go into detail explaining everything that had happened. Leaving out the part of you being comforted by Eddie and the gentle way his thick hands caressed you while you sobbed into him like a child who lost their cat.

Nancy's face goes from shock and softens into content, “wow, honestly didn’t think he had a caring bone in his body, he always seemed like such an asshole.”

“I mean he still is, don’t get me wrong— I don’t think he’s giving donations to the local churches or anything, but he seems a little more reserved, if you will,” you say, adding a floral embroidered set of towels for every day of the week to your basket.

“Hmm,” Nancy says with raised eyebrows, and nodding her head, a silent confirmation of approval. Always looking up to Nancy, almost as if she was your real life sister, you admired her. She was always put together, whether you were shopping during the week or at home, she was stylish in a way that said, I will run the world, and have dinner on the table at 6. Her white huarache sandals matched her high waisted pink pastel shorts and white button sleeveless blouse. Effortlessly stunning.

Moving along the aisles you and Nancy both finger through the clothing racks. Pulling out neon prints and a pair Madonna—esque white lace gloves, they probably belonged to that muppet singing idiot, Tammy Thompson. Chuckling at how fashion trends in high school were borderline ridiculous. a denim vest in your size with safety pins on each hem gave you an idea for your costume. Finding everything you needed you were ecstatic to put it all together.

The carpet squashed beneath your feet the further you got into the store. The back room held vhs’s, records, tapes, and books. The records were in a milk carton next to a shelf of adult themed books. The fading sharpie written sign reading “Adult fiction for Women 25 cents” posted bold along the top of the shelf. Nancy discreetly placed, “Thursday and the Lady” by Patricia Matthews into her basket, covering it with matching salt and pepper shakers, a crimson tinge to her rouged cheeks.

Diving into the records you flip them towards you as you lazily scan through them. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Thriller by Michael Jackson, Abbey Road by the Beatles, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, stuck to the back of it was a small single, Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It had been years since you heard it, tucking it into your basket, Nancy clears her throat nervously, the blush evident in her cheeks, “I’m ready if you are.”

-

The Saturday of Halloween the salon was closed, giving you Robin and Steve plenty of time to decorate for the party tonight. Eddie was working but was scheduled to get off around 5, just in time to come home and get his secret costume on.

Orange pumpkin printed garbage bags filled with autumn foliage lined the streets of Cherry Lane. Toilet paper streamers were in Mr. Derry’s tree, a prank the seniors of Hawkins High did to him every year, including egging his front door. Vinyl witches hung from doorknobs. Plastic ghosts holding jack-o-lanterns littered lawns. Fake strings of cotton resembling cobwebs with bendy plastic spider thrown around like glitter, lay atop shrubs. Orange lights were wrapped around the trees in your front yard, flimsy ghosts made of white sheets were hung from the branches. It was a child’s Halloween paradise.

“Higher, no lower, well now you’re just doing it wrong.” Steve was in charge of Robin who was in charge of decorations. The beer pong tournament would be in the basement, every strand of Christmas lights you could find were lighting the ceiling, table set up and cups in place. The tournament bracket started with Mike and El playing against Jeff and his girlfriend Ash. The kegs would be delivered later. Buckets ready for ice sitting on the deck. Robin and Steve were still arguing over who had the better costume last year. Twisting black and orange streamers together and hanging them in the doorway to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you’re finishing up the Jell-O shots, small clear dishes full of cherry red jello made with everclear. A bitter threat to anyone brave enough to eat them. The spinach and artichoke dip is prepped in the fridge, along with 10 packages of crescent rolls, 5 packages of hotdogs, the fruit cut and ready to be put into Steve’s horrendous Jungle Juice that you would actively be avoiding. Nancy and Jonathan were bringing pinwheels and rotel dip. Dustin and Susie are in charge of bringing candy. It’s going to be a blast.

-

“Be right back,” Robin and Steve call out as they leave to go get their costumes. Putting the finishing touches on your costume your hand shakes with nervousness while swiping mascara on your lashes, the pre party jitters wracking your nerves. The ring of the doorbell startles you. The obnoxious ringing should be a dead giveaway but you don’t recognize it until the door is wide open and you’re face to face with Jesus Christ himself and three nuns. Or as you knew them, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Big D.

You aren’t sure whose mouth is hanging open more. Yours or Eddie’s. Eddie is wearing a long sleeved cream colored gown, complete with a crimson sash. His usual black leather boots on his feet and a crucifix in his hand.

Eddie is the first to laugh, hands held out like he’s blessing the house before he enters it. “Aww sweetheart, you really are my #1 fan aren’t you?”

You are dressed as the most annoying on the planet, pain in the ass, voted most perverted of all of Hawkins: Eddie. When shopping with Nancy you found the vest, adding a few hand sewn patches and the best replica of Eddie’s DIO patch on the back, even shoving a pack of reds into the pocket, it looked pretty good. A twin of the aforementioned jackass. Borrowing Nancy’s cheap leather jacket when she went as Sandy from Grease last year, and putting holes into a pair of jeans and washing them as many times as you could to fray the edges, it was perfect. Complete with a horrible curly wig that you thought was a life dog upon seeing it.

“I was going for scary and scary annoying,” you shrug, “think I nailed it.”

“As hilarious and surprisingly accurate your costume is, the real winner for the party is going to be us” He gestured to him and the nuns. “figured I’d go as something that everyone says I need more of and you recognize the boys right? They’re dressed as your friends from work.”

-

The kegs finally show up and Eddie blesses the delivery man before he leaves. Fully throwing himself into character. Dustin and Susie are the first to arrive, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire and Sally Ride, the first woman astronaut to go into space.

Dustin laughs so hard he cries at your costume. “Oh my God please you have to say, ‘forced conformity, it’s what’s killing the kids!’ Please Tooty Holy shit!”

Mimicking Eddie perfectly you saunter away and scream about society and how good Metallica is.

“Oh haha, so funny Tooty,” Eddie pouts, holding a beer funnel in his hands, “come on Henderson let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

-

The backyard is sprayed with foamy beer as Dustin very much can not put his money where his mouth is. Gareth’s up next, chugging like a champion and doing a lap around the backyard like he won a trophy. Eddie and Jeff shotgun beer, Eddie winning by a mile. Laughing and putting his hands in a praying gesture to bless Jeff for his shortcomings.

The rest of the party goers show up, Nancy is dressed like Annie Oakley wielding a fake shotgun and a straw cowboy hat and a long brown dress with fringe hanging from the shoulders. Jonathan and his long haired friend Argyle arrive behind Nancy dressed as Sonny & Cher. Argyle had given up the fast moving life in California once a Surfer Boys pizza arrived in Hawkins. He delivered to the house so much during the nights that Corroded Coffin was practicing that he had your order prepped and ready to go by the time you had called it in. He’d show up so blitzed out of his mind that he’d forget he was at work, sharing his different strains of weed with all the Corroded Coffin boys.

Robin and Steve are in the kitchen, ladling jungle juice into empty cups. The duo dressed as Thelma and Louise, Robin wearing a black muscle shirt and sunglasses, and Steve wore a white tank top with a neckerchief. Both talking in horrible southern accents.

Eddie is standing next to Argyle in the living room both holding almost empty cups of the forbidden jungle juice, deep in conversation about something called Purple Palm Tree Delight, but knowing them, it had nothing to do with a lavender paradise. You reach around Eddie to grab a pinwheel, taking a bite when Argyle, clearly stoned, goes wide eyed leaning into Eddie his eyes still transfixed on you he whisper yells.

“Yo, I swear to God, I just saw two of you.”

“Argyle it’s me, Tooty.” You explain standing next in front of them trying not to laugh. “This is the real Eddie, I’m just dressed like him for Halloween.”

Argyle leans forward and whispers into your ear, “Yeah okay man that’s what the aliens would say before they clone us and take over.”

He leans back and takes two big steps backwards, eyes wide in a horrified daze, before disappearing down into the basement.

“Don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but that guy smokes way too much.” Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his jungle juice and eating the fruit at the bottom of the cup.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn him watching with your own gut twisting as the sweet juices of strawberry slither down his chin and down the slope of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, smacking his lips, “I’m twenty six years old, I can handle my liquor.”

“Okay,” you reply, “just so you know, the fruit soaks up all the alcohol and Steve presoaks it all in everclear the night before. Last time he ate all the fruit he spent an hour in the bathroom crying about his love life or lack thereof. And besides, we have to play in the pong tournament in a half hour.”

“We?” Eddie asks, lips turned up and a slight blush to his cheeks, “I didn’t sign up for beer pong.” His dark eyes pour into yours.

Heat creeps up your neck as you reach for a Jell-O shot cracking the lid off and circling the dish with your finger before sucking it into your mouth.

“I signed you up,” you say, reaching for another Jell-O shot, “everyone had a partner but Argyle and Will, so I paired you with Argyle, and I’m with Will,” you slide your finger around the Jell-O dish and suck the cherry gelatin into your mouth, savoring the bitter bite to your tongue before you crush it between your teeth.

“You better bring your A game Munson,” you say, taking a step into him and poking him in the chest, “because I don’t lose.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel this way or you but suddenly he can’t stop blushing, laying the charm on thicker than peanut butter, “oh really?” he asks intrigued, “Well babe, I don’t think you know this but I’m the Forest Hills Trailer Park Pong Champion for eight summers in a row, so technically,” he’s leaning forward now, whispering low to get his point across. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel the tickle of his lips against your ear, his hair is brushing against your face, the faint smell of motor oil stuck in his curls, “I never lose either.”

He pulls back and your eyes lock. The heat flooding your cheeks burn, the ache in your stomach travels south and pulses with want. You can’t deny it to yourself, even dressed as Jesus Christ, Eddie is the best looking guy you’ve laid eyes on, and you were melting at the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, a smirk placed on his lips as he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip to catch the remnants of the horrific fruit juice. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the Jell-O shot dish you’re holding and sets it behind him on the table. The tension could be cut with a knife, thick and heavily hanging in the space between you both. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by El screaming for Mike to get to the backyard instead of puking in the kitchen sink. Her Alice in Wonderland wig askew on her head and holding Mike’s mad hatter hat between her hands.

Running to open the sliding door you get it open just in time for Mike to projectile vomit off the deck.

“Christ, what did he eat?” Eddie asks from behind you, “damn Mike you’re such a pussy!”

“His dumbass didn’t eat all day and when he got here he decided that Jell-O and fruit would be a good option.” El says, rubbing his back as he pukes again and again, “I don’t feel bad for you Mike!”

Wiping his mouth on his forest green jacket sleeve, he murmurs, “Babe, I’m fine, seriously, a few pieces of bread and I’ll be in tip top sh—“ puke splatters wetly against the grass again.

You grab El’s hand and squeeze, “let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods and smiles sweetly.

“C’mon,” Eddie says behind you, “let’s go so I can kick your ass in beer pong.”

You turn your head, half facing him, “game on, Munson.”

-

The sharpie bracket on poster board continued moving forward thanks to Steve’s basketball knowledge. Jeff and Ash beat Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan beat out Gareth and Big D in a very close came both opponents having one cup left. Steve and Robin were beat out in the first round by Dustin and Susie, something King Steve would never be living down. Nex on the bracket to play would be you and Will playing Argyle and Eddie. Honestly it should be a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Will wasn’t the most athletic but last year him and Jonathan got second place against you and Nancy so the odds were pretty high. One thing you were absolutely certain of was that you would not be losing to Jesus and Cher tonight.

The basement is packed with everyone besides the ill Mike and faithful El. Argyle and a pink lensed Will are in the corner smoking a fat blunt the sequin jacket he’s wearing sparkles through the haze of smoke and the catches the lights. You haven’t seen him since Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. But he’s letting his hair grow out, finally letting the bowl cut Joyce insisted on him having all throughout middle school and high school go. Steve has Dustin in a headlock for teasing him about winning against Mr. Hawkins High basketball star of 1985.

“Ya know for once, I was actually good, like really good, Steve overthrew the last cup and it was game over once Susie got the ball. She’s strangely amazing at beer pong. Probably found the mathematical equation from the distance of the table and her elbow to the solo cups.” Robin rambles on, only stopping to get her breath. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night. Killer costume by the way, if you can’t beat ‘em be ‘em right?”

Robin and her absolute no filter mouth, always make you laugh, linking your arm with hers, “I really like your and Steve’s take on best friends driving off a cliff together to evade police.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

Not missing a beat, Eddie can be heard returning the exclamation. “You rang?”

Rolling your eyes and looking his way, you laugh when you see him, holding up his arms in praise.

Robin’s voice bringing you back to the conversation, “Epic right? Steve thought we could be conjoined twins but then decided against it when he figured there was a small chance he could possibly get lucky tonight when that black haired girl at his job kept hinting that she wanted a date with him.”

“What!” you shout, “He never told me this!”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes another drink from her too foamy beer, “he’s nervous, I think he really likes her but doesn’t wanna fuck it up like he does everything else.”

Steve deserved to be happy and to have someone love him. He was always making sure everyone else was okay, you smile at the thought of him with a girlfriend.

“So,” Robin presses, wiggling her eyebrows, “Eddie looks good tonight,” a wicked smile dances wildly on her lips.

“I’m not at all buzzed enough to have this conversation,” you say, taking a peak at Eddie through your eyelashes, he was laughing loudly at something Steve had said, head thrown back, exposing his neck.

Will joins your side, reeking of weed and heavy musk cologne. “Tooty!” He squeals, wrapping you into a tight hug, “the house looks so fucking good I can’t believe it, also I heard that you’re living with Eddie? I’m going to need all the details!”

“It’s so good to see you, look at your hair!” You say holding his arms. Will threads a hand through his hair and laughs a little.

“Thanks, it’s new but it’s kinda growing on me, now, spill it. Tell me everything.”

“Next game!” Nancy announces, advancing her and Jonathan to the next bracket. “Argyle/ Eddie vs Tooty/ Will.”

Will grabs your hand and drags you to the beer pong table, “after?” He asks and you nod your head.

Eddie and Argyle are standing on one end, you and Will on the other. The cups are arranged into a triangle and filled with the warming pitcher of keg beer.

“You ready to go down groveling, sweetheart?” Eddie sings from across the table, eyes squinting when he leans on the edge of the table smiling at you.

Your stomach flutters, taking a long swig of Will’s jungle juice, staring Eddie down as you gulp the vile liquor and fruit punch combo down, “You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?”

-

“Woo! That’s balls back ba-by,” you sneer, hooting and hollering as Eddie begrudgingly tosses the balls back your way. It was almost as if Argyle and Will weren’t even there, this game was between you and Eddie. You were definitely buzzed, between the warm beer and the Jell-O shots you had eaten you were feeling good.

When you miss the first cup, Eddie makes devil horns at you and howls at the moon like an idiot. You sink the next cup, earning a high-five from Will, and a sly grin from Eddie as he removes the cup and chugs the warm beer. He’s secretly excited that you’re so happy, letting loose, in your element, surrounded by your loving friends. You glowing with a sense of freedom. In that moment when your eyes caught his, he knew he was in trouble, you were wrapped around his finger and he didn’t think of hardly anything else, but you, your beautiful smile, the way your hair caught each light you were under. He was in deep, and for right now, he was perfectly and utterly okay with that.

It’s Argyle’s turn and he surprisingly sinks both cups, being awarded with balls back, as you and Will each take a cup and drink the suds down. Trying to distract him, you whip off your Eddie- esque wig and toss it towards Eddie, shaking your hair out like a wild woman.

Unphased by your antics he does it again and you groan. Four in a row? This guy was half asleep the entire game and all of a sudden he’s an athlete? They only have 1 cup left. Tension rises and the room goes to silence at Steve’s request. Argyle sinks it. Eddie erupts into cheers grabbing Argyle by the shoulders and jumping up and down.

“Redemption attempt!” Steve shouts, giving Will the ball. Will takes it with nervous fingers, blowing the ball to dry it slightly as you chug the last cup. He only has two cups to make. Will tosses the ball and the room goes silent, it feels like it’s in slow motion, or maybe that’s the alcohol. The ball soars through the air, bouncing against the rim of the cup lapping up the foamy beer, before it falls off and teeters off onto the table.

Argyle raises both hands in the air, “VICTORY!” the room erupts with cheers. Will apologizes profusely but you hug him tight, telling him you were happy he was your partner.

“Next game is Jonathan/Nancy vs Jeff/ Ash starting in 20 mins!” Steve hollers. The basement clears out as people go upstairs to use the bathroom and refill their drinks.

You expect Eddie to be gloating, cocky beyond belief. But he’s the opposite, coming up to you slowly, head bowed, upper teeth practically biting his lower lip in half.

“Good game sweetheart,” he says barely above a whisper, “not gonna lie, I really thought you guys were gonna win.”

Holding your chin high, face only inches from his, the brown pools of colored whiskey stare into your eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, the alcohol gives you enough of a push to cross the line. The thin gauzy material of the gown he’s wearing is sticky with sweat and warm from the heat radiating from his body. “Told myself I wouldn’t lose to Cher and Jesus tonight.”

Eddie let’s out a throaty laugh, “can’t believe he pulled that off, he didn’t make a cup all game.”

“Guess you get to continue wearing that tarnished crown, speaking of wardrobe… where the hell did you get this outfit?”

“You know that church across from the police station?”

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gives you a knowing glance, waiting for you to catch on.

“No way! Eddie! You broke into a church and stole an outfit off of a statue?”

“Amen,” Eddie says roaring with laughter, “ahh c’mon you can’t tell me it wasn’t a genius idea.”

Rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t exactly call it genius, but funny? Yes.”

He laughs again, “not everyday I get a compliment from myself,” he says eyeing your costume, “you do make a pretty cute Eddie Munson if I say so myself.” he wasn’t even thinking anything of it, just blurted it right out.

Flirting came easy to him almost as a second nature, he was never nervous around women, usually finding the game of sex not just something he was good at but conquered with ease. But this, here, with you? Was a slippery slope. A different game for him entirely. He was a pawn amongst you and you were the queen, striking down whoever came near, holding all the power.

Your cheeks heat from his compliment, blood rushing through your body and warming your skin, he holds your hand to your chest, stroking your fingers with his thumbs.

A thousand bolts of lightening ignite you, he smells like smoke, ashy and burning, the cheap keg beer on his breath as he smiles softly at you.

“Tooty!” Steve calls from the top step, clinging onto it for dear life, “are you down there?!”

You’re the first one to break away, pulling your hand from his grasp, threading them together at the last minute, finger tips clinging to each other like velcro. The flames between you both extinguished fast, no oxygen left in the room to keep it going.

Getting to the bottom step and turning, you give him one last glance and a small smile, before trotting up the stairs to Steve.

-

Eddie opens the patio door to find Gareth and Big D blowing smoke into the sky and talking about the best DIO song.

“Shit man, where have you been? Didn’t your game end like 15 minutes ago?”

Eddie thinks of a lie quick, “Taking a piss why you wanna watch?”

“That’s weird,” Big D questions, “cause Gareth just came out of the bathroom unless there’s a magic bathroom you haven’t told us about.”

“What are you guardian of the toilet?” Eddie says slotting a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his zippo open.

“I mean he’s got a point,” Gareth interjects, “where have you been tonight, turning water into wine? Or are you healing the blind?”

“Cool it, Whoopi,” Eddie bites, “the fuck does it matter where I was or wasn’t?”

“You’ve changed dude. Used to be a ladies man, different chick every night. Smoking and drinking all night watching the sunrise. Fuck man you were hell on wheels. Then all of a sudden you move in here and you’re acting like the Pope, fixing up her car off the clock, bringing her to and from work, you’re like her fucking babysitter.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck off man, she’s Eyeball’s sister, and I’m just looking out for her.” Eddie grits through his teeth.

“Or,” Big D suggests, “you like her, I mean you still haven’t even told us about the twins— and you stare at her like she’s about to combust at any moment.”

“Yeah and what do you two know about anything?” Eddie spits.

“Clearly not shit, but you’re all fucking riled up about a girl you don’t like.” Gareth flicks his cigarette and goes inside, Big D following.

The door opens again, “listen man, I’m not in the mood for your stupid fucking advice.” Eddie groans, turning to see Steve standing at the door, an empty pitcher in his hand. “Shit, sorry, thought you were Gareth.”

“Nope kept my habit at home,” Steve says with a chuckle, setting the pitcher on the edge of the deck, “nice party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “ya know when Tooty first told me that her and Nancy threw a party every year I didn’t believe it, turns out I was wrong about her, seems to be a theme of mine lately.”

“She doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re here, it means she trusts you, respects you.” Steve explains.

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

“She cares about you, ya know? She might not want to admit it— may even be scared to admit it to herself, but she likes you.”

Eddie gives him a look. Sure you were nicer to him, not threatening to kick him out anymore. You had let the band practice in the garage, even staying out there to hear them play. But that didn’t mean anything did it?

“How many times do you think she’s cut my hair?” Steve inquires, leaning next to the railing on the deck beside Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly, “a dozen?”

Steve chuckles, “Never, not once, never even offered. You think she made elaborate meals for Nancy when they lived together? Wrong— she barely touched the stove. You move in and she’s changed, for the better. It’s like she’s coming back to life, and the only common thing in that equation, is you.”

Eddie mulls this over, could Steve be right? “I don’t know man.”

“I may not be Mr. Relationship but I do know Tooty, and you’ve softened her edges. Tamed that frightful girl we all love and adore. She’s got walls up, keeping people out, but not around you, not anymore.”

Eddie hangs his head, his heart bursting with sad euphoric bliss. He couldn’t go about this like any other conquest. And with you it would never be how it was with the other women. Faceless broads in mini skirts, praising him, doing whatever he wanted them to. He never saw you in that way. Holding you on a pedestal about the rest. He hadn’t been in a relationship in years. One too many times of being cheated on was enough for him. But you were hurt too, more so than he was. He was still licking his wounds with anything willing and able. You? You were a shell of yourself. He couldn’t act on this like he would with anyone else. He cared about you too damn much to make you feel like you couldn’t trust him again.

“And I know you care about her. Everytime I look at you you’re staring at her like a sad little puppy.”

Eddie looks up then, looking at Steve like he held all the answers to life’s questions. He turns and leans against the deck, elbows on the railing just how Steve was facing the house.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do care about her, more than anything. So what do I do?” He asks Steve.

Steve shrugs, letting out a loud sigh, “keep doing what you’re doing, she knows you care about her, just don’t disappear on her.”

Eddie turns his head from Steve and catches sight of you through the patio doors. He can see you taking a Jell-O shot with El, Robin and Nancy. A sleeping lump of clothes on the kitchen table with black hair must be Mike. You light up the room as you laugh when Robin makes a repulsive expression after taking her Jell-O shot. He can’t hear your full laugh, it’s faint through the glass. But, he doesn’t need to hear it to know the sound—having heard it more and more the last few weeks, the way you throw your head back when something is really funny, sometimes covering your mouth. He’s certain he’s never seen anyone more angelic in his life. Like you have sucked all the air from the room, even dressed in a sheer mockery of him, you’re radiating a glow that makes his heart swell. He has never cared about anyone the way that he does for you.

Seeing him through the doors standing next to Steve, he has a smirk on his face. A sudden rush of shyness creeps up your neck and you turn away from him, but you reciprocate his actions, smiling at him. A small gesture that melts him on the spot.

Eyes trained on you but still talking to Steve, Eddie beams, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/n: see you in volume vii

Hope you all enjoyed this. There were some little hidden Easter eggs in this chapter, go to my askbox if you found them 💕

readmore eat my ass or this line you decide, whore.

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[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 4)

pariring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 4 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 3 here)

you and lando have gotten so used to each other in such a short amount of time that a few days apart feels unnatural. there are still lines you're scared to cross, but lando will do anything to prove he's not going anywhere

word count: 6.2k tags/warnings: social media au aspects, alcohol consumption

You jumped when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders as you stood outside the hotel lobby doors. Usually it was Carlos finding any reason to scare you, but when you didn’t hear his laughter following your panicked inhale, you turned around and came face to face with Lando.

“Morning,” he smiled, eyeing the suitcase at your feet. “What time’s your flight?”

You were a little surprised he didn’t call you out for leaving without saying goodbye, but you both knew you didn’t owe him that. Whatever happened last night, the kiss you shared, it wasn’t supposed to turn into anything bigger.

You glanced at your phone, “In a few hours, I’m just waiting for the uber.”

“You’re not flying with Charles?”

