#i hope he somehow comes back in the second season

[cheolism]

✧ CAUGHT IN A TRAP

✧ choi seungcheol x f!reader ✧ summary: you ask your brother's best friend to tie the top to your swimsuit. he's convinced that you've lured him into a trap and acts accordingly. ✧ wc is approx 4.5k ✧ tags: brother's best friend-to-lovers?? close proximity ✧ warnings: mdni. mentions of groping and luring!! grinding, oral and fingering, dick-in-vagina sex, overstim. cheol's dirty mouth, pet names (princess, baby, good girl, etc). begging, slightly mean cheol. this is basically all tension and porn. possibly morally questionable cheol? lmk if you think any should be added. ✧ author's note: first fic in a month! i've begun and quit so many fics in the past few weeks and this is the first one i've been able to finish. so i'm satisfied!! this is just desperate porn. this takes place during the summer so it is very out of season lol

"seungkwan," you call, opening your bedroom door just enough to peek out of it. you don't see your brother in the hall, so you call again; hopefully, he hasn't left for the lake already.

seungcheol appears before you can call for a third time. he's -- well. he's choi seungcheol and he's dressed for the lake, long trunks and a tank top that's somehow both too tight on his torso and just right, revealing his thick biceps and straining over his chest and making your eyes drop to trace the shape of them.

"seungkwan's already down at the dock," seungcheol answers, glancing at his phone. he looks back at you, lifting one of his thick brows at how you're poking only your head out. "everything okay?"

you can feel heat rush to your face. you refuse to look at his face, but then your eyes immediately drop back down to his chest and you can't look there because that would make you a huge creep, so you drop your gaze even further and it goes to his ankles.

"i need help," you mumble, "i can't tie the back of my top."

seungcheol's quiet and you refuse to look at him and repeat yourself. it's horrible. you think about him imagining you, the top of your swimsuit dangling around your shoulders and tits hanging out, and you slide the door shut just a little bit more.

"i'll just text seungkwan and tell him to come back up," you say, voice quiet with embarrassment. you shouldn't have even told seungcheol. he wasn't judging you out loud but seungcheol was -- he was perfect. he was the perfect man, the man you've dreamt about for as long as your brother's known him, and you're so overly aware of how you look to him -- of how he sees you as some silly little sibling to his dear friend, and you've just made yourself seem even more like a little kid.

"no need," seungcheol responds. his voice is deep, and you flick your eyes to watch him slide his phone into the pocket of his trunks. "i can tie it for you."

your eyes widen and your mouth drops a little. "no thanks!" you squeak, shutting the door entirely. "i'll just -- i'll just wear a shirt down!"

seungcheol laughs on the other side. he knocks against the door. "let me in, silly." he knocks again. "it's just tying a swimsuit."

right. it's just tying a swimsuit while you stand there, half-naked.

"no," you whine, "i'll really just --"

"let me tie your top." seungcheol's voice has taken on a more serious tone, the sort that he gets when he's trying to command a room.

you're quiet for half a minute, biting down on your lip and pressing your forehead against the door. it's just tying a swimsuit top, like seungcheol said; he just sees it as helping out his best friend's little sibling. but also, it's choi seungcheol, the man who inspires more crushes than he could ever be aware of, and you don't know if you can handle the mortification that comes with him seeing you like this.

but then, quietly, in the hopes that he'll miss it, you agree.

"let me in," he returns.

"just a second," and then you're moving from the door. you push your open suitcase behind the bed so he won't be able to see how your stripped underwear sits on top, and you kick your dirty clothes underneath the bed.

you reach behind you, grabbing the strings of your top and pulling them taut so your tits don't hang out. then you open the door, just a smidge. "hurry!"

seungcheol chuckles as you slam the door shut behind him. "it's just a swimsuit," he says, eyes twinkling. and he's so handsome, his dark hair hanging around his face and lips twisted in a smirk. it's so ridiculous, and you don't know why seungkwan ever introduced you to seungcheol because surely your brother knew you would end up like this.

(surely your brother knew that when he introduced you to seungcheol and mingyu and wonwoo but mainly seungcheol that in three years' time you would be standing with seungcheol in a bedroom in a lodge, turning so seungcheol could tie the strings to your top.

it was all seungkwan's fault.)

slowly, you turn your back to seungcheol. "quickly," you urge him. "we gotta hurry."

seungcheol scoffs at you. your body is so alert that you can practically feel every step he takes, that you can picture seungcheol crossing the room. when he grabs the strings of your top his fingertips skim along your back, and you can't help but jump.

"we're not going to get in trouble," seungcheol says, pulling the strings from your grasp. "we're both adults."

"can you imagine what seungkwan would say if he saw you leaving my bedroom when the door was closed," you hiss, bringing both of your hands to your front and crossing them over your chest. seungcheol's fingers slide against your shoulder blades and then he's beginning to tie your top, and you can feel every pull as he tightens them. every single movement seems to jostle your heart, seems to alert every single cell in your body to seungcheol's fingers. "forget kwannie -- can you imagine soonyoung? or jihoon? they'd tattle."

"they'd tattle," seungcheol laughs. "we're adults. if you're so worried we should've just left the door open."

"so someone can pass and look in to you tying my top?" you say, shaking your head. "no thanks."

the strings pull once more, and then seungcheol is tapping your shoulders. "finished."

"it's tight?" you say, turning over your shoulder to look at him. "it won't come undone?"

seungcheol tugs the knot he made. "nope. we'll have to cut you out."

you grin, turning to face seungcheol. "thanks."

"wasn't so hard now was it?" seungcheol smirked down at you, lifting one of his thick brows. you hate it when he looks at you like this -- hate it because a single lift of his brow sends a tingling rush through you, one that shoots straight down to your cunt and makes you feel electric. "you were worried over nothing."

it's then, watching as he lowers his eyebrow but that smirk remains, that you realize just how close the two of you are. seungcheol had stepped close to you so he could tie your top and hadn't moved away. that meant that when you turned around there was hardly two feet of space between you.

and fuck, when you became aware of it you became aware.

his wide shoulders, the way his skin -- lightly tanned by the sun, as if even the sun had a crush on seungcheol and couldn't bear to burn his skin red like it had jihoon -- tightened around his biceps when he raised his arms up above his head in a stretch.

as he stretched you couldn't help but let your gaze flick back over his body. you were ogling him like he was some prize but, horribly, you couldn't help it. you couldn't help but take in the sight of his pecs, of how his nipples poked through the fabric of his dark tank top. the slight curve of his tummy, how he hadn't tucked his tank top into his trunks, and how the shirt rose as he stretched, revealing just a sliver of skin.

his neck, wide and thick, and his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and side, angling his face up towards the ceiling as he stretched.

seungcheol was like a flame, passion running through his veins. and like a moth, you couldn't help but reach.

you weren't even thinking. not a single thought was in your mind. it was as if your brain went offline, leaving nothing but your heart and the want that left little tingles in your cunt to command your body.

and you were reaching and placing your hand over his collarbone. his skin was smooth beneath your fingers, and you couldn't help but swipe your thumb over his skin, watching as your thumb moved.

then seungcheol's hand was shooting out and grabbing your wrist and your brain came online.

mortification shot through you. your brain began to go into overdrive as you gawked at seungcheol as if he had been the one to touch you unsolicited, as if he had been the one to press his hand to your skin and feel.

"i --" you began, a thousand thoughts shooting through your brain and yet not a single one leaving your lips. you can't speak. you can't because you just -- just groped choi seungcheol. "wait -- i --"

seungcheol cocks his head at you, brows lifting and you can feel -- despite the situation at hand -- more tingling in your pussy. "oh. i get it now."

"i-- get -- what?"

seungcheol grins at you, cherry blossom pink lips quirking. he moves closer to you, though there hasn't been that much space between the two of you to begin with and wasn't that where this entire problem started, so why was he getting closer?

"you were luring me in here," seungcheol announces, walking closer and closer and you begin backing up, straight into the wall opposite to the door. "i was just a passing fly you caught in your trap. is that right?"

your back hits the wall and you have nowhere to go. you're gawking up at seungcheol, feeling as if you were the fly in his trap. "what -- what are you talking about --"

"you wanted me to come in," seungcheol says, still grinning down at you. "you were pretending you needed your top tied. you were pretending so you could get me in your room, door shut. you were pretending so you could grope me."

your mouth fell open with an audible click. "i -- i didn't! seungcheol, i promise i didn't!"

seungcheol laughs at you meanly. he moves your hand, the one that, horribly, reached out and groped him, and presses it above your head and against the wall. he crowds closer, his other hand sliding along your jaw to cup your cheek. "you planned this."

"i didn't," you say, voice going quiet due to the lack of space between the two of you. "i was searching for seungkwan."

"you were," he mocks, and he's so mean. choi seungcheol is so mean. "you've got me in your little trap, baby. what are you gonna do with me?"

you wonder what the fuck he means. seungcheol's the one who's got you against the wall, he's the one with your wrist in his grasp.

seungcheol's eyes flick down. he's taking you in, you realize; he's admiring you.

"i've trapped you," you echo weakly.

seungcheol's eyes return to your face. "you have," he responds. "now what will you do with me?"

you lick your lips. your bottoms are soaked, you realize. you can feel their dampness, can feel the heat trapped between your thighs.

"i -- i've trapped you," you say, slowly, testing out each word. "i better -- i better use you, then."

"use me?" he says, cocking his head. seungcheol's eyes are sparkling, and you realize that he loves this. "how would you use me, baby? what would you do to me?"

your brain goes blank again. "uh. i'd -- i'd kiss you?"

"kiss me," he's grinning now as if you're amusing him. his thumb slides along your cheekbone. "is that it? you've got me in your hands for you to fuck around with and all you'd do is kiss me?"

"wanted to," you say. "i've wanted to kiss you for a while."

seungcheol's smile softens, and he's moving his hand from your cheek to press it next to your head on the wall. he's caging you in, and you're trapped between his arms, but you don't feel it. you don't feel like a trapped moth frantically looking for an escape.

shyly, you carry on. "i guess i'd -- if i had you, if i was going to use you -- i'd make you uh --"

"make me what?" he says, and he's enjoying it so much.

"you know."

"i don't," he says, brows raised. "you gotta tell me, baby. what do you want to do with me?"

you can't look at him. so you slide your gaze from his face and rest it on his collarbone. "i'd -- i'd sit on you."

"sit on me? that it?" seungcheol brings his face close, and his nose is against yours. "just sit on my lap? wouldn't do anything else? don't want to do anything else with me?"

you can't say it, so you shake your head.

seungcheol clicks his tongue. he trails his nose over your face, breath hot against your face. "okay. let me tell you what i'd do. if i had you in my trap i'd kiss you. kiss your cute little mouth, kiss your chin. kiss your throat, kiss your pretty tits. i'd kiss your tummy and i'd kiss your sweet little cunt -- i bet it's so pretty, princess. bet you have such a pretty little pussy."

you gasp, and his mouth is over your lips. he's not kissing you, but his lips are pressed to yours. you can feel them move as he speaks. "i'd have you take my cock," he carries on, each word sending heat and electricity to your pussy. "if i had you trapped i'd fuck you so good, baby."

you agree. you think of it, of seungcheol pressing his dick -- you just know he's big, know he's big and he'd feel so good around your cunt. you think of it and shift, feeling the wetness of your swimming bottoms.

"so?" he asks.

"so?"

seungcheol laughs at you. "would you let me trap you, baby? would you wander into my little trap and let me fuck you?"

"yes," you say, and it's the easiest thing you've ever said.

seungcheol kisses you. he immediately devours you, immediately traps you. seungcheol moves his mouth with intent, covering yours over and over and over, kissing you as if he had been wanting it, yearning for it.

you can't help but get lost in it--in him. his hands move from your wrists and to you, one of his hands sinking into your hair to guide you, his other going to wrap around your body and hold you close to him. he wants you, you think; wants you, wants you so desperately that he wants to mold your bodies into one.

your arms get trapped between your bodies, but you take the chance to press your hands against his chest and feel his body as he moves against you. it's not like you have the wits to do much else. with seungcheol's mouth devouring you, owning you, you can't do anything else than try and catch your breath between every eager press of your lips, can't do anything else than just stand there and let him take you.

seungcheol moves his tongue into your mouth, and that's when you break away. you gasp against him, trying to catch your breath, trying to focus. seungcheol moves on. he travels from your mouth, skimming his lips along your chin and jaw before going to your neck.

his hands move as his mouth does, and he's settling them on your hips and guiding them flush against his. you can feel his dick, can feel him as he mouths at your neck, never staying in one place, as if he would go crazy if he didn't press his mouth against every inch of you.

"seung--" you pant, your hands digging into the fabric of his tank top. he groans, a strangled noise against your skin. you try to speak again, but then he's skimming his teeth along your skin and you can't help but let out a high, keening whine.

he grins against your skin. "that's it, princess," he murmurs, "gotta me loud for me. gotta show me you really want it."

you groan, obedient, when he begins sucking at your neck. seungcheol works his mouth over you, sucking bruises into your skin.

"tell me," he commands, pressing his nose against your jaw, "tell me you want it."

"want it," you return, letting your head rest back against the wall. seungcheol moves his mouth back to your neck, and then he's running his lips along one of the strings of your swimming top, mouthing at it as if he was reminding you of how scantily clad you were. "want it, cheol, want you."

he hums. "tell me," he carries on, as if your words had no effect. "tell me you trapped me. tell me this was all part of your plan, baby."

you want to whine and protest, but then he's ducking his head and nipping at the exposed skin of your tits and you immediately give in. "it was," you whine, "i -- i trapped you, cheol. wanted you, want you so badly, cheol."

when seungcheol lifts his head, he's smirking. he presses you flat against the wall, mouth returning to the curve of your neck. seungcheol licks against your skin, drawing a noise from your mouth, just as he thrusts his leg between your thighs.

"too bad i caught onto your little plan, princess," he taunts. "i should turn around and walk out, shouldn't i? just leave you here in your room, all wet and desperate."

you whine, moving your hands against him. you run them over his pecs, over his shoulders. 

"don't," you beg, unable to keep your voice from going high in desperation. "please, seungcheol, please --"

"please what?"

"fuck me," you beg, wanton yearning seeking its talons into you. you wanted, wanted so desperately. he was all around you, surrounding you; you could feel the taste of him on your tongue, the feel of his skin beneath your hands. but it wasn't enough. you wanted him inside of you, wanted to feel him within. "please, please fuck me --"

"prove it to me, baby," he says. "prove it that you want me. show me. show me, precious."

he presses his knee up against you, shoving it underneath your cunt. "ride me," he commands, "ride my thigh, princess."

you immediately bare down on his thigh. you angle your hips so your clit is rubbing over his thigh through your bottoms, and the relief feels so good that you can't help but let your head fall back against the wall. seungcheol immediately takes advantage, pressing his face against your chest and mouthing at your tits, hands gripping your hips and guiding.

your nails sink into his skin. you fuck down onto his thigh, chasing that feeling that tugs at your cunt. it's as if you're mindless, as if you had been born just to fuck yourself against choi seungcheol's thigh.

and you ride him like that. ride him as if it was your one mission in life. your mouth falls open and he quickly covers it, licking into your mouth. "that's it, princess. gotta cum on me, gotta prove you want me."

"want you," you beg, "please, cheol. help me, want you so badly, cheol, please please --"

he curses. seungcheol pulls away from you completely, drawing a loud noise of disapproval from your mouth.

but then seungcheol's hands grip your hips, and then he's pulling you from the wall and spinning so he could push you back onto the bed. as soon as you fall he's on you, his mouth -- already red from the force of his passionate kisses -- covering your skin, frantically moving from the curve of your tits to your stomach to your bottoms.

seungcheol's hands go to your thighs and he's parting your legs. you don't even have a chance to get shy before he's mouthing at you through your swim bottoms, licking a broad stripe from your cunt to your clit.

your responding moan is loud, and you don't even have the presence of mind to try and cover it. seungcheol licks over your bottoms, pushing his tongue against them as if they weren't there at all. you're completely wet, you're soaked, it's as if you had gone down to the lake after all, but it's just from your cunt and you wonder if he's going to drown in it.

but you ride his face nonetheless; you move your hips as he works his mouth, chasing him, chasing that tongue of his. you can't help it. there's something desperate, something animalistic inside of you and it's taken over, and you can't help but wrap your thighs around his head and beg.

seungcheol slips his fingers into the bottoms, moving them aside. he uses his other hand to spread your pussy lips before he's latching onto your clit, sucking and sucking, and it's like something releases inside of you and you're cumming, thighs tight around his head and fingers twisting in the seats.

instead of giving you a moment to gather yourself seungcheol continues. he laps at your clit, laving his tongue over it, while he maneuvers his fingers against your hole. "be good for me," he says, breath hot against your cunt. "be good and prove to me that you want my dick, baby."

you nod, breathless, and he slides one of his fingers inside of your cunt. immediately you're clenching down on him, and he responds with a curse. seungcheol doesn't stop; he continues to lick at your cunt while feeds his fingers into your cunt, one at a time, spreading them out and preparing you for his cock.

you're electric. forget the moth and the flame. it's as if seungcheol's ignited something in you and you're buzzing with it. you just want more and more and more, and you don't even realize you're begging for it.

eventually, seungcheol pulls from your cunt. his face is soaked. he's smirking, though, and his eyes gleam as he pulls his tank top up and off. seungcheol lets you gawk at him, lets you look. and you really can't help but look.

you take in his pecs, his broad shoulders. his brown nipples and how they pebble in the cool air of your bedroom, his stomach. you can't help but be in awe of him, of the softness of his body and how it covers his strong muscles, and your cunt tightens around nothing.

seungcheol laughs at you, and then he's pulling your bottoms. you raise your hips off of the bed and let seungcheol pull them off and drop them onto the floor. he slips his fingers into the waistband of his trunks before they, too, drop to the floor.

he's beautiful, you think. he's completely bare before you, his dick large and straining, and he's absolutely beautiful.

seungcheol moves back onto the bed, slipping his hands underneath your thighs and moving them up. he presses them to your chest, and when he's close enough you can't help but thread your fingers through his hair and bring his face to yours. you kiss him, sliding your mouths together.

he grins against your mouth. seungcheol moves one of his hands, running it along your thigh before pressing his palm to your cunt. "you've trapped me, baby," he whispers, and then you feel his cock press against your pussy.

"please," you beg, fingers tightening around his blonde locks. "please cheol."

seungcheol guides his cockhead so it's against your entrance. but then he stops. he pauses, eyes flicking over your face. you can't help but feel frustrated; all of this playing and here he is, about to fuck you and stopping.

"seungcheol," you whine, wiggling against him in hopes he'll take mercy on you. "please, seungcheol. want you so badly, please, please!"

he hums. he's got a flush on his face, but he's trying to appear unaffected. "i don't know, baby. don't know if you really want it."

you let out a sob. in the future maybe you'll look back on this movement with shame. in the present, however, you feel tears spring to your eyes and you tighten your grip on his hair, bringing his head down so you can press desperate kisses to his face.

"please," you sob, pressing a kiss against his mouth. "please, cheolie. i -- i want you so bad, want you to fuck me, please, please --"

when he finally slides in he does it all at once. seungcheol fucks his cock into you in one swift movement, sheathing himself to the hilt inside of your cunt. you can't help but cry out, back arching and fingers digging into his shoulders.

it hurts, faintly. it's not an acute pain, but instead a dull ache of your cunt stretching around his cock. it goes away rather quickly, and then you're bucking your hips up against him.

"good girl," he whispers, and then he's withdrawing. he draws back until just the tip of his cock is at your entrance, and you can't help but be on edge -- every single neuron and electron in your body is on fucking edge, waiting, anticipating --

and then he fucks back into you, his balls slapping against your cunt. you let out a loud moan, uncaring of the noise. he does it again, drawing his hips out quickly and sheathing himself in a hurried movement. seungcheol fucks you deeply, quickly, and harshly.

he fucks you like a man depraved, like a man desperate. as if he had admired you all this time just as you had him.

every thrust drives you up the bed, every thrust making his balls slap against your pussy, each thrust accompanied by the loud slaps of skin and skin and the wet squelches from your cunt. you'll be sore in a matter of hours but you don't care. you don't care, not when he's fucking you so deeply and fitting so perfectly inside.

"good girl," he chants, slipping his hands behind your knees and keeping your thighs against your chest. he uses his grip on your body to angle himself, and the next time he thrusts into your cunt he's hitting that gummy core inside of you that makes your lips curl and your eyes squeeze shut.

"pretty girl," he carries on, thrusts punishing. "pretty girl with her pretty cunt, so fucking wet 'n warm, so fucking good for me, made just for me --"

"for you," you echo, a loud, ugly sob coming out. "you, cheol -- yours, you -- for you, for you --"

seungcheol curses, and then he's cumming inside of you. his cum is hot and there's so much, and he fucks into your cunt, fucks his cum into your pussy until his dick is soft and he's wincing.

seungcheol moves. his dick slips out of you but before you can miss it, before you can miss him, he's returning to your pussy. seungcheol slaps his hand against your cunt once, and then he's thrusting his fingers against your clit harshly, rhythmically.

"such a good girl," he growls, thick brows furrowed. "good fucking good, taking me so good -- good girl, pretty girl. all mine, all fucking mine."

he slaps your cunt again and you cum, and it's like a thunderous wave has plunged over you. you can't hear or see, and you don't know if you're even breathing. but you're cumming and cumming and cumming, and his hand is working furiously at your clit and you don't know if you'll ever stop cumming.

seungcheol is still moving his fingers against your clit when you come to. he's moving them slowly, softly, guiding you back down from that high. his large eyes are taking you in as if he's trying to memorize how you look before him.

you meet his eyes; you smile.

and then he grins so brightly that you just know.

he's got you in his trap.

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 1

Loki x Reader

Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: A long overdue mini-series for one of my favorite characters of all time. I had this idea when season one of Loki first came out, but never got to writing it, and now with season two coming, I decided to finally do it. There are two important things that need to be said before we head into it though; firstly and most importantly, I will not be following the show's plot at all, this story will only be focusing on the relationship between Loki and the reader, after all that's what it is about and I don't want it to be unnecessarily huge; secondly, this story will be mostly told in moments, which means that not every single scene happening between the characters will be written down in length. Lastly, I do hope you can all enjoy it. <3

Masterlist

Things felt worthless. Everything suddenly seemed unimportant. His whole life, everything he knew, felt small and frail. Because here, infinity stones were mere paperweights.

Loki scoffed as he pushed himself up from the floor, one hand coming up to tug at the collar still wrapped around his neck. This place made him feel as if his brain was melting, it was all too much, too sudden—sacred timeline, variants. A sense of utter helplessness started to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Yet he couldn't hold himself back from sitting at the single table in the middle of the dim-lit room. The checkered image of the Avengers right in front of him seemed to be taunting him.

This was still the same day, right?

Or maybe not, Loki wasn't certain anymore; it sure didn't feel like the same day.

For a split second, as he looked down at the red, round device resting on top of the table, he thought about how everything here looked so old-fashioned. It was almost ironic, for a place out of time.

Loki couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him eventually. But if anyone had their whole life just a click away, they'd probably do the same.

So he watched, through glimpses passing on a screen, a life that was supposed to be his. He watched his mother die, and then his father; he watched as Thor called him a brother with a smile on his face again, and as they made earth a new home for Asgard. Loki's eyes were already a pool of tears as soon as his mother's lifeless body had appeared in front of him, they cascaded down his cheeks freely, leaving behind a damp path of a lifetime worth of mourning, now seen in less than a minute. The loss somehow felt greater, because now he wouldn't even have those moments to begin with.

But suddenly, amidst the moments of suffering and mistakes, an unfamiliar face appeared. She had a smile on her face most of the time, and even through the static of the image in front of him, Loki could clearly see the glint in her pupils, the crinkle beside her eyes. She was quite captivating, maybe that's why it took him a second to realize she was smiling at him.

A frown etched itself in Loki's eyebrows, he leaned forward on his chair as he pressed play again. Curiosity and... apprehension twirled wildly inside his stomach.

The moments with her were endless. Walks on the beach, shared ice creams, quiet nights watching a movie, dancing together in a dark kitchen, the golden rays of a sunset shining against her hair in a memory tucked away like a treasure; and even a moment of her talking with Tony Stark and the others, while her hand held tightly onto Loki's, the other Loki, that is. All of them looked futile, a simple existence Loki would never have considered fit for him; so why did these moments feel important?

Inside TVA's lonely room, Loki held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and his eyes were stinging for a whole new reason. He could feel the shaking of his own hands. That look in her eyes, it was one of love, anyone who saw would know it. But the cause of the sudden lump in Loki's throat was the fact that this look was always directed at him. That love in her eyes, that smile on her lips; was for him.

Several minutes went by with him silently looking at the paused image of her on the checkered screen. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure why yet. If it was for the shock of learning that someone could love him this much; or because of the envy, the longing for something that wasn't even his, not really, he never got there after all.

There was a hole in his chest, a missing piece of something he never had. Loki didn't even know her name, yet a part of him was screaming it anyway.

He eventually moved on, and almost threw up when he watched Thanos take his life from him. Loki watched his brother cry over his lifeless body, yet he wasn't seeing her.

And despite the boatload of information thrown at him, the questions clouding his mind were only; who is she? Where is she?

Lost. Loki felt more lost than he probably ever did in his entire life. He had just watched what was supposed to be the rest of his life, yet... it wouldn't be. So what now?

He sat down on the small stairs of the room, burying his head in his hands.

And then there was this girl; smiling and laughing and holding his hand as if he had been the best thing to ever happen to her. This feeling, warm and heavy, squeezing Loki's heart, was a foreign one—he couldn't quite place why that look of pure adoration in her eyes was directed at him.

He needed to know who she was. He needed to find her and ask her why. He needed to know what she was, or- would be to him.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled Loki, he watched as Mobius walked into the room, his steps overly cautious. "Loki? Nowhere left to run."

Gulping back a sob clawing its way through his throat, Loki took a deep breath. He slowly glanced up, voice calm and defeated as he asked a question he already knew the answer to; "I can't go back, can I?"

Mobius simply looked at him, his eyes holding some kind of sympathy as he spared Loki from hearing the truth out loud.

Loki pursed his lips, his gaze slowly trailed back to the screen on his left that again adorned a paused image of the mysterious girl. Her lips were turned up just slightly, dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and she held a slowly melting ice cream in one of her hands. "Who is she?" he asked quietly.

Placing his weapon on the table, Mobius let out a long sigh, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about her."

The words made Loki snap his head towards him, a frown coming to his eyebrows immediately.

"She..." Mobius hesitated, "she is someone almost as annoying as you."

"That doesn't answer my question." Loki nearly sounded offended. He got up then, taking slow steps towards Mobius. "She seemed... important, yet I don't know who she is."

"I'm afraid you haven't met her yet."

"Then tell me who she is."

Mobius grimaced; "I don't think it's my place to say it."

"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, "it's my life we're talking about here."

"How about we help each other then, hm?" Mobius offered, and when Loki only frowned at him, he continued; "a fugitive Variant has been killing our Minutemen."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?"

A small smirk came to Mobius' lips; "That's right. You help us stop him. I get you an opportunity to meet her and you can ask her whatever questions you want to know."

A meeting with someone didn't feel like much for his end of the bargain, but that same voice inside Loki was still screaming a name he didn't know how to spell. He had to know.

"Deal."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

[greatooglymooglyyy]

hey hey i really like your writing and i was wondering if you could do a matt or chris imagine where the reader passes out during a video or something and they comfort the reader after they wake up. i passed out during my lecture today in front of everyone and it was not fun so this would really help me feel better and not as embarrassed please.

Never Again (M. Sturniolo)

contains: fainting, cussing, mentions of not eating but no ED, kissing, fluff, 1k words

a/n: hi anon, i hope you are feeling better and i'm so sorry that happened to you. i kind of didn't know how to handle this request so i hope this is near what you were hoping for. love ya

“I got the rest,” I call out to the boys as I reach into the car and grab the last few bags left behind. But as I step back to lower the door, Matt comes around the corner and takes them from me anyway.

I roll my eyes at his fussiness and follow him back up the stairs. But as I near the top of the stairs, my head begins pounding and I lean on the wall for a second. We’ve been out running errands and shopping for a new weird food combinations video. Somehow with the busyness of the day and the nervousness I always feel before featuring on the Triplet’s channel, I completely forgot to eat today.

Chris peeks his head around the corner and his brow furrows with concern. “Matt,” he calls, stepping closer and extending his hand. I straighten and rush up the last few stairs, not wanting to worry them.

“What’s up?” Matt says from the kitchen, pulling a package of yogurt out of a bag. Chris still looks concerned but steps back, allowing me to go lean against the counter.

“She was-” Chris starts but I cut him off before he can get dramatic.

“I’m fine. I was just a little lightheaded.” I say with a sigh, ignoring the still constant pain in my temple. Matt flicks his eyes between mine and Chris’ for a second, clearly not liking what he sees, and comes over to me.

“If you don’t feel good, we can do this another day. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well no we can’t. It’s Tuesday night, we need a video.” Nick chimes in from where he’s setting up the camera across the room. When he looks up and sees Chris and Matt giving him looks of disbelief he adds quickly, “But obviously you matter more, friend. Sit this one out.”

“Stop fussing. I’m fine, I swear.” I say teasingly, pushing off the counter and stepping over to the table. Chris shrugs and goes back to unpacking the groceries but Matt sticks close, flicking his eyes to my face every few seconds.

When everything is set up, Nick starts the camera and introduces the video. I wave at the camera when they announce me as the guest and try to give as much enthusiasm as I can.

I eagerly take a bite of the salted watermelon, hoping having something on my stomach will help, but it just makes my stomach lurch. I feel sweat prickling on my forehead but I subtly dab at it, forcing a laugh at Matt and Chris’ bickering.

Just as I’m sure I can make it through the video, Chris opens the bottle of Tajin seasoning and the smell makes me weak in the knees. The edges of my vision start to blur and I reach out and place a hand on Nick’s shoulder for stability.

“Ma-” I start weakly before my eyes roll to the back of my head and everything goes black.

********

“Back up. Give her space to breathe.” I hear Matt say calmly, the boys' voices sounding like they are coming from very far away.

“Is she breathing? Oh my god. I think I’m gonna have a panic attack.” Nick pants frantically.

“Bro, I think I broke my arm trying to catch her. Fuck that hurts.” Chris whines.

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” Matt snaps as I pry one of my eyes open. “I think she’s waking up.”

“Holy shit. Thank god.” Nick sighs in relief. “I’ll never bully you again, Y/N. Unless you wear those fuck ass shoes-”

“Nick. Don’t freak her out. You with me, baby?” Matt says softly.

“Ow.” I manage to reply, rubbing the spot on my arm where I must have hit the floor. Surprisingly, my head doesn’t hurt as much as I expected. Chris must have been successful in not letting my head hit the ground.

“You’re alright, baby.” Matt coos, his gentle strokes on my face pulling me back to myself. When I sit up too quickly and wince, Matt’s eyes widen. “Not so quick. Chill here for a second for me.”

I lean into him as I look around the room. Nick is on the other side of the room, biting his nails nervously, while Chris squats behind me near the fridge. “What happened?” I ask.

Matt raises an eyebrow at me. “You tell us, babe. One minute you were fine and the next you’re giving me a heart attack.”

I frown, feeling guilty, and reach up to touch his face. “Sorry guys. I guess I should have eaten something today.” I think for a second before admitting reluctantly. “Or last night.”

“Are you fucking kidding? Don’t ever do that shit again.” Chris snaps behind me, stepping into protective brother mode.

I sigh and nod my head. “I just forget sometimes.”

“Well remember. You’re taking years off my lifespan here, kid.” Matt says sternly but his tone is still kind. He presses kisses all over my face before standing and helping me to my feet. “How about we pause this and go get you some real food?”

“Really quick though because we still need a video and I would like to sleep tonight,” Nick adds, coming around the table and slinging an arm around my neck.

