#completed six years on Friday.

[lokisaved]

The wildest thing about getting to take a photo with Tom is that it didn't feel quite real, like he wasn't a real person standing there in front of me that I was about to be right next to. I partially attribute that to how fast the line was going, but even if I had a bit more time to process, I surely would have felt the same: that a man whose life, basically, I had been following since 2013, was in the same room as me and I was mere feet away.

I was lightheaded in the moments prior to the photo, although whether due to being hungry and needed water or overwhelmed suddenly despite not feeling it before (and thrown off by the girl in front of me trying to hold a brief conversation and the crew trying to escort her away), I'm not sure. I do wonder how Tom feels about the whole thing, about how fast it went.

We greeted each other, I got to shake his hand (his hand really is big, much larger than I expected, yet when he shook mine, it didn't feel overwhelming, and he didn't crush me), he put his arm behind me and mine behind him (his coat was quite soft; my mom speculated it's a nice/fancy wool), we smiled, FLASH, I thanked him (I can't recall if he thanked me), and off I went.

While fast, definitely 100% worth it. I've never had the chance to go anywhere else he's been due to time and money, but this time, the stars aligned.

I was lucky enough to have enough income to be able to do that plus get better seating for the live show, which was also definitely worth it; I wasn't as close as I would have liked, but better than higher up—and the general seating filled up really fast, so much so that when it got delayed due to autographs (I get the sense they overbooked him, because he had to go BACK after it was done), they told us not to leave the theatre because so many people couldn't get in.

Anyway, I absolutely loved being able to hear him talk in person, and he told pretty much all new stories this time! At least, new to me, but I'm pretty sure most of them had not been told before, probably because the audience got to ask the questions (using a Google forms from the week before that was only open for twenty-four hours AND I MISSED—and they had apparently 84 questions?? Surely they could have left that open longer, then).

I really hope I get the opportunity to see him in person again in some form or fashion; i.e. I'd probably do an autograph, or if he's got enough live event, just pay for good seating for that. I don't know if I'll get so lucky a second time, and I will definitely cherish this for a long while.

[fjordfolk]

really torn because i have the opportunity to go east for the sheltie club's main show at the end of the month. and i would like to, and it will be easier now mentally to do it while im still in my doing terrifying things phase. but it doesn't really make sense going without showing Troja, but i don't want it to seem like we had one good weekend and now I'm coming out thinking we'll sweep, you know. i still know her faults and i know her CQ was from a very generous judge that specifically looks for the one thing Troja has in buckets. she'll also be out of coat by then.

i think it'd be good for all three of us, because we're *all* deeply undersocialized. and it's not like *i* have anything to lose, really. and i've never had the opportunity to just go do things before, and i only just now have the chance to be active in my breed, and and. but i still feel idk. conflicted.

[ruleofheart]

growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

7k

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel. 

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you. 

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators. 

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up. 

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten. 

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck. 

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly. 

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?” 

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy. 

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat. 

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her. 

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.” 

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life. 

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom. 

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement. 

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school. 

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material. 

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges. 

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike. 

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind. 

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.” 

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow. 

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart. 

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity. 

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door. 

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside. 

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features. 

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.” 

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules. 

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.” 

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.” 

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical. 

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest. 

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm. 

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you. 

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much. 

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter. 

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle. 

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.” 

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched. 

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.” 

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it. 

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side. 

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!” 

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground. 

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game. 

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal. 

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked. 

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.” 

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you. 

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart. 

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you. 

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money. 

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart. 

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again. 

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach. 

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from. 

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you. 

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed. 

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore. 

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom. 

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it. 

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally. 

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked. 

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness. 

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side. 

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found. 

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost. 

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely. 

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you. 

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me. 

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected. 

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet. 

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better. 

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours. 

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold. 

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door. 

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers. 

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her. 

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.” 

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later. 

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you. 

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest. 

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo? 

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation. 

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well. 

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough. 

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?” 

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ. 

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation. 

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer. 

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation. 

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating. 

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her. 

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.” 

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral. 

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.” 

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?” 

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head. 

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt. 

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette. 

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.” 

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement. 

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?” 

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes. 

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy. 

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need. 

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear. 

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly. 

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes. 

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion. 

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too. 

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off. 

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down. 

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy. 

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone. 

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you. 

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you. 

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again. 

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.” 

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude. 

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her. 

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her. 

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure. 

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience. 

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place. 

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.” 

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply. 

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips. 

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely. 

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you. 

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips. 

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone. 

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.” 

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry. 

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself. 

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true. 

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward. 

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling. 

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut. 

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.” 

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release. 

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth. 

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders. 

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy. 

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand. 

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.” 

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy. 

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate. 

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief. 

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face. 

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over. 

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.” 

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.” 

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting. 

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together. 

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you. 

“Hey,” she starts, voice low. 

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

[eddiesxangel]

Redemption| Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: after committing a petty crime, Eddie is forced to work community at a retirement home; what he didn’t expect was the pretty girl at the front desk, you. This is so self-indulgent don't come for me

Word count: 3.8k

Cw: mutual pining, male masturbation, Perv!Eddie, Dom!Eddie/ Sub!reader, unprotected sex, corruption kink? breeding kink, sex at work. (Briefly proofread)

An: after 85 years I finally got around to finishing this! It’s not where I thought it would go originally bc it was just suppose to be a fluff piece but the horny gremlin took over

Boredom wasn't even a way to describe how you were feeling. The phones were dead, the day had been dragging on, and it was not even 12:00pm. The residents of the home were also not doing you any favours. Having to repeat yourself about six times in a row at the top of your lungs was starting to get old; your day had just not been going the way you wanted. Any other day, you'd be happy to help, happy to repeat yourself, but today was not one of those days. You were irritated and annoyed; your work bestie was off today, so you couldn't even complain to her about your shit day.

 A sigh of relief fills you when the phone rings, a rare occasion, but today has been so slow you were begging for something to do.

 "Sunny Acres Retirement Home! How may I help you?"  your customer service voice was overly sweet, too sweet. However you can't seem to turn it off, being the people pleaser that you are. 

"Jesus Christ'' You hear mumbled from the other end of the line. 

"Hello? How can I help you?" you roll your eyes, having to repeat yourself, but keep up the chipper act.

 "Yeah, listen, I was assigned to do community hours at this place, and I need to talk to a manager." Damn, this guy had an attitude. 

"Yeah! Sure thing. Can I get your name, please?"

 "Seriously?" 

What the fuck crawled up this guy's ass?

"It's company policy, Sir." You rolled your eyes again, not wanting to deal with more bullshit.

"Eddie"  

"One moment, Eddie, I'll transfer your call." You put him on hold and transferred him to the manager with a good luck warning. 

The next day, you were in much better spirits; your work bestie was with you, it was casual Friday, and you were allowed to wear jeans instead of business casual attire.

It was around 1:00pm when you saw Chief Hopper walk in accompanied by someone you had not recognized. 

"Hey Hopps," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you." He said with a smile.

You and Chief Hopper had a friendly relationship because you're close friends with his girlfriend's oldest, Jonathan.  

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Brought in another delinquent for you to roughhouse into shape" he steps out of the way.

Your giggle dies as you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

"This is Edward; he is here to complete two hundred hours of community service, and he will be starting today."

"It's Eddie," you hear him mumble under his breath. 

Oh so this is the jackass you spoke to on the phone yesterday... a really cute jackass.

He looked to be around your age, but you didn't recognize him. You'd only been in town since the second half of senior year, hating your parents for making your move to a new school so close to graduating. You have been in Hawkins  six years now you're here working 9-5 as a receptionist at Sunny Acres Retirement Home.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie." You introduce yourself and proceed to call the manager to let her know he is here. Once Hopper leaves and your manager shows him around, you immediately call your best friend, Robin's, extension.

"Get over here now! We have a code, hottie," you whisper into the phone. Whenever you see a cute person enter the building, whether it be adult grandchildren, paramedics, or firefighters, you always let one another know when there is one on the premises. No less than two minutes later, she approaches your desk.

"Where are they?"

" There," you point to the dining room directly across from your desk as he is being given a tour of the building.

"Eddie Munson?!" she half yells before covering her mouth. 

"You know him?" you ask excitedly.

"Know him? He's the town freak," she scoffs.

"I'm sure he is a freak, alright?" You wiggle your brows at her." 

"I'm serious! He's bad news." 

"Clearly, he is doing community service hours." 

"Seriously? That is what you're into?" she giggles.

"I don't know? There is something about him?" You bite your lip as you check him out from afar. He turns back to walk towards you, and you quickly look away, not wanting to be caught.

You've always been into bad boys, but your golden retriever, good girl image, always scared them away.

Eddie notices you staring at him because you're not very subtle.  He isn't mad that he caught you staring because he felt that you were checking him out rather than judging him. Unlike your co-worker standing beside you...

Just his luck, he recognized Robin from high school. She was always neutral towards him and didn't say much, but he knew how the people in this town operated. She would turn you against him in no time.

"Buckley." He nodded.

"Munson," she mimicked back.

You watched the scene play out, hoping she would introduce you. Wrong. She goes straight in for the kill.

"My friend thinks you're cute." She points her thumb at you, and you immediately slap her shoulder as a gut reaction.

"Robin?!" you scold her. Mortified about what she admitted to him just to break an awkward silence, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole. 

Eddie gives you a cocky smirk before the manager comes back to continue with the tour. 

"Why do you hate me? Did I do something?  Are you punishing me?" you whine. 

"You know I just blurt out things when I get uncomfortable!" 

All you can do is roll your eyes, you loved the girl, but she could be really dense. 

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about your brief interaction all night. Was Robin telling the truth? Did you really think he was cute? Or was she teasing? He hoped that she had grown up since high school and was telling the truth because he also thought you were cute, like really, really cute. He hadn't seen you before, and Hawkins was a small town; he must have known you from somewhere? He wraps his brain around any memories of your face, but he comes up empty. He had to find out more about you. He needed to know you. Something about you infatuated him so much. He thought about how your body looked in the adorable outfit you had on. He thought about what was under the outfit to... Maybe being forced to volunteer his time at Sunny Acres wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him after all...

The next day, you were assigned to show Eddie some of the duties he was to do for the residents. Talk to them, run bingo, help them with their phone if the line was giving them any trouble, or their TV if they put in the wrong input, serve them beverages, and get to know them and keep them company. A lot of them don't have families or anyone to come visit them. The staff are their family. That was the main reason you stayed at this job for so long. 

Eddie was quiet the whole orientation. The tension from yesterday was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Small talk was not your strong suit; you dreaded it, but you also really wanted to talk with Eddie, so you went for it.

"So what did they book you for? Steal candy from a kid on the playground?" trying to make light of the situation. 

"Murder," he deadpans to you.

"Ha ha. Nice try. They don't give community hours to murderers." you couldn't keep your eyes on the task in front of you.

He was dead silent, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Okay, don't tell me; I'll just keep guessing until you do." you gave a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

Another eye roll was shot your way, but you swore you saw a glint of something behind those eyes. 

"So what was it? Trespassing? Vandalism? shoplifting? Public intoxication? Speeding?" you raise a brow at him.

 Eddie just smirked and shook his head as you interrogated him. Your bubbly personality was nothing compared to his. He noticed how you would light up the room when you walked in. The residents of the home adored you, and he could see why. You were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen; your eyes sparkled, and he loved how you styled yourself. He wasn't used to being so infatuated by someone so cutesy. He noticed you wore a lot of pink and has yet to see you in anything black. He thought of what you would look like with black underwear... then he snapped back out of his thoughts. He tried to think of something less sexy, but as he was trying to do so, your top slipped down when you went to reach for the deck of cards across from you. He caught a glimpse of the frilly light yellow bra you had on under your top.

Eddie noticed the room was getting hotter, or was that just him? You made him nervous; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you more than he already has. He felt shame that we had to be waltzed in here by the chief of police, never mind what offence he committed. So he stayed quiet, not wanting the next thing to come out of his mouth to be offensive or crass. So he kept quiet, not saying anything or indulging in the conversation more than he had to.

Another week went by, and you still hardly spoke to Eddie. Work was unbelievably slow yet again. you thought that would give you a chance to speak with Eddie, but you hardly had time to see him because the residents kept hogging him. That was until your manager asked for you to help with the Bingo because everyone decided to show up today. Eddie was in charge of rolling and placing, and you were in charge of announcing and checking.

This was it, this was your chance to speak to him...

"How do you like it here so far?"

"It's fine I guess." He mumbled. 

"Everyone really loves you." You smiled.  

Eddie gave you a look that said what the fuck?

“No really! … Do you not like it here?” What you were really asking was do you not like being around me?

"Don't you get it? How can I serve these snotty rich people when all they do is look down on someone like me?"

"Eddie, are you blind? The residents love you." 

Eddie scoffs at your confession. "I'm serious! When you are gone, Pat always asks where you are! And Linda always refers to you as her boyfriend, and I overheard Martha and June arguing over who got to braid your hair next. You're a real ladies' man around here," You giggle. 

"A ladies man you say?" his mood slowly changes as he smirks at you. That made you blush, the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away bashfully. He was just so pretty… and the way he looked at you like how he is now is making you so shy.

"Yeah, I'm kinda jealous of Linda, if I'm honest." You flirt. You feel like your stomach was in your ass by the time you finished the sentence.

-

"What's the next number! come on!" Bob yelled from the table. You had completely forgotten about the game.

Small glances were stolen throughout the following weeks.  You would feel the heat rise to your cheeks every time he caught you, and you couldn't tell if he found it endearing or annoying. You never got a response out of Eddie after your admission to being jealous over an eighty-three-year-old.

Eddie definitely thought it was endearing and he can't seem to get you out of his head. He would think about you when he was alone in his room at night. He would think about how you always smelled like marshmallows, how your hair looked so cute with the little bow you put in it occasionally, or how you tease him by wearing those short skirts with stockings underneath. He knew you were teasing him. Everyone else bought the Goodie Two Shoes act, but not Eddie. He saw right through it, and he was fed up. He felt like if he didn't have you, he would actually explode.

Eddie had been watching you from afar this whole time. He would sneak around your desk, finding things he could take home with him as a keepsake. Like little doodles you would leave out, or the pen you were using, or your lip balm. The best was when you left your purse out, and he got a chance to take the travel-size perfume that was lying there on top of everything. There was a reason he got booked for defacing public property and not theft. Theft he was good at.

Eddie sprayed his pillow with your perfume and then used your lip balm that smelled and tasted like strawberries, fuck, everything about you was so sweet: your personality, looks and smell, even your fucking lip balm. He thought about how his lips were touching the thing that touched yours as he applied it to his own, and his dick got hard. Then he thought about how your strawberry lips would look around his hard cock.

You were taking over Eddie's senses as he began to tug at his cock. He thought about how he would love to flip up your skirt and fucking you in one of the empty rooms. His imagination ran wild. He thought about your voice, how your tits would look bouncing in that frilly yellow bra he got a peek at. He wanted you in every position, especially under him. He knew you would be the perfect little sub for him. He needed you to be; he was so close to cumming. He thought about you crying from how much you needed his cock to fill you. He thought about how good you would look and feel swallowing his cock. He needed to take what he thought, no needed to believe, was your virgin pussy.

Eddie came so hard that night, the first night he indulged in his fantasies of you with your smell lingering in the air of his room. The mix of your sent with his was too much. He needed you, and he would do anything to try and get you.

"Ok, I can't take this anymore, you need to talk to him." Robin shook her head. 

"And say what?" 

"Yo Munson, come here!" 

"Robin!" You scolded.  

As Eddie approached, you felt your heart rate go up; you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What on earth was she going to say now? 

"Okay, I can't take watching you two dance around one another any longer." "She thinks you're cute. Okay..." Robin gestured to you. "Do you think she is cute?"

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just slowly nodded his head.

The tension broke when the shrill of phone ring broke you out of your trance and shook you a little. You just stared at the phone and Robin butted in.

“I’ll take it, you take your lunch” she gave you a wink and you looked to Eddie.

“I could eat.” and he wasn't talking about the chicken they were serving for lunch.

You felt your stomach do a flip-flip; you heard the insinuation in his tone.

"Um, uh- yeah. Okay." You cleared your throat and went to find an empty room for some privacy.

You guided Eddie up to the eighth floor. There were a lot of vacant rooms up there, and hardly anyone went in the west wing since no one was living there yet. The elevator ride up was silent; you felt an awkwardness, like Eddie was looking into your soul even though he wasn't even looking at you... The elevator dinged, and Eddie let you step out first, guiding him to the privacy he yearned for.

809 Eddie read on the door as you fumbled with the lock and key. Finally, you opened the lock and guided him inside. The room was completely empty; it echoed a little as your footsteps filled it.

"So..." You started but Eddie had no time for talking. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

Eddie surprised you by cupping your face and kissing you passionately. No one had ever kissed you like this before; it was strong and hard but also careful.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart." He spoke into your mouth. The kissing got more and more sensual. You ran your hands up his middle before you knew what was happening he quickly turned you around and pressed you up against the wall.

"You think it's cute? Teasing me for weeks with your sweet little outfits?" Eddie's hand was wrapped around your mouth to keep you quiet as his fingers explored you meat of your ass.

"Mmmmmph" You were so scared someone would find you in the empty suite, but it also turned you on more than expected.

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't quite catch that?" His fingers found the waistband of your stockings and pulled them and your panties down with one swift motion. His hand loosened its grip on your jaw so you could speak.

"N-no," You whimpered. This was turning you on way more than it should. You thought you would come up here to talk; maybe he would ask you out on a date. You never thought you would be fucking!

"I don't believe you."

You felt your skirt flipped up and a cool breeze on your wet pussy.

"Tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever filled this pussy?" Eddie asked as he ran a single finger through your wet folds.

"Yes," You admit shakily. You gripped Eddie's wrist of the hand that was clamped around your throat.

Eddie can't say he was surprised that you’ve had men before him. You were beautiful, smart, funny, adorable. It's too bad you had to be with them before he got a taste.

"What a shame you've had to suffer through that before meeting me, babydoll."

"Why is that?" you ask bravely.

Eddie chuckled darkly... "Because baby, I'm about to ruin you for all men."

That made you gulp. You can't believe you were about to fuck your crush in the middle of the work day. You didn't do stuff like this! you were a good girl, a rule follower.

Before you could think anymore about the consequences, Eddie, he slipped his throbbing cock into your needy pussy.

"Holy fuck!" You screamed, and Eddie's hand clamped back down over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Just when Eddie didn't think you could get any hotter, the curse word you let slip from your mouth made his cock twitch inside of you.

"Fuck me, you stretch me out so good," You whine, and Eddie thinks he will bust a nut right then and there. His perfect little angel had the mouth of a whore.

"Yes, you like that, don't you, you dirty little slut." Eddie jerked his hips up into you. It was sharp and hard and hit that delicious spot inside you each time. “You wanna be my good girl? Or my bad girl?”

“Good- oh fuck- good girl. I want to be your good girl!”

“That shut the fuck up and take it like I know you can”

"oh my god, you're so big." Your eyes rolled back into your head as he became more controlled with his rhythm. His hands gripped your hip, and he wrapped his hand in your hair, yanking your head back like he was riding you.

The view Eddie had was your ass bounced off his cock was making his head spin. He knew you would hand a perfect pussy. It was his now and only his.

"This pussy is mine now, understand? Im going to fill this pussy so good you won't know what to do for days. The only thing you're going to be thinking of is me and my fat cock."

All you could do was moan in response. "Yea you like that you dirty little whore. You like that I own this pussy now…” Eddie slowed down, he rolled his hips slowly into your pussy and he swore he saw the light “You have everyone convinced you're a goodgirl but all you are is a cumslut. Tell me how much you want my cum coating your walls"

"I want it so bad!" you cried.

You've never had a dick like this before. Eddie was right, he's ruined you for all men and he hadn't even made you cum... yet. You had full faith that he was able to do so because you could feel it. The warm fuzzy feeling was bubbling up in your core. Eddie had picked up the pace at your omission, and fuck if he wasn’t hitting your g spot with each delicious stroke of his cock hitting your walls.

"Fuck I'm going to cum!" You scream, all caution thrown to the wind, you'd forgotten where you were. The only thing you could think of was Eddie and his delicious cock.

"Fuck yes, babydoll. Come on this cock." Eddie's hand let go of your hair and wrapped it around your throat, pulling you flush to his body.

"More" You whisper.

"Greedy greedy girl."

"Please" You begged. You needed him to touch you.

"There is my good girl." His hand that had gripped your hip slid down and started playing with your swollen clit and your legs almost gave out.

"Next time, I'm keeping my word, and I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy." Eddie growled.

That did it for you; your inner walls squeezed, and you felt your orgasm rush through you. Eddie trusted in you as your body convulsed around him.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight," Eddie grits through his teeth, and he fights off his impending orgasm. He doesn't want this moment to end, he wants it to last forever. What if this is the last chance he has to feel your pussy wrapped around him?

"Please, Eddie, I want your cum! I want your cum so fucking bad, my pussy needs it."

That did it for Eddie, he let go and his hot seed was being shot into you with a roar.

After minutes of silence and heavy breathing, Eddie bent down and pulled up your panties and stockings for you, trapping his cum with it. You turn slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes, but Eddie doesn't allow it. He brings your cin up, guiding your eyes to look into his.

"Don't shy away from me now, babydoll. You're going to go back down to the lobby and finish the rest of your work day knowing my cum is going to be seeping through your pretty little panties, ok?" He ordered, and you dumbly nodded your head, still fucked out by the amazing dick you just received.

"Good girl" Eddie patted your ass, and you walked to the elevator with wobbly legs. Eddie laughed and held you stand straight before letting go before you reached the first floor.

You returned from your break fifteen minutes later than allotted, but Robin covered for you. You couldn't even look her in the eyes, and she knew you got freaky with the freak of Hawkins.

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Two

— Little Big Flight

Read part one here

Series Masterlist

Note: Max isn’t a major part of this chapter.

wc: 1.7k

Isabella hadn't stopped talking about Max since the day the two of you met him—in the grocery store of all places.

Her excitement was beyond imaginable, and that says a lot coming from you, a mother of a six year old that should be familiar with her big imagination.

As promised, Max had contacted you for the details later that day, surprising you with flight tickets and hotel already booked. You called him as soon as you saw the message, and gave him a little earful about doing too much for two strangers.

His response, "we don't have to be strangers anymore."

The harder part however, was explaining to Isabella's father, Tyler, that you were gifted a paddock pass for yourself and your daughter. Unfortunately, the race weekend was during your ex's days to keep Isabella, so you had to tell him about the plans.

While he might've been an okay father, he wasn't the best partner. Which is why when you told him, he laughed, not believing you for a second. That is, until you showed him the flight ticket to the Netherlands, where the next race was held.

You didn't have to tell him that you met Max, your daughter already did because she couldn't contain her excitement.

You spoke to him when you were standing by the door to his house when dropping Isabella off during your week so Tyler would still able to spend time with her before you leave. When he attempted to playfully ask why he wasn't invited to the race, Isabella shrugged but you knew he was actually asking you.

"You're flying out for work, it wouldn't have been possible." You didn't tell him that Max never offered, that secret was yours to keep.

The conversation didn't last long, since a woman you hadn't met, came and stood behind Tyler. Now you usually didn't care about who comes and goes in his house, but it mattered when your daughter was there. Fortunately, the woman was leaving so you didn't have to bring up the topic. A so-called rule he created when the two of you separated.

"Alright angel, I'll see you in a few days," you crouched down and kissed Isabella's forehead. Wrapping her arms around you, she whispered in your ear, "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, angel. Have fun here yeah?" Watching her nod, Tyler sent her inside and remained standing at the door to speak to you.

"I should get going," you told him and turned to leave, but he called your name to stop you. "Thank you for sending her over this week."

"Yeah, no worries." While you were fine with keeping things formal between you and Tyler, you didn't really want to spend any extra time with him without Isabella.

Truthfully, you were still in contact with him because of Isabella as she deserved to grow up around both parents and so far, it was going well.

As soon as you sat in your car, you received a text from a newly familiar person, Max. A small smile grew on your face at the thought of him. While he might've asked for your number to send the pass details, there were a few unrelated texts that were sent as well.

Whether it was just asking about your day, or how Isabella is doing, it made your days a little sweeter knowing that he genuinely wanted to know.

Even in his latest text, he was asking about your day. You responded, telling him about dropping off Isabella at Tyler's, mentioning how much you'll miss her over the next few days. Then, you drove off, dreading to think of ways to spend time without your little one.

—

You had a lot of free time on your hands during the week that Isabella was at Tyler's house. Even after checking off every errand you had to complete, you decided to do some research about the sport. It was a lot of information to take in and all you remember, is that you would miss the practices, but would be able to watch qualifying and the actual race.

It was now Friday, ten days later, and you were boarding a flight to the Netherlands with Isabella to watch your daughter's favourite driver race.

You were quite nervous to take Isabella on a flight, as it would be the second time. The first time was four years ago, and that too was necessary at the time or else you wouldn't have taken a two year-old Isabella on the plane.

However, Isabella wouldn’t have remembered many details from that flight, so it could also be considered her first.

Truth is, you didn't travel much after giving birth to your beautiful daughter, so you kept glancing at her to ensure she was okay during the boarding process.

While Isabella was still very excited to visit a new country, you could tell that she became slightly nervous as she sat down, all buckled in her assigned seat beside yours in anticipation for takeoff.

She was looking out the window, taking in the beauty of the early morning hours. That was, until she noticed the plane beginning to move.

"Mama," she exclaimed a little loudly, immediately finding your hand and grasping on to it tightly. "It's okay, Bella, we're flying to see Max right? Are you excited?" You asked, knowing the answer to the question very well but it was just a little way to distract her. As expected, she nodded eagerly, rambling on about everything she learned about Formula 1 with her daddy.

Clutching on to her favourite teddy bear, that she's had since birth, with one hand and the other still holding on to yours, she closed her eyes tightly once the plane picked up speed on the runway. You ran your free hand through her hair, whispering words and asking questions to distract her until the plane was stably in the air.

Fortunately, it was a seven hour flight which wasn't excessively long and wouldn't cause any additional stress on how to keep Isabella entertained.

Having downloaded the movie Cars on an iPad, you were able to keep her busy for two out of seven hours. She was happily watching, forgetting the fact that they were many miles up in air. Despite the fact that Isabella has watched this movie one too many times, it was still her favourite.

Especially after watching Formula 1, she quickly considered Charles Leclerc as Lightning McQueen when she first saw him in the red car on track. Even if Max was her favourite driver, she would speak of the Ferrari driver almost as often.

Fortunately, there was a tad bit of more privacy considering you and Isabella were seated in first class. The credit for that could be given to Max. When you asked him why first class was necessary, he responded with, "you two are my guests for the race, and my guests always need to have one of the best flight experiences."

Although, he didn't mention why it was one of the best and not the best. He held back on the fact that the best experience would be in his private plane. Perhaps one day, you and Isabella would travel with him and he would be able to share the experience. Which he believes would be a whole lot better than flying with his usual team.

The only time Isabella tightly clutched on to your hand, was during takeoff, landing, and some mild turbulence. Other than that, she had a lot of fun constantly finding a way to speak to the flight attendant.

She considered the flight attendant her friend, mainly because she kept bringing Isabella snacks to pass the time. Since Isabella stayed awake during the majority of the flight, she was close to falling asleep near the end.

After the events in the grocery store, you ensured to never leave Isabella's hand in a public place even after she assured you that she wouldn't run away. So, throughout the process of getting your small suitcase, Isabella was standing right beside you, holding your hand.

"Is Maxy gonna pick us up?" Isabella asked as you walked towards the exit. You shook your head, "no, angel, he's busy."

Dejected, Isabella pouted and you had to keep yourself from chuckling at her antics. "We'll see him tomorrow, just one more night," you reassured and the pout was replaced with a smile. If she could wait over a year for Tyler's promise that was never fulfilled, she could wait one more night until it is fulfilled by you.. and Max.

After a thirty minute drive from the airport to the hotel, you were able to get off your feet and relax. While Isabella was fascinated by the view from your hotel room, you picked up your phone and sent Max a text stating that you and Isabella safely arrived as per his request.

Usually, you'd get that request from your mother, as she always needed a text or a call to ensure your safety, especially whenever you were out with Isabella.

As expected, you had an unread message from your mother asking the same. "Bella, come here," you called out and heard patters of her small feet running towards you.

"Are we sending nanna a picture?" She asked, already knowing what was going on and you laughed, nodding.

You snapped a photo of her blowing a kiss to the camera and sent it to your mother. Two minutes passed before you got a response from her, "cutest as always but what about my little girl?"

Opening the camera again, you took a snapped a photo of yourself, holding your thumbs up playfully and sent it to her. "Your little girl is perfectly safe too"

Dropping your phone on the bed, you called Isabella’s name, “I’m gonna catch you!” You playfully chased your daughter, easily picking her up, as there wasn’t a lot of space to run, and attacking her with kisses and tickles.

Your phone buzzed with a text, “beautiful”

You had accidentally sent your photo to Max after it was sent to your mother, who was supposed to be the only recipient.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @158cmx @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly

[nolita-fairytale]

carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

october 2019 | covid & carbonara | heat waves | 2/22/22** | called you again | home**

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

tuesday | wednesday | thursday | friday (**18+ for smut) | saturday/sunday | monday | tuesday, again | the playlist

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

strawberries & cigarettes (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

your past and mine are parallel lines (fluff oneshot)

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list (fluff blurb)

bad moon rising (what if/angst-shot -- guest starring mikey berzatto)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

thursday | **bonus smut scene | friday | saturday | sunday | it's perfect, chef (**bonus smut scene)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

june/july | august | september | the honeymoon pt 1 | the honeymoon pt 2 | epilogue: november

granola blurb

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

part one | part two | part three | part four | give you my wild, give you a child (**smut-shot) | part five | part six | part seven

the social media au

scenes from the relationship & this story depicted as social media posts. won't always align with my other social media/moodboards.

part one | part two: first year of dating | part three |

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

christmas with carmy moodboard & blurb

The Bear: Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

so my darling | sydney adamu x male!chef oc

jealous!carmy & jealous!luca headcanon

stargazing with marcus brooks (blurb)

sneaking around with carmy (blurb)

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN is the governess for Harry's children, and they cannot hide their growing affection for each other.

author's note: part one of governess!yn (who is my lil angel baby). after the love on good omens, i finally got my mojo back and i'm back with another work! pls be kind and definitely let me know what you think (and what you would like to see in part 2!)

word count: 12.4k of mutual pining (but they just don't know it yet), friends to lovers, employer/employee relationships going out of the window and meddling modistes!

WARNINGS: death during childbirth, child abandonment, parent death, death of a spouse (you have been warned)

let me know what you think of daisies here! mwah <3

YEAR ONE

“Noah!” YN called from where she sat on a picnic blanket on the house grounds, “Slow down, wait for your sister!”

“But Miss. YN,” The younger boy groaned, a second away from stomping his feet YN assumed, “She’s so slow.”

“Noah,” YN warned again with a tilt of her head, watching as the little boy stopped and waited for the even smaller girl behind him, “Thank you.”

YN loved her life.

Whilst YN had not had the easiest of upbringings in life, she had truly found her passion and calling in being a governess. The Styles household had not been the first family she had worked for – but they were her favourite. Noah, the six-year-old little boy, was bubbly, mischievous and had a penchant for teasing his younger sister made her life interesting every day. Honorah, who was just three years old was the complete opposite of her brother – quiet, sweet and the happiest little girl YN knew.

The family that YN had been with before were difficult to work with. There was an absent father and a mother who interfered with YN’s work too much for her liking so when Mr Styles asked her to come and work for his family – she did not even have to think about it. Mr Styles loved his children, but from what YN had heard – he had loved his wife too. Mrs. Styles had died during the birth of Honorah, and from what YN had experienced it had shaken the family.

YN had started working for the Styles about three months ago. Before, Mr. Styles had relied on his mother and his household staff to aid with the upbringing of his children. Unfortunately for them, his mother had been unable to continue helping in her old age and that was when they sought out help from YN.

“Miss. YN,” Honorah’s voice shook YN out of her daydream, “I picked this for you.”

“Thank you, Norah,” YN smiled, accepting the small daisy that the girl was holding out for her, “This is a lovely daisy.”

The girl sheepishly smiled, rocking on her feet slightly as she stood above the older woman. YN smiled, tapping the space on the blanket next to her for her to drop down.

“How about this…” YN smiled, pulling out some paper and pencils that she had packed in a basket and placing them in front of the girl, “I packed these for you, would you like to try and draw the daisy?”

Honorah nodded, accepting the paper and pencils from YN. The older woman watched with a smile on her face as the girl carefully placed the daisy down in front of her, her tongue slightly slipping out from her lips in concentration as she grabbed the pencil and started to sketch. In her peripheral vision, YN could see Noah chasing what looked to be a butterfly around some of the flowers in front of them.

YN loved the summer, and the Styles children did too it seemed. They had a perfectly good classroom spare in the house to use but when the weather was this lovely, YN saw no need to keep the children holed up within the four walls. They had completed spelling tests each earlier in the morning, and seeing as though it was a Friday, YN saw no need to overwork the children.

“Miss YN,” Noah screamed, running over to her with his hands clutched tightly in front of him, “I caught it!”

“You caught it?” YN’s eyes widened, trying to match the younger boy’s excitement, “What did you catch, Noah?”

“The butterfly I was chasing!” The younger boy’s words were followed by a giggle and a small shake of his shoulders, “It is tickling me.”

“That is probably because it is scared, Noah,” YN explained, placing the younger boy’s hands in hers, “Remember how small the butterfly is? Small enough to fit in your hand. Even though you are a little boy, you are big and scary to the butterfly.”

“Oh,” Noah’s face dropped, his shoulders dropping slightly, “I do not want to scare it.”

YN nodded, “Should we let it go?”

Noah nodded, accepting YN’s help when she cupped his hands and opened them and there was the butterfly. It immediately flew away from them, and Noah saw that as the opportunity to go chasing after it again, Honorah could not resist abandoning her drawing and running after her brother.

YN leant back on her hands lightly and watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. YN had come to terms with the fact that she would not have children of her own, and these two little ones filled that void. YN had been trained with people that she knew would not be the kindest of governesses and at most hated children and she swore she would never be like that. She had been dealt this life, but she was not going to let it change her.

“The last time he caught a bug it took us three hours to convince him to set it free,” YN jumped at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice from the side of her, the man standing a few feet away from her with his hands in his pockets.

YN smiled, turning her attention back to the children, “I must admit I am surprised he gave it up so easily.”

Mr. Styles chuckled, his hand pointing to the blanket next to her, “May I join you?”

YN nodded, “Of course.”

She tried not to stare as he sat down. There was a decent amount of space between them, and whilst YN’s legs were curved to the side of her – Harry’s extended in front of him. YN would be lying if she said her employer was not attractive. Even with his mood which often reflected the tragedies he had experienced in his life – his features still stood out to YN. Mr. Styles was not shy about eye contact, and every time YN was under his gaze her heart fluttered – just as she was now.

YN looked out at the children who were now chasing each other around a tree, “They completed their spelling lessons an hour or so ago, and instead of keeping them indoors I thought this was a better way for them to spend their time.”

“I am in no position to criticise your methods, Miss YLN,” Mr. Styles nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched his son taunt his daughter from behind the tree, “If anything, this will ensure that bedtime goes smoothly.”

YN chuckled, watching as the children spotted their father and came bounding over to him. Noah immediately latched onto his father’s side, with Honorah wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Papa, did you see?” Noah’s beaming face almost shouted at his father, “I caught a butterfly! But I let it go because it was scared.”

“I did see, Noah,” Mr. Styles nodded, pulling down his son’s shirt that had rolled up at the back, “It was very nice of you to let it go.”

Noah nodded, obviously trying to suppress the smile on his face due to how his father was happy with him. Honorah, obviously feeling slightly left out of her father’s attention, picked up her half-finished daisy and passed it to him.

Even though YN knew the difficulties of making sure that each of the children had equal attention, Mr Styles did it so effortlessly. After YN’s first experience with a family, one in which she was sure that the father had no idea as to what his children’s names were – it was a lovely sight. He managed to ensure that each one of his children knew that they were loved, and he did everything he could to ensure that they did not feel the hole that the loss of their mother created.

“How about we go inside for supper?” Harry offered to the children, both of whom nodded their heads and scrambled to stand up.

YN took that as the opportunity to start packing up the things she had brought out with them and retire for the evening. Just as YN was about to fold up the blanket, Mr. Styles had already beaten her to it. He smiled at her as he offered the folded blanket to her, which she accepted with a nod of her head and placed it within the basket.

Just as she was about to turn and walk towards the house, Mr. Styles cleared his throat.

“Would you like to join us for supper?”

“Oh,” That stopped YN in her tracks immediately, “I… I should not…I would not want to intrude.”

“You would not be intruding,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I am offering. There is no need for you to eat alone when you can dine with us.”

YN contemplated his words for a second or so before nodding with a small smile on her face, “Thank you.”

Walking side by side, the two adults followed the children as they ran ahead – a supper waiting inside for them.

For the last three weeks, YN had not eaten alone.

To anyone else, that may have not seemed a fate that would be something to be concerned about – but it was strange. It had started with the supper after the day in the garden with the children and had then been followed by an invitation to breakfast the next day.

YN supposed that it had been for ease, and even more so to allow for her teachings of the children to continue into the rest of the day rather than just to the previous allotted times. The only issue that YN had found with the new arrangement was how YN was being affected by the newly increased amount of time she was spending with Mr. Styles.

Throughout the day YN did not see much of him (just like before) as he tended to retreat to his study to take care of the estate and any other issues that may be presented before him. During mealtimes, however, Mr. Styles now took his place to the left of her at the dining table.

Their conversations never strayed far from the weather, food or most likely the children. Whilst it was strange for YN to join them for these meals, there was a slight comfort that was now found between the two of them. YN never saw Harry converse with friends or leave the house late at night to engage with mistresses which had been a favourite pastime of the previous husband she worked for. A part of YN just assumed that maybe he was lonely, and a conversation with someone that was above the age of six was something that he wished for.

There was also a side of YN that missed the quiet that eating alone gave her. It allowed her time to pause and think. Whilst she loved her job, and she loved the children more than anything YN often wondered what her life would have been like if things were different.