The question confused you, but then you remembered that Lando was probably expecting you to attend all of the races. You had only missed a few since the start of the season and Lando had gotten used to your presence over the weekends.

“I’m going to London,” you told him. “I’m not going to the next race.”

Lando’s smile dropped, his eyes widened and was in resemblance to a puppy as we waited for you to make a joke and tell him you were only kidding.

But you were being serious and when neither of you said anything for a few seconds, it sunk in for Lando that he wouldn’t see you at all this week. 

“Why?” He swallowed. “I mean, at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask why?”

Lando thought he had done something. 

Seeing you standing with your luggage, Lando drew his own conclusion that he had done something wrong last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you, maybe he shouldn’t have asked about why you didn’t date drivers, maybe he shouldn’t have put you in the position you now found yourself in. 

You needed to ease his nerves, and the second you reached for his face, lightly brushing your thumb over his cheek, Lando started to think that maybe he was overreacting. 

“My friend is getting married,” you answered. “Her hen party is this weekend. The wedding takes place next. And then I’m probably just going to stay in London until Silverstone because it’s the weekend after anyway.”

Lando nodded and you could see him working through the dates in his mind, wondering when he’d get to see you next. It would be almost three weeks. 

But it wasn’t like he had a say in the matter. He would miss you, just like you would find yourself missing him, but you didn’t have any sort of commitment to him or the races. Lando almost felt as though he didn’t have the right to tell you that he wanted you to be there. 

“Where are you staying?” He asked, instead of saying what he really wanted to say. “In London?”

“Oh I don’t know yet,” your phone chimed, letting you know the uber was nearby. “I’ll call one of my friends when I land or I’ll get an airbnb. I’ll figure it out.”

Lando was taken aback by how unprepared you were, but if you were being honest, most of your travel plans were usually booked by someone else. Charles’ assistant made sure you had a room booked and transportation sorted out when you attended the races. If you ever travelled for modelling jobs, the agency would plan ahead. This was one of the few times when you were in charge of your own trip.

And clearly, that stressed Lando out a bit.

“You’re just going to land in Heathrow and hope that someone has a spare room for you?” Lando repeated back what you had told him, but making it sound more preposterous than it actually was. 

You shrugged, “I mean, yeah. Someone’s bound to. Or I’ll get an airbnb.”

“A last minute rental in the heart of London?” Again, he was wording it in a way that was making you second guess your decision. “That’s available for the next three weeks?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Lando rolled his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face. He was in very visible distress and when his sigh was loud enough for people nearby to turn and look at what was going on, you pushed on his shoulder.

“Lando, I’ll be fine,” you assured him with a laugh. 

But he only shook his head and pulled out his phone, “I know somewhere you can stay. I’ll send you the address and key code and everything.”

“In London?”

“Redcliffe Square,” he clarified. You didn’t spend a lot of time in London, but you were familiar with that borough, nestled between Kensington and Chelsea, two of the most expensive areas in the entire city.

“Who’s place is it?” You asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t, don’t worry.”

“But whose place is it?” You asked again. Your phone vibrated in your hands and you glanced at the screen to see that Lando had sent you all of the information you needed to access the flat. 

“A friend’s,” he glanced over your shoulder when a black SUV pulled up along the curb. “He isn’t even in London. You can use the place for the next few weeks, okay?”

You weren’t fully sold on the idea, but with your uber arriving, there wasn’t much time to argue. The look you gave Lando told him you’d think about it and that’s all he could ask for. He took the luggage from you and wheeled it to the trunk of the car. 

Lando, for whatever reason, was determined to help you in any way he could. And you weren’t someone who ever needed help, but Lando did little things here and there that you hadn’t stopped to think about until now.

Like how he opened the door for you whenever he could. Taking your suitcase from you so you didn’t have to lift it. Sorting out your temporary living situation so you didn’t have to worry about it. Lando liked being able to take care of you, as much as he was allowed given the fact that you two weren’t actually together.

He shut the trunk again and returned to you, shoulders slummed as he took in a heavy breath. He looked at you as if he was trying to remember every detail of your face, seeing as he wouldn’t be able to just wait outside the Ferrari motorhome to see you or even show up outside your flat. 

Lando would be heading straight to Austria, in fact he had to finish packing because he too needed to go to the airport soon. 

“How am I supposed to move up your driver ranking if you’re not even watching the race?” He asked. 

“That’s on you to figure out.”

“Who’s next on your list?”

“Danny Ric.”

Lando’s eye roll could not have been bigger. It didn’t help that you were also wearing an oversized shirt from Daniels’ 2022 Ric Rodeo collection, finding it to be comfortable enough for an overseas flight. 

“Danny’s not even driving!” Lando exclaimed. “And the next race is at the Red Bull Ring. He’s going to be there!”

As a Daniel Ricciardo fan, you were looking forward to all of the content that would be coming up in preparation for the race. You were also looking forward to seeing what Lando had in mind to pass the reserve driver. With surpassing in points out of the question, Lando had to get creative.

“You’re smart, you’ll think of something.”

“You can’t just call me an oyster and then call me smart, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Fine, I’ll stick with oyster.”

“You little-” he clenched his teeth, cutting his words off. You could see him actively trying to mask his smile as his lips pressed together tightly. 

“I have a flight to catch,” you said, taking a moment to reach for his hand. You gave his fingers a squeeze, it was supposed to be a friendly gesture but one that held more meaning than just saying goodbye. 

And then Lando didn’t allow you to let go. The second he felt you pulling away, his grip tightened and he pulled you closer. Your heart started to race when his other hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t use my last 12 seconds right now?” He whispered.

You had an answer. You had about three answers, three good reasons why he shouldn’t kiss you outside the doors of the hotel. For starters, there were people that you both knew in the lobby right now and if they just looked outside they would be left with questions neither of you could answer.

Neither of you could trust employees, within Formula 1 or at the hotel, to not say anything and you didn’t need this getting back to your brothers. 

But most importantly, you didn’t want to share these moments with the world. 

If Lando kissed you again, you wanted to be able to get lost in it. You didn’t want to worry about prying eyes or being interrupted or the media finding out and spinning a story into something that it’s not. 

“Save them,” you said quietly, feeling your heart sink deeper into your chest when he nodded and dropped his arm back to his side. He let go of your hand and reached for the door to the backseat to pull it open for you. 

Lando leaned against the frame of the door, watching as you made sure you had everything that you needed for a full day of airline travel. You opened the belt bag around your waist to confirm your passport, charger and wallet was safely in there. He chuckled when it took you an extra second to find your airpods, but even if you were panicked about missing something, the way Lando looked at you was enough to ease your nerves, momentarily. 

“No daisies?” He asked, referring to the bouquet he had gotten for you last night.

“I can’t bring flowers on a plane, Lando.”

He wasn’t content with that response, “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you retorted. “I guess you’ll just have to get me some more when I see you in SIlverstone.”

“Shouldn’t you be bringing me flowers? I’m the one who got a podium.” 

Lando was stalling now, he didn’t want to watch you drive off. He didn’t want to go these next few weeks knowing you weren’t anywhere nearby. You would be in two completely different countries.

“Do it again and I’ll think about it,” you flashed him a smile, the last one he’d see from you in a while, before he reluctantly shut the car door. 

You fought the urge to look out the back window and wave at him, just like he fought the urge to send you a text saying ‘have a safe flight’. Those little meaningful actions weren’t something either of you did and you knew that the second one of you crossed that line, it would be so much harder to return to where you were before. 

——————

Two flights, three naps and eight hours of podcasts later, you landed in London. You were exhausted, starving and making a mental note to call Lando and thank him for hooking you up with a place to stay because the absolute last thing you wanted to do right now was to find somewhere to sleep.

You texted Thea, your friend who was getting married and told her you landed. She responded almost immediately asking if you wanted to grab drinks but you were ready to call it a night and assured her you’d call her tomorrow. 

You were half asleep in the uber, not even caring to look out the window to make sure you were headed in the right direction. You confirmed the address that Lando sent you and closed your eyes until the driver quietly woke you up when he stopped in front of the white period building. 

The flat was stunning, you could tell that much when you stepped outside. Even with the night sky casting over it, this home was elegant and not something you could ever afford. 

Rolling your suitcase up to the front steps, you pulled your phone out to double check the numbers that Lando had sent you. You typed in a six-digit code and waited only a second for the mechanism to unlock. You pushed the door open and jumped when an alarm started going off.

It took you a moment to get your bearings and find the next text that shared the code to disarm the system, but when the house finally quieted down and you were certain there were no other codes you needed to enter, you let yourself relax.

The flat had high ceilings with period features throughout, including a beautiful marble fireplace in the living room, large windows that led out to a stunning garden view and a huge semi-open kitchen floor plan that you couldn’t wait to use when you weren’t tired.

You left the suitcase at the end of the hallway and flipped a light switch on. It wasn’t that you were trying to pry, but you scanned the general area for any photos or memorabilia that would hint at whose place this was.

Unfortunately for you, nothing stood out.

Except for the vase of daisies in the middle of the dining room table. 

You walked over to the table, thinking that they were fake and for decor only, but the second you reached for one of the stems, you knew instantly they were real, and freshly cut.

Which meant someone had been here before you showed up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you headed towards the fridge, thinking that if someone was staying here, there would be groceries put away. You yanked the door open and found your assumptions to be correct. There was food in there.

And by the looks of a lot of the expiry dates, this food was purchased today.

You needed answers and you needed to know if Lando was incorrect about the homeowner being away.

You wiped your eyes as you scrolled to find Lando’s contact name in your phone. There was a really good chance you were delusional and there was in fact no food in the fridge and you were hallucinating the flowers because of how exhausted you were, but it all seemed real.

Lando answered on the first ring. 

“Hey,” his voice chimed through the receiver, you could practically hear his smile. “How was your flight?”

“Yeah, good,” but when your 'good' 'was cut off by a very audible yawn, you heard Lando chuckle into the phone.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you laughed as well, leaning against the counter as you eyed the flowers again. “Hey, are you sure there’s no one staying here?”

“At the flat?” You heard a bit of shuffling on his end, like he was moving to a different location to talk to you. “No, no ones there. Just you.”

“So why am I staring at a vase of freshly picked daisies and why is the fridge stocked?”

He laughed again, what you would have given to actually be with him and hear it. You weren’t even sure what country he was currently in, or if he was somewhere in an airport waiting for a layover, but you knew you would have much rather preferred he was with you in London.

Not because you had feelings for him or whatever, it was just easier to talk face to face than over the phone.

“Well,” Lando took a breath. “Daisies are your favourite flower and you need to food to survive so-”

“You did this?” 

“You sound surprised.”

“I just-” you opened the fridge again. “When did you-” you picked up a head of lettuce and then opened up the drawer filled with an assortment of meat and cheese. “How did you-”

“I asked a friend to pick up some things,” Lando finally cleared things up. “Ria lives in the area, she went grocery shopping and picked up the flowers. I just didn’t want you to walk into an empty flat.”

“You’re so sweet,” you tucked the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walked back over to the flowers. Another yawn passed through your lips and Lando laughed yet again, but you didn’t want your fatigue to be the reason why you had to hang up. “I’m going to get used to seeing the flowers, you know?”

“I know,” Lando agreed. “I’ll just have to keep buying them for you.”

“Or just plant your own,” you suggested. “Have a nice shrub of them in your yard. I’m sure they can grow in Monaco.”

“I’ll think about that- oh, hang on a second, yeah?” 

Before you could answer, Lando muted himself on his end. You wouldn’t have blamed him if when he came back he abruptly needed to go, he had a long travel day as well. 

While you waited for his return, you grabbed your suitcase and wheeled it down the hall, on the search for a bedroom. The first door on the right was a bathroom, the one across from it was an office and it wasn’t until you reached the last door on the left did you find the master bedroom.

Flipping on the light, an abstract painting of a vintage car hanging above the bed took you by surprise. It was a bright blue painting and it stood out, not in a good way, amongst a lot of the neutral decor. 

But again, there were no personal mementos. 

You checked out the ensuite, making sure the hot water actually worked, before heading to the closet. The racks were lined with a variety of jackets and jumpers, you assumed belonging to a guy given the size and styles. 

You really shouldn’t have been snooping, this wasn’t your flat, you were simply a guest, but the light blue hoodie called to you and you tugged on the sleeve to check out the design on the front.

“Sorry about that, had another call,” Lando’s voice made you flinch, not expecting him to come back so soon.

But your attention wasn’t on the phone call. It was on the jumper with a white logo in the top right corner, a logo that held the initials LN.

You tugged down the collar to confirm that this was in fact one of Lando’s merch items and not just fan made. LN4 was printed on the dark tag.

You cleared your throat, “Lando.”

“Yes?”

“Who’s flat am I in right now?”

A bit of silence followed by a faint hum, “Why?”

“Answer the question.”

“A friend’s.”

“Whose friend?”

Another pause and then a very hesitant and uncertain, “Yours?”

You let go of the sleeve and walked back into the bedroom, “Do you live here? Is this your flat?”

His silence was enough of an answer. You scoffed and you knew that Lando could hear your eye roll through the phone.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to stay there if I told you it was my place,” you quickly explained, his voice raising with humour before you could think about arguing with him. “I just thought the offer would scare you off because, I mean- it’s a little weird.”

“It’s very weird,” you corrected, eyes darting all over the room. He lived here. “Lando I can’t sleep in your bed.”

“I haven’t had sex in it with anyone, if you’re wondering.”

“Well I wasn’t, but thank you for clearing that up.”

Lando laughed, “Come on, Y/N. It’s better than a hotel or an airbnb or crashing on someone’s couch.”

But you still weren’t sure how you felt now that you knew this was Lando’s place. He might not have lived here full time, you were fully aware of his home in Monaco, but this was his flat. He handed over the keys to one of his homes like it was nothing, like the thought of you staying anywhere else was absurd. 

You had visited Milan dozens of times and Pierre never once suggested that you stay at his place. Carlos was the same, never thinking of offering up his home if he knew you were travelling to Madrid. 

You were friends with both of those guys, Pierre was on thin ice, but regardless, you considered them to be the two drivers you knew the most, that you were the closest to.

And Lando texted you his address in seconds, not giving you any other option.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the palm of your hand curving over the luxurious duvet. If you closed your eyes and fell backwards on top of the mattress, you’d be out in seconds. 

“Hey,” Lando’s tone grew quiet, knowing he had lost you for a moment as you got sucked into your own thoughts. “Have I dropped down the driver ranking again?”

“No, you idiot,” you rubbed the corner of your eye. “I’m just thinking about how this is definitely a bit weird, but also really sweet and if Charles knew where I was staying right now, he’d run you off the track next race.”

“I can handle Charles,” there was a false arrogance to him. Driver Charles was a lot different compared to Older Brother Charles. “Just enjoy these next few weeks, okay? I know it’ll be a little boring without me there to annoy you, but try, yeah?”

“I’m going to rack up your electricity bill,” you decided, a devious sort of smile playing on your lips. You glanced towards his closet, “I’m also going to burn all of your merch.”

Lando sighed loudly, “You know what, I’ll pick my battles. This isn’t one of them.”

“So you don’t care if I set all of your LN4 hoodies to flames?”

“Well you don’t wear them anywhere so you might as well.”

“You’ve never asked me to,” you pointed out, but then couldn’t remember if that was actually true or not. There might have been a time when he offered you a hoodie or a shirt and you probably rolled your eyes at the mere thought of putting it on because that would mean you couldn’t rep DR3. 

“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Lando scoffed. “You wear Danny’s merch.”

“Well yeah I love him.”

Lando grumbled quietly into the receiver, something about Daniel not even driving, followed by a few more seconds of loud rustling. He started saying something else but his voice was muffled so you only assumed he had pulled the phone away from his face to talk to someone nearby.

This time when he came back, his tone shifted. 

“Hey, so I-”

“Have to catch your flight?” You asked, trying not to let the disappointment seep through into your words. 

“Yeah it appears so,” Lando sounded just about as annoyed as you felt.

You didn’t want to draw out this goodbye, “Good luck this weekend.”

“Thank you, I’ll, uh- I’ll talk to you later, I guess?” He sounded unsure. “I mean, I won’t call you because you’ll be asleep but yeah I’ll text you or you can text me if you want, but you don’t-”

“Lando,” you cut off his nonsensical rambling. He hummed and you could just picture his wide eyes and boyish features in your mind. “I’ll talk to you later. Have a safe flight."

ynleclerc

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 14,302 others

ynleclerc thea's getting married and we're about to make it everyone's problem

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theaa_coleman i love you !!!

carlossainz55 when are you getting married

ynleclerc is this a proposal? carlossainz55 you wish

userrnorris i would give anything to see lando or carlos as her date to the wedding PLEASE

smooth_operator55 wait this explains why she wasn't at the race this weekend!!

paddockgf oh phew i thought it was bc charles banned her from hanging around w the drivers💀💀

You told Lando you’d talk to him later but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

You didn’t text him when you woke up, being bombarded with calls from your friends and he didn’t call you when he landed, exhausted himself from his travel days.

And then the week went on. 

The Hen party for Thea was chaotic. You were drunk for nearly 48 hours and hungover for the next 24. You didn’t leave Lando’s flat for a few days, needing to recuperate and it wasn’t until Tuesday afternoon did you finally feel like yourself again. 

You wanted to watch the races live, but your weekend was packed so you weren’t able to actually see what happened until days later when you curled up on the couch and turned on F1TV. 

Just like you expected, a lot of Daniel Ricciardo content at the Red Bull Ring, but even his presence wasn’t enough to distract you from a certain McLaren driver. 

Lando ended up qualifying eighth, not his best but also not his worst. If you had watched live there would have been a sort of obligation to text him saying ‘good job’ but you also weren’t sure if that was something you could do. It wasn’t as though you wanted to text Carlos and congratulate him on his P4 starting position. 

The race, for better or for worse, was a pretty dull one. No major incidents, nothing that caused you any concern. Charles started from fifth and worked his way up to a third place podium. Carlos started fourth and stayed there. And somewhere during those 71 laps, Lando dropped back through the grid and finished eleventh, unable to claim any points for that weekend.

Again, if you had watched it live you might have even called him. You might have said he still had a good weekend and that it could have been worse, but you were watching it two, almost three, days later. 

The worst part was you had been so disconnected from the outside world these last few days that you weren’t even aware of the driver standings until right now. You had stayed off Instagram except to share a few photos and aside from that, your phone died a lot throughout the chaos that was this weekend. 

You didn’t see anything. You didn’t see Lando’s race results. You didn’t see his post-race interviews where he sounded defeated over the lack of pace from the McLaren. You didn’t see the tweets from fans saying that Lando was missing his good luck charm (you). 

There was a lot you missed, but there was also a lot you were completely oblivious to.

You didn’t know that Lando thought about calling you after the race because he knew that hearing your voice would make his day a little better after that run. You weren’t aware that Lando paced back and forth in his hotel room, asking himself if you really were his good luck charm. And you didn’t know he changed his flights so he could leave Austria early and head to the next country the race was being hosted in.

Which just so happened to be England. 

He told his team it was because he wanted to visit some family before the race weekend. There was a decent sized gap between the Austrian Grand Prix and Silverstone, so no one thought anything of it, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie, he would go see his family, but it just wasn’t the whole truth.

So he landed in London Wednesday night.

It had been over a week now since you two last talked and it wasn’t that you were ignoring him, you just didn’t know what to say.

Days had passed since the race and you just assumed it was too late to say anything about it. Would he have even wanted a pity ‘hey I still think you did pretty good’ sort of text? He knew you weren’t planning on watching the race live, so that kind of message held the risk of sounding insincere. 

And Lando hadn’t reached out either, assuming you were enjoying your time with your friends, which you were. But you missed his voice, you missed his laugh, you missed talking to him. 

But there would be no calls or texts exchanged for the rest of the week. 

Again, you didn’t know what to say and then all of a sudden it was Saturday, Thea’s wedding and then you really weren’t on your phone. You were at the brides’ beck and call since dawn, you needed to be there to take the champagne away when she tried to pour another glass before noon. 

If you had been on your phone, you would have noticed Lando posted a handful of photos on his story and on his photography account, showcasing that he was in London. After spending the last few days with friends and family in nearby towns, he arrived in the city.

And he wanted you to know it. 

He didn’t want to come across as needy or annoying and come straight out tell you he was in London, so he teased the city on his social media, hoping that you’d see it and call or text him. It was an immature move, but Lando wasn’t sure where the two of you stood so it was all he could come up with.

But of course you had no idea what Lando’s whereabouts were. Your priority was the bride and then after the wedding, your priority was getting drunk with your friends at the reception. 

Lando was the last thing on your mind. 

Until he grew impatient that you hadn't reached out, so he was left with no choice but to leave a comment on your most recent instagram post.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 18,204 others

ynleclerc need my friends to stop getting married, im tired of crying in pretty dresses (so much love for you 2 tho)

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theaa_coleman i love you i love you thank you for holding my tissues all day

charles_leclerc congrats to the happy couple !!

arthur_leclerc always the bridesmaid never the bride?

yn/leclerc im 21 leave me alone

landonorris orange suits you

Orange suits you. 

Was that him telling you that you looked good in orange or was he being sly and using orange as a euphemism and he was in fact saying that he suited you? Or maybe this was him hinting at wanting to see you in the McLaren garage or maybe Lando didn’t think before leaving that comment and it was unintentionally causing you to spin out. 

It didn’t help that you were drunk and to you, the room seemed to quite literally be spinning. Was it actually? You could be easily convinced it was.

As you sat on the bench outside of the hall, your heeled foot tapped against the carpeted floor. God your feet were killing you. This dress had rough seams that made your skin feel like it was on fire. Your earrings kept getting stuck on your hair but none of that was bothering you as much as Lando’s comment was.

What the fuck did it mean?

You don’t talk for a week and a half and that’s the first thing he says? 

You blinked a few times as you focused on his name on the app, clicking it to lead to his own profile and then clicking his photo to see what he had been up to within the last 24 hours.

It took you a second to piece together the photos you were looking at, but that fucker was in London. 

He was in London and he didn’t tell you? You’re staying at his flat. What was going to happen? You’d go back there after the wedding ended and run into him just sitting on the couch? 

Next thing you knew, you were calling him. 

You lost count of how many rings you heard before he finally answered. 

“Hey,” he sounded arrogant, like he was expecting your call. Or maybe you were just reading into it because you didn’t know what was going on and you had one too many shots with the bridal party and Lando said that orange suited you.

“Orange.”

He laughed, “Excuse me?”

You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Your intention was to call and ask if he was in London but for some reason you couldn’t get his comment out of your mind, so you rolled with it. 

“You think orange suits me?”

He paused. Or maybe he didn’t. The seconds were blurring together and you didn’t have a good concept of time.

“You’re drunk.”

Did you sound drunk? You didn’t think you sounded drunk. You diverted the conversation.

“You’re in London.”

“Are we just stating the obvious?”

“Why did you-” you hiccuped, you definitely sounded a little drunk now. A breath passed your lips as you regained a coherent thought. “You think orange suits me?”

“I do,” there was no hesitancy on his part. “I think you look beautiful in anything, but orange is definitely your colour.”

That’s all it took. A few words, a simple compliment, his smile that could be heard through the phone, and your heart was sinking into your chest. You missed him, you missed his voice. A week and a half wasn’t even that long but it was also driving you insane. 

“I didn’t-” you inhaled a breath as your words jumbled together. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t watch the race live and you also wanted to apologise for not saying good job and you were still stuck on the fact that he was in London so the next sentence out your mouth wasn’t understandable in the slightest. 

“I didn’t mean to say sorry, in the-” you dragged your hand over your face, trying to think of a word. “In the race, you were- you did last weekend.”

Lando’s laughter was music to your fucking ears. When something was really funny he always inhaled as he laughed and with it came a sort of squeal that was terribly contagious and you found yourself wanting to laugh along, even if you didn’t know what was funny.

Like right now, you didn’t know why he was laughing but you were laughing with him. Was it something you said? You couldn’t even remember what you said. 

When you both finally caught your breath after a minute, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying what was on the forefront of your mind.

“I think I miss you.”

“You think?” Lando repeated. “I know I miss you.”

He missed you.

“Where are you tonight?”

The question wasn’t properly worded, but Lando pieced together what you were asking. Him being able to understand drunk you was weirdly attractive. You didn’t want it to be a recurring thing, but you loved that he wasn’t asking you to repeat yourself or making you feel bad for not making any sense. 

“I’m staying at a friend's place, I didn’t want to bother you at the flat.”