“Nick. I’m gonna push you down these damn stairs.” Matt threatens, turning to grab the keys before following us to the garage.

When we get to the car, Matt grabs my waist and pulls me into his arms while his brothers climb in. He leans down and places a sweet lingering kiss on my lips before he pulls away. “Never again, alright?”

“Promise.”

He leads me to my spot next to Nick and opens the door for me before jogging around to the driver's seat. I smile to myself at how much I love my little village as we start to back out and head to Cane’s.

“Y/N.” Nick starts.

“Hmmm?”

“What if you're like anemic or have low blood sugar or something? Maybe you should go to a doctor.”

I open my mouth to tell him to stop catastrophizing but Chris cuts in panicking.

“Nick! Don’t speak that shit into the universe. You’re freaking me out-"

🏷️: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: I am currently obsessed w the premise of a reader who is just totally smitten by the super shy and introverted Reid from early seasons bc he deserved SO MUCH MORE APPRECIATION it upsets me at least thrice a day!

gif creds: @themoontaxi

Heaven Sent

“There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making.” Spencer tells you with a thoughtful expression as you perch on his desk, smiling down at him in his office chair, your heart lifting in your chest as he continues. “So always appreciate and be kind to each other - there’s a corollary for friends!” And just like that, your heart falls back into place, but your smile doesn’t falter, there’s no way that it can when you’re still looking at him. “When you meet a true friend, you will be bound together through space and time for 500 years.” Spencer ends his tidbit of trivia with a smile that very nearly sends you flying from his desk and into orbit.

As per usual, you try to keep your cool, offering him a beaming smile. “Bound together through space and time for 500 years, eh? For a Buddhist quote, that does sound a bit Doctor-Who.” You tease lightly, and when Spencer’s eyes crinkle with a laugh that you have brought him, you feel all 500 years spent drifting through space to find him, smack you right in the chest.

“It does, actually, you make a great point!” Your favorite genius chuckles up at you, a look in his eyes that has you reaching the same conclusion to the age-old philosophical question of whether heaven is real, because every time Spencer Reid looks you in the eye, you know you could argue to the ends of the earth with any philosopher that tries to tell you it isn’t. 

“Alright, Doc, I’m gonna go take a scheduled pee break but I expect another fascinating fact from you on my return!” You order playfully as you hop off of his desk, never any malice or sarcasm in your voice when you regard his seemingly endless knowledge. Spencer feels the sincere love you have for his facts, something few people have shown him. 

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise anything!” Spencer calls after you as you stroll towards the bathroom, your phone already in your hands, frantically typing a few texts to your best friend.

You: good god

You: I want him

You: so bad

Spencer’s retort catches you off guard, your thumbs slipping on your phone as you turn to look back at him, walking backwards and continuing to type without looking. 

“Spencer Reid, if there is ever anything that you can promise me, it’s a new fact with a few minutes prep, don’t lie to me!” You joke right back to him, the two of you sharing a laugh across the office as you reach the bathroom and disappear behind the door.

As you lean against the bathroom door, you release the breath you were holding in your lovesick chest and smile so hard your face hurts. In the midst of your recovery from such a wholesome interaction with your favorite person, you hit send on the text you’d typed, your eyes closed as you relive Spencer’s smile again and again.

You: it physically hurts

Then, your phone makes a peculiar sound that causes your heart to sing. Spencer’s text tone, specially selected so that you never get your hopes up at anyone else’s text tone coming through. As if your thoughts summoned him, Spencer has texted you, despite the fact you were speaking to him mere seconds ago. However, as you glance down at your phone to see his message, your blood runs cold. Much to your absolute horror, you have somehow managed to send that last message you typed and sent without looking, not to your best friend like the previous messages, but directly to the subject of the conversation.

Spencer: What physically hurts? Are you okay? Do you need help? 

The panic response in your body is so real it’s scary, every fiber of your being screaming in utter hysteria as you run your hand through your hair with eyes like a deer in headlights. This is the worst possible mistake to have made, but, maybe you can white-lie your way out of this, since that message didn’t mention Spencer by name. Frantically, you type out your response back to him.

You: Spencer I am so sorry omg Im fine that message was not meant for you 

Nodding to yourself, you take some deep breaths. Spencer is never one to invade a person’s privacy outside of it being professionally required to do so and by revealing so little in your reply, you are communicating that the matter is private and was unintentionally, partially revealed to him. 

Spencer: Oh, okay. Still, if you are in any kind of pain, please let me know; if there is anything I can do to help/anything I can get you, I will.

And, of course, Doctor Spencer Reid manages to make you smile like an idiot with such a simple, sweet text.

You: thanks, Spence, that’s really kind of you. Im ok tho, I promise!! :)

Spencer: Hold on, you went to the bathroom and complained of pain - is it your menstrual cycle? I have towels and tampons in my desk.

Your eyes widen at his boldness, but also sweetness, to ask such a thing. How cute, he thinks you’re embarrassed to admit to him that you are on your period and not at all completely humiliated by your massive crush on him, almost being exposed in its entirety because you were, ironically, distracted by him.

You: nono, trust me, Im ok!! 

Frowning in sudden confusion, you are quick to type out another text before Spencer responds to your first one.

You: why do you have those?

Spencer: I am a doctor, I work with people who menstruate and should not have to pay for such things if I have some that I can provide for free. 

And he has you smiling like a lovesick idiot. Again. 

You: wow, that’s really sweet Spence :’)

Spencer: Is It? Thank you! B)

Another confused frown furrows your brow as you stare at your phone screen quizzically.

You: what’s “B)”

Spencer: Sunglasses face. A cool guy. B) 

God bless this man and his total inability to use actual emojis, you are having to stifle your laughter with a hand over your mouth because otherwise you are certain the entire office would hear you.

You: omg of course it is! so cute!!

Spencer: B)

The second you see it on your screen again, you are trying to contain your laughter a second time. His ability to be completely and utterly adorable is unmatched.

Spencer: You have been in the bathroom for some time and have not yet clarified the reason for texting someone that you were in physical pain. Are you absolutely certain that you are alright? 

Panic begins to set in again as you consider your options, none of which including confessing the truth from within the bathroom stall you are hiding in.

You: look, I cant tell you the reason I texted that but I promise you I am absolutely fine!! 

The moment the ‘read’ symbol appears by your last text, there’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey sweetpea, boy-wonder told me you were in some kind of pain, is everything alright in there? Do you need a tamp? A hot water bottle? Some soup? A-” While your dear friend, Penelope Garcia, continues to list things that you could possibly need, through the bathroom door, you are frantically typing to Spencer again.

You: did you send Pen over here

He responds diligently, of course.

Spencer: I am sorry if I have breached your privacy at all, I thought you might feel more comfortable talking to Penelope about whatever is going on, but I hope you know you can always talk to me about anything.

Sighing and closing your eyes in a pained blink, you call out. “I’m fine, Pen, seriously!”

But, ever the carer of the team, Penelope will not let that slide. “Well, I’m not leaving until you come out here and prove it to me.”

Now, you are physically and emotionally cornered. There is absolutely no way that Penelope will let you out of here without an explanation, and there is absolutely no way that you can lie to her, either. Alright, time to bite the bullet.

“Pen…if I come out, you must promise to take me straight to your office and I’ll tell you everything, but you cannot tell a soul, okay?” You ask her through the door, and you can practically hear the gossip-loving cogs in her brain turning on the other side.

“You got it, sweetness! C’mon out!” Penelope calls, and you take a deep breath, shoving your phone in your back pocket before unlocking the door and stepping back into the office.

Immediately, Penelope swings an arm around you and leads you to her office with haste. All the while, you can feel a certain pair of very attractive, swoon-inducing eyes on you, worrying after you.

The second you are alone together in her office, Penelope sits you down and pulls her chair up to sit opposite you, taking ahold of your hands.

“Spill it!”

You sigh, avoiding her eyes. “This is about to be the most humiliating confession of my life.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, her pupils practically dilating at the raised stakes of what this gossip could entail. “No, no, come on, this is a safe space!”

You nod. “I know, I know, but…admitting aloud to any member of the team is something I hoped I’d avoid forever.” You chuckle in disbelief. “Basically, I was texting my friend some very private things and then got distracted by Spencer and accidentally sent him one of the texts- it’s probably just easier if I show you.” You decide, retrieving your phone and showing her the texts you had originally been sending to your best friend, then the one you accidentally sent to Spencer. 

Penelope’s jaw drops. “Oh my goodness! Who are you talking about in those texts?!”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Go on, Pen, take a guess. Who is the one person I wouldn’t want to find out about my crush, except for the crush himself.”

And Penelope Garcia’s jaw has hit the floor, she is in a state of shock. So severely, in fact, you have to wave a hand in front of her face.

“Earth to Penelope?” You ask, amused. 

She blinks rapidly at you, her spirit seemingly returning to her as she starts to squeal. “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! I knew it, I absolutely knew it!”

Then, your phone dings, a text tone that sends goosebumps rippling up your arm. 

Spencer: Is everything okay? I am sorry if I upset you by telling Penelope, I was just concerned for you. Can I talk to you before we leave for the day, please?

Without hesitation, you show the text to Penelope, seeking her moral support in your time of need. “Now that you know what’s going on, please help me, what the hell am I supposed to do?!”

The technical analyst spins in her chair, typing away on her keyboard before bringing up a direct feed of one of the security cameras inside the main office. The two of you can see Spencer, sitting at his desk with his bag and coat on, ready to leave for the day, but glancing between his phone and the text he’s sent you that’s now showing as ‘read’ and Penelope’s office door, with a worried expression.

“Honestly, sweetpea, I don’t think you’ve got a choice but to tell him. The two of you are so close, he’ll see right through any white-lie you tell him and worry even more that he’s done something to upset you. The most painless way out of this is to just tell him the truth.” Penelope says, wincing at her own words as she looks at you because she knows how much it would hurt to have someone tell her that, if she were in your situation. 

Looking back up at Spencer on the monitor, seeing his worried expression, your heart aches at the thought of making him overthink about something he’s said or done, never wanting to cause him that kind of distress.

Sighing in defeat, you nod. “You’re right, Pen.”

Fixing your gaze back on your phone screen, you start to type, not missing the way Spencer’s eyes light up on the monitor at the notification of you typing back to him.

You: sorry Spence, I didn't mean to worry you, I'm all good! now coming :)

As silly as it is, the smiley face you send him brings a small smile to Spencer’s actual face, and that gives you the only confidence you need to rise from your seat. 

“Good luck, sweetness!” Penelope squeals, pulling you into a hug before practically shoving you out of her office.

Stepping into Spencer’s line of sight, he immediately starts walking over to you.

“Hey, I’m so sorry that I told Garcia, I know I shouldn’t have-” He begins to ramble, but your smile stops him in his tracks.

“You don’t need to apologize, Spencer, I promise, everything is fine. Are you ready to head out?” You ask him as he follows you over to your own desk, so that you can collect your own jacket and bag. 

“Y-Yeah.” He replies nervously, very obviously still worrying because you haven’t told him the whole truth yet, rendering him unable to settle.

The two of you walk to the elevator in silence, but as the doors close, isolating the two of you, you take a deep breath.

“You’re going to think my explanation is ridiculous, just to pre-warn you.”

Spencer frowns seriously, turning to face you, giving you his full attention. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous, not to me. What’s going on?” His voice is so soft that it has you weak at the knees, which does not make this any easier. 

“I was texting a friend of mine and then carried on typing when I looked back to answer you, meaning I accidentally sent the next text to you.” The explanation is simple, in essence, but Spencer is nodding along like you are reciting some holy scripture. Biting the bullet completely this time, you pass Spencer your phone with shaking hands, allowing him to read the texts you sent your friend.

“But…you sent these after talking with me? While still talking with me?” He asks quizzically, for a moment blinded by his own obliviousness and a sadness settles in his heart because he truly believes you were thinking of some other guy when just speaking to him, but as the more logical conclusion presents itself to him, Spencer’s eyes widen.

You are unable to look at him, your gaze fixed on the closed elevator doors in front of you as you gently take your phone and conceal it back in your pocket. “Yep.” Is, somehow, the only word you can muster. 

Spencer parts his lips to speak, but the elevator doors open, and you all but make a break for it.

“Sorry. See you tomorrow, Spencer.” You blurt out hurriedly as you speed walk out of the building and into the parking lot, feeling physically sick as tears blur your vision, knowing you have single handedly ruined whatever wonderful friendship Spencer appreciates you for sharing with him, knowing your fate of a tear soaked pillow awaits you the second you arrive home. 

“(Y/N), wait, please!” Spencer calls out after you, his voice alone strong enough to stop you on your march. 

Turning to face him, Spencer’s heart breaks at the sight of the tears escaping your eyes. “Spencer, I am so, so sorry. I know you don’t like physical contact, I know you have never so much as glanced at me in the only way I’ve ever been able to look at you, and I want you to know I tried absolutely everything to stop myself falling for you because I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation like this, but every new thing I learn about you just makes me love you more than I thought possible and every time you smile at me you remind me what the definition of beautiful is, as though I’d ever forget when you exist to be just that in every conceivable way, and I’m so sorry or making you worry and care for me and that now you’ve got no choice but to process all of this and with your eidetic memory you’re not going to be able to forget it which makes things even more awkward for you and-”

Spencer interrupts your breathless, tearful ramble by pulling you into his arms, tucking your head into his chest.

“Breathe, (Y/N), please.” He asks, so softly, with such care and compassion you can only cry into his coat. 

For a few minutes, that is how you stay, crying in his arms as he holds you there, gently shushing you, one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your head to his chest, his fingertips caressing your hair in a way that makes it very difficult for you to focus on anything else. But, when Spencer hears your tears settle into sniffles, your breaths returning to normal, he parts his lips to speak.

“500 years through time and space.” He says, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Unfortunately, in your heartbroken state, you don’t quite catch on. “Yeah, friends have always got to be kind and appreciate each other, I remember.” You nod, pulling away from Spencer to wipe your eyes. 

As your vision clears, you see the smile on his face, and Spencer shakes his head at you. “The saying is specifically tailored to soulmates, I only added the friendship clarification because I didn’t want to be too forward.” He holds your gaze, reading your eyes as you return to the wavelength you’ve always shared. “Actually, the next fact I was going to tell you when you came out of the bathroom, the new fact you asked for on your return, was going to be that a study conducted by the University of California found that when someone is in love, their heartbeat synchronizes itself with that of the person they are in love with. And I was, then, going to ask to check your heart-rate, because I am a Doctor, after all.” He chuckles bashfully, pulling the stethoscope from his bag and shyly hiding it in there again once you acknowledge it.

There’s no way you can keep your cool at this point, the bright smile on your face is impossible to conceal. “How long have you had that stethoscope in there in preparation for telling me that fact?”

Spencer does not hesitate with his answer. “4 months, 18 days and 6 hours.”

You nod slowly. “So, you’ve been sure for a while, then?”

Spencer nods back at you, his own smile widening. “For 4 months, 18 days, 6 hours and 3 minutes, to be exact.”

You can’t help giggling at that. “500 years, 4 months, 18 days, 6 hours, and 3 minutes later, here we are. Sorry, I took the long way round.” You joke, taking a nervous step towards him, and Spencer meets you halfway. 

“I think we both did.” His words are quiet, his breath on your lips as he leans down to you, smile to smile and heart to heart for the first time in your lives. 

It’s you that rises to your tiptoes to close the final gap between you, your lips meeting his and immediately sighing against them, truly feeling that you have waited each and every one of those 500 years for this kiss alone. Spencer’s large hands cup your face so gently, and your hands hold his there, stars and butterflies whirling around you in a bliss shared between two souls that took their sweet time in coming back to each other. 

As a thought enters your mind, you break away from the kiss to laugh lightly.

“What is it?” Spencer asks quietly, but he’s already laughing with you.

“Two hearts, beating together?” You say, giggling to yourself as the realization flashes in Spencer’s eyes, too, so much so that he finishes the thought for you.

“You’re absolutely right, that is a bit Doctor-Who!”

[paperclipninja]

I know that Aziraphale's words/actions/reactions of the final-fifteen™ have been dissected and discussed (and will continue to be I hope because I live for the theories and analysis!) and caused many and varied opinions, but I think in the emotional chaos of that final episode, it's easy to overlook the opening 1 minute and 11 seconds.

Because episode 5 flows straight into episode 6, I feel like we get caught up in the

of it all (me included!). But what we see in the opening moments of the final episode is Aziraphale taking control, giving clear directions to JimGabriel, even when Nina asks if she can ask 'just one simple question', his response, 'if I hear one, of course' somehow holds a certain authority. Even his answer, 'three questions, none of them simple' - I can't explain it, but there is a specific choice there that Michael has made in delivering these lines, to show that when required, Aziraphale has command.

We see capable, calm Aziraphale working to come up with a plan, yes, but we also see the takes-no-shit Aziraphale when Shax throws open the bookshop doors and threatens, 'you're going to let us in, whether you like it or not'.

Aziraphale is unwavering here. I'd even go so far to say, fierce. His drop in tone, his stance, there isn't even an option here for Shax.

Aside from the terrible image quality, what we see here is Aziraphale's ability to be protector and commander.

I cannot help but feel that it is very deliberate that we are reminded at the very beginning of episode 6 of this side of Aziraphale, that he is not simply easily manipulated or bullied. Bookend it with that final moment, in the elevator on his way back to heaven

Whether any or none of the theories floating around turn out to be true, one thing that has been set in motion from that first scene in the final episode is that Aziraphale is an angel who can and will stand his ground, take control and do what he needs to to protect what's important. And I'm going to guess that will come to pass pretty early on next season and that heaven will have underestimated the angel for the last time.

[hyperactively-me]

Hear me out…King Ghost is wearing a white shirt and he somehow falls into a pond/lake in front of his wife. When he gets out of the water his white shirt is completely transparent and (y/n) can see everything. And while Simon is trying to get out of the lake he just sees his wife looking at him like 👀.

(In reality, a king’s shirt shouldn’t be flimsy and thin enough to be that transparent but I think it is a funny thought if Simon specifically got thin white shirts so his wife would check him out bc he’s a little slut for his wife but she doesn’t know that yet shhhh.)

omg bestie please this is the scene from bridgerton we all know and dearly love!!!!! yes!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden, glow across the lake. The winter season had finally passed, the snow gone and melted. Spring had sprung. King Ghost guided a small rowboat through the gentle water, the oars of the boat skimming over the water languidly.

As the boat glided effortlessly across the water, you sat back, enjoying the gentle breeze and the soothing lull of the water. You peek your head over the side of the boat for a moment, staring at your wavy reflection in the water.

“The spring here is beautiful, Simon,” you say, running a hand in the cool water.

“I thought you would like it,” he says, continuing to row the boat, each stroke of the oars propelling you both towards the dock. “Kastron is known for its wildflower fields, super blooms occur here in the springtime, especially during the rainy season.” 

“Oh wow! That sounds amazing, you’ll have to take me to see them sometime,” you smile, looking back up at him from the water. 

As the boat drifts, you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh spring air. It's a welcome break from the formalities and duties in the palace, and a chance for the two of you to be together.

Spending time with him was all you wanted a few months ago, and since then, he’s made a continuous and honest effort to spend time with you, and you with him. Honestly, you’ve grown to truly have an affection for him, a real liking for him, a stark difference from the time you first met him.

The sunlight dances on the surface of the lake, casting a shimmering reflection. You find yourself lost in the beauty of the moment, the gentle ripples of the water, and the soothing sounds of nature all around you.

Simon's strong arms work in time with the boat, his gaze never leaving you. He shifts slightly, thinking of something to say. "I had hoped this outing would be a pleasant surprise," he says, his tone soft and earnest.

You lean closer to him, reaching out to caress his cheek with your hand. “It is more than pleasant, Simon. It's perfect.”

His brown eyes, once reserved and guarded, now shine with warmth. He briefly stops rowing, allowing the boat to drift for a moment as he leans in to kiss the palm of your hand. 

"I'm glad to hear that," he whispers, his lips grazing your skin. "I wanted to show you a different side of Kastron, just you and me.”

You can't help but blush, feeling a flutter in your chest. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, and it was moments like these that made you realize just how much you enjoyed his company. You've come to appreciate his dedication to his people, his sense of duty, and his unwavering support for you.

The boat drifted to a halt by the lakeside, and Simon gracefully rose to disembark. But, without warning, his foot caught on the edge of the boat's wooden plank, and he stumbled, pitching forward into the cool water. 

You gasped, your heart leaped in your chest as you watched him vanish beneath the surface with a splash. Your first instinct was to reach out, to help him, but you remained frozen, unable to take your eyes off the scene unfolding before you.

Simon resurfaced, water dripping from his tousled, sandy blonde hair, and that's when you noticed it. His once perfectly pressed white shirt now clung to him like a second skin, rendered completely transparent by the water. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw every curve and contour of his physique, the strong lines of his chest, and the ripple of his muscles beneath the wet fabric.

Your husband, the king, stood before you, basically exposed, yet somehow looks more alluring than ever. You didn’t have to know he tripped on purpose. Hell, he’s way too coordinated for a fall as simple as that. He only did it to impress you, to get into your subconscious. But you don’t have to know.

“Simon!” you cry out, springing up from your seat. The boat rocks as you push yourself up from your seat, leaning over the boat. You jump over your seat, extending a hand to Simon. 

He takes your hand with a sheepish grin, water dripping from his soaked clothes. “Well, that was—" he says, chuckling.

You can't help but stare, you really can’t. You help pull him back on the boat, watching his arms flex as he pulls himself up. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine, but you do your best to focus. “Are you okay?”

Simon nods, water droplets splattering around him. “I'm perfectly fine, just a bit wet,” he replies, slipping his shirt off. You are now staring unabashedly at his now bare chest, his muscles and abs rippling as he starts to wring out his shirt as best he can. 

“O– okay” you gulp, nodding. 

“What is it?” he asks, nonchalant.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, just…you falling startled me a bit,” your eyes darted around, your face growing extremely warm.

“Hm. Well, I am sorry for startling you—”

“No, don’t be sorry at all!” you laugh slightly, brushing hair from your face.

“Alright, I’m not sorry, then,” he says, now fully grinning at you. “I saw you staring.”

Your mouth goes agape for a split second, then you flounder, spluttering about how you weren’t staring. 

“I wasn’t staring!” you say incredulously, exaggerating your reaction. 

“You definitely were, darling.” 

“No I wasn’t!”

He just laughs, shaking his head. He turns, hiding his face from you for a moment. God, he’s obsessed with you.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[wonusite]

Glacial Pace

❝ You’ve been in love with Xu Minghao from the moment he put a bandage on your cut at the age of six. When he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get his prying family off his back, you quickly realize that keeping your feelings hidden from him will be next to impossible. Especially since your meddling friends are determined to have you admit your feelings before the holiday season is over. ❞

pairing: xu minghao x female reader

genre: fake dating au, friends to lovers, fluff, smut

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fake dating, meddling friends (they mean well i swear), mutual pining, moms saved this fic, lots of repressed feelings, unprotected sex, soft sex, creampie, cockwarming

a/n: this is part of the snowventeen collab! so happy to have been part of it! minors dni.

“We’re friends, right?”

You try to pretend the question doesn’t send you into a vague panic. Every time this question that isn’t really a question comes out of Minghao's mouth, you know he’s setting up to ask you for a favor. Judging by his tone you can tell that what he’s going to ask probably isn’t something easy, but because you were just slightly in love with him, it was foreseeable that you were going to agree to do whatever he asked of you.

“Yes, Hao. We’re friends.”

As much as you wished there was something more, that was the extent of your relationship. But that was fine. The heartbreak had dulled with the years.

“And friends help each other, right?”

You give Minghao an exasperated look. It’s not like him to beat around the bush for long, but he seems oddly reluctant this time. Even so, he doesn’t visibly show it. He leans further into the mountain of pillows you have on your bed with a subtle pout on his lips. You shouldn’t find the old hoodie and worn jeans he’s wearing this attractive, but Minghao always has a way of looking amazing in everything he wears.

“Are you gonna tell me what you want, or are you gonna keep asking me questions you already know the answers to?” You finally say, hoping you’re able to successfully hide how attracted you are to him.

“I need your help.” Before you could ask him what he needed from you this time, Minghao is sitting up and shoving his phone into your hands. “Read that.”

His phone is unlocked and opened to a group chat with what appears to be the majority of his extended family. You skim through the messages, trying desperately to hold back the amused smile on the edge of your lips.

Minghao frowns when you don’t immediately freak out. You were the one person he could count on to be on his side, but right now you don’t seem to think what his family is demanding of him is outrageous. He keeps staring at you, still waiting for you to give him the response he was expecting.

You look up from the screen, unable to keep the laughter out of your voice. “How does your aunt know you’ve been abstinent for a year?”

Minghao’s right eye twitches slightly as he snatches his phone back from you. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What else do you want me to say? That you’re the worst liar ever?” You laugh to distract yourself from the stuffy feeling growing in your chest.

At least, you hope what Minghao said to his family is a lie. After all these years, you still hadn’t managed to completely block out the feelings that came with being in love with Xu Minghao. All you can do is hope none of the tormenting feelings consuming you show on your face.

“Unless you are dating someone.”

Somehow, you manage to pretend that the very thought doesn’t sting as much as it does.

“You know I’m not.” Minghao scowls at you. “But that’s not the point. You have to help me because now they think I’m gonna bring someone home for winter break!”

It’s embarrassing how fast the knot in your chest dissolves. You take a mental deep breath and focus on giving Minghao the help he wants. “Just say your girlfriend is gonna visit her own family, or that she’s not ready to meet them yet.”

Minghao looks like he’s two seconds away from bursting a vein, but you aren’t entirely sure why. He was capable of being a master manipulator whenever he wanted to. A lie of this magnitude was something he could easily manage. It’s not like he hadn’t done it before. Still, part of you is sympathetic since your own mother had sent you a series of similar messages.

“My mom is already getting the cabin ready. It’s too late to back out now!”

This wouldn’t seem like a big deal, but you knew Minghao’s mom. She was the sweetest lady ever except when someone made her angry or disobeyed her. That’s why whenever she decided something, no one dared to go against her wishes or question her. Whatever she said was law. At least, in the Xu household it was.

“I don’t know how you expect me to help you. Your mom loves me, but even I can’t save you if she finds out you lied to her—”

“She won’t find out.” Minghao suddenly becomes unsettlingly calm. “Not when I tell her I’m dating you.”

By some sort of divine grace, you manage to not choke on your own spit. Instead you blink slowly, trying to pretend that his words don’t awaken something into you that is definitely not platonic.

“That won’t work!” You sound borderline hysterical. “She’ll definitely know you’re lying if you say I’m the girlfriend told her about!”

Minghao’s plan isn’t actually half bad, but you’re desperate to find an excuse not to help him. There’s no way you can pretend to date the man you’ve been in love with for literal decades without unintentionally revealing your feelings.

“No she won’t! Do you know how long she’s wanted me to ask you out?” Minghao says, the desperation pushing him to accidentally reveal a detail he would’ve otherwise kept to himself.

You try not to be too happy that his mom likes the idea of you two together while also ignoring the faint blush rising to his face. Instead, you focus on trying to weasel your way out of helping him.

“My mom will find out I lied if I bring home some random who barely knows anything about me.” You’re running out of legitimate reasons to say no, and before you can think up some plausible excuse Minghao pouts at you. “Please? I can’t ask anyone else to do help me. It has to be you.”

You know he says these words in a completely platonic you’re my friend so I trust you kind of way, but your stupid idealistic heart can’t help but be moved by them. And so, you say the words you know you’ll regret, but will make your friend very happy.

“Okay. I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”

“At this point you should just confess."

Seungcheol is usually a pretty sensible guy, but this is hands down the worst advice you had ever gotten from him. And the fact that both Josh and Wonwoo are nodding their heads in agreement makes you think that they’ve all lost their minds.

“Cheol’s not wrong.” Josh says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “It’s been years, and you haven’t even fucked him yet!”

The scowl on your face deepens. “Shut up. You’re the one who said I should move on. How do you expect me to do that if I fuck him?”

“How are you going to move on if you’re spending all your entire winter break pretending to be his girlfriend and lying to both of your families?” Wonwoo wonders with an amused look on his face.

You feel your face get hot, because yeah, it wasn't your best plan, and it did seem like it was a step backward in moving on, but details. “I’m just helping him! After this I’m going to go out and get a real boyfriend.”

Your friends share an unconvinced look. Seungcheol is the first to break the silence, signature deadpan expression in place. “So, acting out your fantasy of dating Minghao is going to help you get over him? Explain to us how that works.”

Now that it’s said out loud, you realize it sounds kind of stupid. Even so, you can’t very well tell Minghao that you don’t want to help him anymore. “Okay, so maybe it’s not the best plan, but since you guys are coming you have to help me so I don’t get too sucked into my role and expose myself.”

Your friends agree, but what you don’t realize is that they have a plan of their own to help you get what you want.

If your friends thought they were being subtle, they weren’t.

You noticed right away that they were nudging you and Minghao together. This was all under the excuse of helping you two get into your little act before reaching the small town you two grew up in. At first you didn’t say anything because you more than likely would’ve ended up sitting by Minghao anyway, but it was only until they started insisting you two hold on to each other and hold hands that you had enough.

As soon as Seungcheol pulled into the gas station and Minghao went inside with Wonwoo, you smacked the back of his and Josh’s heads. “What the fuck are you guys doing!?” You hiss, digging your nails into your palm.

Seungcheol glares at you, an expression of disbelief on his face. “You asked for our help! Doing all this cringy shit will turn you off from wanting to be in a relationship with Minghao!”

“And once you see how clueless he is at being in a relationship it’ll turn you off even more!” Josh chimes in as he rubs the back of his head.

Their words sound so utterly ridiculous and like a clear form of gaslighting. You don’t get a chance to say anything else because you see Wonwoo and Minghao on their way back.

“You guys aren’t helping so stop.” You hiss before the door is pulled open.

Luckily your friends say nothing as Minghao gets back into the car. You think that’s the end of it, but you’re very very wrong.

It’s not until you’re pulling into the driveway of the large cabin with two nosy families waiting outside that you belatedly realize that you’ve made a huge mistake.

You didn’t fully think out what helping Minghao really meant. Sure, you had known that you were going to be forced to confront Minghao’s nosy family, but you forgot to add your own prying family to the mix. You only hope that they don’t mention how you’ve been in love with your (fake) boyfriend for the two last decades.

You’re met with loud greetings, and soon enough dozens of people start to crowd the car as you all get off. It’s almost like you’re in a daze when you get pulled into ten different hugs in the span of thirty seconds, but it’s oddly comforting. Despite the situation, you had missed home and were happy to be back.

Somehow you manage to get away long enough to grab your things from the trunk. You’re hoping that everything goes smoothly as you start to make your way to the Xu family’s cabin, but as always, luck isn’t on your side.

“I got it, love.” Minghao says as he forcibly takes your bags from you, but not before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

Vaguely, you recognize the loud shrieking of the children that saw your kiss and the cooing from the older women who loved young romance. But even through all that, you manage to see your idiot friends colluding with proud smirks on their faces.

Wonwoo is the one they send to approach you, but he expectedly doesn’t repent for what he and the two other fools clearly made happen. “If you plan on deceiving both of your families, you have to stop acting like you’ve never kissed Minghao before.”

With that, he gently pushes you to join everyone else inside. You can’t be fully angry because his words are infuriatingly true. Luckily for you, everyone seemed to be too caught up in the holiday cheer to notice your little slip up.

“Why didn’t you tell me you finally bagged my cousin!?”

You look over to see one of Minghao’s older cousins grinning at you. It’s a relief to see her because in all the madness, she was usually the voice of reason. That and she was the one who kept your hidden love a secret the longest out of everyone who knew.

“Sorry! It all happened so fast, and we didn’t want to say anything in case it didn’t work out—”

“Trust me, I get it. Remember when I had to tell everyone about Jun at my graduation?”