Similarly to the Styles children, YN’s mother had died in childbirth. She had known nothing of her but that information. Her father, a gentleman from the city had remarried almost immediately and his new wife had wanted nothing to do with YN – so she had been abandoned at an orphanage. It was only due to her father’s lineage (even though she had not the faintest idea of who he was) that she had not been made to work, and instead had been trained to be a governess.

YN often wondered what would have happened if that was not the case, if she had not been abandoned in the way she had. She could have been married and had children of her own by now. At the age she was (eight and twenty) the only way in which she could even register the thought of getting married was to a businessman in the village, and yet she did not venture into the village long enough for that to even be a possibility. These thoughts would swirl around YN’s head, just as they were doing now, but then she would be reminded of how fulfilled she was in this role and none of these thoughts would matter.

Whilst YN would often brush these thoughts out of her head, there was a slight comfort in imaging what her life could have been.

YN sat on the steps outside of the residence, a cup filled with tea next to her and the light summer’s breeze a comfort to her. It was deep into the night, and there had not been movement in the house for a few hours and YN was at peace. Dressed in just her nightgown and shawl, the only comfort to her being the silence and the night sky – YN was happy. This time, whilst it had become few and far between recently was the time that she cherished.

“It is a lovely night.”

YN jumped out of her skin at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice behind her, just as she had done in the garden a few weeks ago. With a hand pressed firmly on her chest in hopes of calming her heart rate down, she turned to look at the man.

“Mr. Styles,” YN gasped, her hand still clutching her chest, “I am afraid you quite terrified me.”

“I apologise,” He offers her a smile, “I heard footsteps earlier and I thought it was the children, but then I saw you sitting out here, and I am now assuming it was you.”

“I apologise,” YN was quick to insert, unable to hide her embarrassment at the situation, “I had no intention of disturbing you.”

“I am most certain you did not,” He pointed to the space on the step next to her, as though asking her permission to sit down and she nodded, watching as he dropped down next to her, “In fact, you were very quiet, it is just me who is a light sleeper. Since my wife…I became the one who had to listen out for the children.”

YN’s body froze when she heard Harry mention his wife. It had been Mr. Styles’ mother who had initially told her about the death of Mrs. Styles. YN had never heard Harry even mention her. She had not a single idea as to whether he spoke to the children about her. She assumed that whilst he may not speak about her now, he must at some point speak to them. YN knew what it was like to have not met a mother, and she knew the pain that it causes and would certainly not ever wish that upon anyone else – especially not those darling children.

“We had another eventful day in the garden today,” YN explained, “I attempted to teach the children how to play pall mall with the old set I found but we instead ended up with a game of cat and mouse – and I am therefore not surprised that they are worn out.”

Harry chuckled, “My family and I used to play pall mall when I was a boy. I had hoped that I would get around to teaching them, but I never had.”

YN’s eyes immediately widened, “I apologise if I overstepped Mr. Styles – I was merely attempting to make use of the day.”

“No, no do not apologise,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I heard their joyful glees earlier in the day – I would allow for anything to continue to hear those sounds.”

YN wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them closer to her chest, “I know that I have given you this information before, but you do have two beautiful children, Mr. Styles.”

Mr Styles’ face beamed a smile, as though he was proud to be hearing such information. If YN had heard this information about her children she would not have been prouder to be a parent. Mr. Styles’ face reflected that.

“I wish I could take all of the credit but indeed I cannot,” Mr. Styles sighed, a hand running over his face, “Norah, is, well… she is exactly like her namesake. My wife was sweet, gentle, and kind. She was inquisitive, just as Noah is. Unfortunately for him, he may have inherited my unfortunate mischievous side which I had as a child.”

YN chuckled slightly before offering him a small smile, “It must be lovely to see her in them. To know that she is still here, in them.”

Mr. Styles hesitated. YN’s heart dropped, the fear that she had overstepped coursing through her veins.

“Mr. Styles, I apologise,” YN’s chest started to rise up and down, this time from the nerves rather than being scared, “I completely overstepped. I did not mean to offend you.”

Mr. Styles shook his head, “You did not, and please forget the formalities – call me Harry.”

YN nodded, “I am still sorry if I offended you, Harry.”

“You did not, YN, I can promise you that,” Harry offered her a smile which settled any of the woman that might have still harboured, “In truth, you are correct. Whilst she is no longer with us, I see her face every day. I see the aspects of her that I fell in love with day after day. Whilst it does not fill the hole of what we have lost, it offers a sense of comfort that I am more appreciative of than words could ever explain.”

A comfortable silence loomed over the two of them, the words that had just been spoken dancing around them, invading their thoughts. It was at this point that YN felt her sense of loss wash over her.

“I, uh, well…” YN offered Harry a sad smile, “My mother died giving birth to me too. I do not wish to bore you with the details, but I did not have a father looking out and loving me in the way that you do. Your children will be grateful in the future for that – I promise you.”

Harry nodded, “I am ever so sorry for your loss, YN.”

YN shrugged, “It was a long time ago now, Harry. Whilst I do not advocate the idea that wounds heal with time, I suppose that the effects of such become easier to deal with.”

“I tell them stories of her every night,” Harry offers her a small smile, “I will not allow them to forget her.”

“Then that is all that you can do.”

YEAR TWO

“I do so wish that I could dress you proper, Miss YN,” Miss Francis, the modiste, spoke as she continued to pin the dress on YN’s body.

YN chuckled, “I do not need them, Miss Francis. It would be a waste of an expense.”

The older lady sighed, continuing to pin the length on YN’s new-day dress. It was in a delightful lilac, trimmed with lace that around the cuffs and soon to be the hem.

“But you would look so gorgeous adorned in the latest fashions,” YN sighed but allowed Miss Francis to continue, “I do not know if you have heard, but Mr Jacobs’ son is looking for a wife.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You know that I do not entertain myself with the idle gossip of the village.”

“Well, I for one believe you should,” Miss Francis stood up, her eyes focusing directly on YN, “You have done your duty as a governess, and I am sure the Styles’ are nothing but grateful for your service but there is a time where one must think for themself.”

YN shook her head, not allowing her words to infiltrate her mind at all, “I would never betray my role. Those children need me… Mr. Styles –”

“Mr Styles can find another governess at the drop of a hat,” Miss Francis sighed, “I am sure that if an advertisement went out today there would be a line from here to London hoping for the role.”

YN scoffed and shook her head, “We both know that is an exaggeration.”

“From here to Manchester, then,” Miss Francis corrected.

YN sighed and stepped off the podium, allowing Miss Francis to help her remove the dress on her body and return to the gown she had arrived in. Today the children had gone with Mr Styles to his mother’s house, something that they did every so often and allowed for YN to have a day just to herself. It was a rarity, and in some parts, YN was thankful to receive these days but sometimes she truly did just miss the children. She would also be lying if she said that she did not miss Harry.

In the last year that she had worked for him, she would say that their relationship grew to what YN would deem as a friendship, to more than just an employer-employee relationship. That in itself was something she cherished alongside the life that he had given her. They still ate meals together with the children, and more often than not in their alone time she would find herself in his company. Even if the room was quiet – they would be together.

To anyone looking in, their situation would seem strange. In all honesty – it was. But no matter how strange the situation, YN would not change it for the world.

“I am happy just the way I am, Miss Francis,” YN smiled at the woman, “I do not need to change anything.”

The older lady just scoffed, “Well, if you are ever to change your mind I would be happy to arrange a meeting.”

YN just shook her head, “I promise that shall never be the case.”

It was at this point that YN could tell that the older woman was slightly annoyed with her, “I shall send your gown to the Styles residence when it is ready.”

“Thank you, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “Do not be too angry with me.”

“I am not,” Miss Francis shook her head, “I just wish that one day you realise your full potential, my dear.”

YN left the modiste with her brain spinning with the words that Miss Francis had said. It was not that she was taking account of anything that Miss Francis said about marriage because she knew that was not on the cards for YN. She had made her peace with that a long time ago. It was more so that YN was struggling to decipher what the older woman meant by saying that she had not met her full potential.

All of her life, YN knew that her only job in life was going to be a governess. The orphanage had made that very clear to her, and fortunately for YN – it was also something that she enjoyed. That was her potential. That was the start of it, and that was the end of it. There was nothing else that anyone could say to change that.

It began the age-old question discussion again. It started YN’s spiral as to when she would think about what life could have been like if certain things were different. Then, no matter how much she would imagine what her life could have been like – she always circles back to right now and how this was where she wanted to be.

Sighing, YN stepped out from the side of the building and onto the road in hopes of crossing it and continuing her journey home. Just as she was about to step out, a hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back by the side of the building. It was just as she had been pulled back that a carriage went riding past her, too fast for the speed of a normal carriage.

It was only then that YN realised that whoever the person was who had pulled her out of the way of the carriage had pretty much just saved her life.

“Oh,” YN sighed, her hand lifting to rest again on her chest – her heart rate rising once more.

“Are you okay, miss?” The saviour asked, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

For the first time, YN’s eyes turn to meet the man and they widen. He was tall, and the only word that YN would have to describe him would be rugged. But in between all of that ruggedness, he was handsome, and YN was not ashamed to admit that.

“I am fine,” YN offered him a small smile, “I… Thank you for that. I fear I was not paying much attention to my surroundings.”

“I gathered that,” YN’s eyebrows furrowed at him, “From the way you ignored my calls for you to stop.”

“I, uh, I did not hear you,” YN chuckles, “I was just…”

“Not paying much attention,” He chuckles.

It was then that YN realised that her hands were shaking. In the adrenaline of it all, she supposed that her near-death experience was finally catching up with her body.

“I… I, uh, thank you for… saving me,” YN nodded, pointing across the road, “But I must be getting home.”

“Allow me to fetch a carriage for you, miss?” YN shook her head at the gentleman’s offer.

“No, I cannot, but thank you,” YN gave him a small smile, “I would very much prefer to walk.”

“Then allow me to escort you,” The man continued to press, obviously not wanting to take her no for an answer, “Just to ensure you are out of the path of any other carriages.”

YN chuckled but again shook her head, “Sir, even if I was to say yes I know better than to accept offers from strangers.”

The man offered her a smile, “Well, that is an issue that is immediately fixable – Mr Jacobs, it is lovely to make your acquaintance Miss…”

“…YLN,” YN chuckles, realising by the second that this man was insanely stubborn, “But I assure you, Mr Jacobs, I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.”

“Well, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs presses, “How about instead of me walking you home it turns out that the two of us are just walking in the same direction.”

YN tilts her head at the man, “I fear that may be worse.”

“Yes,” The man laughs, unable to stop himself, “I knew that the minute I said so.”

There must have been something that made it so that once Miss Francis had mentioned this man to her she would meet him. YN would not say that she believed in fate, but this was certainly an odd coincidence.

“Whilst I am not saying yes to your offer,” YN started, offering the man a small smile, “I suppose I cannot stop you from joining me if you do so wish, Mr Jacobs.”

“Very well,” He opened his arm out in the direction she had been walking in, “After you, miss.”

YN makes it obvious that she double-checks whether or not any carriages are coming down the road before she attempts to cross it. Her heart has calmed down, as well as the shaking in her hands but in all honesty she would rather curl up with a book and relax.

“Seeing as though we are walking in the same direction, would it be improper of me to ask you a question or two?” Mr Jacobs prompted from the side of her.

“I would say that I owe you as much,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile, “Seeing as though I could have been in a very different situation if it was not for you.”

Mr Jacobs laughs, “Yes, I must admit saving one from a carriage is a much better play.”

YN shrugged, “Ask away.”

YN was surprised. The conversation, barring the near-death experience, seemed to flow with ease. More often than not, YN found herself laughing. Whilst she loved the conversations that she had with Harry, and she would say that he was her best friend within this world – it was nice to converse with someone who did not necessarily know her.

Whilst it had been nice (as it always is) to play make-believe for a little while, she knew that the second the turn-off for the Styles estate came into view she would have to return to her reality.

YN stopped just at the turning, and Mr Jacobs had not anticipated this as he continued to walk. She cleared her throat, and that was when he stopped and turned around – his eyebrows furrowing at her stopped movements.

“This is me,” She pointed down the road.

He pointed down the road, “The Styles estate?”

“Yes,” YN nodded, lifting her hand to brush her hair out of her face, “I… I am their governess. I work with the Styles children.”

“Oh,” Mr Jacobs seemed to relax slightly, “An honest profession, I must say.”

YN just smiled, “I do appreciate you walking with me, and also not allowing the carriage to run me over.”

Mr Jacobs shook his head, “Do not mention it – I would do it over again if you needed.”

YN opened her mouth but shut it again almost immediately. YN just decided to offer him a smile instead.

“Well, thank you again,” YN pointed down the path, “I must go but I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “As I wish you do too,” YN turned and started to walk down the path when his voice called out again, “Stay out of the way of any carriages!”

YN could not help the chuckle that left her lips at his words.

The second that YN had returned to the house she had dropped down in the drawing room and stayed there. The house was still silent, letting YN know that neither the children nor Mr Styles were back at the house, and surprisingly to her YN was thankful for that.

Near-death experience aside, YN had enjoyed herself. It was always a pleasure to see Miss Francis (even though she enjoyed meddling more than anything) but the real shock of the day had been her walk and subsequent conversation with Mr Jacobs.

The issue that YN found herself in was that the bridge between her thoughts and her reality had started to merge. From one conversation YN could not presume that she was going to marry the man and she was certainly in no place to do that – but she could not say that the prospect was not there.

YN could have been sat there for an hour, or maybe even five by the time that she was knocked out of her daydreaming. She had not even heard Harry walk into the room and it was only when he moved to stand in front of her was when she realised that he had returned.

“I have been looking for you everywhere,” He sighed, dropping down on the settee just next to her, “Did you not hear me calling your name?”

“I seem to be doing that a lot lately,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile but saying no more.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the state that she was now in which was very different from the one that he had left her in this morning.

“That was not ominous at all,” Harry stated as though it was the most obvious thing, but YN seemed to be paying no attention, “Are you going to give me an explanation at all?”

“I was nearly hit by a carriage today.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened, his body immediately leaning towards her, “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine,” YN shook her head, leaning back on the seat she was on, “I am just…”

YN’s sentence trailed off and then she did not say a single thing. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed again, and he decided then that he did not believe her, “Are you sure you were not injured? You did not bang your head or anything?”

“Harry, I did not hit my head!” The exclaimed rather loud, earning a laugh from Harry from across the room, “I am perfectly okay.”

The silence washed over them again. YN’s eyes continued looking forward, out of the window and to where the trees were slightly swaying in the breeze. She could hear the children squealing throughout the rest of the house, and she was reminded that they were probably happy from spending the day with their grandmother.

“How was your day?” YN asked, still not looking away from the window, “How did the children enjoy it?”  

“They loved it, as they always do,” Harry shrugged off their questioning, “But, and promise me you will not be angry with me –”

“Harry, we both know that if you start a sentence with that I am probably going to be angry with you.”

“I know this but still, I have to ask,” Harry sighed, “Are you positive you are okay?”

YN went silent, her hands messing with a loose thread of fabric on her dress. Harry looked at her, still unable to figure out why on earth she was acting so strangely.

“Do you ever think of marriage?”

Harry’s mouth opened once, before shutting again. He then sighed, and then the realisation of what had been said washed over her and her eyes found his.

“Harry, I am so sorry,” YN shook her head, completely unable to understand why on earth she would have said that, “I should not have said that, God, I do not understand why I said it.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I must admit I was a little shocked but do not apologise. My mother had a lot to say about marriage earlier today.”

“She did?”

Harry nods with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “She just mentioned how beneficial it would be for Noah and Norah if they had a mother in their lives. And when I say mentioned, I mean brought up every other sentence.”

YN chuckled. She would be lying if she said she did not love Harry’s mother. She was lovely, and just a ray of sunshine. Whilst she had not experienced having a mother in her life, she did have some idea as to what it would have been like to have a meddling mother. She also had the experiences with Miss Francis, and she gathered that it must have been something like that.

“So, you have considered it?” YN asked, her fingers still pulling on the thread of her dress.

“No, I would not say that,” Harry shook his head, “I would not say consider, but rather had the idea in my head for a few seconds before removing it altogether.”

YN laughed, “I honestly do not blame you for such.”

“Have you…” Harry’s eyes found her, “Thought about it?”

“I do, sometimes,” YN shrugs her shoulders, “I would not say very often but sometimes I find myself doing the same as you. I think about it, and then I remove it from my brain.”

YN laughs, but Harry does not join her. Once she realises her laughter drowns out, she finds herself under his gaze. She should not be so surprised that someone she has lived with for almost two years now knows her so well, but it still shocked her. Just as it had done earlier on in the day, YN found herself unable to stop the increasing of her heart rate. It was silly. He had not even said anything to her, and yet she was completely and utterly a mess under his gaze. It should not be like this, and yet it was.

“It is not unnatural to think about marriage, YN,” Harry says, and YN can tell that every single word he was saying was sincere and he believed true, “Whilst as your employer I should be saying to you not to marry because my children and I… they need you, I cannot in good conscience say that. If marriage is what you wish – then nothing should stop you from doing so. As your friend, I would even go as far as to say that any deserving man would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

YN was silent, taking in his words with nothing but shock swirling around her head. To hear him say those words, as well as the look his face held whilst he said them shook YN to her core.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, attempting to not focus on the tears that were starting to collect in her waterline and more so on her breathing.

Harry cleared his throat, attempting to mask the awkwardness that now loomed over them, “I apologise if I spoke out of turn, YN.”

“No, you did not,” YN shook her head, “And I appreciate everything you have said, Harry, I truly do but… today must have just been a lapse in my judgement. I would be lying if I said that I am not happy here because I truly am.”

YN’s face could not help the smile that crossed her features at the sight of the one across Harry’s lips.

“I truly do not believe that I could have asked for a better life, and you are the one I have to thank for that.”

Harry just nodded, “Whilst as your employer I am more than happy to hear those words, as your friend I am just delighted that I have managed to help you in this way.”

YN smiled, finally feeling as though whatever mood she had found herself in after today had been brushed off. She stood up, her eyes catching Harry’s as she motioned her head towards the door.

“Let us go find your children and get them ready for bed before they terrorise the rest of the staff.”

Harry laughs and stands up, following YN out of the room and towards the sound of children’s laughter down the hall.

YEAR THREE

“Noah, it is not appropriate to throw food at your sister,” YN warned from her seat next to Harry.

The little boy did not seem to care about her warnings and continued to load grapes onto his spoon and launch them at his sister.

“Noah,” Harry was the one to warn the little boy this time, “Pass me the spoon?”

Harry held his hand out for the spoon. Noah continued to hold the spoon, his eyes darting between his father and the grapes set out in front of him. Harry just raised his eyebrow at his son who sighed and placed the spoon in his father’s hand. YN watched as the boy picked up the grape and without his spoon launched it at his sister.

“That is it, Noah,” Harry shook his head, “If you carry on with this behaviour you will be staying here instead of going to your Grandmother’s house tomorrow.”

That was all that the little boy needed to drop the grape that he had picked up and sit up straight in his seat. YN pursed her lips in hopes of suppressing the giggle that was attempting to escape her lips at the child’s antics.

“How about the two of you go to the classroom and wait for Miss. YN?” Harry asked, a smile present on his lips, “I just need to have a quick word.”

YN nodded, wiping her hands on her napkin, and placing it on the table next to her plate. YN watched with a smile as the children started a race upstairs to the classroom. YN knew that they were going to be a handful today as they always were when they were going to see their grandmother. It was as though the excitement of waiting for tomorrow was too much for them.

“Is something the matter?” YN asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“I had a question to ask you,” Harry started, “It is about tomorrow.”

“Oh,” YN smiled, “Do you mean your birthday? Something about your birthday?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and the girl giggled. YN knew that Harry did not enjoy his birthday and that made it ever so easy to tease him.

“It is unfortunately something about my birthday,” Harry sighed, “Even though I am not supposed to know, I do know that my mother is throwing a ball for my birthday tomorrow night. She has tried to for the past few years, and I asked her to wait, and she has.”

“That should be lovely,” YN smiled, “I have heard from others how enjoyable your mother’s balls are. I hope you have a lovely time, no matter how much you hate it.”

Harry shook his head, knowing that he would be unable to stop the girl’s teasing, “I was wondering whether you wanted to join me? At the ball?”

YN’s eyes widen. That was certainly not what she was expecting him to say. YN thought that she would do what she normally does when Harry and the children go to his mother’s house which was have a day to herself. She honestly would never have thought would be what he was going to say to her, and yet here he was asking her this.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, “I… even if I did, I do not have anything to wear.”

“That is an easy rectifiable issue,” Harry sighed with a smile on her face, “I will take the children for a few hours this afternoon so that you can go and see Miss Francis.”

“I do not… how will she even manage to…”

Harry shook his head, “Please stop your worrying, there is no need for it. Do not worry about the cost or the timing for I am sure that Miss Francis will be happy to do this for you to attend the ball.”

YN just shook her head, “I shall be so out of place, Harry.”

Harry placed his hand on the table, leaning forward to offer a comforting look, “No you will not. You will be with me, and I am positive some of your acquaintances from the village shall be there. And even if they are not, it is my birthday, and you are my best friend, and I will not go unless you are there.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You will upset your mother by doing that.”

“You will upset me by not coming,” Harry retorts quickly.

YN sighs, and nods her head, “Will you send word to Miss Francis that I shall be coming to see her later?”

Harry beams a smile at his friend and nods, “I will do so immediately.”

A few hours later YN was standing in front of Miss Francis with an already complete dress on her body. YN was shocked, and confused as to why there was an already complete garment ready for her but then she remembered Miss Francis’ penchant for meddling and the fact that Harry knew that she would not have been able to say no to him.

“When Mr Styles sent word of the ball a few weeks or so ago, I knew that this fabric would be perfect for you,” Miss Francis explained as she pinned the hem of the dress for the girl.

YN’s mouth opened in shock as the older woman’s words registered in YN’s head, “I saw you just a week ago to alter my winter dresses and you made no mention of the ball.”

The older woman’s face broke out in a smile, “Mr Styles wished for it to remain a secret and who am I not to oblige?”

Even though YN was pretending to be annoyed with the woman, she was sort of pleased that she had only been told about the ball the day before. Whilst the children had known they had been going to their grandmother's for the last few weeks and each day they had become more and more excited, YN would not have experienced that. If YN had found out about the ball at any time before today, she knew that she would have convinced herself not to go. Finding out so late and knowing that a dress had already been made for her – there was no way that she could convince herself not to do so.

“This gown is truly beautiful, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “You truly have outdone yourself.”

“I have said to you all along my dear, if you allowed me to dress you in the latest fashions you could have suitors lining outside the door.”

YN sighed and shook her head. Since YN’s conversation with Harry last year after her near-death experience with a carriage, she had not even thought about marriage. When she had said that she was happy during that conversation – she had truly meant it. She was happy in her current situation, and she would not change it for the world.

But, seeing herself in this dress she would be completely and utterly lying to herself if the thought had not crossed her mind one more time. This could have been her life if things were different – these outfits, and balls could have been her day-to-day life. But, there were balls, and these dresses were now her day-to-day in this life and to her that meant everything.

“I must admit, Miss Francis, I am completely out of my depth with this entire thing.”

Miss Francis just shook her head, “Do not worry, my dear. There is no pressure on you, at all. At most, you will have a few drinks, some sweet, possibly a dance if you are lucky and that is it.”

YN sighed with a chuckle, “Goodness, I have not danced in years.”

Miss Francis placed a comforting hand on YN’s arm, “As long as you do not stand on your partners’ feet, I believe you shall be okay.”

“That is easier said than done, Miss Francis.”

The older woman aided YN out of the gown and into her previous outfit so that she could make the last amendments to her gown.

“If I were you, every time that you find yourself nervous, or without somebody to talk to I would just remind yourself of why you are there – because Mr Styles is your friend, and he wishes you there.”

YN reached out to grab Miss Francis’ hand and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you. If anything, I am lucky that you are my friend.”

Miss Francis held up her finger as if to delay that thought for a second and moved into the back room. She came out with a wooden box in hand, unlocked the clasp and passed it to YN.

“This belonged to my mother. It was a family heirloom of sorts,” Miss Francis explained, “I always thought that I would pass it to my children, but that never came to be. I wish for you to have them, and to wear them tomorrow.”

YN gasped as she opened the box, placing her hand on her chest as she peered at the matching diamond necklace and earrings that were inside. YN had seen the jewellery that many members of society wore, and whilst this was not like that – YN preferred it more. The earrings were modest, with a tiny diamond falling from a gold stud and the necklace matched. It was beautiful, and it was timeless.

“Miss Francis, I do not know what to say,” YN shook her head, “I cannot accept this.”

“You can, and you will,” The older woman nodded, “You are the closest thing that I have to a daughter in this world, and this is your first ball, and you deserve to show yourself off.”

YN chuckled through the tears that were collecting in her waterline, shut the box containing the jewels and wrapped her arms around the older lady. Miss Francis laughed in obvious shock at the girl’s antics.

“I do not know how to thank you,” YN muttered into the woman’s shoulder.

“Do not thank me,” Miss Francis shook her head, “Just promise me that you will have a good time and enjoy yourself.”

“I promise,” YN nodded.

YN had never felt more out of place in her entire life.

She knew that the way that she had grown up was different to those in society, but being surrounded by them in the way she was truly allowed YN to realise how much of that was true.

YN did not even know where to begin.

That was how she ended up standing, hovering by the wall as people mingled and danced around her. She had arrived with Harry earlier in the day but had left the family alone to celebrate with each other. Once she had joined the festivities of the ball, she still had not seen the birthday boy. Of course, he could have been anywhere in this room and YN would have missed him entirely due to the amount of people there.

With a sigh, YN’s eyes fluttered around the room until she spotted Harry and his mother walking into the room. YN would be lying if she said that the smile adorned on his face did not cause a matching one on hers. He truly did look happy. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were red, and YN wondered whether or not he had some liquid courage before joining the party. YN could not blame him and chuckled to herself at the thought.

“Miss YLN,” YN jumped out of her skin slightly at the sound of a voice next to her, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Mr Jacobs, “Is something amusing you?”

“Oh, no,” YN shook her head with a small shrug, “Just an amusing thought, that is all.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed, “I must admit, it is nice to see you. When I received the invitation for the evening I did wonder whether or not you were going to make an appearance, and I am happy that you did.”

YN just smiled, dropping her head slightly. She had not seen Mr Jacobs (or thought about him at that) since the almost fatal carriage incident day. It amused YN to no end that had not been the case for Mr Jacobs, and he had thought about her. Maybe she left more of an impression on people than she had thought.

Mr Jacobs looked around the room and cleared his throat, “How are you enjoying yourself so far?”

YN chuckled again, “I would be withholding the truth if I did not say I am slightly overwhelmed, but, I must admit there has been a lovely turnout to celebrate Mr Styles’ birthday.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed again, “That itself is not surprising.”

YN’s eyebrows furrowed in the man’s direction, “And why would that be?”

Mr Jacobs lifted the glass he held in his hand up to his lips and shrugged, “I heard that Mrs Styles extended invitations to every eligible lady in the county, as well as a few from London, seeing as though Mr Styles wishes to take a wife.”

YN nearly choked on her spit at his words but attempted to cover it up in hopes of not raising any questions. This was the first that she had heard of this subject. The last time that she and Harry had conversed on this subject he had made it painfully aware that he was not thinking at all of marriage. Of course, that conversation had been almost a year ago and his intentions could have changed since then. The only question that floated around in YN’s brain was – if so, why had he not said anything to her?

“Oh,” YN faked a laugh, “Well that does make sense. If Mr Styles wants to marry again, he should ensure that he makes the correct choice.”

Mr Jacobs’ eyebrows furrow, “You did not know that he was looking for another bride?”

YN lightly shook her head, “I am not shocked, though. I am only his governess, he does not have to discuss such important, personal matters with me.”

“I just thought that since you had been invited to the ball perhaps you were friends,” Mr Jacobs pressed, confusing YN slightly.

“To a degree, yes,” YN nodded, “But not to the degree of discussing these matters, I suppose.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, finished his drink, and placed his glass down on the table behind them. YN had hoped by that point their conversation would be over, and she could go back to watching the room – but that was not to be the case. YN was admittingly shocked when Mr Jacobs extended his hand out before her.

“Miss YLN,” He spoke, a small smile etching across his features, “Would you do me the honour of joining me in the next dance?”

“Oh,” YN shook her head, “Thank you, Mr Jacobs but I will have to politely refuse – I have not danced since I was a child.”

“Well,” Mr Jacobs shrugged, “To me, it seems there is no time like the present to start again.”

YN watched from over his shoulder as other couples began to migrate to the dancefloor. Exhaling a nervous breath, YN nodded and placed her hand into Mr Jacobs’. He led her towards the dancefloor, and they somehow ended up directly in the middle. Her eyes fluttered to the left and the right of her before they settled directly in front. Mr Jacobs offered her a smile, and that was seemingly all it took for her nerves to dissipate almost completely.

The music started, and they danced.

What YN could not see as she moved around the room, her hand tightly placed in Mr Jacobs was the two eyes watching her from across the room. Harry had been speaking to one of the many ladies that his mother had invited without his knowledge (he will remember this for next time) when he saw them. There was not a possible way that he could have missed her. When he had instructed Miss Francis to make her a dress, he knew that the older woman would succeed at making it beautiful but the only word that seemed to stand out in his head was breathtaking.

Harry tried to listen to the conversation he was in, but he could not. The only thing he could pay attention to was how she floated around the dance floor. She was smiling, an indication to him that she was enjoying herself. At one point he even saw her share a laugh with Mr Jacobs, a man that Harry knew of but not very well. A wave of longing washed over him, a longing for that to have been him.

“Mr Styles!” A voice called from the side of him, “Mr Styles?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, turning back to the lady who had grown impatient at the expense of his distraction, which was now finishing thankfully.

“I asked whether or not you enjoyed dancing?”

Harry’s eyes caught YN walking over towards the refreshment table, alone, and he saw this as his opportunity. He excused himself from the lady, who stood there in shock and watched as he walked away. Harry made a beeline for the refreshment table, ignoring any calls of his name the entire way there.

YN had just picked up a glass to take a sip when she felt someone beside her. She turned, saw that it was Harry and smiled – only for that smile to drop when she saw the expression on his face. The once smiley Mr Styles had been replaced with a look of sadness. It concerned YN to no end.

“Harry?” She dropped the drink back down on the table, “Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “I require some air. Would you care to join me?”

YN just nodded, knowing that he was probably wanting to talk to her more than have some air. Saying that, the room was quite stuffy with the amount of bodies occupying it so she would not be shocked. She followed him through the house until they could slip out of the back door. There was a chill in the air, seeing as though it was February, but that was not the important thing right now.

YN stood by the door, hoping to guard herself from the child slightly as she watched Harry pace in front of her. With each step, she grew more concerned for the man.

“You are worrying me now, Harry,” She started, her voice turning to a slight plead, “Would you please tell me what is wrong?”

Harry sighed and stopped his pacing before turning and walking so he was standing just a few feet from the girl.

“If you wish to marry Mr Jacobs then you should do so.”

YN feels as though all of the air has been sucked out of her body. Her heart begins to beat uncontrollably – the only sound she can hear is her heartbeat throughout her body. Out of everything that she thought he was going to say, that had certainly not been it. She could not even imagine why it had made him act in this way.

“Harry, I…” YN shook her head, unable to hold back her laugh, “That is… I had not even… I only danced with the man Harry.”

Harry shook his head, “I need you to know that if you wish to marry him, then you should.”

YN laughed again, “Harry you are being preposterous! You cannot just go around saying things such as that! But, seeing as though you have said such things, I would like to reiterate all of the information which you already know – I am happy just as I am, with you and with the children.”

Harry sighs, “You do not have to lie to me, YN. I can take the truth.”

“By this display of emotions Harry I find that very hard to believe,” She shakes her head once more, “And even so, I am not lying to you. I merely offered a dance, and I accepted and whilst I do not have the most experience with balls – I have gathered that this is something that usually happens at them!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at YN once more, and that is when she noticed that his chest was heaving just as much as hers was. The more that they were standing staring at each other, the more confused YN became. That all came to a head when Harry turned and walked away from her, walking into the house without a single second look at her.

YN watched him as he walked away, and she was overwhelmed with the want to cry. She took a deep breath, lifting her hand to rest a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing. YN took a few steps away from the house so that she could rest against the wall surrounding the steps, the chill in the air the last of the worries.

YN sighed, lifting her hand to her forehead in hopes that would help regain even an ounce of or so of calm again. It was no use though as all she could think about was Harry, and what was the reason behind his sudden outburst of emotion.

“Oh, Miss YLN,” YN lifted her head at the sound of her name, “Are you quite alright?”

There was a part of YN that wanted to groan slightly at the fact that Mr Jacobs had somehow found her even admits the festivities. Instead of groaning, however, YN, found herself offering him a smile.

“I am fine,” She nodded, “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, approaching where she was sitting on the wall. She did feel bad for the man, seeing as though he was the cause of so much turmoil and yet he had no idea of it. At the end of the day, Mr Jacobs had technically done nothing wrong, and she could not blame the man for something that was between herself and Harry.

He dropped down on the wall with an adequate space next to her and ran his hands over his trousers, “I did wish to ask you something after our dance, before I realised you had disappeared.”

YN just nodded, “Of course, Mr Jacobs.”

“I do not wish for you to read too far into this, Miss YLN, but I do enjoy your company,” Mr Jacobs started, “And, even though I had wanted to do this the last time I saw you I knew it would be inappropriate, but now I do not think the same.”

“Mr Jacobs, you do not have to justify yourself to me,” YN offered him a small smile, “Please, ask whatever it is you would like.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “Would you care to join me for a promenade tomorrow?”

For the second time in a short period, YN found herself short of breath. She could not believe how these declarations were coming one after the other.

YN knew that if she lingered on the thought too much she would lose herself or talk herself out of it. She supposed, in deciding for herself for once she nodded her head at Mr Jacobs.

“I would very much like that.”

YEAR FOUR

“Do you think Father is scared of bees, Miss YN?” Noah asked, holding YN’s hand as they walked back towards the house.

YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, “I do not know, Noah, you should ask him yourself.”

The little boy nodded, “I do not wish for them to sting me, but I would not say that I am scared of them – not like Norah is.”

The little girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name, “I am not afraid! I just do not like them very much.”

YN chuckled at the discussion between the small children. They both pulled away from YN once they reached the steps to the house, turning it into a race just as they did with everything. Sighing, YN followed them up the steps slightly slower than they had done. Once she stepped inside the house, she saw both children standing in the doorway of the sitting room with shocked expressions on their faces.

“What is it?” YN questioned, turning to look at what both of the children were staring at. She stopped in her tracks at what it was.

Sitting on the settee was both Harry and Mr Jacobs. YN could not figure out the expression that Harry’s face held, but she could see that Mr Jacobs seemed to be one of happiness. YN placed a hand on the back of the children’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you both get yourself cleaned up for supper?” She smiled, ushering the children out of the room before she stepped inside.

YN stayed standing up just by the door as she watched the uncomfortable air that seemed to be passing between the two men. In all honesty, YN believed that this was probably the first time that they had met properly. They had both been a topic of conversations with YN but had never spoken directly. It caused YN’s stomach to twist. 

YN had agreed to meet Mr Jacobs the day after the ball mainly to spite Harry, and the words that he had shared with her just a few moments before. What she had been surprised by was the amount she had enjoyed herself. Their walks had been few and far between over the past year or so, as YN would not have let herself forget the real reason she was there in the first place – and that was the children. She could tell that Mr Jacobs had wished for more, but she was unable to give him that. In all honesty, she did not know whether she wanted to give him that.

She had not expected him to show up at her house, though.

“Mr Jacobs,” YN greeted with a small smile, “It is lovely to see you.”

“As it is for you, Miss YLN.”

YN’s eyes flickered between Harry and Mr Jacobs, “May I ask the reason for your visit?”

Harry cleared his throat and stood up, looking at YN with an unreadable expression on his face, “He is here to ask you a question, YN. Or really, to ask me whether it is agreeable for me if he was to ask for your hand in marriage.”

YN gasped. Out of everything that Harry could have said, she had not expected that. Whilst it had shocked her, there was another feeling present that YN couldn’t quite put her finger on.

With a slight drop of her head she looked towards Harry, “Mr Styles, would you mind leaving the room?”

The second YN said those words, she regretted it. The expression on Harry’s face had gone from unreadable to pained, and she knew that she was the cause of this. She hoped that he would not let himself get too worked up over this. Whilst YN had no idea as to how this would play out, she had hoped that Harry would have a little more faith in her than to just abandon him in this way.

With a nod, Harry nodded and walked past her to leave the room. The door shut behind him, and she was finally alone with Mr Jacobs. That was when she realised the other emotion that was swirling within her – it was anger.

“Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs stood up, “I had hoped that I would be able to…”

YN shook her head and held her hand out so that he knew not to take a step closer to her, “I do not want to hear it, Mr Jacobs.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowing at her words, “Miss YLN, if I have done something to offend you –”

“You have,��� YN nodded, unable to hold back her anger, “You have offended me, Mr Jacobs. You have offended me by coming to my place of employment to ask for my hand in marriage instead of coming to me.”

“You have avoided me for weeks, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs responds, his tone turning stern, “Of course, I had wished to speak to you first, but I was unable to do so.”

“So you thought your best course of action was to show up here and what?” YN sighed, laughing slightly at the absurdness of the entire situation, “Ask Harry for my hand in marriage?”

“I only wished to ask…” Mr Jacobs stopped in his tracks, his expression changing once more, “Harry?”

YN shakes her head, even more confused, “What?”

“You call Mr Styles by his first name?” Mr Jacobs presses once more.

YN scoffs a laugh, “Yes I do, Mr Jacobs, but I do not see how that is your business.”

“I think it is,” Mr Jacobs nods, “Seeing as though he is your employer, and you call him by his first name.”

“Yes,” YN nods, “My employer who is also my friend, and has been for the past four years.”

Mr Jacobs scoffs, “I should have known. I should have known when you were at the ball, even more so when you refused to join me on promenades, and this has just made it even more apparent.”

YN shook her head, “Made what even more apparent?”

“That your affections lie with Mr Styles, or Harry is it?”

YN could not believe what she was hearing. It angered her more so than she thought anything ever could. The audacity of this man to say such a thing – make such a claim when he did not the extent of the accusations that he was making.

“I think it is time for you to take your leave, Mr Jacobs,” YN stated coldly.

“No,” Mr Jacobs shakes his head, placing his hands upon his hips, “Not until I receive my answer from you.”

“I think my asking of you to leave is answer enough.”

Mr Jacobs sighs, “Will you not at least give me a reason as to why?”