“What if I want you to bother me?”

Lando cleared his throat, “Then I’d get in my car right now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Get in your car…” you sat up a bit straighter, glancing towards the room where the reception was taking place. You had spent all day with everyone in there and now there was only one person you wanted to see, “...and come pick me up.”

You could hear the sound of car keys being thrown and caught, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Send me your location.”

And you did, accidentally hanging up on him in the process. Lando sent a string of laughing emojis before telling you he’d be there in about fifteen minutes. 

That was enough time for you to chug a few glasses of water and find the bridge and groom to say goodbye. Thea tried to pour another shot down your throat but if anymore alcohol entered your system, you’d start making some really questionable decisions. 

She was content with a hug when you lied and said you would puke on her dress. You wished them well and told them to be safe on their honeymoon. Next you found a few other members of the wedding party and said bye to them before grabbing your clutch and making your way to the front doors of the venue. 

Just in time for Lando to pull up in a sleek black McLaren.

You were so captivated by him just getting out of the car that you froze in place, your heels scraping against the cobblestone beneath you. He wasn’t in a Quadrant sweater, surprisingly, instead opting for a white t-shirt and a pair of dark grey sweats. 

There was already something about a man in grey sweats that had you, and many people, forgetting how to breathe. But Lando in that attire was otherworldly. He looked so good but it was well past midnight so you didn’t how know it was possible for someone to look that good. 

You weren’t even sure how you looked. There was a strong chance your eye makeup was smudged and your face was oily after having product seep into your pores all day. One of the straps of the dress slipped from your shoulder and you quickly adjusted it as Lando approached you, taking in your appearance like he was breathing in fresh air for the first time in months.

“Hi,” you whispered. 

“Hi,” he smiled. He raised his eyebrows when your knee buckled slightly, an indicator that you were in fact drunk but you played it off like nothing happened. “Did you have fun?”

You nodded, looking very uncharacteristically childlike, “I want to go home.”

You didn’t mean for the word home to slip out. You knew Lando’s place wasn’t home, you were only staying there for a few weeks and then you’d be travelling again. 

But even without him there, you felt so comfortable in that flat. You loved cozying up in the bed, you liked having the open kitchen to experiment with, you liked knowing that Lando wanted you there.

So no, it wasn’t home, but it was close enough for the time being and that wasn’t something you could often say, especially with your schedule consisting of trip after trip, hotel after hotel.

Lando reached for your hand. Hearing you refer to his flat as home, even in your drunken state, had his heart skipping a beat. He knew you didn’t mean it, he knew you just wanted to leave the party, but it meant more to him than you’d ever realise. This was something he would hold onto for as long as you’d allow him to. 

“Okay Little Leclerc, let's get you home.”

masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia if i missed someone im so sorry

[yourfatherlucifer]

Our Aurora : Chapter 2

Poly!Ot8!Ateez x Afab/Female!Reader

Summary: Attending university with your eight boyfriends wasn’t easy, neither was sharing a mansion with them.

Warnings: MDNI, this mini series includes tons of smut, slight violence, protective ateez, poly relationship, established relationship, mentions of mxm, choking, other smut themes.

bullying and violence for this chapter.

WC: 1.5k

AU: University

Genre: Smut/fluff

Nets: @newworldnet

Tags: @deltamoon666 @watermelon2319 @justconniez @a-teez-4-exo @mingtinysworld @certifiedmoa @kittkat44 @sanhwalvr @spenceatiny18 @vtyb23 @sousydive @haebaragisworld @yourallaround-simp @therealcuppicake @ja3hwa (please make sure I can tag you in your settings)

SERIES MASTERLIST

The morning sun beamed in your eyes, you tried to move away from the direct sunlight but strong arms held you back from moving. When you opened your eyes you saw that it was Mingi holding you.

Right, he fell asleep with you after your bath last night. You turned your head to look at his sleeping face. He was at peace.

He was happier these days, happier than ever. More than he was when he had met you. Mingi was at his lowest then, his heart was aching. His brain was telling him horrible things. He was the epitome of depression and anxiety.

High school was hard, but to him, it was pure hell. Even as a big guy, he was still bullied, he was in pain. He had no one. He had no friends. You’d see him in the halls, he was cute to you. Very cute. Mingi had always worn headphones to block out the other kids.

You never liked your friend group, they were the other rich kids that sort of pulled you with them everywhere just because you were richer. However, they participated in harassing the poor boy. You wanted to stop them but didn’t know what to do.

Until one day, you were trapped in a thunderstorm outside because your ride got caught in the weather. Mingi had been rushing through the storm, clearly crying. He wasn’t watching where he was going and had slipped near you, taking you to the ground with him.

He gasped and scrambled to get off of you, his clothes were sticking to yours because of the rain. You could see the pain in his face, the panic as well. But what you noticed was the black eye. The huge swelling. It angered you. Your so-called friends went too far.

“I’m sorry!” He yelled out over the storm.

You shook your head, “Mingi, please, don’t apologize.”

He froze in his movements, “H..how do you know my name?” He felt the happiness bubbling within him. Someone knew him.

Your ride had finally pulled up, “It doesn’t matter, for now, I’m giving you a ride home,” you crawled from beneath him and pulled him up, which was hard, “Get in, please.”

He stammered over his words but followed you into the backseat, “Thank you..”

-

When you had pulled up to his home, he had realized his family wasn’t home. Typical. They always left him alone, by himself.

“Oh, um..”

You shook your head, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll just take you to my home, my parents are on vacation so I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Mingi’s heart fluttered, however he was terrified. He didn’t know if you were being genuine or if you were gonna trick him.

He sat in silence, fiddling with his ruined headphones, they looked like they were purposely ripped and broken.

“Mingi, did..did they do this to you?” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. You just knew you’d teach those kids a lesson. They weren’t your friends. How dare they harm someone as sweet as Song Mingi? He never hurt anyone.

His head snapped to face you, “What? No. I-“

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yeah..they did this. They always do. This is my third pair of headphones this month.” You could see the pure sorrow in his eyes.

Your fingers clenched in anger, “I see.”

When the car pulled into the mansion's front lawn, your driver stepped out of his seat and opened your door for you, “Miss, welcome home. I’ve already let the household staff know about your companion, they have fresh clothes for him.”

“Thank you, Hyunwoo.” You smiled, taking Mingi’s hand to bring him inside. He was so glad his eyes were still puffy from crying, else you would’ve seen his red face.

Never has he had someone care about him so much. He couldn’t help but fall in love. It didn’t help that he already had a crush on you.

Your staff greeted you inside, rushing to help you out of your wet clothes, “Guys, I’ve got it.” You laughed, “Just bring the fresh clothes to my room, I’m gonna get him comfortable.”

You trudged up the stairs, taking the large man with you, “Don’t worry about my staff, my parents like to spoil me too much, they have staff to take care of me when I’m alone. I’m almost 18, you’d think they know I can take care of myself.”

Mingi gave you a small smile, “It’s okay..I may not be used to this, but it’s alright.”

As you pulled him into your room with a smile, “The bathroom is over there, go ahead and get undressed, I’ll bring you fresh clothes. My staff will wash and dry those for you.”

He shyly pulled away from your hand and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stood there in confusion. Just how did he get here? With the prettiest girl in his school. He didn’t know she’d be this nice and caring, how could she hang out with such horrible people? He wondered.

You went through your closet and changed into warm pajamas, you’d had to wait to blow dry your hair since Mingi was in the bathroom.

One of your maids knocked on the door and came in, “Here you go, Miss. your companions clothes. Henry was the only one who seemed to have clothes that would possibly fit that boy.” She passed off the clothes to you.

“Thank you. You can go now.” You smiled as she left.

You knocked on the door and Mingi slowly opened the door, peeking his head out, “Thank you.” He took the clothes from you.

You could see a bit of his chest and it looked bad, there were new bruises and healing bruises.

You sighed, they must’ve pushed him over and kicked him. They were gonna pay for this. You didn’t care if Mingi would hate you for taking this into your hands. You just couldn’t stand by while they hurt someone. What if they took it too far and killed him? No, you couldn’t allow it.

He closed the door and put on his new clothes. Just a plain shirt and sweatpants.

“Would you like to stay the night, Mingi? I have several guest rooms if you’d like. I’m sure you don’t want to be alone.” You suggested with a smile from the other side of the door.

Mingi opened the door with a puppy-like smile, he was beginning to feel safe around you.

“Thank you, for everything, Y/N. You’ve been nothing but nice to me and I don’t know how to thank you.” Mingi stared down at his feet.

You stepped up to him, reaching out for his large hand, “It’s okay, there’s no need to thank me. You don’t deserve any of this.

You brought him to your bed and sat down, “Why don’t you get some rest, I’ll go make you something to eat, okay?”

He nodded with a small smile, “Okay.”

-

As days passed, the two of you got closer. He was becoming your one and only friend and you didn’t mind. He managed to avoid his bullies with you around, but one day you weren’t.

You had hurt shouts in the school's courtyard and found a crowd.

Oh no.

You could hear Mingi’s cries for help as no one did anything, they only recorded and laughed.

You were pissed. You threw your bag down and rushed into the crowd. Finding his group of bullies. All you could see was red. Your fist collided with someone’s jaw. This person was kicking Mingi.

“Fuck off of him!” You shouted.

The crowd went silent as your fist repeatedly bashed into the kids face, his nose was bleeding bad but you didn’t care. He hurt Mingi.

“Y/N, please.” Mingi cried out for you, the bullies already leaving his side to take care of you. But you weren’t having it.

You fought them off with everything you had.

Your fists were hurting, they were covered in blood but you didn’t care whose it was.

From that day forward, no one fucked with you or Mingi. The school didn’t even bother doing anything because your parents were their biggest sponsor.

On the day of your graduation, you had asked Mingi out and he was ecstatic. He was becoming a man. He vowed from the day you saved him that he wouldn’t stop at nothing to protect you.

You had kissed him on the stage and flicked everyone off, a final fuck off to the horrible school you two were leaving.

As the memory faded from your brain, you turned to look at the sleeping Mingi.

You were so glad for the day you met him. He called you his princess yet he was yours. He was the true princess.

“Y/N?” He stirred awake.

“Yes, Mingi?”

“I’m hungry, princess.” His stomach grumbled just right after his words and you both laughed.

“Then let’s go get something to eat, I’m sure the others are home and would like to eat as well.” You just knew Wooyoung would want to cook for you, especially since you were sure they all knew what happened with Hongjoong fucking you so hard.

Together, you left to go downstairs, happily and in love.

[harmonicakai]

Look After You

Part 2 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: You tag along to the club in the hopes of finally confronting Kai for his weird behavior, but things don't go as planned.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sexual tension/references to sex (mdni), reader is insecure

“I'm nervous, couldn't tell you why Touching me, hands warm on my thighs And I know I could turn a blind eye Afraid of what I'm gonna find” —North, Clairo

Somehow, someway, you were standing outside of Yeonjun and Kai’s apartment complex in the tiny dress he had picked out yesterday. 

Earlier, Yeonjun had texted to check in and assure you that he wouldn’t make fun of you if you decided not to come. Still, yesterday with Kai was just so unbelievably strange and now you’re hellbent on getting to the bottom of things.

Getting into this dress was way more complicated than you were willing to admit. Before you left, you had stared at yourself for almost ten minutes, your reflection unrecognizable. Usually, you’d cover up as much as possible, but tonight, everything is so… bare.

As you wait, you worry that it doesn’t fit you right, or that your makeup looks ridiculous. You don’t like when others look at your face, nor your body. That’s why you use your clothes to distract people. If they can’t see, they can’t notice everything that’s wrong with you.

When the guys finally come down to meet you, Soobin’s there too. He greets you with his dimpled smile, picking you up and twirling you around like you weigh nothing. It almost makes you forget about Kai, had he not been sulking in the background. 

It’s like every time you’re around, you somehow manage to suck all of his energy away. Clearly, last night was a fluke and he’s back to normal now.

“Hi, Y/N, it’s been a while,” Soobin says, running a hand through his short hair.

It’s true. You haven’t been assigned to styling the boys in almost three months, and only ever see Yeonjun outside of work or when he manages to track you down and bother you during a shift.

“It’s really nice to see you,” you reply, your hands running up and down your bare arms.

“Are you cold? Here, take my jacket,” Soobin says, stripping it off and handing it to you before you can politely decline. The material hangs off you like a tent, covering the dress completely.

“The car should be here any second now,” Yeonjun says, his shirt barely buttoned, exposing his smooth chest. 

You glance from him to Kai and note the stark difference in their outfits. Whereas Yeonjun is dressed to kill, Kai doesn’t even look like he knows where you guys are going.

He’s wearing an oversized black hoodie, baggy jeans, and skating shoes. It was something you would’ve seen him come to a photoshoot in before stepping into the clothes you meticulously laid out.

When the cab arrives, it becomes obvious that your driver is the grumpiest man in all of Seoul. You open up the front door on the passenger’s side.

“No room up here,” the driver huffs. You glance to see the seat full of ramyeon packages.

“There’s not enough seats,” you say, backing away from the taxi door. “Maybe I should just go home.”

“No, Y/N, you should come,” Soobin says, “I can go home if it’s an issue, or just meet up with you guys there.”

“Guys, there’s plenty of room for all of us,” Yeonjun diffuses, “Y/N can sit on Huening’s lap.”

“What!?” you squeak at the same time as Kai. The two of you lock eyes for a brief second before looking away again. His face is beet red.

“From what I’ve heard, the two of you just need to kiss and make up already. Plus, Hyuka’s so big and strong. It’ll feel like nothing to him.”

“Hey, I don’t have all day,” the driver reminds your group. You sigh and gesture for the boys to get in, Kai going last.

He gives you a look that reads “Are you sure?” before you climb onto his lap, doing your best to sit closer to his knees than his crotch.

Unfortunately, the ride to the club is a bumpy one. With each sharp turn, you jostle around the backseat. Your hands are pressed against the roof, searching for some stability.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Soobin asks. You’ve almost tumbled into his lap after the driver ran a red light.

Kai reluctantly wraps one of his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You nod to Soobin.

You’ve never been this close to a guy before, let alone one who's made it very clear he doesn't like you. Not as a friend, and certainly not as anything more than that. Still, the way his head nests itself over your shoulder feels… nice.

You shift in his lap before a pothole sends you flying. His grip tightens to keep you from bumping your head.

“Y/N,” Kai whispers through gritted teeth. His breath is hot against your ear. “Please. Try to stop moving.”

“Just a second.” You keep squirming as his arm wraps tighter around your waist, trying to adjust so his bunched up clothes don’t feel so lumpy underneath you. Why is he wearing so much damn fabric to the club?

Suddenly, your eyes widen as you realize the real source of the problem. Kai is hard.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice tinged with embarrassment and regret. 

“No, I should’ve been more careful,” you reply, staying as still as possible. You have to remind yourself that it's a purely physical reaction. Heat radiates off of his chest, growing warmer by the second.

Right, Yeonjun, it sure feels like nothing to Kai.

“What are you guys whispering about?” Yeonjun asks, leaning over Soobin. This was probably his master plan all along.

“Nothing,” the two of you say in unison. The rest of the ride is silent, but you catch the other two grinning out of the corner of your eye.

As soon as the cab comes to a stop, you practically leap out of Kai’s lap and into the parking lot. He follows shortly, pulling the hem of his hoodie down to hide any evidence of what just happened. 

Based on Yeonjun’s snicker, it doesn’t work.

The boys don’t even have to wait in line or show their IDs at the door. They introduce you to the bouncer, although he’d hardly recognize you again without the makeup or outfit.

The club is humid and packed, music blasting much louder than you’d ever willingly subject yourself to. You do your best to trail the boys, but get lost in the crowd.

A large hand reaches out and wraps itself around your wrist, guiding you forward across the sticky floor. It’s Soobin. You have never been more thankful for his constant devotion to being a gentleman towards you.

The group settles into a booth in the back corner, Yeonjun throwing his jacket down in preparation for finding his target for the night.

He locks his eyes on a girl with red hair. “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he yells over the music, stalking back into the crowd of bodies.

“Do you guys want to start off with a round of drinks?” Soobin asks. 

“Nah, I’m good for now,” Kai says, sinking into the cushions of the booth. Did he actually bring his Nintendo Switch to the club?

“What about you, Y/N? Care to join me?” Soobin continues, extending his hand.

You’re not much of a drinker, but maybe with a little liquid courage, you’ll finally be able to confront Kai for being weird all this time. You nod and follow Soobin to the bar.

That was eight shots ago. 

A squeal from behind you catches your attention, and you watch as Arin leaps into Soobin’s arms, their reunion straight out of a K-drama.

Before he can introduce you, she drags him by the hand to the center of the dance floor, pressing her body against his. Soobin doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe the rumors were true.

Without anybody to distract you, the music grows louder and your head starts spinning. You stumble out into the hallway, desperate to get home and change out of the tight dress before you throw up all over it. 

“Do you like him?” a familiar voice says from behind, startling you. You turn to see Kai standing next to you with a glass of dark liquid in his hand.

“What? Like who?”

“Soobin. I… I see the way you look at him.”

“No, I don’t like him. I’d probably look at you the same way, too, if we were friends.”

“We are friends,” he says softly, although you can tell even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Don’t make fun of me. Everybody knows that you hate me,” you whine, your words slurring together.

“I don’t hate you, Y/N. I promise.” He’s staring at you so intensely that you can’t help but notice how warm his brown eyes are. The blue contacts he’s constantly being forced to wear don’t do his features any justice.

“Do you remember the first time we ever met?” you start again, snapping out of your trance. “You were in your dressing room fumbling with a harness, and it was only my second week. I came over to help you and you flinched away from me. Told me you didn’t need my help and walked away.”

Kai stares at the floor, no longer interested in his drink.

“And you always go straight into your room whenever I’m over. Or make up an excuse to go home early if you find out I was also invited somewhere. We’ve never even had a real conversation until now!” Your voice breaks, and it takes all of your strength not to let any tears fall.

“Okay, I get it,” he concedes, throwing his hands up. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. But I promise that I don’t hate you.”

“Then what’s your problem? Why do you act the way you do?” You were getting more and more frustrated. Apparently, this whole time, you and Huening Kai were just the best of friends. “How can you actually look me in the eyes and tell me that I’ve gotten everything wrong?!”

“God, Y/N, you just—you make me so nervous!” His breath hitches, as if he wants to say more. Your face shifts from anger to confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” you ask, your knees buckling. Now really isn’t the time to be having a heart to heart.

“Y/N, I’m going to take you home,” Kai says, steadying you. The back of his hand presses itself to your forehead, recoiling at the burning temperature. You slump further into his chest. “Where the hell are Yeonjun and Soobin? Fuck!”

Kai lifts you up, his long arms wrapping around your body as you nuzzle your head into his neck and groan. The last things that cross your mind are raindrops soaking your skin and the faint smell of peaches.

—————-

It had been a couple of days since the club incident and all you got out of it was a really bad cold and some paid time off. 

Your head still aches, further exacerbated by the incessant ringing of your doorbell. 

“Y/N, it’s Yeonjun. Let me in,” your best friend’s voice calls from the speaker. You buzz him in, hoping he’ll be able to tell you what happened the other night. All you remember is waking up in his bed to him sleeping on the couch.

Less than a minute later was his signature rhythmic knock at your door. You open it, greeted by not one, but five smiling faces with their hands full of gifts.

“You didn’t tell me all of you were here,” you groan, slumping back onto your bed.

“We thought you might not want to see all of us right now. But we heard what happened and we wanted to check up on you. And bring you some fun snackies,” Taehyun grins.

“And also, to apologize for making you come in the first place,” Soobin adds.

“We’re sorry,” they say in unison, even though Beomgyu and Taehyun weren’t even involved.

Kai avoids your gaze, coughing into his elbow.

“Are you sick too?” you ask, handing him a tissue to deal with his sniffles.

“Of course he is, Y/N. He carried you home in the pouring rain! Our Hueningie is a total hero,” Soobin says.

“He even cleaned your throw up off the bathroom floor,” Yeonjun adds, his voice tinged with both disgust and respect. “And got that dress dry cleaned and returned to the building before anybody noticed it was gone.” 

You turn to Kai, unsure of whether or not they’re making this stuff up. “Did you actually do all of that?”

“Yes,” Kai answers, head down and twiddling his thumbs. You do your best to recollect the other night.

“I guess that does make sense. I remember your cologne smelling really good.”

“What? I don’t wear cologne.”

“Oh… then I guess you just smell good.”

“You know, Y/N,” Beomgyu starts, “When somebody likes somebody else’s natural scent, it usually means they’re attracted to them. Maybe you and Hyuka are soulmates and just never noticed.”

All of you stare in awe at Beomgyu’s lack of a filter. Taehyun elbows him in the side. 

Every time you and Kai have been brought up recently has been a joke, but he seems so genuine that you wonder if there’s something you don’t know. 

“Could you guys go pick up some breakfast from the café around the corner? I’m really hungry,” you say, doing your best to change the subject.

“But we brought all this food with us!” Taehyun complains, shaking the gift bag in the air.

“Just go. Kai can stay behind and fill me in.” The boys exchange knowing glances. 

“Fine, but give me your keys,” Yeonjun says, hiding a smirk. It takes all of his strength not to make a joke about how much Kai would love to fill you in.

“And 20,000 won,” Beomgyu adds.

“Here,” you say, handing over your Miffy keychain and a bill from your wallet. Beomgyu pockets the cash with a smile, clearly not intending to put it towards breakfast.

“We’ll be back before the two of you can make a baby,” Yeonjun winks.

“You’re such a pig,” you scoff, the boys filing out of the room one by one.

“A handsome pig! Bye!” he calls, shutting the door behind him.

It’s just you and Kai now. When his eyes finally look at you, you find yourself looking away.

“So, you really don’t remember anything else from the other night?” he asks.

“I mean, I think we talked, but I don’t know what about.”

“Oh.” He decides not to press any further on that part of the story. “Well, yeah, basically… you got sick and I brought you home. You threw up twice and then I helped you change and waited until you fell asleep in Yeonjun’s bed. I DID NOT look at you naked by the way. I slipped a t-shirt over you and you just went on autopilot and shimmied out of the dress on your own. Guess you wanted to get out of it pretty damn bad, huh?” 

This is by far the most you have ever heard him talk outside of interviews. The way he rambles is actually kind of cute.

“I also kind of had to watch and make sure you didn’t roll onto your back and choke on your own vomit, but other than that, I just sat on the floor next to you and played Pokémon. You snore in your sleep, by the way.”

He has a big smile on his face now, satisfied with his storytelling. You smile back. The moment is quickly interrupted by Kai having a sneezing fit.

“I’m sorry you’re sick because of me,” you apologize, handing him another tissue. When he reaches for it, he holds onto your hand for a split second longer than necessary.

“It’s okay. I’m just happy that I was there to help you,” he says, sitting at the edge of your bed. He’s much quieter without the other guys around to riff off of.

“Thank you for that, by the way. I really don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

“Let’s not think about that.”

“Agreed,” you say, searching for a cosmic sign of how to continue the conversation. “Yeonjun tells me you’re quite the ladies man.”

A blush spreads across Kai’s face. You’ve made him flustered. “Uh, I, uh… No! I don’t think so? Maybe. Did he really say that? Because if he did, he literally sleeps with a different girl every night. Sometimes more than one! And one time he even asked if I wanted to join—”

“Kai! He didn’t actually say that,” you interrupt, hoping to stop him from revealing anymore of Yeonjun’s life in the bedroom. “I was just messing with you.”

“Oh,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Right. But, uh, that girl from the other morning. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, although part of you wonders if it actually is. “So, is that the type of girl you usually go for?”

“No!” he replies. He mulls over his next words, “You’re going to laugh at this. Basically, the guys were making fun of me at the club because I always sit in the corner and play games, and Yeonjun tried to make a bet that I probably wasn’t even capable of bringing a girl home, let alone someone that looked like her.”

Someone that looked like her. Even if he says that she’s not his type, how are you supposed to feel when you look the complete opposite way? Did every guy have those kinds of standards?

Kai can tell by the look on your face that he’s said something wrong. He decides to change the subject. “I only ever see you when you’re all dressed up.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think anybody would be seeing me right now. Sorry if it’s not the best sight.”

“You look nice. I like your pajamas.” He gestures at the bespectacled teddy bear on the front of your shirt. “It’s Beomgyu.”