You both laugh as you recall the time she had dropped the atomic bomb that she was living with Minghao’s childhood best friend at her graduation party.

“How long are you going to be here until you finally say hello to your mother?”

Minghao’s cousin gives you a sympathetic wave goodbye as your mom pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. You snuggle into her familiar warmth, hoping her embrace can provide you with the comfort you’re suddenly needing.

“Why was I the last to find out you’re finally dating Minghao?” She demands straight away after you pull back.

You apologize profusely, repeating the same excuse you gave Minghao’s cousin. That seems to placate her—for now—but she does insist on hearing every last detail about how you two got together. It’s both relieving and nerve wracking.

“I’m sure you’re happy. You’ve liked him since he helped you back home when you fell on the sidewalk.” Your mom recalls with a smile. “That race car bandaid he put on the cut meant so much to you, remember? You wouldn’t let me replace it—”

“Mom.” You quietly stress, frantically looking around to see if anyone had heard her. “You better not mention any of that! I promise I’ll tell you everything later, but right now please don’t embarrass me!”

She only looks at you with an amused glint in her eye. “Fine, but you’ll have to have that conversation with him sooner or later.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was working with your no-good friends.

Your mom would’ve interrogated you further had it not been for the fact that she saw Joshua talking to Minghao’s mom. She barely told you she’d be back as she went straight for the boy who’d captured her heart back in your freshman year of college.

You slightly jump when a pair of arms gently wrap around you. Minghao’s cologne is engraved in your mind at this point, and you actually hate the fact that it comforts you.

“You have to act more natural.” His voice is teasing. “Otherwise everyone will think my love is one-sided.”

You manage to let out a weak laugh. It was clear that you were too in your head about the entire situation, and it was also clear that you were about to unintentionally reveal the feelings you’d worked so hard to hide.

“Just relax.” His lips brush the shell of your ear. “Moms are happy and busy trying to find out why sweet ol’ Shua still doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

The laugh you let out is louder and more genuine, and Minghao feels an intense warmth spread through his chest at the pretty sound. When you turn around in his arms to look straight at him, he wonders if this is all some lovely dream. If it is, he hopes he never has to wake up.

“Come on. Let’s go check out our room.”

He smiles broadly when he grabs your hand and let yourself be whisked away.

“You’re enjoying yourself a little too much.”

Minghao’s fond smile slowly slips off his face when he’s confronted by a smirking Seungcheol. He clears his throat and squints his eyes at his friend. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You hate ice skating.” Cheol points out. “But you’re having the time of your life just watching Y/N do it.”

He can’t deny this because there’s just something about the happy grin on your face as you beat Wonwoo and two of your cousins at a race around the rink for the fifth time that makes him feel an intense amount of affection and joy.

“She makes it look fun.” Minghao says honestly, not willing to reveal the other part why he feels so endeared.

Seungcheol hums, finding it extremely amusing how both you and Minghao were so unwilling to admit what was so obvious to everyone else. “I bet she’d have even more fun if you got out there with her.”

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he hears his friend’s tone. At that moment, it becomes clear that Seungcheol is very much aware of what Minghao thought he’d been so good at hiding.

“Hao!” A comforting voice calls.

You’re gliding towards him with a bright smile on your face, and despite the nerves eating at his gut, he manages to return it.

“Come skate with me.”

It’s almost comedic how quick he is to obey your wish. He ignores the whistles and hollers from his friends as he literally clings on to you the second he’s on the ice. Your honeyed laugh is all that’s calming him at the moment since he’s feels like he might fall flat on his face on the hard ice.

“Don’t be so scared.” You say as you move at a snail's pace. “I won’t let you fall.”

Minghao’s heart starts pounding for an entirely different reason. Instead of staring down at his trembling legs, he’s focused on you and the warmth coming from your hands. Your grip tightens as you slowly increase your pace. It’s like you two are in your own little world as you laugh and glide around the ice.

You both are on a blissful high even when you return to the cabin. Surprisingly enough, it feels completely normal for you two to get into bed together, wrapped up in each other’s arms—just in case someone were to surprise you in the morning, of course.

There’s this natural domesticity between you two, but you’re just convinced that Minghao is just so desperate to get his family off his back that he’s putting his heart and soul into this act. It’s fine, well, it’s mostly fine. Even though everything up to this point has been fake, you’re still happy that you got to live out your deepest fantasy. Now you could move on, painful as it may be.

You try not to think about that as you walk into the holiday party hand in hand with Minghao.

The atmosphere is warm and welcoming like it is every year. You try to pretend that you don’t want to let go of Minghao’s hand when his mother steals you away to help her in the kitchen. This was it. You know she doesn’t really need your help when she asks you to neatly place the cookies she’s baked on a large plate. She’s called you in to question you about your relationship with her son. Honestly, you were surprised she hadn’t done it sooner.

“I’ve never seen my son so happy.” She begins, a gentle smile on her face. “I’m glad he finally made you his girlfriend. I thought he’d never confess his feelings.”

You wonder if Minghao’s mom is being serious, but then you remember who you’re talking to. She’s not the type to spare feelings, not even yours.

“Why’d you think that?”

“Honey, I love you, but you’re really oblivious sometimes.” She laughs fondly. “My son has liked you for a long time. Do you know how heartbroken he was when you started dating that Jihoon boy? I thought he’d never get over it.”

Lee Jihoon? As in the guy you dated two years ago?

“But I’m glad to see that you finally like him in the way he likes you.”

You try to keep a straight face as if your mind isn’t now overcrowded with unfiltered thoughts. The way your heart is pounding against your chest is almost dizzying. “I think I like him more than he likes me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Minghao’s mom says with a sly grin that you recognize all too well. “While we’re on the topic, let me enlighten you—”

Meanwhile, Minghao is busy with your mom. A similar conversation is taking place—so similar that anyone might’ve thought the two women had planned it.

“You don’t know how happy I am that you and Y/N are finally together.” Her warm smile makes him feel a bit guilty.

“Finally?” Minghao laughs curiously.

“Yes, finally. I was starting to think you’d never return my daughter’s feelings.”

Minghao feels his heart pounding and his head swimming almost like he’s suddenly disoriented. Surely there’s no way your mom could be implying that…?

“You didn’t?”

Oblivious to Minghao’s sudden shift in attitude, your mom keeps talking. “Y/N has always loved you. I think it started around the time you moved into the neighborhood all those years ago. She would go around saying how she wanted to marry you.”

Minghao is physically unable to say anything, but that doesn’t matter to your mom. She carries on like he’s not on the verge of imploding.

“I remember how devastated she was when you took Chaeyoung to prom instead of her. She had turned down that nice boy from her math class because she hoped you would ask her. I’ve never seen her cry so much.”

Your mom sounds like she’s fondly recalling the past, but Minghao feels like he suddenly can’t breathe. The memory is vivid in his mind now. You hadn’t gone even when he insisted that you could go with him and Chaeyoung. Back then he had believed you when you told him you didn’t feel like going.

“Anyway, I’m glad you finally returned her feelings.”

“Yeah.” Minghao says feeling completely winded. “Me too.”

There’s an unspoken tension when you and Minghao get back to the cabin. You’re sure it’s purely because of you and what his mom had said. It’s obvious that you’re too in your head because you can tell your friend feels tense.

“What did my mom tell you?”

The question startles you out of your tormenting thoughts. You awkwardly stutter, wondering if you should lie or not. “I– Well—”

Minghao is staring at you intently, and you know there’s no point in lying to him.

“She told me that she’s happy you finally confessed to me.” Your voice isn’t as strong as you wish so you cover it up with a laugh. “I guess I was worried for nothing. She thinks you actually like me.”

It’s silent for a moment before Minghao speaks, serious as ever. “I do like you.”

You wish you could play his words off like they meant nothing, but you had been waiting literal years to hear him say those three little words, and you can’t pretend to be unaffected by them.

“I’ve liked you for a long time.” Minghao says as he slowly approaches you.

He’s standing directly in front of you now, and you’re not sure how to react. His eyes are shining with unadulterated affection as he waits for your response. Your head is spinning, but you still manage to answer him.

“I’ve liked you longer.”

Your face burns with embarrassment. It’s not like you meant to say that, but your nerves got the best of you. It doesn’t matter though because Hao seems to love it. His grin is full of endearment.

“Long enough to want to marry me?” He teases lightly.

Apparently, neither of your moms had any actual intention of keeping your embarrassing secrets. You soldier on and try to pretend you’re not mortified that your mom exposed you.

“I don’t know. I can’t marry someone who doesn’t know how to please me.”

His eyes darken instantly, and you hold back a smirk at how easily that worked him up. By now, Minghao has gotten so close that you can see every last detail on his face.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, but it hardly matters because Minghao’s lips are so soft, and the way he’s kissing you makes you feel like you’re floating. The way he pulls you closer while shoving his tongue in your mouth is dizzying.

Everything happens so fast. Before you know it clothes are being ripped off in between messy, wet kisses. You two fall on the bed, naked bodies pressing against each other with a passionate need. Minghao pulls back and cups your cheek tenderly. He affectionately bumps his nose against yours before he kisses you again.

Minghao’s hands feel hot as they trail down your body. His long fingers trail over your every curve, hands pressing against your breasts, pulling lightly at your nipples until he has you moaning into his mouth. It’s his favorite sound, he decides. He can’t contain his grin as he continues kneading your tits.

“Hao.” You mewl when his lips start to wander down your neck, affectionately tracing along your jaw and the column of your throat.

His dark hooded eyes are so pretty when they look up at you. Minghao only offers you an impish grin before he wraps his lips around your hard bud and sucks hard. He licks and bites around your nipple until you’re writhing underneath him, an intense heat building between your thighs as you tug at his hair. His dark strands are even messier than usual when he pulls off your nipple, but not before leaning down to press one more kiss to the soft curve of your tit.

Minghao trails his fingers down your sides, his teasing smirk back in place. “Want me to fuck you?”

There are times you hate his teasing nature. He must know how bad you want him since you’re literally dripping all over the sheets. However, since you’re so desperate, you’re not beneath begging.

“I need you to fuck me.” You say, not the slightest bit embarrassed.

There’s a slight pause where something in the atmosphere shifts to something more heavy.

Now Minghao’s gaze is heavy with affection as his thumb caresses your cheek. “I wasn’t completely honest before. What I feel for you... it’s more than that.” Minghao swallows deeply, feeling like his heart jumped into his throat. “I love you.”

His abrupt confession warms you up from the inside out. You can literally feel your entire chest be overcome with deep, unadulterated love as he nudges the fat tip of his cock against your fluttering cunt.

You wrap your arms around his slim waist and gently pull him closer, silently urging him to shove his dick inside you. “I love you too, Hao.”

The words are whispered against his lips before you capture them in an intimate kiss. You both swallow each other’s moans as he finally eases his thick cock into your dripping pussy.

Minghao lets out a gasp as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. He starts to press hot, open mouthed kisses against your skin, loving the little whimpers and moans you’re letting out. His cock is stretching you out, and it feels like you might fall apart as his fingers trail down your body to rub your clit. Minghao rubs you deliciously as he keeps easing into you.

Pleasure licks up Minghao’s cock when your hot cunt clamps down on him like it never wants to let him go. He hisses at your choked mewl, loving how you seem to melt into his touch.

“So tight, baby.” Minghao’s words are slightly slurred.

You moan wantonly when he finally shoves the remainder of his thick cock inside your welcoming cunt. Already, you’re gushing around him. His entire length and heavy balls are coated with your arousal as he finally settles deep inside you.

The feeling of your velvety walls sucking in his fat cock has Minghao groaning against you. His arms slide underneath you and wrap around your waist to lift your hips and pull you tighter against him. Minghao’s soft lips trail against your skin as he starts to fuck into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot.

You’re both entranced with each other, and at some point you two look down to watch where Minghao’s cock fucks into you. The pretty moans and whimpers spilling from your lips only spur him on, wanting to hear you as much as possible since this still feels like a beautiful dream to him.

“God,” you moan when he gives a particularly sharp thrust. “Feels so fucking good.”

Minghao’s hand grabs the underside of your knee and lifts your leg over his hip at your words. You both moan loudly because the new angle has his cock going impossibly deeper. Right then he knows that he won’t ever get sick of the feeling of your tight pussy milking him.

“Fuck, baby. I’ll never get enough of you.” Minghao moans as he leans down to kiss you again.

The feeling of his lips pressed against your as his cock drills into you makes you feel drunk. Minghao feels like he’s slowly unraveling with that way you start to fuck your hips up to meet his thrusts. Your creamy cunt clamping down on him has him fucking into you harder.

It’s safe to say Minghao is obsessed with every last bit of you. The way your body feels pressed against his, the pretty sounds you let out, the feeling of your warm wet cunt squeezing him like it wants every last drop of his cum.

You moan louder when you feel your legs being spread apart. Minghao is roughly fucking into you at a savage pace now, his weeping tip slamming against your sweet spot with every thrust. He loves how your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as your thigh tremble and shake. Your sweet cunt is spasming around his dick, and he knows it won’t be long until you’re creaming all over him.

A sense of urgency suddenly overcomes Minghao. To see you falling apart under him would be a dream come true, and he’s just that much more motivated to make it a reality. His next touches are sensual and tender, fingers caressing your clit over and over as his cock fucks into you and works you open.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to gush all over him. The sight of your head thrown back with your mouth dropped open to let out a blissful moan of his name is addicting. Minghao wants your fucked out expression imprinted in his mind. He doesn’t stop his motions because the feeling of you coming on his dick is absolute heaven.

Your mind is still fuzzy from your orgasm, but you’re lucid enough to see the purest form of love in his honeyed eyes. “Fuck. I love you so much.”

Your words have him stilling his hips, head falling to the crook of your neck as he comes hard. Minghao cries out your name, voice thick with affection. You smooth over your hair as you whisper gentle praises in his ear. He ruts inside you in pleasure as his hot cum fills you to the brim, showing you exactly just how much love he has for you.

After a moment, Minghao pulls his face out of your neck to look down at you. Unadulterated joy and ecstasy covers his face as he takes you in as if for the first time all over again. Your expression is no different, all the repressed emotions you held for him on full display now.

Minghao grinds into you one more times, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of his cum being fucked back inside of you. He leans forward, lips brushing against the soft flesh of your cheek. “I love you more than anything.”

He collapses by your side, cock still nestled inside you. The words make your heart flutter as you tug him impossibly closer and nuzzle against him.

“I love you too, Hao. Forever and always.”

Your sleepy smile makes him press a kiss to your forehead. Minghao watches as your eyes slowly close before tightening his hold on you. He can’t believe this is all real and not just a figment of his deepest desires, but as you unconsciously snuggle deeper into him, he knows that he’ll never be happier than he is now, with you.

It’s his last peaceful thought as he falls asleep with you in his arms.

“This is your fault.” Josh glares at Seungcheol who is trying but failing to eat his cereal in peace.

“You’re the one who went along with the plan which clearly worked.”

The loud moans filling the cabin are sickening, and they wonder if they’ve played themselves by helping you and Minghao confess to each other.

“Wonwoo isn’t bothered.” Seungcheol says as he nods his head to the catlike guy who’s sitting on the couch, staring at his phone.

“You know he’s wearing noise canceling earphones, right?” Josh scoffs.

Now Seungcheol feels really stupid because it was clear that they really had played themselves. And all because you and Minghao had to take your relationship at a glacial pace.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

[tigertales9]

Hard Reset XI

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff / Angst

Description: This chapter covers the week 9 win against the Bills and the week 10 loss against the Texans with a couple of flashbacks thrown in.

Time/Place: Tuesday, Nov. 7, 2023 - Tuesday, Nov. 14, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio (with flashbacks to New Orleans & NYC)

A/N: This is the eleventh fic in the Hard Reset series.

This chapter got totally out of hand, y'all. It jumps around a bit due to the flashbacks, so I hope it's not too hard to follow. It's also long as hell even though I tried to condense it as much as possible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, a proud smile gracing your lips as a blizzard of purple and gold confetti rains down on you from the roof of the Superdome in New Orleans.

"He did it," you whisper, brushing away happy tears as you return your attention to the field where Joe and his LSU teammates are celebrating one of the most impressive undefeated seasons in college football history. You take a deep breath and exchange hugs and high fives with everyone around you, never taking your eyes off of Joe for more than a few seconds while you wait for him to hoist the Championship trophy.

~ A month ago, you watched him hoist another trophy, the Heisman, at a ceremony in NYC. It was the largest margin of victory in the history of the award, and his speech was still being talked about. You knew the exact moment he went off script because he'd practiced the speech with you over and over, nervous that he'd forget to thank someone or somehow embarrass himself. Instead, he spoke from the heart and delivered an emotional Heisman speech that folks will be talking about for years to come. The impact of his heartfelt words -- bringing attention to the high poverty rate and food insecurity in Athens County -- was evident in the amount of donations pouring into the local food bank. The Joe Burrow Hunger Relief Fund was just getting started but showed no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

Joe was surprised at the outpouring of support, but it wasn't the only time he spoke something into existence. He spoke this Natty into existence when he transferred from Ohio State to LSU; from day one he told his new teammates that all they had to do was work harder than everyone else and the results would follow. He led by example, as always, first to arrive and last to leave, never asking for more effort from others than he was willing to give. The buy-in came swiftly for some and a little slower for others. By the end of his first season at LSU -- a very respectable 10-3 record culminating in a victory over UCF in the Fiesta Bowl (snapping UCF's 25-game winning streak, the longest in the nation at the time) -- even the most hardcore doubters were begrudgingly starting to admit that something special was brewing in Baton Rouge.

At the start of his final season at LSU, optimism was at an all-time high, but a few folks were still a little hesitant to believe that this team might catch lightning in a bottle and prove the naysayers wrong. One by one the dominoes fell, and by mid-season, even the skeptical were made into believers as one of the most dominant offenses in college football history rolled through opponents with an unrivaled flair and swagger. ~

Silent tears roll down your cheeks as you watch Joe lift the Championship trophy that he and his teammates worked so hard for, his expression showing equal parts accomplishment and relief; you take a deep breath as you soak in the moment, the love you feel for him -- your fiancé since about a month ago, although nobody knows it yet -- creating a visceral ache in your chest. You close your eyes and hear words from his Heisman speech in your head … "Just a kid from Ohio, coming down chasing a dream …"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tuesday, 11/7/23 - Cincinnati, Ohio

You flutter your eyes open, disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you were dreaming about Joe's Natty; you turn your head and look at him sleeping peacefully beside you, the bed covers pushed down below his waist revealing a delicious amount of bare skin since he's shirtless. You check the clock on the bedside table -- 3:33 am -- before returning your attention to Joe as you push up onto an arm and look down at him in the dim light filtering in from the bathroom. You both hated to sleep in total darkness, so there was just enough light for you to appreciate the view.

And what an amazing view it is, you think to yourself, your gaze slowly moving from his beautiful face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular chest and sculpted abs, lingering for several seconds where his dirty-blonde treasure trail disappears beneath the sheet. You lean a little closer and take inventory of all the scrapes, scratches and bruises from his most recent game -- a 24-18 victory at home over the Bills on Sunday Night Football day before yesterday.

Joe stirs in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you before letting out the tiniest snore from between his parted lips. How can one man be so damn adorable and hot as fuck at the same time? you muse, a smile gracing your lips as you let your gaze slide back down to his treasure trail.

"Like what you see?" Joe purrs, causing you to jump and let out a squeal.

"Damn it, Joseph! You scared me!" you scold, softening your tone with a smile. "I was just looking at your boo-boos," you deflect, ignoring his dirty grin that tells you he knows exactly what you were looking at. You clear your throat and run your fingers over a couple of bright red scratches on his left forearm. "Do they hurt?"

"Nah, that's football, baby."

You roll your eyes playfully as he continues.

"Besides, you put way more scratches on my back during our post-game victory sex."

"You asked for those," you remind him.

He gives you a wink. "I didn't ask; I ordered."

"Exactly," you agree, biting your lip as you think back to the intense sex y'all had when he got home from the game early Monday morning (yesterday); it was a fairly quick session by your usual standards, with Joe feeling himself for the prime-time win over a major conference rival, and your arousal red-lining due to the fifteen minutes of filthy talk he teased you with on the phone during his drive home from the stadium. The result was pure, concentrated pleasure, frantic and feral, more raw need than finesse.

His voice interrupts your thoughts. "Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?"

"I had a really vivid dream about you, and I guess it woke me up."

"Mmmm, a really vivid dream, huh?" He gives you a naughty smile while dropping a hand beneath the sheet to squeeze your bare thigh. "That sounds promising."

"It wasn't that kind of dream, horndog," you chuckle, shaking your head when he pokes his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"Dang," he mutters, heaving a sigh while keeping his hand firmly wrapped around your leg. "What was the dream about?"

"You winning the Natty. We were back in the Superdome with confetti raining down."

"Sounds like an awesome dream."

"It really was."

"Did you dream about the crazy-hot victory sex we had that night?"

"You mean the next morning?" you tease, since it was well into the wee hours of the next day before you were finally alone with him.

"You know what I mean," he states, licking his lips and inching his hand higher up your thigh, stopping just before reaching your crotch.

"I actually woke up before that part," you admit. "The last thing I remember is a quote from your Heisman speech."

"You dreamed about the Heisman, too?"

"Yeah. The quote was 'Just a kid from Ohio, coming down chasing a dream'." You give him a smile as you continue. "It occured to me in the dream that you sometimes speak things into existence."

His eyebrows inch toward his hairline. "Like what?"

"Like the Hunger Relief Fund that eventually morphed into the Joe Burrow Foundation. You spoke that into existence by mentioning the food insecurity in Athens County in your Heisman speech. That started all the donations rolling in." He studies your earnest expression in the dim light as you continue. "Plus you kind of spoke the Natty into existence. You told anyone who would listen that y'all had the right stuff to go all the way, as long as you worked like hell for it."

"Half of doing something is believing you can," he states, sounding every bit like a coach's son. "But make no mistake, that speech only worked because our Championship team was loaded with talent. If I ended up just about anywhere else, there would be no Natty. Fiery speeches and pep talks only work if you've got the goods to back 'em up."

"And the work ethic?" you ask.

"Yes."

"And the insane team chemistry?"

"Yes."

You smile at each other for several heartbeats before a thought hits you. "It's been a while since I thought about this but … it's crazy to me that we came so close to never meeting. You really wanted to transfer to Nebraska, and …"

"And thank God they didn't want me," he finishes, giving your thigh another squeeze.

You roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, a little surprised that this is still messing with your head after all this time. "Do you ever think about it?" you ask.

"Think about what?" He scoots closer and pushes up onto an arm to look down at you.

"About how close we came to never meeting?"

"No, I don't ever think about it because what was supposed to happen happened. Me transferring to LSU was meant to be, not just for football but also for you. -- For us. -- It was fate."

You take a deep breath and let his words soothe you; it's not the first time he's had to talk you down off of this particular ledge.

"Also," he forges ahead. "Just so you know, I spoke our relationship into existence."

"How so?"

"Mainly pep talks after all of the many times you shot me down before finally agreeing to go out with me; sometimes the pep talks were just in my head, sometimes they were out loud while staring at myself in a mirror like a huge dork."

"What did you say?"

He thinks for a few seconds before answering. "Don't give up. Be respectful but also relentless. Prove to her that you want more than a quick fuck."

"You were def relentless," you chuckle. "I figured you were chasing me so hard because you'd never been told no before, and it hurt your ego."

He's shaking his head no before you finish your sentence. "I chased you so hard because I wanted you more than anything. I thought if I could prove I wasn't a fuck boy, you'd hopefully give me a chance."

"I'm glad you didn't give up."

"Me too." He leans down and presses a quick kiss on your lips before continuing. "Speaking of the Heisman, you scared the shit out of me Heisman week-end when I thought you were gonna break up with me, but it all worked out in the end."

"Heisman week-end will always be extra special for your acceptance speech, and also for the amazing marriage proposal you surprised me with."

"I was persuasive as fuck, wasn't I?" he grins.

"Very persuasive."

His grin levels up from cute to cocky. "I guess you might say I spoke our engagement into existence?"

"You might say that," you agree, rolling your eyes playfully at his cocky demeanor.

"Okay, but on a serious note …" he clears his throat before continuing. "Remember when I said -- 'Death Valley, where opponents dreams come to die, but where mine came true?'"

"Yeah."

"I know I've told you this before, but I want to say it again. When I said that, I wasn't just talking about football. I was also talking about you. You're a dream come true for me."

You close your eyes as you feel that familiar visceral ache in your chest; you always thought the saying "I love you so much it hurts" was just hyperbole until you met Joe.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"I love you so much it hurts," you admit, pressing a hand against your chest. He drops a kiss against your hand before gently moving it aside to drop another kiss between your breasts, his lips warm through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He slowly kisses his way up from your chest to your neck, his breath tickling your ear when he finally speaks.

"I love you more than anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your pulse picking up as he kisses and nuzzles the sensitive spot behind your ear for several heartbeats before capturing your lips, treating you to the kind of slow-burn kiss that always makes your pulse race and your toes curl. You lean into him, your body craving more contact as he deepens the kiss, a thrill shooting through you when you feel his erection against your thigh.

Before you have time to grind against his obvious hard-on, he pulls his hips back and breaks the kiss, giving you a sheepish smile before speaking. "I'm trying really hard not to be a horndog right now."

"Why?" you giggle at the look on his face before scooting closer.

"Because we just had a soft, tender moment, and I don't wanna ruin it with a raging boner."

"Nothing wrong with a soft moment being followed by a hard one," you purr, dropping a hand down to tease him through his boxer briefs.

"Who's the horndog now?" he asks, hissing when you slide a hand inside his undies to grip his hard length.

"Both of us," you whisper, spreading your legs to accommodate his big body as he crawls on top of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sunday, 11/12/23 - Cincinnati, Ohio (after the home loss against the Texans)

Joe finishes brushing his teeth and does a swish-and-spit of mouthwash; he pats his lips dry with a washcloth and throws you a look that you can't quite read as he strides from the bathroom.

He's in a hurry to get in bed. That seems promising, you think to yourself, your pulse picking up as you quickly finish your nightly skincare routine before following him into the bedroom, making a face at the sight of the empty bed. "Guess I was wrong," you mumble, taking a deep breath as you step out into the hallway, the faint sounds of game film drawing you toward his office.

He'd been grumpy as hell ever since he got home from the game -- a 30-27 home loss against the Texans. Since it was an early game -- 1:00 pm kickoff -- his parents headed back to Athens before Joe got back from the stadium.

"Lucky fuckers," you mumble under your breath as you plaster a smile on your face and breeze into his office. "Hey babe," you chirp, leaning down to drop a kiss on his cheek as he watches one of the four sacks he took.

"Hey," he grunts without taking his eyes off the computer screen.

"You almost done?" you ask. "You've watched a lot of film at this point. Maybe it's time to take a break."

"I took a break for dinner," he states, giving a derisive snort as he watches himself throw an interception. "Dumbass," he seethes, quickly turning his head to lock eyes with you. "I was talking about me not you. I'm the dumbass."

"You're not a dumbass," you soothe, running your fingers through his tousled curls. "And I appreciate you taking a break to have dinner with me, but let's go to bed, okay? You can watch more film tomorrow."

"I'm not sleepy," he grumps, closing his eyes as you massage his throwing shoulder.

"Who said anything about sleep?" you tease, giving him a dirty wink when he opens one eye to check your expression.

"I don't want pity sex," he mutters, hissing when you hit just the right spot on his sore shoulder; he threw for 347 yards, so you know that thing is barking.

Not this 'pity sex' shit again, you think to yourself. This is the first time he lost a game since y'all got secretly married, so you decide to use that as leverage. "Did you just accuse your wife of offering you pity sex?"

"Sorry," he mumbles, raking a hand through his hair before turning his attention back to his computer; you step behind him and continue the shoulder massage, your mind running through options to get his mind off the game so he can get a good night's sleep.

Food and sex, you think to yourself. That's pretty much it. A full belly and empty balls. You lean down and press a kiss against the nape of his neck. Full belly is a done deal, just gotta finish him off.

"You can go to bed," he grumbles. "I have more film to watch."

Fuck that, you muse, knowing that the film watching is just self-flagellation at this point. You watch as he rewinds a play a couple times before scribbling a note in a small spiral notebook. A thought forms in your mind, and you smile as you give it some consideration. "Perfect idea," you whisper.

"Huh?" Joe asks, spinning his desk chair around to face you.

"Nothing," you shrug, reaching past him to snatch his precious spiral notebook before retreating a few steps.

He rolls his eyes when you waggle it at him. "Give it back," he orders.

"Come and get it," you purr, backing toward the door as he narrows his eyes at you.

He spins his chair back around, and you think he's going to ignore you, but instead he shuts his computer down and slowly stands up; he gives you a thorough once-over, taking in your bare legs and purple t-shirt -- one of his -- that hits you mid-thigh. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he states, giving you a loaded look while yanking his socks off, leaving him wearing slinky black shorts and a gray t-shirt.

Ohhh, he means business, you muse, a little thrill shooting through you at his obvious intention -- he knows you're going to run, and he's getting ready to chase you. "You know I'm gonna pick the hard way," you tease, putting as much sexual innuendo in your voice as possible. You watch in fascination as his nostrils flare, like a predator catching the scent of his prey; you give him a dirty grin before spinning around and running for the door.

You let out a squeal when you hear him pounding down the hallway right behind you, literally inches away when you finally bust into the bedroom and spin around to face him, holding a hand up as words spill from your lips. "Okay, okay, okay," you pant, your pulse racing way more from excitement than exertion as you continue to back away from him. "Stop right there and I'll give you what you want." You hold the notebook out toward him like a peace offering, giving him an innocent smile as he steps forward and reaches a hand out to take it. You let out a naughty giggle as you snatch the notebook back at the last second and dance away from him.

"You better stop playin'," he warns, the husky tone of his voice setting off a steady throb of arousal deep inside you. "Or what?" you chirp, sticking your tongue out as he takes a step toward you. He doesn't answer; instead he continues to walk toward you, his gaze dropping to your chest where your hard nipples are very visible through the thin fabric of your shirt. "Hold on a sec," you say breathlessly, giving him a smile when he drags his gaze from your breasts to your face. "Let's play a game."

He gives you a skeptical look as he stops about a foot away from you. "What kind of game?"

"Guess which hand it's in, and I'll give it to you." You wave the notebook at him before hiding it behind your back.

"I think I'll just come and take it," he smirks, closing the distance between you in one long stride and reaching a hand behind your back; you transfer the notebook from one hand to the other before lifting it over your head and rising up onto your tiptoes. He gives you a bemused look before easily plucking the notebook out of your upstretched hand. "Should've gone low, shorty," he gloats, his eyebrows rising as you give him a wink while dropping to your knees at his feet.

"Good idea," you purr, holding eye contact while palming his erection through his slinky shorts; you eventually slide your hands up and sink your fingers in the waistband of his shorts, pulling them plus his undies to mid-thigh. You catch his hard cock as it springs free, your tongue immediately lapping at the precum on his tip.

"Fuck," he hisses, his gaze locked on your mouth as you continue to tease him. "I just got played, huh?" he asks, more than a little admiration evident in his tone. "Like a motherfucker," you admit, giving him a cocky smile before tracing your tongue over a prominent vein, base to tip, finishing it off with a slow swirl and thorough suck. "Just consider this my victory formation," you purr, relishing the angle as he towers over you, his feel and taste on your tongue causing a gush of liquid heat in your mouth and core; he makes a sound low in his throat as he drops the notebook on the floor and wraps a hand around the nape of your neck, his grunts of approval spurring you on as you hit a rhythm that has his hips thrusting forward, dirty praise spilling from his pretty lips as you continue to pleasure him.

"Hold on a sec," he rasps after several minutes. "Let's get naked."

You pull off of him and give a quick nod before shoving his shorts and undies all the way down; he steps out of them before stripping his shirt off, dropping it on the floor as he backs up a few steps and sits on the bed, his thick thighs falling open in his usual manspread. "Come here," he orders, giving you a dirty grin when you strip your shirt off and walk toward him, your eyes dropping down to his impressive erection as you lick your lips in anticipation of finishing what you started.