“I said leave!”

“I will not,” YN was surprised at the level at which Mr Jacobs raised his voice, “You have no authority to order me out of this house.”

That was when the door opened and Harry stepped in, the look on his face matching Mr Jacobs in anger.

“That is where you are wrong, Mr Jacobs,” Harry speaks calmly, “This is just as much Miss YLN’s house as it is mine, and if she does not wish for you to be here anymore then you should leave. If you refuse, well that is when I shall step in – and I have no qualms in physically removing you from the property.”

Mr Jacobs looks at YN one last time before scoffing and practically storming out of the room. Once she hears the front door from the side of them slam shut, YN thankfully knows that she is in all clear. It takes all of a few seconds before she breaks down, the tears streaming down her face involuntarily.

“Oh, YN,” Harry takes one look at her shaking body, and he is there, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. The pressure of his body against hers was all she needed to collapse, her legs giving way and her body falling to the ground.

Harry is there to catch her, pulling her body even closer to his. Her hands grasp at the lapel of his jacket, hoping that would give her even an ounce of relief.

“Harry,” She gasps, the tears still streaming down her face, “I am so sorry.”

Harry shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

YN was sitting at the front of the classroom, the complete silence in the room offering an inch of comfort to YN after a difficult few days. 

She was not necessarily one who thought that silent reading time was the best for the children, but she had no other option. The past few days she had not been herself, and unfortunately whilst she had tried to not let it affect her work – there was unfortunately no way that it would not.

YN was staring out of the window when the door opened, replacing the silence in the room with footsteps that could only belong to one person. It was at that point that YN realised that the children had not been reading, and instead had been occupying themselves in other ways. The pencil that Noah had been attempting to balance on his face fell off and clattered to the ground the second his father made an entrance into the room, and Norah dropped the hair that she had been attempting to colour with her crayons.

“Noah, Norah,” Harry addressed his children, “How about you go and find the cook. From what I have heard, she has a plate of treats waiting for you both.”

The children’s faces broke out into smiles, and they bounded past their father, the two of them making it a competition as they did. YN sighed, offering Harry a small smile as he closed the door to the classroom. It was the first time that the two of them had been alone since the incident occurred and YN supposed that was not for a lack of trying on Harry’s part – more so that YN had been avoiding him.

“I know what you are here to discuss, and I fear we cannot,” YN shook her head, watching as Harry leant against the children’s desk and crossed his arms over his face.

“We can,” Harry nodded, “You cannot avoid me forever, seeing as though we live in the same house, and you are the governess to my children. And more importantly, you are my friend.”

YN sighed, “There is nothing to say, Harry. We both know what happened, and I believe the best thing for us to do is move on as though nothing has happened.”

“But we both know that is not the case,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I know that you think the best thing for us to do is ignore the situation, YN, but we cannot.”

YN sighs and nods her head, “Very well, then. Say what you need to.”

Harry sighed and stood up, taking a step closer to YN from over the desk, “Did you want to?”

“Did I what?” YN offered him a puzzled expression.

“Want to marry him?” Harry asks, “Mr Jacobs?”

YN sighed and almost immediately shook her head, “No. I did not. If I had, I would have accepted his hand right then and there. I have told you time and time again, Harry, I am happy just where I am.”

Harry nodded, starting to pace up and down in front of her just as he had the night of the ball. If he was not careful, she would not be surprised if a scuff mark appeared on the floor from his shoes.

Harry stopped directly in front of her and nodded again, “Then marry me.”

YN’s eyes widen. Whilst the last proposal she was shocked and appalled by – this one, she was just shocked. YN could not even believe that those words had just come out of Harry’s lips, and more so that it was directed at her.

“Harry,” YN addressed with a laugh and a shake of her head, “You cannot mean that.”

“But I do,” He nodded, walking around the table so that he was directly in front of the chair that she was sitting in, “I do mean it.”

YN scoffed, “I understand if you are upset with what happened with Mr Jacobs but Harry, what you are saying is preposterous.”

“It is not,” Harry shakes his head, dropping down so he is at eye level with the girl, “I know that you wish to marry, YN, and I am saying – let that person be me.”

“Harry…”

YN’s eyes start to fill with tears, even more so when he reaches forward to grab her hands, “I know that I need to marry, and I know that somewhere, deep down you would like to. We are already acquainted, and I would definitely say that we are friends and I already know that the children like you. I mean – it makes perfect sense to me.”

YN sighed, beginning to shake her head again, “No, Harry you do not mean that.”

“But I do,” He nods his head, his eyes never leaving hers, “I do not think I have ever meant anything more in my life. I lov…” Harry’s eyes widen at his words and then he shakes his head, “I appreciate you more than anything, YN. You have changed my life and my children’s lives for the better. We do not have to care about what society may think, all we have to care about we think. Let me change your life.”

YN opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was truly and honestly in a state of shock.

[spider-ghoul]

Babysitting <3

Percy Jackson X gn!reader (fluff)

In which: a call from Sally Jackson leads you to help with her youngest, and spend the night with her eldest son. Lingering glances and sleepy confessions only to be forgotten by morning.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to be smaller than Percy once, kissing, none I can think of but as always lmk if there's anything!!

this might be complete shit lmao I finished this at like 3:00 am last night but I wanted to get something out to feed the beasts of this website

~~𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧~~

At six o'clock on a Friday, normally I'd be rotting in my bed after the week of school. And that was the plan, until Mrs. Jackson mom called.

"Oh- (y/n) I'm so sorry for asking but do you think you could watch Estelle tonight? Me and Paul had a date but Percy was going to the movies with Grover tonight and we-"

"Mrs. Jackson, yeah, it's fine. When do I need to be over?"

"Six is when we're leaving."

"I'll be there at five fifty."

"You're a savior."

This was perfectly fine. Me and Percy were friends and i was the only half-blood who lived around here. I watched Estelle a few times before too. No biggie. Except for the fact I'd been in love with Percy Jackson for...a while.

I mean, he was  kinda my friend. But god, he was Percy Jackson.

At five forty, i headed out. I grabbed my backpack, making sure i had the baby sitting essentials for any four year old: nail polish, beads, and my old rainbow loom (i also spent a extra minute making sure my hair looked okay so that if i saw a certain older brother) I figured that and the t.v. would be more than enough to keep us occupied till her bedtime at eight.

I got there right on time (surprisingly), and Sally greeted me with another thank you. She tried to hand over a few bucks cash, but i pushed her hand away.

She rushed out of the door with Paul after a few more (failed) attempts of paying me, leaving me with an excited two four old. And before too long, she had me watching Bluey (Though i do thoroughly enjoy that show), and making bracelets for us.

She watched as i showed her how to bead the string and make sure the letter beads where on the right way, and then she helped me choose colors.

To start i made one with her name in purple and white. She giggled and slide it on her wrist. I started working on a second one, and she told me to tie hers. It was all blue and had me spell out 'Percy' with beads for her.

"Is this for your brother?" She nodded excitedly, "well, we'll give it to him when he get here, okay?"

I got a solid hour with the beads before she got bored, and by the end both of our wrists had a fair share of bracelets littering them, and a small pile of three bracelets for Percy.

I seriously hope she's awake when he gets here, I can imagine the teasing that would come with handing him bracelets and saying, "oh yeah sorry I'm at your house haha baby sitting- oh me and your sister made you bracelets-". Or i could imagine our hands touching causing me to panic. I could imagine a million things actually.

I think this whole crush is really getting out of hand, especially with me becoming his mom's go to sitter now a days.

Estelle broke me from my thoughts with requests to watch 'Nemo', her favorite. We've watched it every time I've babysat. Part of me wonders if Percy likes it too, I mean with the whole sea god thing. 

As for her request, I made a bag of microwave popcorn and set her down in front of the TV.

I vaguely remember the opening, and Estelle fell asleep next to me before i dozed off myself.

I woke up a bit later, maybe half an hour? The movie wasn't finished, but Estelle was already fast asleep. I took the liberty of scooping her up and placing her in her own bed before going to clean up the main room.

It wasn't bad, just putting away my beads, and getting the popcorn bowl out of the way. I was tired enough, school was rough this week. I just planted myself back on the couch, finding Nemo not quite finished as I did.

I'm not quite sure when i feel back asleep, just that i did.

I'm also not quite sure when Percy Jackson sat down next to me, but he did.

I woke up, curled around a throw pillow, the end credits were playing. I rolled onto my back, and that's when I saw him.

Maybe i was too tired, or maybe he was just smiling, but i didn't feel all that anxious. At least not like i normally do around the son of the sea god.

"Do you always fall asleep to Nemo or is this a special occasion?"

"Do you always watch me sleep or is this a special occasion...?"

He laughed and my heart fluttered.

"Uhm, sorry your mom had me come over to babysit, I didn't know you'd be home yet." I say awkwardly smiley as i sit up, yawning. 

"It's fine, y/n. She texted me, sorry to have you waste a Friday."

"Oh its fine, better than doing nothing. Your sis was an angel, like always." I say, shifting, my shirt bunched up around my waist while I was sleeping. I was also pretty positive my hair was a mess. 

"Oh and speaking of my mom- before i forget." He pulled out a twenty, "now I figure you aren't gonna want to take it, but it's sally's orders."

"I'd feel bad, its just a favor. Your mom is always so nice, she patched me up after a monster attack once, this is just me repaying her."

"She did? When?" His eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes filled with concern.

And i felt my face getting hot again.

"A few weeks ago, your house was closer than mine, it's fine." I mutter, looking down. 

He sighed, "what happened?" he said, reaching out to put his hand over mine. I short wire for a moment, looking back up at him. 

"Just something on my way home from school, it wasn't bad."

After a brief moment of silence, i wanted to crawl out of my skin.

He sighed, "as long as you're fine." he lifted his hand off of mine, though I could still feel his warmth. 

I smiled weakly, "oh uh..what time is it?" 

"Uh.. ten-ish?"

"I should be getting home." I say, sighing turning away from him. 

"It's pretty late, I wouldn't want you to walk back alone."

"It's not far-"

"I'm sure my mom would say the same thing, you know."

I sighed, knowing he was right, "i don't want to intrude." 

"Neither me or Sally would care."

"...."

"...can i bribe you to stay with waffles?"

"...yeah you can." I sigh, any of Sally's food was enough to make me do just about anything. 

Percy smiled, making my heart melt.

"Great, it'll be like a sleepover. Do you need to borrow a shirt or something?"

"Yeah, that uhm- that would be great." I mutter, pushing myself up off the couch. My neck was sore, who would have guessed that a throw pillow wasn't great for sleeping? I stretch my arms out over my head, yawning again. 

"tired?" He chuckles, raising his eyebrow. 

"well you did just wake me up-" I resort, rolling my eyes. I always forget how nice Percy is. I always worry about stupid things, but when I'm with him none of it really matters.

"You woke up on your own- I was simply..." He trails off, and I laugh:

"Watching me sleep?" 

"What can I say? You looked so.. pretty." He look down at me, and I could swear my heart stops, but I don't look away.

"...Yeah, whatever." I mummer quietly,  staring into his eyes and blinking a few times before finally breaking eye contact.

After a short moment, He mumbles something about getting me to bed. I nod quickly, following him to his room, which is surprisingly clean. He digs though his dresser drawers for a moment, pulling out some old band tee, and blue plaid pants. He hands them to me. 

"Is this fine for you? might be a big big, just let me know-" 

"it's fine. No worries." I say quickly, taking them, making sure to avoid his hands. "Thanks." 

He smiles again, and I leave for the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. 'pretty'? it's nothing, Percy is just nice like that. 

I change into his clothes, the smell of ocean engulfing me as the soft fabric hangs from my body.  I can't help but to push my head into my shoulder. It smells like him. 

I ball up my jeans and tee shirt, shoving them into my backpack. I slipped out the bathroom once I calmed myself down enough to talk to him again. 

I walk up to Percy's door, "Hey, I'm gonna go lay down do you have a blanket or something I can use..?" 

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me from where he was laying on his bed, "You don't seriously think I'm making you sleep on the couch-?" 

"Well I kinda assumed..?" 

"Get over here you dork." He said, scooting over on his bed, "Plenty of room- you don't mind, do you?" 

Part of me lit on fire, and part of me was desperate to put it out. My ears got hot, but I managed to nod.

"No, I don't mind.." 

I place my bag on the floor by the door, walking up and sitting on his bed, sliding my legs under the covers and sliding down to lay next to him. I was stiff, worried to so much as touch him. But eventually, I relaxed, turning to lay on my side, facing him. 

I looked at him through half-lidded eyes, my body already starting to sink into his bed, ready to get a proper night's sleep. My eyelids slowly drifted shut. 

I was woken when Percy broke the silence. 

"Y/N?" Percy whispered, almost silent. 

"Mhm..?" I mumbled back, not bothering to open my eyes. 

"I really like you, you know that?" 

If I wasn't half asleep, maybe I would have said something different. If I had the energy maybe I would have been flustered. 

"... I really like you too." 

I only heard him chuckle before he placed a hand on my hip. 

"Get some sleep, yeah? I'll confess my undying love when you'll properly Remember it." 

I must have frowned, because he laughed lightly and pulled me a little closer. 

It didn't matter though. I slipped back to sleep, and when I woke up I didn't  remember. 

I remembered waking up some point in the night, but I didn't know what was said. 

And in the morning, I got the promised waffles and left the Jackson's apartment. 

The ever chivalrous Percy Jackson (who I woke up cuddling with), offered to walk me home. 

We took the long way, and when we reached my door step, he pressed his lips to mine and told me he couldn't wait for me to babysit again, though he wouldn't mind me coming around before then. 

He left me breathless and giddy, and so so happy to have accepted Sally's offer.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Go in Shadows

Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, referenced drug use, angst, eventual smut. Word count: ~8.5k

Summary: Summers spent with her best friend, Helaena, are the highlight of her year. However, a week-long stay at her place does not go as she expects it to when surrounded by one Targaryen brother that she pines for unrequitedly, and another that can't seem to stand her.

Author's note: For @lauraneedstochill. Thank you to @aegonx for giving this a once over for me before I kicked it out of the door. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The grass tickles delicately at the backs of her bare thighs, causing her to squirm and change position, pulling the hem of her floral summer dress lower as she crosses her legs. It’s a hot and sunny Friday afternoon in July, and she’s making the most of her four day working week by spending her day off in the park with her best friend, Helaena.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, from the six week long holidays of secondary school to the three month university breaks, and now the stolen afternoons and all too brief weekends of the working week. Helaena has been at her side for all of them. Summer is their time, a season in which their friendship has always thrived, fortified beneath a sun that never sets.

Helaena pauses, keeping the daisy chain she’s making in her hands still as she leans forward ever so slightly, watching intently at the wasp that buzzes around the open bottle neck of Koppaberg Cider that rests beside her, the heat of the day causing droplets of moisture to sweat from the glass.

“That’s going to drown in your cider, if you aren’t careful,” she warns her.

“Mmm,” Helaena muses dreamily, her eyes never leaving the wasp. “It wants the sugar.”

She watches for a few more moments, before it flies away, and then her attention turns back to her daisy chain, her numb nail piercing through the stem of the flower, before threading another through.

“Did your annual leave get approved for next week?” Helaena asks, blue eyes lifting from the floral chain in her hands to look at her hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m all set,” she says excitedly, before taking a swig of her own cider, relishing the way the sweet, berry flavour fizzes against her tongue. “So, what’s the plan?”

It’s not a question she really even needs to ask. It’s the same every year; Alicent takes a week-long trip to Oldtown to visit her father, Otto, and ever since Helaena was considered old enough to no longer accompany her, she stays behind, and the kids are left with a free house. She stays for the entire week, the house large enough that it feels like a holiday without needing to leave King’s Landing. They enjoy seven unsupervised days of swimming in the pool, raiding the fridge, and the inevitable rowdy and out of control parties that Helaena’s older brother, Aegon, insists upon throwing.

And therein lies the real reason she’s asking; to check which of the brothers will be in attendance. She has fancied Aegon for as long as she can remember, though he has never given her a second look beyond viewing her as his younger sister’s best friend. She exists in his shadow, laughing at all of his jokes, living for every thousand watt smile he casts her way, overlooking his often drunken, reckless behaviour, and pretending she doesn’t feel a burning sense of envy at the seemingly never ending rotation of girls he goes out with. His shadow seems to be where she is destined to remain forever, desperate to experience the warmth of his attention turned to her even once. The unrequited feelings weigh heavy upon her heart, tormenting her with soaring hope and devastating reality in equal measure.

As if able to read her mind, Helaena sighs. “Aegon’s going to be there…and Aemond too.”

She groans at this. Helaena’s younger brother, another bane of her existence, though for a completely different reason to Aegon. Aemond genuinely seems to loathe her, actively going out of his way to avoid her, refusing to even look at her if they’re in the same room. His responses are curt, bordering upon rudeness when she has tried previously to engage him in conversation, and so she has given up, taking to ignoring him just as he does to her, though it does not come as naturally to her as it does him. She feels her skin prickle in his presence, fidgeting uncomfortably at the shift in energy in the room whenever he enters. Back in secondary school, she had made an attempt to forge a bond with him, by approaching him with the history essay she was due to hand in, and asking for him to take a look at it in case there were any improvements he thought she could make.

Aemond had scoffed as he’d looked it over, sliding the papers back across the table towards her with a harsh flick of his wrist. “Derivative,” he’d commented dismissively. “The point you’re trying to make is too diffuse for you to adequately summarise it. If you were to improve it, you’d simply have to rewrite it.”

She had walked away holding back tears, bitterly regretting her decision to attempt to extend an olive branch. When the essay had been given back to her she had been awarded an A grade, which made Aemond’s comments even more baffling to her.

“Great,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “assuming he’ll have Alys to keep him busy?”

Helaena gives a solemn shake of her head. “They aren’t together anymore, so please try to be nice to him.”

She looks at Helaena incredulously. “Be nice to him?! Hel, Aemond hates me!”

“He doesn’t,” she replies with a gentle certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she huffs, swigging from her cider bottle once more.

“I do, actually,” Helaena utters, before turning her attention back to her daisy chain.

She feels that Helaena infuriates her almost as much as her brothers do sometimes. Bloody Targaryens.

A week later, her out of office is on and her bags are packed.

Helaena takes her bags, depositing them into an entryway closet to deal with later, the moment she steps through the door of the house, ushering her into the kitchen.

“Want to chop some stuff for me?” She asks. “I’m going to make a jug of Pimm’s for us all to drink by the pool.”

“Us all?” She asks, moving towards the chopping board on the kitchen side, where an assortment of strawberries, mint and cucumber has been set out, ready to be cut up.

“Yeah,” Helaena says, opening a cupboard and rummaging inside of it. “Me, you…Aemond, and Aegon…Aegon’s friend…”

Helaena’s voice tapers off as she pulls a glass jug from a shelf, her gaze turning towards the kitchen doorway.

She looks up from where she has been quartering a strawberry, her grip around the knife handle tightening subconsciously as she takes in the sight of Aegon standing there. But it’s not Aegon that is the issue, it’s the pretty brunette that’s standing next to him.

“Just wondering what’s taking so bloody long with the Pimm’s?” He asks, glancing between her and Helaena. “Are you fermenting the gin from scratch?”

“Hel was waiting for me to arrive,” she offers as a meek explanation, feeling her skin grow warm as he looks at her. “Hi, by the way.”

He fires off a mock salute at her, the casual gesture making her insides wither with disappointment. She was a fool to have expected anything more.

“I’m Cassandra,” the girl standing next to him pipes up with a cheerful smile, “nice to meet you.”

Aegon startles, as if suddenly realising she’s there, turning to look at Cassandra quickly before facing back towards her and Helaena.

“Oh yeah, Cass is gonna be staying for the week. Her brother’s brewery is supplying us with the kegs for Saturday.”

Cassandra nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright. “Royce owns Storm’s End brewery, he’s gonna sort us out with the beer for the party.”

“Lovely,” she says with a tight smile, lowering her eyes back to the chopping board and slicing into a cucumber with more aggression than is necessary. 

“Why don’t you go and get comfy by the pool, Cass,” Aegon says, ushering her away with a smack on the bottom. “I’ll make sure these two hurry the fuck up with the drinks.”

Helaena’s eyes narrow once Cassandra is out of earshot, looking at Aegon as she empties a full bottle of Pimm’s into the glass jug. “You’re sleeping with one of the Baratheon sisters to get free beer? That’s low even for you.”

Aegon shrugs with a smirk. “I’m not above schmoozing for booze, Hel.”

“You’re a pig,” she retorts softly, moving to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of lemonade. “What about what happened with Floris and Aemond?”

Aegon snorts derisively, leaning against the doorframe. “They only kissed.”

“And then she stalked him afterwards…”

“The week of a thousand texts!”

“Fifty seven to be precise. You remember, right?” She asks, turning to her friend for back up.

“Yeah, didn’t Aemond ghost her because she used the incorrect version of ‘your’ in a message?”

Helaena nods. “Yes, that was mean, and she didn’t deserve that. But sending someone so many texts when they clearly aren’t going to reply is a bit…” She wrinkles her nose. “...overbearing.”

“And she left him a five minute long voicemail,” Aegon titters.

“Yeah, you’re a pig,” Helaena insists, sloshing lemonade into the Pimm’s.

“Oh well. Hurry up!” Aegon demands with a clap of his hands, before walking away.

She hands Helaena the chopping board, now laden with chopped up garnishes and watches as she scrapes it into the jug, before stirring it.

Looking up, Helaena takes in the pained expression of her friend, her face softening. “Trust me, as Aegon’s sister, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m fine,” she quips unconvincingly, moving away to fetch glasses from another cupboard. “He’s just messing around.”

“I just think if you’re looking for someone who genuinely cares about you, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“What does that mean?” She asks, taking down five glass tumblers from the shelf.

“Just…don’t close yourself off to other possibilities.”

Helaena takes the jug and heads outside to the pool, before she has a chance to respond.

Always so cryptic. It’s infuriating.

To her horror, as she heads out into the garden, glasses gripped between her fingers, Helaena has set herself up on the sun lounger on the furthest end, leaving the only one free between her and Aemond.

She sets the glasses down on the patio table, next to the Pimm’s jug and takes a moment to steel herself, before heading over. Wordlessly, she lays down on the sun lounger, trying to suppress the unease that ripples beneath her skin at the imposing figure of Aemond next to her. His sun lounger has its back propped up, and he sits bolt upright, long silver hair pulled up into a bun and a pair of black Ray Bans perched upon the bridge of his aquiline nose as he reads a philosophy book.

Pretentious twat.

“Aemond, pour us all some Pimm’s,” Helaena says lazily, leaning back on her lounger and propping an arm above her head.

His brow furrows momentarily before he responds. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you haven’t done anything to help out with our gathering yet.”

“It’s your gathering,” he retorts, “I just happen to live here. I’m not an active participant.”

She sighs, not wanting to listen to any more of their bickering. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“No, I will,” Aemond snaps, standing abruptly and setting his book down, before storming over to the table.

“Christ, what a prick,” she mutters to herself as she watches him go.

An hour later, she has changed into her bikini, and is laying on her front on her sun lounger, the remnants of her glass of Pimm’s turning warm in the sunshine beside it, as she loses herself in a historical fiction novel.

She can feel the heat prickling at her skin, and knows she ought to have put suncream on before coming back outside, she’ll burn if she continues to lay there. Sighing, she places her book on the patio next to her glass and sits up, reaching for the bottle which lays discarded beneath where Helaena is currently laying, dozing beneath her makeshift blanket of a beach towel.

She applies the lotion generously to her face, arms, legs and the exposed parts of her torso, stopping when she realises she is unable to reach her back. Looking over at Helaena, she can see she is still fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by warmth and alcohol.

Aegon and Cassandra sit by the edge of the pool with their feet submerged, talking and laughing as they drink what’s left of the Pimm’s directly from the jug, passing it back and forth. She would honestly rather die than go over there and risk the embarrassment of asking either one of them to help her.

Grunting with the strain of stretching her arms as far behind her as they’ll go, she attempts to spread sun cream on the rapidly reddening flesh of her shoulder blades.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aemond sighs exasperatedly, slamming his book closed. “Give it here!”

“What?” She freezes, embarrassment enveloping her like a shroud.

“Insulting as it is that you would rather attempt to wrench your arms free of their sockets than ask me for help, I can’t help but find your pathetic little display highly distracting. Give me the sun scream, I’ll do it for you.”

She is stunned into silence by the offer, her stomach erupting into nervous flutters at the idea of someone who hates her so much actually offering to help her, and with something so intimate too. She passes him the bottle, praying he doesn’t notice the way her hand trembles, doing her best to avoid the piercing gaze of his singular seeing eye.

“Turn around then,” he commands, after a few moments of silence.

“Oh…right, of course….yeah!” 

A fresh wave of humiliation washes over her, and she finds herself grateful for the opportunity to face away from him as she repositions, glad that she doesn’t have to see the hands of her best friend’s petulant younger brother moving over her body.

Her breath hitches when his fingers make first contact with her skin, though she does her best to suppress the accompanying squeak of surprise that had wanted to accompany it. His touch is gentler than she had anticipated, soft and careful as he works to spread the cream evenly across her back and shoulders. She feels herself relax, nervous tension evaporating as she focuses on the press of his fingertips against her flesh.

“How is life at the library treating you?” He asks casually, as he applies more cream to his fingers, spreading it across the lower part of her back.

“How do you know I work at the library?” She asks, surprised by his knowledge of her job.

“Your best friend is my older sister,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though what he says next is expressed with hesitant shyness. “...and I walk past it sometimes…see you in there…”

“Ah,” is all she’s able to reply, shocked but also annoyed with herself. This is the most Aemond has ever spoken to her, and she’s so rattled by it she can’t reciprocate the effort within the conversation he’s trying to strike up.

When she hears the cap on the sun cream bottle click closed, she finally seizes the opportunity to speak. “I was sorry to hear about you and Alys,” she says softly, “you guys were cute together.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he tells her cooly, tossing the bottle onto the towel next to her before standing up and walking back inside.

She watches him go over her shoulder, silently cursing herself for her thoughtlessness in bringing up such a sensitive topic.

Aemond avoids her for the rest of the day, and much of the next, until the following evening when Aegon and Helaena decide that a barbecue is a good idea.

The sky is a muted blue, the final vestige of daytime clinging to it, delaying the inevitable setting of the sun, as the air hangs thick with humidity, exacerbated from the smoke that billows upwards from the barbecue.

“Is there room for my veggie sausages?” Helaena asks, peering over Aegon’s shoulder as he stands at the sizzling grill, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other, turning pieces of chicken.

“Yeah, in the bin,” he replies smugly, before swigging from his beer bottle.

She can’t help but giggle quietly at the remark as she stirs dressing into the bowl of salad that rests upon the patio table.

Helaena tuts, holding out the packet towards her older brother. “Don’t be selfish!”

“Ugh, fine,” Aegon scoffs with a roll of his eyes, setting his bottle down and snatching the packet from her.

She watches as he moves the meat on the grill to one side, before unceremoniously dumping out the sausages into the empty space. She huffs a laugh, shaking her head at his immaturity. 

Placing the salad bowl in the centre of the table, she’s about to reach for a packet of bread rolls to open, when Cassandra breezes out into the garden, laden with plates and cutlery.

“Why do you have six of everything?” Helaena asks suspiciously, fiddling with the corkscrew in the top of a bottle of wine. “There are only five of us.”

Cassandra gives a dismissive shrug. “Must have been miscounted,” she says, before joining Aegon at the barbecue, fussing at him for overcooking everything.

By the time they all sit around the table, a stony faced Aemond now having joined them, she is impressed by the spread that they have managed to pull together. Chicken, burgers and kebabs sit piled on a platter, though slightly burned. Salad, cold pasta, bread and dips accompany it all, and Helaena has ensured everyone has a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

The sky has begun to darken, a purple aura surrounding the burned orange glow that hangs low on the horizon, a pretty contrast to the fairy lights that are strung along the fence and overhead of where they sit.

She is trading the salad bowl for the plate of rolls with Helaena when Cassandra glances at her phone, so she barely notices when she excuses herself from the table with a flippant “be right back!”

A few moments later, she almost chokes on her wine, setting her glass down heavily upon the table and pressing her palm to her chest as she swallows forcefully. 

Cassandra has reappeared in the garden, this time with her sister, Floris, at her side.

“Oh god,” Helaena mutters under her breath, setting down her knife and fork.

Considering the way Aegon’s eyes visibly widen, it’s clear he doesn’t know that Cassandra had planned this.

Aemond sits with his back facing the patio door, so is the last to turn to look.

“Room for one more?” Floris asks with a bright smile.

Aemond whips back around in his seat, fury reflected in his right eye as he glares at Aegon, his voice dripping with venom. “Absolutely not.”

Aegon holds up his hands defensively, shoulders pulling up towards his ears. “I didn’t know!”

Ignoring the obvious tension in the air, Cassandra returns to her place next to Aegon, while Floris plops down into the empty seat between her and Aemond. She is sure she sees him physically recoil from her.

“Cassandra told me all about you and Alys,” Floris coos softly, placing her hand over the top of Aemond’s, “I thought perhaps you’d need a friend.”

“You’re not my friend,” Aemond glowers, snatching his hand back.

“Yeah, he doesn’t have any,” Aegon laughs, draping his arm around the back of Cassandra’s chair.

“Stop it,” Helaena hisses at him.

“You know, I think you’re being kind of rude,” Floris says to Aemond, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You know what I think is rude?” He spits back. “Not being able to take a fucking hint, turning up to someone’s house uninvited. That is rude.”

“I invited her,” Cassandra cuts in, though she shrinks back the moment that Aemond directs his angry gaze towards her.

“And who the fuck are you?! A vapid little nobody that my brother has decided is his flavour of the week.”

“Are you going to let him speak to me like that?!” Cassandra demands, looking expectantly at Aegon.

Aegon cringes outwardly, pulling his arm back from Cassandra’s chair. “This doesn’t really involve me, to be honest,” he tells her awkwardly.

“God, you’re pathetic!” She seethes, standing abruptly, causing the legs of her chair to scrape loudly against the patio. “Come on, Floris, we’re leaving.”

Floris stands, scowling down at Aemond as she does so. “You know, for someone who has—” she gestures towards his face, pointing specifically at his prosthetic eye, “you’d think you’d be more grateful for the attention.”

She flounces off alongside her sister, leaving the four of them in stunned silence. Helaena looks as though she wants to burst into tears, Aegon stares blankly across the table, fingers spinning his wine glass around by its stem, while Aemond quietly seethes with rage.

“Well, that was awkward,” Aegon finally says, reaching for more chicken.

The slamming of Aemond’s fist upon the table causes them all to startle, the force of it rattling the plates and glasses. They all look at him, wide eyed, as he stands up silently and walks back into the house.

She feels awful for the way Floris had spoken to him, and is desperate to make up for her earlier blunder, after fumbling their conversation so horribly. She can’t stand the thought of him being alone and upset, when both of his siblings are clearly in no position to offer comfort.

“I’ll go after him,” she says softly, rising from her seat and walking back into the house.

She finds Aemond in the foyer, about to head upstairs. 

“Wait,” she calls out, “I just wanted to see if you’re okay?”

“Never better,” he says sullenly, though he pauses and turns to face her.

“What Floris said was really uncalled for. Please don’t listen to her,” she tells him sympathetically, her eyes pleading as she looks up at him.

“I said I’m fine,” he insists, refusing to look her in the eye.

“You don’t have to pretend, it’s okay not to–”

“What are you, a fucking therapist?!” He rages, causing her to shrink back.

“No, I was just trying to make you feel better,” she whispers meekly.

“Well, don’t,” he snaps back, “I don’t need your faux sympathy or your positivity buzzword bullshit.”

Her brow furrows as she feels annoyance prickle at her. None of this is her fault, she’s just trying to offer support, yet despite that he is lashing out at her anyway. Her mouth opens, the words leaving it before she has the chance to consider them. “You are such a miserable fucking twat, no wonder Alys finished with you!”

She regrets what she said the moment she sees the fury blaze within his right eye. Instinctively, she steps away, her back hitting the wall as he advances towards her. And then his lips are crushing against hers, causing her to squeak in surprise as he kisses her hungrily, his large hand cupping her jaw. She grips the front of his shirt, his fists balling into the material, unsure of if she wants to pull him closer or push him away. But she finds herself responding, her mouth moving against his, lips parting to allow his tongue entrance, letting it lick against hers.

Nervousness and excitement swirl like a maelstrom in her belly. She could never have anticipated this. What the hell are they doing? Aemond hates her, doesn’t he?

When they finally part for air, their breathing is ragged. Aemond stares down at her, lips parted and pupil dilated. “Do you want to come upstairs?” He asks lowly.

The question makes her heart feel as though it has stopped beating. It’s one thing to kiss Helaena’s younger brother, but another entirely to entertain the idea of sleeping with him.

She falters, trying her best to speak coherently. “I…um…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

Aemond pulls back, his face hardening back to blank stoicism in an instant. She immediately feels the loss of him, the space that his warmth had previously occupied suddenly feeling chilly.

“Of course,” he mutters darkly, “I would hate to cut into the time you spend following my brother around like a pathetic dog.”

The statement makes her feel as though she has had a bucket of ice water thrown over her, hurt and humiliation spreading hotly throughout her body, as tears sting at the rims of her eyes. He disappears up the stairs before she can say anything in response, leaving her alone in the foyer to compose herself, wondering what on earth just happened.

She scrubs her hands over her face, drawing in a few steadying breaths, before turning to head back outside. Helaena is already in the kitchen, wrapping plates of food in cling film. She looks up when she sees her, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Need any help?” She asks.

“No, I’m all good. There’ll be leftovers in the fridge, if you want any.”

She utters a quiet thanks, before stepping outside, her eyes immediately drawn to Aegon who sits at the edge of the pool, paddling his feet, illuminated by only the pool lamps and soft fairy lights that are strung up around the garden. The sky hangs velvety black above them, stars twinkling in the distance.

Kicking off her flip flops, she sits beside him, dunking her own feet into the coolness of the water.

“Cassandra seemed pretty angry with you,” she says gently.

“Yeah,” Aegon replies, keeping his eyes fixed on the beer bottle he has clasped in both hands. “She’ll be back though.”

“You seem certain of that.”

“Well, I am irresistible,” he says, looking up at her with a grin. “And she’s left all her stuff here…”

She chuckles softly, facing forward again, a thousand things rushing through her mind that she wants to say to Aegon. Tonight couldn’t possibly get any messier, so why not speak her mind?

“Aegon…” she begins, unable to look at him, knowing the moment she does, all of her thoughts will unravel. “I think you know how I feel about you, why have we never…why won’t you…”

She sighs in frustration, unable to finish her train of thought, unsure of what it is she even wants to say. She dares to cast him a sideways glance and sees him anxiously chewing his lip, his thumbs picking at the label on the neck of the bottle.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” he finally admits, “you’re gorgeous. But you and I are never going to happen.”

She braces herself for the impact of the inevitable pain in her chest, but it never comes. Instead, she feels lighter. The final piece of closure she needs, permission to move on from the “what if” that has haunted her teenage years and entire adult life so far. Yet she cannot help her curiosity at his response.

“Why not?” She asks, turning to look at him.

He lifts his head, meeting her eye. “I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.”

“To who?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Aegon! You need to help me load the dishwasher,” Helaena calls out from behind them.

Aegon sighs, moving to stand, muttering “Christ, her last slave must have died of exhaustion” to himself as he walks away, leaving wet footprints on the patio behind him.

She is frustrated that Helaena interrupted them before Aegon could answer her, her curiosity piqued almost unbearably. As Aegon approaches Helaena, she hears her chastising him in a hushed tone, Aegon’s own defensive retort is also much quieter than his usual manner of speaking. She wonders what they’re arguing about, but quickly dismisses it. There has been enough conflict for one day.

Her thoughts drift back to Aemond and the kiss they had shared. She can still feel his lips lingering against hers if she focuses hard enough upon it. It had felt nice, she had kissed the man who hated her and actually enjoyed it. Then straight afterwards he had reminded her why she usually works so hard to avoid him. It was a fluke, not worth making a big deal of. She certainly wouldn’t be telling Helaena about it.

The following afternoon, her and Helaena laze around on beach towels that are laid upon the perfectly manicured lawn of the back garden, enjoying the warmth of the midday sun upon their skin.

As Aegon had predicted, Cassandra had shown back up at the house that morning, and their enthusiastic reconciliation had been what had prompted her and Helaena’s decision to relocate to the garden. Aemond hasn’t bothered to come back downstairs since insulting her the previous evening.

Helaena lays on her front, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed. She plucks a foil packet from beneath her towel and tears it open, pulling out a blue and green gummy worm. She dangles it towards her, the hint of a smile upon her lips.

“Want to go halves?” She asks.

“On a sweet?!”

“An edible!”

“Oh Christ…no!”

“Suit yourself,” Helaena says with an easy shrug, stretching the worm between her teeth as she bites off the end.

“Think I need to keep a clear head, especially after last night.”

“Mmm,” Helaena concurs, chewing and swallowing her mouthful of gummy. “I saw you talking to Aegon. Please tell me you aren’t still pining after him?”

“No, actually,” she says honestly, “I think last night was the closure I finally needed.”

“Good,” Helaena says, eyeing her carefully. “So what’s really bothering you?”

She sighs, knowing there’s no point denying it. Helaena is too intuitive for that.

“I…um…Aemond and I…we kissed…”

Nervously, she looks over at her friend, awaiting her angry reaction. However, instead of the scowl she’d expected, Helaena is smiling.

“And…?” She asks excitedly.

Why is she not more surprised by this? Shouldn’t she be annoyed?

“And nothing. I insulted him, he kissed me out of anger, then he insulted me when I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’s been sulking in his room ever since.”

“Go and make him apologise,” Helaena urges her.

“Why should I? He owes me an apology, he should come to me.”

“That’s not Aemond’s style. You’re both as stubborn as each other. Just go up to his room!”

“Why are you so eager for me to make up with him?”

“Because…” Helaena trails off, and for a moment she thinks she’s lost her train of thought, until she holds up the rest of the gummy worm with a smile. “Because I want to finish this and you’re harshing my buzz!”

Charming.

She has a point though, she supposes. She has made amends with one brother this week, it wouldn’t hurt to repair things with the other too.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” she says with a sigh, standing up and brushing herself off.

As she ascends the stairs towards the upper level of the house, it’s quiet, save for the soft sounds of music and Cassandra’s giggles coming through Aegon’s closed bedroom door. She pauses as she reaches Aemond’s room, her heart hammering in her chest, and nausea swirling in her gut as she stands outside, desperately trying to steel herself to knock.