“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly, looking down at it. “I guess it does kind of look like him.”

“Is he your bias?”

“Maybe. Don’t tell Yeonjun.”

“My lips are sealed.” He smiles and pretends to turn a lock and throw away the key. Your gaze lingers on his lips until you turn away, unsure of what to say next.

“I feel like we don’t know anything about each other,” he says, breaking the silence.

“We don’t.”

“Right. I guess that’s my fault.”

“It is.” You have no idea why you’re being so short with him. Weren’t the two of you just smiling at each other? It’s like you were used to playing defense and couldn’t figure out a way to switch it off.

“Y/N, can we start over? I’d really like to be friends.” He hesitates on the last word.

“I probably won’t be dressing you any time soon, so I don’t know when we’d get to know each other.”

“Let me take you out! We can do whatever you want.” 

“Whatever I want?” It’s a tempting offer.

“Yes.” There’s an earnestness to the way he’s speaking to you that you’re not quite used to.

Yeonjun usually decides your hangouts because he knows how stressed planning makes you, but it’s nice to pick every once in a while. You mull over your options.

“Do you want to go watch the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra perform this weekend?” you offer, a little apprehensive. You had only purchased one ticket, thinking you’d be going by yourself. Kai’s eyes light up.

“I’d love to! Hopefully we’ll both be feeling better by then. Though I do think the red nose works for you,” he says, brushing his hand across the blush spread across your face.

The other boys burst in with even more food than before, wearing grins that tells you they’ve been listening from the other side of the door. Kai quickly pulls his hand away.

“We’re back!” Taehyun sings, setting a large bag of pastries onto your lap. “We didn’t know what you wanted, so we got one of everything.”

“Are you guys official yet?” Soobin asks, mouth already full of a cream donut.

“Yes, Soobin, Y/N and I are getting married tomorrow. Will you officiate?”

Huening Kai is making jokes around you. He’s laughing and smiling and being the bubbly guy you’ve always seen from afar. The only difference now is that he’s finally within your reach.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @beomgyubabybear @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ CONSCIENCES EDGE (randy orton x fem!reader, ft. edge)

ೃ༄ PAIRING: randy orton x fem! reader, brief edge x fem!reader (just flirting)

ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: anon

hi! can i request randy orton x fem!reader when they are dating and in a tag team match but against each other. and randy’s opponent keeps flirting with (y/n) in front of him to gets him mad. please :)

ೃ༄ WARNINGS: possessive!randy, slightly suggestive, edge being a taunt

ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

ೃ༄ NOTE: anon i really hope this is at least somewhat what you wanted because i had SO much fun with this request eek (as you can tell by how fast i wrote it). pls excuse the self indulgence that is: me adding adam as y/n’s partner but truthfully i would love to be in a sandwich between randy and adam so it just felt right (title pun is 110% intended)

the wwe universe knew two things for certain about randy orton:

1. he was an absolute monster in the ring.

2. he adored you.

when the two of you first debuted your relationship, he made the latter very clear, never missing an opportunity to have his hands on you — whether this be on your waist, his fingers in yours, or the possessive hold when he stood with his fingers dancing over your ass. randy orton did not share his women, and you were no exception.

so when the storyline called for you to turn on him, the wwe universe went up in flames. whilst some were undoubtedly unsure on how said story would unfold, most were exhilarated by how you came out night after night to sabotage the man you once loved front stage and centre. you were one of the greatest heels most fans had seen, and despite your villainous position, they loved you all the more for it.

of course, they never knew what went on backstage. how after you taunted the man in the ring, you’d fall straight back into his arms in a hotel bed that you wouldn’t leave until the morning.

it was when the story called for teaming up that people really lost their minds. a series of backstage segments that followed randy as he sought out someone to finally take you down. he settled on none other than than trish stratus in all of her powerful glory — your current competitor for the title, and that was when all hell broke loose. in a title match against trish, just as you began readying up for your finisher, randy ran in to prevent trish from losing her title, and solidifying themselves as the team which you would go up against.

then it was your turn to shine, a setup for how you’d end up here. trish and randy had promised a battle, and you were going to give them one in what the crowd believed would be a handicap match. you, and the writers, had other plans.

all three of you had taken the stage, ready to fight it out for the greatest prize of all, bragging rights, when the lights went dark once more. a known, and feared you think you know me? echoing through the dark arena. the crowd could clearly see randy’s face, the expression of shock as his former tag team partner turned enemy entered the arena and came to stand by your side — then the stage was set.

unbeknownst to your competitors, you and edge had an agreement. you’d follow the choreography, stick to the plan, except it was always fun to rile your out of ring boyfriend up, and who better to take the lead than the rated r superstar himself?

as the match started, you and trish taking first turn, you wasted no time in flooring trish, watching as she sold it to the crowd whilst you waltzed back to where edge stood at ring side. he didn’t touch you to avoid tagging himself in, but his intent was evident as he leant over the top rope, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip.

“i’d let you do that to me any day, sweetheart.”

from the other side of the ring, over the roar of the crowd you could hear the faint growl of your boyfriend, followed by movement as he stalked closer to observe the interaction.

trish recovered quickly, and the two of you returned to going back and forth for several minutes until she unleashed her cat fight move on you, and it was your turn to sell. if you glanced behind you from where you lay on the floor, you could see the watchful eyes of randy darting between your pained position on the floor, and your tag partner who was positioned in a crouch, undoubtedly showing randy he was staring at your ass.

when you dragged yourself to the side, eye to eye with a curled over edge, you were hyper aware of how randy watched intensely.

edge grinned, a knowing look in his eye as he made sure randy heard every word. “you look good when you’re all worked up.”

you smirked, unable to hide your own amusement at the snarl you heard from your right, before outstretching your hand to allow edge to tag himself in.

carefully, you rolled under the bottom rope, trish doing the same. but before your feet had even landed on the floor, randy had dragged edge into the ring and delivered a harder than necessary back elbow to the man’s chest. you winced for the sake of the show, but couldn’t deny the way your heart swelled seeing your boyfriend so agitated over you.

once again; randy orton did not share his women, and this was no different.

the two men put on a good show, wrestling back and forth with a series of high rope moves from both that most wrestlers wouldn’t dare perform. as scripted, edge managed to get randy with a spear before the latter kicked out of an undeniably dirty pin, but it just gave the man the perfect opportunity.

he tagged you in slyly, reaching for your hand but instead making sure he bypassed at the last second and made the contact via running his hand down the side of your waist and to your ass. the crowd roared as you and trish took your places again, but the look on randy’s face as he was pushed out of the ring by his own partner was immortalised in your brain forever.

it was a look that said everything: you’re mine.

when the battle began again, you were hyper aware of the weakened shouts from an (acting) injured edge, showering you with compliments that had you pretending to preen until suddenly they all stopped. you glanced to your side to see the cause of the silence, being greeted by the unplanned side of randy having edge pressed against the ropes, hands on the man’s shoulders until edge was forced to flip back into the ring.

the commotion was enough to distract you so that trish could execute a clothes line, knocking you to the ground as she tagged randy back in to continue whatever shallow beat out he was doing on your partner.

edge was well and truly down by now, and you made your attempt to exit the ring and let him fend for himself when a firm hand wrapped around your wrist.

instead of being met by your partners tag, you were pulled into the strong chest of randy himself, the man wasting no time before crashing your lips together. unplanned, but welcomed, you couldn’t help but kiss back just as forcefully, not caring that the cameras were catching every moment of the heated make out session right in the middle of the ring.

one of randy’s hands slipped down to exactly where edge’s had been, giving your ass a firm squeeze to elicit a gasp that let him deepen the kiss. it was filthy, and borderline offensive to the tv rules, but when randy pulled back and you saw the fire in his eyes, you were about ready to jump him right there.

one last bite to your shoulder and randy was moving again, stalking towards where edge lay writhing near the corner of the ring. he moved him just enough to pin him without a rope break, and when edge was unable to kick out, randy and trish solidified their dinner status. but, instead of moving to celebrate with his partner, randy walked straight back to your side.

his lips were back on yours again, this time pulling your teeth between his bottom lip in a show that would surely have you pulled into the office post match. you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not as one of his hands gripped at your waist, the other holding your head by the back of the neck so you couldn’t escape the kiss even if you wanted to.

not that you wanted to.

when he finally broke away, eyes ablaze as the crowd lost their minds, you could see the redness in his face from the possessiveness.

he looked like he wanted to eat you alive, and you welcomed every thought of it.

“you’re mine.” he punctuated his words with a kiss to the side of your mouth, open mouthed and dirty as could be. “only mine.”

“i know.” you whispered, enjoying the sensation of randy’s lips travelling down your neck. he didn’t care for rules in that moment as he latched his lips to the crook of your neck, a gasp leaving your own mouth before you could stop it. you raised a weak hand to the back of his neck as your knees buckled under the very public attention “only yours.”

3. above every woman in the world, randy orton had never, and would never share you.

details on how to request on my page

[seravphs]

confectionery

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SUNA x MAID! FEM READER; KAICHOU WA MAID SAMA AU

Suna becomes a regular at your maid cafe - a regular thorn in your side, that is. 

wc — 1.4k

tags — fluff, reader works at a maid cafe 

next: omakase | shoujo series masterlist

“Yes, master,” you practically bite out the words.

Suna raises an eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you missing something?”

Ugh. This man is insufferable. With a pained smile, you wince through the last part of your mandatory response to orders. “Nya! One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait coming right up!” 

In the back room, you drop to your knees, cradling your head in your hands now that you're safely hidden from the eyes of your customers. 

You have to do it. 

You have to kill this man. 

There’s no way you can keep serving him these ridiculous orders. You’re going to die of embarrassment. If it’s him or you, you’re going to choose yourself. 

Working at a maid cafe only started because of your best friend. She convinced you to do it with her, only to quit a few weeks in. You had stayed, against your better judgement. 

“Please,” you remember her begging, tugging on your hand beseechingly. “The pay is so good! Just think about it - 20 dollars an hour?”

To a high schooler, that was a crazy amount of money. Both of you gasped when you saw the flyer, imagining everything you could do with that kind of cash. 

“But if I saw someone I knew, I’d die of embarrassment,” you remind her. Sometimes it feels like it falls to you to be the rational one of the pair of you. She dreams and you keep her grounded. 

“No one will see! Who comes to this part of town anyways?”

Rintarou Suna does, as you find out one day when you’re taking out the trash. 

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, making you yelp. You spin around, ready to scream for your manager. You can never be too careful as a young girl flouncing around these streets in a maid dress. 

“I thought it was you,” he says, wide-eyed and clearly stunned. 

You drop the trash in the bin and sprint away from him, only to hear the distinct sounds of footsteps after you. You’ve seen Suna play for your school’s volleyball team. There’s no way you’re out running him. 

Luckily, the cafe is just ahead. 

It might be embarrassing for you to be caught in your black and white frilly lace and poufs of tulle, but it’s just as embarrassing for Suna to be caught entering. He’s one of the star athletes on your school’s incredibly strong volleyball team - he can get any girl he wants. Why would he come in here?

Suna crashes through the open door a split second later, interrupting your monologue. 

“Hi,” he says, not even breathing hard. “Table for one, please. Oh, and I want her.”

You should’ve known that thinking rationally would never apply to men who have no social awareness. Suna simply does not care. More than anything, that lack of interest is what makes him such an unmanageable beast.

“What do you want?” You whisper furiously, under your breath. It’s still not low enough for your manager to ignore, though, and she shoots you a reprimanding look over the counter. “Master,” you tack on to the end of your sentence. 

“I think I’ll start with a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait,” he says with a smile. “With the add on.”

You stare him down. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If you share my parfait with me, I’ll tell you.” 

“One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait. That’s all?”

Sharing dessert with Suna in an inappropriately adorable cafe feels much too close to a date for your liking. The parfait is a frothy work of art. It’s a monstrosity of a confectionery, starting with a base of hand crumbled crackers. Each layer alternates between warm biscuit, sweet cream, or fruity jam, all topped with a swirl of whipped frosting and slices of fruit.

To be honest, you didn’t think it would be to Suna’s taste. You hate to judge by appearance, but Suna doesn’t strike you as someone who would like dessert. He’s not a bad boy exactly, not in the conventional sense, but he’s not the target audience for this cafe, either. His nonchalance and blank expression makes him feel unapproachably cool. 

The underclassmen look up to him. You see them crowd outside your classroom during break, waiting for the chance to talk to him. Part of the legend is his style. He rolls into class looking effortlessly tousled, his jacket hanging askew on his shoulders. He only has one piercing in his left ear. You heard a rumor that he let Osamu pierce it for him at an away game, only to get benched by Captain Kita as punishment. 

Suna wears mostly black. He blasts rap on the way to school in his headphones. He likes sneakers and he’ll wait on a queue for hours at a pop-up just to snag his dream pair. When he smiles, one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other. He wears rings that his younger sister makes for him. Sometimes he comes to school with colorful butterfly clips in his hair to hold his bangs back if he hasn’t gotten a haircut in time. You know that’s his sister’s work, too. 

You hadn’t realized you knew so much about Suna. You hadn’t realized you were looking. 

His spoon clinks against yours gently. 

“You can eat, you know.”

Mechanically, your spoon starts to move. As soon as the tartness of the berry hits your tongue, it’s immediately followed by the sweetness of the cream. Your eyes widen. Despite working here for a while now, you’ve never had one of the desserts. It’s surprisingly good. 

“Right?” Suna chuckles. 

Because he’s usually quiet, eating and talking with Suna feels strange at first. You’re not used to having his undivided attention on you. The ice breaks as soon as you notice the way his hair is sticking up in the back, like a duck’s tail. When you point out his messy head, he shrugs and makes no move to fix it. 

“Brushing my hair is a pain,” he says. 

It makes you giggle. It might be lazy, but it’s strangely charming. Before you know it, Suna’s drawn you in with his insouciant smiles and effortless ability to lead a conversation. It’s not that he’s naturally charismatic, but something about the way he listens and responds has you preening under his attention. 

You’re almost upset when he calls for the check. He seems to notice.

“I’ll be back!” He calls as he leaves. 

“Don’t-“ 

He’s already gone. 

You realized he never told you why he came. 

Most teenage boys would be embarrassed to make a maid cafe their normal hang out spot, but Suna comes on the dot every single day. Your coworkers have taken to referring to a table in your section as Suna’s table. He always orders the Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, and he always makes you draw a little chocolate heart on it. 

You love your coworkers, you really do. You don’t think you would’ve worked here as long as you have if they didn’t feel like family to you, but sometimes older sisters can be annoying. 

Case in point: Shizuka, one of the older maids, just ruined a con you’ve been running on Suna for a long time. 

“You’re not doing it right,” Shizuka scolds you. “You forgot the ‘nya!’”

You flinch. 

Suna’s eyes widen. “Oh? Tell me more.” 

“When you order a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, we’re supposed to go ‘Nya! Of course, master!’” 

Suna pins you underneath an uncompromising stare. “Do you know how many of these I’ve ordered? You owe me a lot of ‘Nyas.’”

“Suna,” you say pleadingly, your face burning with mortification. 

He relents, a little. Something about your expression makes him melt, his eyes softening a minuscule amount. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. “Fine,” he smiles. “You can just start now.”

The minute you finish your humiliating speech, you vow revenge on Suna, but he just laughs. It’s too easy to get used to him. If you don’t actively remind yourself that he is your classmate, that you don’t actually know him that well, and that you first spoke to him just this week, it would all be too easy to feel like you’re friends. 

That’s why you have to draw a line in the sand before he can get even closer. You’re scared to find out how this ends. You’d rather cut him out of your life now. This is probably a game for Suna, but for you it’s something else.

It’s hard to remember all of that when he waits until the end of your shift to walk you home. He’s standing by the door, making small talk with your manager, who adores him. 

“Ready to go?” 

When you nod, he grabs your bag from you. The way he acts is so straightforward. You wouldn’t describe Suna as confident, but rather flexible. He takes everything that happens as it comes, and never lets it break his stride. Things are easy for him because he chooses to let them be. When he walks, his hand bumps yours once, twice. 

It’s easy. The hands. The act of being with him. 

It’s not a long walk home, but you wish it was. Fifteen minutes isn’t enough time for you to work up the courage to tell him what you need to say. Thankfully, he breaks the silence first. 

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s up?” 

“You need to stop coming,” you tell him, hating the words even as they come out of your mouth. 

He stops, forcing you to stop with him. “Why? Are you actually mad?” 

You wish you could say yes, but you can’t. You shake your head, praying Suna can just take the hint and leave you alone. 

He blinks at you. “Then no can do, ma’am.” 

“Why do you even come?” You hope his answer can push you to take the step you need, but it only cements him further in your heart. 

He smiles at you in a way you’ve come to associate with Suna, sweet and uncomplicated. “I just like cute things.” 

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 13: "Breaking the News"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 7.6k

a/n: This installment is quite painful and there is still no comfort to be had in this series quite yet, friends. But hey, it's the long anticipated moment where Matt learns the truth, right? And you get a Matt POV at the end. Plus this one is LONG. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks (some of you I cannot tag so please check your settings!)

Shifting back and forth on your feet outside of Foggy’s apartment, you anxiously waited for him to answer the door. Both of your now sweat-slicked hands were firmly gripping the six pack of beer you’d picked up on your way over, hoping it would help ease the sting of what you were here to tell him. You were beyond terrified of his reaction and just hoping he would take the news as well as you figured he could.

You could hear Foggy’s muffled voice as he made his way through the apartment, the door swinging open a few moments later. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably in knots as Foggy’s beaming face came into view. You felt terrible that he had no idea why you’d asked to stop by tonight, and judging by the look on his face, he clearly thought it was just a friendly social visit.

“Hey!” he greeted brightly, saying your name. “Come on in!” 

“Hey, Fog,” you greeted him back nervously.

Stepping inside, you awkwardly slipped out of your shoes as Foggy closed the door behind you. The rapidly beating thrum of your heart felt loud to your own ears as you sent him a tight smile. Foggy’s attention dropped down to the beer in your hands, his eyes further lighting up.

“Oh man, I am so glad you actually brought some beer because you know what?” he began, making his way towards the worn gray couch in his living room. “This whole week has been rough. Like an absolute shit show at the office. I could’ve started drinking hours ago.”

Hesitantly you followed after Foggy, making your way over towards his couch and watching as he sank down onto a cushion. Feeling even worse after hearing that his week had been difficult already, you awkwardly set the beer on his coffee table before sliding out two bottles and handing one to him. He thanked you before twisting off the cap, tossing it next to the six pack on the coffee table. Feeling slightly sick to your stomach, you opened your beer before settling onto the couch. Immediately you took a long pull from the bottle, swallowing the alcohol down and hoping it would quickly help dull your nerves. Except when you lowered the bottle to your lap, spotting Foggy across from you on the couch rubbing at his temples, your nerves only increased.

“So uh, bad week?” you asked lamely.

Foggy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s an understatement,” he replied. “We almost lost the trial yesterday. The whole thing was a massive headache. Matt has been a little too distracted this week with who the hell knows what, but he was off. Like way off this week. He was nothing like his usual self.”

“Oh,” you whispered, not wanting to think about Matt right now.

“But anyway, it’s Friday tomorrow and things should hopefully be looking up,” Foggy concluded, the smile returning to his face. “I’m going to try to remain optimistic that tomorrow will be better. But what about you? How’s work been going for you? And how’re things with your man? I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

Gripping the bottle of beer a little tighter in your hands, you took a deep breath and tried to prepare yourself for the news you were about to break.

“Well, Adam and I…broke up,” you admitted slowly.

Foggy’s eyes grew wide immediately, one hand lowering the beer from his mouth before he could even take a drink. He was leaning towards you on the couch, his mouth open in shock. You watched as he struggled to take a moment to process the information.

“You–you guys broke up? When?” Foggy asked.

Biting your lip, you looked away. Your cheeks were burning from the guilt at having kept Foggy in the dark for so long, but you hadn’t been ready to tell Foggy the full truth about why you’d broken up and that you were possibly moving. And there hadn’t really been a way to explain things away to him without lying in front of Matt–which you knew Matt would’ve called you out on. 

“It’s been a few months now,” you told him. 

“What?” he asked in shock. 

Foggy was quickly sliding over to you on the couch, reaching over to set his beer on the coffee table before his focus fully turned on you. You could already feel the tears forming when you saw that damn sympathetic look on his face again.

“Dude, hey, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you and Adam broke up?” he questioned. “You tell me everything . What happened?”

“He wanted more from me than I could give him,” you confessed, lips trembling. “Because I–I'm still…”

Foggy’s face instantly fell, knowing exactly what you meant without you even needing to finish your sentence. He nodded slowly.

“Matt?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Matt.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Foggy said, one of his hands landing comfortingly on your shoulder. “I really thought maybe Adam had been the one to get you past your feelings for him. You both seemed so happy together.”

“We were, to an extent,” you told him. “Until Erica came into the picture and reminded me that I can’t just push my feelings for Matt under a rug.”

“So that’s why you broke up then?” Foggy asked. “Because you still have feelings for Matt?”

“Well,” you began slowly, your mouth suddenly going dry, “there was…something else.”

Foggy straightened on the couch instantly, his eyes narrowing curiously back at you. You felt his hand tighten on your shoulder just a bit.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Did he–was he…?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, he wasn’t cheating. But I–I was offered a new position at work a few days before we broke up.”

You swore Foggy’s entire body had frozen on the couch. It didn’t even look like he was breathing anymore. 

“It uh, it has a huge pay increase–almost double my current salary,” you continued, your stomach nervously churning as you did. “But it’s–it’s out in L.A. And Adam didn’t want to leave his job and his family here. Which is why he mentioned things like moving in together and–and possibly marriage down the road. He wanted me to stay for him. But I couldn’t see those things with him. And I tried really hard to, but I just–just couldn’t. So we broke up. And then afterwards I’d been…considering the job offer.”

Foggy’s lips thinned out, tears shining noticeably in his own eyes as he sat so still beside you. You could feel your own tears ready to fall at the way he was looking at you.

“You're taking it, aren't you?” he whispered. “You’re taking the job?”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you nodded. “Yeah, Fog,” you answered. “I accepted it. They offered it months ago and I’d been waiting until it was a sure thing before I told you.”

Foggy sniffled loudly, his hand releasing your shoulder to wipe the heel of it across his watery eyes. “So you’ve known for a while?” he asked.

���Like I said, it wasn’t a sure thing,” you told him. “My company was still trying to get their new office set up out there for the past couple of months. But I officially accepted the offer at the beginning of this week. I uh, I’m flying out this weekend to find an apartment, but I’ll be back on Monday for work.”

“Fuck,” Foggy swore, turning and slumping defeatedly back into the the couch. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Licking your lips nervously, your attention dropped down to the beer in your lap. Your fingers were drumming along the brown bottle as you heard Foggy curse again. Slowly you tried to inhale a deep breath, struggling to keep your resolve. You knew this was going to be difficult, but you also knew you needed to do this.

“Why are you leaving?” Foggy asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“I told you,” you began, “I was offered a position that–”

“No,” he said, cutting you off firmly and sitting upright again, the movement and tone catching your eye. “No, that’s not why you’re leaving. It’s because of this thing with Matt, isn’t it? You’re leaving because of him.”

Stunned, your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to form a sentence. Were you that transparent?

“Fog, I–”

“You’re running away, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Admit it. You’re running away from him.”

“Foggy, I can’t do this anymore,” you confessed, a few tears finally spilling over. “Yes, okay? Yes, I’m running away from Matt. Because I love him and he knows it, but what he feels for me isn’t the same. It’ll never be the same.” 

You brushed a hand absently over your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had slipped out. Fuck, you were so sick of crying.

“I love him, Fog,” you said, voice breaking on his name. “And it hurts so fucking bad. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To be in love with your best friend for years ?”

Tears were openly streaming down Foggy’s face now as he listened to you. He kept dabbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, but more tears kept coming in their stead. The sight of him crying was only further causing more of your own tears to fall.

“I see him all of the time, Foggy,” you continued, emotion thick in your voice. “It hurts to even hug him knowing it means something else to me than it does to him. And it’s like I swear I feel something everytime we do. It’s like this–this warm, happy, safe feeling washes over me. Like I could just–just stay there forever. But then I have to remind myself he’s just my friend and it hurts .” Sniffling loudly, you tried to keep your voice even as the words continued to pour out of you. “Now he’s with Erica. And you’ve seen him with her, Fog. He’s got that lovesick puppy look around her all of the time. He’s been crazy about her for months. It’s like Elektra all over again, except Erica isn’t necessarily bad for him. Their relationship, despite how busy Erica always is, is one that I could see becoming something more, you know?”