"Hold on," he stops you as you start to kneel between his thighs. "Lose the panties."

You slide your thong off, your eyebrows rising when he reaches a hand out to grab it before quickly bringing the scrap of black lace to his face; he takes a deep breath and then another, his cock twitching at the scent of your arousal. You feel a gush of wetness between your thighs as you sink to your knees, your lips barely making contact with his shaft before he reaches down and picks you up. "What are you doing? I wasn't finished sucking you," you yelp, spreading your legs so you end up straddling his waist with him flat on his back on the bed.

"I'm calling an audible," he states, gripping your ass in both hands and sliding you up his body toward his face. "I need to taste you."

"I need to taste you, too," you whine. "Don't get me wrong, I love the manhandling, but I wanna finish you with my mouth."

He laughs at your pouty expression. "There's a way we can both get what we want."

"How?"

He raises one eyebrow, smiling when a look of realization hits your face.

"Sixty-nine?" you mumble, sticking your tongue out at his 'well, duh' expression. "It's your fault I didn't think of that sooner," you grump, trying and failing to keep a stern look on your face.

"How is it my fault?" he asks, helping you spin around and get into position.

"You got me so dickmatized I can't think straight."

"Ohhh, I love that. I'm gonna get you a t-shirt that says that."

"Shut up," you giggle, gasping when he grips your hips and pulls you toward his face.

"Don't worry," he purrs, licking a long stripe up the length of your wet slit. "I know better than to talk with my mouth full."

The last coherent thought you have is thank goodness y'all are alone in the house, since there's a 100% chance of you getting loud as hell.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You watch the play unfold in slow motion on your TV screen, your heart skipping a beat as two defenders converge on Joe; you gasp in horror as they wrap him up and twist him to the ground, his body language and grimace of pain speaking volumes as he grabs his knee. "Oh no!" you yelp, tears streaming down your face when you realize how much pain he's in. "Noooooo!" ~

"Babe, wake up! You're having a bad dream!"

Joe's voice snaps you out of your nightmare; you take one look at his concerned face and break down crying. "What day is it?" you ask between sobs.

He throws a quick glance at the bedside clock before answering. "It's Tuesday, November 14th, 2023. 1:44 am to be precise."

"Thank goodness," you whisper as you collapse against him. "I thought I was still dreaming for a sec."

"You're awake," he soothes, pulling you tight against him, your hot tears falling on his bare chest as he cradles your head in one big hand, his other hand rubbing your back. "It's okay, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss on top of your head.

"It's not okay," you sniff. "I was dreaming about your knee injury. That awful dream where it happens in slow motion and I can't look away."

"Damn," he mutters, pressing a couple more kisses against you as your tears continue to fall. "That's def a nightmare."

"I felt so helpless since I couldn't be at the game because of Covid," you sputter, grinding your face against his chest as your emotions overwhelm you.

"You got to me as soon as you could," he murmurs. "And you helped me through that hideous rehab. I couldn't have done it without you."

You cry for a few more minutes before your tears finally taper off; you take a deep breath before speaking, your words muffled against him. "Sorry for crying all over you," you sniff.

"It's okay. I'm waterproof," he says, dropping another kiss on your head before hopping up to grab some tissues for you. You blow your nose, cringing at the loud noise before placing the soiled tissues in his outstretched hand; he disappears into the bathroom to toss the tissues before rejoining you in bed.

"Booger check," you urge, tilting your head back for him to inspect your nostrils. "You're good," he assures you, stretching out beside you and pulling you against him. You bury your face in his neck, his warmth and familiar scent soothing your frazzled nerves.

Several minutes pass before he breaks the silence. "You haven't had that dream in a while. I was hoping you'd never have it again."

"Me too," you mumble. "I think I had it again because I'm worried about you."

He tries to pull back and look at you, but you burrow your face deeper into his neck; you feel him take a deep breath, hold it for several seconds, then slowly let it out. He repeats the action before speaking up. "Talk to me."

"It's just …" you scramble to organize your thoughts before continuing. "The short week has me worried. Playing Sunday the 12th then Thursday the 16th seems crazy. That's basically no time for your body to recover."

"I'll be fine," he murmurs. "My calf's been feeling damn near 100%."

You finally pull back and lock eyes with him. "What about your arm?"

"What about it?"

"You've been wearing the compression sleeve pretty regularly lately."

"My arm is fine. The compression sleeve is just precautionary to keep the normal swelling down that most QBs experience at this point in the season."

You study his face for several seconds before speaking. "You'd tell me if something was actually wrong, right?"

"Of course I would."

"This week just feels so rushed, doesn't it? You just played a game two days ago, and you've got a night practice tonight at 6:00 pm, then you're on the team flight tomorrow headed to Baltimore. I also hate that it's a late game. You're gonna be dead tired by that 8:15 pm kickoff."

"Kickoff could be at midnight, and I'd be ready to go." He gives you a cocky grin as he continues. "Don't you think I might have a little extra adrenaline flowing going up against a division rival?"

"Obvi," you concede, returning his grin even though you still have a vague sense of dread. "Sorry for waking you up," you continue, snuggling against him. "Let's try to go back to sleep. You need all the sleep you can get."

"I wasn't actually sleeping when you had the nightmare."

"You weren't?"

"Nope. I'd been awake for about thirty minutes. I tried to go back to sleep, but I was having a hard time turning my brain off."

"Thinking about the upcoming game?"

"Obvi," he admits, scrunching up his adorable nose when you push up into a sitting position and look down at him.

"What will help you sleep?" you ask. "Maybe a snack? How about a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie?"

"I was thinking of a different kind of snack," he purrs, licking his lips and dropping his gaze down to your crotch.

"Marriage has turned you into a shameless horndog," you chuckle, raising your arms as he sits up and strips your t-shirt off.

"That's a good thing, though, right?" he asks, tossing your shirt on the floor.

You nod, giving him a wink as you lie back. "That's a very good thing."

"Good. 'Cause I can't help that I'm perpetually horny," he teases, giving you a dirty grin as he slides your panties down your legs before crawling between your spread thighs. "I mean, have you seen my wife? She's smoking hot."

Your giggles turn into groans as he lowers his head, your vague sense of dread quickly disappearing with every stroke of his talented tongue.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, you gently ease out of bed and look down at Joe sleeping peacefully, the last words he said before he drifted off echoing in your head. Get some sleep, babe. I promise there's nothing to worry about.

You grab your t-shirt and panties and creep out into the hallway, quickly shimmying into the articles of clothing before tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen; you pour a glass of water and grab a cookie, savoring a few bites before rolling your shoulders to ease some tension. "There's plenty to worry about," you mumble under your breath. "Football is violent as fuck, and a bunch of players get hurt every week."

You hadn't said that to Joe earlier because he needed sleep more than you needed to make a point, so you held your tongue. "It is what it is," you mutter, "no reason to argue about it." You finish your cookie as you try to put the negative thoughts out of your mind; you heave a weary sigh as you walk to the living room and plop down on the sofa. "I'm not sleepy," you grumble, trying to decide what to do to take your mind off of things. You don't feel like watching TV or reading or scrolling your phone, so what does that leave?

After a few minutes, an idea hits you, and you open a drawer on the end table and pull out a book bound in black leather. You tuck a plush blanket around your legs before you flip the book open, reading the title out loud. "The Story of Us - Volume One." A smile immediately graces your lips as you peruse the pics of you and Joe, and you laugh quietly at how awkward y'all look in some of the pics from when you first started dating.

You slowly flip several pages before stopping on a page dedicated to Joe's Heisman win. There are pics of him on stage accepting the award, in Times Square with his face and name in flashing lights, and pics of both of you the following night at the gala dinner where everyone in attendance couldn't get enough of him. "Especially the women," you mutter, shaking your head as you close your eyes and let your mind rewind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ December 15, 2019 - Marriott Marquis Times Square NYC

You take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds as Joe follows you into the elevator and presses the button for the 18th floor. He gives you a smile as the door slides closed, cutting you off from the crowd of people still mingling after the Heisman gala dinner. "Alone at last," he murmurs, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips as the elevator whisks you upward.

A few seconds later, the elevator slows to a halt, and Joe throws a look over his shoulder to see what floor you're on. "Six," he mutters, spinning around and using one big hand to tuck you behind him as three very loud and rowdy guys join you in the elevator.

"Oh shit!" one of them yelps. "It's Joe Burrow, right? I mean, I know it's you since your face is all over Times Square right now."

"Yeah, it's me," Joe mutters, exchanging greetings with the very inebriated guys while you stay firmly hidden behind his large frame.

"Dude," one of the drunks slurs. "You're about to be living the life! Heisman winner and soon to be first pick in the NFL is no joke, bro. You're gonna be absolutely drowning in pussy."

"No shit!" another drunk chimes in. "Hot chicks will be throwing themselves at you!"

Before Joe has a chance to respond, the elevator crawls to a stop and the door swishes open, the trio of loud-mouths cackling as they stumble out into the corridor. You stare at your feet as the door slides closed, encapsulating you and Joe in a very tense silence; he turns to face you and you swallow hard, fighting back tears as the elevator continues its ascent.

"Bunch of drunk idiots," he mumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as you continue to stare at your feet. "You okay?" he inquires, turning to look at the floor number as the elevator grinds to a halt. "This is our floor."

The words are barely out of his mouth before you dart around him and exit the elevator, hiking the hem of your dress up and legging it down the long hallway toward your suite; you swipe the key card and sling the door open, immediately rushing through the lounge area into the bedroom then into the en suite bathroom as Joe follows close behind.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, his voice slightly frantic.

"I'm fine. I just need to pee," you lie, shutting the bathroom door in his face before locking it. You toss your tiny, sparkly bag on the counter and stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, a wave of nausea rolling through you as you replay the words said in the elevator. "Drowning in pussy, indeed," you sneer under your breath, yanking the sleeves of your slinky black dress down your arms, relishing the ripping sound as you roughly shove the gossamer fabric over your plump butt. "Fuck it," you grit out, kicking the dress off and stomping on it a few times, literally grinding it under your stiletto heels for several seconds before catching a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.

"Calm down," you whisper, taking several deep breaths while studying your reflection, your gaze raking over the purple lace teddy you wore under your dress because you knew Joe would love it, especially the way your breasts spill out of the demi cups and the snap crotch just waiting to be unsnapped.

"So much for that," you mutter, kicking your heels off and reaching for one of the plush hotel bathrobes hanging beside the door. You shrug the robe on and gather up your dress and heels, slinging the door open and giving Joe a bland smile as you walk into the bedroom. You notice he's changed out of his tux into a pair of gray sweatpants and a black long-sleeve t-shirt. He's sitting on the bed looking nervous as hell.

"You okay?" he asks for the third time, quickly standing up as you walk in the room.

"I'm fine," you mutter, jamming your dress and heels in your suitcase before breezing past Joe to walk into the lounge area; you head straight to the bar and grab a glass, dropping a couple of fat ice cubes in it before adding a mini bottle of vodka. "Fuck it," you mumble under your breath, grabbing a mini bottle of silver tequila and adding it to the glass with the vodka, swirling it around for a few seconds before taking a sip, the potent elixir burning all the way down just like you hoped it would.

"Can I have a taste?" Joe asks, giving you a smile when you turn your head to look at him.

"Sure," you answer, walking to where he's sitting on the leather sofa before offering him the glass; you watch closely as he takes a hearty gulp, his eyes immediately going wide.

"Got damn! What kind of cocktail is this?" he wheezes, making a face as he hands the glass back to you.

"Fuck boy repellant," you state, your full lips curling into a cunty sneer as you drop into an armchair directly across from him, the hotel robe you're wearing -- which is too big for you -- sliding off of one shoulder far enough to reveal a strap of your teddy. His eyes are drawn to the wisp of purple, lingering there for several seconds before you part the robe just below your crotch, letting it fall open to reveal your bare legs. You take a small sip of your drink and watch in annoyed amusement as his gaze drops down to your smooth legs, slowly sliding from your feet -- toenails painted LSU purple -- all the way up to your barely-concealed crotch. Men are so fucking predictable, you think to yourself. Even the decent ones are constantly thinking with their dicks.

He eventually clears his throat and meets your eyes. "Are you mad at me?" he asks, nervously picking at his thumbnail in a way you wish you didn't find endearing.

"I'm mad at the situation."

He nods vigorously. "Because of those rude drunks spouting bullshit in the elevator, right?"

"They may have been drunk, but they were 100% correct," you state, taking another sip of your godawful drink before sitting it on a coaster on the side table. "No bullshit detected."

He opens his mouth to argue, but you beat him to the punch. "I wouldn't try to deny it if I were you. At best you come off as an oblivious doofus, and at worst you come off as a manipulative liar." He snaps his mouth closed as you plow ahead. "Having said that, I don't really want to have this convo tonight. You've had an amazing couple of days, and I don't want to ruin that. Let's save this heavy topic for some other time."

"I prefer to have the conversation now," he urges, swallowing hard when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Please?" he adds. "I won't be able to sleep or think or anything until we clear this up."

"Fine," you state, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Remember when we first met just after you transferred to LSU in the summer of 2018?"

"Yeah."

"And remember how I refused to go out with you for several weeks before you finally convinced me?"

"Yeah."

"This shit right here is the reason I was so reluctant."

He furrows his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean … once I found out you were a football player, I promised myself I'd stay away, even though I was super attracted to you."

"Because you thought I was a fuck boy."

"Exactly. And now -- after being with you for almost 18 months -- my worst fears are about to be realized."

"I don't understand. You know I'm not a fuck boy, so what's the problem?"

You take a deep breath as you struggle to find the words to say, fighting back tears as your mood shifts from mad to sad. "Look … I don't think you're a fuck boy, but you're only human, and you have women throwing themselves at you left and right. I lost count of how many women propositioned you right in front of my face tonight."

"And damn near every man in the place was eye-fucking you, but I know you'd never cheat on me. Don't you trust me?"

"That's a loaded question," you mutter. "I mean … you're a Heisman winner, and unless an asteroid destroys the Earth before January 13, 2020, you're gonna be a National Champion." You wipe a tear before continuing. "Then you're gonna be a number one pick in the NFL draft and an instant multi-millionaire. There's a saying about how a man is only as faithful as his options." You shrug as you continue. "And you're about to be drowning in options."

"I don't want options; I want you! I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you!"

You give him a sad smile. "I want you, too, but I also want to live a normal, quiet life. I had no idea when we started dating that you were gonna have one of the most amazing college football seasons of all time and end up in the NFL."

"Are you breaking up with me?" he grits out, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm … not sure."

"Oh my God," he snaps, leaping off the sofa like he got poked with a cattle prod; he paces back and forth several times, raking a hand through his hair while muttering under his breath. You watch him with equal parts fascination and trepidation, not exactly sure where this is going.

He eventually stops right in front of your chair and stares at you for several seconds before grabbing the lethal drink; he takes two gulps before slamming it back down. "Fucking hell, that's awful," he gasps, his gaze locking onto yours as he drops to his knees at your feet. "Have I done something wrong?" he asks, his earnest expression breaking your heart.

"You haven't done anything wrong. I just … I don't want you to feel like you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you? Are you serious?" He shakes his head as he continues. "These last 18 months have been the best of my life, and football is part of that, but you're also a huge part. You're a dream come true for me."

You chew on your bottom lip as he scoots closer and forges ahead.

"And you're right, this season has been absolutely crazy. You've been the eye of the storm for me. My safe space." He reaches a hand out toward you, waiting for you to grasp it before continuing. "I'm not sure we can have a normal, quiet life for however long I'm in the NFL, but I promise I'll do everything I can to shield you from the bullshit."

"I feel like I'm already waist deep in bullshit," you mutter, "and I think you're being a little naive to think you can shield me from it."

"You're right," he admits, "all I can do is try my best. Whatever you need from me, I'll do it." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Football is gonna be one chapter in our story, but there are so many other things I'm looking forward to experiencing with you."

"Like what?" you ask.

"Like house hunting when I finally know which team is gonna draft me, finally living together so we can go to sleep and wake up in the same bed all the time, vacations, marriage, kids, stuff like that."

"Stuff like that?" you laugh. "You threw marriage and kids in there pretty nonchalantly."

"I kind of got ahead of myself," he grins. "It's probably not the right time for this because I'm totally unprepared but fuck it, I'm calling an audible. Hold on a sec," he continues, hopping up and striding to the coat closet in the entryway; he pulls out his LSU letterman jacket and shrugs it on as he walks back into the lounge, dropping to one knee in front of you and reaching both of his hands out. Your heart skips a beat at the look on his face as you place your hands in his.

He swallows hard and licks his lips before speaking. "Coming to LSU was my destiny, not just for football but also for you. I was gonna wait until I signed my rookie contract to do this so I could give you the engagement ring you deserve, but right here, right now, I need you to know that I want you by my side for this journey. It's our journey, not just my journey. Will you marry me?"

It takes you a few heartbeats to be able to speak, so you nod your head as tears roll down your cheeks. "Yes," you finally manage, burying your face in his neck when he pulls you close. "I love you," he murmurs. "I love you, too," you sniff, relaxing into his embrace for several minutes before he pulls back and stands up.

"Take your robe off," he urges as he shrugs out of his letterman jacket. You stand up and do his bidding, smiling when his eyes go wide at the sight of your purple lace teddy. "Damn," he mumbles, "hope I get to see more of that later. But for now I want to give you my jacket." He holds the jacket for you while you slip into it. "We need something symbolic since I don't have a ring yet."

"Thank you, babe," you whisper, rising up on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips. "It's a little big, huh?" you giggle, spinning in a circle to show off the fit.

"It's perfect," he grins, engulfing you in a hug for several heartbeats before pulling back. "We need a pic," he mutters, grabbing his phone before plopping into the armchair and patting his lap; you dab the tears off of your cheeks as you sit in his lap. "Do I look okay?" you ask. "You look gorgeous," he answers, waiting for you to get settled before snapping the selfie.

Y'all are admiring the pic when his stomach growls loudly. "Those dinner portions were tiny," he grumbles. "You wanna order room service?"

"Sure," you agree. "What sounds good?"

"I'm thinking club sandwiches, fries and a bottle of champagne to celebrate."

"Sounds great."

~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later, y'all are sitting side by side at the bistro-size table, feeding each other fries and guzzling champagne while looking out the window at the bright lights of the city that never sleeps.

"We can't tell anybody we're engaged until after the Natty," you state, accidentally wiping your salty hand on your robe before you realize it's not your napkin (the letter jacket is safely back in the closet). "Not even family," you continue. "The pressure on you is insane right now, and you don't need the distraction."

"True," he agrees. "I was actually thinking we might wait until we get your engagement ring to tell folks. The draft is April 23rd, and I should sign my rookie contract some time in July. We can tell close family and friends before that, but I want the ring on your finger before we make a public announcement. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good to me," you smile, feeling a little lightheaded from the champagne and the sheer giddyness of the moment. "Just so you know, I don't need an expensive ring."

"We'll see." He grins with a mouthful of sandwich before hopping up to root around in his duffle bag; he sits back down and places a small spiral notebook on the table. "We need to make a to-do list," he states, flipping to a blank page and brandishing a pen before continuing. "First off, next Sunday the 22nd, there's an important game between the Bengals and Dolphins. If the Dolphins win, the Bengals secure the first pick in the draft. So if that happens, we need to start looking for houses in Cincinnati, preferably close to the stadium."

"And two days before that," you interject, "you're gonna receive your master's degree. Be sure to put that on the list."

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, doing your bidding; you top off your champagne glasses as y'all continue to add items to the list:

Dec. 20, 2019 - Joe receives master's degree

Dec. 22, 2019 - if Dolphins beat Bengals, start house hunting in Cincinnati

Dec. 28, 2019 - beat Oklahoma in the Peach Bowl

Jan. 13, 2020 - win the Natty

April 23, 2020 - NFL draft

May 15, 2020 - Y/n receives bachelor's degree (you're a year and a half younger than Joe - also keep in mind spring semester was mostly done virtually b/c of Covid)

July ??, 2020 - Joe signs NFL rookie contract

July/August, 2020 - buy engagement ring & make public announcement + buy house

Joe reads the list out loud before giving you a look. "Can you think of anything else?"

"Not right now, but I'm feeling kinda lightheaded from the champagne."

"Let's finish it off," he grins, pouring the remainder of the bubbly in each of your glasses.

"You're such a bad influence," you giggle, taking the champagne flute as he hands it to you.

"Just one more sip, okay? I wanna propose a toast."

"Okay, go ahead," you snicker, busting out laughing at the look on his face.

"What's so funny?" he laughs.

"Nothing really, I'm just giddy as hell. Combination of drunk and high on life."

"Cool," he grins, holding his glass up. "Here's to happily ever after. Is that cheesy?"

"Cheesy as fuck and I love it," you giggle, clinking your glass against his before downing your entire drink.

"Am I gonna have to carry you to bed?" he asks, sliding a hand up your thigh and under your robe until it's nestled against your crotch; he makes an inquisitive face as he runs his fingers over the snap crotch of your teddy. "This feels different," he muses, his forehead wrinkling in consternation as he tries to figure out what he's feeling.

"It's a snap crotch," you state.

"Oh. -- Sooo I can just … unsnap it?" he asks, the look on his face sending a sizzle of heat through you.

"Yeah," you whisper, shrugging the robe off as he stands up and reaches for you, picking you up bridal-style as he heads for the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

Joe's voice pulls you out of your flashback.

"Hey babe," he mumbles around a mouthful of peanut butter chocolate chip cookie. "What ya looking at?"

"Our picture book," you answer, giving him a smile when he sits beside you on the sofa.

"That was an amazing night," he says, looking at the pic of you sitting in his lap wearing his letterman jacket. "I really thought we'd be married super fast, but it didn't happen that way."

"No, it didn't," you whisper, your mind thinking back to all the reasons why -- Covid -- Joe's horrible knee injury -- losing the Super Bowl -- etc. Plus, the stress of planning a big wedding was something that neither one of you wanted to deal with.

"But we're married now," he states, "even if nobody knows it yet." He takes the picture book off of your lap and places it on the coffee table. "You wanna try to get a little more sleep before we have to get up?" he asks, stretching out beside you on the oversized sofa when you say yes; he tucks the blanket around both of you as you snuggle against him, dropping a kiss on the nape of your neck as he pulls you close, your back to his chest.

You close your eyes and try to relax, but your mind has other ideas. Why do I have such an uneasy feeling, you think to yourself. I'm sure everything is gonna be just fine.

"Relax, babe," Joe mutters, dropping another kiss on your neck. "Everything's gonna be just fine."

"You really need to stop reading my mind," you chuckle. "It's getting a little crazy."

"I'm not really reading your mind, we're just always on the same wavelength."

"That sounds like something a shameless mind reader would say."

"Okay, you caught me. I always know exactly what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking right now?"

He considers the question for a few seconds before answering. "You're thinking that you wanna have super naughty shower sex before I leave for practice."

"You are such a horndog," you giggle.

"Obvi, but is that what you were thinking?"

"No, but I'm thinking it now."

"I love it when a plan comes together," he gloats, laughing along with you for a bit before quieting down; you feel the tension leave your body as he pulls you closer and drops another kiss on your neck, your eyelids fluttering closed as you drift off to sleep in his embrace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

shoutout to @sofferaddict for the idea to incorporate more flashbacks while we wait for good news on Joe's wrist.

shoutout to @joeys-babe for requesting a flashback of Joe proposing.

[sattlersquarry]

orange juice (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU) Steve's world changes in the worst way when he loses you. He struggles to move on...but he learns he might not have to when he miraculously gets a second chance with you.

Word Count: ~8k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, death, grief, alcoholism, mentions of sex, mention of alcohol poisoning, and an allusion to a suicide attempt (in a miscommunication!!!! no one actually tried). the reader is presumed dead after the events of season 4. lots of angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending bc if I ever wrote something without a happy ending my identity has been stolen. inspired by "orange juice" by noah kahan with some other references to his music sprinkled throughout.

a/n: i've been bouncing between this and bloom for the past few months and they are two very different fics tonally, but i hope you enjoy. please let me know if i missed any warnings because this one is kind of heavy.

🍊🍊🍊

ORANGE JUICE

MAY 1986

A ringing phone rouses Steve from a restless sleep.

A near-empty bottle of gin rests on the floor by his bed. He doesn’t remember drinking it, nor does he remember anything else from last night.

It’s been two months since you died. Steve’s not taking it well. 

That horrible day, Steve, Nancy, and Robin ran from the Creel House and found Eddie and Dustin sobbing over you, your eyes lifeless and the wounds on your abdomen weeping.

I’m so s-sorry, Steve, Dustin had said through sobs. W-we tried to save her!

An aftershock of the initial gate-opening earthquake caused panic amongst their group. Steve wanted to carry your body back to the real world for a proper burial, but there was no time before the aftershock got much too intense. Dustin and Robin refused to leave the Upside Down without him. He wasn’t going to let them get hurt, so despite the fact it broke his soul in half to do so, he allowed his friends to drag him back to the gate in the Upside Down’s version of the Munson trailer, leaving you behind.

When the dust settled and reality set in that Steve was going to have to move on without you, grief overtook him. He turned to alcohol as a welcome distraction. He’s been consistently ignoring Robin’s desperate pleas for him to talk to a professional, to drink less, to try and really process his pain.

Steve should listen, but he won’t. Instead, he’ll grieve. He’ll wallow. He’d rather wither away into nothing than work on bettering himself, because you died and that’s not fair. To you, to him. To everyone who loves you.

Steve groans, a deep rumbling thing from deep in chest, as he stretches and rubs sleep out of his eyes. He blindly reaches for the phone on his nightstand.

“Hello?” he mumbles.

“Steve, hey.”

Steve sits up like a rocket at the tremble in Robin’s voice.

“Robin? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean, yes! But no. Sorry, I just—can you come to Hopper’s?”

“What is it?” Steve asks. He staggers to his feet, getting tangled in the phone cord. “Is it Vecna? Shit, who did he take?”

“No one!” Robin says, voice way too high to be believable. “Please just come over when you can.”

Steve drives over to their basecamp at Hopper’s cabin, a million bad scenarios racing through his head. What if Vecna cursed Dustin? Or Nancy, or any of the others?

What if somehow he got El, and the Hawkins’ team was really doomed?

It takes Steve almost forty minutes to get to Hopper’s, due to earthquake damage and military roadblocks all over town. He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before he can.

Joyce smiles at him, but her eyes are mournful.

“Hi, Steve,” she says warmly. “Please, come inside.”

This isn’t what Steve expected. Hopper, El, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin are sitting on various chairs and couches in the cabin’s main room. Usually, it’s frantic around here: everyone running around with mixtapes, weapons, and crudely drawn maps of the town with markings where the most frequent monster attacks are. It’s never this still.

When Steve and Joyce walk in, everyone looks at him, sympathy in their eyes.

Steve’s first thought: Shit, is this an intervention?

Before he can ask, Hopper says: “The gates are closed, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth twists into a frown, heart pounding in his chest. That wasn’t the plan.

“Wait, what? How?”

“We’re not sure,” Joyce says. “But Will—”

“I can’t feel Vecna anymore,” Will explains. “And El checked this morning, and she found Vecna in the Void and…”

“He’s gone,” El says quietly. “Dead. Finally.”

Steve sinks onto a couch cushion. That should be good news. Steve should be celebrating, toasting to the death of the bastard that ruined his life and took you away by way of the demobats. But—

“We were supposed to go back,” Steve says. The back of his throat burns when he swallows hard, trying to choke down the sensation of nausea that’s either from his hangover or his panic. Or both. “We were going to go back and get Y/N’s body.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Jonathan says, looking down at his feet.

Steve whirls to Hopper, eyes blazing with a flash of anger that never seems to leave him these days.

“You promised!” he yells. “You promised that we’d go back for her!”

“I know,” Hopper says, keeping his voice even. “But something—or someone—killed Vecna in the Upside Down and the gates closed. The fight is done. It’s over.”

Steve’s lip wobbles. He won’t cry in front of them. He won’t. But his head spins.

“What am I going to tell her parents?” Steve says, voice cracking.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Steve,” Nancy says. She reaches a hand to touch his shoulder and Steve bats it away. “Steve—”

“This is such bullshit,” Steve snaps, turning to Hopper again. “If you had let me go back down there before, I could have brought her body back. We could’ve given her a proper funeral. Given her parents closure! But you made me wait!”

“It was the right choice,” Hopper says firmly. “I didn’t want to invoke another Vecna attack on Hawkins until we were ready to fight.”

“Maybe there’s a gate that we missed and—”

“We checked the gates this morning,” Robin says softly. “They’re all closed.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But it’s over.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He storms out of the cabin, ignoring Robin’s pleas to come back, to not be alone right now. Steve drives back home, not without stopping at the liquor store first and loading up on various spirits to numb the pain.

Over the next week, you go from declared missing to officially declared dead. Steve can’t let on to your parents that he had known for months, and Hopper doesn’t want him to tell them the truth about Vecna, demobats, and the Upside Down. It kills Steve to lie to their faces, to attend the funeral where they bury an empty casket, knowing what he knows. Knowing that your body is trapped in another dimension. Dead and alone.

🍊🍊🍊

NOVEMBER 1986

“Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

Robin’s words echo in Steve’s mind hours after she’s fallen asleep in the uncomfortable armchair next to his hospital bed.

An overindulgence forced Steve to spend his Thanksgiving in a hospital—not that he had any plans with his family to get ruined anyway. Although he had been invited to Thanksgiving with the Buckleys, Wheelers, Hopper-Byerses, Sinclairs, Hendersons, Mayfields, and Munsons, Steve declined every invitation. He resigned himself to a holiday alone without you, got heavy handed with a bottle of whiskey, and passed out in the neighbor’s lawn.

When he awoke, he was in the hospital. Joyce and Robin were there, the former fretting over him and the latter chewing him out for being such a dingus and scaring her so badly on a holiday.

Like a broken record in his head of the worst song Steve’s ever heard: Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this.

Robin didn’t say it to be mean. She said it to get him to wake up. To cool it with the drinking, because if he kept going at the rate he was going, he’d meet a worse fate than a pumped stomach.

Joyce quietly reenters the room and smiles.

“Oh, you’re still up!” she says. “I thought for sure you’d try to get some sleep.”

Steve shrugs.

“I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up.”

Joyce settles on the chair next to Robin’s, ignoring the sleeping girl’s loud snores.

“When I can’t stop replaying the past in my mind,” Joyce says, “I try to think about my future instead. What are my aspirations and goals? What can I do differently to achieve them?”

Steve chews his bottom lip.

“Is it bad if I have no goals?” he says, feeling quite sorry for himself.

“Why do you think that is?” Joyce asks gently.

Steve shrugs again, before rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent the past 3 years on edge thinking I’m going to get killed at any minute?”

Steve barks out a hollow laugh. “Or maybe it’s because 2 years ago I met someone who turned my life completely around, and she did get killed, and I wasn’t there to save her or be with her when she died. And I couldn’t give her or her parents a proper end and every time I close my eyes, I see her laying there. And I don’t know what my future looks like without her. I don’t even think I want one.”

Steve hates crying in front of other people. But when Joyce wraps an arm around his shoulders, he breaks down.

“It’s going to be all right, Steve,” she says. She squeezes him a little tighter. “I know it’s hard moving on from loss, but you do have a future. You have so many people that love you and are going to help you figure it out. And Y/N would want you to keep going. She’d want you to go off and do wonderful things.”

Joyce was right. If roles were reversed, Steve would want you to keep going without him. Not waste away and drink yourself into a coma.

Steve’s life is changing. And despite everything, things might be looking up.

🍊🍊🍊

FEBRUARY 1987

There is a beautiful girl in Steve’s bed and she’s touching him all the ways he likes to be touched—but he can’t even enjoy it because she’s not you.