What would she say? Would he even want to speak to her?

She takes a deep breath, attempting to push through the anxiety and knocks softly. She hears shuffling from the other side, before the door pulls slowly open. Aemond’s long silver hair is loose, and he’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jogging bottoms. He looks effortlessly flawless, despite how casually he’s dressed.

Has he always looked this good? How had she never noticed before?

He bows his head slightly when he sees it’s her, a flicker of sadness briefly visible in his eye before he casts his gaze downward.

“Can I come in?” She asks softly.

He nods, stepping back to allow her in, closing the door behind her.

She’s never been in Aemond’s room before. It’s flooded by natural light from the large bay windows, and everything is immaculately neat and tidy, from the orderly shelves of books, to how taut his bedsheets are pulled against the mattress. Everything has its place.

“I owe you an apology,” she begins, turning to face him.

His eyebrows raise, eye widening in surprise. “Me?”

She nods. “I should never have pried into your personal life, what happened between you and Alys is your business and I had no right to ask about it or pass comment on it. I’d really like it if we could just forget what happened yesterday and start again.”

“What if I don’t want to forget about it?” He asks, stepping closer.

Her heart sinks, disappointment making her shoulders sag. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head, looming over her, his breath ghosting against her skin as he speaks. “There’s a particular moment that I’m very keen to remember.”

Her skin grows warm, her breath hitching as he reaches up, his fingertips ghosting against the side of her neck. “Or are you still chasing after my brother like a pathetic little bitch?”

This time his words don’t offend, instead they send a shiver up her spine, her mouth going dry as his eye bores into hers.

“N–no,” she stammers, her pulse racing as his hand rests against her neck, his stare dark and intense. “I don’t like him like that anymore. I think I’d known that for a while, but him telling me it was never going to happen helped me to realise that.”

“Mmmm,” Aemond hums softly, leaning in, “I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.”

His lips ghost against hers, but she freezes as his words echo in her mind alongside his brother’s.

I’m glad that Aegon is a man of his word.

I said I wouldn’t, I made a promise.

She pulls back sharply, brow furrowed as she stares at Aemond suspiciously. “Was it you that Aegon made a promise to, to never try anything with me?”

Aemond nods, reaching for her again, sighing as she steps away. “It was years ago. I made him promise me he’d leave you alone, because well…I like you, and he’s not good enough for you.”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her voice a tight sounding whisper as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. “You had no right to do that…”

“I was protecting you,” he says softly, “he wouldn’t have been good to you.”

“And you would have?!” She responds, voice wavering around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “You’ve spent years ignoring me, only interacting to be hateful. How the fuck is that protecting me?!”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She cries, her chest tightening as hot tears roll down her cheeks. “If you liked me you should’ve said something, what you’ve done instead is manipulative and cruel.”

She pushes past Aemond, slamming his bedroom door behind him, before heading to Helaena’s room where she’s been staying since she arrived. Curling up on her side of the bed, her shoulders shake as she sobs quietly into the pillow, a hot swirl of anger, sadness and betrayal coursing through her body.

How dare he? How fucking dare he? What might’ve been if she’d just been given a chance with Aegon? What might’ve been if Aemond had voiced his feelings for her sooner? He had robbed her of the opportunity to find out any of it.

When the door eventually creaks open, she is unsure of how many hours she has been laying there. She has cried herself out, a hollow feeling having settled in her chest, numbness replacing the hurt and anger she’d felt previously.

“Hey,” Helaena says softly, the mattress dipping slightly as she sits upon the edge of it. “Brought you a sandwich, cheese and Marmite.”

“What time is it?” She asks groggily, pulling herself into a sitting position, as she gratefully accepts the plate from her.

“Just gone six. Figured there’s no point in us all doing dinner together tonight…”

“Sorry,” she whispers sadly, “I’ve fucked this whole week up.”

“You haven’t,” Helaena says earnestly, “none of this is your fault. Aemond has just chosen the worst possible way to tell you he has feelings for you.”

“You know?!” She asks, the warmth of embarrassment heating the apples of her cheeks.

“Please don’t be upset. Aemond’s always had a thing for you, I’ve always known. For what it’s worth, I think you guys would be great together.”

“Great together?! No offense, Hel, but your brother’s a tool.”

“He can be, yeah. But you’re more alike than you think. You just need to see beneath the tough guy exterior.”

She shakes her head. “Until this week he’s either ignored me or been awful to me.”

“Aemond isn’t the best at expressing how he feels, but he’s trying. I’ve gotten tired of watching him pine for you for so long, and make himself miserable never doing anything about it. I told him that if he didn’t say anything this week then I’d tell you myself.”

Her eyes widen, the confession taking her breath away. “Hel…”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be meddling, and I know Aemond shouldn’t have interfered with Aegon. But honestly, you can do so much better.”

“And you think Aemond is better?”

“He could be, if you gave him the chance.”

“All we do is argue.”

“Because you’re so alike! You just need to listen to each other.”

She chews her lip, mulling over Helaena’s words. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. But not tonight. Tonight my only interests are this sandwich and whatever crap we can find on Netflix.”

“Sounds good to me,” Helaena replies happily.

They spend the rest of the evening curled up in Helaena’s bed, watching a nature documentary that they eventually fall asleep in front of.

It’s early when she awakens. She can’t see the time, but can tell from the pastel hue of the lightened sky visible through the window, where she and Helaena had fallen asleep without closing the curtains, that sunrise wasn’t long ago.

Eager to stretch her limbs, having been cooped up in the same room for more than twelve hours, she disentangles herself from her still sleeping friend, and pads downstairs. 

The aroma of brewing coffee lures her towards the kitchen, but she stops in her tracks when she spots Aemond, his back to her as he stands in front of the coffee maker. For a moment she considers just going back upstairs, until he turns and sees her.

Wordlessly, they stare at each other, time feeling as though it stretches on for an eternity, before finally he speaks.

“Coffee?”

“Um…sure.”

He nods, turning to grab the espresso cup from the drip tray before sliding it across the kitchen island to her. “Take this one.”

She utters a quiet thanks, perching on a bar stool as she wraps her hands around the warmth of the small ceramic vessel. The only sounds in the kitchen are that of Aemond preparing another coffee for himself. She’s grateful they both have something other than each other to focus on, as truthfully she doesn’t know what to say.

“Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true,” he recites as he turns back to her, placing his own coffee upon the counter.

“What?” Her brows pull together in confusion as she looks up at him from her cup.

“You wrote that in the history essay that you shared with me back when we were at school. That particular line has always stuck with me. I thought it was inspired.”

Her heart feels as though it skips a beat, realising he has remembered such a small detail, but it is contradictory to the reality of his reaction to it. “You said it was derivative.”

“That was unkind. I regret it,” he tells her sincerely. “Truthfully, it was brilliant. I’ve never read anything like it.”

“Why were you so rude about it then?”

“An attempt to push you away, I suppose.”

“Why?”

He sighs, taking a long sip of his coffee, looking pensive as he casts his eye away from her, choosing his words carefully. “You’re too good for Aegon, he has spent his entire life failing upwards, being given things he hasn’t earned, taking what I work hard for. I couldn’t let him take you too. But you’re also too good for me. I already thought you were perfect, and was trying so hard to keep you at arm’s length. I think I fell harder for you after reading your essay, and that scared me. You deserve better than me, but I can’t seem to let you go. I lost interest in Floris because she wasn’t as intelligent as you are, and Alys ended things with me because she could tell how hung up on you I am.”

She groans exasperatedly. “Am I seriously the last person to know that you have feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent a long time hiding it, but now my cards are fully on the table. I’m being as honest as I can be. I didn’t intend for you to ever find out. I wanted to get over you. I didn’t think that you’d be interested.”

“Did it never occur to you to ask?”

“I’m asking now.”

“I…I’ve never thought about you that way, to be honest, not until you kissed me…”

“...and then?”

“I think I could…”

“So is that a yes?”

“You’ve not actually asked me anything…”

He rolls his eye. “I’m pouring my heart out here. Meet me halfway.”

She huffs a soft laugh. “I think we should take things slowly. Let me get to know the Aemond that’s not a massive arsehole. Can you handle that?”

“I can handle that.”

The air feels lighter somehow as they both sip their coffee, a peacefulness having settled over the two of them, rooted in mutual hope and excitement.

Over the next couple of days, her and Aemond spend more time together. He makes more of a conscious effort to include himself when she and Helaena hang out in communal spaces. They stay up all night talking, and when they’re alone together he intertwines his fingers with hers, asking her to read to him as he rests his head in her lap. They never go further than a few soft kisses, but she finds herself falling asleep cuddled up to him each night, instead of in Helaena’s bed.

It’s disconcerting to peer behind the iron facade of Aemond Targaryen, this softer, kinder, gentle hearted side is one she’s never seen before. Yet the more she gets to know it, the more she grows to like it. It’s something deeper, more intimate than anything she had ever felt for Aegon, and she realises this is because it surpasses mere infatuation, and her feelings are reciprocated.

It’s Saturday evening, and Aegon’s party is close to becoming out of control. The heavy bass of the music reverberates throughout the house, and Royce has provided more kegs than everyone in attendance combined could ever be able to drink in a single night. Every downstairs room, as well as the garden, bustles with people – most of whom she doesn’t know.

Despite this, she is having fun. Her, Helaena and Aemond have kept within their own little bubble, talking and laughing as they pass wine between them, slugging it directly from the bottle. The more she and Aemond drink, the closer they shift towards one another on the sofa, until eventually one of her legs ends up slung over the top of his.

Her mind feels fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol, spreading a warmth throughout her body. She feels happy, she can’t remember the last time she felt this content.

As the evening presses on, Aegon stumbles over to them, a few of his friends trailing after him. She can tell from his glassy eyed expression that he’s drunk. He sways slightly on his feet as he stands in front of them all, taking in the sight of her and Aemond sitting close together.

“There they are!” He slurs. “The happy couple!”

“Has your little brother got himself a girlfriend, Aegon?” His friend pipes up from behind him.

“My cast off, actually,” he says, gesturing towards her with his glass, slopping beer onto the living room floor as he does so.

“Watch yourself,” Aemond says darkly. She feels him tense beneath her, rapidly growing angry.

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me, Aemond?” He asks, cocking his head. “I let you have her! So, come on, the least you can do is let us know what she’s like in the sack!”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Aemond hisses through gritted teeth.

“Stop it, both of you,” Helaena says pleadingly.

She grasps Aemond’s hand, a vain attempt to calm him, as Aegon laughs hysterically with his friends.

“You’ve not fucked her yet, have you?! Will she not put out? Still holding out hope for me?!”

She squeaks in surprise as Aemond stands abruptly, towering over Aegon as he squares up to him. “I said, shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”

“Why?” Aegon asks with a careless shrug. “Truth hurt, does it? Because let’s face it, she couldn’t be with me, so she settled for you. Second best.”

With an angry snarl, Aemond shoves Aegon, sending him toppling backwards into his friends, stunning the room into silence as he storms from it.

Her blood runs cold, her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage as she exchanges a horrified glance with Helaena, before hurrying after Aemond, who is already retreating up the stairs two at a time.

He is pacing his room, his breathing ragged as she follows him in, shutting the door and muffling the sound of the party below them.

“Ignore your twat of a brother,” she says soothingly, “he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

Aemond shakes his head, and the look of hurt she sees reflected in his eye as he looks at her makes her heart squeeze painfully. “He’s right. You’re only with me because you couldn’t have Aegon.”

“He’s wrong.” She steps towards him, taking his hands in hers, “I couldn’t be happier with the way things have turned out. What I feel for you…it’s real. You’ve made me happier in two days than Aegon ever has in ten years.”

“Do you really mean that?” He whispers.

He looks so vulnerable, so sad as he looks down at her that it makes her want to cry.

“Every word,” she utters, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him softly, her fingers caressing his cheek. “You’re so good, Aemond, so good to me.”

He rests his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her close, his eye fluttering closed. “I want to believe that.”

“I’ll make you,” she whispers, tugging him by the front of his shirt as she steps back towards the bed.

They topple onto the bedspread, laying on their sides, facing each other. Her grip on his shirt tightens as she kisses him again, deeper this time, her tongue lapping delicately against his, taking her time with it, allowing him to feel every movement of her lips against his.

When she pulls away, she trails her lips over the sharpness of his jaw and down the column of his throat, her fingers working deftly to open his buttons as she does so, caressing every inch of his bare torso as it’s revealed to her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers against his neck, feeling him shiver against her, his rapidly growing hardness pressing against her thigh through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, as her hands move to his belt buckle, pulling it open.

“I want you,” she whispers, “more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

He groans, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip, screwing his eye shut as she moves her hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

Her core throbs with arousal as she strokes the velvety soft flesh of his hardened cock, eagerly wrapping her fingers around it, pumping softly, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him.

She pushes his underwear down far enough to free his erection, before hooking a leg over his hip and tugging the thong beneath her dress to one side.

“Feel what you do to me,” she says huskily, dragging the head of him through the stickiness that has gathered between her thighs.

Aemond inhales sharply, hips jerking at the sensation, and she smiles at the effect she’s having on him, his breaths coming fast and shallow.

“I want you inside me,” she coos, “will you let me?”

He swallows thickly, pupil dilated with desire as he nods enthusiastically. “Fuck…yes…”

She positions him at her entrance, angling her hips to encourage him to press forward. All of the air feels as though it is forced from her lungs as he pushes into her, the stretch of her body around him is exquisite torture.

“Mmmm…so big,” she murmurs, stroking his hair, feeling him smile in response against the skin of her shoulder. She can tell from the way he’s tensing that he’s holding his breath, every part of him sinking inside of her as intense for him as it is for her.

Once he is fully sheathed inside, she winds her arms around his neck. His grip on her hip is iron clad as he uses his other hand to pull down the straps of her dress and her bra, pressing his face into her breasts as they slowly begin to rock their hips together.

Their pace is unhurried, less about the act itself and more about providing closeness and comfort to each other, and she knows that Aemond is in desperate need of both right now.

His thrusts are shallow as she rolls her hips in time with his, her fingers stroking softly through the silken strands of his hair as he nuzzles into her chest, sighing softly against her flesh with every praise and word of affirmation that she utters softly to him.

She doesn’t care if he brings her to release, she wants tonight to be about Aemond, to make him feel special. When he eventually comes undone, spilling himself inside of her as he pulsates and trembles, her heart flutters as he stares at her, eye filled with nothing but adoration.

Summer has always been her favourite time of year, and thanks to Aemond she’s certain it always will be.

[chilling-seavey]

Dreamland (ln4) - Part Five

↳ A/N This part is so dang long it had to be broken into two. Whoops. But I'm also super pumped about who we (and Lando!!) are going to meet in the next two parts! Strap in, though. It's not going to be smooth sailing.

↳ Inspired By: 'Grapejuice' by Harry Styles

↳ Summary: George and Alex visit Lando in Monaco for a week that summer. Their visit seems to align perfectly well with the week where yours and Lando's situationship is tested the most

↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex

↳ Word Count: 20.6k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, angst and less than ideal ways of solving problems, talks of virginity, hints of dom/sub dynamics and possessiveness, name calling/degradation, spanking, spitting, borderline exhibitionism, oral sex (m & receiving), cumplay, [kinda rough] unprotected sex.

PART FOUR || PART SIX

You had insisted that he go by himself. In all honesty, there should have been no reason why Lando was nervous but there was something so menacing about the Nice airport in mid afternoon on Friday that didn’t help to ease his anxieties over finally meeting his two internet friends after nearly years of talking. He didn’t put up much of a fight when he asked you to come and you said he would be just fine on his own - he didn’t want to look like a baby in front of you - but as he stood in the arrivals gate with his heartbeat in his ears, he was slightly regretting not pleading with you just a little bit more. 

Lando, George, and Alex knew each other better than anyone else in the world, it was just unfortunate that they lived in different parts of the country and therefore could never see each other in person. Thanks to you, that was going to change. At least for a week. With Lando living in Monaco for the summer and working alongside you and your team at your publishing company, you had arranged for his two closest friends to fly down to spend a week with him. It was yet another reminder that your relationship was something more than just something casual. A title yet to be determined between you, Lando was just happy that he was able to live out his dream of having something with you. 

Lando had probably paced the arrival gate a few times over since arriving at the airport that afternoon, trying to calm himself down in this uncharted territory. He was an avid overthinker and worried if his friends would think he was boring in person or weird or if they would find someone better in the sparkling city of Monte Carlo and drop him. Lando tried to breathe. On the outside, to onlookers, he looked simply neutral. On the inside, he was completely panicking.  

The large screen above the arrival doors indicated that the flight from Norwich International Airport had landed. 

George had arrived first. 

The moment he emerged through the arrival gates, Lando was straightening up in the crowd, his mind whirling as George scanned the faces of strangers to find him. Working up his courage, Lando raised his hand up and when George caught his gaze, he smiled widely and started over towards him. Lando bit back his grin as excitement grew in his chest to offset the nervousness that was still lingering in the pit of his stomach. 

“Lando!” George greeted happily with a handsome smile and reached out a hand as they approached. 

Lando took his hand and they both went in for a smooth one armed hug and a pat to each other’s backs before stepping away again. There was a moment's pause as they just stared at each other with content smiles and their slightly awkward silence had them sharing little chuckles. 

“This is unreal, mate.” George said with a heavy sigh, “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Lando shuffled his weight in front of him, “Monaco of all places.”

“I know!” George reached out to nudge his arm, “Who’d have thought it, huh?”

“I mean…I dreamt it.” Lando mumbled. 

“I guess manifesting works.”

“Guess so.” Lando smiled lightly. 

There was another pause. 

“How was your flight?” Lando asked casually, trying to make conversation until the last of their trio would arrive. 

George shrugged, “It was good. Were you waiting here long?”

“Not really. Maybe twenty minutes.” Lando assured him. 

George checked the time on his phone, “And when’s Alex landing?”

“Maybe forty-five?” 

“Perfect. Enough time for a coffee run.” George hoisted the straps of his backpack up his shoulders and adjusted his Tommy Hilfiger jacket - that he spent an entire paycheque on last year - as he scanned the busy airport, “Which way?”

“Uhm,” Lando looked both directions before pointing in the way of the cafés, “that way, I think.” 

“Great. Lead the way…and tell me all about your lady.”

“You already know everything.” Lando chuckled as they started off down the bustling airport hallways, “We text literally every day.” 

“Yeah, but I wanna hear it all in person.” 

Right on time, forty-five minutes later, the arrivals screen announced that the flight from Heathrow International Airport had landed. 

Alex had arrived.

George still had his coffee in hand - half finished - and Lando had his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t get anything from the café mainly because he still felt like throwing up from nervousness but he played it off that he had a big lunch when George asked if he could buy him anything. Their conversation had flowed pretty well as Lando grew more confident being face to face with someone he had only ever talked to through a screen but with Alex’s impending arrival, his slight anxieties were back. 

When the final member of their trio stepped through the arrival gates, George wasn’t even hesitating a minute before waving to him. 

Spotting him easily, Alex grinned ear to ear and raised one hand up in return, calling across the crowd excitedly, “My boys!” 

The three hurried to meet up and excited hugs were shared over jackets and backpacks, standing beside suitcases and within the depths of the crowd. Alex had a way of making everything feel a little lighter - a little easier - and Lando found his nervousness melting away faster than before since familiarizing himself with George and now being completed by Alex’s arrival. 

Standing in a little triangle, Lando frowned, looking between Alex and George with a playful scowl, “My God, I never thought of myself as that short but why am I the shortest right now?” 

Alex laughed and George just smiled, offering him a reassuring, “You’re not that much shorter than us.” 

“Are you kidding? I look like your kid.” Lando tutted. 

“I’m also the oldest so it makes sense that I’m the tallest.” Alex countered, giving him a nudge too. 

“Oh, older than me by, like, barely two years.” George scoffed. “Besides, is age Lando’s excuse then? He’s the baby of the group after all.”

Both George and Alex looked at him and Lando opened his mouth to say something but his words failed him and he simply held his hand over his face with a shy laugh. 

“The youngest out of the three of us and the only one who’s not a virgin.” George pressed teasingly, “How’s that fair?”

“Oh my gosh!” Lando blushed, hurriedly giving George’s shoulder a shove as his two friends snickered between themselves. 

“You’re so shy in person.” Alex pointed out, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulders, “You’ve literally sent us a picture of your scratched up back and detailed descriptions of how you fuck the girl of your dreams and here you are barely being able to word a ‘hello’ without blushing.”

“Okay,” Lando dipped out from under his arm bashfully, “No need to be bullying me like this.”

“Hey, you’re like…our youngest triplet brother. It’s only fair we get to bully you a little.” Alex said. 

“And it’s hardly bullying.” George added. 

Lando pointed an accusatory finger at the both of them, “You be nice to me or I’ll have my wealthy and insanely successful and attractive woman ship you back home.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” his friends laughed teasingly and the three guys shared cheeky smiles and playful tugs to each other’s sweaters. 

“There he is!” George patted Lando’s shoulder, “That’s the Lando we know.” 

Lando just laughed and shoved his hand away, “Come on. The car is waiting outside.”

“Monaco, baby, let’s go!” Alex clapped once and then rubbed his palms together and the three of them grabbed any and all bags and suitcases and headed towards the exit of the airport, ready to face the sunshine and their week ahead. 

George and Alex wouldn’t shut up about the black SUV that picked them up from the airport and took them to the hotel. Just as Lando had only a month or two before, they were just as thrilled about the mini fridge inside and the sleek leather seats that deserved nothing less than absolute gushing reviews. A personal driver to their multi-star hotel. The full Monte Carlo experience. 

“You got yourself a real sugar mama, Lan.” Alex tisked through his proud smile as they stepped out of the car and onto the pavement at the front doors of the luxury hotel. 

Landscaped with palm trees and coloured flowers, the hotel was in the heart of Monte Carlo and was sculpted as one would imagine a modest five-star hotel to be. In the late afternoon, the flood lights streaked up the front pillars and lined the pathway towards the sliding glass doors into the lobby. The driver started to take their suitcases from the trunk. 

“Hardly a sugar mama.” Lando snorted. 

“I mean, she is giving you sugar after all.” George smirked over at Alex. 

“She is?” Lando scoffed, “Please. I’m the one giving it to her.”

His friends burst into laughter at his smooth response and the driver - already half sick of their rambunctiousness as twenty-something-year-old boys - set their suitcases with them and closed the trunk. They called their thanks as he returned to the driver's seat and drove off, leaving them to their own devices. 

Lando led the way into the hotel and past the two-storey entryway and curling staircase towards the elevators and his friends followed eagerly, already talking his ear off with questions they wanted to hear to answers to in person that they didn’t have a chance to ask in the super cool car. 

“So how often do you actually stay in the hotel?” George pressed as they all piled into the elevator and Lando hit the button for the eighth floor. 

“Maybe half the time.” Lando shrugged proudly as the doors slid closed. 

“My boy!” Alex shook his shoulder from his other side. 

“Although we can’t really go out properly because it’s Monaco and I’m supposed to just be some interning fan at the company…kinda just feels like half-strangers with benefits but…”

His friends looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

Lando broke into a grin, “The benefits are so good.”

“How often a week?” Alex pried. “Come on. We gotta live vicariously through you!”

Lando smiled bashfully to the elevator numbers that approached eight. He shrugged, playing it cool, “Maybe five times a week? Sometimes more if we can go a second round.” 

“Jesus.” George groaned, running his hands over his face. 

On Lando’s other side, Alex was merely gaping and he shook his head, “Unbelievable.” 

“Although,” Lando countered just as the elevator reached their floor and the doors slid open, “we’re mostly using condoms now which fucking sucks.”

The two middle aged women who were waiting for the elevator on the same floor gave him a weird look as they so clearly heard what he said as their groups passed each other. Lando went red and nearly rushed down the hallway in embarrassment as Alex and George roared with laughter and hurried after him. 

“Have you told her about your little breeding kink?” George teased as Lando unlocked the room door. 

“No.” Lando hushed him quickly. “It’s not something she’d be into…not right now. She’s so busy with work and writing her fifth novel…she’d probably be completely turned off of even the idea of a baby right now. I don’t want to weird her out or make her uncomfortable.” 

Alex and George exchanged little changes behind his back and then followed him into the hotel room. The afternoon sun warmed the patterned carpet and pristinely made white linen sheets over the two queen beds, guiding them farther into the room and past Lando’s suitcase that was tucked empty in the corner as he had his belongings packed away in drawers and the closet. He was to be staying there all summer and living out of a suitcase would not be ideal. 

“Dibs on sharing with George.” Alex dropped his backpack onto the bed closest to the window, “I don’t wanna sleep in a bed that Lando probably fucked in.”

“Hey!” Lando glared over at him and George just laughed, “First of all, the sheets are cleaned every day. And secondly, we do it at her house, not here. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, right.” George piped up, flopping backwards onto the bed that Alex claimed for the both of them and he tucked his hands behind his head, “Then say that we don’t want to sleep in a bed that you probably wanked in.” 

“You guys are fucking disgusting. Have you always been this gross over message?” Lando rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you made us this way.” George argued. 

“You corrupted us.” Alex added.

“With all your filthy fantasies about this author girl you were drooling over.” George finished. 

“We have the receipts if you need proof.” Alex offered. 

Lando shuttered lightly despite his light chuckle, “No thanks. They’re probably so cringey.” 

Alex unzipped his backpack and took his headphones from around his neck to tuck away, “Too good for our thirsting hours now that you got the girl, Lan?”

“Never.” Lando chuckled with a shake of his head and he sat himself on the end of his own bed. 

George was texting away in his own world and when a silence settled, both Lando and Alex looked over at him expectantly. A few seconds later, George felt their staring and looked up, glancing between them. 

“What? I’m just texting my mum that I arrived.”

“Shit!” Alex pulled his phone from his pocket, “I need to do that too.”

Lando sat on the end of his own bed and rested his hands behind him, smirking proudly over at his friends, “Imagine having overprotective parents? Couldn’t be me. I’m living alone in Monaco…on my own schedule…”

Alex snorted without looking up from his text messages, “Yeah, okay. Says the twenty-one-year-old who got grounded a week before he left because he didn’t take out the trash.”

George chuckled from behind his phone. 

“Wow. Lot of smart talk today coming from a virgin.” Lando clapped back. 

“Oh shit!” George laughed. 

Alex gaped over at Lando who just smirked sweetly and peaked a brow at him. 

“That’s cold, mate. That’s cold.” Alex shook his head, although they all knew it was just in good fun. 

“Hey, I dunno about you, Albono, but I plan on losing mine while on this trip.” George said proudly and tucked his hands behind his head. 

“Not in our shared bed, you’re not.” Alex sassed. 

“It’ll be like we’re all roommates in college!” George laughed, “We’ll put a sock on the door when one of us has a girl over.” 

Lando answered quickly, “Speak for yourself. I have a million dollar penthouse to escape to when I need privacy away from you two old men.” 

Alex shook his head, “Are we really just going to bully each other this entire week?”

“Maybe. It’s kinda our brand.” George chuckled. 

There was a pause and at that moment, Lando’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He casually took it out to see who was calling, expecting his mother, but your name instead was across the screen, paired with your contact photo of a picture Charles had taken of you on one of the days your little work group went out for lunch. You didn’t have many private pictures just the two of you for extra privacy’s sake but Lando was okay with that - the real thing was much better than photos. 

The sight of your incoming call had him jumping up from the end of the bed in surprise, gasping before alerting his friends, “It’s her! Everyone shut up!”

Alex looked over at George and they shared amused little expressions before Alex snorted quietly, “We weren’t even saying anything but okay.”

Lando answered the call and raised his phone to his ear, keeping his wide wondering eyes on his friends as they would witness their first real-life interaction between the two of you, “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” you greeted through the phone. “Just called to check in and make sure George and Alex got there okay and the driver was good for you.”

“Yeah, the car was great.” Lando answered, slightly off topic, earning a thumbs up from both of his best friends, “And we all just got to the room now.”

“Good. I gotta admit it’s a little lonely at work without you…”

“Really?” Lando answered proudly, “Do you miss me?”

“Of course. You’re coming in on Monday, right?”

George and Alex exchanged smirks that had Lando holding his hand up to them as if to get them to stop distracting him. 

“Monday. Yeah.” Lando answered. 

Then his friends started with the kissing faces, mocking him annoyingly with ridiculous sound effects, and Lando turned away from them to try and focus on what you were saying. 

“And are we still thinking lunch tomorrow?” you asked. 

“Yeah. That’d be great.” 

From behind him, Alex and George were snickering together and it made Lando nervous again, feeling so watched even if it were only by his best friends. He didn’t want them to embarrass him in front of you. 

“Good. I’ll text you the details and you can let me know if that fits into your touristy schedule, okay?”

“Yeah…that…” Lando glanced back at his smirking friends. “That’s good.”

“Okay.” you could tell he was distracted so you wrapped up, “And the room is on my card so you guys can order room service or something if you want.”

“Oh…are you sure?”

“Yeah! You guys have fun. I can’t always have you to myself.”

“I don’t mind when you have me to yourself.”

Your sweet laugh through the phone had him grinning adoringly and you told him honestly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, lover.”

“See you tomorrow, baby.” 

Lando hung up and took a second to stare at your contact picture with a bashful grin, almost half forgetting that his friends were even there for a second. He was all too enamoured by you. 

Suddenly, Alex’s mocking had him startling back to reality, “See you tomorrow, baby.”

George joined in with a, “I love you so much I want you to have my children.”

Lando turned around to face them again but he was grinning nonetheless, shushing them modestly, “Okay, okay.”

His friends laughed teasingly and Lando drifted over to the desk across the room to grab the leather covered menu.

“So she said we can order room service if we want.”

“Oo.” George jumped up from the bed and came over to join him, peering over his shoulder at the menu. “Let’s order steak!”

Alex took to Lando’s other side, “Or caviar!” 

“Do you even like caviar?” George retorted. 

Alex shrugged back, “There's a first time for everything.”

“Okay…how about, like, chips?” Lando pitched, “I seriously don’t want to max out her credit card.”

“Burgers then?” Alex offered, pointing it out on the menu in Lando’s hand. 

The other two agreed. 

“Burgers and chips all around.” Lando reached for the chorded hotel room phone. 

The next morning was Saturday and between jet-lag and excitement, the three guys were up before 8am. The hotel served breakfast and by 9am, they had eaten, been dressed, and were waiting outside for their Uber to get their adventures started. Lando had already been familiar with most of Monaco since he had lived there for a few months at that point so he was excited to be acting tour guide for his friends. 

He had planned a whole day - definitely not earlier that week at his desk when he was supposed to be doing real work - and had their destinations written in his phone, leaving a section free for lunch where you would meet them to take the three of them out. Most of their morning was spent around the Monaco Grand Prix routes - dreaming about their motorsports lives that could have been - and touring nearby locations of stars, artsy stores, and any locations that caught their interest along the way. Alex and George stocked up on Monte Carlo merch and George even blew a good chunk of his money on a pair of genuine Hermes loafers that he wore proudly through the square outside the Casino. 

When noon came around, it was time for them to meet you at the restaurant where you would be waiting. As Lando led the way - with some help from his phone maps - he found himself growing nervous again. So nervous in fact that he kept taking wrong turns until they ended up a few minutes late. Alex and George didn’t speak to it though because it was clear that their best friend was turning into his usual shy over-thinking self and they didn’t want to embarrass him further - especially not in front of you. Their friendship might have thrived on lighthearted banter, but they knew their limits. 

You were waiting outside the restaurant when they walked up, your car parked on the street with the parking meter already running and you were leaning against the passenger side door. Lando broke into a grin at the sight of you and you pushed yourself off your car with a smile that matched his own once you saw him approaching. George and Alex - only slightly starstruck at the reality check that was the fact that you were really truly there - followed slowly behind Lando as he hurried over to you. 

“Hey, you.” you held your arms out and Lando slid right in for a close hug. 

“Hey, yourself.” he smiled, holding onto you just a second longer than necessary. You didn’t mind. 

Lando shifted to stand right at your side as he introduced you to his friends, starting with Alex who had to shift his bags of Monaco merch into the other hand so he could shake yours. When Lando went to introduce George, he was simply gaping at your car. 

“Quit staring, GR.” Alex elbowed him teasingly, “It’s rude.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” George held out his hand to you just as Alex had, slightly nervous himself to know if he should go in for a hug and especially under Lando’s watchful eye from your side. He looked back at your car and let his eyes scan it greedily, “This is yours?”

“Yep.” you reached back to pat the roof.

“Jesus.” George breathed. “Mercedes-AMG…C 63 S…the silver. Shit, this is literally my dream car.” 

“Keep your tongue in your mouth, dude.” Alex snorted. 

You laughed lightly and Lando watched you carefully as you stared at George’s obvious drooling over your shiny silver car. He just wanted to touch you so badly…to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in and nuzzle into your neck…so he stuffed his hands in his pockets instead. 

Proudly, you unlocked your car and opened the passenger door so George could look inside and you pointed out all the cool little features that had him completely fangirling over it. You kept it so perfectly clean that it was almost as pristine as new and George was almost afraid to touch any of it. Lando and Alex, waiting on the sidewalk with you and George both leaning inside your car, exchanged little expressions of half-amusement and half-concern. 

But Alex ended up smiling and nudged Lando’s arm as he mouthed with a whisper, “She’s real.”

“Yeah?” Lando whispered back with a surprised expression like anyone wouldn’t believe him. 

“It’s a little crazy…surreal?” Alex shrugged. 

Lando looked back at you and tried not to stare at the curve of your ass in your jeans as you bent over into the front of your car. He tilted his head to the side habitually and licked away his shy smile, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you stood back up with a laugh and when George returned to Alex’s side with a blissed out smile, you closed the door again and locked the car, “shall we head in?”

“Thanks for that.” George took to your other side as Alex led the way into the restaurant. “I’ve only ever been able to see those cars online…never in person.” 

George was only being friendly but Lando caught himself dusting his hand over the small of your back almost protectively as you all entered and made your way towards the host stand for your reservation. You let his hand linger there for a few seconds, thinking he was just being polite, but when he didn’t move it, you looked back at him. 

“Okay?” you asked. 

He smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

You discreetly guided his hand away from your waist and then took the lead of your little group towards your table. Lando stayed close behind you and when the host set your menus down and then left, he was jumping into the booth seat beside you. 

“Dibs on sitting here.” he said with a little nervous sing-song to his voice. 

George and Alex sat on the opposite side of the table from the two of you and as you smiled down to your menu at Lando’s claim, his friends just snorted and shook their heads. 

Alex tisked, “No one was going to fight you on that, mate.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink and he hid behind his menu so no one would call him out. 

Under the table, you set a reassuring hand on his thigh and he reached down to tuck his fingers around yours, giving your hand a squeeze. No one noticed. You both pulled away again and continued skimming your menus without so much as a glance towards each other. It was almost as if you were too comfortable sneaking around. 

The waiter came by not long later and introduced himself and pitched the offer of drink orders. George and Alex ordered soda’s and Lando gestured to you to order first. 

“A bottle of red, please. Do you have Cabernet?”

“Yes. Glasses for the table?” the waiter asked. 

You glanced across to the other two who shrugged dumbly, having never had wine before. 

You smiled back to the waiter, “Yes, four glasses, just in case. Thank you.” 

“Since when do you drink wine, Lan?” Alex asked once the waiter had disappeared. 

Lando shrugged with a bashful smile, “Since a few months ago when I took this woman out for dinner and we shared a glass.” 

You nudged his shoulder with yours playfully and you shared little grins. 

“I guess it’s kind of our thing now, huh?” you said. 

Lando’s eyes dropped to your lips for a brief second before he was meeting your gaze again and answering coolly, “Yep.”

Oh how he craved to kiss you. 

The waiter returned not long after with your drinks and he poured all four of you a glass before setting the bottle on the table. With food orders placed, your little group was permitted some time to chat before it would be time to eat. 

You asked George and Alex about their college careers and where they have been since graduation. Alex spoke to his degree and how he had worked part time at a cat café in London but was still at home with his parents, making sure to spin it like it was a choice rather than a necessity. George took his turn next to explain his degree and goals, how he really wanted to try his hand at motosports but his parents never had the funds to put him into it growing up. 

Lando sipped his wine and paid close attention to your expression, how obviously interested you were in everything that they were saying, and he couldn’t help but see similarities in your face from the way you looked at him on the first day you met. He was overthinking again. Between your connection with George over your car to your pitch in conversation with Alex about your favourite animals, Lando was squirming for a conversation switch. 

Lando set his glass down and cleared his throat nervously. You glanced over at him and nudged him gently with your elbow, urging him to look back at you. Sitting side by side, you were quite close, and although neither of you made any sort of romance-infused move, your closeness and your eye contact still had Alex and George keeping extra watch. 

“So,” you started, setting a dramatic hand on Lando’s knee under the table, “I don’t think you have ever told me about how you three started talking.” 

“Oh, really!” Alex’s eyebrows raised and the two best friends looked over at Lando with amusement. 

“Did you not?” George pressed, his tone just as infused with teasing as Alex’s. 

Lando turned his head away from you to look to the table top with a blushing smile, “Guess not.”

“Oh no.” you giggled, “I made him shy. This must mean it’s a good story.”

“You wanna tell, Lan?” Alex offered. 

Lando contemplated the offer and realizing that it could have been a perfect opportunity for his best friends to exaggerate and make him sound terribly creepy, he took it upon himself, “Well…I had this little…pointless…not a big deal blog a couple years ago.”

Alex corrected him smoothly, “Two years ago.” 

“And,” Lando pressed on, “on this blog I reposted your Instagram pictures and stuff and wrote little reviews about your novels and little journal entries and stupid stuff like that.” 

“Aw,” you grinned and leaned into him for a moment, “That’s so cute. Like a true little fanboy.” 

“Yeah and these two were my most avid followers so don’t blame it all on me.” Lando nodded to the two across the table. 

“So they were fans of you being a fan of me.” you teased. 

“Hey!” Alex and George laughed. 

“No way were we fans of Lando.” George tisked. 

“Yeah, that guy sucks.” Alex gave a thumbs down to the table.

“Okay, fuck you.” Lando chuckled bashfully. 

“I dunno,” you pitched, “I think he’s pretty great to be honest.” 

George hummed, “I think you might be a little biased.”

Lando’s wide eyed glare and a stiff warning shake of his head had his friends shutting right up.

“Why biased?” you pried, ready to stir the pot and see what they had to say. Lando tried to read your expression but he couldn’t, torn between whether you were teasing them or genuinely concerned. He had never confessed to you just how much he shared with his best friends regarding your little strange relationship. 