“Marriage?” Foggy asked.

Grimacing, you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “And if it’s not her, it’s going to be someone else. Someone who isn’t me. And Fog, I–I can’t–can’t–”

The words got stuck in your throat, and no matter how hard you tried, it was a choked sob that fell out of you instead. Foggy was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a hug. Burying your face into his shoulder, you openly wept at the thought of having to witness Matt get married to someone else. It had been painful for years to see him sleep around with countless women at Columbia, even worse when he’d been so stuck on Elektra with how awful she was for him. And then it stung watching him date and sleep around even more after that. But seeing him in a relationship now that might be eventually going towards something serious down the road? That had been the line you had to draw.

“I can’t be here to see that,” you choked out, shaking your head against Foggy’s shoulder as the tears continued to fall from your eyes. “It would–would kill me, Fog. I can’t–can’t see him marry someone else. I can’t do it. I can’t .”

“But why do you have to go?” Foggy whispered. “Why do you have to leave me, too?”

“Because Matt will always be here,” you answered softly. “And as long as he’s within reach, I’ll always be reaching for him.”

Pulling away from Foggy, you wiped roughly at your eyes. His arms released you slowly, coming to wipe at his own eyes that were still watering.

“I’m sorry, Fog,” you whispered. “But you can still come visit. So can Karen. And–and maybe someday I’ll come back and visit you here. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

“Have you told Matt?” Foggy asked.

The question felt like a punch to the gut. You winced at the mention of Matt, that ache in your chest painfully growing. You wondered if anything would ever get rid of it. 

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I haven’t.”

“How long until you leave?” Foggy asked.

Your focus dropped down to the beer in your lap. Fingers fidgeting nervously with the label, you refused to look at Foggy when you spoke next.

“About three more weeks,” you said.

“Shit,” he breathed out. “So when–when are you going to tell him?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t even know how to look him in the face and tell him this. I don’t know how I’m going to–” you paused, eyes snapping shut, “–to say goodbye to him.” 

“He deserves to know,” Foggy pointed out. “He deserves a chance to say goodbye to you.”

“I know,” you breathed out. “I know.”

Turning the corner, your eyes landed on the red neon sign for Josie’s bar. Your arms wrapped anxiously around yourself, hugging your body tight as you made your way down the sidewalk towards it, maneuvering through the evening foot traffic on the sidewalk. 

Tonight was the night. You'd asked Fog and Matt to come out with you to Josie’s. It would be just the three of you this evening, no significant others. Just like old times. 

And you were going to tell Matt you were moving in three days. 

You'd admittedly cried a lot back at your apartment while you'd gotten ready to come out. Just thinking about what you were going to say to Matt and knowing how soon you would be saying goodbye had gotten you instantly emotional. And you knew Matt was going to be upset with you tonight. You were telling him just days before you left. It hadn’t been intentional, you’d certainly tried to tell him over the weeks before, but you had kept putting it off because you'd been too much of a coward, too afraid to tell him so many other times before. But now that your flight out of New York City was literally days away, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t keep putting it off.

Opening the door to Josie’s and stepping inside, you were instantly hit with that musty, moldy smell that always seemed to mix with the scent of alcohol and sweat here. It wasn’t much cooler inside than it was outside tonight you noticed, your eyes scanning the bar for a sign of Matt and Foggy. You spotted them by a table at the far back of the bar, your eyes connecting to Foggy’s almost instantly. He sent you a sad smile, waving you over. You tried your best not to look miserable in return as you approached the table.

“You finally made it,” Matt said, shooting you a wide grin. “Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

The smile you tried to return him probably looked pained, but you knew despite his senses he couldn’t quite tell that. For a moment you stood there standing beside the table, your eyes scanning Matt over where he sat. That handsome, charming smile was still spread wide across his face. You noticed his beard was a bit darker and thicker than usual beneath his red glasses tonight, and he was dressed in his usual white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his muscular forearms on display as he rested his arms on the table. 

The sight of him alone felt like a stab to the heart. Blinking hard, you forced yourself to look away as you situated yourself in the chair across the table from him. Turning, you focused your attention on Foggy to the left of you instead. You needed a moment to try to collect yourself.

“Yeah,” you said, finally responding to Matt. “I was running a little late, sorry. I hope you guys weren’t waiting too long.”

“Just a few minutes,” Matt replied. “Not a big deal. I grabbed you a beer, hope that’s alright.”

He slid a bottle across the table towards you, your eyes following the movement of it. For some reason the little act of thoughtfulness had your heart squirming in your chest. It was just a beer, after all. It didn’t mean anything. It’s not like you all hadn’t bought drinks for each other many times in the past.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

A silence fell across the three of you when Matt drew his own beer to his lips for a drink. Your eyes landed on Foggy, noticing him shooting you a pointed look. He’d been on your ass about telling Matt you were leaving for weeks now, and it was apparent on his face that he was mentally screaming at you to rip the bandaid off and just tell him already. 

“So uh, how’s work been?” you asked.

Foggy’s eyes narrowed at you and you quickly glanced down at the table, ignoring the sharp look on his face. You didn’t want to just sit down and drop the news in Matt’s lap the moment you showed up. You, at the very least, needed a minute to prepare yourself.

“Busy,” Foggy replied simply. “How’s work been for you?”

Nervously your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. You knew what he was doing. It felt like your throat was closing up at just the thought of saying ‘I’m moving in three days’ to Matt.

“Good,” you answered.

Foggy’s eyes only narrowed further at you. Unable to stand the weight of his glare, you glanced across the table to Matt. But that had proven to be a terrible idea because he was focused straight on you, his head tilted a bit to the side. His dark brows had furrowed together, slightly drawing down below the red lenses he wore.

You knew that look. Ever since you’d learned that Matt was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and you’d been informed about his heightened senses, you’d come to recognize when Matt was picking up on something. Zeroed in on it. And right now he was very focused on you. That alone had your pulse increasing, wondering how much he was picking up on– what he was picking up on.

“You doing alright?” Matt asked you.

Clearing your throat, your attention dropped back to the table. Saying yes was an obvious lie. Saying no would leave you telling Matt the truth right here and now and you weren’t sure the words were going to come out yet. You weren’t sure you were ready for the way he’d surely be upset with you at the news. 

“I’m just stressed,” you said–not technically a lie.

There was a brief pause. You could feel both men staring at you and you felt yourself shrinking further in on yourself in response.

“Stressed about what?” Matt pressed.

“Work,” you answered simply.

“What about work?” Foggy pushed.

One of your hands grabbed onto your beer bottle, squeezing it tight in your fist. You felt like you were going to explode, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

“Why don’t we talk about work a little later?” you suggested, teeth gritting together.

Your focus flew up to Foggy, the pair of you locking eyes. There was a very disappointed expression currently resting on his face. For some reason when you saw his mouth open, your own did, too. But instead of blurting the truth to Matt, you found yourself blurting something almost as bad before Foggy could speak.

“How’re Marci and Erica?”

You cringed the moment the question left you, realizing you’d asked Matt to indulge you with details about his relationship. That was not what you wanted. Even Foggy’s expression softened at your question, aware of your mistake.

“Marci’s been busy with work, but doing good,” Foggy answered.

��Great,” you replied stiffly.

Grinding your teeth together, you turned your attention to Matt. There was no backing out of enduring this tidbit about Erica because you’d asked for it. You were just going to have to force the strained smile to stay on your lips as you waited for Matt to stab you in the heart yet again.

“Uh, she’s doing well,” Matt answered slowly, his focus seeming to shift between you and Foggy for a moment.

“Fantastic,” you stated, the strained smile still on your mouth.

You drew your beer up to your lips for another drink, feeling like you desperately needed it. When Matt suddenly spoke again, you hadn’t been expecting it. 

“Actually,” he said, his tone a little off, “there was something I was hoping to talk to you both about. Since it’s been quite some time since we’ve been together like this. Just the three of us. I figured I’d tell you both something that’s been on my mind recently.”

Swallowing down your beer, you slowly lowered the bottle to the table. Your attention shifted to Foggy, one of your brows raising curiously. He made a face, lightly shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in return. He looked just as confused as you were.

“It’s about Erica,” Matt began.

You sucked in a breath, holding it as your eyes flew back to Matt and you waited in anticipation. Had they broken up? Had Matt finally told her the truth about himself and she couldn’t handle it? Was she…cheating on him?

“Look, I know it’s not been quite seven months yet, but I’ve been thinking about just taking the plunge,” Matt continued on, his words tumbling out rapidly. “She’s really great. And she’s an intelligent, driven, successful woman. And we get along so well. I–I’ve found myself thinking about marriage lately.”

It took your brain a few seconds to process what Matt had just said, but when you did, your jaw literally dropped. He hadn’t been with Erica for quite seven months yet, but he was already thinking about marrying her? 

Your breath literally caught in your throat as you sat there in absolute shock. You couldn’t breathe. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Foggy’s head instantly whip in your direction. His eyes were wide, his mouth also hanging open in complete surprise.

“Guys?” Matt said nervously. “Care to say something?”

He wanted to marry Erica.

He wanted to marry her .

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her .

Your right hand flew up to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt roughly in your fingers. There was a sharp pain shooting straight through your heart in a way you’d never felt before. Were you about to have a panic attack? A heart attack maybe? Was that what this was? 

You might actually throw up. 

“That’s uh…” Foggy said, voice trailing off as he tried to search for words.

“A good thing?” Matt suggested.

You could hear your pulse hammering in your own ears as you tried to inhale a shaky breath. Fuck, why was it so hard to breathe? Across the table, Matt focused back on you, saying your name with a note of concern.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked slowly. “You don’t sound…alright.”

He just fucking told you he wanted to marry Erica when he knew you were in love with him. Of course you weren’t fucking alright . You were the farthest goddamn thing from alright .

“Does she know?” you breathed out.

“Well…no,” Matt answered slowly. “I haven’t bought up the topic quite yet but I–”

“Does she know who you really are?” you pressed, cutting him off as your hand clutched your chest tighter. “ Does she know ?”

You swore you saw his eyes narrow behind his glasses in the dim light of Josie’s. His lips pressed firmly together in what appeared to be a hint of irritation.

“No,” he answered, his tone darkening a bit. “She doesn’t know that yet, but I don’t think it will be a problem at the moment. She’s mentioned always wanting a long engagement, so I’d have plenty of time to figure it out with her. I don’t think it would be an issue, and until then, she’d want to probably stay at her place near her work. Which means I could keep doing what I’ve been doing. We’d just have to figure that all out later. We’d make it work.”

A bitter laugh fell out of you before you could stop it. Didn’t he hear how stupid that sounded? What the hell sort of hold did she have on him? Why was he so stuck on her? He deserved so much better than being with someone who didn’t know him. He deserved someone who saw all of him and wanted him still. Who loved him for the man he was, crazy and frustrating as he could be sometimes. 

Someone like you.

But of course you were never good enough. He'd rather propose to a woman that didn't know he could smell what she'd eaten for lunch when she saw him after work. That had no idea he was risking his life most nights to save the people in the part of the city he loved so dearly.

“She will never move to Hell’s Kitchen with how much she dislikes it, and you’ll never leave it,” you stated sharply, anger quickly growing within you at how ridiculous this whole situation was beginning to sound. “How does that work, Matthew?”

Matt’s brows entirely pulled together behind his lenses, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. “Well I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” he shot back, a sharper edge to his tone. “You’re not part of this relationship.”

You gaped at him, momentarily stunned and hurt. A second later your eyes darted over to Foggy, seeing him sitting there in absolute mortification at whatever was happening between you and Matt. He looked like a deer in the headlights.  

“Well, Matthew ,” you said bitterly, focusing back on him across the table and not even bothering to hide your anger at this point. What did it matter anymore? You were leaving in three days anyway. “I think it’s a bit absurd that you want to propose to a woman who doesn’t even know you, when you have absolutely no fucking idea where you both would even live together, after not quite seven months of dating. Doesn’t sound like you thought more than three seconds about this whole thing.”

“Excuse me?” he snapped, his dark brows shooting up onto his forehead. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think it sounds like you’re clinging to her like you clung to Elektra,” you snapped. “For whatever fucking reason you did.” 

Matt sat back in his chair, a look of surprise mingled with hurt written on his face. Part of you felt bad for that low blow, but you didn’t have long to feel that way before Matt was leaning forward again, his face set in a firm expression.

“Just because things didn’t work out how you wanted for yourself, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to sit here stuck in one place,” Matt shot back.

His words felt like a slap to the face. You sat there for a moment, the tears burning in your eyes at the audacity of him saying that to you. Of him knowing how you felt about him, telling you he wanted to marry another woman, and then throwing your feelings back at you like that.

Swallowing hard, you abruptly pushed your chair back and rose to your feet. Matt was still sitting and seething on the other side of the table, focused on your movements. Foggy’s face looked like it was permanently stuck in a mixture of shock and horror as he sat in utter silence.

“Fuck you, Matt,” you growled. “I never thought you were that much of an asshole to throw my feelings for you like that back in my fucking face.”

Matt straightened instantly in his chair, his expression shifting rapidly. “What?” he asked.

“I said fuck you ,” you spat, tears starting to make their way down your cheeks. “For knowing I’ve had feelings for you all these fucking years,” you barreled on, watching as his mouth immediately dropped open and his eyebrows shot up high onto his forehead, “and letting me think you were fucking dead for months and now making me listen to your bullshit desire to marry Erica. You’re not worth the goodbye. So fuck you, Matthew Murdock.”

You didn’t bother to wait for him to recover from the shock of your outburst, his body pin straight in his chair as he gaped at you in stunned silence. Turning on your heel, you stormed off out of Josie’s, fuming internally as you pushed the door open and made your way out into the night.

Matt sat in his chair, his mind racing as he listened to you making your exit from Josie’s. He could taste the salt of your tears and the venom of your anger in the air right before you'd left, but it was what he'd thought he'd heard you say that had him sitting dumbfounded in his seat. 

Had you said what he'd thought you'd said? Had that really happened?

"Shit, Matt," Foggy groaned out. "What the hell was that?"

Matt's head spun towards Foggy, shock still coursing through him. He could feel his hands shaking as they reached up, pulling his glasses from his face and lowering them to the table. 

"What did she just say?" he asked Foggy in disbelief. 

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s mouth dropped open yet again and the way his eyes had widened on his friend's face. Though Matt was more focused on the feel of his own racing heart in his chest as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"I think she said it pretty loud and clear, buddy," Foggy told him. "She's pissed at you. And I don't blame her one bit."

"No," Matt breathed out, shaking his head at Foggy. "Not that. The other part. The part about having feelings for me."

"I mean…yeah," Foggy replied matter-of-factly. "She's had them for you forever, dude. You knew that already though."

" What ?" Matt whispered in shock.

You…you'd had feelings for him? For Matt? For years ? And you both for some reason thought he knew that?

"Yeah, Matt," Foggy continued. "She's been crazy about you practically since she met you. She said you guys talked about this when she found out about your big secret. That was a while ago now. She said you'd told her you always had known she liked you because of your senses."

"I–what?" Matt stammered.

"Dude," Foggy said in exasperation. "Why are you acting like this is such big news?"

"Because it is , Fog!" Matt exclaimed. "She told me she was in love with you !"

Foggy froze, his mouth once again hanging wide open. Matt could feel the confusion practically rolling off of him in the chair beside him. Then he noticed Foggy quickly and firmly shaking his head. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Matt?" he asked. "When the hell did she tell you that ?"

"That night!" Matt shouted. “She told me that night!”

“No,” Foggy said, still shaking his head. “No, there’s no way, dude. Did she expressly say ‘Hey, Matt I’m in love with Foggy?’”

Matt opened his mouth, about to tell him yes, but then he stopped short. Because no, you hadn’t in fact said Foggy’s name exactly. You had never actually told him you had feelings for Foggy. He’d always just thought that’s who you’d meant and it had made sense. Even Elektra had been pushing that idea onto him, telling him that you were always pining after him. How obvious it was with the way you looked at Foggy. He’d always thought that was the truth.

Had he been wrong this whole time?

“No,��� Matt breathed out. “She–she never said your name. She never said any name.”

It felt like his entire world was falling apart around him. You’d never actually told him you liked Foggy. Never explicitly said his name. He’d just let Elektra’s words and his senses paint a story for him that he’d believed for so long. Which meant that night, over a year ago now when Elektra had dropped him off at your apartment, you’d been thinking he knew that you'd always had feelings for him because of his senses, when Matt had thought you had confirmed you'd always had feelings for Foggy this whole time. And that also meant that night when you hadn’t known who the masked man was and he’d found you drunk in that alley after your asshole ex had cheated on you–it had been him you’d really been crying over. You had both held each other tight that night crying over your feelings for each other in the rain.

All of this time he had been the friend who you’d had feelings for? How could he have been so fucking unaware? 

“Holy shit, you really didn’t know, did you?” Foggy asked in surprise. 

“No,” Matt repeated vehemently, his focus returning to Foggy. “No, Fog. I swore I thought she was always in love with you! Ever since she met you the pair of you just clicked! You were always spending so much time together. Both so alike. And her body was always reacting like crazy around you–but it…” he trailed off, blinking hard a few times. “It was me?”

Foggy reached out, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. He felt his friend give it a reassuring squeeze as he tried to process the influx of information suddenly rushing back to him. Every time he’d thought he was reading you reacting to Foggy, it had been him. How could he have read you so wrong for years?

“Fuck, I almost told her on graduation night,” Matt recalled, tears filling his eyes. “You’d fallen asleep and she was–was right there . I had been about to tell her I had feelings for her–about to kiss her–but then she suddenly panicked and I felt her fear. I thought it was because she knew I was going to and she had gotten scared. Because she wanted you .”

“Dude, no,” Foggy said, squeezing Matt’s shoulder again. “She probably was hoping you’d kiss her but afraid she was misreading the situation. That’s probably the fear you picked up on. She thinks you’ve only ever seen her as a friend, Matt.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“All this time I’ve just been–been misreading everything ?” Matt asked in shock.

“Clearly. But how the hell does that even happen with you? With what you can do?” Foggy questioned him. “And also–what the fuck, Matt? You’ve had feelings for our best friend all this time and you never fucking told me ?”

Matt’s attention returned to Foggy beside him, his sightless eyes intensely focused on him. “Do you remember that fall semester?” Matt asked earnestly. “That girl I told you I’d ran into?”

“Matt,” Foggy said with a sigh. “You ran into many girls.”

Matt shook his head quickly. “No, not like this. Not her. The one we called the White Whale?” he pushed.

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s brows drew together on his forehead. His hand fell away from Matt’s shoulder and instead came to run across his mouth as he took a moment to think back.

“Yeah,” Foggy eventually answered. “The girl you spent weeks looking around campus for. The one you were dying to meet. We came up with a bunch of ridiculous ways you might meet up with her over winter break.”

“Yes, her,” Matt replied in a rush. He whispered your name, feeling his heart twisting at the sound of it. “That was her . She was the White Whale, Fog.”

Foggy sat speechless for a moment, his hand still raised to his mouth as if he’d been taken off guard by Matt’s admission. Matt could hear Foggy’s heart rate elevating even further in his chest as he processed that information.

“You–you told me you met the White Whale and things hadn’t worked out, Matt,” Foggy pointed out. “You told me that.”

“Because I thought she’d fallen for you!” Matt shot back, gesturing a hand roughly at Foggy. “So I never told you it was her because I figured it didn't matter anymore. And I was–was an asshole and selfishly never said anything about the feelings I thought she had for you because I–I didn’t want to see you two together.”

“Fucking hell, Matt,” Foggy groaned, running a hand down his face. “What a fucking mess. So all this time you two idiots have had feelings for each other and nothing happened because no one fucking said anything?”

“I had no idea,” Matt whispered. “I had no idea she felt that way about me.”

“Ugh!” Foggy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Matt heard the way both of Foggy’s hands flew up to cover his face soon after, his hands rubbing agitatedly at his eyes. He could feel the irritation and frustration coming from his best friend, and he could feel something else exuding from him, too. But Matt didn’t take a moment to even wonder what it was as a thought suddenly struck him.

He shoved his chair back, swiftly rising to his feet. He was going to go after you. He had to. He had to tell you the truth. But Foggy’s hand abruptly grabbed onto his arm and it caused Matt to stop before he could even leave the table.

“What’re you doing?” Foggy asked him.

“Going after her,” Matt answered as if it was obvious. “I can’t leave her like that, Fog. I can’t let her continue thinking I knew all of this time that she had feelings for me and that I never felt the same. Because that’s not true. And I can't let her keep thinking that.”

“Matt, buddy, no,” Foggy replied quickly, tugging on his arm. “You just told her minutes ago that you were considering marrying someone else. And need I remind you–you’re still dating Erica. The woman you just told her you wanted to marry. You can't chase off after her in some grand romantic pursuit and tell her you have feelings for her. Not like this. She deserves better, Matt.”

A pained expression pulled at Matt’s face. He didn’t want to let you go back home feeling like this.Thinking what you were thinking. He didn’t want that. Especially knowing what he now knew. 

"What're you saying?" Matt asked.

"You want to tell her this?" Foggy questioned back. “That you have feelings for her?”

Matt nodded immediately. "Yes, Fog. Yes. I've wanted to tell her for years. I’ve come so close so many times," he confessed.

"Then do it when you're single, Matt," Foggy stated. "Don't you dare go chasing after her and telling her you have feelings when you're dating another woman. When you just finished talking about marrying another woman. Don't you do that to her, man. Because so help me, Matt, I don't care how well you throw a punch, I will hit you."

Matt's face slowly fell as he gradually slumped back down in his chair. Foggy was right. He had just dropped this idea of proposing to Erica on you–and God what an asshole he felt like now knowing how much that had to have hurt you to hear. No wonder you’d gotten so angry and your body’s stress levels had risen so quickly. And now he would sound like an ass chasing you down after that. But knowing how much pain he’d just caused you only increased that familiar heartache of his own that was currently twisting and constricting in his chest. He’d hurt you tonight. And probably countless nights over the years. How often had you been crying because of him ? He wanted to slam his fist through the table at the thought.

"Why the hell do you want to marry Erica anyway?" Foggy asked. “That seems so out of nowhere, man.”

"Because we–we get along," Matt answered lamely. "And she's always so busy so me being Daredevil has never caused an issue. It’s never been a problem. And I–I don't want to be alone,” he admitted, aware of how pathetic he sounded. “I figured Erica and I would figure things out later. That maybe she'd understand. I wasn’t really thinking things through, I admit that."

"Matt, Erica doesn't even know about your heightened senses," Foggy pointed out. "You can't get that serious with someone out of convenience and fear of being alone, buddy. It's wrong and it won't work out. That’s not fair to Erica, either."

"I know," Matt murmured, running a hand over his forehead. "You're right. You’re both right. I just–just thought I'd never have her and I was lonely. And when I was with Erica, she made me feel less lonely."

Foggy was shaking his head again. "That's not right, Matt. You can't do that to Erica."

"I know," he whispered, shamefully burying his face in his hands. "I'll talk to Erica tomorrow after work. I'll end the relationship. And then I'll talk to her." He whispered your name, his voice muffled by the hands over his face. He could feel the tears burning in his eyes. “I’ll tell her the truth. Everything.”

God did he want to tell you the truth so badly, too. He wondered how pissed at him you would be when you heard it. He wondered if there was anything he could do to make this whole situation salvageable. To fix all the things he’d fucked up, knowingly and unknowingly. He would do anything at all. Whatever it took.

"Well if you're going to tell her about your feelings you better hurry, Matt," Foggy said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re running out of time.”

Matt's brows drew together on his forehead. Something you'd said just before you left ran through his mind again. Something about him not being worth a goodbye. Matt felt his chest tightening further, a few tears slipping out of his eyes as he instantly drew his face from his hands and focused back on Foggy beside him.

"What's going on, Fog?" he asked anxiously. "You said she had something to tell me tonight. I'm guessing this wasn't it. So what is it?"

Foggy expelled a deep sigh, his grip on Matt’s shoulder growing a bit firmer. Matt felt his heart beating a bit erratically in his chest in the silence that followed, especially with the nervous sounds Foggy’s body was making right now. 

"She was offered a new position at work," he finally told Matt. "Really amazing pay–almost double her salary. But the job is in L.A. where her company is opening up a new office."