He tries to clear his mind of all distraction. The girl with him—Molly—is very, very hot. And the feeling of her hands all over him should be sufficient to keep him focused on the moment. But his mind keeps wandering to you.

You were the last person he was truly intimate with. Sure, he’s kissed girls at parties. But that’s different than what’s happening now. Different than being in bed with Molly and her wandering hands, her gentle touches, her salacious whispers.

Steve thinks maybe he’s finally done it. Found a girl that can help him move on from you, the girl to help him feel whole again. To not feel so alone.

But then, overcome with sensation, Steve makes the worst possible faux pas in bed: he moans the wrong name.

Molly ceases kissing him.

“What did you just call me?” she asks, sitting up suddenly with narrowed eyes.

Steve sits up as well, resting against his headboard and floundering for a response that won’t make him sound like a douchebag.

“I just, uh, well—”

“Who is she?” Molly asks. She widens her eyes in horror. “Oh my god, are you seeing someone else? Am I ‘the other woman’?!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Steve rushes to assure her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Caught up in the moment thinking of someone else when I was about to blow you!” Molly snaps. She stomps off the bed and grumbles as she pulls her jeans and sweatshirt back on.

“Wait, hold on!” Steve says. He struggles to put a pair of sweatpants on, hopping around frantically one-footed to pull them up as Molly grabs her purse and yanks open Steve’s bedroom door. “Please don’t leave, Y/N—ah, Molly!”

“Unbelievable!” Molly scoffs as she stomps down the staircase of the townhome Steve shares with three other students at the University of Indiana.

Molly gets to the front door but stops, whipping around to face Steve as he catches up to her.

“Who is she?” she demands. “An ex-girlfriend?”

“In a sense, yeah, but—”

“If you’re still so hung up on her, maybe you should ask her to blow you instead!”

Steve thinks about being an asshole. About letting the anger that simmers in his bloodstream 24/7 rear its ugly head. About snapping at Molly, telling her that yeah, totally, he’d love to get a blowjob from a corpse stuck in an alternate dimension.

But then Molly would feel bad and give him the pitying look Steve hates. So instead, he says, “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you in class.”

Molly huffs before giving Steve’s cheek a sharp smack! He doesn’t wince. Upset at his lack of reaction, Molly storms out.

Just as well. Remembering how the love of his life is dead is a real mood killer.

Steve rubs his forehead and heads to the kitchen. He eyes the six pack in the fridge. He hasn’t touched alcohol in three months. The temptation causes his hand to graze a beer can, but he quickly pivots to a cartoon of orange juice.

He chugs the drink before stalking up the steps to his room. Steve drops to his knees and blindly reaches in the dusty space under his bed. He grips the corner of a box and drags it to the middle of the floor.

Once opened, two black button eyes stare back up at Steve. It’s Lambchop, a stuffed animal lamb that your parents gave him. After your parents held a small funeral and buried that empty casket, they gave Steve this box of your things.

Lambchop here was her favorite toy, your mother had said at the time, eyes glistening with tears. She always hoped to pass it on to her own children one day. I think she’d want you to have it.

Steve thanked your mother and father, gave his condolences, went home, drank enough whiskey to fell a horse, and passed out.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Steve climbs onto the bed and places the lamb on the pillow next to him. It’s one of few connections to you that he has left, so he’ll cherish it, even if it’s a little silly.

What Steve doesn’t realize is that in another dimension, the very person he’s yearning for lays in the version of her bedroom created by the Upside Down, holds a dirty version of Lambchop, and yearns for Steve right back.

🍊🍊🍊

MAY 1987

You and Steve used to have your futures mapped out: start at U of I together in fall of ’86. Move in together after your freshman year of college. Get engaged by fall of ’89, married in fall of ’90, and have two kids by ’95. Spend the rest of your lives together, happy and healthy, with the horrors of Hawkins far behind you.

That was before Steve’s world changed in the worst way. Before you died in the Upside Down, when you drew the bats away from the gate. You were a hero, trying to keep them from flying into your version of Hawkins and destroying it.

Steve struggled for a long time. He’s still struggling, but in a slightly better place.

He’s sober six months now. He thinks of you often, but he tries to focus less on how he desperately misses you and more on how you wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life miserable and drunk.

But he does miss you so, so desperately. And he would give anything to have you back.

It hurts being reminded of you, so Steve stays away from Hawkins. But he can’t say no when Mrs. Henderson invites him to Dustin’s sweet sixteen birthday party, so he makes the trek back.

“Steve!” Mrs. Henderson coos, opening the front door with a beaming smile. “Welcome!”

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve says. She pulls him into a hug and he adds, “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s so lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Henderson says. She leads Steve through the house. “Please, come in! You can put Dusty-Bun’s gift on the dining room table. I have strawberry wine in the kitchen—ah, and orange juice, or lemonade. It’s yours if you want it!”

Mrs. Henderson pivoted to juice awfully fast. She must have found out about Steve’s Thanksgiving Break bender. Steve tamps down the feeling of shame worming its way through his mind and body, instead offering her another small smile before turning to the dining room to drop off Dustin’s gift.

Dustin and the rest of the Hellfire Club are in the den, playing a one-shot campaign that Eddie planned. When Dustin sees Steve, his face lights up.

“Steve! You made it!” he says, rushing over and giving him a bear hug.

“Hey buddy,” Steve says, hugging him back. “Happy birthday, Henderson.”

Dustin grins, and it lifts Steve’s mood immensely.

Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, and Erica greet him next, along with Eddie and his Corroded Coffin buddies. Eddie can barely look Steve in the eye, guilt from not being able to save you eating away at him. Steve’s told him multiple times not to feel bad about it—he knows Eddie and Dustin tried their best.

“Want to join the campaign?” Dustin asks Steve.

“Oh, I don’t know how to play,” Steve says. “I’ll just watch, okay bud?”

A short while later, Robin arrives. Once the campaign ends, Mrs. Henderson brings out the cake, and then gifts are opened.

“He looks really happy, huh?” Robin whispers to Steve, nudging him gently with her elbow.

Steve nods with a smile. Dustin took your death really hard—the two of you had been close ever since you helped him, Steve, Lucas, and Max fight the demodogs in the junkyard. Seeing Dustin smiling and laughing with his closest friends on his birthday makes Steve really, really happy.

Still, Steve’s heart aches. You should be here. You should be smiling as Dustin opens his gifts. You should be getting cake frosting on your nose, playing along with the campaign although you have no clue what’s going on.

Ice grips Steve’s chest. He gets a flashback of you lying on the cold ground, unmoving, and—

“You okay?” Robin whispers, brow furrowed. How the hell can she tell that he’s upset? It’s frightening how observant she is.

“Fine,” Steve says, throat tightening. He’s not. But he isn’t going to let his grief ruin Dustin’s big day.

At the end of the night, Dustin asks Steve when he’ll be back to visit again.

“My summer classes end in August,” Steve says. “I’ll come by then. Maybe we can hit the pool?”

Dustin seems disappointed that it’ll be a while before he sees Steve again, but he doesn’t push.

However, Steve ends up coming back to Hawkins much sooner. Three weeks after Dustin’s birthday party, Eleven calls Steve and tells him something that makes his heart stop:

“Steve, it’s about Y/N.” 

🍊🍊🍊

Steve is a frantic mess.

He sits in the Byers-Hopper basement, knee bouncing as he intently watches El try to find you in the Void again.

El had told him that she’d sometimes look for you in the Void, hoping to give him some semblance of closure. However, she claims that a few hours ago, she finally found you for the first time and saw you not as a corpse, but fully alive. It’s a hope that Steve didn’t dare hold onto before, not until now.

As soon as she called, Steve got in his car and drove to Hawkins, going ten over the speed limit the whole time. He picked up Robin and Nancy along the way to El, Will, and Jonathan’s, and (unfortunately) Mike tagged along.

“Do you see her?” Steve asks, voice cracking.

“No talking, please,” El says, tightening her blindfold.

Steve purses his lips. Will gives him an apologetic smile and Robin squeezes his arm to offer a semblance of comfort. Jonathan looks between Steve and El, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I see her,” El whispers after a few minutes.

Nancy gasps. Mike’s eyes widen. Steve staggers to his feet.

“She’s okay?” Steve asks. “Where is she?!”

“I can’t tell,” El says. “But she’s holding a small, white fuzzy animal. Wait, is it dead?”

“Lambchop,” Steve says.

“Come again?” Nancy asks.

“Lambchop is her favorite stuffed animal,” Steve explains. His heart pounds in his chest at the realization that holy shit, you really are alive. “She must be in the Upside Down version of her house.”

“Y/N!” El calls. “Y/N!”

After a few more minutes of calling to you, El pulls off the blindfold and wipes her nosebleed away.

“She can’t hear me,” El says with a sigh.

“Maybe because the gates are closed,” Nancy offers.

“But if you open another gate,” Steve says, “we can get back through and find her. Right?”

“Hold on a minute,” Jonathan says, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “Is that such a good idea?”

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Is it such a good idea to save my girlfriend’s life? Yeah, I think so, Byers.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

“Relax?” Steve says, voice rising in volume with every word. “Relax?! You want me to relax? What about this fucked-up situation is relaxing! My girlfriend has been stuck in literal hell for over a fucking year! We’re going to rescue her, no matter what!”

“But opening a new gate could have major repercussions!” Mike protests.

“Screw the repercussions,” Steve snaps, glowering. “We can’t just leave Y/N down there to rot!”

“None of us want to do that, Steve,” Nancy says, keeping her voice level and calm. “But what if this is a trick from Vecna?”

“It’s not,” Will says. “If it was, I would feel his presence. I don’t anymore.”

“Boom!” Robin says, snapping her fingers. “If our human monster detector doesn’t sense any bad vibes, then we should be good to proceed.”

“Maybe we should ask El what she wants to do before we make any plans to open new gates,” Jonathan points out.

“Exactly,” Mike says. “El, what do you want to do?”

El looks down at her lap, before looking up. She locks eyes with Steve.

“I’ll do it. I’ll open the gate.”

Relief floods Steve’s whole being. He feels lighter. More hopeful than he has in a long time. But it all comes crashing down when—

“That’s not happening.”

The group turns to see Hopper and Joyce on the basement steps. Joyce looks worried, face twisted into a frown. Hopper looks angry, with his brow furrowed.

“But Dad—” El says.

“No buts,” Hopper says. “You are forbidden to open a new gate. You hear me?”

Joyce places a hand on her husband’s shoulder and says, “Now, Hop…”

Steve interrupts, walking over to the older man with a wild, panicked look in his eyes. “Hopper, please. Y/N is still alive in the Upside Down. We just need one gate so I can go through and bring her back. Please.” Hopper fixes Steve with a sorrowful stare, the smallest bit of guilt etched on his features. Still, he remains steadfast.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hopper says. “I’m not putting my daughter at risk. She won’t do it.”

El, Robin, and Will all try to convince Hopper otherwise, their arguments overlapping into a cacophony. Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan share uneasy looks.

Steve can’t listen to this anymore. He quietly excuses himself, darting past Hopper up the steps and stepping into the backyard.

He sinks on the porch stoop and stares off into the quiet, cool night. He understands Hopper’s reasoning, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s spent over a year mourning you, only to discover he might be able to get you back—for that hope to be dashed as quickly as it blossomed.

Steve picks a point in the tree line and focuses on it, putting all his energy into watching it so he doesn’t break down or cause any more of a scene than he already has.

He hears the squeak of the back door and Robin’s tentative, “Hey, how you doing?”

Steve shrugs absentmindedly, continuing to stare. Robin lowers herself onto the stoop next to him.

For a few blissful minutes, she doesn’t speak. She just rests her head on his shoulder and lets him stew in silence.

The spell is broken when she blurts out, “You’re not going to break your sobriety, are you?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin,” Steve grumbles, nudging her slightly so she’ll sit up. “You don’t have to ask that every time I’m in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” she says. She picks at her fingernails. “Sorry. I just worry about you, you know?”

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I worry about you too.”

“Me?” Robin says. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Steve eyes the way her hands fidget. Before he can say anything, she blurts out, “I just don’t want a repeat of Thanksgiving. I mean, you almost died of alcohol poisoning. They pumped your stomach!”

“I know. I was there.”

“No!” Robin snaps, sounding awfully harsh despite the tears welling in her eyes. It breaks Steve’s heart to see. “You were unconscious! And it was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, including all the torture and monsters, because I thought I was going to lose another best friend. I already lost Y/N. I can’t lose you too.”

She sniffles and Steve pulls her in for a hug. He can’t stop a few stray tears from falling down his own face as well.

“You won’t lose me,” Steve says, voice thick. “I promise, Robin. I’m not going to do that again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles, hugging him tighter. “I love you, dingus.”

“I love you, Rob.”

“That’s not fair,” Robin says, pulling away and wiping her tears on her sleeve. “You have to call me a mean nickname back or I just look like an asshole.”

Steve barks out a laugh and shakes his head.

“You are an asshole.”

“Perfect,” Robin says with a small smile. “Now we’re equally jerks. Just the way I like it.”

The back door opens and Will steps out.

“Hopper changed his mind!” he says with a grin.

Hope pumps like blood through Steve’s cold, shrunken heart. He’s going to see you again. Fuck, he’s going to see you again.

🍊🍊🍊

The next day, the group stands in the basement once more, this time making their plan for a rescue mission. Mike squealed to Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, and Max about what’s going on, and they all showed up wanting to help too.

“Not happening!” Hopper barks, a fierce look on his face. “New rule: you have to be 18 to come along.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, thrilled that he gets to come and try to make things right after losing you the first time. The younger teens grumble.

“But El is going!” Dustin complains.

“El is going to stay in the Lab with Joyce,” Hopper says. “She’ll open the gate for us and wait.”

“I can keep the gate open for one hour,” El says.

“That’s plenty of time to find Y/N!” Robin says brightly. “We already know she’s probably at her house.”

“And she lives close to Hawkins Lab,” Jonathan says, pointing to a map of Hawkins. “So we’ll be in and out.”

“It’ll be easy!” Eddie says.

“Don’t jinx it,” Hopper warns.

Nancy turns to Steve and pats his shoulder.

“You feeling good about this?” she asks quietly.

He nods. Although, truthfully, he’s terrified. If they come all this way, only for him to lose you again…he’s not sure he’d be able to handle that.

🍊🍊🍊

The Upside Down is not what Steve remembers.

The alternate dimension used to be dank and cold, like an endless winter’s night. Now with Vecna gone, it’s brighter, with a yellow sky and actual green foliage, not the moldy, dry shit from before. It seems less dangerous than last time.

No matter how much it’s changed, the thought that you’ve been here alone for over a year makes Steve’s blood run ice cold.

“This way!” Hopper barks, tracing his finger on his map of Hawkins and leading the group toward your house.

Jonathan and Nancy walk side-by-side with Hopper, glancing around at the tree lines constantly for any sign of danger. Eddie and Robin hang back, Steve walking slightly in front of them. He hears them whispering about something, but when he turns his head to try and listen, they quiet down.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what they’re worrying about: if they can’t find you, will Steve have another breakdown? Go on another bender? Would Steve even survive it?

Steve’s been wondering the same things himself. But for now, he stays positive, his optimism increasing tenfold when the six of them turn onto your street.

He can’t help but pick up speed, jogging past Hopper and causing the older man to snap, “Hey, stay behind me!”

Steve ignores his protests, shouting your name and pushing through the front door of your house.

He’s been here many, many times. He’s walked the pathway from your front door to your bedroom over and over again. Steve walks that path for the first time in over a year, charging up the steps and tuning out the concerned warnings from his friends.

He bursts into your bedroom, calling your name. He doesn’t see you, but maybe you hid when you heard the front door open. So he checks the closet, the ensuite bathroom, under the bed, to no avail.

Steve’s eyes sweep the space for any clues of your whereabouts. Most of the room seems untouched, except for your bed, where the sheets are rumpled and a grimy Lambchop the Stuffed Lamb sits primly on your pillow with her soft hooves crossed over her lap.

Steve picks up the toy, heart stuttering at the sight. You were sleeping here last night. You must have been. But where are you now?

“Steve!” Robin calls from down the hall, bringing him back to the present. “We found something!”

Steve gently places Lambchop back on the pillow—arranging her the way you always do, because anything else seems disrespectful—and heads back downstairs.

Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin are crowded around the kitchen table. On it is a sheet of paper with a rudimentary sketch of the town.

“Check it out,” Jonathan says. He traces his finger across the drawn lines. “It’s a record of where the gates originally opened.”

Sure enough, there are big stars drawn over Hawkins Lab, Eddie’s trailer, the road by the trailer park, Lover’s Lake, and the Creel House.

“That’s why she’s not here,” Nancy says. “She’s out searching for an opening.”

“We don’t have long,” Hopper barks, glancing at his watch with a grimace. “El can only keep the gate open for an hour. We have forty-one minutes to get back to the Lab.”

“We could split off into teams,” Nancy says. “Jonathan and I can go to Lover’s Lake.”

“Steve and I will hit the trailer park and the highway,” Robin adds. “Eddie and Hop, you can go to the Creel House.”

“We find Y/N,” Hopper says, “and we head back to the Lab. No wasting time. We move fast, we stay vigilant. Got it?”

The younger adults all nod and agree to stay on their walkies in case anyone needs to get in touch. Then, they split off to their destinations.

As Steve and Robin sprint toward the trailer park, Steve can’t stop panic from enveloping him head to toe. What if they’re too late? What if you’re dead—again? What if you don’t remember him somehow. What if—

“Look!” Robin says, throwing out an arm to stop Steve in his tracks. He skids to a stop and sees where she’s pointing.

Behind the closed curtains of the Munson trailer is the beam of a flashlight moving around. Steve’s heartbeat quickens.

“Okay,” she whispers as the duo slinks toward the trailer. “We need to think about this carefully, and make a plan to—wait, Steve!”

He charges into the trailer.

A figure flinches and whips around, hunting knife raised. Steve almost falls to his knees in shock at the sight. It’s really happening.

“Steve?” you whisper, voice cracking. He stands in front of you, hands raised and eyes flicking between your face and your knife. The corners of his eyes burn, tears starting to form.

He says your name, and the look on your face cracks his heart into seventeen pieces. He starts to step toward you, but—

“You’re not real,” you say quietly. “You can’t be.”

“No, I’m real!” Steve says. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Steve. We’re here to take you home.”

You step back, still pointing your weapon at him.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shout.

“Okay, okay!” Steve says. He steps back, slowly.

“Steve!” Robin shouts from outside. “What’s going on in—”

“Stay outside, Robin!” Steve yells, voice wavering as he eyes your knife.

“But—”

Steve swiftly locks the trailer door without turning away from you.

The two of you ignore Robin’s knocks and protests. Eventually, she gives up, and Steve hears the crackle of her walkie-talkie.

“You can’t be Steve,” you say, shaking your head frantically.

“I am,” Steve begs. “And I’ve missed you so much—”

“You can’t be Steve because there’s no way into the Upside Down!” you say. He notices your arm start to shake. “Trust me, I’ve checked and checked and checked and there’s no gates anymore. And since my Steve isn’t a corpse at the Creel House, I know Vecna didn’t kill him and he’s back in the real world. If you’re not Steve, who the hell are you?”

Steve swallows hard. The back of his throat tastes acidic and he feels desperation wrench its way through every cell in his body. When he imagined his reunion with you, he didn’t anticipate this conversation.

“El reopened a gate for us,” Steve explains patiently. “We thought you were dead. But El looked for you and saw you were still alive, so we came to rescue you.” He glances at his watch and his brows furrow. “But we don’t have a lot of time. We need to head back to the Lab because she can’t keep it open forever.”

“How can I trust you?” you say. “How do I know you aren’t a trick?!”

“I’m really me, I promise,” Steve says. He hesitates before stepping closer to you once more. This time, you don’t move away. “We’re safe now, because Vecna’s dead.”

“I know. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction.

“You what?”

“I had to,” you say. You shrug and look a little delirious. How much sleep have you gotten in the last year, Steve wonders. “Vecna brought me back. He would've flayed me and sent me to spy on and kill all of you if I didn’t kill him first.”

Steve almost falls over. The haunting fact that you had to fight Vecna alone makes his stomach turn.

The pained look on Steve’s face seems to shake something deep down in you. Any resolve you had crumbles. You heave out a sob, dropping the knife to the ground. Your knees buckle.

In seconds, Steve wraps you in his arms as you sink to the ground.

You cry, limp in his hold. Steve cries too, choking on encouraging words and apologies and everything he’s wanted to say to you since March 1986, when he thought he’d never speak to you again.

The door rattles. You startle and Steve holds you a little tighter.

“HARRINGTON!” Hopper barks. “Get a move on!”

“We have to go,” Steve says, urgent yet gentle. “We can talk more when we’re home. Okay?”

You nod, standing on unsteady legs.

Steve squeezes your hand before leading you out the door.

The whole rescue squad is out there, and you look wholly overwhelmed at seeing everyone after so long alone.

“No time for pleasantries,” Hopper says. “We’ve got less than twenty minutes to get through that gate.”

“Or it’s a slumber party at Y/N’s,” Eddie jokes. He playfully knocks his shoulder against yours and you gasp at the sudden contact. “Oh, sorry—”

“RUN!” Hopper yells, clapping his hands.

Everyone bolts toward the Lab. Steve and you run side-by-side, hands intertwined.

Shock envelops Steve’s senses, but he keeps running. The one thing racing through his mind is to get you back to safety.

The Lab’s gate is not the gaping maw it once was. It’s about the height of a minivan door, but its width is quite smaller—and slowly but surely shrinking.

El and Joyce stand on the gate’s other side, looking relieved to see everyone.

“Hurry!” Joyce says, waving you forward first. You hesitate, but Steve says, “We’re right behind you. Go on.”

You crawl through the gate and stumble to your feet on the right side of the universe. Steve would normally let everyone else go in front of him, but he wastes no time following behind you. Next comes Robin, then Jonathan and Nancy. Eddie and Hopper bring up the rear.

As soon as Hopper’s crawled through the gate, El drops her hand and it sews itself up—for the final time.

Steve and the others swarm you, all speaking too fast and asking a million questions. Joyce opens a first-aid kid and tries to sit you down and asses your various cuts and bruises. They hurt Steve to see.

“Look at her! She needs more than bandaids and alcohol wipes,” Eddie says, nodding in your direction.

“He’s right,” Jonathan says. “Mom, we need to take her to the hospital—”

“No!” you say. You stumble toward the staircase. “I need to go home. I need to see my parents, let them know I’m alive. How long have I been down there? I’ve been keeping track, and it has to be at least ten weeks, right?”

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. You look at him, eyes wild. “Y/N,” he says softly, “it’s been 15 months.”

That seems to be your final straw. Steve catches you as you pass out.

🍊🍊🍊

SIX HOURS LATER

While you get checked over by Dr. Owens and his people, Steve paces the hospital waiting room. Robin chews her thumbnail and watches the doors to the ER. Nancy and Jonathan bend their heads together and whisper, and Eddie attempts to distract Dustin and the other teenagers by juggling snacks from the vending machine.

After you fainted, Steve didn’t want to leave your side, but Hopper said everyone except himself and Joyce had to go home.

If our entire merry band shows up at Hawkins Mercy Hospital with a presumed-dead girl, it’ll look too damn suspicious, Hopper had said. Go home. Clean up. Wait three hours, and then you can come check on her. We’ll keep you updated.

In exactly 180 minutes, Steve and the others charge into the ER asking the nurse on duty about you.

“She’s still being looked over,” the nurse tells them. “Her parents and the Chief are with her now. You can wait over there and we’ll call you when she’s able to have visitors.”

Another 180 minutes go by. Now, everyone’s getting antsy. Steve has half a mind to charge into the ER and find you himself.

“Simmer down, Steve,” Robin says, noticing the way he’s squeezing the lilac teddy bear he bought you at the gift shop. “You’re choking the life out of that thing.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything from Hopper?” Steve asks. He checks his pager for the fiftieth time. “He said he’d keep us updated.”

“She’s probably going through a psych eval or something,” Max says.

“Or an interrogation,” Mike says darkly. “Maybe they think she had something to do with the murders last year.”

“Shut up, Mike!” Nancy hisses.

Steve curses and pinches his nose. Last year, a cruel man named Colonel Sullivan swept into Hawkins, searching for the real culprit behind Vecna’s kills after Eddie was proven innocent (thanks to a bogus alibi cooked up by Owens’ team). Steve was one of the unlucky few questioned, due to his connection as Jason’s former basketball captain. The thought of you, disoriented from so long in that shithole, handcuffed to a hospital bed while Sullivan grills you makes him see red.

Another sinking realization hits Steve: he’s changed since last year. What if you don’t like him anymore, once you realize how much of a mess he became when he lost you?

Hopper emerges through a set of double doors. Steve’s charging over to him in seconds, the rest of his friends piling behind and all talking at once.

Hopper holds up his hands to silence the group.

“Owens wants to run some more tests,” Hopper says. “They’re checking for contaminants in her bloodstream. You all can see her soon.”

He points at Steve. “Except she’s asking for you right now. You ready?”

Steve nods and squeezes your new teddy bear again. He gives Robin a panicked look, and she gives him a quick hug.

“Go get her,” Robin says with an encouraging smile.

Steve smiles back before following Hopper down the hall. Joyce stands outside your hospital room and smiles when she sees Hopper and Steve approach. Steve freezes.

Through the plane of glass in the door, he sees you with your parents. All three of you are crying.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Steve says, backing away from the door. Before he can fully chicken out, Hopper bursts in and says, “Hey, look who came by.”

You and your parents look up. At the sight of him, your mother and father beam.

“Hello, Steve!” your mother says, sweeping him into a hug. “Can you believe she’s back?!”

“It’s a goddamn miracle,” your dad says, wiping tears on his sleeve. “We’ve been praying for this for so long.”

“Let’s leave these two alone to catch up,” Joyce says. “Grace, Roger, why don’t we pick up some food for Y/N?”

Your parents agree and step out with Joyce and Hopper. When it’s just you and Steve, all either of you can do is stare at each other with awkward smiles.

You clear your throat and point to the teddy bear.

“Is that little guy for me?”

“Yes!” Steve says. “Uh, sorry.”

He hands it to you. When your fingers brush, it feels electric. Still, after so long apart—no matter how much he’s dreamed of what it would be like if he somehow saw you again—everything feels stiff. You’re the love of his life and he can’t think of one thing to say.

“How have you been?” you ask quietly, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Steve.

Steve can’t help but laugh and says, “Terrible. I mean, shit. I know what you went through is way worse—”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you say sharply. Steve recoils and you wince. “I’m sorry, Steve. I just—I’ve been through this like five times with Owens’ guys, and over a cover story two more times with the cops. I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about you. What’s been going on?”

Steve wants to know more about what happened. About how you killed Vecna. About how you survived. But he doesn’t. He would never push you to discuss anything you didn’t want to, but he hopes that one day you’ll feel ready to open up to him.

Right now, you want to hear about his life. Where to begin. Steve thinks of sugar-coating the truth but doesn’t when he admits: “For starters, I almost died last year.”

You gasp and sit up a little straighter.

“What? Oh my god, what happened?”

“I’m fine now,” Steve says, waving away your concerns.

“Was it Vecna?”

“No, nothing like that. I really missed you, and I was in a bad place.”

You swallow hard, eyes turning glassy.

“Oh, Steve. Please don’t tell me you tried to—”

“No!” he says quickly. “It was alcohol poisoning. I drank too much being too lonely on Thanksgiving. Had to get my stomach pumped. It wasn’t all bad, though. Robin and I watched ‘A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving’ on the hospital room TV and Joyce snuck in some pie for me.”

You ignore his attempts and lightening the mood and wave him even closer to you. He cautiously approaches and intertwines your fingers when you reach for his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I feel like it’s my fault—”

“Stop it.”

“Steve…”

“No!” Steve says. He shakes his head vehemently. “Don’t think like that. I just…struggled without you. But it’s not your fault that I’m a basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case,” you say. You squeeze his hand. “You’re the hero that crossed dimensions to come rescue me.”

You kiss his palm before scooching over on the hospital bed. You pat the spot next to you.

“What if your parents come back?” Steve asks.

“I’m not trying to hook up right now,” you say with an eye roll. “I just want you to lay with me.”

Steve is happy to oblige. He settles next to you. You rest your head on his shoulder and hug the teddy bear he brought you.

“So, you didn’t move on?” you ask quietly after a few minutes of peaceful silence. “Find a new girlfriend?”

“What?!” Steve asks, looking down at you, jaw dropped. “You really think I found someone else?”

You nod, fidgeting with the bow around your bear’s neck.

“15 months is a long time,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stand in the way if you're with someone else.”

“I couldn’t,” Steve says. He rests a hand on your knee cautiously. When you don’t flinch or move away, he keeps it there. “Y/N, I don’t want anyone else. I only want you, if you’ll still have me.”

You look up at him, noses practically brushing. The close proximity makes Steve’s cheeks flush rosy pink.

“You mean that?” you ask.

Steve nods. It seems to placate you, because in seconds, you’re lifting your chin to kiss him.

It’s a soft, gentle thing. An innocent brush of lips, like the kisses you shared very early in your relationship. Not the passionate “welcome home” kiss that Steve wants to give you, but he understands if you need to take things slow. He’ll move as slow as you need.

For the first time in months, Steve feels hopeful about his future again. Steve’s world is changing once more, in all the right ways.

🍊🍊🍊

EPILOGUE

You and Steve have your futures mapped out: after six months of physical and emotional healing, move in with Steve and join him at U of I in spring of ’88. Get engaged and subsequently married sometime within five years. No kids—at least, not biological ones, because your time in the Upside Down has caused lasting physiological effects that you don’t want to pass on to children. Maybe you’ll adopt a kid, or some dogs.

It's less of a map and more of an amorphous outline of what you two want to happen. All you two know for sure is that you never want to be apart that long ever again.

Steve’s heart and soul have changed, but they belong to you, and yours to him. Always.

🍊🍊🍊

a/n please lmk what you thought 🧡

tag list; @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @tvandfanfic @a-dealwith-god @stevebabey @keerysquinn @spoookysix @inkluvs

[melbatron5000]

Reality is . . . off

Here's me, screaming into the void. I've got no theory, only Clues.

Reality seems to be acting strangely in Season 2 of Good Omens. Mostly around Aziraphale. My examples:

This season seems to be from Aziraphale's point of view, and all the colors and lighting seem to be very bright and vibrant.

The note from Maggie -- another post on Tumblr (damned if I can find it now) pointed out that she puts her phone down right as Aziraphale comes into her shop for the first time. She seems to be texting him, but the text message arrives to his door as a note in the mail slot because that's how he expects to receive correspondences.

Changing the Bentley into Our Car -- and in the flashback to 1941 that happens after the trip to Edinburgh in the show, the Bently is still a four-door. He changed it and then made it so it always was that way. (There's a line in the book about someone being powerful enough to change something and then make it so it always was that way -- something that's repeated about the Book of Life, too. Hmm . . .) No wonder Crowley just opens up the back door to put his plants in, it's always had a back door at that point! And please don't @ me with the Bently is not a Clue -- the change happens right in scene, on screen. That was not a "they hoped no one would notice" moment. And yes, I know they weren't able to use Mary for the second season. They got a reasonable look-alike, and then changed that car into a four-door. For why??

The Bentley following him when he parks it. People have said, "Oh, yes, the Bentley is sentient, of course!" But it hasn't done anything to show that until after Aziraphale drives it. And don't @ me with the Queen -- the gag in the book says that any album left in a car for more than a fortnight transmogrifies into The Best of Queen. It's not the Bentley doing that, it's just a fact of Queen. (Can confirm.)

Aziraphale is terrible at magic. But somehow, when he really needs to make a trick work, he does it. Oh, yeah, babe? You just put that photo right up your sleeve slick as that? Hm.

That 25 Lazarii miracle. Neither of them expected that. Yet there it was.

The whole ball. He wasn't casting miracles, reality was just -- conforming itself to what he wanted.