“Uhm,” George tried to get himself back out of the hole he dug, “because…you know…”

“He’s your intern…and stuff…” Alex jumped in. 

You licked away your little smirk and you nodded, “I see.”

“Yep.” George nodded too. 

Lando held his breath. 

“No other reason?” you tried. 

George and Alex looked at Lando’s stricken expression and then back to you. They both shrugged. 

“Oh, come on.” you tisked, “I know that you know. I’m not dumb.”

There was an array of relieved sighs from around the table. 

You gaped at them, “What did you think I was going to do? Ship you all home? Like, damn, if I can tell my best friends all the tea, I think you guys should be able to know too.” 

“I dunno, we never talked about it.” Lando shrugged, slightly defensively. 

You bumped his shoulder again with a smile, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

“Says you.” Lando bumped you back. 

You turned back to his friends, “Did he say I was good?”

Lando spoke your name in exclaimed surprise at your blunt question but his friends just laughed. 

“We’re not ratting our boy out that easily, nice try.” Alex wagged a finger at you across the table. 

“I mean not like he has anything to compare it to.” George countered. 

“Wow.” Lando shook his head while you just giggled proudly and leaned into him again for a moment. 

Your eyes met and the two of you kept your eye contact for a few lingering seconds, sharing sweet smiles side by side as the reminder of the history of your strange little relationship hovered in your mind. You leaned your head against his for a second before turning back to the table like there was nothing going on between you. Lando reached for you under the table and you let him hold your hand, only known by his hawk-eyed best friends but no one else in the restaurant around you. You allowed it. 

The two of you acted so unexplainably platonic otherwise that George and Alex were racking their brains trying to figure out if you were even into each other or you had been pulling their legs the entire time. Even as goodbye hugs were shared at the end of lunch and you and Lando barely exchanged more than a three-second embrace with no drifting hands or sloppy kiss with it, George and Alex were utterly perplexed. 

When the three guys waved you off as you drove away from the curb in your shiny car, George and Alex were turning to Lando, waiting for answers. 

Lando was too apparently as he asked them excitedly, “Well? What did you think? Isn’t she amazing?”

“I mean, yeah, she’s awesome.” Alex agreed, “But, fuck, bro, I’m more affectionate with my sister.”

George nodded in easy agreement, “Yeah, I was ready for some serious PDA the way you talk about her.”

Lando just rolled his eyes, “My God…what’d you think was going to happen? We start sucking face at the table?”

“Maybe.” George and Alex both answered in unison. 

Lando scoffed despite his smile. 

Alex countered quickly, “You talk like you can’t keep your hands off each other.”

George repeated Lando’s confession from the previous day, “Fucking, like, five times a week.”

“And then you barely touch her! Not even a kiss goodbye!” Alex finished, gesturing towards the street that you had disappeared down. 

“Guys,” Lando stopped them calmly, “seriously, I want to literally jump her every second of every day but we can’t. Her job is so public and even everyone at the office apart from her three best friends don’t know about our…relationship…thing.” 

“Can’t she just tell the public that she’s dating you?” Alex crossed his arms over his chest almost defensively. 

“I dunno if we ever are dating.” Lando shrugged. 

“Based on the way she was looking at you?” George scoffed, “She definitely at least wants it.” 

“She has a boyfriend.” Lando reminded them.

“A fake one.” Alex countered. 

“The public doesn’t know that.”

“So tell them.”

“We can’t. It’s in her contract.” Lando pressed. “Believe me, I’ve asked many times. You know I can’t fucking stand that guy. But she insists that she’s not with him and that it’s just PR and I believe her…it just doesn’t make it easy. It’s nearly fucking impossible to not kiss her every second I see her.”

“Personally, I’m not going to believe you until I see you two kiss with my own eyes.” George shrugged. 

“Okay. Then you might be waiting a while.” Lando chuckled as they started to walk back down the street towards Casino Square and the rest of their touristy afternoon together. 

It wasn’t until Monday that Lando was going to see you again when you were scheduled to pick him up at the hotel like usual to bring him to work. Although he had the week off, you both thought it would be fun for George and Alex to see the office and to meet your friends, especially since Lily - your illustrator - had taken a liking to Alex through social media. Maybe you couldn’t be publicly romantic together but it wouldn’t stop you and Lando from being undercover matchmakers when you could. 

At 8:30 Monday morning, the guys emerged from the hotel lobby to find your Mercedes parked out front waiting for them. George nearly had a skip in his step as he followed closely behind Lando towards the car and when he opened the back door, he sent a disbelieving grin back to Alex. Lando took to the passenger seat - of course - and you greeted him with a brief over-the-console one armed hug like every morning. George and Alex were tucked in the backseat and George was peering around the sleek black interior of your car with his mouth nearly hanging open like a kid in a candy store. Alex gently nudged his jaw shut. 

“Morning, boys.” you greeted them with a smile through the rearview mirror. 

They replied just as warmly and politely as you pulled away from the curb, letting your engine pull you towards the road with such pep that George was beaming and grabbing onto the window ledge of the backseat. Alex rolled his eyes at his dramatics. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out today?” Lando asked you. 

“Nope. You three are visitors only today.” you assured him, “You’re there for a tour and then you’re gone. No way I want you to be doing boring work on the week you guys have finally met.” 

“We’re the office VIPs.” Alex grinned. 

“Pretty much.” you chuckled, guiding your little group through the lanes of early morning downtown Monaco traffic. “Although this is a one time thing and I twisted a lot of arms to allow you guys to pop by so just try not to be too too distracting, okay?”

Alex spoke up jokingly from the seat behind you, “Yes, mom.”

Lando turned over his shoulder to send Alex a weird glare all while you just laughed. George and Alex snickered. 

Just like you had when Lando had first stepped foot in your office, he now accompanied you on showing around George and Alex. The four of you walked the lap of the office from meeting rooms to the lunchroom and the printing room and everything in between and all the while, Lando was just smiling proudly at you. He kept glancing at his best friends just to make sure they were still listening as you explained everything you were proud of when it came to your little office sanctuary. Finally, you ended your walk at the main open space of the office where most of the employee’s desks were laid out. 

Lando flopped into his chair, “And this is my desk. Where the magic happens.”

George snorted, “Okay.” 

Although everyone was working diligently - most with headphones on - you pointed out each important person from your team, ending right down by the desks where you were closest to your office, introducing your three best friends; Oscar, Lily, and Charles. 

Oscar, who had been trained to nearly follow your every move, was already at your side once you approached the area and he held a few files in his hands, insisting that you prepare for your afternoon media interview. You spoke to him quietly for a second, leaving the guys to busy themselves. 

Both Charles and Lily were at their respective desks with their headphones on and their minds busy with their work. George was sitting on the side of Lando’s desk and staring at everything he could possibly stare at, just taking it all in.

Alex, on the other hand, was pacing slowly, skimming the busy office and the dedicated workers that took it up. Lily’s desk was somewhat close to Lando’s and, being the next person nearby, he approached her quietly with his hands behind his back. She was clicking and typing away on her laptop as she edited one of her mockups; she knew your taste well after so long of working together. Alex watched from over her shoulder for a few seconds, going unnoticed by her, and when his gaze shifted from her screen, he scanned her desk. It was busy with some of the work she needed to have on hand but still quite organized and a few trinkets littered the corner. 

He smiled at the sight of the little golfer figurine and he stepped closer casually to poke its bobblehead, making the head with the visor sway to and fro. The sudden close presence had Lily startling out of her zone and she literally jumped at the movement of his hand into her space. 

“Sorry!” Alex took his hand back quickly. 

She pulled off her headphones and turned to him, “What are-”

Her words halted. 

“Sorry.” Alex repeated. He cleared his throat and then gestured to the golfer again, “Just liked your little dude there.” 

Lily followed his point to the bobblehead and then she looked back up at him, “I…thanks.” 

He glanced over his shoulder towards Lando and George who were watching him casually and he turned back to her, “I’m just here with Lando…he’s my best friend.”

Lily nodded with a small smile, “I know.” 

“Right.” Alex chuckled. “Of course you know.” 

There was a pause. 

Lily looked back to her golfer bobblehead that had been gifted to her by yourself on her one year anniversary of working with you. She directed a casual question to the handsome young man who had somehow helped himself to her desk, “So you like golf?”

“Yeah.” Alex answered easily, “But I’m so shit.” 

The shared light laughter. 

“That’s so cool.” Lily replied, “I love it too. Have you given the Monaco course a try?”

“No, not that I could even afford a round.” Alex snorted, suddenly realizing how uncool he sounded. 

Lily offered him a sweet smile and a little shrug, “I mean, you can always come with me sometime. I have a membership.”

Alex gaped, “Really?”

“Yeah, definitely! I’m in desperate need of a golfing partner. None of my friends ever want to come.”

“Seriously. I’m so down.” Alex offered honestly.

“Alright then.” Lily shared in his grin. 

“Lily!” 

Your call from a few metres away had them both looking over at you as if they had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. Their shocked expressions had you peaking a brow.

“Was gonna ask if you wanted lunch? Oscar’s gonna order something.” 

Lily nodded, “Yeah. Sounds good.” 

“And our guests have to get going…I have to prep for that Zoom later.” 

Alex quickly shoved his phone at Lily, “Can I have your Instagram or something? We can keep discussing this later if you want?”

She laughed lightly, “We already follow each other.”

“Oh.” Alex could have mentally punched himself in the face, “Right! Yes, I knew that. Sorry.”

She simply giggled and set her gentle hand on his forearm as if to reassure him with a soft, “I’ll message you.”

“Yeah. See ya.” Alex took a step back, “And sorry again for scaring you.” 

“That’s okay.” she smiled bashfully and turned back her laptop. 

Lando, George, and you were already heading for the elevator and he followed after you quickly with a beaming smile across his face, sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

“Was wondering how quickly you and Lily were going to find each other.” you chuckled knowingly as your little group waited for the elevator to arrive. 

Alex just licked away his smile and took one last glance over his shoulder towards the row of desks across the office. George nudged him as the elevator doors slid open. 

Stepping inside, the four of you had a moment away from the looming public and Lando slid his hand into yours easily as if the four walls of the office elevator had already seen enough of your secrecy before. You smiled over at him, letting the presence of his two best friends on his other side fade away as they fell into quiet discussion over two of your friends. 

“You have a good week, okay?” you told Lando gently, “Enjoy not having to work. I’m jealous.” 

“But does this mean I won’t see you all week?” he pouted slightly, keeping his gaze on your face. 

“You can see me whenever you want…but I want you to enjoy yourself with your friends too.” you replied, reaching over to rest your hand against his chest. “Okay?”

Lando nodded, speaking quietly to your lips, “I know. Thank you.” 

“You’re so welcome.” you smiled. 

He leaned in towards you naturally and your hand slid up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck as you met each other halfway for a soft kiss. Lips locked softly, you both lingered there for a moment as the elevator beeped past floor after floor. Only a few seconds later, you were moving back for a lick to your lips and the gentle sound of your kiss had Alex and George whipping their heads around to look, their conversation immediately dropped. 

Lando could feel their eyes on the back of his head and he smiled proudly as he leaned back in towards you and captured your lips with his own. Sharing a few more gentle kisses, you were soon leading him away by your hand back against his chest and you grinned to the elevator screen as the ground floor approached. Lando leaned in once more to kiss your cheek and then you had to let go of each other’s hands to face the public reality once more. 

George and Alex were deer in headlights next to the pair of you, startled by the sudden display of affection you shared and the fact that you had shared it literally right beside them. Meanwhile, Lando was walking on air and as you said your goodbyes and they headed for the bus stop, he was literally radiating. 

Once you were out of earshot, his best friends nearly jumped on him, tugging at his shirt and cheering dramatically for such an innocent kiss. Lando wasn’t totally sure what the big deal was - you had done plenty more than that - but he basked in the attention with pride over the fact that he had you and his best friends held the proof. 

Monday moulded quickly into Tuesday, the days speeding by with trips all over the Principality and the South of France. As Tuesday ended with a tennis match for the guys and an Uber back to the hotel from the game after a long day, Lando found himself missing you more and more. Laying alone in his hotel room bed, he added up the days it had been since he had been able to fall asleep with you and he dramatically came to the conclusion that he hadn’t gone that long without you sleeping beside him since before he came to Monaco. He didn’t necessarily appreciate that discovery. 

So, to take matters into his own hands, he let his friends keep themselves busy on Wednesday morning as he insisted that he visit the office for lunch. Alex and George didn’t put up much of an argument and they made a plan to meet Lando after at a location to be determined. 

Under the sunny Monte Carlo sky, Lando took the bus farther into downtown to locate the street where the office building was located and he got off a bit early in order to make a pitstop on his way. He first stopped by a florist that housed the most vibrant arrangements of flowers along the sidewalk with chalkboard signs and billowing awnings that reminded him of France and he took his time walking along the rows of water filled pots to find the perfect little bouquet. 

With a bunch of pink peonies in hand and wrapped prettily in paper and cellophane, Lando continued a few stores down to a small bistro. He ordered your favourite pasta that you would always get when you went there - he always paid attention to every little thing about you…you were his dream girl after all and he would take any and every chance to impress you - and then he skimmed their wine list. 

“Anything of interest, sir?” the waiter asked when he returned from punching in the pasta order. 

Lando, who had virtually no experience in ordering wine, hesitated, “Uhm…I want something red.”

“Aged?”

Lando bit his lip, “Yes…old?”

The waiter smiled knowingly at the inexperience of his customer and leaned over the counter to look at the drink menu with him, “Our house wine is good to start off with.”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” Lando said, deciding to chance his invisibility in public without you at his side and therefore not being associated with him, “It’s for my girlfriend.” 

The word tasted too good on his tongue and he looked back down at the menu to hide the rouge that dusted his cheeks, a red that burned as deep as the wine he was ordering. 

“I see. She enjoys red?” the waiter asked. 

“Prefers it.” Lando nodded. 

“Then how about our Cabernet Sauvignon? Grown just outside Nice in local vineyards. Aged to perfection.”

Lando shrugged, convinced, “Sure. If that’s what you think is best.”

So he ended up with a bag of take out pasta, a bottle of red, and a bouquet of flowers in his arms as he took the elevator in the office up to the familiar floor. Maybe it looked suspicious that he was bringing you lunch when he had a week off but he missed you too much and he was willing to risk it for a romantic gesture as such. It had him brushing off the slightly confused smile in greeting from the secretary as he walked past and towards your office. He stopped outside the glass wall and peeked inside, only to find your desk empty.

“Lando.” 

The sharp whisper had him turning around to see Oscar hurrying over to him. A few of the other employees were glancing at him from their desks, probably just as confused over his appearance with a strange combination of items. 

“Hey, Osc.” Lando smiled coolly.

Oscar grabbed his arm and yanked him into your empty office, shutting the glass door behind the two of them.

“What are you doing here?” he spoke quietly but sternly, eyeing the items he was carrying. 

“I brought her lunch.” Lando answered softly, “And flowers. Because I missed her.” 

Oscar glanced back out to the office, his arms folded over her chest. 

Lando followed his gaze, “Where is she?” 

They looked back at each other. 

“She’s in a meeting.” Oscar answered. 

“Okay. I can wait.” 

“That’s not a good idea. Not with all this.” he gestured to the flowers, “What were you thinking? What kind of message does this send?”

Lando pouted, “A nice one?”

Oscar sighed, “Yes, it’s nice but not for the office. This is so risky. Especially today.”

“Why especially today?” Lando frowned. 

His obvious pout had Oscar pausing, staring at the sweet blush on his cheeks and the pleading look in his green eyes, his arms full of caring gifts for Oscar’s best friend. Oscar huffed and dropped his arms into a shrug. 

“It’s not my place.” he admitted in half defeat, “You’re right, it’s a nice gift.” 

“I just wanted to bring her lunch.” Lando mumbled. 

“I know. That was nice of you.” 

“I won’t get in the way.”

“I know.” 

“Is the meeting almost done?”

Oscar glanced back at the analog clock on the wall above your desk and then answered him, “Momentarily probably.” 

“Can I wait here?”

“Sure, but I have to tell her that you’re here.”

“That’s fine.”

Oscar brushed past him and he turned to watch him go, only finding the reason behind his slight panic the moment his eyes caught sight of the subject oncoming down the hall. Lando had to grip tighter onto the items in his arms as the slender brunette figure walking at your side had a fictitious knife jamming itself right into Lando’s heart. 

He had only ever seen pictures of your PR boyfriend, suffered through months and months of watching through social media and news coverages of your dates, your sickening comments on each other’s posts, and everything in between that made him feel his lunch in the back of his throat. Now he knew it was all a facade now but the mere sight of him had Lando’s fight or flight triggering. 

Oscar couldn’t get a single word out before you had already spotted Lando through the glass wall of your office. He had never seen your face fall at the sight of him before that moment. He swallowed. The man at your side locked eyes with him. 

Lando turned away from the hallway as he took a deep trembling breath, “Shit.”

The office door opened and in you came. Lando glanced back to the hallway and Oscar could barely send him a pitied glance, Charles with wide eyes beside him, staring back at him, before you were in his line of vision. 

“Who’s this?” the brunette asked, standing almost protectively right at your side, his words laced in a pristine French accent. Lando could have vomited on his brown designer boots. 

“Oh…this is Lando,” you introduced as calmly, coolly, as you could. “My intern.” 

The fictitious knife twisted in Lando’s chest. 

You unknowingly dug it deeper as you gave skewed context to the man beside you, “Y’know…the fan I flew out for the summer?”

“Ah, that’s right.” he snapped his fingers as if it all came back to him. He then held out his hand to Lando with an honest smile, “Nice to meet you. I’m Pierre. I’m her boyfriend.”

“Yeah.” Lando exhaled shakily but he didn’t have a hand free to take his. The cellophane that the flowers were wrapped in crinkled under Lando’s white knuckled grip. 

You spoke to him plainly, “What are you doing here? Isn’t it your day off?” 

Lando’s eyes searched yours. He wasn’t prepared for this…what it all meant…what he was allowed to say. 

“I…just picked you up lunch.” Lando tried. 

“Right.” you played it off expertly, shooting a smile to the slender Frenchman at your side, “I forgot I had sent for it.”

Lando pulled a tight smile as you took the take out bag and the wine from him. 

“Thank you.” you said, drifting past him to set them on your desk. 

Pierre gestured to the flowers that Lando still held, “The flowers?”

“I asked.” you grabbed them right out of Lando’s hand and barely gave him a second look, your own heart hammering in your chest, as you hurried back across your spacious office to set the bouquet in the empty vase on the table by the window, “Just kinda…brightens up the place.”

“They’re nice.” your boyfriend smiled and nodded. 

“Yeah.” you turned back to Lando, “Thanks.”

Lando’s voice wavered as he answered, “You’re welcome.”

“Anything else?” you asked him, although your eyes nearly begged him to leave. 

Pierre drifted over to you again and draped his arm around your back. 

Lando swallowed back the lump in his throat and he took a step back, “Nope.” 

“Okay. See ya.” you said. 

“Yep.” Lando nearly walked right into the glass wall before his shaking hand found the door handle. He yanked it open and hurried out into the main office space, sniffling casually as his hands jammed into his pockets and he bit his lip so hard it hurt. Lily, Charles, and Oscar watched from their desks as he hightailed it towards the elevator.

But, as your door closed slowly behind him, he caught your boyfriend speaking to you softly, “It’s cute…you can tell he’s a fan; his voice shakes when he talks to you.”

Lando didn’t wait around long enough to hear your response. 

It wasn’t until Lando reached his hotel room that the reality of the situation settled in and - just his luck - his best friends weren’t there. Struggling to keep his breathing controlled as his eyes burned with tears, he pulled out his phone as he started to pace up and down the length of the carpeted room. The fact that he had no message from you only made him more upset and he opened the group chat with his friends. 

landonorris: Where r u georgerussell63: We’re eating lunch at this place a few streets down from the hotel georgerussell63: You’re done already?? landonorris: No landonorris: It went really shitty landonorris: Are you almost done landonorris: Can you come back georgerussell63: I mean our food JUST got here…do you wanna meet us here? Tell us about what happened and maybe eat? landonorris: No I can’t  landonorris: I’m losing my shit rn I can’t be in public  georgerussell63: Fuck mate that bad?? georgerussell63: Wtf happened?? alex_albon: George is a horrible texter when he’s speaking for the both of us alex_albon: We’re coming Lan just hold tight a few minutes landonorris: k

Lando sat himself down on the end of his bed and exited the group chat, being faced with some fan account’s repost of Pierre’s story. It was a picture of you - of course - as you ate your pasta at your desk with the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers just barely visible in the side of the frame. The caption on the repost was something from the fan expressing her excitement over how ‘cute’ you were and how ‘perfect’ he was for bringing you lunch and flowers. Lando wanted to throw up. 

He opened up his message thread with you, ready to send you some angry note but his thumbs hovered over the keyboard without pressing a button. The last messages stared back at him; your exchange of hearts and kissy emojis and Lando had to rub his hand over his chest from the ache in his heart that lingered. 

The sound of the hotel room door opening startled him - not having expected his friends so soon - but Lando jumped up from his bed to meet them, his face a mix of emotional and pathetic expression. George and Alex were just as wide eyed and not knowing what they were going to be walking into, take-out bags in hand. Lando’s bottom lip trembled over the fact that his friends skipped their lunch for him and the emotions that overtook him from the last hour and he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes to try not cry in front of them. 

“Fuck.” he said through his teeth. 

“Shit, mate, what the fuck happened?” Alex set his takeout bag on the counter and George did the same, the two older friends hurrying over to tend to the obviously distraught youngest. 

“He was there!” Lando said loudly, dropping his hands. He had to explain but your boyfriend’s name always tasted bitter on his tongue so he settled for the codename that he and his two best friends had made back when your relationship went public, “Fuckin’…guillotine.”

George and Alex’s eyes only widened more. 

“Oh-“ Alex stumbled out. 

“Did he say something?” George pried. 

“H-He was nice but he clearly doesn’t know who I am and she didn’t bother telling him!” Lando continued loudly, “I brought her her favourite lunch and favourite flowers and even a bottle of red wine and she…she played it like she had told me to pick it up for her. She introduced me as her intern. As the fan.”

“I mean…was the entire workplace listening?” George offered an excuse. 

“No!” Lando answered, “It was just the three of us in her office and he was just…he was looking at me! I wanted to punch him in the face! Putting his arm around her…talking to me like I’m a kid! ‘Oh he’s definitely a fan…how cute’. Shut the fuck up. I’d like to hear him try and call me cute again after he finds out the way I fuck her.” 

George and Alex smothered their shocked laughter over Lando’s quick snap back. 

Alex spoke first, “She was probably just surprised that you were there and didn’t know what to do.”

Lando only continued in his emotional tangent, “If their relationship is fake then why does she have to hide it from him? Not like she’s cheating. He’s not the public. What’s it to him?” 

“That’s valid.” George agreed. 

Alex nodded. 

“And!” Lando wasn’t done, “He posted a picture of her eating the lunch that I bought her! Now all the fans are taking it out of context because they don’t know and thinking he bought her all that. ‘What a great boyfriend!’”

His voice broke at the end as he struggled to hold back his tears. George and Alex exchanged nervous glances while Lando waited for their life-changing words of wisdom. 

George sighed, “Jesus, Lan, we hate seeing you like this. We’ve always been a little apprehensive that you’d get hurt through all this and, well, here it is.”

“It’s always good.” Lando assured them easily with a sniffle, “It’s just…not good today.” 

“It’s part of that Monaco life, huh?” Alex pressed, “Like you have always said. It’s fucked up but it’s all just part of this balancing act?”

Lando nodded, “Yeah. It’s so fucking hard to stay afloat.”

“She’ll message you soon to clear today up…I’m sure of it.” George assured him with a gentle pat to his shoulder, “When she does, tell her how it felt today…being a little trapped like that. She’ll understand, I’m sure. Just give her the evening. We can tell she’s super into you so try not to get too in your head about it.”

Alex concluded easily, “And try not to read shit online. People are dumb.”

“Yeah.” Lando rubbed his hands across his in exasperation. 

George stepped closer to pull him into a hug first and Alex quickly joined, the three of them lingering in a group hug for a moment. Lando let out a heavy breath as he found his momentary comfort in the presence of his friends that had once only been able to reassure him with online messages. But now, sharing a hotel room together in Monaco, the three best friends sat down to divide up the two take out bags of lunch just to make sure that Lando had something to eat too. 

Lando didn’t hear from you all afternoon…all evening…and even well into the following morning. Sitting by the hotel pool that Thursday afternoon, Lando was simmering in his constant state of stress with his phone resting impatiently, screen up, on his thigh. His notebook was open on his lap and he was scribbling notes down in messy lines across the pages as a way to let his anxieties out rather than the less than ideal alternative of sending you emotional paragraphs in your dms. It had been all too long since you had messaged him and not only was he missing you but he was upset with you all in the same. 

On the lounge chair on his right, Alex was bragging to the other two about his nearly daily messages with Lily where they filled the times discussing travel, their families, and their shared appreciation for golf. Lando tried not to be envious - what was there to even be envious of, he would silently tell himself, he was the one who had his girl in bed after all - but the green eyed monster wasn’t kind. Even right there, lounging by the pool, Alex’s shared stories were interrupted a few times by a ding on his phone to which he would make a point to pause his entire train of thought to answer Lily’s message. If it was any other time, Lando would have been elated for his best friend. Because it was right then, he was sure that if he rolled his eyes any farther back he would see his brain. 

“Anyway, where was I?” Alex put his phone down again and tucked his hands behind his head as he stared up to the Mediterranean sun with a smile, “Ah, yes. Lily was saying that she wants to take me to the Golf Club before I leave. She said it’s the most famous one in Monaco…views of the ocean. We might make a day out of it…if she was serious. Maybe she was just being hypothetically nice. Shit, do you think she was just being hypothetical?”

“No way!” George answered easily from Alex’s other side, scrolling aimlessly through his phone although he was still completely listening. He glanced over, “You gotta hold her to that, mate.” 

“I know, I know.” Alex agreed. “We only have a few days left…maybe I should make a plan for tomorrow. Were we going to do anything tomorrow?”

George shrugged, “Nothing specific.”

Lando answered from Alex’s other side, “Just hating my life.” 

Alex reached over and snatched the notebook out of Lando's hand, “What are you even writing in here?”

“Mate.” Lando huffed and tried to grab for it but Alex held it out of his reach as he skimmed the lines. 

“What is this? A poem?” Alex flipped the page. 

“Maybe. I dunno. I’m just scribbling random shit.” Lando mumbled, twirling his pen between his fingers anxiously as his private words were read by the eyes of his best friend. 

“It’s really good.” Alex told him. “You always tend to do your best work when you’re emo.” 

“Yeah, well…” Lando faded out as his notebook was passed back to him. He skimmed a few of his own lines before taking his pen and scratched out a large chunk. 

“Hey!” Alex frowned, reaching over to smack his arm, “What are you scratching out?”

“It’s shit.” 

“It is not.” 

Lando slouched farther back against his lounge chair and continued writing without another word. Alex sighed and picked up his phone from his lap again to answer his messages from Lily that he had missed while reading Lando’s notebook. As he typed his response with a smile, a notification popped down from the top of his screen. 

georgerussell63 sent a post

Glancing to his right in slight confusion, George was already staring right back at him, his expression flat. Alex tapped the notification to open his private chat with George to see what he had sent in such secrecy. The post that was revealed had his eyes going wide. 

alex_albon: Oh fuck georgerussell63: Right?? georgerussell63: Wtf do we do alex_albon: We need to tell him georgerussell63: Do we? He’s already so down after yesterday. This will just make it worse alex_albon: Yeah but he’s going to find out somehow regardless. Better he hears it from us georgerussell63: True…

In unison, both George and Alex looked over at Lando on their far left. Sensing their sudden stares, he looked back at them. Glancing between them, Lando frowned in confusion. 

“What?” 

“We’re gonna show you something and you’re going to hate it.” Alex warned. 

Lando’s face fell, “What? Then…don’t show me.”

“We have to because it’s going to be everywhere in a bit and we need to rip off the bandaid.”

Lando nibbled at his bottom lip, “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“What is it?” Lando’s voice was wavering already. 

Alex passed over his phone. 

Lando took it cautiously and glanced at the Instagram post that was on the screen. Posted by paparazzi was last night’s footage of you and your boyfriend walking hand in hand to a date venue. Lando scrolled to the next slide and the next, witnessing photograph after photograph of you in a short black dress being touched and swooned over and kissed by this man. Lando zoomed in on the last picture, right up close, so he could stare at the way you were leaning into him with your smiling lips pressed to his and an expensive glass of red wine in your hand. 

Lando had spent all night virtually waiting by the phone for you to call and you weren’t even thinking of him. You were busy getting dressed up and going out with your fake boyfriend; not a care in the world to the way you hurt him that very same day. He never once received a message from you or a warning or any sort of reassurance that it was nothing. 

Lando gave Alex his phone back, letting it go before wiping his hands on his towel beneath him like the news was physically disgusting. He closed his notebook. His two best friends watched him carefully, worriedly. 

“What are you thinking, mate?” George asked. 

Lando didn’t answer as he took a second to stare across the glimmering pool into space, trying to collect his whirling thoughts enough to make a cohesive sentence. 

“Lan?” Alex pressed. 

Lando took a breath and then grabbed his notebook and pen and phone, “I gotta go.”

“Where?” Alex started to get up too. 

“Not you.” Lando stopped them both quickly as he stood up. “Just me. I just…need a fucking second.”

“Are you sure?” George asked. 

“You don’t have to be alone right now.” Alex added. 

“Yeah.” Lando barely offered them a response before he was walking off down the side of the pool area and back into the hotel. 

Alex and George watched him go. 

Lando was burning with heartbroken anger as he approached the elevators and pressed the call button a few times in impatient desperation. He didn’t feel like crying over it anymore - he was so numb to the sight of you with Pierre over the prior year - but now that everything was made more complicated by your situation-ship, Lando was just angry. Hurt and angry made for a cruel emotion stewing in his chest. 

Up in the hotel room, Lando was muttering unpleasantries to himself as he dressed into street clothes, leaving his phone on his bed as he did so. The screen lit up with a response from Oscar to the message he sent on his way up in the elevator, 

-She’s working late at the office tonight. Why do you need to know?

Lando didn’t bother replying as he snatched his phone from the bed, his wallet from the dresser, and was out the door in a flash. 

The late afternoon welcomed Lando out onto the street and he took the usual bus route farther into downtown, leaving his clueless best friends behind without a word of warning. His heart was absolutely hammering in his chest despite the fact that he had no plan ahead of him. Running on emotion was a dangerous thing to do but he needed to do it. He had only spent the last few years chasing you and he wasn’t going to let one useless, irrelevant guy get in the way of that. 

It was past 5:00 when Lando arrived at the office building and it was perfectly silent on the floor when the elevator doors slid open. The reception desk was empty and the logo on the wall behind the desk was dark and Lando hurried right past it and into the just as quiet office that was laid out behind it. 

The only light that was on - countering the fading light from the horizon outside - was the one in your glass framed office. It felt surreal as Lando made his emotional run to you without the slightest clue what he was going to say to you or expect of you once there. Regardless, he stopped right outside your office and took a second to stare at you as you sat at your desk, typing away at your laptop without a care in the world. You were wearing your usual work attire of a skirt and blouse and your hair was free flowing over your shoulders, still hanging onto the shape of the curls that you had styled last night for your date. The pink peonies sat on the corner of the desk across from you. 

Lando pushed open the glass door and helped himself to the room, startling you slightly from your silent writing bubble you had placed yourself in. You looked across your spacious office to where he stood in the doorway. 

“Lando…” you breathed in surprise. “What are you-“

He wasn’t willing to let you speak first. He wasn’t willing to give you the upper hand that you always had on him since the very start. 

“Don’t.” he snapped. “Don’t act surprised because I know you’re not that fucking dumb.”

You shut your mouth in utter surprise over his sudden out of character hostility towards you without even so much as a hello. 

“I know that this,” he gestured between the two of you as he took a step farther into your office, “is really confusing and unlabeled and made so much more difficult because of your work and I get that - I really do - but I am also not a fucking emotionless rug you can walk all over and expect nothing to come of it.” 

“Lando-“ you tried. 

He kept going, his words obviously emotional, and his expression screwed up in an angry mix of sadness and frustration, “We never spoke about what we are and maybe that was stupid but in case you didn’t know, I really fucking like you. My entire goddamn life revolves around you. I uprooted my entire summer to come out here not just to help your team but to be with you because I care about you and I want to spend every second of every day with you because I like you more than you clearly know. You took my fucking virginity for God’s sake, how do you expect me to act after that?”

You sighed softly and closed your laptop, “Lan-“

He cut you off again, “So sorry if I’m not another emotionless shell like everyone else in this stupid fucking city but I thought you’d at least have the decency to tell me when shit was going down. Like, I dunno, when he showed up?”

“Pierre?” you questioned. 

His name made Lando literally flinch. 

“You know he’s just a PR stunt. It’s not real-“

Lando jumped in easily, speaking loudly through your office, “Then why did you introduce me as your intern? Just some stupid fan? If he’s that meaningless then why can’t you tell him about us? Or do you have something you want to tell me?”

You stood up from your desk, “I don’t have anything to tell you. You know more than a lot of people already.”

“Maybe so but you don’t care! Because if you cared you would have told me that he was going to be here! Or that you were going out last night! Instead I had to find out on Instagram about your date night and see pictures of you touching him and kissing him like you’re supposed to be touching and kissing me.”

“It’s for promotion, Lando, I promise you-“

“I don’t give a shit!” Lando shouted. 

It was the first time you had heard him yell and it startled you into wide eyed silence. As he took a step towards you again, you could see the way his eyes nearly shimmered with tears but he kept them back almost expertly. 

“I don’t give a shit what it’s for and who tells you to do it! I deserve to know!”

“Why?” you pushed back. 

“Because you’re mine and I hate this!” Lando yelled. 

“Oh, I’m yours?” you pressed. 

“Yes!” Lando was right on the other side of the desk from you, pressing his finger to his chest purposefully as he spoke directly to you, “You’re mine. You are literally part of my heart and I deserve to know when things happen in your life…things that affect me!”

You leaned your hands on the glass desk in front of you and his eyes dropped to the open neck of your blouse for a split second before meeting your gaze again as you countered him expertly, “What happens in my business world is honestly none of your concern.” 

“Didn’t know being a slut for paparazzi cameras was such an important part of your sales.”

You stood back up straight and crossed your arms over your chest with a rush of rouge to your cheeks so you could only stumble out a, “Oh fuck you.” 

“Fuck you.” he snapped right back, turning his index finger towards you next, “Don’t even try to paint me as the bad guy here.”

“You called me a slut!” 

“Fine! Not like it bothered you before but then pick a better word!” Lando threw his hands up, only growing in volume with each second and each slow taunting step he took around your desk towards you, “What were you being, huh? Selfish? Ignorant? A stupid bitch who likes flaunting her money and her body around this fucked up city for any sliver of male attention because apparently having a genuine every-day guy from the middle class is too goddamn boring for you.” 

“Who the fuck are you right now?” you snapped back, “Because there is no way in hell that you are the same guy from that book signing…the one who brought me flowers-“

“Oh so you finally acknowledge that the flowers were from me! Nice!” Lando checked his imaginary watch, “Only took you almost two fucking days.” 

You let out a scoff in exasperation. 

“Sorry that I’m being a bit intense right now but I’m not going to apologize for being hurt.” Lando continued. “Because I’ve been sitting in my hotel room nearly crying since you completely blindsided me yesterday-“

“I blindsided you?” you gaped. “You came storming in here with a romantic lunch for two like it's our goddamn honeymoon while knowing full well that no one can know about us!”

“What about Pierre? Why can’t he know about us? Are you still involved with him? Are you still sleeping with him and that’s why you couldn’t tell him the truth?”

“Listen to yourself!” you shouted at him desperately, “You’ve gone fucking insane! I’m not sleeping with Pierre! I don’t lie to you! I didn’t feel comfortable telling him everything right there because if you weren’t aware, my entire fucking staff was sitting there with only a piece of glass between us! Get a hold of yourself!”

“Hard to believe when you were sucking face on your date later that night!”

“It’s our job, Lando! Fuck!” you raked your hands through your hair in exasperation, “It was a complete set up! We anonymously tipped the paparazzi to be there and everything for the publicity! We had to play the part! It wasn’t more than a few kisses, a few drinks over dinner, and meaningless hand holding to and from the car. I certainly didn’t enjoy it!”

“A text wouldn’t have been too much to ask!”

You slammed your hand down against your desk with frustration, telling him sternly right to his face as he stood only a foot or two to your right, “If you can’t handle the responsibilities that come with my job then maybe this position isn’t right for you.”

“I’m not here for the job!” Lando answered loudly. 

You responded quickly with a step closer, matching his volume perfectly with your upset expression staring right into his, “Then maybe being with me isn’t right for you!” 

Lando’s hand was on the back of your neck before you could even flinch and he yanked your mouth to his effortlessly. Your lips met a little off centre and you stumbled a bit closer to him as he forced you into a kiss. Almost nervous to touch him, your hands hesitated in midair between you for a beat as your lips locked with his in fiery passion that burned your skin. 

The heat from your intense argument had his heart racing in his chest, thudding against his ribs, and his clothes felt suffocating. He was desperate for air - a release that only you could give him - and your empty threats just made him crazy for more. 

Lando’s hand slid around from the back of your neck to grab you by the throat, guiding you through your shared open mouthed kisses in your silent vacant office. Both breathing heavily from your borderline screaming match only seconds before, the silence rang in your ears and your fingers dusted over the front of his t-shirt, still hesitant to touch him. But Lando just tugged you closer by your throat, taken over by some other force that pulled him out of his shy spell, and his sudden dominance was making you weak at the knees. 

You moaned softly as he guided you back against your desk and your ass hit the edge, your hands falling blindly onto the tabletop behind you, lips still taken by his. 

With a strong bite to your bottom lip, Lando was pulling away from your kiss and his hand around your throat kept your gaze on his as he spoke lowly to you, “Don’t you ever say that to me again. Being with you is and always has been my life’s entire goal.”

You stared at each other for a moment and as the honesty of his words settled in, you reached up to the back of his neck and pulled his lips to yours once more. Lando took a step closer to you, trapping you back against your desk as your arms slung around his shoulders and your body moulded against his. His cautious hands found the dip of your waist and he held you securely as he leaned farther into you, almost bending you backwards slightly as his lips locked with yours. 