It felt like someone had ran Matt’s heart straight through with a knife. He had endured a lot of physical pain over the past few years running around the city at night, his body taking a lot of abuse. But the way those words struck Matt hurt more than any injury he'd ever sustained.  

"Is she–did she…?"

Foggy nodded solemnly. "Yeah," he answered. "She accepted it. She moves at the end of the week."

Matt's tongue felt heavy in his mouth, unable to swallow or form words as his lips began to tremble. You were leaving him. He just found out the truth–that you felt the same way after all this time–and you were leaving him. Moving to the other side of the country in a matter of days and he had no idea until just now. Days before you left.

"What–what about Adam?" Matt breathed out.

"They broke up months ago," Foggy replied. "She realized when you were with Erica that she just couldn't get over you. She hoped Adam might’ve been the one, but apparently he wasn’t.” Foggy sighed, his hand still comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder. “That's why she took the job, Matt. She's running from you. Running from her feelings for you."

Matt’s gaze dropped down to the table, more tears slowly sliding down his face. He’d done that to you, then. Hurt you so badly that you wanted to run from him. Put an entire country between the both of you. Now you didn’t even want to say goodbye to him. He winced at the pain of that thought.

"What if–if I told her?" he asked Foggy desperately, his focus returning to his friend. "What if I told her how I felt, Fog? Would she stay? Do you think she wouldn’t leave then?"

He heard the way the air shifted as Foggy shrugged in answer. The gesture didn't ease the constricting pain in Matt’s chest at all. Warm tears kept falling down Matt’s face as the weight of losing you slowly settled in his heart. 

"She can't–can't leave though," Matt croaked out, voice breaking as he shook his head. "She can't leave us–she can't leave me ."

Foggy rose slowly from his chair, crossing the space between the pair of them before wrapping Matt in a hug. Without hesitation Matt clung to his friend as a sob fell out of him, his face contorted in pain.

"She can't leave," Matt choked out. “She can’t , Fog.”

"I know, Matt," Foggy said, emotion thick in his voice. "I don't want her to go either."

"I lose everyone," Matt whispered. He clutched at Foggy’s dress shirt, entirely uncaring of who was watching the scene in Josie’s as he sobbed on his friend’s shoulder. "I can't lose her, too. I can't. I–I love her, Foggy. I love her."

"I’m sorry, Matt," Foggy replied, crying along with him. "But I don't know if there's anything either of us can do now."

[END NOTES]

More end notes this time because I often feel like this series needs it.

Matt now finally knows that Reader is not in love with Foggy! It only took YEARS for him to realize that--and it's only because Reader blurted it out in her anger at Matt having stupid thoughts about marrying someone who didn't even know all of him. Clearly he was clinging to Erica because he didn't think he could ever have Reader and he was trying to latch onto someone who made him feel good in the moment. Matt now also knows that Reader is leaving New York in just a matter of days, too. But, despite Matt now knowing the truth, Reader still has absolutely no idea that Matt has feelings for her. So what happens next? Does Matt chase after her and she stays? Does he miss her and she leaves? Something else? You'll have to wait for the next installment to find out...

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 3

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next | masterlist

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: no use of y/n, "Bee" is reader's nickname Joel gave her, fluff, allusions to smut or almost, angst, miscommunication, there's a lot of tension and things are getting complicated.

a/n: Hello! Chapter 3 is here! I took time off this weekend so i had time for writing this and here we are. I really hope you like this one because things are going to happen next chapter 👀 Happy reading and remember, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, thanks for the love on this fic so far and I'm always love hearing from you, you can send me any ask or talk to me, and as always if you want to be tagged, just tell me 💌

Two days had passed since your encounter with Lauren, and during those two days, you had been doing your best to avoid Joel.  Not only for your own sense of humiliation but because you didn’t want to step into a story you weren’t part of. You felt ashamed of being in the middle of a relationship without closure between them.

However, Joel noticed and he started to miss you, your acts of affection, like the warm coffee you had been bringing to him in the morning and the genuine connection blooming between you. These two days just felt emptier without you.   you. These

He knew something was off with you, so he decided to face you and went to your flower shop with the only objective of talking to you in his mind. As he entered, the familiar sound of the bell he was getting used to chiming, he saw you there arranging a bouquet of roses as you always did. 

You glanced up, your expression guarded “Joel if you need anything. I’m really busy right now”

"No, you don’t” Joel replied firmly, walking to the counter to stand in front of him. “You can’t continue avoiding me like this.”

Your eyes narrowed as if you didn’t understand what he was talking about. “I’m not."

Joel took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Bee”

You sighed and looked at him in the eyes. “It’s hard, but Lauren”, you finally acknowledged the source of your discomfort.

“Oh. Who told you?” he asked, his voice tinged with guilt.

“What?” 

“It’s because I let her meet Sarah. Isn’t it? Because I didn’t tell you?” 

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came. A mix of emotions swirled inside you. But it mostly hurt. 

“Bee?” he pleaded, waiting for you to say something. 

“I have nothing to tell you, Joel,” you said, and undertone your words. 

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. “Are you jealous or what?” he accused you.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, defiantly.

“The way you’re acting,” he said, raising his voice.

"Joel, it's not just about that," you said, your voice lingering with frustration. "It's about how you asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend just for you to become closer to her?

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “Bee, I didn’t want to hide it from you. I just... didn’t know how to explain everything. It's complicated."

You let out a bitter chuckle and Joel looked taken aback, almost offended. He didn’t know what to say to make things get better.

“Why do you care?” 

Your frustration was evident as you replied, "Because I'm stuck in the middle of this mess, Joel. I didn't sign up for this drama."

Joel's face contorted with a mixture of anger. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have. Sarah is my daughter. I know what’s good for her.”

Your frustration flared, and you spoke sharply, "You're so focused on your own problems, Joel, that you can't see how this affects everyone around you. Including me."

The tension reached its peak, and your voices rose in unison as you both shouted at each other, the anger and pain speaking for both of you.

"Well, that's my problem to deal with, go to hell!" Joel retorted.

"Fuck you!" you shouted back, your voice laced with frustration and pain. "Get out of here before I hit you in the damn face!"

With that, Joel turned and stormed out of your flower shop, leaving behind a cloud of unresolved emotions and a shattered pretense that had held your worlds together.

And Joel didn’t know why his heart hurt so much.

In the aftermath of your heated argument with Joel, you were left feeling like you were on fire. The tension between you had reached its peak, and you couldn't help but wonder if you had made a terrible mistake by getting involved with him.

Over the next hours, you tried your best to put some distance between yourself and Joel. You solely focused on your flower shop and threw yourself into your work, hoping that distraction would help you forget about the consequences of your actions. 

As you were busy cleaning the counter in your flower shop, you suddenly felt a pair of hands cover your eyes. Startled, you nearly dropped the cloth you were holding.

Your heart hammered in your chest thinking it was Joel with an apology, but then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, "Guess who?"

Your heart skipped a beat as a rush of emotions overcame you. You knew that voice and the feeling of those hands on your eyes. It couldn't be... could it?

With a mixture of excitement and disbelief, you reached up to remove the hands from your eyes and turned around. Standing before you was Connell, wearing his characteristic smile.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips as you took in his appearance. He looked just as handsome as ever.

"Connell!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you held him close. "When did you get back?”

Connell chuckled warmly, returning your hug. "Job offer” he replied. “Not here, but I wanted to see you.” 

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with happiness. 

“You look as stunning as always,” he said in disbelief. 

His compliment about your appearance brought a blush to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile. "You look pretty great yourself, Connell."

As Connell surprised you in your flower shop and you shared a warm embrace, Joel watched from a distance.

As you and Connell shared your warm embrace, neither of you noticed Joel watching from a distance. He was confused as he observed the reunion. Part of him felt a pang of jealousy, even though he couldn't quite explain why.

“That’s Connell if you are asking.”

Joel turned his head to face the voice. It was Lily. 

“Her ex,” she added.

Joel's gaze shifted from Lily to you from afar as she provided some context for him to understand what this could mean. His jaw tensed slightly as he processed the information. Your ex-boyfriend was here, and the situation suddenly felt even more complicated to deal with.

Lily, enjoying the drama, couldn't resist stirring the pot. She raised an eyebrow at Joel and asked, "So, Joel, why are you looking at her like a puppy?

Joel's expression remained guarded as he replied, "I just wanted to talk to her”. He said, “But I see she is busy”. The last sentence came with laced jealousy written over it. 

Lily couldn't help but grin at Joel's tone. She leaned in closer, her voice teasing. "Busy with her ex, it seems." 

Joel's jaw clenched, and he shot Lily a pointed look. "It's none of your business, Lily."

“They were so in love, you know?”  Lily continued to tease. "Oh, I can tell. The way Connell's looking at her, it's like he never left."

Joel's irritation was palpable, but before he could respond, Lily added, "But hey, Joel and Bee are nothing real, so no need to get jealous.” 

Joel sighed, realizing that Lily wasn't going to let this go. "Lily, can we not do this right now?"

Lily stopped, but her mischievous grin remained. "Alright, alright, Joel. I’ll go, but come back later. You may find her in a better mood.” 

With that, she patted him on the shoulder and headed towards the door of your shop, leaving Joel dealing with his own mixed feelings towards you.

By the next day, Joel grew incredibly worried about you not showing up at your job. The worst scenarios came to his mind, the thought of him and Connell spending the night together the one stabbing deeply in his heart.

The idea of having you next to his gallery for four years, not caring about you at all now, you being the only thought in his mind, made him mad. He hated the feeling that now had settled in his heart at the memory of you. 

Your sudden disappearance only fueled his anger towards you, but mostly towards himself, so by the time the day was over for him, he drove to your house. He decided to confront you. 

All the way, he had been practicing the speech he was going to give you, the words he was going to say, and the possible reactions you could have. However, when he knocked at your door and you opened it, he was taken by surprise. You looked absolutely miserable. Your face was flushed, your hair a mess, and you were sniffling, clearly sick.

His anger immediately dissipated at your image, replaced by concern. 

“How do you know where I live?” you asked slowly, whispering. 

He thought it was funny that your first concern was him being here.

“Are you okay?” he asked with concern in his tone. 

You gave a weak nod. "Just a stupid cold."

Joel's anger had melted away the moment he saw you in such a vulnerable state. Without another word, he stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. 

He walked over to you, his expression softening as he took in your appearance. "You should be resting," he said softly, studying all your face. 

“It was what I was doing until an idiot knocked on my door.” You managed a faint smile.

Joel chuckled and told you to sit, then he went to the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets to find some tea to ease your misery. He quickly brewed a cup of hot tea and brought it to you along with some medicine he found on the counter. 

Sitting down beside you, he handed you the warm mug. "Here, drink this. It should help."

You rolled your eyes at him, taking the tea, sipping it, feeling the soothing warmth spreading through your body. Joel watched over you, concerned because you were not the girl full of life he had gotten used to for the last weeks. He checked your forehead with the back of his hand, checking your temperature. It was a simple gesture, but deep down he knew he had started to care about you. 

As you leaned back on the couch, feeling the effects of the tea and the medicine, you couldn't help but thank Joel’s presence next to you that you ended up falling asleep on his shoulder and his heart melted in his chest.

Seeing that he had grown tired from the effects of the tea and medicine, Joel carefully set the empty mug aside. He couldn't help but smile softly as he watched you drift off to sleep, your head resting on his shoulder. At that vulnerable moment, you seemed so delicate and different from the annoying person he thought you were, a picture he had created of you by himself, far from the truth. You were actually nice, caring, and the person with the biggest heart he had ever known. 

Gently, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you as he stood up from the couch. Your head nestled against his chest, and he could feel the rise and fall of your breath, steady. Without a word, he carried you to your bedroom, careful not to wake you.

As he laid you down on the bed and pulled the covers over you, he couldn't help but linger for a moment, his gaze tracing the lines of your face. It was a rare sight, seeing you so peaceful and vulnerable, and it tugged at something deep within him.

Joel knew he should leave and let you rest, even when he didn’t want to, but as he turned to go, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Joel, don't go," you murmured, your eyes fluttering open slightly.

You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. "Please, just stay."

That was all he needed to stay. He carefully climbed into the bed beside you, making sure to maintain a respectful distance, but you shifted closer, seeking the warmth and comfort of his body. The two of you lay there in silence, your breathing gradually synchronizing in the silence of the room. Joel watched over you, a rush of emotion ran through his body and he made himself feel comfortable against you. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, Miller. Remember, we can’t fall in love” you whispered as you snuggled on his chest.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your whispered remark, even as his heart skipped a beat at the intimacy of the moment.

"I’m doing my best to keep that promise," he murmured in reply, not feeling sure of that promise anymore. 

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep as well. The warmth of your body against him lulled him into the best sleep he had had in years. 

At that moment, there was no fake relationship, not pretending, but just two people resting in each other’s arms.

The next day, after a restful night of sleep, you woke up feeling better, better enough to go back to work. You decided to start again, putting aside the last argument with Joel and focusing on your own job. Besides, after last night, you were grateful for Joel and you couldn’t find yourself mad at him anymore. So, the first thing you did was arrange a bouquet of flowers for Joel and go to his gallery, making your way to his office. There wasn’t a signal of Joel, so you placed the cup of coffee on his desk, along with the bouquet, and some pastries, and left a note: 

I know you hate flowers, but thanks for last night, I feel better because of you.

Then, you returned to your flower shop, hoping the note would make him smile. 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur with you arranging flowers and serving customers as usual, and even when you kept yourself busy, your mind occasionally drifted back to Joel, anticipating his reaction to the flowers, and just as you were arranging a bouquet of sunflowers, your phone chimed, interrupting your thoughts. 

Joel

Thanks for the coffee and the pastries, I’m happy you’re better, bee.

By the way, I don’t hate flowers anymore.

You smiled at that, leaving the message unanswered.

As night fell, you noticed Joel was still working in the gallery. So, you decided to pay him a visit.

When you arrived, the gallery was dimly lit, with the soft glow of lights illuminating the pieces of art displayed inside. You spotted Joel in the studio, focused on adjusting the lighting to highlight the details of the paint he was currently working on. Looking at him, this focus gave you a moment to appreciate his dedication and his own features under the cast light. You have never seen him this way, so focused as he smoked out the air of the cigarette between his lips. 

He didn’t notice your presence until you approached inside the studio. Joel looked up from his work and his eyes met yours. Surprise flickered across his face as he took in your figure in front of him. The corner of his lips curled into a small smile.

"Bee," he said, setting down his brush and walking over to you. "I didn't expect to see you here."

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of ease wash over you in his presence. "You left early this morning, so I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing."

“I wanted to let you sleep.”

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips “Well, your plan didn’t work.”

Your eyes shifted from him to his work. He was painting a portrait of a woman. You took a moment to admire the painting, intrigued by the way Joel's work, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized the woman in the painting was you.

"Joel," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "Is this... me?"

"Yes, it's you." He said as you stepped forward in front of him. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the portrait. It made you feel beautiful.

"Why?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

You felt Joel stepping closer from behind you, as you kept admiring the canvas. He took another step closer, and his hand gently cupped your waist, “Well- “he cleared his throat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air. The gallery around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in a color you had searched for years.

As you felt his presence linger, you were able to cast a glance at him over your shoulder. Not speaking as you silently held his gaze, watching his eyes not leaving yours. 

“Bee” he leaned closer to you, whispering smoothly in your ear, as his chest brushed your back. 

You had been getting closer in the last weeks, but this moment was different and intense, and it was making your heart beat hard against your chest.

You tried not to be affected by the closeness, you were trying really hard, but everything around you was slipping away and Joel was the only clear thought you had in your mind. It was like you were under a spell.

He learned, leaving small kisses on your neck, as his hand travelled down the curve of one of your hips, gripping your skin all over the material of your clothes. He whispered your name against your skin, leaving goosebumps traced on it. 

“Can I kiss you for real this time?” He whispered lustily.

You turned to face him, and his hands held your waist, your widened eyes locked with his, feeling a magnetic pull, a connection without boundaries, when the false reality you had created blurred, and all that mattered was the feelings pulling both of you closer right now.

As he stood there, in front of his own piece of art, his lips dropped down to your mouth, already devouring it with his gaze. You couldn’t help but feel wanted under his stare.

You didn’t react at first, his mouth took your lips in his and he properly kissed you for the first time, because this kiss was real, one you both wanted. His hands grabbed your waist and held you against him as if his life depended on it.  

Kissing Joel for real felt like driving in a dead-end street, like crushing your bones against the waves of the sea just to be brought back to life. And he also felt like the sun at the end of summer burning deep down your legs being carried out by passion and desire. 

A gasp escaped from your throat, Joel’s mouth moving over yours in slow motion, savoring the taste of your lips to never forget it again. Your kisses felt like eating the sweetest fruit in summer. 

He gently pushed you against the wall as your legs spread, giving him closer access to you. As the kiss deepened, the feeling wasn’t just magical, but it was hot, with his tongue against yours. There wasn’t a proper way to get closer, but you wanted him closer, you wanted to feel him on top of you. 

Joel slowly detached his lips from yours, looking flustered at the intensity of the kiss you had just shared.

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

You quickly nodded, as you traced your hands on his hair down to his neck and rapidly connected your lips with him. This time it was even hotter, now there was desperation in the touch.

The air in the room grew heavier, filled with the sound of small whines slipping from your lips as he travelled his way down your neck with his lips, you felt like his own canvas being delicately traced by his lips brushing over your skin, planting tattooed kisses on his way.

He was capturing every second of this in his mind, the taste of your mouth, the softness of your skin, and the sound falling out from your lips, as he didn't stop taking every visible inch of your skin in his mouth. Every touch sent shivers straight down where you wanted him the most.

A slow moan escaped from your lips as he hit the hot skin of your neck.

"Everything's f-"

You shut him down by furiously attaching his lips back to yours. His hand left the back of your neck, travelling down your chest as he remembered how every inch of your body felt under his touch and he smiled against your lips. The ache between your tights intensified at that, all while his hand pushed under your skirt and brushed where you wanted to be touched the most.

"Oh" you breathed.

Joel stopped kissing you for a moment to look at you, and he had a small smirk on his lips because he knew what he was doing. Leading not only by the desire but because of the mixed feelings he had for you.

“I’ve been really,” he kissed you “loving” He kissed you again “spending time with you”

And at that moment, breathing heavily against each other's faces, he kissed you again, and this time he went for it. He grabbed your bottom lip between his teeth as his hand rose higher on your tight. 

He grabbed your waist, pulling you closer in a quick motion, your hand on your back holding your tight. You fell against his chest, falling apart under his gaze and touch. His lips pressed against you with a crazy need. 

Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears when he kept caressing every inch of you, making you spin. His palm smoothed over the curve of your waist down to your bum and gripped it tightly, moving you even closer to him.

You let out a whine at that, and one your legs was pulling him on hold, kissing down his neck. You could feel him clenching under you. 

He let out a groan, while you moved your hand along his chest down to his jeans, his own hand leaving your body to grasp your hold against him. He groaned low against you. 

He stopped kissing you to meet your eyes briefly.

“I want you,” he said, capturing your lips as his teeth grabbed your bottom lip and his hand cupped the side of your face. 

“You can have me” you whispered, resting your forehead on his.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips as he unbuttoned your blouse, your hands working on his jeans, and planted kisses on his mouth. Kissing him deeply as one of your hands rested between you two, as you wrapped your hand around him.

He lifted you with force as you wrapped your legs around his waist, your back to the wall. His hands on your hips to hold you right there. The air in your lungs was trapped in a bubble of incredible pleasure, but it still found a way to escape in rushed moans against his mouth as you both kept devouring each other. 

He groaned against your mouth, lips parting, unable to utter other things instead of whimpers that drove you absolutely crazy.

Just as you were almost crossing the line of the agreement you made. A voice calling his name suddenly ruined the moment. He pulled away with a reluctant sigh, his eyes still locked with yours.

Fuck.

"Joel!" Tommy's voice echoed through the gallery, and you both turned to see his brother approaching.

Joel cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, pulling you down carefully and fixing his jeans rapidly though his eyes still lingered on you.

 "Tommy, what are you doing here?" he asked, leaving the studio.

Tommy chuckled, his grin widening. "Well, you told me to pick you over tonight.” 

Joel blinked, momentarily confused by his brother's words. Then the realization dawned on him.

“You forgot? Because- Bee?” he asked in disbelief once he spotted you hiding behind the door of Joel’s studio in the gallery. 

You stepped out from behind the door, feeling a bit awkward and ashamed. "Hi, Tommy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye “What are you doing here?

You struggled to find words to explain your presence at the gallery at 09:00 p.m. “I just thought I’d stop by to help Joel.”

“With your mouth?” he asked you.

Joel shot his brother a warning look, but Tommy just grinned wider. “I’m sorry but your unbuttoned jeans and the messy hair speak louder.” 

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you looked away, suddenly self-conscious under Tommy's teasing gaze.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tommy, can we talk about this later?"

Tommy laughed, clapping Joel on the back. "Sure, sure. I'll let you two get back to your... art appreciation."

With a final wink in your direction, Tommy made his exit, leaving you and Joel alone.

“By the way, you’re are getting pretty good at pretending,” he shouted for the last time. 

“I guess he is right,” you said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Joel nodded, but there was a contemplative look in his eyes. "I wasn’t pretending.”

There was a moment of silence between you two, the unspoken tension from earlier still lingering in the air. 

Joel's words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. " I care about you, Bee” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission. He couldn’t believe he had just confessed something he only thought was in his mind and it left you both surprised. 

After two days, both Joel and you were in a game of changing minds with none of you wanting to face each other after the events of the other night, when you almost crossed the line of pretending while tracing shades of love you didn’t want to admit. And if you face each other, your armor could fall again, and neither of you wanted that. 

But you couldn’t stop replying to his words in your mind, wondering if he had truly meant them or if it was just a slip of the passionate moment that felt like a sin.

As evening descended two days later, you found yourself at the gallery once again. Contemplating your options. Going inside and falling into his language that made gravity fall too much or going back to your home and pretending Joel wasn’t your Achilles heel.

This time, you went for the first option, and the same soft glow of light was illuminating the space like the other night. However, this time it wasn’t the same. Joel was standing next to one of the art pieces, sharing a laugh with Lauren. They seemed to share a really good moment, with genuine smiles displaying on his faces, and it was clear that you had interrupted a moment between them.

Your heart sank at the picture. Just imagine bringing women to his gallery to fuck them in his studio was something casual for him. 

You hesitated, before making up your mind and leaving, but your footsteps must have caught their attention because Joel's gaze locked onto yours, and he quickly excused himself from the conversation with Lauren. Lauren turned to look at you, her expression unreadable.

Joel approached you with a concerned look. "Bee? What are you doing here?"

You couldn't hide the hurt in your voice as you replied, "I came here to talk to you, Joel, but I bet you’re busy”

You felt a surge of disappointment and Lauren's presence behind only added fuel to the fire of your own humiliation.

“It’s not what-

“Joel? Are you ready for dinner?” Lauren's voice interrupted the moment, and you turned to see her looking at you both with a faint smile.

You couldn't help but feel like an intruder, and the conversation you and Lauren had the other day made sense. After all, they had a bond that couldn’t be broken. 

 "I'll... I'll leave you two to your plans." You whispered, with a heavy heart.

Without waiting for their response, you turned and made your way out of the gallery, the heavy weight of uncertainty settling in your chest. As you stepped outside into the cool evening air, you couldn't help but feel like you had let Joel play with your feelings.

You knew that the arrangement between you and Joel was built on a foundation of pretense, but recent events had blurred the lines on that. Before you could gather your thoughts, you heard the door to the gallery swing open behind you, and you turned to see Joel rushing out. His expression was a mix of concern and desperation as he called out to you.

"Bee, wait! Please, let me explain," he pleaded, his footsteps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

You weren't ready to hear his explanations, not now. You took a step back, your voice laced with hurt as you replied, "Joel, I don't want to hear it right now”

Joel's face contorted with regret, and he reached out to gently touch your arm, his voice filled with sincerity. "It's not what you think, Bee.”

But your heart was too wounded, and you shook your head, pulling away from his touch. "Stop playing with fire, Joel”

Without another word, you turned and walked away, leaving Joel standing there, watching you go with a heavy heart.

Deep down on your thinking your phone vibrated, it was Conell,

Conell

Hey, are you free for dinner with me?

You considered Conell's invitation for a moment, after all you could use some distraction from all things running through your head.