Now my point is . . . I don't know. My observation is that reality seems to be following Aziraphale's wishes, and I don't think he even realizes that it shouldn't be. Not entirely. Or is it that he knows reality is re-shaping itself around him, and he's enjoying it?

Reality is not warping around Crowley in the same way, and Crowley seems to be able to feel something's wrong. Coming in waves, like a hangover.

Now, I have heard it said that Neil has also pointed out that our angel and demon warp reality just by existing. Okay, actually makes sense. How could an occult and celestial being not mess with reality without even realizing they're doing it?

Am I chewing on a nothing burger?

Is Aziraphale turned up somehow?

What is going on.

[theemporium]

blue-"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." nico being devastated he’s hurt and just needs to be held by his girlfriend

i made it a bit more emotional hurt than physical! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

29. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

.

It was bittersweet. 

He knew it was coming. The team knew it was coming. The fans knew it was coming. It had been a rough year with messy strategies, tough injuries and bad luck slapping them in the face after the season they had the previous year. It was rough and it weighed down on everyone and it was shattering. 

But, deep down, there was this little spark of hope in his chest. 

Hope that they could pull through and do the impossible. Hope that they could defy the odds and make it through to the playoffs. Hope that they would click and be the amazing team he knew they could be. 

He had so much fucking hope and it was completely washed away the second that final buzzer went, the reality that they had been eliminated finally settling amongst them as they looked at each other on the ice.

But Nico stepped up. He was the captain. He had these boys looking up to him and seeking him out as a pillar of comfort and reassurance. He couldn’t be moping around the locker room, not when he had to take care of his boys first. Not when he had to face the media and drag the interview out as long as he could so the other boys didn’t have to spend too long with them. Not when he had to deal with whatever debrief meetings and logistics the coaches and team wanted to have.

They may have been eliminated but he still had his duties to perform. 

He felt like he was running on pure muscle memory by the time he left the Rock, settling behind the wheel of his car with a heavy sigh. His brain was racing with a million different thoughts as he drove home, plaguing him with what if’s and could have been’s. Despite the exhaustion settling in his body, his mind felt far too wired and overwhelming and, fuck, he just wanted it to stop. 

And then he walked through the door and saw you cuddled up on the couch, drowning in one of his hoodies and a blanket his mother had gifted you both when you moved in, and the last of his resolve crumbled.

“Hey, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet and soothing as he dropped his bags at the door and quickly made his way towards you. He didn’t even hesitate as he practically draped himself on top of you, burying his face into the fabric of your—his—hoodie.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out because the words had been on the tip of his tongue. They had been lingering in the back of his head since the season had started, had been lingering after every loss and hardship the team and fans had to face. 

“Shhh, it’s not your fault, Nico,” you cooed, your arms winding around his body to hold him tight. Because somehow you knew what was going through his head, you knew the way he was spiralling, you just knew him. “None of this is your fault.”

“Just their faces—” he cut himself off with an unpleasant sound, something stuck between a sob and a scoff. Instead, he nuzzled himself closer like he could bury himself between your ribs and stay there forever. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Your fingers ran through his hair, your nails lightly scraping along his scalp in an attempt to soothe him. “Last year wasn’t a fluke, okay? This year was the fluke. Next season will be your season, I just know it.”

“You don’t know that,” he murmured, his words twisting the self-deprecating knife lodged in his heart since the season had started going downhill. 

“I know everything,” you corrected before lightly tugging on his hair until he lifted his head. You flashed him a soft smile, your hands gently holding his face as your thumb smoothed over the small scar on his cheek. “You’re gonna lead that team to the win you all deserve, Nico. I know that. The boys know that. The fans know that.”

He could only muster a small smile.

“And I will happily remind you until you believe in yourself again,” you added before leaning over to peck his lips, feeling the tension in his body finally start to leave for the first time since he entered the apartment.

“I love you,” he murmured when he couldn’t find any other words to capture how he was feeling.

“I love you too, baby.”

.

[fictionalslvr]

Part one. Part three.

SYNOPSIS:"Ghost" is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.212k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:There we go, back to the crying season. I literally cried while writing this one, so i really hope you guys like as much as i did. Remembering, this is the part two of this mini serie. And i HIGHLY recommend to listen to 'happier than ever' by Billie Eilish while reading this.

PREVIOUS PART

It’s been almost a month. Almost a month since Simon appeared at your door, he drinked some coffee with you, had a long talk that showed little things about him. And after he left your door to work, it’s been days since you don’t hear footsteps on the apartment above yours. You can’t help but worry, he said his work was hard, tiring and had big choices. You pace around your house, feeling a weird knot on your stomach, a strange sensation of anxiety consuming you, not seeing his eyes, hot hearing his chuckles, not smelling his unique scent…all of this makes you feel strange, he’s just a neighbor…right? So why are you feeling this way? He’s used to doing this, staying out, working and coming back, he’s fine that’s right. Then why couldn't your heart understand this?

The only thing keeping you calm is your little cat, her fluffy fur on your legs as she brushes herself against you, looking for some caress. You sit down on the couch and sigh, trying to think better and your cat jumps on your lap, purring while your fingers brush her fur gently. It’s almost like she can sense you’re not well at the moment, and tries her best to distract you.

—”You’re a smart kitten, no?” A sad smile flows out, and you can only breathe deep for a moment. You don't know why you’re feeling like this, he’s only your neighbor who’s a bit mysterious, you shouldn’t be worried about him. And yet, your last talk with him made you think all those days about him. He seems like someone who suffered a lot, even if he didn’t tell you what exactly. You can see it, his baggy eyes carrying a sad sparkle on it, like he saw so many things you can’t even imagine. Somehow, you appreciate his bravery, without even telling, you supposed that he suffered, only from his eyes.

He’s always using a balaclava, so there must be a reason for this. Maybe he’s insecure about his face, maybe he just wants to protect his identity for someone, or he just doesn't want people to read his emotions. If the last one is the answer, he’s terribly wrong, because only from his eyes, you could sense how this man carries a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Since when he moved in, you’re caught about his whole figure, everything about him was a mystery, like he can’t really trust anyone. You look around for a while, looking at the pictures on your home, you remember how Simon was staring at them non stop the last time you saw him, his eyes were painful to see, his eyes narrow to the frames as his eyebrows furrowed as your voice called his attention back. Something about family pictures made him perplexed.

It’s weird to say, but damn, you missed him. His raspy voice, his tall figure towering over yours, his short words, his eyes never leaving your face as you talk, he’s a great listener, you could say. Even without knowing much about him, you wanted to see him again, hear his voice, feel his scent, make eye contact, feel this weird human connection you two created quickly. You groan and roll your head back to the couch, staring at the ceiling while your mind don’t stop not even for a second, your mind filled with Simon and everything you noticed about him, like how calloused his hands are, how he seems to be a terrible sleeper, how he looks to hold himself back while he talks, scared he will expose more about his life, how he has a habit of shakes his legs every time, how his eyes don’t stop still, they’re always looking around, as if he’s making sure he’s safe. Every little detail that you could think of, you paid attention to him, like you never did before, you never was this detailed about someone, neither that interested about someone. He has something special, something that curls you up in his hands.

As for Simon? Being on a long mission wasn't that easy. Staying hours awake, the reason why he’s a terrible sleeper, sleeping in uncomfortable tents, thinking only about his objectives all day. It was awful, but, the only thing that reminded him he’s still human, is his friends, his teammates, the only ones he can say some dad jokes sometimes, the only ones who remind him he’s only doing his job, and nothing else, and somehow, that made him feel better. Knowing he’s not alone in this, that he’s not the only one making his hands dirty with blood, the only ones who made him feel less guilty for the blood dripping on his mask. Besides that, sometimes he caught himself thinking of his neighbor, the only one who had the courage to talk to him, that looked him in the eyes, that listened to his short talk, his voice and saw his miserable life. And yet, you don’t even know the whole story, if he did tell you…would you still smile at him? Would you still look him in the eyes? Would you still not be afraid of him? Would you still think he deserves to be loved? Because, he, himself, doesn't think he does. After all he did, all he passed through and lost, he didn't have a chance to be happy and live an ordinary life, he always had to remind how useless he was at protecting his family once, how he was a cowardly kid, how he suffered in dirty hands, how he felt used. Nothing more than a war machine, a big, strong and scary man that everyone frightens, that’s what he is, in his mind. As for you, such a gentle, kind and delicate woman…why would you listen to someone like him? He thinks he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

For now, there he is, stepping back to his apartment, his heavy boots making some noise as he's not even looking at the way he’s doing. It’s always like this when he’s back from a long mission, he felt like he was on automatic. His mask, a bit dirty like his gear, and he had some wounds too. He made his way on the halls, going to the elevator, it’s late, like 4AM.

And a soft voice calls for him before the elevator comes, the creaky wooden door behind him making noise.

—”Simon…?” —It’s your voice, he’s already used to that sweet melody. He doesn’t turn to face you, not wanting to scare you with his actual state.

—”Hello.” —Without noticing, you left a sigh of relief.

—”You’re back. I was worried.” —Your words make him disbelief, he turns to face you, and you can see a mask on his usual balaclava, his eyes widened as his pupils shake.

—”You shouldn’t.”

—”If I could control that. But I couldn't, and I'm happy you’re back." —His eyes fall to your figure, rubbing your eyes as you’re still sleepy, your pajamas from that day, and your voice sounds like honey.

—”What happened to you, Simon?”

—”I was working.”

—’Not this, these wounds…” — Realization crawls up to his mind, you shouldn’t be able to see him like this.

—”Shit.” — He mumbles under his breath and looks away. Your figure walks closer to him, it’s dark to see properly.

—”Please, come in. Let me take care of this for you.”

—”No need, I'm fine, thanks.” —How could he say no to your cute little eyes, looking up and down on his body, looking for every wound. Your fingers go to his arms, gently touching and pulling him inside your apartment. Without a word, he just follows, he could easily get rid of your hands on him, and he didn’t.

You close the door and make him sit on your couch, picking up a med kit in your kitchen, sitting beside him.

—”You’re not going to ask why I'm like this?”

—”Only if you want to say why.” — Your eyes meet him, looking for his approval before you lift up the sleeves of his gear, finding a very bad wound on it, how he wasn’t feeling the pain? He just nods, and you lift his sleeves gently. He loved how caring you are, always searching his approval for everything, even simple things like this. He loves how gentle you were towards a man like him.

—”Then…can we not?”

—”Of course, Simon.”

He always enjoyed how his name would sound in your tongue, in your voice. It made his heart skip a beat everytime. With caution, you clean up his wound, and he doesn't hisses, doesn't frown or groan, he just watches in silence, looking into your eyes all the time. Nothing matters now, not the pain, not the blood, no. Only you, and your kindness.

—”What were you doing awake?”

—”I wasn’t. I heard your footsteps.”

—”How did you know it was mine?”

—”I guessed. You’re the only one who would walk around at this time.” —His dark brown eyes were staring at your face, you looked so concentrated now, even while sleepy like this, you managed to do this. To take care of him.

—”Why are you doing this?”

—”Because I care about you, Simon.”

Those words, it’s been years since he heard it, seem unreal. Why would you care about him? What did he do to deserve such kindness? Is God finally hearing his prays he did when he was young? No, you’re only his neighbor, this is normal…right?

—”Why?”

—"Do i need a reason?" —He only looks away, his head nodding at your words. You were right, you don’t need reasons to do what you’re doing. Though, he really wanted you to have one. He needed you to have a reason to help a man like him.

A comfortable silence creeps in between both, it’s a silence that yells inside, so many questions on both sides, but no one wants to ask it. Simon looks on your window, the curtain flowing and showing the moon bright in the sky, giving him a feeling he never felt before…love, in its truest form, just pure love. Being taken care of like this, he doesn’t even know why he accepted this, normally he would ignore it and go to bed, sleeping only two hours or less. But you, have your gentle fingers wrapping his wound now, gently patching it with a gauze, you had some talent for this, he wondered…have you ever taken care of someone else? Because you seem to be used to this.

—”Well done.” —You mumbles under your breath, your eyelids blink slowly, you’re so sleepy…it’s adorable.

—”Thanks.” —Oh really? Is everything he can mumble after this help? He can’t express anything more than this. Honestly, he didn’t need to, his eyes locked with yours, your body painted with the moonlight and the dark blue sky, and you can see how he feels grateful for you. You smile gently.

—”No need to, I was just worried when I saw you like this.”

Simon sighs, taking off the skull mask on his covered face, leaving only his balaclava as you’re used to.

—”It’s normal for me to get back like this.”

—”With wounds?”

—”Not only on my body.”

—”You know you can’t live like this forever, right?”

—”I always did.”

—”And this will hurt you eventually, Simon. You can’t hide emotions and think everything is okay. They will overflow.”

—”You don’t know me well for this.” —Simon gets up from your couch, his voice getting rougher, and looks at your door. You felt a twist in your guts, he’s worried you might figure him out, because you’re already doing.

—”If you’re being kind only to know my past, forget it. I’m not a storyteller.”

—”Who told you I wanted this? I’m pretty sure it was yourself.” —Now it’s your time to get up and meet his eyes, his eyes can’t lie to you.

—”You’re tricking yourself with this, Simon.”

He hated this, how pretty you look while your skin sparkled with the moonlight, how your eyes made him nowhere to run, how you would read him like a book, even if you two don’t know for a long time.

—”You don’t know me enough to say that.”

—”Being cold won’t keep me away, if that's what you’re trying to do.”

The only thing Simon does is curse under the black silk on his face. He didn’t like to look so predictable, so vulnerable like this. But at the same time, he just wants to be taken care of by you, and only you, no one else. He stays silent for what seems like an eternity, there's nothing else to say. What would he do now? Being cold wasn't going to keep you away, and he knows he will only hurt you, and lose someone like you would be dumb. All of his thoughts were making him dizzy, it was too much, he didn’t feel like this in years, and now it just makes him confused, he doesn't know how to deal with this anymore.

—”Look, Simon, it’s okay. You don’t have to agree with what I say. I just want you to know that even if I don't know you too well, you’re already someone I care about.” —You whispered to him, this tone was enough to bring him back to reality. His heart skips a beat at your words, he didn’t deserve you. At least he doesn’t think so.

—”Do you even realize what you’re saying? I’m a stranger at your house. Aren’t you scared?”

—”Not of you.” —A cute smile spreads on your face, and poor Simon, he feels his legs weaker, his heart melt at the same second.

—”You’re crazy. I can’t understand you.”

He’s being genuine on this, he can’t understand how optimistic you are, how cute, pretty, kind you are. And damn, that hairs of yours, the smell makes him insane, he always tries his best to stay away.

—”And I can't understand you as well, we’re even now.” —Simon can’t help but chuckle in disbelief with your words. Oh God, why couldn’t he have a normal life…by your side if that’s possible?

—”Look, [name], I appreciate the help. I should go now, I already messed up your sleep too much.”

—”Wait…can’t you stay just until i sleep? I can’t go back to sleep alone now.”

—”Uhm…sure.” —He looks away, and you giggle. Quickly, you make your way to the couch again and make yourself comfortable there, laying your body and closing your eyes. He watched every movement, not really wanting to look like a perv or something, he wouldn’t ever want to make you embarrassed.

—”Goodnight, Simon.”

—”Night.” —Simon clears his throat, looking while you find a good position to sleep, you look so peaceful. Maybe having him around makes you feel this way. His eyes are glued to your face, so delicate and calm while you breath slowly, it was an adorable sight, he thought to himself. His thick accent was the last thing you heard before falling asleep, quicker than he thought you would. Simon looks around and sees a blanket on another couch, he takes it and gently puts it above your body, making you nuzzle into it as the cold breeze was a problem your sleeping figure didn’t know it needed help. “How stupid” he thinks to himself, he’s a war criminal, why the hell does he have a soft stop for a person he doesn’t even know the age? His strong arms could rip you apart, since you’re so fragile like this. Correcting himself, he could, but he couldn’t even think of doing it, you’re so delicate, he just wants to protect you, not the contrary. He sighs, and notices he’s been looking at your sleeping figure for a long while now. He walks to your door and holds the handle, but something curls on his legs before he can walk outside, it’s your kitten. That lazy female cat who decided to greet the man on his second visit here, her white and orange fur on his gear.

—”Bloody hell.” — Simon caught himself watching his tone for you, not wanting to wake you up. The little kitten meows while twirling around Simon’s legs, he sighs and rolls his eyes up, one hand holds his mask, the other rubs the cat’s chin with his gloves on, so rough, and yet, bent down to caress your cat.

—”Now…let me leave, lil’one.” — His strong accent keeps there, while he…whispers with your cat. He gets up and opens your wood creaky door with caution, giving a head nod to your cat and closing the door when he steps away.

It’s so hard to leave, to leave that warm, cozy, happy place. To meet his dark and cold home, he can only sigh with the thought. Why is it so hard to leave? Why is his heart throbbing? That’s stupid, he’s not a teenager anymore, he’s a grown ass man that can deal with his feelings, he thinks so. He’s only trying to fool himself into that idea, because he knows when he steps his foot inside his apartment, he will crave for the sound of your voice, your warmth and your damn smile, and mostly, your words. So well chosen like you know exactly what to say to make him fall. You’re clever enough for his rudeness. He knows you will be just below, living your life peacefully and he will get back to his miserable life, alone, with his bad thoughts. If only he was open to his own feelings, he would see how fucked up he is now. Already missing you and wanting to stay by your side. His delusional mind wanders to a life together, you would say him goodbye when he’s out for missions, calls him, send letters, and he would keep a photo of you on his pocket, only so when he’s not motivated, he looked at it and remembers why he’s there, to make you safe. He would come back to your arms and stay beside each other, you would see his face behind that balaclava and smile, knowing the real Simon, while he leaves Ghost on the job.

That’s when he comes back to earth, being on his balcony, his balaclava lifted up a little bit as he smokes, taking a puff of his cigarette and sending it back into the sky with a blow. The breeze makes him shiver even with his gear still on, and the thoughts consume himself.

—"I'm fucked up."— Simon realizes when his thoughts wanders too much. He tosses the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it as his raspy voice talks to himself. Going to bed at 6AM, and not even being able to sleep, because his heart decided to throb about someone he doesn’t even know well, his brain decides to play with his sanity once more. He can’t take this feeling growing inside of him, it’s weird. Simon stares at the ceiling, laying at bed, his hands caressing his chest as he feels pain inside, right on his heart. Not even his patched wound would hurt like this.

What is this feeling...is he...falling in love? You leave him in tatters. And even while he's thinking you're perfect, you still have your problems as well, he's not the only one broken, and he will discover this soon.

[yaut-jaknowit]

The Monarch

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3543

Summary: You’re staying on the mothership with who you thought was your lover. It was the mating season. Before your hunter goes off, he tells you that. You’re left heart broken and in shock. When he doesn’t return in a reasonable time, you leave the quarters and wander the ship. You find yourself at a private area. Out comes her.

Author Note: I told myself I would never make a pink Yautja (just my own preferences) but here I am, making another mommy Yautja to love on.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

“You’re nothing but a burden.” World shattering words. Gut wrenching words. Words that leave you devastated. No ground to stand on. Nothing to stable yourself.

Your mate, your everything, the person you dropped everything for to be with. He… he, god. No. He couldn’t do this. This wasn’t real! You had to be dreaming. Why would he say that to you? What led to this moment to be dropped nothing more than a pack of potatoes? You were too overwhelmed to think properly. To show any emotion besides a dropped jaw and just to stare into harden eyes. Eyes that used to soften when they found your form.

There was nothing soft or gentle about your giant. No. All of it was gone. Gone from existence.

“Why?”

It’s all that you could muster in the fog clouding your thoughts. Your hands shook at your side, trembling with uncontrollable anxiety. Blood rushed in your ears, the only sound you hear clearly. You just stared into his eyes, not a clear thought between your eyes.

He scoffed, mandibles pulled tight to show his disgust. “You are ooman. You not understand Yautja way. Breeding season, you are of no use to me.”

When you thought it couldn’t get worse, the universe willingly showed how wrong you are. How could a shattered heart break even more? You stumbled a couple steps away from him to hold onto the back of a couch behind me. Even that barely gave you any stability in this moment.

“But-but we, you, how….” All you wanted to do was break down and sob and do everything in your power to keep him. What did he except from you now? What were the next steps to proceed?

The now unfamiliar Yautja kept his head high with pride and arms firmly crossed  over a chest you were laying on last night. Last night. Everything was fine last night. Just any normal night. Nothing to show the next morning your mate would abandon you.

He grunted before turning around, putting his back to you and walking away. His claws lightly clicking against the metal floors. Your vision went blurry as he left, unfocused. Mind blank as you tried to make sense of the situation. Then, you fell to your knees with a hearty sob. One that shook you to your very core. You released everything.

For hours, you leaned all your weight against the back of the couch and cried your eyes out. Even after your voice grew hoarse and hurt, you didn’t stop. Now, what were you going to do? Here you were, stuck on an alien ship, with no way back to earth. Your mate abandoned you for… for others. It’s not like you ask or buy a ticket home. With no Yautja to protect you now, you were fresh meat to the younglings or freshly blooded to screw with you. You weren’t going to last a week before someone went too far.

Your pride didn’t allow you to even think about asking your… your ex mate about helping you home. He already just abandoned you without a second thought. Why the change? Why had it changed? You roughly wiped at the tears rolling down you sticky, salty cheeks. More came to wet the skin there. It was pointless until your emotions finally run dry.

A hopeful, hopeless thought kept you there for an unknown amount of time. Maybe he would come to his senses and come back. Anything to give you an ounce of hope this was all a dream, a nightmare. But he didn’t come back in a reasonable amount of time. That made your chest ache somehow more.

That’s when you pulled yourself up by your pants, took a deep breath, and ventured out. Since, your mate decided to up and leave you out of nowhere, there was an unpredictable aura to what he might do to you if he returned and found you. There was nothing in the honor code from truly stopping him from killing you. You were prey. A small part of you didn’t want to believe it but now, you were thrust upon the world of predators as meek prey. Now, you had to survive all by yourself. Out in a world that was fully against you. Just that thought made you want to break down crying again.

The predators that you scuttled past could smell your sorrow, a nasty smell. Many of them already had a distain for the fact you were on the ship. None of this new to you. It was a small uproar at first. But your mate, oh your mate, he defended you and did what had to be done for your sake. Which was claim you as a pet so no one could touch or cause any sort of harm to you.

That’s why this whole change in behavior didn’t make sense.

Your feet carried you as your mind just wandered to all spectrums of the situation. All you were trying to do was reel in some sort of survival plan for the new future. All you had to was survive. Could you do that? Was it possible? You took a shuttering breath and dipped down an empty hall. As you did this, you felt the piercing eyes of predators slowly leaving your trembling frame. The weight finally being lifted off of your shoulders.

From there, you just lumbered along. Not in any rush or hurry. Not paying much attention to the surrounding area. Not caring about what could happen.

One of the wall’s of the hall turned to glass, revealing the vast void of empty space. Stars in distant galaxies sparkled, shining bright like diamonds. There were no nearby planets that you could make out. The sight made you shiver harshly. Here you were, nothing more than a bundle of atoms in a galaxy that didn’t give a shit about you. You were going to die.

So be it. You sat down, back to the wall and gazed out to the galaxy. Despite being dangerous and unforgiving, it was stunning. The stars and colors that the galaxy held took your breath away. Part of the reason you said yes to joining your mate and leaving your planet behind. Look where that got you know. At lease before you die, you can say you’re the only human to go this deep into space. Let alone see this far into the universe. You couldn’t help the shy smile on your lips at the thought.

As you sat there, you smacked your lips together and realized how thirsty you were. All the crying has made you dehydrated. Could you even make it out of the mess hall alive without him? Would you accidentally run into him? If you did, what would h-

A shadow casted over your tiny frame. Fear entered your body like freezing water. Your breath got caught as you didn’t know what to do. Should you dare to look, risk the wrath of a stranger, see the person possible for murdering you? Or just let them have their way and go?

Massive, dark green and mixes of browns, feet could be seen at the edge of your vision. Double shit. You were dead. The feet shifted then you felt a heavy weight settle down next to you. A deep, gruttle groan vibrating the air. All you did was pin your eyes on the ground and refused to move. Or wish death upon yourself.

The new form leaned back against the wall, same as you. Their shadow still blocked out some of the light on you, even sitting next to you.

Finally, you peeked look and felt like you were to shit yourself. Her eyes were already on you, as if she was waiting for you to sneak a glance. Her head wasn’t fully facing you, just looking out the corner of her eyes. You swore you saw an upper mandible quirk up once the two of you eyes met. A massive female was sat comfortably next to you, as if it was completely normal. She was adorn us beautifully created and wrapped clothing and jewelry. You immediately recognized her.

How could you not? A figure that was incredibly posing for just her title. But it wasn’t just that had you trembling in terror. We’ar-ow. Monarch of this mothership. Monarch. Who was sitting next to you without batting an eye about your presence. At this point, you swore there was beads of sweat rolling down your face.

We’ar-ow peacefully rested, eyes now gazing out into the vast universe her kind explores and hunts through. Though, she showed no interest either in a good or bad way, you scrambled to your feet. A swift, unsteady pace started to put as much di- “Wait.” The voice of battle worn yet gentle leader commanded. Despite not being one of her kind, all of your muscles froze. Nothing would listen to the instinct to dash away to somewhere safer.

There was soft tink sound of her metal jewelry behind you. Nothing major nor did a creeping feeling of dread grow. Which told you she hadn’t gotten up to chase you. Maybe she turned her head? Oh, you felt the stare of a predator now.

Claws tapped against metal. “Sit,” We’ar-ow commanded with a voice that held no room for arguing. It sounded like she didn’t even need to try. Like the tone was built in, intergraded since she was a child. Everything atom in your body shuttered; and gave in. You timidly turned back around and found her patting the spot you were just in with a massive hand. Hands that could easily tear your head from your shoulders without much hassle.

Your lungs wheezed quietly as you timidly stepped back over to her, giving yourself an extra foot. Then, you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how much she towered over you. Not reaching her midriff in this state, probably worse when standing next to each other. Why does she want you here? Your mind was running a thousand miles per minute trying to come up with a reason on why. But nothing logical came to mind, just thoughts of her luring you in to kill you. Even that doesn’t make much sense, yet here you are.

The massive female drew her hand back into her lap and stilled. From what you could feel – not daring to look, she was focused on what was outside the window. You could hear your heart pounding wildly in your ear. The only sound you could hear as you sat tense and rigid. A terrified animal resting next to a predator.

Through the overwhelming sound of blood pumping, you heard that tale tell sign of extra air. “You are that pet I’ve heard much about.” A flare of anger surged through you before a cold dose of water splashed it out. Calm, it’s okay.

Despite her speaking directly at you, you didn’t dare to respond, let alone look at her. “You know it is dangerous to be without your master, correct?” Shit, a question. Nervous of doing something wrong, I just dipped my head. Your mate had warned about going anywhere without him on the first day here. Being a pet gave you protection but some Yautjas don’t believe that humans deserve to be in the presence of them.

She hummed, voice deep and grumbly. “You reek of sorrow.” More of a statement than a question. Right, their kind have a great sense of smell. That meant she could smell everything. Once more, you didn’t say or do anything, afraid of angering her.

Chuckling, guttural in sound. We’ar-ow presence grew incredibly close, suddenly. Her warmth radiating off of her to soak into your skin. You couldn’t help but flinch. An arm raising to cover your head as if that would do a thing against her. “You are pet. I cannot harm you,” she reminded you like that would help your situation.

Almost, you scoffed and were close to opening your mouth to a make remark. One that would cost you your life. Instead, you held your tongue and waited for her to lose interest in you.

“Oomans are strange creatures. So diverse in personality and culture. Why do you k-ri? Why do you sorrow?” Those are questions that required words. Words you didn’t want to speak. Why was she so interested in you? We’ar-ow is an old monarch. She’s had to seen hundreds of humans before. So this whole interaction confused you.

A lump in your throat prevented any sounds from being voiced. Probably for the better.

There was a heavy huff next to you. “I asked you a question. Answer.” Oh, you were so screwed, incredibly fucked. She didn’t even have to pull the title card to have you even more petrified.

You finally were able to swallow the major part of the lump down and nervously cleared your throat. “N-no reason,” is all you can get out. Not daring to spill your trouble to the monarch of this mothership and clan.

She growled at your lie but didn’t move. “I hear your lie,” like a mother scolding their child. Nothing more needed to be said to know that was the wrong route. You flinched by curling into a ball and protecting your head with a terrified yelp. Words that could sound like ‘sorry’ could barely be made out behind your arms and legs. “Speak the truth. I’m curious what had upset a pet to run idiotically through my ship without their master.”

Nothing could move you from your ball. You swallowed once more. “I-I,” you started, immediately stumbling over your words. We’ar-or growled lowly. If it wasn’t for the earlier command earlier, you would’ve been up and out quicker than she could blink. You squeaked and curled up tighter.

“Speak clearly and firm. You make yourself prey by acting like one,” she said, eyes boring into your skull. You didn’t need to see to know this.

You gave a timid nod and breathed in. Gaining a few drops of courage from her words, I straightened back but couldn’t find it in myself to look at her. “My-my master, he abandoned-“ your heart ached at the reminder of what he told you earlier- “me. Told me I was a burden then left.”

Her response was a deep hum before the silence engulfed us again. You didn’t know if that was better than hearing her talk. All you could hear was your heart pounding and the air circulating through the vents. You had to stop yourself from curling up again. Don’t act like prey. Was it better to act argonaut or to be prey surrounded by predators?

“Abandoned you say? Disgusting. He took you into his care, you are his responsibility. I warned him, to ensure this is what he wanted. Dishonorable to abandon you,” she spoke, voice hardened with disgust. Like, she cared about the situation. Did she? Why would she? You found it in yourself to turn your head and looked at her. Her eyes finding yours immediately. “Now, you’re a pet without a master…” Now, you flinched and bowed your head

Rough, textured fingers pinched your chin and lifted your head. We’ar-ow turned your head this and that way. Her piercing eyes studying you. She bummed while in thought before dipping her head for a second. “So be it. You will be my new pet. I’ll challenge that pathetic male just to ensure he cannot say I stole you. Even if he dared to accuse that to me, I would best in a match.” Your heart felt like it exploded in your chest. The monarch… Oh my god. She just-no-I huh?!

You find your voice. “Why?” Immediately, you tried to bow your head again. That was incredibly rude. But her hand simply kept it raised. “Sorry.”

We’ar-ow chuckled. She wasn’t angered or offended. Relief flooded your veins. Almost, you almost relaxed but kept vigilant. After your mate had broken your heart, you weren’t going to be so naïve anymore. The female Yautja leaned in, long tresses slipping over her shoulder. Her hot, moist breath fanning over your face. “Because, I’m the Monarch.” You shuttered. And she was right. She needed no reason to give for taking what she wants. Even if it lands her in a battle.

Her hand was still on your chin and keeping your face towards her. You desperately wanted to pull away, shy away, but she didn’t let you. It seemed like she wanted to make you squirm and sweat under her gaze. “And I take what I want.” That sounded everything besides arrogant. It was truth. Both of you knew it without a doubt.

Your throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. “Okay,” you whispered, barely above silence. One of her upper mandibles quirked up. Her eyes scanned up and down your body before a look of disgust falling over her features. Her free hand pinched at the fabric hanging off of your shoulders that made up your shirt. Clothing that your ex-mate had created for you.

“This will have to change. You reek of that male. No more,” she stated firmly. For once, you agreed with her. It would be a good change, possibly for the better. Though, the pet thing will never sit right with you, you’ll have to work with it.

“And some jewelry. I will not have my pet look so meek or low status. You are pet of Tourk’on Clan’s Monarch. Keep your chin level and be proud of who owns you,” We’ar-ow offered for advice. You timidly looked into her eyes and held the longest eye contact before. It earned you a chuff and a smirk. “Good pet.” Praise that sent your heart fluttering. This time, in a good way.