The heat of your argument was still lingering in the colour on your cheeks and the sudden flip from anger into passion had your heart thudding in your ears. Your ten fingers pressed into the back of his neck, holding his mouth on yours through desperate emotional kisses that left you dizzy. When you tilted your head to kiss him deeper, Lando’s hand slid back up to your throat and he eased you away with one more nip to your bottom lip. 

“On your knees.” he ordered lowly. 

You had to physically bite your lip to hide the smile that threatened to come to your face at his growing dominance and he stepped away from you just enough to allow you to sink to your knees in front of him. Right away, you were pushing up the bottom of his shirt and popping the button on his pants and tugging down the zipper. 

“Fuck.” Lando breathed in near shock, trying his damndest to keep his composure, knowing he had the upper hand there. He grabbed your wrists to stop you before you could strip him down and you peered up at his face expectantly, the sweetest expression on your face that for a second he forgot why he was so mad at you. But he recovered quickly, “Who’s the only one you're getting on your knees for?”

“You, sir.” you responded easily. 

“Yeah?” Lando let go of one of your wrists so he could push his thumb past your painted lips. “Why’s that?” 

You hummed softly around his thumb, sucking gently as you stared up at him from your spot on your ground. You let him pull it from your mouth with a wet pop so you could answer him, “Because I’m yours. Only yours.” 

He almost believed you just by the look in your eyes. 

The concept of you submitting to him was invigorating and he shuffled down his pants and boxers to his knees and then slid his hand into the back of your hair to pull you closer impatiently. Your hands rested against his bare thighs and your mouth opened gladly, letting him guide his semi-hard dick in against your waiting tongue. You wrapped your lips around him and suckled softly around the head of his cock, humming at the feeling of him growing harder in your mouth with each passing second. 

Lando brushed your hair away from your face and over your shoulders, wrapping it messily around one hand so he could get a good look at you as he slowly eased you closer, his other hand holding up the bottom of his shirt. His dick disappeared into your mouth inch by inch and the warm wet confines that welcomed him in had his mouth falling open silently, burning with desire for you. You had a way of pushing his emotions to the edge time and time again; good and bad. He wanted all of you. 

“That’s it.” he breathed, pulling you deeper until your nose touched the warm smooth skin of his pelvis, “You wanna lie? Keep stupid little secrets from me? Should punish this mouth of yours.” 

You moaned around him, choking slightly as he stiffened completely by then and nudged at the back of your throat. He would never admit that he learned a lot from your novels - especially after hearing from you that you only wrote what you yourself were into - and only more so from firsthand experience in your bed. He only wanted to be good for you. And he wanted you to know just how much you meant to him. He only wanted you. 

On your knees for him, you held yourself steady by your hands on his thighs, starting to bob your head along the length of his dick until he was gripping tighter to your hair and starting to thrust into your mouth. Gagging loudly around him, you dug your nails down into his flesh but took what he gave you, letting him fuck your throat. You shamelessly had craved it since the first week you had met him, wanting him to get rough with you. There was no better time than that mid-argument make-up sex. 

You tapped out on his thigh, letting him know you needed air and he let you sit back for a second. You gasped out of it, watching how strings of spit connected your glistening lips to his swollen dick in front of your face. Blinking away tears that blurred your eyes, you looked up his body to the lustful expression on his face, shadowed by the dim lighting of your office and the sunset lights through the floor to ceiling windows only steps away. Lando set his hands flat on your glass desk, standing strongly in front of you. He impatiently dropped one hand back down to tangle in the back of your hair and pulled your mouth back down on his dick. 

“Fuck.” Lando hissed quietly, greedily starting to thrust into your mouth shallowly. 

The little gags that he fucked from your throat nearly made his eyes roll and he slammed his hand back down on your desk, leaving you to take what he gave you without guidance. You did, of course, holding onto his thighs with your manicured hands as he towered over your body and helped himself to your heavenly mouth and beautiful throat. 

He could have finished himself off right there, dizzy on the perfect sensations of your mouth and the lewd sounds of your throat constricting around him with each thrust he gave you. Standing behind your desk with a clear view of your pristine office surrounding him, Lando was sure it was a dream. It couldn’t get much better than that. Even as he slowed his hips down to a stop, you raised a hand up to keep yourself going instead, moving hand and mouth in quick steady time around his slick cock. 

Lando dropped his hand down to grab your hair and pull your mouth off him again, scolding down to you, “Did I say you could keep going?”

Your soft grip pumped his dick a few more times, coughing out a, “No.” 

“Guess you really are a cockslut, huh? Just fucking desperate for dick?”

“Oh my God.” you groaned at his words, “Yes.” 

Lando forcefully guided you to your feet by your hair, “Get up.” 

You grasped onto his shirt for balance, gasping against his kiss as he tugged your lips on his again. He was filthy with it - choking you with his tongue until you were arching into his body hungrily and your fingers were pulling at his shirt for more. Oh how he had learned so much over the summer so far…

Lando spun you around and shoved you forward against your desk and you caught yourself with your hands flat on the table top. He flipped up your skirt and slapped his whole palm down against your ass, forcing a sharp gasp from your chest as the sound echoed through your glass framed office. 

“Whose are you?” he asked. 

“Yours.” you breathed. 

He spanked you again, “What was that?”

“Yours, sir.” 

Another spank, “Are you?” 

You arched your back a little more so your ass was sticking out farther for him, “Oh my God, yes.” 

He groped the flesh of your ass in one hand and jiggled it, “Does anyone else get to touch you like this?” 

“No, sir.” you answered softly, licking away your eager smile. 

“Why’s that?” Lando slapped your ass again. 

“Oh, because I’m all yours.” you rushed out, pushing back against him desperately. 

Lando’s hands caressed your ass and your waist as you ground back against his body until his cock was pressed between your cheeks and against the thin lace of your skimpy little panties. 

“I’m your pretty little slut.” you promised. 

Your words and your insistent touch had him groaning lowly, his eyes focused down to your ass and he linked one finger around the lace of your panties and pulled them to the side, allowing himself room to teasingly angle the head of his cock between your cheeks. You shuttered at the feeling, hands flat on your desk and just waiting for him to take you, any hostility immediately vanished from your mind at that moment. 

“Please.” you breathed. 

Lando nudged the head of his cock against your pussy, smearing it between your slick folds, “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“I’m yours.” you answered easily. “Please, sir, I’m all yours.” 

Lando brought his hand up to lick across his three fingers so he could smear it between your legs to get you just a bit wetter. He then had to take a silent anticipatory breath before easing steadily inside you, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as your body gripped around him so tightly. Your stiff whimper at the stretch had his hand raising to wrap around your throat and his other grabbed a handful of the back of your skirt that was bunched up around your waist and he slipped deeper into you. 

“Holy shit.” you exhaled shakily, “You’re so fucking big-“

Lando didn’t bother giving you a second to adjust before he was starting to thrust into you, tightening his hand around your throat. Your tight whimper and the snug grip of your pussy had his jaw clenching and his rhythm growing faster. His hand smacked down hard across your ass, making you squeak. 

“You like this, don’t you? Dirty slut.” Lando growled from behind you, letting his lingering anger out on your welcoming body. 

“Yeah, I’m your dirty slut. Your dirty little fucking slut.” you cried out, trying to fuck yourself back on him.

He spanked you again to stop you and then took his hand from your throat to push you down by the back of your neck, forcing you to bend at the waist over your glass desk. His tight grunt as he sped up had your mouth dropping open, slouched forward onto your forearms on either side of your closed laptop and your body took his quick strokes as deep as he could reach. It just made it easier for his balls to clap wetly against your pussy, making you arch deeper for him until they were hitting your aching clit with each thrust. 

“F-Fuck-“ you choked out. 

His hand grabbed a fistful of your hair to tug your head back as he had his way with you, fucking you over your desk until your moans were filling the glass framed room just how he had always dreamt. He spanked you across the ass again, leaving a blushing pink handprint on your skin in the light of the desk lamp that rattled with the rhythmic shuttering of the desk beneath. He wanted to claim you as his forever. 

Dizzy with lust, he let it speak for him, “Whose is the only cock you’re taking? Hm?”

“Yours, sir.” you choked out and reached an arm out to grasp the opposite edge of your desk for something to hold onto. “Fuck, it feels so good!” 

“Yeah?” he tugged your hair harder, making you cry out loudly through the office. 

“Oh, God, Lando!” you sobbed out, struggling to keep the smile from your face, “Just like that!” 

Wide eyed at his unknown ability to have you so pleading and responsive, Lando was burning with energy. He had enough practice with you over the summer that he wasn’t going to come so early anymore but he knew that wasn’t going to last long if you kept crying out for him like that. Even then, he definitely didn’t want you to stop. 

You only grew wetter as the seconds passed until you were streaking his cock in slick arousal right down to the base, dripping down his balls, and the sound of him fucking you over your desk just grew louder. His hand in your hair prevented you from dipping your face down against your desk, forcing you to keep your eyes up and across your spacious corner office, staring right out the floor to ceiling windows opposite with a view of dusk painting the city. But with one more sharp spank across your ass, Lando was leaning down over top of you with one hand flat on your glass desk and the other moving from your hair to your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs as he fucked you faster, deeper, his blue eyed gaze watching how your expression moulded into pain and pleasure all in once. It was erotic. 

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” Lando groaned. “I better be the only one getting to see this face…looking so screwed up with pleasure for me.”

“Only for you.” you promised quickly, struggling to get words out with the way he pounded you over your desk. Even still, you arched your back for him the best you could to help him deeper, squeaking out a tight, “Yes.” 

“Good girl.” Lando mumbled, his warm breath falling against your temple, “Good little slut.” 

“Oh my God, s-sir- I’m gonna cum-“ you choked out, whimpering under his hand around your throat and your toes only curled in your red bottom heels against the floor. 

But before you could, Lando stood up and pulled out quickly, leaving you shuttering through the sudden emptiness and gasping as his hand left your throat. You slumped forward onto your desk until you were laying across your laptop, writhing with how close he had gotten you before leaving you throbbing with desire. He grabbed you by the back of your shirt and bunched up skirt and tugged you up, holding you in front of him like that, trapped between his body and the desk. You reached a hand back to try and pull his lips on yours by the back of his neck but he grabbed your arm to stop you. 

“Do you think you deserve kisses?” he asked lowly, right to your face. 

“I just want you to touch me.” you pleaded sweetly, grinding back against his body. 

Lando responded right against your ear, “I think I need to hear an apology before you are allowed to cum.” 

You licked away your smile as you stared back at him, “Sorry.” 

He slapped his hand down against your ass, “Not enough.” 

You whined softly for him, trying to pull his hands to touch you. Lando stepped away. 

He kicked off his shoes as he gave you your order, nodding to the narrow table against the wall behind your desk, “I want you up on that console table there. Legs spread.” 

He was so demanding it made you drip and you didn’t argue before hopping up onto the finished wood console, watching as he dropped his pants and boxers completely and kicked them to the side. His shirt came off next and you licked your lips at the sight of his naked body standing before you, your legs draped open wide over the edge of the narrow table, waiting for him. Your shirt was next as Lando pulled it up and over your head to let it drop to the floor with his clothes before he was following, getting on his knees in front of you. 

He barely gave you a second to process before he was prying your thighs apart wider and dragging his tongue up your pussy. You exhaled shakily and dropped a hand down to his hair as he moved right back in with strong purposeful licks to clean up the messy wetness that had smeared all over your skin from the way he fucked you only moments before. He had grown so addicted to the taste of you over the summer that it was almost rare when he wouldn’t go down on you. Even when you made him the angriest, the saddest, the most worried, he always wanted a taste. It was still you after all; his dream girl. 

“Lando…” you called sweetly, dazed with lust, and you reached down between you to link a finger around your soaked panties that were still just pushed to the side, “please take these off.”

He couldn’t say no to that and he took hold of the bunched up waistband and dragged the lacy material down your legs and to the ground. He then grabbed one of your thighs and pushed it up to hold you open for him, letting his tongue push inside you greedily to lick you out properly. Your hand in his hair only held him closer as your head fell back against the wall with a string of heavenly moans and whimpers that he forced from your chest. He only knew your body and no one else's so everything he learned was catered to you, meaning that every single thing he did was enough to make you breathless. 

Lando’s tongue toyed with your clit soon after, his eyes staring up at you from between your legs as he flicked a steady rhythm only increasing with speed consistently. Your hips ground against his face as you whined and moaned through your office, your head falling gently back against the wall between your two framed literary awards that hung proudly behind your desk. Lando was in complete heaven, all-encompassed by your taste and sounds that only proved to him that he was always the one for you. 

He suckled at your pussy with wet lips and tongue until his mouth was glistening and you were draping your leg over his shoulder, your heels falling from your feet one after the other until they hit the ground with two dull thunks. Writhing under his touch, you were moaning to the darkened ceiling, tugging at his hair, and blessing your office with the sound of his name on your lips. 

But then Lando was pulling away again and standing up, forcing a displeased cry from your throat that he silenced with his mouth on yours. Your hands grasped the sides of his neck as he kissed you strongly and you worked to keep up with his insistent pace of lips and tongue. You couldn’t think of anything else but him, not ever, but especially not when he was situating himself between your legs and pushing your thighs apart farther until they burned and he swallowed your strained whimper with his pillowy lips. 

In seconds, he was gliding his dick between your folds and then pressing it inside you again, watching how your head dropped back to break your kiss with the most erotic expression spread across your face. Lando could hear his heartbeat in his ears, burning at the sight of you giving into him. He grabbed your hips for stability and right away started to fuck you again, letting the filthy slick sound of your soaked pussy taking him in again and again fill your silent office. 

“Oh my God, Lando.” you cried out softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tightly to keep him close as you propped the heels of your bare feet up on the edge of the console table to keep your body spread for him. 

“Whose are you?” he tried, his breath falling against your cheek in jagged pants from the rough way he was fucking you. 

“Yours.” you answered melodically. 

“Whose?” he pressed, wrapping his fingers around your throat again. 

You groaned beautifully under his hand, staring into his eyes, “I’m yours, Lando.” 

“Uh huh-” he licked his lips, staring at how your breasts were pushed up nice and full in your bra, “No one else’s.” 

He used his other hand to grab onto the bunched up material of your skirt so he could fuck you hungrilly, keeping his eyes on your face as he did so. That way he could see every flash of expression that grazed your face, framed in the background by your awards that he himself had magazine cut outs of back in his bedroom at home. Now he was fucking you in front of the real things…having you as his own…life was a dream. A dream of just him and you. 

You could feel that overwhelming warmth building inside you again, your toes curling over the edge of the table with how you were spread for him, and your fingers dug down into his shoulders pleadingly. His hand tightened around your throat, choking your moans, and he kept his dick ramming into you in quick precise strokes that had your muscles fluttering around him. He was going to lose it.

So he pulled out. 

“Oh fuck you!” you gasped out sharply, the growing pleasure withering away into nothing again. You dropped a hand down to rub pleading at your pussy but he shoved you away, determined to stay completely in charge. 

“You are not the boss of me, you hear me?” he spoke sternly to you. “Just because you’re pretty and rich and successful does not mean you can walk all over me.”

“No, sir.” you hurried out, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and pull him into you again. 

“No, sir.” he mocked you gently, squeezing your cheeks in his hand. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

You dropped your tongue out expectantly. He spit strongly into your mouth. 

“Hold onto me.” he ordered quietly. 

You tightened your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders and he anchored his hands under your ass so he could hoist you up off the console table and into his arms. He wasn’t insanely strong but it was still impressive and you dipped down to kiss him messily as he walked you across the office and over to the closest floor to ceiling window. Your back hit the cool glass first and you moaned into his mouth as the evening soaked city lay beyond you, threatening with sights of strangers if it weren’t for the unrecognizable height you were at in the building. 

He took you so confidently like he had experience from the start and the sudden switch in his demeanor was completely arousing to you. You held his lips on yours by a gentle hand holding his jaw as your other arm was slung securely around his shoulders, breathing between your filthy wet kisses that only made you drip down your thighs. 

“Lando…” you exhaled shakily, “Please.” 

Despite the way you were magnetized to his lips, his eyes were open and lingering on your sweet face, holding your angelic body in his arms right up against the glass window to show you off as his own. He licked his way into your mouth, hungry, lost in the way you begged for him. 

“Please, baby.” you pleaded against his mouth, tugging gently at the roots of his fading blonde dyed hair, “Please fuck me. I want your perfect cock inside me, please.”

“Only mine?”

“Only yours, yes, sir.” 

Lando hoisted you up a little higher against the window and when he was sure you were secure, he moved one hand from supporting you to angle his dick between your spread legs. 

He opened his mouth to speak but you were one step ahead of him, giving him exactly what he expected of you with a breathy, “I’m yours.”

“Oh my God, good girl.” Lando groaned, rewarding you with the fullness of his dick sheathing inside you once more. 

Your head fell back against the window with a gasp, “Fuck!” 

Lando was sure he was running on adrenaline, buzzing with desire for you and the way you submitted to him so easily. He was hungry for you and completely dependent on the sound of your moans and how you begged for him, barely giving you a second to adjust before he was fucking you against the window, his eyes focused on your face. 

“Fuck!” you squealed again, clinging onto him tighter, “Yes!” 

His arms were aching slightly with how he needed to hold you up but your body wrapped around his made it impossible for him to stop. It was slightly clumsy the way he held you up with both of his arms around your waist and he would have second guessed his ability if it weren’t for the way he nearly had you sobbing. Your hands in his hair only tugged harder as he fucked you faster, grunting lowly against your cheek as the warmth of lust washed over him. 

“Oh my God, please don’t stop!” you cried out, body bouncing against the window as he had his way with you. 

A thing right out of his fantasies. 

He had you pinned right back against the glass and with every thrust he was pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back into you, making you feel every inch of him in such quick succession that your mouth was hanging open in near awe, struggling to keep his eye contact. The sounds you made were filthy and he couldn’t get enough of them, paired so perfectly with the wet slap of your skin. Lando’s left hand landed heavily against the window, leaving his arm around your waist since the way you clung onto him was support enough, giving himself the support to hold himself up. 

“Yes, just like that!” you pleaded, curling yourself into his neck in pleasurable overwhelm and your arms went right around his body. “Yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, yes, yes-”

“Fuck, baby-“ Lando moaned right up against your ear. 

Your nails raked across the skin of his bare back, painting him in red scratches that only expressed the way he brought pleasure to your body, clinging onto him desperately. He was overwhelming and the moans that spilled from your lips were uncontrollable, all thanks to the way he fucked you like you truly were all his. 

“Please-“ you sobbed into his neck, “Please- I’m gonna cum-“

Lando didn’t flinch, “Tell me you’re sorry and then you can cum.”

You answered easily, loudly, “I’m sorry!” 

“Mean it.” 

He still hadn’t stopped fucking you in that same addicting pace and you struggled to put together words to create a coherent sentence. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” you stumbled out, your words only made jagged by your messy moans and whimpers that he forced out of your body. “I’m sorry! I’m only yours - I promise! I promise!”

Lando’s proud smile was directed out the window as your body was clinging onto him and your face was buried in his neck. You obediently waited for his permission but holding yourself back was almost unbearable. 

“Please.” you whimpered. 

“Cum for me.” Lando ordered. 

“Oh my God.” you gushed in relief, letting yourself so quickly fall into pleasure that he brought you. 

Your nails pressed tighter into his back and your teeth sunk into his neck, needing some way to let out the intense feeling that rushed within you and bubbled to the surface. You tensed up in his arms, your pussy squeezing the life out of his dick as he fucked you into your orgasm and he groaned tightly to the window as he forced himself through it. 

Shuddering in his arms, he had to take his other hand from the glass to wrap around you again, holding you close as you gasped out his name and a pleasurable tear escaped your eye and fell onto the flushed skin of his neck. 

“Lan-do- fuck-“ you choked out of it, only having your easing out interrupted by the first thick spurt of him coming inside you. “Yes-“

His moans were loud and beautiful and you shut your eyes to focus on every inch of him, right down to how he shoved deep into you and gave you every last drop of warmth. All for you. 

Your hand raised to the back of his neck and you blindly pulled his lips to yours, sharing a few breathless off-centred kisses as he finished inside you, leaving his throbbing cock deliciously in place for a few more seconds. You gave each other little moans and sighs as your pleasure tapered off and after a few seconds, Lando had to pull away from your lips to catch his breath. 

“Gotta put you down.” he whispered. 

“Okay.” you permitted, carefully removing your wobbly legs from around his waist so he could pull out and help you stand on the floor properly. But your arms stayed around his neck and his hands rested on your waist, letting your heavy breathing fall in steady time as your noses brushed. Your lips nudged onto his next, sharing a few soft chasté kisses in the quiet light of your office, darkened by the sunken sun as he held you against the window. 

You pulled away with a lick to your lips and gently ran your fingers through the back of his hair, “You hungry?”

Lando let a small smile play at his lips, “Yeah.”

“Okay.” you rubbed his shoulders and dragged your hands down his chest, “I’ll order something and we can eat and talk for a bit.”  

Lando nodded, his pride suddenly exchanged with nervousness, “Okay.” 

You shimmied your skirt back down and Lando drifted across the spacious office to retrieve his discarded clothes and he pulled on his underwear and tossed you yours, trying not to let his mind stew over what you wanted to talk about. 

You grabbed your phone from your shifted desk and opened up an app to find something to order in, sitting yourself down on the small couch opposite your work space in only your skirt and bra. Lando drifted over to join you and he - almost nervously - sat himself down on your left. 

“Anything you’re craving?” you asked. 

He just stared at you, “Nope.” 

“Burger?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.” 

With your food ordered and waiting for its delivery, you were left to the silence of your empty office and the comfort of your private little lounge area despite the glass wall that stretched in front of you. The employees’ desks and meeting rooms were dark and vacant. Lando was staring at you as you stretched forward to set your phone on the coffee table and then you rested back again. 

You looked back at him. When you saw the expression on his face, you reached out a hand to rest against his bare chest and feel the thudding of his heart under your palm. A tiny smile came to your face, “What’s got your heart racing?”

“You.” Lando answered easily, his voice gentle as if the dim lighting of the office required it. 

“And fucking me all over this room?” you teased. 

He laughed lightly despite the nervousness that rose within him, “Yeah.” 

Teasing him just a little, you caressed the side of his neck, “You did well. You’re learning lots, young Padawan.” 

“Shut up.” Lando looked away from you with a small smile and a gentle shake of his head. 

There was a pause between you, tense silence lingering, and Lando kept his gaze on the coffee table with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip. 

You rubbed the back of his neck tenderly, “Can you look at me please?”

He took a small breath and looked back at you. 

“I’m sorry.” you said, “I really am.” 

Lando dropped his gaze to his lap, picking at his fingernails anxiously. 

Your hands framed his face and gently pulled his head up to get him to look at you again, “That was really shitty of me to not tell you what was going on.” 

“Yeah.” he breathed, barely audible. 

“I promise that you’re my only one. You’ve captured my heart in ways no one else has, I told you that.”

He nodded. 

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

You leaned in to kiss him, locking your lips with his in slow sensual kisses that had nothing but the strongest devotion behind them. Lando slowly lifted his hand to the back of your neck, melting into your lips and touch as he followed your lead until the gentle passion made him dizzy. You felt the same as he had a way of sending your heart and soul spiraling and you shifted a little closer to him on the couch so you could feel more of his heavenly presence. 

After a few long seconds, Lando’s words were suffocating him at the back of his throat, desperate for more reassurance, and he had to pull away from your kiss for a moment. You almost didn’t let him but you brushed your nose against his adoringly as he licked his lips and worded his question, “And Pierre?” 

Dizzy on bliss with a mind only taken by the man in front of you, you hummed out a, “Who?”

Lando smiled lightly, “Good answer.” 

You giggled with realization and pushed your lips back on his once, twice, and then you were sitting back. 

“He’s nothing. He’s work.” you rehashed, petting your hand through his messy hair, “I’ll tell him about us, okay?”

Lando, suddenly feeling a bit of shame, replied, “You don’t have to.”

“I do.” you nodded, “You made some good points when you came in here yelling at me.” 

You shared small smiles and Lando scoffed lightly with a shrug, speaking to your lips since looking into your eyes felt like too much sometimes, “I will never let you push me away.” 

“I’m not…pushing you away.” you spoke as casually as you could but the words held some sort of realization on your tongue and you faded quietly. You looked down, unable to meet his gaze as he stared at you so intently right beside you. 

Lando whispered his gentle notice, “You were pushing me away.” 

“I…” you didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t even realized it. You turned to face forward on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in thought as you reminded yourself of your actions from the last week. 

“I don’t know why you don’t think you deserve to be treated nicely. Even every time I compliment you it’s like you can’t ever accept it.” Lando continued softly, “You are my dream girl…woman…both inside and out and I’m not just saying that. You really are unbelievable to me…you take my breath away all the time and I still can’t believe that you want some random guy like me. Maybe sometimes that makes me a little paranoid and scared…maybe we’re kinda the same like that.” 

“Unable to accept the niceness of each other?” you chuckled. 

Lando smiled and shifted to sit forward on the couch too, “Yeah?” 

You sniffled although you weren’t crying and you looked at him at your side, “Yeah.”

“Nothing you could do could ever put me off.” Lando promised. “Unless you lie to me and hide things from me…then I’ll be a little upset but nothing we can’t work out, okay?”

You nodded, “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” he leaned in to kiss you once. 

You smiled softly and chased his lips for one more kiss. Your hand reached for his on his lap and you slid your fingers between his, “And I’m not going anywhere so don’t keep thinking I’m going to find someone better because I’m not.” 

Lando leaned into you, “Okay. I’m gonna hold you to that.” 

You rested your head against his and, hands holding each other’s, you sat there in peaceful silence for a moment. Lando even closed his eyes, cherishing the warmth of your presence. He really wanted to tell you he loved you. 

Your phone lit up from its place on the coffee table and you reached forward to retrieve it, skimming the notification before announcing, “Our food is here!” 

Lando held onto your hand a little longer even as you stood up from the couch and you dipped down to kiss him once. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

“Promise?”

You smiled widely and kissed him again, “Promise, lover.” 

He let you go. 

You tugged your shirt on and slid into your heels while on your way out the door of your glass framed office and you hurried to the elevator to meet the delivery driver on the street. It was only then that you realized you were dripping cum down your inner thighs and you did your best to keep your legs together under your skirt as you shuffled across the vacant building lobby to the front doors. The driver was waiting on the other side and you pushed them open to grab your bags with a polite thanks and a wish good night. There was a handsome man waiting for your return upstairs after all; no time for small talk with strangers. 

When you were walking back down the hallway towards your office, you stopped outside the glass wall to watch as Lando - in only his boxers - arranged a little set up for the two of you on the rug. He had pushed aside the coffee table and set the two throw blankets and few decorative cushions on the floor in front of the couch, leaving the room still dimmed to only the light of the desk lamp. Despite the faint lighting, the emergency lights that lined the main hallway allowed a bit more visibility and enough so that you could make out the red scratches down his back. 

Smirking proudly, you lingered in the doorway just to stare at him for a moment, “Those pretty red scratches down your back do you wonders, baby.” 

Lando glanced over at you in surprise at your appearance but he broke into a bashful grin, “Glad you think so.” 

He then grabbed something from the couch and tossed it over to you. Your panties landed at your feet. 

“You forgot something.”

“I know.” you chuckled, kicking them back towards him with the toe of your heel, “I was kinda leaking down my legs the entire way downstairs. My thighs hurt from clenching them together so tightly.”

“You know, when I passed them to you, that meant put them on.” Lando tisked lightheartedly as you set the takeout bags on the coffee table and he stood close at your side. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” you replied casually as you started to unpack your food, “I like feeling you drip out of me.”

Lando’s little shuttering gasp made you smirk and he gave your bum a gentle smack, “Dirty girl.” 

With your food spread out on the table and the bottle of red wine you ordered sitting prettily in the middle, you left Lando to get situated as you retrieved two glasses from the bar cart by the window and once you passed them to him to fill, you kicked your heels off and pulled your shirt back over your head. You couldn’t let him be the only one half bare. 

You joined him on the rug and cuddled up close to his side with you both leaning back against the bottom of the couch. In your close proximity, you gently clinked your wine glasses together with your eyes focused all on each other as if you couldn’t get enough. 

“To us?” Lando asked. 

“To us.” you agreed with a smile and you took your first sips. 

As close as possible on your office floor, you shared your late dinner for appetites that had only grown substantially since he had helped himself to your desk more than an hour earlier. It was quiet for the first little bit as you focused on eating and drinking but as you slowed down, your focus was turned back to each other. 

Lando’s arm was around your shoulders and you were leaning into him happily, sharing fleeting feather soft kisses between feeding each other french fries. After almost two days of lows, Lando felt on top of the world again. You had a tendency of doing that to him. 

It was the way you always wanted more of him as you chased his kisses with one more, two more, pulling him in by the back of his neck to taste the rich red wine that stained his lips. Lando always seemed to swoon over how you silently showed how you craved him just as much as he always craved you. 

You rested your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, “I’m sorry my work is shitty.”

“It’s not shitty.” Lando answered easily.

“I don’t like that we have to be so cautious all the time.” you confessed, gently swirling your last few sips of wine around the bottom of your glass absentmindedly, “I want to be normal with you.”

“What’s normal?” Lando asked.

“Where we can go out for dinner without speculation…hold hands…look at each other for more  than five seconds even around the office.” 

Lando smiled to himself at the thought of those simple acts that were off limits for the two of you but he gave you a gentle squeeze, “That’s okay. It’s moments like this that make up for all that.”

You looked at him, “You sure?”

He nodded, his eyes drifting between your lips and your eyes, “Totally sure. I don’t mind being your little secret. It’s kind of thrilling sometimes.”

You smiled back at him, “It is, isn’t it?”

He slid his arm from around your shoulders and gently pulled at your bottom lip, “Mhm.” 

You leaned in towards him so you were almost resting against his chest and you caressed his cheek with the back of your finger, “I’m so thankful that I met you…that you waited in that lineup…stayed until the very end…and convinced me to come to dinner with you.”

Lando rubbed your back, staring deeply into your eyes, “I’d do anything for you. Always have. Always will.” 

You leaned in to press your lips to his, lingering there a moment or two before pulling away again. 

“Mm mm.” Lando hummed, raising his hand to the side of your neck to pull you back in for more. 

You smiled happily into his kiss, sharing a few closed mouthed innocent kisses as the last few french fries grew cold in their takeout containers. But as you both melted into each other and your lips locked deeply, kisses growing stronger, warmer, your leftovers were the last thing on your mind. It was like a dance between the two of you that had been only perfected over the summer right down to the way your tongues matched each other’s motions precisely until you were feeling those perfect butterflies in your stomach. Lando knew if it went on any longer, he’d definitely get hard again - that was so easy for you to do to him. 

But it wasn’t long before you were pulling away slowly, leaving both your lips pouted naturally out of it as your eyes fluttered open to meet each other’s gaze. You caressed his chest with your hand that wasn’t claimed by your glass and you requested of him breathily, “Come home with me.” 

He would never say no to you.

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[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[ohsunnyboy]

coherent waves | lee anton ˚₊‧⁺˖

people say the first touch of fate feels like a circuit being completed. so why does lee anton's soulmate seem to hate him?

TAGS: soulmate!au, college!au, gn!reader, cute and awkward engineering majors!anton and reader, confessions in the rain, kiss!

A/N: this boy bias wrecked me SO hard i paused writing a sungchan fic for this haha self-indulgent SCREAMiing as always (to clarify, his mark is on his left, our right)

WORDS: ~1700

Everyone knows Lee Anton's face.

No matter what, everyone's got their campus crushes. The people they'd linger around a corner for in hope of seeing, those with soulmarks you wish would line up just perfectly with your own. Somewhere out there, someone's walking around with your first touch of fate around with them. It's for that reason everyone knows Anton as the campus crush.

It's impossible to miss the six feet of cuteness, the shoulders broad enough to span the Californian coast and the tan handprint branded across his left cheek. Lee Anton, the sweetest guy on campus whose soulmate was destined to slap him in the face once they met. Nothing in it spelt destiny for you, but it was definitely curiosity at first sight.

"Hey, are we okay? Just at group study…” And your brain sputters like a misfiring car. He’s right behind you, isn’t he?

You want to pretend you didn’t hear him over the bucketing rain – maybe even your thunderous heart. Without an umbrella, you’re screwed if you run down the library steps into the dark and you’d look insane to push past him back into the library. Damn.

Not once did you dare speak to him during the entire group study. Though the feeling of his curious eyes lingering on you alone lit you up like a fuse about to blow. No wonder he's asking you if you're okay. The entire time you acted like some tween with a stupid crush. Which you’re not. Clearly and obviously not. First year electrical engineering has enough problems to give you a migraine.

Something about being around him sets your brain off like a capacitor discharging. Everything firing off at once, without a thought of where to go.  

"No? Yes! Yes. Fuck – sorry. We’re fine." Is what you come up with.

And some boy can apparently render you stupid within two feet of him. Someone needs to remind you how you’re a candidate for the dean’s list again.

Your stilted answer and the ensuing silence cause the corner of Anton's lip to quirk into a grimace. "Ah – okay. Sorry, I'll see you Friday.” When he takes out his umbrella it nearly whacks you in the face before he starts to run down the steps, leaving not a glance behind him.

Ah, shit.

Stunned, you’re left with a) no umbrella and b) a burning sense of mortification about how badly that went. Before you know it, your feet are running you down the path he took. One problem at a time… c’mon fix this. "Hey! Hey wait up, please! Anton!"

Running in the pouring rain was something you never planned on doing tonight or any day of the week but for fixing whatever you’ve got with Anton – it seems worth it.

Whatever they used to say about stem majors being chronically unfit bookworms definitely applies to you, as your heart thuds in your skull and lungs start to give out. Somehow after months of trailing behind his broad back, you underestimated how quickly he can escape you. 

Finally, like a lighthouse in the night, his blue umbrella is radiant under the light of the bus stop. “Anton!”

Three months of dodging each other’s eyes and scampering out empty classrooms early, Anton’s eyes are at the edges of almost all your memories. You know his wide eyed look anywhere. But with as much grace of a new-born giraffe, you sidle next to him under his umbrella, unaware of the blush warming Anton’s face.

Thankfully there’s no one else about apart from him to watch you keel over for a solid minute to gather your breath. Internally you think you’re as bright red as the LEDs you use in the labs. That, and so soaked you’re sure you're waking up with a cold tomorrow. Though, it could be worse. It could be whatever happened earlier.

Caught again in his orbit, you feel it again. The charge crackling under your skin that makes you want to claw at it.

It’s a moment before anyone speaks, still too busy process what exactly is going on. Eventually you gain your bearings and look into his shifty eyes with resolution.

“Hey look – I’m super sorry about everything,” you blurt. “The entire thing with the study group and completely dodging you in class. I – well, it’s not on purpose but I don’t know why but it’s like I get caught in some interference feed within like a metre of you and I just can’t think straight. Everything just sort of fires off in an incoherent mess. I’m trying, I really do but for once, I just can’t explain it.” It pours out in what feels like one breath. You feel like you’re teetering on the spot, on the cusp of embarrassment or sheer confidence. At this point, it might just be both. “… Sorry if I made you uncomfortable about anything but you’re top of our year, so damn cool and collected all the time – I feel like my wires get mixed up.” 

There’s an ache in your neck from looking up to him and watching his reaction. Calm and collected as always. It must be the longest you’ve ever got to look him in the eyes properly. Until,

“Me too.”

Huh?

Anton pauses for a moment, worrying the inside of his cheek before admitting, “I… I really wished we could talk more but you’re always busy and I feel awkward butting in. You’re really intimidating in the group studies, you know? You know everything and get along with everyone so easily. I psyche myself out.”

As he talks, your cheeks warm in endearment and you shuffle closer while he’s distracted. The familiar scent of cherries that would haunt you around campus suddenly right under your nose.

“I mean, I thought you’d just be another person put off by this-“ he waves a self-conscious hand over his soulmark “-and being avoidant because of that. Though I guess I figured you didn’t care because you never lingered on it like… like everyone else.”

It comes to you all in pieces. Anton always ducking his head away, never looking anyone straight on, always pursing his lips and turning away whenever someone brought up soulmarks. Those rumours haunt him.

However, standing here you’ve never been more confident. You know your what your hand looks like.

Does he?

“I think it has a good story.” The look of disbelief he gives you is priceless but you push on. “I mean, mine’s just on my palm just like seventy percent of the population so it can be boring.” Under the light, you raise your hand to him, showing the contrasting darker skin on your right palm and the small shake of your fingers. Anton locks onto your mark with a laser focus that you’ve never seen before. “And besides… I think you know what your soulmark actually is.”

One step closer: you’re just a hairsbreadth away. So close you can feel is body heat through his hoodie and see your breath leaving goosebumps on the expanse of his exposed neck. In the reflection of his blown pupils you can almost see yourself.

He swallows, eyes never leaving your palm. "You know what everyone says about it." Anton chews at his lip, bitten raw from worry. It’s stupidly endearing whether he knows it or not. Instead of dropping it, you raise your hand, leaving it to rest on his shoulder in comfort. “That the only reason I get slapped is because I’m secretly an asshole?”

"You don't know that it’s a slap for sure.”

"Then what else could it be then.”

"Really, Anton?" you hum. He’s so tense under your hand you feel like he could shatter from where you touch him. His eyes dazed and lingering where your hand used to be "We’re both smarter than this.”

Under the streetlight, what he has is clear as day to you while you trace his mark with your eyes. The thumbprint that curls across his left cheekbone, to the fingertips that edge from his hairline to his jaw and even the light shadow that touches the corner of his lip – as if he’s pressing a kiss to the heel of their palm. "Whoever it is, they're holding you."

“…Whoever it is… ?” he murmurs.

Anton’s unwavering gaze finally bores into you. Two interstellar blackholes swallowing you up and bearing down. An infinite number of thoughts or none at all. All behind those eyes, calculating and calibrating. You wonder where he is in that brilliant mind of his.

“Do it.”

You’re so careful.

You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if you hurt him. Maybe this doesn’t work out? What if you’re just another person in the crowd watching and waiting for someone else. You knew from the moment you started high school, life was a bunch of problems that you had to solve. The sheer existence of uncertainty guarantees nothing in any aspect of your life. What is guaranteed already, what are the variables, what are you working with. Whatever this is – it’ll be another problem but not one you get to calculate – it's one you need to guess.

His skin is too warm, and your hand is too cold. Nothing sparks but something is complete in your heart.

It fades. The marks – yours, his, all of it. It recedes back as if it never existed.