You

Sure, is everything alright?

Conell

I'll tell you when we meet. Let's say 9:00? I’ll pick you up.

After confirming the time, you put your phone back in your pocket and watched Joel and Lauren making their way to his car. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy settle into your body. Their interaction seemed natural, so familiar, and you wonder if this is how he had felt about her at the beginning of their relationship. 

Joel opened the car door for Lauren, and as she got in, their laughter echoed through the quiet evening. They seemed at ease with each other, and it made you wonder if all that Joel and you had shared for the past weeks was insignificant. 

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you made your way to your car to arrive home and get ready for your dinner with Connell. Not without shooting a last glance back at Joel before getting into your car, his eyes briefly met yours, and there was a moment of unspoken language in his gaze as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Then, he got into his car and drove away with Lauren by his side. 

Your heart felt heavy after they left. A weight of uncertain feelings was running, making yourself questioning what was happening to you. Shaking your head to clear away the doubts, you started your car, drove home, and got ready for your dinner with Connell. 

As you entered your house and prepared for dinner, you couldn't escape the thoughts of Joel in your mind. It was like he was hunting your brain and your heart and you swore that wasn’t going to happen. You even thought of canceling on Connell but he seemed to want to talk to you about something really important, so you ended up choosing an elegant but simple outfit, doing your best to ignore the pictures of that damn artist in your head. 

When Connell arrived to pick you up, he greeted you with his familiar smile and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Some time ago, that small gesture would make your heart skip a beat, but now you didn't know what was happening.

Both of you arrived at a cozy but elegant restaurant and sat down for dinner. You both caught up in each other's lives, sharing stories of the time you had spent apart.

His career as a doctor and how your life has been going since you parted ways. 

Being with him felt so comfortable and familiar that you even forgot about the mess you had in your life going on in your life right now. The way he threw his head back laughing at your jokes and how you always thought of him as your safe place and person, now brought back to you. 

But as the night passed, Connell's demeanor changed and he took a deep breath before speaking. "There's something I need to tell you."

You looked at him, your curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?”

He reached across the table and took your hand in his. "I came back not just for a job offer but because... I came back for you”

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in. "For me?"

Connell nodded; his eyes locked with yours. "No matter where I go or what I do, I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you, and I want us to have a second chance."

You were taken aback by his confession. The past had been complicated, but the idea of rekindling your relationship with Connell was both exciting and frightening. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts.

After all, you were single and you could end the stupid agreement with Joel and he could go back to Lauren and be the family they were meant to be, and you could simply ignore how your heart felt at that. 

Connell’s voice broke your thoughts and he was looking at you with his blue eyes filled with sincerity. "I have an opportunity in London, and I want you to come with me.”

a/n: btw I only picture Connell as Paul Mescal and it may be because he played Connell on normal people haha.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3

[stsgluver]

synopsis. mcdonald's date with gojo after work [part of the dynasty series]

wc. 870

tags. gojo x reader, rich boy!au, fluff, self indulgent, not proofread x

a/n. I wish I had a gojo to fund my maccies addiction

"dinner is served, m'lady," gojo dropped his head elegantly in a small bow as he held out a mcdonald's bag to you and you can't help the grin that graced your features. your snow white-haired boyfriend dared to take a glance up, his expression mirroring yours as he felt the spread of the warmth that came with making you happy. his cheeks and the tips of his flushed a light shade of pink at the idea he was the reason behind your smile.

"you shouldn't have," you responded dramatically, leaning forward to grab the bag of food with one hand and the collar of his hoodie in the other. tugging him forward lightly, he followed through, not hesitating to dip his head down to meet your lips for a well-deserved kiss. your teeth clashed and he huffed a quiet laugh, pulling back, lips drifting to peck the corner of your lips, the flush of your cheeks and then one final kiss to the tip of your nose.

you scrunched your nose up in response, and gojo grinned. "eat, before it goes cold."

silence settled between the two of you as you flicked through the bag and organised what burger belonged to who. the car park gojo had parked in was almost empty, the sun having long set and most people having gone home. you, on the other hand, had just finished an eight hour shift at your local cafe and your boyfriend insisted he treat you to the finest of dinners.

christmas was only a couple weeks away now and the temperatures were significantly dropping, so every minute of your day had been just one gingerbread latte and hot chocolate after another. several spillages, a kid vomiting, and two muffin drops later, you were more than grateful for drive thru mcdonalds.

gojo’s thumb brushed lightly against your thigh as he held you whilst you both ate. yes, he would risk knocking the dips over as he haphazardly held all of his food on his lap and dipped his chicken in. "the stars are so pretty tonight."

shifting in your seat, you peered out at the night sky. he was in fact right – thousands of stars and satellites alike flickered above. "oh my god you can see them so clearly." you pulled out your phone to take several pictures that you’d almost definitely be posting on your next dump on your spam account. 

your boyfriend, on the other hand, was clearly not impressed with your response, delivering a harsh pinch to your thigh that had you jumping in your seat.

"ahem," he coughed, dark glasses dropped to the edge of his nose as he peered over the lenses at you.

"what?"

gojo could come across as intimidating to some, with his towering height, black glasses, and overall cocky nature. however, he looked anything but as he pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, twisting his body away from you in his seat. "you were supposed to be like 'yeah they are' as you gaze at me."

you laughed at the notion, leaning across to steal some of his cold chips from his lap. "i'm sorry but what level of delusion are you living in?"

gojo gasped, swatting your hand away, "i'm never buying you dinner ever ever again."

"oh no, how ever will i be able to afford my…” you glanced at the receipt on the bag you’d left on the dashboard. “£7.95 meal again. £7.95!"

when he spared you a glance this time, he couldn’t help but smile despite his best efforts not to. how could he not? not many that he’d met could put up with his eccentric personality, and even fewer would play along with his dramatics. and yet here he had the prettiest girl he’d ever met entertaining him without judgement.  

"you won't. you'll starve,” he said matter-of-factly. “i'll still go to your funeral."

"i'll let you tell everyone we were best friends so you'll get sympathy points."

if gojo had jumped any higher in his seat, he would’ve had a concussion from hitting the ceiling of his car. "best friends?! you mean boyfriend and girlfriend? husband and wife? soulmates for life?"

"sure those work too i guess," you waved your hand dismissively, reaching for more of his fries.

this time, gojo doesn’t hinder your effort. sinking further into his seat as he gripped his top over his chest. "you're breaking my heart here baby."

you kissed his cheek gently, a small print of your lipgloss left behind on his pale skin. “you’ll live.” 

gojo puckered up his lips, “one more and maybe i will.” you rolled your eyes but complied nonetheless, tasting the salt from your dinner on his lips as you leant over the console. if it wasn’t for oxygen, he didn’t think he’d ever let you go. 

“wanna take me to subway so i can get some cookies?” you mumbled against his lips. gojo hummed when he felt your hands lightly caress his undercut and that was all it took for your earlier offences to be forgiven. he was putty in your hands after all, had been since the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“anything for my girl.”

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2

[joelsgreys]

pains l a safe haven drabble

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: When Ellie has awful menstrual cramps, you come to the rescue.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. talk of menstrual cycles, cramps, our lil baby Ellie is in pain, Joel is kinda useless but we still love him, little fluffy moments here and there. domestic fluff.

word count: 2k

a/n: so this is just a little thing based on this request right here. i love the idea of writing little extra blurbs and drabbles for this universe now that i am further into the series. i hope you like this anon, and thank you for being patient with my slow snail ass! *this takes place somewhere between the events of chapters five and chapter six

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—fucking motherfucker!”

Ellie loudly gasps out the string of profanities, clutching at her stomach as she doubles over in what you can only imagine has to be a world of pain. She steadies herself by planting one of her tiny hands firmly on Stella’s rotund side, her facial features twisted in complete and utter agony. She sucks in a sharp deep breath, her eyes squeezing tightly shut as she leaned up against the pregnant mare for support.

Letting out a small sigh, you set your clipboard down and walk around Stella and over to Ellie’s side. “Alright, that’s it,” you say, placing a gentle hand on her lower back. “You’re going home right now, missy. Do you understand me?”

“I’m fucking fine,” the teenager insists through her gritted teeth. “They’re just fucking cramps. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ellie, look at you. You can hardly even stand up straight,” you tell her, the slightest hint of amusement lacing your tone. You give her back a soft, soothing rub, prompting her to exhale the breath she’d been holding. “I’m sorry, but I just can't let you work like this today. They’re clearly hurting you very badly.”

“I’ve never had cramps like this before,” Ellie admits to you. She feels the sensations in her pelvis subside and draws herself back up to her full height. Her gaze finds yours and she worriedly asks, “Do you think something’s wrong with me?”

You hum. “No, not necessarily. Symptoms of your cycle can differ from month to month. I wouldn’t be too alarmed, not unless you get awful cramps like these each time you get your cycle.” You peer at her in concern. You’d much rather step on a rusty nail barefoot than have to take Ellie to see Luke at the clinic, but if there was something going on, you would have no choice but to take her. “Be honest. Do they hurt you this bad every month?”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “Sometimes I don’t even get them at all.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. “Then I think you’re just having a little bad luck this month,” you state, patting her shoulder. “The best thing for you to do is go home, get off your feet and get some rest until they go away.”

Ellie frowns. “How can I even rest when it feels like someone’s fucking twisting my insides in their hands like they’re wringing out a wet mop?”

You can’t help but to chuckle a bit at her oddly specific, yet incredibly accurate analogy. As a woman, you understand just how bad the pain could be and you empathize with her. At least when you’d been her age, you had been in the QZ where you could use your ration cards for a pack of expired Midol. “Listen, I’ll tell you what—I have a few remedies up my sleeve that might help. Go on home and I’ll swing by in an hour once I get everything that I need. Do we have a deal?”

Ellie opens her mouth to protest, but another wave of pain causes her to yelp and double over again. “Alright, alright,” she chokes out. “We’ve got a deal. Just please fucking do something to help make this shit go away!”

Just like you had promised, an hour later, you find yourself knocking on Ellie and Joel’s front door. You’d made a couple of pit stops along the way, gathering the supplies that you needed into an old, floral printed canvas bag. 

“Peach?” Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in complete surprise when he opens the door and sees you standing there on his front porch in broad daylight. He takes a quick look around and lowers his voice when he speaks again. “Uh, not that I ain’t happy to see you darlin’, but what are you doin’ here?” The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown and a worried look flashes in his eyes as he looks over you, making sure you’re okay. “Somethin’ happen? Is everythin’ alright?”

You smile up at him softly.

By now, you’d just about gotten used to him and his overprotective nature. “I’m fine, Joel,” you assure him. “I’m actually here to see Ellie.”

He grimaces. “She ain’t feelin’ too good—”

“I know.” You hold up the tote bag in your hand. “That’s exactly why I’m here to see her.”

Joel seems to be a bit puzzled, but he steps aside and allows you into the house. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, he catches your wrist and gently pulls you towards him, swiftly stealing a quick little kiss from you. “Hi baby,” he greets in a quiet murmur against your lips. “S’kinda nice gettin’ a little sugar from you durin’ the daytime,” he jokes lightly before he steals another.

You giggle and playfully swat at his chest. “Cut it out, Joel. I’m here because I’m on a very important mission,” you inform him, taking a step backwards. “I sent Ellie home from the stables a little while ago and I told her I’d come by with a couple of things that might help make her feel better. Where is she?”

“She’s in here. Follow me,” Joel beckons to you with his hand as he leads you down the long hallway and into the living room. He gestured with a jut of chin to Ellie, who is sprawled out on the couch on her stomach, her small face buried into one of the cushions. “I took the afternoon off from patrol today. Didn’t want her to be home alone while she’s in so much pain but I’m useless. I don’t know what to do or what I can give her to make it stop hurtin’.”

“You’re not useless Joel—”

“No, he’s right. He’s pretty fucking useless,” Ellie mumbles miserably, her voice muffled by the couch cushion. 

You glance at Joel who tosses her an offended glare. “She doesn’t mean that, you know. She’s just in a lot of pain right now.” You touch his arm and offer him a small, sympathetic smile. “Do you mind if I borrow your kitchen for a few minutes to prepare what I brought?”

“‘Course not. C’mon, the kitchen's right across the way.” Taking advantage of the fact that Ellie’s face is still smushed into the couch, Joel takes your hand in his and starts leading you across the hallway into his kitchen. “What do you need, darlin’?”

“Do you have a tea kettle I can use?”

He shakes his head and drops your hand. “No, I don’t think we have one of those.”

“A normal pot will do, then,” you state, setting your bag down on the counter.

Joel nods and walks up beside you, opening one of the cabinets underneath the kitchen sink. He pulls out a dark blue pot and hands it to you. He watches as you fill it up with tap water from the kitchen faucet before carrying it over to the gas powered stove. After switching the stove on and getting a flame going, you set the pot down on top of it so the water could begin to warm up. You then reach into your bag and pull out a small plastic ziploc bag filled with loose tea leaves, dumping a few of them into the water before sealing the bag back up and setting it off to the side.

“What’s that?” he questions, curiously. 

“Raspberry leaf tea. It’s good for a lot of things, but it does wonders for menstrual cramps,” you explain briefly. You dig into your bag once more and pull out the handmade heating pad that you’d sewn together yourself a while back. Noticing that Joel’s standing right next to the old microwave on the opposite end of the counter, you toss it over in his direction, quickly warning him, “Joel, think fast.” 

He swiftly catches it in one of his hands. “The hell is this fuckin’ thing?”

You toss him a playful eye roll. “That’s a heating pad.”

Joel squeezes it between his fingers, making a face. “What’s in it?”

“Rice, flaxseed, and some lavender as well. It’ll help soothe her. Pop it into the microwave for a couple of minutes.”

He nods, doing as you’d instructed. “If you say so, peach.”

While the heating pad is warming up, you notice the water beginning to boil in the pot and start looking through his cabinets until you find a mug. You set it down and switch off the stove, asking him, “Do you have a hand strainer by any chance?”

“Yeah, think there’s one in that drawer right beside you.”

As you go about finishing preparing the tea, you feel Joel’s dark brown eyes glued to your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you meet his curious gaze and raise a questioning eyebrow at him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’,” he replies, innocently. “Just can’t believe you’re doin’ all this for her.”

You laugh a little. “Of course—why wouldn’t I do this for Ellie?”

Joel says nothing. He can only smile at you.

“Okay,” you say as you finish pouring the tea through the strainer. You set the pot side and pick up the ceramic mug. “Grab the heating pad. Let’s go make little miss grumpy pants feel better.”

He chuckles and does as he is told, grabbing the heating pad out of the microwave before following you out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

“Okay, Ellie. I need you to sit up,” you announced, walking over to the couch. 

She groans dramatically, but obeys. “I swear, if you making this fucking stop, I will never in my life complain about mucking out stalls ever again.”

“Here.” You hold out the mug to her. “You’re going to drink this.”

Ellie makes a disgusted face. “Ugh. I fucking hate tea.”

You pin her with a stern look. “What do you hate more—tea or pain?”

“Fine. Give it here,” she grumbles, carefully taking the tea in her hands. She blows on it for a minute to cool it down, then takes a couple of reluctant sips. She lets out a little disgusted noise, but says nothing about it.

As she leans back against the couch, you take the heating pad from Joel’s hands and place it over her pelvis. 

Ellie groans out in relief. “Fuck, that feels incredible.”

You glance over at Joel, raising an eyebrow. “Eh? What did I tell you?”

“You’re amazin’,” he grins. 

“You’re amazing,” Ellie mimics, teasing him with a smirk.

Joel’s smile fades. “Well, that tells me she’s feelin’ better already,” he grumbles, shaking his head. 

You watch as she forces herself to drink the rest of her tea. Once she’s finished, you take the empty mug from her in one of your hands.

“Oh. I have one more thing that might help.” You reach into the breast pocket of your white blouse and produce a tiny, square shaped object wrapped in foil. “I know it always makes Dina feel better when she’s having a rough time with her monthly bill.”

Ellie unwraps it, her eyes going wide. “No way! Is this chocolate?” She eagerly bites into the corner of the piece, moaning. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

You pat her thigh. “Lay down and keep that heating pad on you. You’ll start to feel better in no time.”

“I already do,” she says, shooting you a grateful look. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, kid.” You smile and stand up, walking into the kitchen with the empty mug in hand.

Joel follows suit.

Setting the dish down into the sink, you gasp when you feel his arms wrap around you from behind. “Joel, Ellie is—”

“She ain’t gonna see,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your neck. 

You turn around in his arms.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, his eyes meeting yours. “For takin’ such good care of her. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Grinning, you tilt your head up for a kiss. 

You don’t know what you’d do without them either. 

[bloodynectarine]

Pants are for the weak, and I'm strong af

MC refuses to wear pants. Chaos ensues.

tags. male mc, amab reader, shameless mc, mix of crack and fluff, slightly suggestive content (a healthy dose of horny grip), all the brothers.

notes. this is my first fic ever and my debut post, oof, sweats. what does one says. open up? enjoy the meal? come back soon?

After everything you've been through since your arrival at Devildom, including (but not limited to) a murder (yours, to be precise), you've slowly but surely carved your own way into the brothers' chaotic life.

Every time you wake up tangled in Mammon's arms and legs, you simply snuggle in, even when you were pretty sure you went to sleep to an empty bed the night before.

Walking around school holding Satan's arm feels as natural as breathing, and if you end up close enough to lay your head on his shoulder, so be it.

Whenever Asmo crosses the room to fix your hair or touch your face, rambling about how long your lashes are, how soft your skin feels, you lean in and bask in the attention.

Naps with Belphie are an everyday thing now: you let him lay on top of you, hide his face against your neck and snuggle anywhere between fifteen and forty minutes.

You already know every single one of Beel's eating habits. You can tell when a 108 seeds salad will do the job, and when you'll have to phone Barbatos, asking for his Bloody Terrine recipe.

Anime binges with Levi have introduced you to so many new series you love, and the amount of inside jokes the two of you share is probably a bit unhealthy.

If Lucifer decides to make eye contact with you from across the table at dinner, you have no problem to hold it, and if you let out the secret smile here and there, you're rewarded with an identical one.

They love it. They indulge in the way you let one wall down after the other, relishing in your company, constantly wondering, how close can they get? How much can they take from you before you stop them?

And still, when yet another wall crumbles down, and you show up late for breakfast one fateful Sunday morning with nothing but a long white t-shirt on —rubbing your eyes, tumbling in, clearly more asleep than awake—, the silence is loud, deafening.

“Legs” is the first thing that Asmo blurts out, immediately shutting up at the glare he gets from Lucifer. Nothing and no one can stop him from looking though.

“What? What leg?” You ask, voice low, slow, and drowsy as you sit down on the only available seat, between Levi and Beel.

Not even half a second later Levi gets up, muttering something about someone please switch places with me, do you want me to die, is that what you want, a shitty otaku like me isn't built for this, this is one of my favorite tropes--.

On cue, Mammon and Satan get up and rush to take the now free seat. The winner is Mammon, “That should teach ya!! Taste the power of the second born! THE Mammon!” he shrieks, loud but uncharacteristically evasive, face and neck as red as they get whilst holding intense eye contact with Levi's cereal bowl.

You laugh, as you always do, no longer surprised by their weird antics. “What's with that? Already fighting, so early on?” Elbow on table, cheek on hand, and the oversized t-shirt slides down, flashing an incredibly soft-looking shoulder.

While Levi chokes up with his own saliva and Beel reminds him he needs to breathe, Belphie sighs and shakes his head, unfazed, biting into his toast “Humans are pretty oblivious, uh? So dumb”, and if he moves his chair a little bit closer to try to get a better look, it's no one's business but his.

“Calling me dumb as soon as I get here? Mean”, you halfheartedly complain. Belphie might be onto something this time though: you have no idea what's going on.

Beel resumes chewing as he puts down a half-eaten cookie in front of you, “Saved this one for you”, which gets him a smile. In the next breath, Asmo puts two cookies (unchewed) on your plate “And I saved these for you, honey”, which gets him an even brighter smile.

Before everything gets out of control —he can already see his brothers wrestling until filling up your plate to the brim—, Lucifer decides it's time to intervene, “MC. Where are your pants.”

It's not a question, you notice. You scratch your neck and tilt your head, suddenly overly-conscious of your attire (or lack thereof) “Well. In my room. I hope.”

That gets you an exasperated sigh. Weird, that was even faster than usual. “Let me ask once again, and this time answer accordingly. Why are you not wearing your pants.”

“Oh. Haha. Actually, it's super funny” It's not. “But, you see, back in the human world I used to do this all the time.”

“This as in… Walking around naked?” Satan is the one asking, but while Lucifer sounds every bit of judgmental, he sounds playfully curious, his voice carries an obvious smile, even as he tries to hide it behind his mug (it's the one you got him, with cat ears, and a heart-shaped tail as the uncomfortable-looking handle).

“Not naked” How ridiculous would that be? You roll your eyes, reaching for your own mug (the one that has “Why be a demon hunter when you can be a demon kisser?” in bold red letters) and stopping halfway, thinking. “Surely I'm wearing boxers right now.” And to corroborate that you are, in fact, not walking around naked, you look down and lift the shirt. Just to be sure.

You've barely got a glimpse of black fabric (great, you didn't forget, that could've been embarrassing) when Mammon comes back to life, reaching out with both hands and pulling down to cover you once again, with more than enough strength. “Oi, oi, oi! W-w-what do ya think ya're doin'?! Are ya really that stupid?! Don't go around lettin' them s--”

A glimpse of your left nipple as the t-shirt slides even lower is apparently the straw that broke the demon's back, if the multiple gasps and squeals, delighted giggles (pretty sure those are Asmo's) and Lucifer's loud groan are any indicative.

“Enough. From now on, pants and t-shirts that actually fit are mandatory in and out the house.”

“Thank you, but no, thank you. I can't go back to wearing pants, they're suffocating. Also, it's only inside the house, so it should be okay, right?”

“It wasn't a question, this isn't about you agreeing or not, it's regulatory, and--”

“I say, if my darling doesn't want to wear pants, let him be, maybe it's a strange human tradition? We should join him!”

“That can't be the case, I haven't read anything like that before.”

“C-couldn't you at least wear a longer t-shirt? I'm going to pass out, it's exactly the same as in the second episode of I Turned Into a Bat Thinking My Childhood Friend Wouldn't Care But We Ended Up Married in The Afterlife where the protagonist--”

“It looks comfortable, MC. You probably can eat a lot in that.”

“And naps in a long t-shirt are the best, right? We should test it out. Right after breakfast.”

“Oi!! No! It's a no-go! Don't ya think I don't see ya lookin' at my human all over! Do I need to remind y'all who his first man is--”

“I don't see why it is such a big deal”, you mumble, pointedly not looking in Lucifer's direction, finally biting into a cookie as you let the t-shirt slide and move as it pleases, feeling snug and comfy in its embrace. So soft. “Aren't we all guys? There's nothing that I have that you don't.”

You continue chewing, eyes widening at a sudden realization “Or there is?” you ask, mouth full of cookie, trying to recall your limited knowledge in Demon Anatomy. Not your best subject, if you're being honest.

And thus a new round of shouting and squealing starts, so chaotic that getting a word in is impossible.

Or, at least was, until the ringing of the bell stops everyone in its tracks. Getting a few crumbs off your hands with the help of your very controversial t-shirt, you get up, walking towards the door with all the confidence of someone who's actually wearing pants.

It seems like ages since the last time all seven siblings agreed on something, but right now, they all scream in unison “Don't open the door!”.

ao3 ― writing tag

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: family fighting, fluff, hurt/comfort, manipulation, tiny lil plot twist kinda, wifey struggling to keep y'all interested

Chapter summary: You really don't know what you would do without Javi. (please remember I'm shit at summaries)

A/N: I know; what the fuck is going on? This is supposed to be dark? Well don't worry, dear friend, we're getting there! Please just bear with me, I know I'm probably testing some patience right now, but I swear to you that it will be worth it soon. Also, if this sounds rushed, I'm so sorry, but I know you would all rather get to the good shit sooner than later. Thank you, loves!

***

“Can you come pick me up?” 

You hate the way your voice shakes in tandem with your trembling body, it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. Though you might hate even more the fact that you’re having to bother Javi with something like this. 

You haven’t even thought it out yet—your brain is much too hazy for you to even try right now. Where will you go after he picks you up? You can’t ask him if you can stay at his place, you wouldn’t want to be any more of a problem than you already are. 