With the hand not holding onto your chin, she ran a deadly claw down your temple, over the crest of your cheek bone, and down to your jawline before falling over. “You are mine now. I won’t abandon you like that scum male.” Fuck, that caused something deep inside of you to ignite. Yet, you kept your guard up. Your trust had been broken, harshly and without care less than two hours ago. You still ached. You still hurt. But, a small part of you desperately wanted to have what you had with your ex-mate again. It would be difficult to move on after everything that has happened. You could do it though. You have made it this far in a universe destined to kill you.

Then, a yawn broke the scene. You ensured your teeth were kept covered, something you were taught. We’ar-ow slightly pulled back before laughing and shaking her massive head. Today has worn you down to the bone. “Tired, my pet? Already?” You believed yourself to be crazy to think you heard a teasing tone in her voice.

Before you had a chance to do or say anything, two sturdy, thickly corded arms slipped underneath your form. You were simply lifted to be curled against a chest. By god’s grace. You felt like you were dead or dreaming because she didn’t just pick you. God, did she? You looked down. It was her arms holding you to her body. The Monarch was carrying you. Carrying you. She was holding you in her grasp. Her powerful, lethal legs started a path to the designation in her mind. Wherever that might be.

Through the halls of a ship We’ar-ow ruled, the Monarch carried you like a sack of potatoes. All the Yautjas that crowded the halls either stared or did a double take. Many mandibles dropped. Almost an uproar of whispering between everyone sounded the moment the two of past. We’ar-ow didn’t even twitch a muscle in response. As if she was expecting this to happen.

After an elevator ride to the highest floor on the ship, one you’ve never could even dream to be on, she stepped into her room. Or what you believed as hers. We’ar-ow dismissed everything and head straight to a room off to the side. It was around twice the size of your ex-mate’s bedroom.

Off in one corner was an hugely oversized dog bed, more considered a normal bed in your eyes. A large bowl was set close by to said bed, filled with clear liquid. Toys and such, like cat or dog toys sat neatly on the mattress covered bed. Blankets and furs as well.

We’ar-ow didn’t let you have much time to take in the room from her arms and brought you over to the bed. You were placed down. It was heaven. Your body sunk into the fabric as it swaddled you. She stood above you at her full height, apposing and known as fatal. Her piercing eyes pinned on your form and nothing more. “I will let you sleep before retrieving you at a later time. I will change your old master to a duel and win you over.” If this was anyone else, it would be arrogant and boastful. This wasn’t just anyone. We’ar-ow has set out a plan of action she will proceed with.

No if, and, or but’s about it.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

[monzamash]

unless you like that — daniel ricciardo

summary – it’s events season and the alcohol is flowing.  rating – a whole lotta smut 18+ (sex scene, course language, drinking) pairing – daniel ricciardo x you (female reader) word count – 3.8k of absolute filth a/n – bit of plot but mostly just sex because drunk, flirty danny ric makes me feral. that's it. enjoy the ride. masterlist

All you wanted to do was drag Daniel back to your hotel room, get reacquainted after a couple of torturous weeks of being apart, maybe run a hot bath and enjoy the rest of your night in peace.

In your dreams.

You never really had Daniel for long during the season and because of that, you wanted to make the most of your time actually being in the same country, let alone the same city. But your handsome, social butterfly of a boyfriend had other ideas – ones that didn’t factor in your desire to have him all to yourself.

So good to see ya too, mate.

We’ve gotta catch up next time you’re in LA, man.

Maaaate, long time no see!

How’s ya mum going? Tell her I said hi.

The mum's bloody loved themselves a bit of Daniel Ricciardo.

The long, doting line of people wanting to wish Daniel good luck for next year and praising his strength through adversity while getting a sneaky selfie was never ending. To put it plainly, it was obnoxious but you were used to it now. He was effervescent, charismatic – a big ‘ol magnet to anyone and everyone. You loved him endlessly, admired his ability to smile through the pain even more but all you wanted to do was say goodnight to everyone and leave.

Barely two words were shared before you were whisked off in a car and through the doors of this swanky restaurant – the private function room and bottomless champagne making it less excruciating.

“All I can think about is getting this over and done with so I can come back here and rip this unbelievably beautiful dress off you.”

Those ‘barely two words’ were enough ammunition to last you a couple of hours, holding onto the hope of that promise coming true. But right now you had to try and enjoy the night and put any filthy thoughts you may or may not be having aside for the sake of your own sanity. Smile and wave.

You didn’t know exactly what the party was for but you knew that the McLaren team were the ones throwing it from the obnoxious amount of orange balloons hanging from the ceiling – and that Daniel was obliged to attend. But you would never have guessed that he was there as a contractual obligation the way he floated through the room, saying hello to every last individual, bright smile adorning his face. He made each and every person feel like a million bucks. That’s why they loved him, because he made them feel at ease – like he was one of them.

Daniel didn’t think there was a whole lot for him to be celebrating but he always underestimated how loved he was by McLaren – racing problems aside, he was adored by the staff who were devastated to see him leaving.

And somehow in a room of nearly a hundred people, he knew nearly everyone by name, zeroing in long enough to have them eating out of the palm of his hand.

Your words, not his.

“Could you say hello to my grandson – he loves you.” An older lady asked, phone locked and loaded for the video. God help him if he said no.

“Absolutely.”

Of course he said yes. That was the kind of person Daniel was. Not a people pleaser or a push over – just a genuinely nice guy with more patience than anyone you’d ever known.

After making your way around most of the room, you finally had a second to drink in your man. The freshly steamed, light blue linen shirt was lazily buttoned over his shoulders, leaving a the tiniest bit of chest hair showing for good measure and to tease you, no doubt. He’d gone for his classic black skinny jeans sitting atop a pair of shiny black dress shoes look that you loved and those wild curls that you’d spent hours twirling between your fingers flowed onto his forehead – he looked so fucking good.

His charm and kindness always had you singing his praises and you made sure he knew how wonderful he was, how attractive he was. Your soft whispers of admiration had his heart pumping as he took a sip of his Chateau Margaux red, lips quirked in a smile. “So sexy.”

“Which part of all that was sexy? The bit where I filmed a video for that women’s grandkid? You are an absolute deviant if that’s makin’ ya feel a certain way, my girl.”

Daniel loved to tease, especially when it garnered that kind of reaction. Rolling eyes, flushed cheeks and a gentle shove in the arm. He fucking lived for it.

“No, dickhead.” You scolded under your breath, “Just… you being you. I don’t know what it is.”

You couldn’t put your finger on it but you knew how it made you feel. Seduced.

“Maybe you can figure it out in our hotel room.”

Daniel shrugged with a smirk lining his lips, nonchalantly throwing out the idea as if he hadn’t been plotting a way to leave the party early. Wishing for nothing more than to have you praising his other set of skills, if you catch my drift. Rolling your eyes with flushed cheeks but in a very different context. He was twitching at the thought as his fingertips lightly scratched at the silky material covering your ribs, dragging your body closer to his.

“Don’t tempt me, Ricciardo. All I’ve wanted since the second we got here was to leave so don’t talk a big game if you can’t deliver.” You were whispering in his ear, hoping to spur on those scheming eyes staring back at you.

“When have I not delivered? Just call me FedEx,” He joked, swaggering away from the bar and waving to Lando who had just rocked up with his crew in tow.

“Do we even know what this party’s for?” Lando asked over the loud music blasting through the speakers, taking the smallest step back after he gave us both a hug hello.

Lando looked dapper compared to his usual hoodie and track pants ensemble that he'd wear around the track. He was slightly confused by the overt extravagance he’d walked into but he was always smiling your way, making you feel welcome. You were going to miss his cheekiness and the way he brought out a different side to Daniel. Mischief always seemed to follow those two.

“Probably just a way for McLaren to swing their dick around before the end of the season,” Daniel shrugged, completely oblivious to how crude his comment was. Thankfully Lando was more than used to it now after working so closely with him so you didn’t have to apologise on Daniel’s behalf.

“The wine’s ace though.” He quickly added.

“You would say that,” Lando replied, snickering quietly as he looked over at the bar, “Might actually grab a drink and come back. Want anything?"

Lando looked between you and Daniel as you both shook your heads until he turned away and disappeared into the crowd, “Kid’s not gonna know what hit him next year – being the golden boy isn’t what it’s cracked up to be…”

You nodded and watched Daniel’s eyes following Lando, pensively taking a sip of his wine before sighing and glancing back to you, “What?”

“Nothing,” You tutted, “It’s funny how much you care about him now after how rocky the relationship was in the beginning. I love that he’s softened you a little bit, made you less of a prick.” You winked.

The insincere insult tacked onto the end made Daniel’s thick eyebrows rise with faux hurt, an exaggerated gasp masterfully added for emphasis, “Me? A prick? I wouldn’t reckon a prick snags a girl like you.”

You watched as Daniel sculled the rest of his wine, a devilish smirk hiding behind the large glass, “No chance. Unless you like that.”

“I don’t hate it.”

Daniel's laugh was dark as he took a step forward, lessening the gap between the two of you before reaching up and brushing your hair over your shoulder, “Now you’re tempting me and that’s not fair.” He whispered into your ear, carefully placing his empty glass on the table beside you.

“Nothings really fair though, is it? You having to be here instead of buried deep inside me, fucking me until I –”

“The bar line’s a fucking ‘mare,” Lando loudly interrupted and caused you to jump back from Daniel’s side. You steadied yourself on his hip for balance as you watched Lando plot his next move.

“Oh, there’s Charlotte – she’ll have an in!”

You and Daniel politely nodded again while he shot off in the other direction, and the two of you shifted away from the middle of the room, out of view of prying eyes and into a private nook. Daniel was quick to pin you up against the wall, large hand pressing into your hip as you looked up at him with innocent eyes. He could see right through you.

“Don’t give me that look,” He growled, eyes narrowed. “Look at what you do to me.”

His whispered words and flickering eyes encouraged your hands that were playing with his slightly parted shirt to travel further south, fingertips tracing over his dark denim jeans that were a lot tighter than when he first got here. Almost too tight.

“You are fuckin’ cruel, sweetheart.”

The painfully hard outline pressing against your palm intoxicated your already foggy mind, mouth watering. You could feel your thighs magnetically pulling together as his thumb flicked the dimple in your chin, forcing you to look into his dark, misty eyes that were watching your every move.

"Want me to do something about it?" It was a bold question to ask, a dangerous one, even when you noticed his eyes change colour. They were blacker than the night sky now.

Daniel was exasperated, anguished by the question as he smiled and dipped his forehead onto yours. The answer was obviously “abso-fucking-lutely, get down on your knees and show me you love me” but he knew better. And so did you. Still, the warm puff of air from his laugh still sent surging chills down your arched spine, needy for his touch.

“I hate sayin’ no to you,” He rasped and closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, “Especially when I know how fucking good you feel but no. You can't.”

You dryly chuckled and brushed your hands over his puffed out chest, “Must be absolute torture, my boy. Thankfully I can hide how I’m feeling – you? Not so much.” You replied with gritted teeth and a shrug, smirk dancing on your lips.

“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ in for it later, mate.” He playfully retorted before pulling himself from your grasp and leaving you with what he thought was a threat, but what you took as a promise you hoped to God he would keep. You were soaked. to. the. core.

The expensive champagne continued to flow freely for hours and several glasses of wine later had you and Daniel fumbling around at your hotel room door, unsure whether you’d arrived at the right number and having absolutely no idea where the key card you barely remembered giving him had gone. It also didn’t help that Daniel’s lips hadn’t left the crook of your neck while you dug through your clutch, his fingers inching closer to danger with every passing second.

“Lemme see your pockets,” You huffed and shoved your hand into his jeans pocket, causing a loud shriek to slip from his lips.

“You’re just tryin’ to touch my dick!” He shouted, louder than he expected and definitely louder than you accepted as appropriate, even in your drunken stupor, "You can if ya want."

“Shuuuush!” You hissed, trying not to laugh as Daniel gazed up at the ceiling and reached into his back pocket, searching until his eyes lit up with excitement. “Ah-huh!”

“Thank god – now hurry up and fuck me please!” You whisper-yelled, praying for the sweet sound of a door unlocking.

“Alright, ya horn-bag. Give me a sec- ond… Shit!” Daniel paused and looked back at you with wide eyes, “Wrong room.”

You could faintly hear the sound of footsteps behind the large door in front your shocked face. Before you could even muster a response to his mortifying revelation, Daniel had you in his grasp, dragging you down the hallway, panting and hoping he had a plan. He always did.

“Room 1001 – not 1011,” He coughed through his laughter, hovering the keycard over the lock and finally revealing the room we’d left nearly 5 hours ago, “Home sweet home.”

“Shut up,” You mumbled, throwing your arms over his shoulders and jumping into his embrace. Daniel groaned at your sudden burst of energy and hoisted you up on his waist, mouths instantly attached and desperately trying to defy physics.

Your vision was blurry when you pulled away for air, lips still touching, noses knocking and your hands still roaming the expanse of Daniel’s broad shoulders. You could feel him moving you further into the room that was spinning, the ceiling fan still whirring above your head. That was the first thing you saw when you landed on the messy hotel bed and left for dead by Daniel who was chuckling at the foot, watching you lay back in defeat.

“I’m stupidly drunk.” You huffed.

Daniel nodded as you looked up at him through hooded eyes, “So, so drunk.”

“Not that drunk.”

Your pointed finger and wiggling eyebrows told him exactly what you were referring to, lip bite and dark eyes forever selling you out.

“Take off your pants.” You ordered.

Daniel’s grin dropped into a smirk as you propped yourself up on your elbows, encouraging your boyfriend to give you a little show. Tipsy or not, Daniel knew what you wanted and he’d move heaven and earth to give you whatever you asked for. A heat rushed across his chest as he gazed down at you, undressing for him. The silky satin dress slipped off a lot easier than it went on, a detail not going unnoticed by Daniel who was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, moaning at the sight of your white lacy thong that you knew he loved.

“Killing me.”

“You love it, baby.”

“I live for it.”

The banter was hot, if not hotter than the actual sex. Foreplay was your forte but you weren’t in a ‘building a narrative’ kind of mood. It was primitive now – the primal need for a release outweighing the desire to fuck around with each other. That was the kind of fun best saved for the morning. You were already looking forward to that.

“Look how wet I am for you, Danny.”

Daniel growled as he kicked his jeans off, boxer briefs attached as they flung across the room, discarded with his wrinkled linen shirt. He stood for a moment – naked, painfully hard and begging to be touched before crawling up onto the California king. You could feel him throbbing as he brushed up on your inner thigh, legs open and wrapped around his waist in a matter of seconds. Lips attached again, frenziedly needing for more.

“Give it to me.” You pathetically pled.

“I wanna taste first.”

You resented his love for you in that moment. Resented that he wanted to indulge in what you had to offer, when all you wanted was the main course. The sharp huff that slipped from your lips made Daniel chuckle into your inner thigh, sloppy kisses followed by tiny nibbles, undeniably revving you up but also making the pout on your face that much more noticeable.

“You’re sexy even when you’re mad,” He almost slurred, closing the gap between you and his indescribably proficient tongue. Hot breath fanning over what you could only imagine was your glistening pussy. Ready for him to enjoy. Fuck.

“You are a fucking drug. A sweet, delicious drug that'll be the death of me.”

Daniel hummed before flattening his tongue against you, loving eyes locked on yours before your head tilted back, throat barely squeaking out a moan. He lapped and lapped and lapped away at you, paying close attention to the way you curled up when the tip of his nose slipped over your clit, your moan changing in pitch. He was always in heaven devouring you like this, until he was somewhat satisfied. He wasn’t selfish and he knew what you wanted, even if he could’ve stayed like that until the sun came up. Feasting.

“Daniel, please.”

“Full naming me when I just wanna make you feel good is mean, baby.”

Daniel was playing. And you were teasing. He loved hearing you moan his whole name – his mind reeling back to the time you screamed out his full name as you came, subsequently rushing him to his own finish line. Exploding.

“I wanna cum around your cock. That’s all I want,” You sighed and finally opened your eyes, clutching and admiring at the sprinkling of chest hair. Daniel was drunk, but not drunk enough to not realise how lucky he was to have you spread out beneath him, pleading for him to fuck you into another dimension.

“Your wish is my… demand? Command? Your wish is my something,” Daniel couldn’t quite find the saying in the midst of his excitement, and you couldn't hold back the fit of laughter as you threw your head into the pillows.

“Smooth, Ricciardo,” You giggled as you felt his slick tip teasing your hole, fists clenched beside your head and a smirk the size of the equator on his face.

“Well how does it go then, smarty pants?” Daniel nodded his head and gently sank into you, revelling in the feeling of you engulfing every inch he had to give while he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head, waiting for your answer.

“I –” You stammered, adjusting and sucking in a sharp breath, “I have no… No idea, and I don’t… fucking care.”

Daniel chuckled as his wispy curls fell into his eyes, watching you lick your lips and gather yourself. You were blurry in his vision, the alcohol now really pumping through his veins as he gripped your hips in his large hands, palms perspiring and brows following suit. Your fingertips trailed from his chest down to his pelvis, skin hot to the touch and tattoos glistening from sheen of sweat covering his perfect body.

“Fuck me just like that… Oh my god.” You snapped open your lust filled eyes – blazing flames erupting in Daniel’s as they caught yours.

“Feels fuckin’ good, ey.”

It was a rhetorical question but you nodded anyway.

Daniel was huffing and puffing as your lips tried to find his, hands cradling his slacked jaw. Drunken sloppy sex was one of your favourite genres and it’d been a hot minute since you’d found yourselves with the taste of red wine still lingering on your tongues, fucking like animals. He was thrusting hard until he noticed your hand crawl down to where your bodies met, the delicate touch slowing his movements and capturing his undivided attention.

“Oi,” Daniel breathed and sat back on his knees, still warming in your tight pussy. Your eyebrows quirked with intrigue and a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as he grabbed your hand and guided it up to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. Fanning the flames deep inside.

His tongue swiped across your soft fingertips, making sure each one was dripping wet with spit before sliding them back down between your trembling thighs, “Bet that feels better, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. Much better,” You managed to moan out as he wrapped his arm around your lower back and angled your hips up to his cock, watching himself slowly slide in and out while you circled your clit, edging yourself closer with every touch.

Daniel picking up the pace meant he wasn’t far from his high, the tell tale signs were consistent and always a dead giveaway. The flush of red creeping up his neck and veins bulging under his taut skin was the first sign. Filthy words whispered into your ear was the second and grunts vibrating in his chest as his focus was pulled to you and only you were one of the final ones before he couldn’t hold on any longer.

But he never left you high and dry. Not in a million fucking years.

"Right fucking there, Danny!" You shouted, oblivious to your screams almost certainly alerting the neighbouring room. Even if you were conscious of the volume of your voice, you couldn’t have cared less. Your man was putting on a show and you’d be damned if you didn’t make sure he knew how good he was giving it to you.

"I'm right there..."

"Cum all over my cock, beautiful."

You squealed into the pillow you’d been gripping, scrunching your nose at how fucking good he felt filling you to the brim. Daniel eased your thrashing body through the shockwaves, making sure you felt every last writhe of pleasure – every nerve set alight by the fire burning in your stomach as that perfectly tied knot quickly unravelled. He was holding on for dear life, cursing how tight you felt coming around his aching cock.

"I need to see your face, baby. Look at me." 

Daniel’s raspy voice snapped you back to reality as your hips rocked violently against his. That and your blown-out pupils boring into his was enough to send him tumbling over the edge, unloading everything he had and more.

Daniel clutched your shuddering thighs with his searing fingertips as he bucked one, two, three times and placed one of his shaky palms against the hotel wall, trying to catch his breath as he filled you up. Your eyes were lazily shut, slowly regaining some semblance of consciousness and clawing at the skin on Daniel’s abdomen – attempting to soothe him through his high. Selfishly, you were too caught up in your own that you’d forgotten he was even still there. You'd make up for that later.

For now, you were in bliss. Laboured breathing filled the comfortable silence as you searched for one another, floating back down to the real world.

"Come back to me," Daniel teased quietly as a sly grin swept across your face, eyes closed and skin still tingling from his hot touch. He fell beside you and rolled off the bed in search of something, anything to clean up the mess you’d made together.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," You whispered back, earning a hoarse chuckle in return. Daniel looked like a mirage on a hot summers day when you opened your eyes and watched him exit the en suite, tissue box in hand.

"What a review."

Proudly boasting after sex was a regular occurrence with Daniel and you loved it; encouraged it even. He chucked the tissue away and practically tripped back into bed, still tipsy and feeling the full effects now that he wasn't under your intoxicating spell. At least for now, anyway.

He flicked off the lamp and sent the room into complete darkness before you felt his warm arm snaking around your naked waist, pulling you into his pounding chest. You were exhausted and almost numb from the long night but satisfied above all else. Thirst well and truly quenched.

You could always rely on Danny for that.

click for more of my writing if you're interested.

[doobea]

BORN TO MAKE HISTORY ─ RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST. | MASTERLIST

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around, inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, rin being awkward, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric word count: 5.1K a/n: life has been super busy and hectic recently :( kisses to @popponn for beta reading my works as always <3 im forever grateful for you :) more notes towards the end of the fic <3

PREV. RINK | NEXT RINK

“What should we wear?” You’re pacing across the living room, hand tucked under your chin and brows furrowed. 

Sae’s leaning to the side on the couch, trying to get a decent view of yesterday’s playback practice run on the rink every time you cross his line of vision. Rin’s also trying to pay attention to the jumps and step sequences too but, whenever his parts are about to come up, you seem to pause in front of the TV.

“I dunno, ask Rin,” Sae shrugs and turns up the volume, hoping that you would catch the hint. 

It doesn’t matter though, because you’re shuffling in place and now your attention is honed on your phone, scrolling rapidly through what Rin can only assume are images of various costume designs. He’s seen a few of your professional photos from the previous years during his recent down time, a lot of the designs highlighted your feminine side with bright colors and pastels. It suits you, no surprise there, considering your outgoing personality. Rin, on the other hand, likes to keep it moody and, as his fans would like to call it, “Dark Paradise” core — whatever that means.

Well, it wouldn’t really matter if you did happen to ask for his opinion because, recently, Rin didn’t give two shits about what he wears. If anyone were to peek into his closet, which they would definitely need to fight through him first, they would discover an array of all different shades of black and blue in their deepest forms. Oh, and all he owns is athleisure attire, too. Rin doesn’t bother with all things fancy and tailored ever since going on break, though he has a creeping feeling that he might have to go back to it soon.

“As long as it’s not flashy, I’m fine with whatever.” Rin answers finally, and closes his eyes as he says it, realizing that he’ll either look incredibly out of place with whatever costume idea you’ll have in mind. He can’t quite place why he feels so stressed about it. 

“Whatever?” You chirp back with a slight tilt. Rin can almost see the gears turning desperately in your head as your foot taps away in deep thought. “Have we even decided on a theme yet?”

“Considering we literally just started practicing? No.” Rin huffs out. He tips his head, letting his cheek settle comfortably against his palm. 

Safe to say, his thighs and feet hurt like hell, laced with heavy exhaustion from yesterday’s session. He probably needs more sleep in more but, with both you and Sae knocking on his bedroom door this morning, he firmly decided in his mind to sneak away after today’s practice to catch up on some hours.

“Your jumps are sloppy,” Sae points out casually. 

Rin rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” his brother shoots back before replaying the same damn sequence where Rin nearly loses his footing. The video is now playing in slow motion and zoomed in, painfully reminding Rin that he needs to upgrade his skincare routine. Somehow, he’s glad that you’re still covering half of the TV screen, unaware of the near wipe out scene from behind. 

A few seconds later and Sae speaks again. “You look stiff here, bend your knees and loosen your arms.” 

Rin sighs. “ ‘Kay…” 

“We’re still going for ‘love’, right? Or are we not doing that?” Your arms are crossed, fingers drumming away, still deep in thought and tuned out from their own conversation. “What songs do you wanna skate to?” 

Before Rin could even provide a half-assed answer to that, Sae interrupts his thoughts with, “Please try and at least look like you’re having fun.”

“…noted,” Rin decides with a sigh. “I’m going back to bed when this is over.” Screw napping after practice, he barely got a full eight hours last night and being berated so bright and early in the morning killed any sort of energy he had prior.

“Nope,” Sae pauses halfway through the video, turning to face him with a stern look. “You’re not going back to bed, because then you won’t wake up in time for practice. Sleeping in will only ruin your current sleep schedule, too.”

Rin wants to retort that he’s not a fucking child anymore, that he doesn’t need Sae to be looking after him. However, there’s the fact that his brother is sorta his manager now and in charge of quite literally everything of Rin's career. Also, it’s kinda hard to come up with a solid comeback when they’re reviewing his rusty movements, lackluster jumps, and every thirty seconds he’s taking a small break to catch his damn breath. 

You eventually plop down in the middle of the couch, between both brothers, when you realize that your question isn’t going to be answered simply. After Sae finally gets the chance to thoroughly watch a good chunk of yesterday’s practice sequence, you switch topics. “Just so you know, Rin, have you seen your comment section lately?”

Sae shuffles in his seat and suddenly Rin feels the air in the room thickening. Rin fiddles with his phone in hand, knowing full well that he did post a ‘comeback’ announcement only to then quickly turn his app notifications off, because… of his feelings of self cautiousness? Would that be the right term he’s looking for?

“What did he do?” Sae’s asking you because he knows damn well Rin wouldn’t give him the full details and you’re just so damn open about everything so Rin can’t possibly hide from this one.

But, instead of answering Sae, you cough, loud and awkward, before shooting Rin an apologetic look. “Um, nothing…?”

Alright, well Rin takes it that you’re a god awful liar. 

Sae’s now staring directly in Rin’s direction and he’s trying so hard to avoid eye contact right now by pretending that their family portrait wall is the most interesting thing in the room. Of course, that doesn’t work because he can hear Sae tapping away freely on his phone and—

“Did you fucking block me on Instagram?”

Okay, yeah, Rin totally forgot about that, too. To be fair, when someone is going through a depressive episode for over a year, the last thing anyone would want to see on their feed is the success of their older sibling.  

“No?”

And, turns out, he’s also an awful liar. 

Sae is not happy. He is very, very unhappy. 

He’s not usually the emotionally expressive type to most people, so that usually leaves Rin the luxury of experiencing the back end when his brother does decide to let his walls down. And, well, in the past, when he did get pissed off, Sae would normally vent about his coaches and stalkerish fans with a bit of sass to it, but today? 

He’s currently grumbling and groaning and Rin’s pretty sure his shirt is on backwards, and bless your soul, but also fuck you, for dragging him into this mess. 

After a very short Google Search of what Rin has done, followed by an equally as short lecture on how to be professional on the internet, Rin is grimley reminded by the large number of likes and retweets on Twitter that his announcement might’ve not been the best thing he’s ever posted. He really can’t understand why though, because Rin was deadset sure he was going to lose his career nearly three years ago when he got into a fight with another skater, so why is he getting canceled for announcing something… tamed? Well, he also hasn’t exactly opened his social media apps since then. A strange gnawing feeling comes up whenever he fights off the urge to check.

“You should’ve held off or at least came to me before posting something like this.”

It’s a miracle that there’s nobody else but you three at the local rink right now. It’s been nearly an hour since arrival and Rin has gotten nothing but an earful from Sae. If any family were to walk in, they’d probably immediately walk out by the sheer amount of heavy tension steaming off on the ice. 

You’re stuck in your own little corner doing all sorts of warm up jumps and stretching, glancing over every now and then at Rin as your way of saying ‘sorry’ and ‘are you doing, okay’. To which, Rin would glance back with a very stiff shrug. 

“What difference would it make?” Rin’s cheeks are a little flushed and there’s a slight hitch to his breath, he had just completed a couple of routine jumps Sae instructed him to do.

“Plenty,” then Sae flashes Rin a quick glimpse of his phone screen. 

An array of outrageous news articles and forums come through, many of them pointing out the strange timing and the internal turmoil of sibling rivalry. There’s a couple of them mentioning drugs, two threads from some third-party news site throwing your name to the mud, and then a short Buzzfeed article listing a slideshow of other skaters congratulating Rin for rejoining the sport again. 

“People are speculating that you’re only stepping in because I’m down for this season. If you would’ve just waited until everything was put together then everything would’ve been different.” 

Rin blinks a little, surprised by the flush coloring his brother's cheeks that’s most certainly not from the cold rink. 

Although, in a way it did make sense. If there’s one thing that famous athletes do know about the media is the fact that news outlets love fabricating drama out of nothing. Sae’s a well known gold medalist, no matter what division that medal came from, so his name came out of people’s mouth as frequently as compared to Yuzuru Hanyu or even Yuuri Katsuki, whenever figure skating was mentioned. It made sense for others to grow suspicious when Rin randomly posted that he’s coming off of hiatus without further explanation. Sae most likely hasn’t told anyone that he’s being subbed in.

Rin hesitantly nods, his snarky response dies in his throat and he feels like he’s swallowing needles when faced with the awkward reality. He’s now reluctant to speak, unsure if anything he’d say would make a difference — for better or worse. Knowing himself, probably the latter. 

After a few seconds of silence, followed by a few jumps performed by you in the background, Sae runs a hand through his hair, in what Rin believes is a rare nervous gesture, looking away briefly. 

“Revival,” his brother finally blurts out. “That’s the theme. You guys fine with that?” Sae’s asking, but there’s a finality to his tone. Rin and you will have to be fine with it. The season starts in a few months, soon Sae would need to prepare choreography for two programs, consult a designer for custom fittings, and take over all things that a coach and manager would do. Somehow, despite being out for this year, Rin thinks Sae might have the hardest job here.

“No objections here.”

Two months and many hours of exhausting training later, you and Rin are standing in the locker room for the first competition as an official pair. It’s the first day of the Japan Figure Skating Championships and, somehow, you look more put together than he is.

“Think this looks good?” You do a 360 spin in front of the wall mirror in your short program outfit. It’s a simple short black, gray dress with mesh sleeves and small rhinestones running down the middle. According to the designer, it’s supposed to represent the night sky. 

Rin stands behind you and adjusts his black vest. Gold and white thread accents throughout his patterned shirt compared with plain black trousers. He’s supposed to adjust his cuffs, but his fingers keep fumbling with the last button because his eyes are awkwardly getting lost in your outfit. Luckily, you’re too focused on yourself to take notice.

You eventually lean closer, repeating the question when he takes too long to answer, and he feels your breath against his shoulder. “Everything alright? Are you nervous for today?” Your voice is a little hesitant, full of concern that makes Rin’s stomach slightly jump to his throat. 

“Everything’s fine,” Rin sighs as he manages to shove the last button through. It’s not like he’s going to lose this competition, he might be somewhat rusty but he didn’t qualify for the Grand Prix Final just based on his name alone. “It’s just… a little bit weird that we’re the oldest ones here,” he confesses. 

“You’re still hung up about that?”

It’s stupid and maybe a bit irrational, he knows that much.

You’ve also already tried to convince Rin otherwise multiple times today, but he couldn’t shake off the humiliating feeling of entering a competition where your competitors are almost half your age. Okay, maybe Rin’s being dramatic, but at least five years younger. From what he can recall, it was usually the other way around whenever he competed in men’s singles tournaments. Having to see and now experience that is something he never really mentally prepared himself for.

From the moment he stepped into the locker room, Rin was basically towering over the rest of the athletes. It’s fine, kinda, all he really needs to focus on right now is landing all of his jumps and catching you. Sae’s a strict teacher, but he doesn’t force weird techniques on others if he knows they can’t handle it. 

“Isn’t he, like, totally washed up right now?”

“Shh, don’t say it so loud, Makoto! He’s right there.”

“Oh, shit, let’s go before he…” Rin didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the sentence, not with you scooting right beside him on the bench and shoving your right ear bud into his ear. 