"I told you so."   

The clatter of the umbrella is your only warning before his hands cup your face and he kisses you. He kisses you in earnest, softer than you'd expect and warm enough to make your knees weak. With a deceptive strength, Anton presses you back against a railing, and your arms loop around his neck, hands burying in his hair. Hidden muscles you used to wonder about, tense where you touch him.

Eyes closed to the rain, foreheads knocked together and not a care in the world. You’re pulled into him like air. Both of you are trembling with relief. Like coherent waves, you come together in sync and everything you feel is amplified between you two. It’s then you know exactly what was racing in his mind.

Smiling into your neck, Anton sighs. "I'm yours." His voice lower and a little bit breathier. It makes your heart skip a beat, and your mouth turns up at the corners.

All across your veins it’s like a current is pushing through your skin. Anton and you, a circuit complete.

blehh i'm rusty but i'm starting uni as a mechEng student soonish so wish me luck 🫡 a reblog or a like always helps to encourage more thank you! ⭒ masterlist

[infiniteglitterfall]

A Chabad synagogue in Pomona, New York, burned to the ground on April 17th, along with its three Torah scrolls.

Torah scrolls are hand-written, hand-made, and kept in elaborately decorated cases or wrappings.

Many of them have long histories; my synagogue has two, I think, that were smuggled out of villages being destroyed in pogroms or in Nazi attacks. One of them is the only remaining piece of that village on earth.

Sometimes, the Torah scroll doesn't even belong to the synagogue, but is on loan from a place like the Memorial Scrolls Trust:

There's an entire Jewish holiday just for taking them out and dancing with them: Simchat Torah, "The Joy of Torah."

In fact, that was the holiday on which Hamas's invasion took place.

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So it's a particular tragedy when a Torah is destroyed.

Chabad itself has a page about what goes into making just one Torah scroll:

"An authentic Torah scroll is a mind-boggling masterpiece of labor and skill. Comprising between 62 and 84 sheets of parchment -- cured, tanned, scraped and prepared according to exacting Torah law specifications -- and containing exactly 304,805 letters, the resulting handwritten scroll takes many months to complete.

"An expert pious scribe carefully inks each letter with a feather quill, under the intricate calligraphic guidelines of Ktav Ashurit (Ashurite Script). The sheets of parchment are then sewn together with sinews to form one long scroll. While most Torah scrolls stand around two feet in height and weigh 20-25 pounds, some are huge and quite heavy, while others are doll-sized and lightweight."

I learned all of this on Tumblr.

Once upon time, in people's "punch Nazis" days, I would've been able to find some mention on Tumblr of this synagogue burning.

There is none, so I'm posting about it.

And I'm going to quote Daniel Weiner, Rabbi of Temple de Hirsch Sinai in Bellevue, Washington, when his own synagogue was vandalized last November:

"It’s horrific and heartbreaking.... [Taking out your feelings about] what's going on in the Middle East by defacing a sacred space of a synagogue -- that’s the very definition of antisemitism."

I'm also posting about the Kehillat Shaarei Torah Synagogue in Toronto, whose windows were broken on Friday, April 19th, by someone who also tried to break the front door down.

And the April 15 graffiti outside a Bangor, Maine synagogue that said, "Nazi Israel 30K murdered," next to a crossed-out Star of David. The same synagogue faced pro-Hamas flyers plastered around it in November.

I was going to include all the synagogues vandalized over the past six months. But there are way too many. Several every week. Lots are swastikas.

I'll go back to just doing attacks on and near synagogues.

Someone has to talk about the 1-year-old who was stabbed outside Temple Beth Zion-Beth Israel (BZBI) synagogue, in Philadelphia, on April 13th.

The foiled terrorist attack on a Moscow synagogue on April 11th.

The man who, on April 9th, screamed at the rabbi at Moldova's Great Synagogue, "What are you doing here? How come no one has finished you off for everything you are doing to the Palestinians?" Just one week after people had vandalized a Holocaust memorial in nearby Soroka, and sprayed "Free Palestine" on it.

The Oldenburg, Germany synagogue that was firebombed on April 5th.

The Florida Las Olas Chabad Jewish Center, which on March 16 burned, but not to the ground. The Torah scrolls were safe, and no one was hurt, but the back of the building was severely damaged.

The planned-but-thwarted-on-March-7th ISIS massacre in a Moscow synagogue.

The stabbing of an Orthodox Jew in Switzerland on March 5th. (He was badly injured, but expected to survive.)

A man leaving a synagogue in Paris was beaten on March 3rd.

People set the courtyard of a synagogue in Sfax, Tunisia on fire on February 27th. Firefighters managed to put the fire out before it consumed the inside of the building.

The synagogue is no longer used; there are no Jews left in its area, and fewer than 1,000 Jews left in Tunisia overall.

(Thousands of Tunisian Jews were sent to work camps during the Holocaust. Antisemitism across the Middle East continued to increase rapidly for decades. By the 1970s, 90% of Tunisian Jews had fled to France or Israel.)

On February 18, an Orthodox Jew leaving Synagogue of Inverrary-Chabad in Lauderhill, Florida, was beaten by an attacker yelling racial slurs.

Someone deliberately chose International Holocaust Remembrance Day, January 27, to smash all the windows in the front of Sgoolai Israel Synagogue in downtown Fredericton, New Brunswick.

On December 29, Turkey arrested 32 people linked to ISIS who were planning attacks on synagogues and churches.

On December 17, a man drove a U-Haul truck up onto the sidewalk between a barrier and the front door of the Kesher Israel Congregation in Washington D.C., got out, and started yelling "Gas the Jews." He also sprayed a foul-smelling substance on two people leaving the synagogue.

December 17 also saw 400 synagogues across the United States receive bomb threats.

On December 11, a man attacked an elderly couple on their way into a synagogue in Los Angeles, screaming, "Give me your earrings, Jew!!" and beating one of them bloody with a belt. (Happily, he chased the guy down the street, and caught him when his pants fell down.)

On December 10, a 16-year-old was arrested in Vienna for planning an attack on a synagogue.

On December 8, on the first night of Hanukkah, 15 synagogues in New York State received bomb threats. And someone screamed, "Free Palestine," and fired shots outside of Temple Israel in Albany, NY. Which has a preschool that was in session.

Meanwhile, the five Jews left in Egypt were canceling public Hanukkah candle-lighting at their synagogue out of fear of reprisals. Particularly after two Israelis in Alexandria had been gunned down by terrorists on October 8. (While Israel was still fighting Hamas in Israel.)

On November 15, a terrorist group set the only synagogue in Armenia on fire.

Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) has a history of working with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).

(PFLP is part of Hamas's network of groups. Samidoun is their nonprofit arm - which is why Germany banned Samidoun last year, although it's still active in many other countries.

PFLP is also actively supported by the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), a diaspora nonprofit group, and Within Our Lifetime (WOL), an SJP spinoff in NYC.)

On November 11, halfway through Shabbat services, police asked Central Shul in Melbourne, Australia to evacuate "as a precaution" due to a "pro-Palestinian" protest that had chosen the neighboring park as its gathering place. Australia has seen some very outspoken antisemitism at protests, including the march shortly after October 7 that chanted "Gas the Jews."

Also on November 11, protesters targeted a synagogue along a march route. They sat in their cars, spraying green smoke and shouting at people leaving the synagogue. The march itself featured a record number of horrifying signs and chants.

On November 7th, Congregation Beth Tikvah in Montreal was firebombed, and the back door of the Jewish organization across the street (Federation CJA) was set on fire.

On November 4, protesters chanted "Bomb Israel," and burned an Israeli flag outside the only synagogue in Malmo, Sweden.

During October, there were 501 antisemitic acts under investigation in France in just three weeks, including groups gathering in front of synagogues shouting threats, and graffiti such as the words “killing Jews is a duty” sprayed outside a stadium.

On October 18, people firebombed a synagogue in Berlin after homes all over the neighborhood were graffitied with stars of David.

And also on October 18, hundreds of "pro-Palestine" rioters attacked the Or Zaruah Synagogue, in the Spanish enclave of Melilla in North Africa, while worshippers were inside.

Based on the video, they seem to have blocked the synagogue entrance completely, while screaming "Murderous Israel" and waving Palestinian flags. (Melilla is an autonomous zone belonging to Spain. It borders Morocco.)

On October 17, during pro-Palestinian protests, hundreds of rioters set fire to Al Hammah synagogue, an abandoned house of prayer in central Tunisia. They hammered down the building’s walls and raised a Palestinian flag on the building. Police did not intervene.

The Facebook page "Tunigate", which has around 88 thousand followers, published a video of the assault. So did "Radio Bousalem”, with 83 thousand users. The vast majority of comments on these videos welcome these acts. The building was severely damaged and almost completely razed to the ground.

On October 15, bomb threats were sent to many East Coast synagogues. Attleboro synagogue Congregation Agudas-Achim received one of the emails, which read, "The bombs will blow up in a few hours. A lot of people will die. You all deserve to die."

On October 8 -- again, while Hamas was still in Israel -- Madrid’s main synagogue was defaced with graffiti that read “Free Palestine” next to a crossed-out Star of David.

And on October 7, an assailant in Rockland, NY fired a BB gun at two women entering a synagogue. Later in the month, a banner at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue in the area was vandalized with the words, “Fuckin kikes."

[astridthevalkyrie]

the floor between you and xavier is thin. you are beautiful. and xavier is tortured.

cw: afab reader, masturbation, nonconsensual auditory voyeurism 😭, xavier being a pervert

i have a midterm in two hours and i spent the last two hours writing all of this. dammit. inspired by this brilliant post (original poster is @skynapple) thank you for giving me permission to write this lolz

once a habit forms, it is incredibly difficult to break. he knows that. he has known that. xavier has had years and years and years to make habits and to subsequently break them.

those twenty-something years he was a nail biter. the tugging of his hair whenever he was tired for around thirty-two decades. six hundred years strong and he still can’t keep a straight face whenever he smells something his nose doesn’t agree with. 

some habits he’s fine with not breaking. 

but this one.

oh, he needs to break this one as soon as possible.

and yet, every friday evening he tells himself that this time will be the last time. when friday morning arrives, he wakes up refreshed and confident that it will not happen again. by the time the clock hits 3 pm, he can already feel his palms become clammy; if he was a cartoon he’d think an ironic bead of sweat would form on his temple. and by the time the sun is going down and the rain has soaked his hair completely, xavier is shoving his too practical key into the too practical lock of his apartment door, and the dread in his chest has already settled with the weight of what he knows he’s going to do.

he could leave. he could go.

he doesn’t.

xavier takes his time changing out of his uniform and showering. the water burns even when he sets it at a lower temperature. his entire space feels too hot. sweat is actually building on his forehead now. 

it’s been a long week, he thinks, as he rolls onto his bed, opting to wear nothing but boxers (and even that’s useless). he tries to remember all the missions he’s been on since monday, and more importantly all the missions you’ve been on. you’re a bit of a braggart, so he hears all about them, and he never minds, because he could listen to you brag about yourself for centuries on end and the whole time he’d only nod along and agree.

the more missions there’s been, though, the more exhausted you are at the end of the week. and the more exhausted you are, the more orgasms you try to pull from your fingers every friday night.

when tara’s over, your music is never loud. your laughs rarely carry over. and your volume has never been disruptive (not that he would consider hearing you to be disruptive at all). it’s as if you know that the walls are thin and you’re trying to be as polite as possible. 

then why is it that when you touch yourself, you’re so loud?

are you trying to make sure he can hear you?

or, and this is what already has him hardening at the thought, are you just so sensitive that you can’t help it?

your first whimper blesses his ears, and xavier shuts his eyes, lying flat with his head against his pillow. closing his eyes helps. it makes him feel less like a stalker who’s crossed through time and space for you, and more like he’s just someone you care for, because this way he can imagine you’re in front of him, on top of him, letting out those first few sweet sounds at his touch.

“mmh,” your voice carries over, and goosebumps litter his arms as he swallows, teasing the line of his boxers with the tips of his fingers. there isn’t a rush. usually, he has just enough restraint to make sure he comes with you.

the next thing he hears is a sharp gasp, and xavier groans lowly, trying to be quiet, or at least more quiet than you. already he’s building tonight’s fantasy up, spurred on by the sound of the rain beating against the window. the last time you and he had spent the night in the rain…

“just stay until tomorrow morning,” you’d urged him, lashes fluttering innocently, not knowing the key that he’d supposedly forgotten was heavy in his pocket. even though he was the one who’d lied, he’d still argued against it, because now that the invitation was out in the open you were too close for his rapidly beating heart, your eyes too inviting and your hands too soft.

xavier imagines he didn’t argue that night. he imagines he’d agreed instead, and had accepted the change of clothes from your closet. the acid in his chest that hisses knowing you even have another man’s clothes in your closet is quickly silenced when you don’t wait for him to leave the room, and instead lift your own shirt right above your head.

he’s never seen you like that. but his imagination is more than ready to supply him with what you’d look like, evidence gathered from how your uniform would cling to you while you fought, or even from how your robes would slip up a little when you were sparring him some hundred years ago—

his hand wraps around his cock without him even realizing it, and he lets out a small, choked moan.

your hands are softer than this. they’d feel better. in the corner of his mind he sees you, topless, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling above him, caressing his face with those soft hands before running them down his chest. your touch does so love to wander. and his body is yours to explore. he’s never belonged to someone else.

he whispers your name and almost as if in response, you let out a cute little squeal, and xavier curses under his breath as he pictures you making that sound while he fingers you. he’d start off with one, just because you seem sensitive. but then he’d add another. and another, and then he’d watch you ride them. 

slowly, he rubs his hand up and down his length, remembering the last time you’d held this hand to resonate with his evol. last week, for a particularly tough wanderer. your palm had been smooth against it, and now the next time you do it he’ll remember that he touched himself to the thought of you with that same hand.

“mmh, don’t tease me…”

oh, you’re speaking today. pleading with an invisible voice, or maybe you really do know that he’s just below you, hanging on to your every word. and he’s disinclined to acquiesce to your request—he’d do nothing but tease you. once he’d make you come once with his fingers, he’d toss your legs over his shoulders and drag his tongue along your folds, bring you to the brink before pulling away. he’d watch the way your lips pout and the way your eyes flare up whenever you’re emotional, and he wouldn’t give you time to complain before diving in again.

“sorry, sweetheart, you know i can’t help it.”

xavier’s eyes fly open with a gasp at the sudden other voice—there’s someone with you. there’s someone in your room, on your bed, with their hands on you. 

there’s a pause, and then he hears you again, letting out a small, “y-you’re so…haah, mean…”

one of his hands curl into the sheets below, clutching them so tightly in his fist that he wouldn’t be surprised if they came off.

someone is touching you. someone is making you—incredible, wonderful, beautiful you—whine like that, close enough to hear you, far closer than xavier has ever been.  

“i’m not mean,” the man who is invading your bedroom right now says, “you can’t look like that and expect me not to edge you. you’re the most beautiful when you’re begging, you know?”

“i could say the same about you,” is your not-so-hushed response, and during the next pause he can barely hear anything but he knows you must be kissing him. him, whoever he is. a date, your boyfriend, the devil—you’re kissing him, those soft, gorgeous lips of yours are against someone else’s when all xavier has done in his time with you is try to tear his eyes off those lips, wondering what they would like against him.

“c’mon,” your voice pleads again, “i need you. i’ve needed you all day.”

the man groans, and xavier hears the kiss this time, one fierce and stolen in the heat of the moment. 

“if you insist. you know i can’t resist you, sweetheart.”

there’s some shuffling and xavier thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. he feels…he feels everything, sick and jealous and almost angry, and he can feel himself trembling with every inch of him screaming to get up and confront whoever thinks they can touch your skin and draw those noises from your throat—

but when you let out a high-pitched, muffled cry, xavier’s hand goes back down, and he starts stroking himself with more urgency.

you’ve never been this loud before. and xavier used to enjoy that, thinking of it as a challenge, that if he ever got to have you, he’d make sure you were louder with him than you were with anyone else. he’s brought himself to orgasm at just the idea. but now it’s torture, hearing your voice go up several octaves for someone who isn’t him, for whoever’s hips are roughly colliding against your own, filling his ears with a muted plap, plap, plap…

“fu-u-ck, baby, how are you this tight?” the interloper groans, “gonna make me come, m’gonna come inside you…”

xavier’s skin crawls at the needy moan you let out in response.

the fantasy in his head is ruined. there is no more vision of a seductive version of you having your wicked way with him, but instead he is imagining exactly what is happening, a dirty picture of him in a corner watching someone else enjoy you to the fullest extent. wrecking your beautiful body the way you deserve.

your moans are building, higher and higher, and his back is arching off the bed as he fucks his fist, still trying to pretend like he’s yours and you’re his, that he’s the one burying himself inside your wet heat, that your nails are digging into his back, leaving lines on his skin, drawing blood if that’s what you wanted—

“raf!” you wail, and your voice breaks, and xavier’s eyes roll back, and he spills into his hand.

there’s still a ringing in his ears as he pants, breathing heavily while the sound of skin slapping becomes more desperate, as the intruder—raf— speeds up to try and reach his own end too.

his hand moves on its own. with barely an intention formed in his mind, he presses it to his heart, and he feels a surge of energy run through his chest, no time left to regret anything.

the sounds stop completely.

after a minute, his phone lights up with a notification.

starlight: hey did your lights go out too???

starlight: my room just blacked out

starlight: i had a friend over i’m so embarrassed lol

with his chest heaving as he lays back against the pillows, and his right hand sticky, xavier texts you back with his left, a soft, tired sigh escaping him.

xav: no mine’s still on

xav: i’ve got tea and takeout come over

xav: i’d love to meet your friend

[cameronspecial]

Could you write an enemies to lovers fanfic with Rafe Cameron x middle class sassy sarcastic chubby reader where reader and JJ are super close which pisses Rafe off but he completely loses it when JJ starts flirting, touching reader somehow, and ask her out. When JJ runs off somewhere to probably get a drink, a few minutes later, Rafe tells reader to come with him because it concerns her “boy” which is just an excuse to get her alone. She sees that JJ has a hand print on his wrist which causes reader to confront him and yell at him for hurting JJ and Rafe confess his love for reader which leads to praise and breeding kink sex. In this story, Rafe and Reader have known each other since she was 16 and he was 18 because she was his classmate at the kook’s academy

Everything Was Blue

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.9K

Masterlist

Ever since he stole her spot as class President in their senior year at Kildare Academy, Y/N has had it out for Rafe. She would’ve been fine if he won the vote because he wanted the position, except he didn’t. He only campaigned for the title once he saw how much she wanted it. He was lucky that being VP was enough for her to get into Harvard because she would’ve killed him on the spot if it had. 

The year spent as his Vice President was torture and she made it her life mission to return the favour to him. He would provoke her by sending her out as an errand girl. He would solely focus on the aspects of the job that made him popular with their peers, so when it came to the background work or the less favourable policies, she was left to tend to them. Rafe promised the students to make every Friday casual dress day and Y/N spent a whole weekend by herself working to make that happen while he and the other Student Council Members partied at the Boneyard. She got back at him though by anonymously telling Ward where his bottle of expensive whiskey went. 

To add to her distaste for the Kook, he always antagonizes her Pogue friends and her relationship with them. She may be rich enough to afford Kook Academy, but the number in her parents' bank account was not satisfactory for the Kooks so the Pogues took her under their wing. They didn’t care what she had financially; they cared that she had whipcrack remarks against Rafe and would stand up for them against any Kook who tried to mess with them. She was an honour Pogue and proud of it, especially since hating Rafe was one of the requirements. 

———

The sand gives way to her shoes as she hops out of her jeep. Music coming in front of her tells her the party is already in full swing and she curses Mr. Robinson for being late coming home from his meeting. She reaches into the car to pick up her phone and keys from the passenger seat, closing the door behind her. She spins around to find Rafe leaning against the car beside hers. “For someone who put time-management skills on her resume, you sure are late to the party,” he teases and then brings the red solo cup to his lips. She glares at him. “Well, for someone who claims to be good in bed, you would assume you could make a girl cum. But, at last, I’ve heard otherwise.” She smirks at the way his eyes narrow and continues her journey toward the gathering of people on the beach. He pushes off the car to follow her. “So you’ve been asking how I am in bed. Why? You want to take me out for a ride?” She laughs at the idea, “More like enough girls have been dissatisfied with the service you provide that they felt the need to complain.” 

His mouth gapes and he can’t think of a comeback before she spots JJ in the crowd and makes her way to the Pogue. 

“Hi,” she greets, running her hand along the top of his back to drop it on his opposite shoulder. He turns to her with a smile, “Hey, Beautiful. Where have you been?” “Oh, you know how Mr. Robinson is. He tells you he’ll be home by six and he comes home at nine. C’est la vie,” she complains. He laughs and guides her toward the keg near the bonfire. “Ahh, yes. The things you can do as a Kook. Don’t worry, we can get you caught up.” She nods, “I can only have one though. I’m DD tonight.”

After they get her drink, the two of them approach the speaker and begin to dance. His hands are on her hips, swaying with her movement and her head moves from side to side with her eyes closed. They are both caught up in the moment, so they don’t notice the pair of eyes trailing their every move. 

Rafe can’t stop staring at her. He never can. He pretends it’s because he is scrutinizing her; his heart disagrees—the blue flowers on her catch his eye first. The corset-like top deliciously hugs her curves and he wants to untie the little bow that rests between her bosom. His sight trails down her body to the skirt of her dress. Its flowing design stops him from being able to imagine what his head would look like between her thighs. The high slit does give him a small glimpse that makes him want more. He finds JJ’s hands on her hips and something grows in his heart. A green spot of envy. What is he doing? He shouldn’t care that Pogue is touching her. He hates her. He has to focus on something else. 

Luckily, Hailey sees him in the crowd and wanders over to him. She takes the hand that isn’t holding a cup and places it on her hips, dangerously close to her upper bum. He plays along with her, lowering his face to her neck. His lips ghost her skin. His gaze chances a look at Y/N. His envy flourishes and his grip on Hailey tightens. JJ’s mouth skims the shell of Y/N’s ear and she throws her head back with laughter. 

“I’m going to go take a wiz,” JJ informs the girl after making a joke about the Kooks beside them. She bobs her head and steps back. Kiara slips into the spot occupied by their friend and the girls dance together. 

A plan starts to form at the sight of the blonde’s departure. He keeps his distance while the Pogue dips into the wooded era of the beach. As soon as his enemy makes a reappearance, he rushes forward. “Dude, come quick. Something happened to Y/N,” Rafe advises. The boy is too drunk to question the older man and his concern overweights his suspicion. He follows Rafe, thinking nothing that he is being led back into the woods. 

———

It’s been a while since JJ has returned from going to the bathroom and Y/N begins to worry that he passed out somewhere. She navigates through the sea of people towards where she knows he likes to go to the bathroom when they are at the Boneyard. Her eyes scan every blond, yet she doesn’t detect the one she wants. At the edge of the crowd, she finally locates the man she wants; however, he isn’t in the same condition as he left her in. A purple bruise blooms around his eyes and a red cut on his lower lip drips down his chin. His unaffected knuckles mean he didn’t even get a punch in. “J-jay, what the fuck happened? Who did this?” she worries, taking his chin in her hands. She examines his injuries. “I thought falling face-first into a tree trunk would be fun,” he jokes. “Who do you think did this, Y/N/N? The only person who wants to do this on a fun night out instead of partying.” 

She isn’t surprised. Anger seeps into the back of her throat and she searches for the person she wants to let it out on. He is around the fire with Kelce and Topper. She storms over to him. Her finger digs into his chest and he backs him up against the rocks behind him. “Where do you get off?” she screams at him. He chuckles down at her, “Normally in my bedroom, but I’m not opposed to doing it in public if that’s what gets you going.”  She scoffs. “Please, I’d rather do it with a cactus before I let you anywhere near you.” He fakes a pout, “Aww, you want a partner with an exterior as prickly as your personality.”

Her hand goes up to grip the collar of his button-up. “I’m not fucking joking around, Rafe. Why the fuck did you beat JJ?” she interrogates. His frown turns irritated and he steps forward. “He is a Pogue. What other reason do I need?” he instigates. She shakes her head and lets go of him. “You know what. I don’t have time for your bullshit.” With her attention no longer on him, disappointment replaces his envy. He can’t let her leave. “Wait.” His hand wraps around her wrist and she stumbles backwards. “What?” she questions. She pivots in his direction with rage in her eyes. He lets go of her and steps back with his arms up. His mouth drops open. He stutters, “Uhh.” His brain panics and forgets all the words. She shakes her head and returns to her leaving. He goes into overdrive, taking her hand and dragging her to the parking lot. Out here, the music is muted here. She rips her hand out of his hold and uses it to slap him. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yells. He rubs the cheek she hit. All the words in the English language, yet he can’t seem to string enough of them together to tell her how he feels. 

“I love you?” The declaration sounds more like a question with Y/N spinning her eyes in their sockets. “You can’t be serious. If this is your new attempt at torture, then you have to work on the technique,” she quips, trying again to distance herself from her enemy.

The breath he lets out doesn’t match the length of his others. “August 12th, 2020. At two thirty-four pm, you walked into Bell’s Cafe with Kiara. Your tank top was a blue spaghetti strap tied at the back and your jeans were black with white embroidered flowers. You ordered a blueberry scone and blueberry mint iced tea. You and Kie sat at the booth by the window closest to the door.” 

She interrupts him, “What does this have to do with anything?” He doesn’t acknowledge her inference. “She asked you how you felt about entering your senior year and you told her that you felt confident you would get into Harvard, especially if you spent most of your time doing Student Council work. She thinks she pieces together where he is going. “So you decide you would make my life hard to mess with my chances,” she assumes. His head swings, “No. No. Will you let me finish, please?” He waits for a response and she motions with her hand to continue.

“You like the colour blue and anything to do with it. You bite the back of your pen whenever you are in thought. A habit you are trying to stop. You like to listen to audiobooks in the car. I know those things because everything you do catches my attention and everything I do is to get yours.”

She finally hits the bullseyes, “You took the Presidency so that I would notice you?” Hearing her say it out loud makes him feel childish. His hand cups the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s stupid, I know. You were out of my league and my horny ass brain could only think of idiotic ways to be seen by you. You can’t say it didn’t work though,” he admits. She chuckles, “You really think I want to be in a relationship with you after you jeopardized my chances at getting into Harvard and have made my friends’ lives a living hell.” He steps closer to her, boxing her in against the car behind her. His head lowers to mimic the placement of JJ’s. “I think you like that I light a fire in your heart. I think every hateful stare we exchange is to mask our desire. I think that if I put my hand up your dress and under your panties, my fingers are going to come back soaking,” he says while his hand goes dangerously close to her entrance. “Shall I test the theory?”

His gaze bores into hers, anticipating an answer. He catches the small dip in her head and fulfills his requests. As expected, his fingers come in contact with a wet substance. He brings it up to his lips and sucks it into his mouth. His mouth drops back close to her ear, “Look at that, you are as wet as I thought you’d be. As sweet too. Reminds me of blueberry scones, except better.” His hand falls behind her near her rests and cups the doorhandle. He pulls it open, taking her back off the vehicle to shove her in. 

A thud resonates in her ears and she crawls back to lie down on the car seat. “Can I have another taste, Pretty Lady?” he begs, his eyes flicking down to her crotch. She exhales, “Yes.” He tuts and places his hand on her soft stomach. “That’s not how you ask politely.” She sneers at him, closing her legs and sitting up. “If you want to be that way, then I’ll find someone else to take care of me. Maybe someone with a better track record,” she postulates. She reaches for the handle. He grabs her wrist and spins her to face him again. He growls, “You are going to regret that.” He pushes her back against the seat, throwing her legs over his shoulders. The hem of her dress pools at her waist and her blue lacy thong is revealed. He groans at the wet spot forming. He drags it down his legs and throws it to his back seat. His eyes peek to where it lands. He grins when he sees they are wrapped around his gear shift. Those aren’t going anywhere. 

Her bare pussy shines up at him; he licks his lips in apprehension of his meal. His head dives in, making contact with the sweet substance. She jerks forward in a moan and her fingers attempt to grip his shaved head. The smirk he wears presses against her. The slurping that fills the car is pornographic. She whines at the release of pressure. His chin glistens as he looks up at her, “See, Pretty Lady. You can’t listen to what random people say. You have to get the facts from the source yourself.” Her plump pout has him chuckling and he squeezes her thick thighs. 

He focuses on her bud, sucking and nipping like his life depends on it. His saliva pools at the edge of his lip and it drops at the edge of her entrance. He places his tongue inside of her, curling towards him. Her walls start to coil around him. His fingers pass through his mouth and jam them into her hole at a fast pace. This unravels her and she constricts around him, making it hard for him to pull out. His hand rests on the mound above her clit. He messages the skin and she releases a bit to make it easier for him to remove his fingers. He rises from between her legs. His lips press against hers and she tastes herself on him, causing a need to regrow against her. He grinds his closed hard-on against her. “You did so good, Pretty Lady. You make such pretty sounds,” he murmurs to her. “I’m going to fuck you so dumb that everyone knows who you belong to now. Whether that be from how loud you scream tonight or you start singing my praise or your belly rounds with my baby. You are mine.” 

One hand is used to take off his belt and he yanks down his underwear with his pants. “You ready, Pretty Lady?” he confirms with his eyes on her. She circles her arms around his neck to bring him near her face and connect their lips. “Fuck me right now, or I’m going to go tell everyone that you can’t even find the hole.” A snicker passes his lips and he lines himself with her entrance. He doesn’t give a warning this time as his hips slam forward, causing their pelvic bones to be flushed. He sits up and raises her hips. The new angle mixed with the pace of his pistoning gets his tip where it needs to be to cause her the maximum amount of pleasure. “You are doing so well, Pretty Lady. You are going to make the best mama for our baby. Can’t wait to see you get all round,” he praises. 

His thumb reaches her bud and rubs it clockwise. “Harder,” she orders him, bucking her hips up to meet his motion. He grabs the headrest to anchor himself and drags his cock out so that his tip rests inside of her. His re-entrance is swift and with a harder force than before. “You feel so good, Pretty Lady,” he moans. “I’m not going to last.” She feels the warning jerk that confirms the truth of his words. She clenches around him, helping him to the edge. He spasms inside of her and rides out his high. His limp dick comes out and he is about to lean forward to help her to her second release when she stops him. She uses her hand to bring him up with a shake of her head. “What’s wrong? You didn’t finish, so I was gonna help you out. Can’t have you running around telling people I can’t make you come,” he jokes, trying to get back to work. She kisses him. “It’s okay. I don’t need that right now. All I want is for you to hold me.” He grins at her words and flips them over so she is on top of him. Her head is on his chest. The car is silent and the windows are fogged over from the activities that were happening inside. She decides to get one last word in, “And for you to apologize to JJ.” His grumble has her laughing into the night. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 12

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, allusions to toxic parents, description of murder (in a joking fashion), flashback scene, some descriptions from ellie's POV, descriptions of marijuana and marijuana usage, allusions to toxic ex-friends, slightly sexual behaviour, minors do not interact

word count: 9.2k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

“Oh, I don’t know, Abs…” 

“Hey, like I said, no pressure at all.” 

You’re sprawled out on your bed with your homework spread out on your sheets which you’ve completely abandoned as you’d spent the last half hour chatting on the phone with Abby. 

It’s been exactly four days since your night out with her and her friends at the lesbian bar, Bow and Arrow. Exactly four days since unexpectedly you ran into your ex-fling from freshman year, Adriana. Exactly four days since you drunkenly rejected Abby’s sudden and attempted kiss. Exactly four days since you visited the same alleyway where you had your first kiss with Ellie Williams. 

Being the perfect gentlemanwoman that she always was, Abby had insisted on taking you home herself that night. You’d reassured her that you could easily order a rideshare service to take you home if needed, but she argued that it was her fault that you had tequila in your system in the first place and that she’d feel much more at ease if she definitively saw you enter the front door of your apartment with her own two eyes. Her thoughtfulness and persistence won out in the end, and at around 2 A.M., she respectfully greeted you good night as you tipsily crossed the threshold of your apartment. 

As you waved her goodbye, a sinking sense of shame settled at the seat of your stomach. Despite your brush-off to her advances, Abby remained completely sweet and amicable for the rest of the night. Her demeanour didn’t seem to change, though there were no more attempts to steal another kiss from you again. The feeling of remorse soberly persisted into the following day, and you’d remorsefully texted Abby the morning after to offer lengthy sorries for your rejection. Ever a well-mannered woman of honour, she easily accepted your many apologies and, in turn, apologized for attempting to kiss you while neither of you was completely sober. Your “friendship” with Abby remained untainted, much to your relief. 

But now, exactly four days later, you’ve been once again placed in yet another uncomfortable predicament.  Abby had just invited you out to dinner with her that following Friday night at a restaurant called Orchards. Though never having actually set foot in the place, you’d seen just in passing how extravagant and fancy the establishment was. It was never a restaurant you considered ever patronizing, and as Abby attempts to persuade you to accompany her for dinner, you feel your entire body begin to react in complete hysteria. You try to convince yourself that your rapidly beating heart and extreme nausea were merely nervous reactions to being suddenly asked out on an obvious date, not at all from the fact that Orchards is a mere block and corner away from the apartment that Jesse and Ellie shared. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” You insist. “It’s just that… I mean, are you sure?” 

“Sure about what?” 

“I don’t know… that you wanna be asking me out on a date.” 

“Doesn’t have to be an official date if you don’t want it to be,” She says. “It can just be two friends going out on a Friday night for a nice dinner together and having a fun time.” 

“At a super fancy restaurant?” 

“Hey, I’m a really good friend.” 

You can’t help but giggle at Abby’s cheekiness. 

From experience alone, you have a gut feeling somehow that if you were to decline Abby’s invitation, she wouldn’t hold it against you. You could choose to once again remain within the sanctuary of your platonic comfort zone, a sanctuary that you’d grown far too comfortable in for the past couple of years. But Abby was genuinely sweet and so thoughtful and incredibly handsome, and she’d been so very good to you so far. Suddenly, wise words from both Dina and Jesse come back to you and echo within your mind. 

“Don’t let her stop you from enjoying your life.” 

“I also think that you deserve to be happy. And unfortunately, that means putting yourself out there.” 

Trying to hold back from letting out an audible sigh, you finally give Abby a reply. 

“Alright.” 

“Oh?” 

“Alright.” You repeat, smiling slightly. 

“Is that a yes?” Abby asks. 

“It’s a yes,” You giggle. “Now whether it’s a friend date or a real date…” 

“Hey, I’ll take whatever I can get,” Abby laughs. “You don’t have to decide now. Hell, you can even decide during dessert while we’re actually at the restaurant.” 

“You’re cute.” You chuckle. 

“Oh, I know.” You swear you can hear Abby’s cocky smirk through the phone. 

“So, Friday at 7?” You confirm. 

“If that works for you. Do you want me to come pick you up from your place?” 

You seriously consider her generous offer. A small part of you knows that there is every chance that you would end up bailing in total anxiety if you weren’t essentially escorted to the date. Part of you also begins to worry that you’d immediately look out of place if you walked in alone without Abby and her usual charm & swagger by your side. But you then remember that Abby’s apartment is only five minutes away from the restaurant and yours was fifteen and in the complete opposite direction; your unrelenting unwillingness to inconvenience her ultimately makes the decision for you. 

“Oh, it’s okay! I can just meet you there.” You exclaim. 

“You sure? I totally don’t mind coming to get you.” 

“Abby.” You say in a playfully stern manner. 

“I know, I know,” Abby chuckles. “You’re a big girl.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I am.” 

Suppressing from loudly exhaling in both relief and tension, you finally remember and notice all of the unfinished homework still laid out right in front of you. 

“Anyway, just text me all the details later. I’ve got a shit ton of homework that I’ve been procrastinating on, and you’ve kind of been sidetracking me from completing any of  it.” 

“My apologies, it was not my intention to be so distracting.” 

“Yes, it was.” 

“Okay, maybe a little.” 

You both laugh. 

“Alright, alright,” Abby complies. “I’ll let you get to it. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Don’t you have class at like, 8?” 

“I can skip it so I can walk you to your 9 A.M.” 

“Abigail, go to your classes.” 

“Fine,” She chuckles. “I’ll be a good student, I guess. Always so eager to be rid of me.” 

“Abby Anderson, I swear to god—“ 

“Kidding, kidding!” 

“I’ll text you later, then.” You say. 

“Sounds good. Good luck with your homework.” 

“Thanks. Good night, Abs.” 

“Good night, pretty girl.” 

You tap the red button at the bottom of your screen, subsequently ending the call. 

Sighing, you flop onto your back and stare at your prickly white ceiling. Your eyes zoom in and out of focus as your mind recaps the conversation you just had with the blonde, blue-eyed woman. 

Did I just agree to go out with Abby? 

Do I really want to do this? 

This is gonna be so, so different from the other night. We were with her friends. She’s inviting me out to be with her and only her. 

It’s going to be a date, no matter what she says. 

I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing anymore. 

Am I doing this because I want to do it? Or is it because I feel like I should? 

She doesn’t even know what she’s taking on, trying to date me. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. She’s way too nice, too sweet for me. 

Can I really do this? 

As your internal monologue quickly fatigues both your mind and your emotions, you nearly pass out before the panic of not finishing your schoolwork jolts you awake once again. 

 “What about this one?” 

“No, it hugs my thighs really weird…” 

“First of all, it does not. Second, why do you even have it in the first place, then?!” 

“Sentimental value, D!” 

You had invited Dina over that Wednesday evening to help you settle on an outfit to wear for your date-not-a-date in two days. You’d finally relented to telling Dina about your situation with Abby and how on the fence you’ve been in regards to starting anything romantic and real with her. To your surprise, Dina was a lot less judgier than you had been anticipating and much more understanding. She was just as supportive as she was the day she came over with the cup of coffee and advice regarding your messy situation with Ellie. She even enthusiastically invited herself over, accurately predicting that you were already far too hesitant and anxious to properly plan for Friday night. 

You snatch the white dress Dina had been holding out for you from her hands and throw it onto your bed. 

“If we can’t find actually anything suitable for me to wear, maybe it’s a sign from the universe that I should cancel on Abby.” 

“The hell it is!” Dina scolds. “You are going on this date, even if I have to go out right now and buy you a whole new outfit myself!” 

“I just don’t think I actually have anything good enough for Orchards! I’m gonna go there and look like a freaking shabby peasant, and Abby will take one look at me and immediately collapse on the spot over how disgustingly and horrifically ugly I look.” You flop onto your bed next to the pile of rejects you’d adamantly denied earlier in the evening. 