“Yes, sweetheart, of course. Is everything okay?” 

The sincerity in Javi’s voice makes you want to melt. Only this man would be so kind and caring as to go out of his way for you without an explanation. He must have just gotten home, too, because you’ve only been in your house for about fifteen minutes. 

You know he must hear the sniffle from your end of the phone, because he immediately sounds more concerned than anything. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Taking in a gulp of air, you glance at your dad who is still watching you with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a deep scowl on his face. You let your gaze flicker back down the tile floor, not wanting to see his obvious disgust for any longer than necessary. 

“Not really,” you admit, biting your lip to keep it together. “I’ll tell you when you get here. I h-have some stuff to take too.” 

You hear him mutter a curse as you blink and another tear races down your wet cheeks. 

“Okay, I’ll be there soon, honey. Just hang on a minute,” he says.

He sounds extremely worried, and you can tell he would rather stay on the phone with you to make sure you're safe, but he has to let you go so he can get to you in person. He hangs up and you set the receiver down. 

“I-I have a friend coming to get me,” you tell your father, much quieter than you would have liked to be.

“Go ahead and get your shit out of here,” he says as he starts to walk back into the kitchen, not bothered enough to spare you more of his time. Your mom has already busied herself with the dishes, but you swear you see tears cradling her face. 

Your stomach drops for what has to be a hundredth time today, but you have nothing better to do, so you drag yourself back to the pile of your stuff. You want nothing more than to disappear. Just to sink into a hole and curl up some place nobody can find you. You can’t believe you could be so selfish and stupid. But can they really blame you for doing something for yourself for once?

Taking a deep breath and coming to a stop in front of your stuff, you pick up the box sitting on top. It’s not a large pile; a lot of your possessions got left at your old apartment when you high-tailed it out of there, but you’ve never been one to keep a lot of stuff anyway. 

You only have to take a couple trips to have all of your things in a neat stack near the driveway. You’re just balancing your last suitcase when you hear a small voice from behind you calling your name. 

You spin around on your heel to see your sister leaning on one of the porch columns. She’s clearly been crying, and it sends a pang of regret through your body. One look is all it takes for her to be hurdling herself your way and engulfing you in a hug. 

Your arms wrap around her as you allow yourself to sob, feeling her own sadness shake the both of you as she rests her chin on your shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to choke out. Her hand comes to stroke your hair as she shakes her head lightly in disapproval. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Her confession only brings another round of tears to your eyes. 

“I promise to call you every day,” you sniffle into her hair. 

She nods again, silently agreeing. 

“As long as mom and dad will let me,” she says. 

You know Javi’s going to be here any minute now, and you don’t want to get her in trouble, so you pull away with as much of a smile as you can muster. 

“I’ll be okay,” you tell her with a squeeze to her shoulders. The look on her face absolutely breaks you all over again. She nods solemnly and pulls you in for one more good hug as you exchange ‘I love you’s, and then turns back to the house before she finds herself unable to let you go. 

It’s while she’s walking back inside that you hear the sound of Javi’s truck coming up your gravel drive. He hops out and is at your side in less than ten seconds. 

“Hermosa,” he greets you frantically, gently grabbing your cheeks with both hands to tilt your head and examine you for injuries. His shoulders sag with relief when he sees none. The action makes your stomach flip, and you really wish it would stop doing that. 

He looks behind you to eye your stuff. 

“Let’s get you out of here.” 

You nod and follow him to start moving your things again. Neither of you talk as you load everything you own into the bed of his truck and strap it down, the brief looks you cast at each other have enough meaning for you to have had a full conversation anyway. 

Once everything’s packed, you take one last look at your house, a wave of hurt washing over you. There’s so many memories here. Sure, not all of them were great, but it’s your entire childhood. You’re leaving your entire childhood, and that sentiment just isn’t settling with you. 

Javi has to pull you out of your trance by carefully taking your hand in his and motioning that it’s time to go. The look on his face isn’t quite of pity, but more of discern. You feel seen and heard for one of the first times in your life, and that thought doesn’t escape you. 

You follow after him, and he opens the passenger door for you before helping you in like the gentleman he is. You flash him as much of a smile as you can muster as you help lift yourself up. He shuts the door behind you, gets in on his side, and you’re backing down the drive before you can even process the fact that you’re really leaving. 

Javi asks you to tell him what happened after a couple minutes of letting you calm down, and you explain it all. You break down in the middle of the explanation, but he’s patient, and tells you to take all the time you need. It doesn’t take long for you to have everything out, but you feel like you’ve been wrung dry after the fact. 

It hurts even more to say everything out loud, to admit that your parents hate you because you wanted happiness. Javi consoles you, wrapping an arm around you when you slide over to lean into his side on the bench seat. 

He lets you get all your tears out, shushing you and planting gentle kisses on your head as you wrack sobs into his shoulder. It’s painful, but once you’ve cried all the tears you could, there’s a sense of lightness that consumes you. You try not to focus on the lingering pain in your chest as you look out the window.

The morning looks just as beautiful as it had earlier, but the sight makes your stomach churn this time. You’d been so stupid and unassuming on the ride home. The gentle glow now signifies nothing more than ignorance and an unreadable future. You can’t believe it was just over an hour ago that it had meant something else entirely. 

“Sweetheart,” Javi breaks the temporary silence. 

You look at him through your wet lashes, your head still propped on his shoulder because you don’t think you can hold it up without support right now. 

“I’m going to take you to my place, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You pick your head up now, both because of the relief from hearing him say that, and also from the hint of something in Javi’s voice that sounds a little like nervousness. 

“Thank you, Javi,” you tell him as sincerely as you can. You would literally have nowhere to go without him. “What do you want to ask?” 

He looks at you, and you swear you see his eyes light up the tiniest bit. He must see the gratitude written on your face. 

“You know I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe, right?”

His question takes you aback. Of course you do, how could he even ask that? He’s been nothing but kind to you and has only ever had the best intentions. 

“Yes, Javi, of course,” you say, turning to him fully to emphasize your truth. You need him to know how much you trust him, how much you appreciate the care and attention he provides you with. 

He turns back to the road, but you catch the way one corner of his mouth tugs up ever so slightly. At least he seems to know you’re sincere. 

“Well, I think there’s something we need to do to make sure you’ll stay that way.” 

You keep quiet. Your interest is piqued but you stay silent for him to continue. 

“I think that your parents shouldn’t be able to get to you anymore. Even though they kicked you out, we don’t know if they’re done bothering you.” 

Your brows furrow. 

“I don’t know, I really don’t think they would have any reason to come after me,” you say, perplexed as to why he would think such a thing. Sure, your parents are kind of assholes, but they’re not insane. They wanted you gone, and you’re gone. That’s that. 

You miss the way Javi’s jaw ticks as you turn back to lean against your seat. 

“I know, honey, but it’s always best to play it on the safe side.”

You try to think about what he’s telling you, but it still doesn’t sound like they would be a threat. 

“Especially if you get a job now that you’re not working for them anymore. What if they find out where you applied or where you’re working, and try to get you fired or declined? They could also tell people about what happened, and this town’s not going to take kindly to that.” 

That, on the other hand, sounds a bit more realistic. You wouldn’t exactly put something like that past them. 

“And you need to get your address and home number changed, which is going to be a pain in the ass, and will probably require some interaction with them.” 

You bite your lip. He has a point, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. He glances back over at you and sees the contemplative look on your face, his features softening. 

“I know it’s a lot, sweetheart, but I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

You look at him, catching his gaze. His eyes brows are set in a worried place, concern lacing his features. It makes your heart melt a little bit, to know this man cares so deeply for you. 

“I know, and I really appreciate it, but there’s not much I can do about it,” you tell him. He bows his head slightly. 

“Actually,” he starts. “I was thinking that I might have the solution. It would make me feel better to know you’re safe as well, cariño.” 

His hand grabs tighter to yours as you worry your lip. You have this funny feeling in your stomach that you can’t decipher. 

“What’s that?” 

“You can marry me.” 

If you had been driving, the truck would have jolted to a stop. All the breath is knocked from your lungs as you stare at the man who was able to say something like that so casually. Marry you? You’ve only known him for a couple of months. 

“W-what?” you squeak out with the little bit of breath you have left. He shrugs lightly, as if those words didn’t have any kind of an impact on him. 

“That way, you can change your name, number, and address without any hassle. You’ll be able to hide your identity for the most part, and you won’t have to worry about the logistics of that other stuff.” 

You just stare at him, your jaw open slightly. 

“I can keep you safe that way. Nobody will mess with you if they know you’re mine.” 

You feel something tug at your chest when he says that. Maybe officially being his won’t be so bad. You know you’re fast on the track of falling completely for this man anyway. 

You close your mouth to swallow, thinking over your options with a racing heart. It really does make sense to do that, but you can’t see it happening. 

“I don’t know, Javi…” you trail off, a little lightheaded from the suggestion. 

Javi sighs and checks the rearview mirror before pulling to the side of the road. 

“What are you doing?” 

He ignores your question and instead reaches a hand in front of you to open the passenger glove box. He moves a couple of papers out of the way, and out comes a small, velvet box. Your breath seizes in your throat. 

Javi turns to you, looking at you with the saddest, most pleading eyes you’ve ever seen. There’s a gleam to them, showcasing both the hope for a yes, and the nervousness of you saying no. 

“I knew from the first date, hermosa, that I was going to have you some day,” he starts. Your eyes get misty all over again. This isn’t just him offering you a solution. He wants you, and you honestly can’t even comprehend why a man like him would. He opens the box in his hand, and you gasp. The most beautiful ring you’ve ever laid eyes on lays snug in the small pillow inside of it. 

“I want to be the one to take care of you, to hold you, and to love you, for the rest of your life. Please be my wife,” his voice cracks on that last sentence, and you lose it. 

You throw your arms around him, a couple of tears escaping as you do so. 

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” you choke. You’re filled with a warmth that almost completely replaces the hurt that had consumed you. He really, really wants you, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to feeling so special. 

Javi lets out a shaky laugh filled with relief as he hugs you back and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You know I would do anything for you, right?”

“I do,” you nod at him with watery eyes. “Thank you, Javi.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re about to make me the happiest man alive.” 

***

Thank you for reading!! I love you all!!

Tag list:   @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @movievillainess721 @callachloe @missladym1981 @casa-boiardi

[allastoredeer]

Would you have any bottom Alastor fanfics to suggest? Ever since I came across your blog I’ve been hyper fixated on that idea but I can’t seem to find any

Surely!

I only just realized I have a total of 15 Hazbin fics bookmarked on AO3 😅 but I have a lot in my "Marked for Later" tab, and I'm sure I'll come across more bottom!Alastor fics there when I get around to going through it.

Of course, look over the tags before reading these fics, some of them are more explicit than others.

Here are the ones I've read and enjoyed:

Unhealthy Attachments by Keelywolfe (RadioApple)

Lucifer never thought to ask before what Alastor got out of having sex with him. Probably won't regret asking, right?

Right?

(Post Season Finale)

<><>

A Failure of Business Negotiation by Drowsy_Salamander (RadioStatic)

It began, as many things did for Alastor, out of curiosity. A tryst with Vox to decide whether sex was worth the hype, a neat and simple dynamic on Alastor's end. However, Vox clearly developed other ideas about what was going on and thus proceeded to utterly ruin everything between them by proposing a formal alliance.

... Alternatively: how Vox and Alastor became exes without ever dating

(NOTE: The smut is more alluded to than explicitly written, but I really enjoyed a deep dive into Alastor's brain and his thoughts surrounding sex. It was very enjoyable to read).

<><><>

601 by ChildishSadism (RadioStatic)

Humans aren't aware that the dark desires in their hearts give demons a clear path to earth. A soul in hell can be tasty but a pure soul from the human world was a delicacy that many demons fought for. Vox enjoyed indulging in this pleasure once in a while, it made his teeth feel sharper and his claws deathlier.

It was such a shame that maybe, he should have kept an eye around in case someone else was ready to steal his meal.

or Vox possesses a priest to try to harvest more souls and Alastor possesses a nun to steal his catch.

(REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS)

<><><>

Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by Keelywolfe (RadioApple)

(NOTE: This one is actually a series. I haven't finished it yet, but it has a lot of yummy bottom!Alastor content)

<><><>

Time to Dance by voland_xx (RadioStatic)

Building a time machine is never a good idea, especially when you’re in Hell.

Sir Pentious’s newest “invention” shocks the residents of Hazbin Hotel (+1) back into their human forms. Alastor and Vox navigate this new adjustment.

or, a demon gets voraciously, hungrily obsessed with a pretty man. What’s new.

<><><>

A Poison for Lust by MatcHoMetriC (Alestial - Alastor x Zestial)

Zestial & Alastor do some 'experimentation' on how the Vee's love potion actually works

<><><>

These are all the ones I have right now, but I'm sure I have a more squirreled away in my Marked for Later tab. If you're looking for more bottom!Alastor I definitely recommend looking through the bottom!Alastor tag! <- I actually just barely glanced through it and found one that looks very interesting, this is this one, if anyone is interested:

Devil's Threeway by Mixkarules18

All Alastor was trying to do was fetch Lucifer for Charlie. It was simple, nothing should have come from it.

However, the Overlord sees something that no one else was meant to and Lucifer decides to have a little fun with him.

Or alternatively:

Two Lucifer’s, one hole

(Tell me that doesn't sound like a fantastic read! I'll be sitting down to give it a looksie right after I post this LOL)

If anyone else has a bottom!Alastor fics they'd like to recommend, send them my way! I have a mighty need

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part VI)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some suicide thoughts, very suggestive stuff, nudity, sexual tension barely starting, misogyny coming from you know who lol.

Notes: i was eager to drop this so here it is. hope i can make justice to the slow burn/slow sexual tension. aaaa as always thanks for reading!! ily all!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part VI: Don't Lay Your Red Hand On Me

“Where the fuck are we going?” Ben asked, checking the picture outside the windshield.

The sun was already setting down, and there have been hours since you started driving. At least he had been able to see the damn sunset again after being caged for so long.

Despite his questioning look and not trusting you completely, both made it to your car in the middle of the mess of blood and headless corpses around the building, with him naked under the effects of your invisibility powers. Somehow, you still managed to reassure Soldier Boy it was to protect him. In fact, as you guided both out of the place, you were scared of your abilities not working properly to have him covered. The last thing you wanted was the cameras to have a look at him, escaping with your help.

Now, with Soldier Boy dressed in his clothes and you still wiping some of the dry blood from your skin, you drove without a destiny in mind. Just somewhere you could take him far away from Homelander and Vought. He was, in fact, your top priority and needed to be protected, even if you knew you were nothing compared to his strength and abilities, you still had the urgency of him trusting you, to feel like you really cared. And you did care, but for the wrong reasons and those, he didn’t have to know.

“Far away,” you responded, picking up your phone with one hand as you drove through the highway.

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” he insisted, looking at you switching your attention between the device in your hands and the road.

You dialed Grace, ignoring his voice. She didn’t answer immediately. You cursed under your breath and dialed again. No answer anew, just the ring and the automatic voicemail message. Well, fuck. You had to play with what you had.

“Hey, it’s me,” you began the message. “Please call me when you can, I have to inform you of something. It’s urgent, please call me back.”

Ben rolled his eyes, annoyed as fuck for your silence towards his demands. “You’re gonna tell me now what the fuck is going on? You’re a fucking supe and everyone is dead back there! And not ‘cause of me.”

“First, nothing to fear from me. Okay? You’re the one who’d kill me in a blink. Second, I don’t know!” you yelled as a response, clearly irritated. “I don’t know shit! I know we need to run and that’s all. So just shut up and let me drive.”

“Christ on a cross, you women are fucking irritating,” Ben fumed. He saw a cheap motel by the road and he would’ve guessed you were going there because you slowed down and pulled up in the parking lot. He sighed. “Home, shitty home.”

“Got any ideas? Because I’m all ears,” you stopped the engine and got down the car, taking the sports bag with you. The supe rolled his eyes and before he went out, you came right to his half open door. “Stay here, I'll check in.”

Ben shut his eyes, watching you closing the car door with a loud thud, and you left to get a room. He felt the need to storm behind and shout out what he really thought of your stupid ass bossing him around. If it wasn’t because he wasn’t really half the way out of the fucking car, he should have been arguing and insisting for some real answers. But for some reason he stayed back. When you came back after a short time he followed you to a double bed room you’d be using just for the night.

Once you entered, you decided a shower was first thing on the list, and then you had to communicate with Grace as soon as fucking possible. Checking around, you were thankful to find a couple of towels in the bathroom, while Ben settled on his own space, lying down on one of the beds.

He observed you thoroughly as you studied yourself in the dirty mirror hanging on the wall. The disgusting grimace you made told him you were looking for more blood to wipe off. And before he could speak again you turned to see him.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” you announced.

He raised a brow. “Mind some company, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes as you started to unbutton your blouse, his eyes checking shamelessly the little exposed skin didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Don't even think about it.”

And with that, you just disappeared inside the bathroom. The noise of water running compensated both of you for the silence. He turned on the cheap TV to have some noise for himself too, deciding he’d go for a shower after you. Probably if he was in a different mood would have just tried to get in your pants. Ben was getting so damn stressed out. First you took out his weed, then you announced he would have medication for his fucking stress disorder or some shit, and later, agents and employees of the facility just started to die violently without reason. He thought if any of you would be next while you walked him out.

It was too much to handle right now. He needed something to take it all out. Something, anything, somebody. Just to release it the only way he knew: with sexual pleasure. He didn't understand yet what the fuck was happening. Did you really care about him? You could just have left him there to handle everything by himself and run away. Yet, you took him out of the facility and he, once again, had a glimpse of your courage. Maybe a little. And he started to like that. Suddenly, he heard the shower being turned off and minutes later you came out of the bathroom sooner than he expected, dressed in the same clothing, drying the droplets on your face and wet hair.

“I’m gonna get some dinner, stay here” you announced, taking your phone and the room and car keys. “The door will be locked, don’t do anything stupid.”

Ben scoffed, standing up before making his way to take a shower himself. He faced you directly, just a couple of inches separating both of you. Your gaze challenged him to step closer. “I’m not a fucking animal.”

You hummed, without looking away from his eyes. “Sometimes I doubt you.”

“Locking the fucking door won’t do shit, why you keep doing this?” Ben asked, visible confusion on his features. He really looked tired as hell. Tired of your bullshit.

“It’s not because of you. I perfectly understand that, just wait for me here.”

With that, you turned on your heels and left the room. From the other side, you locked the door. Ben let out a deep breath. He knew it was easy to tear it apart, and again, run after you to have damn answers for once. But instead, he decided to calm himself a little and get rid of his clothes. Inside the shower, he let the warm water take care of the burdens he was carrying, without knowing, on his back. He wondered if he’d been better dead by now, if sleeping in a chamber was a greater choice than this, just running along with you, a woman, who just seemed to fuck him up even more instead of playing real like you had promised. If he knew how to kill himself, probably would’ve done it already. He was getting sick of hiding, of being a fucking experiment, to be under someone’s else’s orders… The worst part of it all is that he never had the right to choose on his own faith. Not even his own death.

Out of the room, you were a few feet away from the door you left behind when your phone started to ring softly. An unknown number appeared on the screen and cautiously you answered, making your way to the car, getting inside on the co-pilot seat.

“Hello?” a voice you knew too well started to speak after some seconds of silence.

“Grace?”

The woman on the other line breathed out. “Yeah, it’s me. Uhm, couldn’t attend earlier, sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, as if she could see you face to face. “We’ve been compromised. My lab assistants, the nurses, scientists, guards… Everyone is dead.”

“Fuck,” Grace hissed. She sounded exhausted. “Where is Soldier Boy?”

“I took him out, checked us in at a motel. Can’t go back to my old place. Not yet.”

“You have the copies of the project, right?”

For a moment you felt she was doubting you, but you answered anyway, surprised she would even ask that. “I do.”

There was a little silence coming from her. You continued. “I don’t think I told you yet, but… Fuck, I received a visit from Homelander a couple of days ago. He crashed into my apartment… He knows.”

Grace cursed under her breath. “Y/N, we’re playing with fire here.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your heartbeat raising. “What’s going on with you? Something happened back there?”

“Victoria Neuman came, saying she wanted to talk to me. She kinda threatened my life, and I’m on the run… Now I can make the puzzle.”

“You think they might be working together?”

“Probably. Senator Bishop was found dead, and guess who is running now with Robert Singer for vice president.”

You chuckled. The whole situation was so ironically clear. “Victoria, that stupid, smart bitch.”

“I’m gonna get some information on her, I know some people who’d know more than I do. I’ll call once I find something.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for that. Do you need me to do anything?”

“Just keep Soldier Boy busy. Work on that injection as soon as you can,” she ordered.

You nodded to yourself, taking a look around the empty lot. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a somewhat long time, Ben saw you entering the room and locking the door. You left a paper bag and water on the nightstand by his bed, where he laid down like he was having a nice day on the beach with only a towel around his hips. He noticed you looked down at him a little longer than usual, but he wasn’t going to let that slip. A sleazy smirk formed on his lips.

“My eyes are up here, sugar.”

You turned away your gaze for a moment before looking back up at him again, confident this time as you locked up your eyes with his half-lidded ones.

“Stop the pet names, Soldier Boy.”

Ben stood up on his feet slowly under your eyes following his moves. His muscular frame towering over your figure as the towel fell to the floor, revealing his bare figure to you. He was growing fond of the way you didn’t step back, ever, from him.

“Well, you never complained back there. Speaking of,” he took the bottle of water between his hands and took a sip from it before his green orbs focused on you anew. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I already told you. I don’t know shit.”

“Fucking lies,” the supe hissed. “Tell me now.”

You shrugged and crossed your arms on your chest, tired of him. “I have nothing.”

“Sweetheart, you never shut your piehole during our sessions. Don’t back up now,” he dared, stepping closer to you, eyelids narrowing.

Neither Ben or you dared to look away. You had to act like it, for your good. What if Soldier Boy found out that probably Homelander was behind all of it? It was going to be the end of him, his son; the fucking abusive experiment would be gone with a blast. But Vought was still around. It wasn’t just about Homelander or personal payback. It was more than that.

Homelander was barely the tip of the iceberg. And you were afraid Ben would never understand the mission. Would he say yes to use his blood to create even more experiments after all he went through, even if you explained everything? You knew his answer. The next step was getting it from him and it was going to be the hardest thing ever. But you could think of that later. There was nothing that a small cut accident couldn’t do.

“I’m not talking because I have nothing to tell you, Ben,” you lied, looking at him with your brows knitting together. “I wish I knew, but I’m just as scared as you might be.”

“I’m not scared,” he replied a little too fast. “I want to know why you took me out.”

“Why not?” you insisted. “You deserve another chance.”

And I need you alive to find a cure to this curse.

Ben scrutinized your face. This time, he couldn’t read through you. What did he know though, was that he was tired. A burning ache was forming inside him once again and he needed to release it. He was used to sensing your heartbeats, the blood running on your veins, and still now there was no glimpse of you reacting to his teasing. Any other woman would have thrown herself at him, he was used to it. Now, there wasn’t anyone. Just you, paying no attention to his perfectly sculpted body and his cock between his legs. It had to be the fact that you were a supe. Not as powerful, but still. A clear advantage in the cursed world you all lived in. He took in your body, thinking into luring you to give in and imagining how it would be to have you crying under him, moaning his name exactly like numerous women have. Just for the night.

“Don’t think about it, Soldier Boy,” you voiced out, like if you read his nasty mind. “I’m not gonna do that.”

His eyes went back to your face. “Y’know, I used to have lines of women like you during my days. Countless lines of rich whores, waiting to have a good fuck with me. Pretty ladies whose husbands would leave unattended, cute little secretaries, bombshell Hollywood actresses… All of them, just wet holes ready for me. I’d take them all.”

You chuckled at his pathetic little speech. If that was his way of getting you to bed, it wasn’t working. Not now, not never.

“I’m not just any rich whore, Ben. I don’t want to fuck you, you can use the bathroom to take care of your little problem down there.”

You saw how his jaw clenched as he held his eyes with yours.

He smirked. “Maybe not today, pretty thing. But you’ll see.”

“Be my guest.”

Ben turned around, giving you a clear view of his ass as he locked himself inside the bathroom. The sound of the shower running was not enough to cover his moans and grunts as he jerked himself off. You just decided to sleep. There was a long drive waiting for you in the morning.