“Did you really just say ‘peasant’? What are you, eighty?” Dina rolls her eyes at your dramatics. “And if Abby Anderson passes out on the spot for any reason, it’ll only be because you will be so stunning and gorgeous and ravishing and elegant that she just couldn’t consciously handle your natural beauty.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, D!” You laugh, picking up the white dress Dina was holding previously and lobbing it at her face. 

Dina laughs as she effortlessly catches it before placing it back on top of the reject pile. She then saunters back into your walk-in closet to continue examining its contents. 

“Maybe if we build your date outfit from—” 

“Not a date.” 

“—your date outfit from an accessory or a pair of shoes or something. Do you have a pair of heels that you were thinking of wearing?” 

You give her an apprehensive look.

“What do you think, D?” 

“Of course. Be helpful for two seconds, babe.” 

“Ugh!” 

You lift your head slightly to watch her venture further into your closet from the comfort of your bed. 

“I have a whole bunch of other shoes on the top shelf over there,” You say, pointing in the direction of a wall-mounted shelf above your clothes arranged on hangers. “Some of them are still in their shoe boxes, though, so you better put them back properly after and line them up exactly the way I had them.” 

“Anal.” Dina scoffs, smiling. “Why are they still in their boxes?” 

“Some of them were stupid, impulse purchases that I immediately regretted but was too lazy to return,” You explain, dropping your head back onto your bed. “Others are a bunch of ugly and uncomfortable shoes that my mother bought me and that I have to lie about wearing regularly and that I’m definitely not allowed to get rid of, lest she murders me in cold blood with her own two hands.” 

“So when are we going to finally end the miserable existence of that horrible woman again, exactly?” 

“When I figure out exactly how to get away with murder.” 

Dina smirks as she grabs a small step stool hidden in a corner of your closet. 

“Hey, if Barbie Bear had actually come to life when I asked her to all those years ago, you would have been free from that witch’s clutches by now.” Dina huffs as she begins to peek into the shoe boxes neatly arranged on the top shelf of your closet. 

“Speaking of Barbie Bear,” You suddenly segue, still staring up at the ceiling of your apartment. “I still want her back, by the way.” 

“I told you fifty million times already that I don’t have her!” 

“Bullshit,” You counter. “I know I left her at your house summer after freshman year I came home with you guys.” 

“Babe, it’s been like, well over a year now. I promise that I don’t have her, and I seriously haven’t seen her anywhere in my house back home.” 

“I’m planning on pressing charges against you for kidnapping my child and for causing such catastrophic emotional distress as a result of the trauma of many years of motherly separation from my daughter.” 

“Such a fucking drama queen.” Dina chuckles as she continues her footwear search. 

“Dinaaaa,” You whine. “You know that Raf gave her to me—” 

“Uhhh…” Dina abruptly interrupts. “What the hell is this?” 

“What?” 

“What is this box?” Dina asks, climbing down the step stool with something in one hand. 

“Hmm?” You finally rise from your position and prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at what she was referring to. 

Dina slowly emerges from your closet holding something heavy in her hands. It looks like a shoe box at first glance; but upon further inspection, it looks quite different from the other containers that it was previously organized with. Dina reveals a dark blue memory box adorned with intricately drawn vines and flowers. On one side was a tiny strip of paper with the word “El” written in small golden ink. 

Your fingers go cold, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes widen. The absolute panicked expression on your face complements Dina’s expression of complete astonishment. 

“Oh, shit.” You mutter involuntarily. 

“Sooo…” Dina begins. “You’ve got… an Ellie box.” 

Knowing Dina very well, you figure that, at the very least, she already snuck a quick peek at its contents. You sigh, aware that lying to her face would be pointless. 

“Y-yeah. I’ve got an Ellie box.” 

Dina’s mouth drops open even further, and you groan in total embarrassment at her elated squeals of your name laced with amusement and intrigue. 

“An Ellie box!!! Oh my god! Scandalous! Outrageous! Somebody call the Vatican!” Dina exclaims happily, a shit-eating grin wide all over her face. 

“Dinaaaa…” You gripe. “Put it back right now!” 

“Absolutely not, you slut!” She excitedly cries as she plops herself down next to you on the bed, carelessly pushing your pile of discarded clothes further to the side. “This is the best day of my whole life.” 

“Dina!” You smack her arm but make no real attempts to pull the box away from her, knowing you wouldn’t win that very brief fight. 

“You’re the one who still has it!” She points out smugly. “And after you swore to me the other week that you are definitely not in love with Ellie anymore.” 

“I’m not!” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” She simply waves you off as she removes the lid. “Keep telling yourself that, babe.” 

You fall back onto your sheets, shrouding your face behind your hands in shame as Dina giggles giddily to herself. 

You try in vain to convince yourself that you’d completely forgotten you even had the memory box in the first place, that it was something you’d meant to get rid of ages ago but merely never gotten around to. It was shoved, after all, in between all the pairs of shoes you never touch, always closed and completely neglected. But the brutally honest part of your conscience knows that its continued existence in your closet is a representation of something you desperately try to keep buried deep within the corners of your mind.  

Unable to help yourself, you cautiously peek behind your hands to observe Dina’s extensive inspection of your secret Ellie box. You watch as she picks up several pieces of paper: a faded ticket stub from a show Ellie once took you to of a local band whose music she wanted to introduce you to, a receipt from the time that you and Ellie attended a limited portrait exhibition at a nearby art museum, an unfinished charcoal picture Ellie had drawn of a small field of blooming daisies you’d spotted when you’d gone with her to the woods to freely smoke in secret. 

You try to block out the images the box’s contents were involuntarily eliciting from memories you’d hidden long ago as Dina places the papers back in lieu of a stack of envelopes wrapped together with a thin piece of twine. A gentle smile appears on Dina’s face as she tenderly turns the handwritten letters back and forth between her hands. 

“You know,” She says quietly. “Ellie used to really love whenever you wrote her these letters to her. Jesse and I used to catch her rereading them all the time, even super old ones you’d written her months before.” 

You quickly feel your entire body burn hot with a sweltering sensation that you hadn’t let yourself fully feel in years. 

Fall of Freshman Year 

The university that you’d chosen to reside in for the next four years was chosen partially for its distance away from your hometown, from your parents in particular. Longing to be liberated from their tyrannical control, you applied exclusively to schools that were no less than a hundred miles away. Not a week into your freshman year, however, the guilt of choosing to be so far away from your favourite cousin ate at you every second you were apart. To give Rafael something tangible to consistently remind him of you, you’d send handwritten letters to him through the mail at least twice a month while you attended college. Though you’d chat with him regardless through texts and video on a regular basis, you enjoyed showering him with sisterly love in your own sweet and corny way.  

Ellie was sprawled out on your bed one night while you sat at your rickety, battered student desk. She was busying herself by rolling a few joints, all packed with lavender buds you’d previously provided, and placing them in her metal tin. As she placed the last one next to the others and put another in between her lips, she hopped off your bed and came to hover nosily behind you. 

“Are you really doing homework this late?” 

“Shut up and go finish rolling so we can smoke already.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Not my homework.” 

“Then what?” 

Ellie curiously leaned over your shoulder and watched the way your hand smoothly and speedily glided over your favourite piece of floral stationary, writing legibly your own blend of print and cursive. To the right of your paper was a small white envelope with both your name and Rafael’s written on the front accompanied by your respective addresses. To the left was a golden stamp seal of a sunflower and a tiny mason jar full of multicoloured wax beads. 

“Are you writing a letter? With your hands?” 

“I mean, how else are you supposed to write a letter, El?” 

“What kind of nerdy ass nonsense—” 

“Go roll our shit, Ellie Williams!” You interrupted, taking a pencil within your reach and flicking it at her. 

She chuckled, blocking it in time before it hit her directly in the face. She placed it back on your desk before picking up the sunflower seal and examining it closely. 

“You’re writing an actual letter, for real?” She asked, her lips still tight with the joint in between her lips. 

“Mhmm.” You hummed. 

“To your cousin?” 

“Yup.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I feel like it.” 

“That’s some shit that only senile, lonely grandmas do on their grandkid’s birthday when they’re sending them fifty bucks in cash.” Ellie teased as she placed the sunflower stamp back on your desk. 

“So, what?” 

“So, you’re even more of a nerd than I thought.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Hey, not my fault that you’re an old lady.” 

“Can you go finish rolling our joints so we can smoke already?” 

“I’m already done, grandma!” 

“Then go away and hush!” 

Ellie chuckled as she leaned against your desk and took out a lighter from a front pocket of her jeans. She moved to ignite the tip of the joint, but you smacked her arm and pointed towards your bed. 

“Sploof, sploof, sploof!!!” You demanded. 

“What? Tara won’t care about the smell. She smells like weed half the time herself.” 

“My RA will notice, though! I don’t wanna get kicked out in my first year of college just ‘cause you’re lazy!” 

“Thought that the whole point of your lavender shit was to mask the weed smell.” 

You didn’t reply and settled for looking at her with a stern glare. She laughed and mockingly held up both her hands in defeat. 

“Alright, alright! Stick-in-the-mud.” 

She walked over to your bed, plopping back down and reaching for the paper towel roll that she’d wrapped securely with duct tape and stuffed with several dryer sheets. After lighting the joint and taking a deep hit, she exhaled deeply into the cylindrical piece of cardboard. Her ocean green eyes remained fixated on you, fixated on concluding your letter. 

“So why are you sending Rafael snail mail? Don’t you guys talk like, almost every day?” 

“We do. But it’s just something I really love doing. Makes me feel connected with him in more than one way, you know?” 

Ellie merely hummed in acknowledgement as you continued your explanation. 

“I used to do it a lot back in high school for the friends I had at the time. Or at least I did until my parents made me stop when they complained about me using up all their stamps.” 

“Dicks.” Ellie chuckled. “Did any of your friends ever write you back?” 

“No,” You said simply. “I totally get it though. We saw each other every single day at school. It makes sense for them not to send some handwritten reply through the mail.” 

Your expression looked completely and genuinely unbothered, but Ellie frowned. 

“That was pretty rude of them.” She pointed out. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I never thought it was. I didn’t do it to get anything back from them or anything. Just did it ‘cause I really cared about my friends and wanted to show that in my way. It was sort of like my own kind of love language.” 

Ellie continued to watch you in total awe as you folded up the stationary and stuffed it into the envelope. You thoughtfully picked out a couple of wax beads from the mason jar, two violet and one silver, and placed them on a tiny spoon that you placed on top of a mahogany wax warmer. You turned around to face her, one hand held out in her direction. 

“Can I borrow your lighter, El?” You asked. 

Ellie, still mesmerized by your routine, blinked in disorientation. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Your lighter, dummy. Can I use it for a sec?” 

“O-oh, y-yeah.” 

She’d completely forgotten about the lit joint still placed between her lips. After quickly inhaling from the cigarette and exhaling into the sploof, she shoved a hand into her jean pocket once again and handed you her lighter. She ignored the subtle electricity that sparked between you when her fingertips brushed against yours. 

She observed the way you carefully lit the white tealight candle inside the wax warmer and stared at the way the beads slowly melted inside the small spoon. Clearing her throat and finally handing you the joint, she leaned back onto your pillows and tried to lighten the mood. 

“So, you’re allowed to a candle in your dorm room, but I can’t even smoke?” 

“Asshole, I’m literally smoking with you right now.” You pointed out before bringing the joint to your lips and relighting the tip. 

“I’m just saying, double standard.” Ellie shrugged. 

“Wh—double standard? Does anything you say ever make any sense?” You asked with tight lips, hysterically flapping a hand in the direction of the sploof next to her on the bed. 

She laughed and quickly handed it to you, once again ignoring that flicker of electricity at your touch. 

“I love being an enigma to all human beings.” 

“Fucking weirdo.” You replied after exhaling into the wrapped paper towel roll. 

Ellie gave you a cocky wink, and you ignored the feverish burning of your cheeks. 

“So,” She began as you suck from the joint once more. “Am I ever going to receive one of these  fancy ass letters of yours?” 

“What? What for?” 

“I don’t know; just wanna see all the fuss is about.” 

“I see you every day, El. We literally live on the same campus.” 

“So, what? I still want one.” 

“You just said it was an old lady activity.” 

“It is.” 

“You’re not helping your case by being mean to me, you know.” 

You handed the joint and sploof back to Ellie and turned your uncomfortable desk chair around to lean back into it and face her directly. 

“You wouldn’t want one, anyway. It’s almost always all corny and sentimental.” 

“I mean, I expected as much. Have you met you?” Ellie gestured to you with the joint between her fingers. 

You playfully stick your tongue at her. 

“You are a rude and blunt asshole, El. Corny and sentimental aren’t really your thing.” 

“Fine!” Ellie jokingly conceded after taking a huge hit of the joint. “I didn’t really want one, anyway!” 

You rolled your eyes at her petulant and whiny expression. Ellie finished off the rest of the joint as you delicately poured the melted wax onto the envelope and sealed it with the sunflower stamp. 

Despite having just made lighthearted fun of you for it, the small smile on Ellie’s lips contradicted her prior teasing. She adored watching you perform such a personal ritual, and she felt special to be given your natural, instinctive trust by comfortably allowing her to witness such an intimate act. 

Out of sheer stubbornness and defiance on your part, you gave Ellie her very own handwritten letter the following day. You found some time during your day to slip it underneath her door in between your classes, and you quickly scampered off before either she or Jesse came home. You were still a bit huffy over her playful teasing the previous night, and you wanted to tease her back in your own way. 

To your slight surprise, Ellie was completely amused and ecstatic by your act of indignation. She eagerly opened the small, white envelope with her name written in golden cursive on the front, carefully avoiding ripping the fancy seal you’d closed the letter with: a forest green wax seal with hints of gold, embellished with a pair of ferns that notably matched that of her forearm tattoo. 

Inside the envelope was a simple, small piece of paper with only seven words written on it: “you are so, so mean to me,”  followed by a tiny sad face. 

You would have never guessed that her silly jabs at your sentimentality would establish a special ritual between you and Ellie. You were entertained by how truly thrilled Ellie had found her first letter that, on a frequent basis, you would sneakily slip formally sealed envelopes under her door or drop them inside her designated mail slot or hide them underneath her pillow with a short handwritten letter inside written in jest. But somewhere along the way, the little inside jokes eventually turned into genuine letters of you enthusiastically talking about innermost thoughts you’d be having at the time or words of loving encouragement when you knew she was having a particularly bad day. Your little confidences only for her eyes that were hidden by different wax seals, whether it be a bumblebee or a daisy or her token ferns, brought her a sense of comfort she could never quite comprehend. 

During that summer after your freshman year, you’d continued to regularly write her letters. But as she began to pull away from you, they never reached her as you became reluctant to actually present them. She sequentially stayed ignorant of their existence after you’d broken it all off with her.

But despite how horribly heart-wrenching the end of the whole affair was, you kept the letters anyway. You’d even composed several letters in the months following as a sorry means to ease your grief, confessing all the sentiments and feelings you wished you could have fully expressed to her but never got the chance to.

Some were furious and indignant over how she had been treating you that summer; others were wistful and nostalgic over the connection you’d believed you had with her but lost completely; each just as miserable as the next. Just as you were so unhealthily attached to the letters previously written to her, you couldn’t bear to throw out these melancholy ones. You settled instead on hiding them away, never meant to be seen by anyone else.

You watch as Dina delicately runs her fingers over the different wax seals you’d used to close the envelopes, a kind but thoughtful look on her face. She sighs before speaking. 

“I really wished things worked out between the two of you, you know. Still do.” 

“I know, D.” 

She turns back to look at you, a sad smile still etched on her lips. 

“Still won’t tell me anything about what happened at the end of that summer? You still never told me and Jess. Hasn’t enough time passed?” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, babe.” You sigh, shaking your head. 

“I guess not,” Dina says, turning back around to place the letters in the box. “Just wish you’d talk to me about it, even just a little bit.” 

Even now, you feel immense guilt over your unrelenting reluctance to reveal to Dina and Jesse what really transpired when Ellie dropped you off at home after your summer in Jackson. It had been consistently painful over the years not to confide in your closest friends, especially when you know just how badly they’ve always wanted to give you the comfort you so desired. But tarnishing the couple’s view of their childhood best friend after all this time feels pointless and immature, and you know you would never be able to forgive yourself if this subsequently caused a rift between the trio. 

 “I don’t want to have to bring it up again…” Dina asks quietly. “But I just feel like I need to ask you this once more.” 

“What is it, babe?” You reply, already aware of the question that looms obviously and ominously. 

“Do you really believe that you’re not still in love with Ellie?” She inquires. 

“I only have that box in my closet because I didn’t want to keep it at home for my parents to find and make a big fuss over. They barely know of Ellie’s existence in my life.” You respond quickly, making a deliberate attempt to avoid giving her an actual answer. 

“But why do you still even have it in the first place?” 

“Just forgot I even had it in there, you know.” You shrug, getting up from the bed to approach your walk-in closet. “Like I said, it’s stuffed in with all this other shit I never touch anyway. Literally forgot it still even existed until you brought it out just now.” 

Dina watches as you evade her probing gaze by getting up from your position on the bed to rifle through your hung clothes in the closet. She always had an uncanny way of reading people’s emotions, no matter how deeply others attempted to conceal them. Unwilling to let her delve deeper into whatever feelings you had in regards to Ellie, especially right before a date-not-a-date with Abby, you select several random articles of clothing from your closet and hold them up in front of Dina’s face to view. 

“Okay, I feel like these are good contenders for tonight. Which one do you think is classy and fancy enough for Orchards?” 

You take a nervous step through the cherry wood entrance that leads into Orchards, wearing a light purple dress with strappy, silver heels to match. You cling tightly to the tiny handbag between your hands like your life depends on it. Exhaling deeply with your old therapy breathing techniques, you approach the wooden podium stationed several feet from the doorway. 

“Hi, umm,” You utter nervously. “I-I’m still waiting for the rest of my party, but the reservation should be under ‘Anderson’ for 7 o’clock?” 

The host scans the booklet before finding Abby’s name on the list. 

“I-I can definitely wait until she gets here, though! I can hang out in the vestibule. I totally don’t mind at all—” You stammer before the host interrupts. 

“Oh, reservation for Miss Abigail Anderson? I see it right here. Your companion has actually already arrived just a few minutes ago..” 

“O-oh, okay!” You say surprised. “I-I had no idea.” 

“Not a problem, ma’am. She came not too long ago. I can show you to your table if you would like to follow me.” The host replies graciously, grabbing a menu from underneath the podium before escorting you further into the restaurant. 

You tail after him, trying desperately to keep the sound of your heels clicking to a minimum but nearly tripping in the process. 

The interior of the restaurant surpasses the quick glances you’d stolen in passing from the adjoining street. If you had been born and raised to be an upper-class socialite who frequented such fine dining establishments, you’re sure you’d have felt quite at home upon stepping into the place. The tables are all neatly set with white tablecloths and golden napkins folded precisely and neatly at the top of the plates. The maroon Fleur-de-Lis seating is all dimly lit by the modern beaded chandeliers hanging over the patrons. Servers skillfully weave throughout the place, all coordinated in their white button-down shirts and black slacks. Your tiny handbag nearly slips out of your icy grip from how slippery your fingers had gotten with sweat. 

The restless intimidation that the establishment so easily oozed is slightly soothed when you catch sight of a familiar smiling blonde woman standing next to a table by the windows. The anxiety you have been feeling since entering Orchards is then replaced with a different type of tension as your eyes meet Abby’s piercing sky blue ones. 

She’s wearing a muted green shirt with a pair of grey slacks. Her dirty blonde hair is in its usual braid, but it appears looser than it usually is. You try not to stare at the way her muscular arms bulge from her shirt, trying to avert your eyes elsewhere. 

When you reach the table and whisper a “thank you” to the host as he places your menu next to your plate before he walks away, you return Abby’s winning smile with a flustered one of your own. She holds an arm out for you to give her a small, one-armed hug in greeting. 

“Hey, Abs,” You say as you briefly embrace her. “Have you been waiting long? I thought you said we were supposed to be meeting at 7.” 

“Well, I technically made the reservation for 6:45.” Abby replies, grinning at you unapologetically. 

“What the hell, Abby!” You scold, playfully smacking her left bicep before reaching for your seat. 

“I just like being prepared and being earlier than other people.” Abby shrugs, holding her hand out to help you into your chair as she pulls it out for you. 

“Jesus,” You chuckle as you roll your eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how that’s kind of lunatic behaviour, Abigail?” 

Abby merely smirks as she pushes your chair in for you, you murmuring a thanks in response. 

“So, what do you think of the place?” Abby asks as she walks around the table to take a seat in her own chair. 

“For a date-or-not-a-date, this is very extravagant.” You point out. 

“Like I told you before, I’m a really good friend.” Abby shrugs again. “Am I not allowed to treat a friend to a nice, well-deserved dinner?” 

“Abby.” You chide. “There’s no way that I’m letting you pay the whole bill by yourself. I know that this is a pretty pricey place.” 

“Yeah, and I have the money for it. Get whatever you want, pretty girl. What’s the point of having money if you’re not going to spend it on other people?” 

You don’t say anything, settling for merely pursing your lips as you take the neatly folded golden napkin off your plate and place it on top of your lap. 

Orchards being a “four dollar sign” type of restaurant is a partial reason why you remained silent. Not coming from money as Abby does, you’d firmly decided prior to the dinner that you were going to order the cheapest appetizer on the menu as an entrée and that you’d drink nothing else but water. But knowing Abby, she’d order every single dish for you until you actually eat a proper meal, especially after her casual yet firm declaration. 

But as you open up your menu and nervously bite the inside of your cheek, Abby’s last words begin to ring inside your ears. 

“What’s the point of having money if you’re not going to spend it on other people?” 

This was a sentence and philosophy that those around Ellie knew her quite well for. Every food delivery, every coffee order, every glass of vodka cranberry was paid for with Ellie’s hefty dealer income. You didn’t bother arguing with her when it came to it, not towards the end, because it was a pointless fight she would win every time. Despite every eye roll you’d throw her way, your heart would flutter every time you’d get a glimpse of the small, secret smile Ellie donned each time she’d spend her money on someone else. As long as those she cared about were happy, Ellie was happy. 

To see the same kind of propriety in someone else disoriented you, especially someone who has been making her romantic intentions with you quite clear. It’s a trait you so admire in Abby, but a reminder of the auburn-haired woman on a date-not-a-date with another person still pierces something deep within your guts. 

Adamant on keeping your mind off of Ellie for the rest of the night, you busy yourself going through Orchards’ lavish menu. 

“Have you been here before?” You ask Abby as you scan the list of soups and salads. 

“Once,” She replies as she goes through her own menu. “My aunt and uncle brought me here last year for my birthday, and I haven’t stopped thinking about their truffle parmesan tots since.” 

“Yeah? They that good?” 

“Oh, most definitely. I was ready to make love to it right there and then on the table.” 

“Eww! Abby!!” You giggle, squinting your eyes and scrunching up your nose in simultaneous disgust and laughter. 

You and Abby spend the next few minutes on small talk as you finish deciding on your order. Abby is in the middle of telling you about how she nearly elbowed a teammate right in the jaw during her last rugby practice earlier in the week when your phone begins to vibrate from inside your tiny handbag. 

You keep your eyes focused mostly on your companion, intent on being present in the conversation, while your fingers silently fish your phone out of your purse. Your gaze briefly diverts to the lit screen, and your eyebrows furrow when you see that it’s Jesse who’s calling you. 

Quickly pushing down your power button to reject the call for now while you make a mental note to call him back later, you shove your phone back into your handbag. You lean forward further and place your hands underneath your chin to make a show of being attentive, but only a few seconds pass before your phone starts to pulsate within your purse again. 

Suppressing an obvious groan of simultaneous annoyance and concern, you attempt to ignore Jesse’s second call and instead try to listen to the rest of Abby’s story. But when her sky blue eyes distractingly fall onto your purse, you sigh dejectedly and reluctantly pull your phone out once again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” You desperately utter as you reject the call again. “It’s Jesse. Not sure why he’s calling me right now.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna pick up? Might be something important.” Abby asks, eyes full of honest concern. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just call him back after—” You begin to say as your phone vibrates for a third time, violently begging for immediate recognition in your hand. 

“Don’t worry,” Abby chuckles. “Go ahead and answer it. He’s your friend and I know he’s important to you.” 

“I’m so, so sorry, Abby,” You say, awkwardly scrambling out of your seat with your phone in your hand. “He never, ever calls me like this, so I swear that I’m just gonna see what’s up, and then I’ll come right—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Abby interrupts, smiling. “I don’t mind at all, I promise. I’ll be right here. Take your time.” 

“You really are the best, Abs,” You sigh. “If the server comes around before I get back, could you get me the Caesar salad with Italian dressing?” 

Abby gives you another kind smile and nods. You give her a gracious look before dashing towards the direction of the restroom, purposely leaving your purse behind as an unspoken promise of your eventual return. 

You let out a heavy sigh after having swiftly glided through the restaurant and shut yourself in a unisex stall. Getting more nervous by the second, you immediately call the raven-haired man back. His delayed response begins to worry you further while you listen to seven agonizingly elongated rings before he eventually picks up. 

“Oh, hey, my dude! What’s up?” Jesse greets nonchalantly, slightly out of breath. 

“Wh-what—” You stutter, completely befuddled by his casual, unbothered tone. “Is everything all good? Are you okay? Why’d you call me?” 

“What? I didn’t call you.” 

“Jess, you called me like, fifty times just now.” 

“Wait, really? Hang on…” He mutters. “Oh, shit. Huh. I guess I did.” 

“Jesse!” 

“Sorry, dude! My fault for leaving my phone in my pocket while doing squats.” 

“Oh my g—I thought you were dying or something!” You gripe, sighing both in relief and annoyance. 

“Me? Die? Man, I’m indestructible,” Jesse proclaims. “No man can kill Jesse Chang.” 

“Jesus…” 

“Hey, I thought you were on a date, by the way?” 

“I am.” You point out, irritated. “Well, it’s not a date, but… whatever! I’m on it now!” 

“Then what are you doing calling me?” 

“You called me!” 

“Oh, yeah.” Jesse chuckles. 

“Dude!” You huff, clicking your tongue in indignation. 

“Hey, you’re listed as one of my favourite contacts. My phone was somehow compelled to communicate with you tonight for some mystical reason.” 

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” 

You suppress a chuckle at hearing Jesse’s genuine howls of laughter from his end of the line. 

“Alright, alright,” Jesse eventually says. “I’ll let you get back to it.” 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re doing alright, though?” Jesse suddenly asks, his lighthearted tone shifting to a more sincere one. “You feeling nervous?” 

“Always.” You admit. 

“You got this, man.” 

“I-I don’t know, Jess…” 

“Hey, you showed up, which means you’re halfway there already anyway.” 

“I know, I know. I just… I just can’t believe I’m on an actual date. I can’t believe that I’m actually doing this.” 

“I can. You are one foxy, amazing lady who deserves to be properly wined and dined.” 

“Okay, grandpa.” 

“There she is.” 

You allow yourself to chuckle this time, suddenly feeling grateful for Jesse’s accidental buttdials tonight. 

“Thanks, Jess. Needed that a bit, honestly.” 

“I know, bud. Call me or D afterwards? If Anderson isn’t too busy ploughing into you or whatever it is that you lesbians do in the LGBT community.” 

“Shut up!” 

Jesse cackles. 

“Yeah, I’ll call you guys right after.” You promise him. 

“Good. Now get back to your quote-unquote date and enjoy yourself.” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Do or do not. There is no—” 

“Don’t you fucking quote Star Wars to me, you nerd.” 

“Hey, but you recognized it. You’re the nerd.” 

“Whatever! I’ll call you after, grandpa!” 

“You better, young lady!” 

You and Jesse share a laugh. 

“Thanks, Jess. Have fun at movie night with D. Love you lots.” 

“Will do. Love you too, dude.” 

You murmur a farewell before ending the phone call. 

Leaning against the door of the stall and sliding down slightly, the comfort of hearing Jesse’s reassurances slowly dissipates as you think about Abby patiently awaiting your return at your table. You’d been so preoccupied with the anxiety of how the date-not-a-date itself would go that you hadn’t even spared a thought about the aftermath: how is the night going to end exactly? 

You gulp, suddenly aware of the way your silver heels are digging into your ankles. You feel guilty for even entertaining the thought of ending the night and running home to the embarrassing comfort of your bed.  

Why can’t I just fucking give in? Why am I stopping myself? Why am I so scared about how this night is going to end? 

The sound of someone else entering the restroom snaps you out of your thoughts and back into reality: the reality where you are on, what you need to admit to yourself, a date with an extremely handsome, charming woman who is willing to give you what you might just need from a romantic partner. 

A couple more minutes pass where you heavily abuse your breathing techniques before you finally find the courage to pry yourself off the door. You emerge from the stall just as your nameless powder room companion exits. 

You dare look at yourself in the mirror. Surprised to see a little bit of eyeliner smudged underneath your eyes, you quickly grab a paper towel to dab at it. 

Did I really just cry while I was on that phone call with Jesse? Christ, what the hell is wrong with me? 

You nearly poke yourself in the eye from frustration and stare at your tired reflection. The only thing that wills you to leave your restroom refuge is replaying Jesse’s supportive words of encouragement. 

He believes in me. Dina believes in me. 

With that and a heavy exhale, you finally depart the restroom. 

As you finish off the last few crunchy croutons on your plate, you watch as Abby does the same with the French dish she’d ordered that you’d never heard of and had some weird-sounding name that you can’t pronounce. 

“You sure you don’t want dessert?” She asks you, setting down her spoon. 

“Abby,” You say sternly. “You already wore me down into getting an actual entrée and a glass of Moscato. You are not getting me dessert too.” 

“Dinner is just not complete without it!” 

“That is some rich people behaviour that I will not indulge in.” 

Abby laughs as you give her a half smile. In the back of your mind, you’re relieved that Abby’s evening wasn’t spoiled by your impromptu phone call and your slight shift in attitude that followed. She thankfully hadn’t noticed your fingers fiddling with your dress in your lap or your quiet but involuntary tapping of your right foot underneath the table. The more the evening progressed, the more anxious you became about the possibility of her eventually noticing your fidgeting. 

After the dessert flan she’d ordered is placed in front of her, Abby takes a small bite and lets out a moan of satisfaction. 

“I love me a good flan.” 

“That good, huh?” 

“Fucking amazing. Here, try some.” 

“Oh, no. You already tried to feed me your weird ass French dish from earlier. Besides, I’m way too stuffed already.” 

“All you ate was a Caesar salad!” 

“It was huge! It was Olive Garden-sized!” 

“Just have a bit of the flan!” 

“You ordered it! I don’t wanna eat something that you ordered for yourself!” 

“Come on, pretty girl. Just a bite!” 

You groan at her insistence. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Miss Anderson.” 

“Completely. Now open up.” 

You lean across the table as Abby meets you halfway with a piece of flan on a fork. She delicately places it on your tongue, her sky blue eyes meeting yours. 

Your throat swells up with nervousness and you feel short of breath as your chest tightens. You move to sit down from how dizzy you’re getting, but your eyes widen as Abby’s thumb suddenly brushes against your jaw. 

“Hang on. Some of it is dripping down.” 

Abby’s tongue involuntarily sticks out as she wipes away the syrupy caramel from your chin. Your eyes widen as your lips turn a shade paler than usual. 

Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh god. 

“U-uhh, um, th-thanks, Abs.” You stutter as you clumsily take your seat. 

“No problem,” Abby says, a corner of her lip cocking up in a half-smile. “Don’t need you all sticky.” 

 Your breath catches in your throat and you feel a tingle travel from the crown of your head all the way down to your heel-strapped ankles. Abby smirks slightly as she sips from her Old Fashioned, smugly leaning back into her chair. 

Oh, god. 

Being the natural gentlemanwoman that she is, Abby holds the door open for you as you step out of Orchards and onto the street. 

“Ladies first.” She says playfully. 

“Oh, stop.” You chuckle. 

Abby grins as she gives the host by the podium a parting, thankful wave. 

Teetering back and forth on your feet and playing with the sound of clicking your heels were making, you nervously stare up at the night sky. When you had been making your way to Orchards earlier in the evening, the sun was still descending in the west and casting a beautiful, pink hue through clusters of cumulonimbus. Now, the sky is clear of any clouds, and the moon in its waning phase along with the constellations dimly light the quiet downtown area of this college town. 

Suddenly spotting a few celestial patterns that looked all too familiar from a face you’d been trying to put out of your mind all night, you tear your eyes away from the stars to meet Abby’s sky blue eyes. 

“H-hey,” You hesitatingly start. “Th-thank you for tonight. This honestly was really nice.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

“I really did, Abs,” You smile. “I haven’t had a nice, ritzy night like this in a while. Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever had a really fancy night like this before.” 

“That so? Might have to take you out on dates like this more often, if that’s the case.” She pauses for a second, the usual confident expression on her face fading to be replaced with one of uncertainty. “Or… well, not a date exactly—” 

“Abby.” You giggle. “This was clearly a date.” 

“Yeah? So you finally decided?” Abby asks, her usual swagger back. 

“We got all dressed up and went to a very nice, swanky restaurant. You insisted on paying the entire bill and everything.” 

“Hey, that’s what friends do.” 

“Are we?” You ask, turning to completely face her. 

“What?” 

“Friends? Just friends?” 

“Hmm…” Abby hums. 

She takes you by surprise as she pulls you closer towards her by the hips. You stumble on your heels, catching yourself by your hands on her sturdy chest. You look up, meeting her bright, blue eyes that contradict that of the starry, shadowy sky. Fingers involuntarily clutching at her shirt, you gulp an anxious whimper down your tight throat. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” Abby whispers. 

Your fingertips grow cold against her chest. 

“I-I-I’m— I don’t—” 

“Oh, hang on. Hold still.” Abby suddenly says. 

Her hand comes up to your face and her long fingers gingerly brush against your nose. She pulls her hand back, clutching something in between her fingers. 

“Got a loose eyelash.” She says, holding up for you to see. “Make a wish.” 

You entertain her and firmly close your eyes. You try racking your brain for a wish worth making to immediately come to you, but no desire materializes. 

So instead, you ask the universe for a vague, ubiquitous wish: for it to divinely and kindly lead you down the right path. 

You open your eyes and softly blow the eyelash out of Abby’s fingers. You lose sight of it instantly as Abby parts her pointer and thumb to release it into the open air. 

Abby brings her hand up once more, this time to caress her fingers across your cheek. Every inch of your body suddenly goes up in flames, and you’re almost surprised that Abby hasn’t retracted her hand from the pure heat of it. 

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.” She says seriously. 

“O-of course, Abs.” You whisper. 

“I know you’ve been hesitant about things, and I won’t pry on why—” 

“It’s really gonna nothing to do with you, Abs, I promise—“ 

“No, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me if you don’t want to. I don’t want to push you on it.” 

You swallow. 

“But I just want you to know,” Abby continues. “I do like you, you know. A lot. I think you’re seriously so smart and silly and so, so stunning .” 

“Abs, be serious—” 

“I am.” 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah. So if you ever wanna give me a chance, I’m right here. I’m ready for anything you want.” 

You gulp. 

“I-I’m not sure… not sure if you’re ready for all this. All of me and my baggage.” 

She takes your face between both her hands. 

“I’m ready for anything, pretty girl.” 

Before you know it, Abby’s mouth is suddenly on yours, enveloping you in a kiss. It’s soft and gentle, like she’s deliberately being mindful of how she touches you. 

You’d expected this the second her skin made contact with yours, but your body still reacts in complete surprise. You don’t kiss her back just yet, everything in you completely stuck in place. Your hands have an impulse to push her away, but a voice inside you begins to cry out. 

Kiss her! Kiss her the fuck back! Kiss her now! 

Fingers finally moving from their frozen state and grasping at her chest, you begin to kiss her back with hesitant fervour. 

The second your lips begin to move with hers, her delicateness turns into zeal. Her hands fall back down to your hips, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you even closer. You can feel her heartbeat pounding next to yours, drums sounding together unsynchronized but thundering. You let out a sudden and soft moan, and Abby deepens the kiss. 

She parts her mouth slowly and you feel her tongue against your teeth. You whimper when she starts to suck on your bottom lip as a hand comes up to clutch your hair. As you wrap your arms around her neck, you open your mouth slightly to invite her in further. 

After what feels like hours of you two intimately intertwined, you break the kiss to catch a much-needed breath. 

You open your eyes to meet Abby’s sky blue ones, even brighter than they were before. Her smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it, emanating a radiant glow. 

 “Th-that was…” She began. 

“Y-y…” You try to say, but you can’t seem to find your voice. 

Her hand brushes against your cheek once more as you feel your throat begin to close up once more. 

W-wait. My throat. It’s actually— 

Before you can muster any words, you feel your breathing stop completely and the entire world suddenly goes black. 

author’s notes:

BELLE FINALLY POSTING AFTER MONTHS OF NO NCTY?! A MIRACLE

thank you for bearing with me during these past couple of months. i know many of y'all have been waiting very patiently, and i hope this chapter was worth the wait!

in true belle fashion, orchards is named after a restaurant that already exists in the games

reader's ellie box is totally not inspired exactly by the box i used to have for my ex-girlfriend, described exactly the same way and contained a whole bunch of stuff like the tickets from when we went to moma and the playbill when we went to see waitress on broadway....

mentions of daisies is because they symbolize innocence (also one of my fave students is named daisy)

ahhh sploofs. such flashbacks to when i lived with live-in ex at her dormitory in college. those were so annoying to make.

reader's love for writing handwritten letter is inspired by my own love for it. i write my friends letters all the time and seal them with cute wax seals. i have like, at least 15 different wax seals and i love them all. yes i do have a fern wax seal too. also reader has a sunflower seal bc it is my fave flower

reader's dress is purple for symbolism cause purple sometimes represents anxiety which... mood

the truffle tots are just a fun little reference to these truffle tots that my live-in ex and i get every time we go to this one gay bar, that shit is so fucking good

more of reader and ellie's relationship bc i love jesse but also i think a show of a healthy, platonic relationship between a lesbian and a straight man is important

jesse's line about never dying is a little heehee reference to the game obvi but also him saying that no man can kill him is like that lord of the rings line where eowyn says "i am no man" cause abby is obviously a woman lol

abby is eating flan bc i love flan (leche flan to be exact)

heehee leave some theories in the notes or in y'all's tags on what happened to reader at the end

love y'all so so much. chapter 13 is mostly written so stay tuned for an upcoming update very soon...

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