He’s learned quickly from the following days that you are not the playlist type of person like most people. Unlike normal and sane folks, you have all of your liked songs in one playlist and you like spending your time shuffling away through the vast hundreds of genres and artists until finding the right one. In your own words, if you were to make a playlist then it would easily be over a few dozen — why do that when all of your favorite songs are in one spot? 

That being said, you’re currently blasting a Frank Ocean song before shifting through a couple more songs with the intent of finding both the short program and free skate song. Oh, and for some reason you don’t use the search function at all through your liked playlist. Apparently, it “ruins” the fun. 

“This would’ve been a nice song to skate to,” the tune switches to something more upbeat and indie, Rin recognizes the band to be Florence and the Machine from the vocals alone. “Sae complained about the song being too long and I called him a lazy loser shortly after.” You say with a smile but Rin’s eyes drift down only to see your leg bobbing up and down rapidly.

Rin tries to pay no mind as he continues to put on his skates. “A six minute long performance would be too much,” he agrees with Sae’s previous answer.

“Hey, tickets to these sorts of things are expensive nowadays with scalpers everywhere!” You try to reason. “If someone’s spending two hundred dollars on a seat then they can sit through a six minute long skating sequence.”

Rin rolls his eyes as he fiddles with a tangled lace. “I didn’t mean the people in the audience, I meant the skaters.”

“Well, maybe we should learn a thing or two from people who do Disney on Ice?”

“I do not want that to be my fall back career, thank you.” A shiver creeps down his spine at the thought of being forced to skate while wearing a Mickey Mouse costume of all things. Seriously, do people clean those suits?

“Hey, are you…” both of your ears perk at the sound from behind. Rin turns around first, he’s immediately greeted by one of the younger male competitors. The boy looks like he’s still growing into his body, probably not any older than seventeen.

“Yeah, I am,” Rin finishes the obvious question. Maybe the kid’s a fan by how bright his face lights up soon after. “Is there something you need?” Sae’s been drilling him to be a little bit more receptive to fellow competitors and fans alike, in order to fix some of his reputation. 

“I’ve been looking at your past performances, lately,” the kid starts with a smile. “Last year, during the Grand Prix Final, you did good!”

“Thanks—”

“Your theme was the same as the previous years, but I guess that’s just something you’re comfortable with, right? The falls that you took, it was because your balance was off. You need to work better on finding your center during jumps if you seriously plan on competing in the senior division again.”

Rin only notices the pain digging in his fists when you reach over, palm encasing over his closed ones. You don’t bother looking his way, but you do say something to the kid. It sounds muffled though, or maybe Rin’s somehow zoning out? He’s not sure. 

The loss from the Grand Prix is apparently still at the forefront of his mind, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise. People love to pick out that particular part in his performance, acting as if they could pull it off any better. And, for a brief moment, all his past of anger and frustration at the sport suddenly comes rushing back at an overwhelming rate. Rin’s wondering who else wants to criticize him when they meet him again. 

“Don’t they teach kids manners these days?” You try to shoot a glare back but, from Rin’s perspective, it just looks like you’re mildly constipated. 

It kinda ends up working, because the kid backs off, scurrying away and off to his manager for last minute pep talk. Sae’s currently running late as usual, but it’s not like you two would need any words of encouragement. Rin’s competitive nerves have fizzled out by this point, at least for this event, but he’s now seething with discomfort. He’s certainly positive that you’re feeling the same way. 

“I take it back, some of these kids need to be humbled and maybe even bullied.”

Okay, while Rin would agree, he feels like he has to somewhat step up in Sae’s place to make sure you don’t accidentally get kicked out of this competition for sucker punching a kid.

“It’s fine, don’t get too worked up over it. I more or less expected comments like that.”

Rin never expected anything to come easy. Climbing for his spot again in the competitive world can be absolutely ruthless and meeting skaters who are arrogant, condescending, and taunting are just part of the reality. He suspects that everyone else sees him as a washed up skater, never as a real competitor, or a real challenger for the gold medal.  

“Still,” you pout, unsatisfied by his logical response, but drop the conversation as Rin tightens his laces. Then, you finally manage to find the song for the short program section after the relentless shuffling.

“It’s fine,” he reassures, and really, it’s kinda-sorta fine. It’s something that he’ll eventually get used to, even if he’s well aware of the heinous rumors floating around. Everything will die down after a week or two since most people can barely hold their attention span nowadays. 

“If you’re positive,” you go back to your phone, but not before poking Rin’s sides and redirecting his attention towards the TV screen in the locker room. “Hey, the first pair is competing.”

Pair skating is a lot different from competing in singles. Aside from the obvious involvement of another party, there are more requirements in the short and free skate performances. In the Adult Singles programs, the skater focuses more on their jumps, having a higher emphasis on how many quads they can shove in — or at least that’s how Rin used to work. Quads granted him the majority of the points, it’s something that he can take some pride in compared to his other juniors and seniors. 

For pairs, instead of focusing on jumps in the sequences, it’s lifts. There’s two types of lifts, overhead and twists, both are required in the programs. In general, overhead lifts rely on the movement of the person in the air, the control and execution of their rotations around the person carrying them. For twists, the most “exciting” part of the performance by judges’ words, requires an insane amount of coordination and strength since Rin has to propel you into the air by the waist.

Sae had the lovely idea to throw in three overhead lifts, just because he thinks Rin can handle it. Those evening practices at the rink, followed by early morning lifting sessions absolutely killed him, both physically and spiritually. Though, safe to say that he’s just about near his physical peak last year from all the training. 

You and Rin both waited patiently in the locker rooms for the first three pair performances, only leaving and heading by the outer rink when you guys queued next. Sae leans against the railing, the brace on his foot now gone and, instead of chunky sneakers, he’s opted back to his expensive loafers. Maybe that’s why he ran late, just in case paparazzi took snapshots of his entire outfit. Go figure.

“I think you guys will have no issue securing gold.” Sae’s voice comes through the haze of Rin’s thoughts, sounding distinctly unimpressed by the current line up. “Even if you guys fumble your lifts, I think the amount of it will carry enough points.”

Erupted cheers soon fill the air and all eyes turn to the rink as the pair’s performance ends. You soon recognize one of the skaters being the teenager from earlier and throw Rin a look. 

“We’re going to make sure that he doesn’t get a chance at winning until next year.” You announce, tone casual but eyes flickering something darker than what Rin’s used to.

Sae scoffs and leans against the railing, holding Rin’s Winnie the Pooh tissue box in his arms. “I’m assuming the locker room talk wasn’t all too friendly?”

“Maybe not your usual idea of friendly,” and Rin surges forward, taking your hands into his, when the pair in question struts by and casts both of you a nasty glare. Your grip around his bicep tightens and, while he didn’t care too much about beating a bunch of lukewarm competitors earlier, Rin’s fully certain that he wants nothing more than that gold medal and to clear both of your names from accusations right now. 

Piano sounds ring throughout the arena from the speakers, starting with a single word that you’ve both heard countless times during practice. The soft piano notes quickly turn into a somber melody, growing louder with every passing second. The music is beautiful. Haunting, even. Capturing the audience in a trance while Rin prepares you for your first lift.

It’s strange, he thinks. While he’s gotten used to handling you, this is different from every other time. During practices, you’re always carefree and cheerful but, out here, surrounded by cameras and opinions of others that don’t weigh a thing, you’re focused and extremely precise in your form. 

Rin thought he knew your routine. Clearly, he’s mistaken. 

You skate with conviction, confidence, and accuracy. He can understand why you were originally Sae’s skating partner. 

Once you’ve landed back on the ice, keeping up with Rin’s speed, the two of you follow the song’s beat with a smooth series of spins and jumps, each one rotating faster and faster until it feels like the mere audience is just a blurry backdrop in the foreground. 

The final lift jump transitions easily into a simple step sequence before finally ending in a death spiral. Rin has a firm grip on your hand as you begin flattening your body low enough, face barely grazing the ice below, as he pivots you around in lull circles. 

Judging from the sounds from the audience, Rin didn’t need to stay around to know the results of the performance. The roars, chants, and the standing ovation from them is enough to make out the outcome but, for your sake, he’ll stick it through.

You both glide through the last few seconds of the short program, focusing on nothing but the music and remaining movements. Finally, the music notes fade out and the two of you come to a rest in the middle of the rink, the final position has Rin tipping your body backwards with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, as if you both were reaching for something just out of your grasp. 

Thunderous roars ring in his flushed ears and you’re shooting him a look, eyes glassy and lips parting, possibly saying some sort of praise, but Rin can’t seem to focus. He’s too lost in thought, too distracted by the tenderness of the performance, the flashing lights, the way your chest is heaving in rapid waves, and didn’t realize he had been holding in his breath until you pulled him into a tight embrace.

Everything is just about perfect. Every jump, lift, and spin. He can already imagine the gold medal around his neck, and the thought of winning gold at the Grand Prix only makes the rest of his blood course through his veins faster.

Being a professional athlete again is… exhausting. 

Rin spends the following day in back to back conferences and being introduced to people. Most of them end up being unremarkable and forgettable. A couple of them are rude and eccentric, with one guy in particular honing down Rin in a corner and bombarding him with questions both surrounding his performance last year and his personal life. You and Sae had to step in to diffuse the situation before Rin blew a hole in his career again. 

By the end of the night, Rin debates whether he should switch careers because this shit is absolutely not for him. It’s no surprise to anyone that Rin hates being around people and this night he’s probably escaped to the restroom maybe about five times to catch a breather. And, while Rin is not the type to exactly care about his image, he absolutely does a full body inspection in the full body mirror every time before he steps back out. Each time he revisits a new wrinkle line forms.

And his brother hasn’t told him when it’ll be over.

Rin’s hands twitch after another self-proclaimed journalist finishes up a half-ass interview about his latest goals for this year. He pulls out his phone when they suggest giving out their contact information and Rin just zones out, tapping away gibberish in his notes app and nodding until they finally went away. 

He feels like he’s going to vomit and pass out if this goes on any longer.

“You look like you’re about to freak out,” and of course, you have the decency to point that out as he’s made the fruit salad section his little hideaway spot. Turns out people really dislike any sort of fruit dishes at these fancy events. 

“I’m not,” Rin muffles back, mouth stuffed with various chunks of honeydew and grapes. Even if it is true, he’ll never admit it, but it also does suck that he's stupidly easy to read. “The food just sucks here, that’s all.” The fruit isn’t that bad. Maybe just the strawberries. 

“Whatever you say, partner,” you roll your eyes playfully, almost giggling at the nickname before taking a sip from the glass of champagne in your hands. “If you want, we can sneak out of here and explore the city.” It’s a suggestion but, from the way you’re smiling, Rin picks up that he can’t wiggle his way out of it. 

But he tries anyway.

“Do you even know your way around?” He sounds vaguely concerned. 

Sure, it’s been approximately two months since you’ve crashed and turned his life a complete 180, but you’re still new to the area and very much new to the country. Rin’s heard you picked up basic phrases from his brother to get around but it’s still nearly not enough to go and explore, especially late at night. And, rightfully so, he doesn’t plan on babysitting while you waltz around half tipsy off your mind after winning first place.

You fake a wound over your chest and gasp, hiccuping soon after. “I have maps on my phone! I already pinned and favorited a bunch of cute stores we can check out.”

Rin doesn’t know why you even bother throwing him into the equation considering it’ll clearly be stores you’ll like. 

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Sae’s sauntering over, a half empty glass of wine in hand, and his movement is a little sluggish, but he’s probably the only few sobered up person in the room aside from Rin. 

“Out,” you reply with a casual shrug, as if Sae’s supposed to be satisfied with the answer. 

“Out...” Sae echos before flickering his sudden sharp gaze over to Rin. He feels himself straightening up before he realizes. “You guys still have to make your statements to the press, you know that, right?”

“Can’t we do it after we get back?” You quickly dismiss Sae’s annoyed scrunch with a quick waft of a hand. 

Rin really doesn’t want to stand in front of a bunch of drunken and overly zealous journalists right now if he doesn’t have to. The idea of visiting a few late night street vendors might just be his highlight for today. 

“Hey,” Sae’s agitated voice snaps him out of his daze. “Are you seriously going out?” 

Instead of providing his brother a proper answer, Rin takes a hold of your hands and throws his jacket over your bare shoulders. You were complaining earlier about losing yours, and the last thing he wants is a drunk and cold skating partner in the middle of the streets of Nagano.

2024 — NAGANO: JAPAN FIGURE SKATING CHAMPIONSHIPS

Posted 16 hours ago 278,293 views

Comments 543

[niCOnii] - 10 hours ago All these rin haters from earlier can eat my socks because i knew he would comeback!!! his partner ain’t half bad either tbh View 30 replies [klnen2003] - 9 hours ago GO TO THE VIDEO AT 4:45 and see how Rin looks at Y/N!!! There’s definitely something there, right??? View 12 replies [YOICHISAGI OFFICIAL] - 9 hours ago Can’t wait to see Rin Itoshi and Y/N L/N compete at the Grand Prix this year!! Let’s catch up sometime! View 154 replies [jiroMark8734] - 8 hours ago I dunno… isn’t it weird how they swept everyone else tho? Can’t tell me that they’re both not taking anything lmao [my_skates_my_life] - 7 hours ago Congrats to everyone for winning!! And thank you so much for posting this. LOVE FROM ARGENTINA!! [merhaba234] - 7 hours ago Rin’s always doing the same level type program both in technique and artistic. It’s refreshing to see something new!

TAGLIST - OPEN

@anurst @blissblossom @genneii @wooasecret @chaosinanutshell @kaiserkisser @rroxii @takotakigum @jaynawayna @peachesncats @sseishiross @izumi-astra-123 @sereniteav @pokkomi

a/n: im crawling on the ground,,, if anyone knows me: i love making rin suffer but please know its in a loving way. is his brother hotter? yeah. but does his brother have a sad backstory? yeah probably. either way, i love working w men with sibling complexes and his whole design basically oozes with melodrama. rin!!! you are gonna be in it for a surprise next chapter!! also apologies for the late update everyone hehe i dont have a set schedule for everything ;-; and my mind runs either at 500 miles an hour or 0 miles. as of late, life has gotten in the way of things and maybe i do need to stick with some sort of plan to make myself ... less stressed when creating content :> anyways, i love you guys!!

[chellestrash]

Birthday Girl

Mikey Berzatto x Female Reader 

Summary: You show up at The Beef on your birthday, a bit earlier than Mikey was expecting you. But that's alright, you'll still get your birthday gift, dont you worry.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, teasing, praises, pet names

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Hi hellooo! So, this is a late birthday gift for my sweet @chelseasdagger because I know how hard she fell for Mikey, especially with how he looks in season 2? The beard?! I mean we all love it right? Thank you @suitsofwo3 for proofreading this mess and I hope those of you who choose to read it will enjoy it. This is my first time writing for Mikey so I hope I did him justice but if I didn't...dont tell me, thank you. 

@chelseasdagger Pea I hope you’ll like this, this is all written with you in mind, and I know we talked about a lot of different ideas for birthday fics over the year and this is I guess a bit different but I hope its still okay. I love you, happy birthday!

You straighten up the dress one last time and clear your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos that's about to ensue the moment you step through the door of the Berzatto restaurant. You loved The Beef, of course you did. You enjoyed most of the time you chose to spend helping around the sandwich shop, but you also knew how overwhelming it could get.

Pushing the designated staff door on the back of the building, you step inside.

“CORNER!”

You jump at the sound and smile at Richie, waving your hand as he sets down the tray of dirty dishes and makes his way over to you the moment he notices your presence.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He starts, his arms spread open and a big, welcoming smile on his face as he looks you up and down quickly, nodding his head in approval. You can't help but smile, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“Thanks Richie! I look okay?” You ask, after he hugs you tightly, quickly getting rid of the jacket to fully present your outfit.

“Well, I'd say, fucking great actually, not okay. Okay is not…” He steps back, gesturing over your body, and you shake your head slightly amused, waiting for him to finish the thought.

“Okay is not…doesn’t do it justice, actually.”

You let out a chuckle, rolling your eyes at the compliment.

“What doesn’t do what justice?" Marcus pops his head in from around the corner, and you watch how his face lights up the second his eyes are on yours.

“Oh shit, look who it is!”

“I said that already.” Ritchie points out, and both you and Marcus breathe out a soft laugh.

“Good to see you.”

You step further into the restaurant, meeting him halfway, before he pulls you into a big hug. Brushing his hand over your back, he holds you there for a little longer before finally letting go.

“Happy birthday, that was a special birthday hug.” He announces, and you nod with an impressed expression.

“Yeah?”

Marcus agrees, doing his best to look completely serious before you ask.

“What makes it special?"

Your eyebrows pull together as you watch him attempt to come up with some serious explanation before he shakes his head.

“Can't tell you.”

“And why is that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You blink, not knowing what answer you were expecting, but it obviously wasn’t anything along those lines. He winks, a big smile on his face as you both step into the kitchen now and you’re left with no other choice than to just accept the explanation.

You walk past the stoves, careful not to disturb the somehow chaotic but still functional ecosystem the Berzatto brothers managed to create within the restaurant.

“Behind.” You rest your hand on Tina's shoulder, and she turns around quickly, her whole face lighting up, her arms almost immediately wrapping around you as she pulls you into a hug.

“Ayyy my Love, happy birthday!” She cups your face, kissing your cheek before letting go.

“Thank you, Tina, thank you.” You hug her back, and she nods, the smile never leaving her face.

“How are you, how's the birthday girl, huh?” She asks, glancing over your outfit, clearly impressed.

No one here has ever really seen you dressing up like this. Today was…a bit of a special occasion.

"Weird. Tina, Richie, gave me a compliment. Richie! You believe that?"

“Ey!”

You hear the man's voice from the other side of the kitchen, and both you and Tina turn in the direction of the sound.

“I'm being nice!”

“I know!” You shout back, ducking under Ebra's arm when he walks past you. Smiling from eye to eye once he notices you, the man stops for a moment.

“Beautiful.”

“This?”

He nods, showing you he means the dress and the way you look in it.

“Beautiful.”

You nod with a smile, thanking him for the compliment, before he quickly wishes you a happy birthday as well.

Walking around the restaurant, you quickly greet everyone working today. Passing by Sugar and Syd you stop to talk to them for a little bit and they both give you their best wishes and compliments on your outfit as well. Stepping away after a moment, you look around the place with an intention of eventually finding your boyfriend out there but bumping into the rest of the crew you’re unable to complete your mission.

Fak, in a typical Fak fashion, stands in front of you with his mouth wide open the second he sees you, clearly impressed by your chosen look for this special evening.

“Oh my god, you look so pretty!”

You feel your cheeks heating up, not even trying to hide the way the compliments got to you any longer.

“You think so?”

Twirling slightly, you show off the way the dress moves with your body, the silky, soft fabric contrasting with the harsh, industrial interior of the restaurant kitchen. You feel out of place but at the same time, somehow they all make you feel like you’ve never fit in better anywhere else.

“Yeah, you look like a freaking princess!” He continues, walking around you in a circle before turning to face the rest of the crew. “You guys seen this?”

They all nod, smiling and glancing in your direction, and you feel so thankful for all of them in that moment.

“Seen what?” You hear the familiar voice behind you and quickly turn around to face Carmy. Stepping into the restaurant, most likely after a smoke break, he sees you for the first time that day.

“Hey!” You smile.

“Heyyy, yo…you look great, holy shit!”

Pushing his hand through the mess of blond curls, he scratches the top of his head, quickly glancing up and down your body before shaking his head softly.

“Sorry, happy birthday.”

You both smile as he pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Thank you bear.” You mumble quietly, your hand rubbing up and down his back a couple of times before letting go.

“Course! You need anything?" Carmy asks after you two step away from each other.

“Mikey.”

“Oh right, yeah. Office.” He points in the direction of the small room right by the “employees area” and you nod, thankful for the help.

“Thanks.”

You turn back and wave at the few people still looking at you before crossing the hall in a couple of quick steps.

You push the door open and step inside the small, mostly dark room. It's messy, very busy and there's hardly any rhyme or reason to the way the space is ‘organized.’ It screams ‘Mikey’.

You watch the older Berzatto brother while he talks on the phone for another moment, before turning to face you at the sound of the door closing behind you. You wave, not saying anything as you do not wish to interrupt any, possibly, important business. A quiet laugh still slips past your lips, when you watch his eyes open wide at the sight of you.

You gesture over the dress, pushing your hip out to the side before posing. Mikey sinks his teeth into his lower lip, nodding his head to the quiet words on the phone as if the person could somehow see him.

“Hey, I'm gonna have to call you back, man.” He finally speaks up, and you glare at him with a confused expression.

“What? Yeah, emergency.” He lies before hanging up and quickly throwing his phone onto the desk.

“Holy…shit.”

The way his eyes shine when he looks at you makes you feel like your insides are doing jumping jacks. You try your best to remain looking completely unphased but the way his eyes skim over the dress, the way his expression softens and his body slumps slightly, simply just from seeing you there, makes your knees weak.

“Holly Fucking SHIT!” He looks away but quickly turns back to you, squinting his eyes with his head tilted to the side, he attempts to take in the whole picture one more time.

“You like it? Looks good?” You ask, your cheeks aching from the constant smiling, as you feel, possibly, the best you’ve felt all day.

“Good?!” Mikey almost shouts, offended that you'd even try to use such an underwhelming word to describe yourself.

“You fucking-” He starts, taking a step in your direction before you push your leg out, the dress lifting up your leg slight, and he lets out a whine and a grunt before kneeling on the floor right in front of you.

“Oh Mikey come-” You try to stop him, but he doesn't move.

“Holy fuck baby what-you're tryna kill me here i-” He asks, hands already reaching up, longing for the feel of your body against his palms.

You feel yourself getting warmer, the excitement making your heart pound harder in your chest when you glance down to see your boyfriend, Mikey Berzatto, on his knees for you.

“Can I touch you, babygirl? Hmm?” He asks, and you nod, somehow managing to keep your cool and not completely lose it over the way he acts when it comes to you.

“Oh fuck, yeah? Can I touch you here?” His rummbly voice rings out in your head when you feel his fingers brushing the sides of your hips over the fabric of the dress.

“That okay?”

You nod quickly, quicker than you'd like, quicker than a completely composed and not freaking out at the moment person would do.

He hums quietly, tracing over your body for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. Tilting his head up, he stares at you in silence for a couple seconds before speaking again.

“Don’t think I can do it.”

“Don’t think you can do what Mikey bear?” You ask, pushing your hand through the thick dark hair, and you watch him hum quietly after he leans into your touch.

“Don’t think I can wait…till after dinner.”

You pause, pulling your hand away, and fight back the smile when he looks up at you, completely serious.

“Mikey.” You start, but he continues.

“You look too fucking good baby, how the fuck do you expect me to keep it together for another.-" He glances back at the small, long broken clock on the wall of the small office before turning his face back to you. “Couple hours."

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, and he wraps his arms around the top of your legs, right under your ass. Pulling you closer, he rests his head against your lower stomach, following the action up with a theatrical sigh.

“It's too good.”

“I mean you told me it's a fancy dinner Mikey, you shot yourself in the foot.” You talk back, and he thinks it over for a moment, ultimately deciding that you're probably right.

“Yeah well…" He mumbles under his breath, pushing his face against your body again, he leaves a kiss right between your legs through the soft fabric of the dress.

“Fuck baby.”

You feel his hands again, feel how they slowly travel lower and lower down your body, his fingers tug at the hem on the bottom of the dress before you feel his touch on your skin. Brushing his fingers up and down your skin, Mikey keeps his head up, watching your face for ques and indications, a confirmation that this isn't something only he wanted.

You agree, encouraging him with a small nod and a quiet hum, the gentle feeling of his fingertips on your skin makes your body relax, and you take a deep breath in, closing your eyes for a moment before leaning back on the door.

The sensation of the soft silky fabric grazing over your skin as Mikey pulls it higher up your body makes your hips inch forward. Pulling the dress the few last inches up, he stops suddenly.

“Shit.” He whispers, his warm breath glides over your skin, and you glance down to check on him.

“Hey baby? Remind me please…is it your birthday or mine?”

The question caches you off guard, and you bunch up the dress, looking down at him slightly confused.

His eyes are fixed on the cute pair of panties you chose to wear, they were new, he hadn't seen them yet, it was going to be a surprise…later.

He pulls the fabric a couple inches away from your body before suddenly letting go, the waistband snaps back in place, and he looks up at you with a sly smirk.

“Lucky me, huh?” He teases, and you feel your legs pushing together, the way he was able to turn this whole thing around, to get you wet in a matter of seconds was basically like a special skill of his.

Mikey ducks his head under the fabric of your dress and after a moment you feel his warm kisses press against the skin right above the waistband of your underwear.

A gasp slips past your lips when his fingers hook over the hem, and you reach to lock the door behind you.

Both of you knowing what's about to happen.

"Mikey.” Your attempt is unsuccessful, and he chuckles, seeing your efforts after popping his head from under the dress.

“Yeah no that doesn't—it's busted baby, can't do shit about it now, you'll have to be quiet. Think you can do that?”

You nod, eagerly waiting to feel him on you.

“Yeah? That’s my girl.” He smirks, holding you a little tighter before he ducks his head under the fabric again.

You feel his lips on your skin again, the kisses travel from your lower tummy, over your panties and down to your thighs. The familiar warmth between your legs feels almost burning hot when you feel his fingers brush over the fabric in the most sensitive spot.

He has your full attention, all your senses focus on him to the point where your brain tunes out your surroundings. The small room feels darker now, somehow more secluded, the background

noise of the busy restaurant disappearing almost completely as you let your body relax into your boyfriend’s touch.

Mikey slowly gets rid of the cute pair of panties, pulling the fabric down your legs, following with a trail of small kisses before finally letting go, allowing them to fall to your ankles.

A quiet moan slips past your lips when he pushes your legs open slightly, his face so close to your core now, his warm breath feeling almost electric on your skin.

Mikey works around you for a moment, his tongue following the path his lips create with the kisses over your pussy, on your highs and right under your tummy. You feel his fingers digging deeper into your thighs and ass before he finally pulls you even closer. And with a satisfied hum, he pushes his tongue against you.

You whine quietly, and he breathes out a little laugh, continuing to work you over and over again while you pull the skirt up and off of his head, so you can bury your fingers in his hair again. Your hips buck forward, working as a cue for him to keep going. Your head falls back, and you bite your lip in order to somehow attempt to keep quiet like he instructed you. The sweet combination of licks, kisses and Mikey sucking your clit into his mouth making it almost impossibly difficult, and some part of you keeps telling you Michael Berzatto was fully aware of what he was doing.

“Mmmm-mikey-“ You start. Feeling your body slowly giving into the pleasure, despite you trying to last longer.

“Mmmhh” He hums gently against you, the rumbly sensation causing another moan to slip past your lips. Mikey knew what he was doing, he knew you, he knew your body and most importantly, he knew what you liked, he knew how to make you feel good. You’ve explained it to him before, and he proved to be a great listener.

With your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking against it repeatedly, Mikey looks up at you, watching the expressions on your face change, your body move as you start to feel yourself getting closer.

Your breathing shallows and you can feel your heart pounding faster now that he’s gotten you to this point.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping his dark hair tighter when you feel your body twitch at the feeling.

“Yeah?” Mikey pulls away finally, his beard wet from you, shining in the dim light of the desk lamp, the only source of light in the small room at this moment. His fingers fill in for his mouth as he continues to work over your center as he talks.

“Yeah? You want it, baby?”

You nod, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip when he pushes his palm harder against you. Rocking your hips back and forth you add onto the feeling and when the heel of his palm hits your clit you whine out, louder than you would’ve liked.

“Shit, you sound so pretty baby, you know that.” He praises, not trying to tease you in any way anymore, clearly wanting this as much as you do. Your little sounds of pleasure making his jeans feel so incredibly tight, he could swear he feels himself getting lightheaded.

“You wanna feel me, baby?” He asks, slipping one finger inside you, but you both already know the answer.

Nodding energetically, you feel yourself clenched around his two fingers.

“Oh fuck, you're so perfect.” He mumbles, his voice almost breaking when he realizes if you keep this up, he most likely won't last much longer.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you need.”

Unable to fight your own body, you lower yourself on his fingers, the wet sound filling the room for a second before you somehow manage to speak.

“I want to feel your-, Mikey, I need-”

The whine bounces around inside his head when he slips his two fingers out of you. He stands up quickly, his hand on the side of your face as he tilts your chin up and his lips press against yours.

Led by him, you stumble towards the desk, not wanting to break the kiss, you lick over his lips, tasting yourself on him for a second before he spins you around.

“This what you want? Hm?” He asks, already bunching up the fabric of the dress, and you buck your ass into the bulge in his jeans as a response.

“Fuck.” He grunts, gripping onto the edge of the desk to hold himself back for a second. “Fuck, that’s my girl, so fucking perfect.”

The repeated praise makes you feel lightheaded, you can barely hear him unbuckle the belt and pull the jeans down before pulling himself out of his boxers.

You look over your shoulder watching him work over his length a couple of times and reach back to do it for him. He grabs your hand, moving it back to the desk before holding both of your wrists above your head while you bend over the wooden counter in front of him.

“No, baby, today is about you. Got it?”

You nod, feeling the tip of his cock tease your entrance.

“Good girl, hold tight.”

You do, you grip the edge of the desk, digging your nails into the wood just as hard as Mikey's fingers dig into your thighs.

The table moves with the first thrust, and you feel your mouth falling open when you feel your body push forward on the wooden counter.

“Oh fuck” You whimper and feel his hand immediately on yours.

“I'm here, I'm here baby, good job.” He praises again, and you grip his hand tighter, feeling his hips begging to rock back and forth, his cock moving inside you. The pace is steady but slow for the first moment, and it doesn't take you long to adjust yourself properly to his size. He speeds up only after your little whines, when he knows it's your way of asking for more.

“That’s it baby.”

He continues to guide you, holding onto your hand, pushing inside you deeper and faster now. Your eyes begin to water and your legs push together, your body's way of telling you it's almost time. You hum, attempting to let your boyfriend know, and he reassures you.

“I know, I know, I can feel it.”

He speeds up the pace one last time, grabbing onto your hips tighter in order to help you move back and forth on his cock, just to make the feeling a bit more intense.

Your lips part and you pant loudly, hearing the pounding of your heart in your head and feeling it against the wooded desk under your chest.

Unable to fight back the sounds anymore, you whine and moan loud enough for him to hear them over his own grunts. Feeling your body tensing up, you cry out his name and when he slips his free hand between your bodies to touch you, your body tenses up one more time before relaxing completely after you come undone around him.

He makes sure you ride out the orgasm, that, or he just can't really stop himself at this point, trying to follow closely after you. With a loud grunt and a couple of swear words, he pushes deep one more time before coming inside you. The thick, warm liquid fills you up just how you like it, and you push your hips back one more time when he attempts to pull himself out.

“Woah, easy.” He laughs, his hand on your ass now as he holds you in place before taking a step back. You feel the cum leak out, dripping down your leg for a moment before he finally speaks again.

“I can't fucking look at that, or we'll have to go again.”

You laugh, still attempting to catch your breath before pushing yourself off the desk. Mikey steps closer, offering you his arm to hold onto as you try to stand up straight, while he lets the fabric of the dress fall back into place. His own clothes already pulled back up, looking somewhat presentable.

“What if…,” You start watching him grab some paper towels from a shelf. “What if I wouldn’t mind going again?” You ask and he snorts quietly, gently pulling your clothes back up before wiping most of the thick white liquid off of the sides of your thighs.

“I know you wouldn't sweetheart.” He starts, glancing up at you with the most genuine smile, the love and admiration in his eyes almost making you blush like he didn’t just fuck you over his office desk.

Placing a kiss right between your legs, he quickly stands back up.

“But-” He continues, holding your hand up to help you step out of the panties still stuck around your ankles.

“We have a reservation."

He reminds you of the actual plans for today before bending over to grab the panties off the floor and shoving them into his pocket.

“We can't be late for that, huh?”

You shake your head, knowing he’s right.

“Yeah, c'mere.” He sits down on the desk chair, pulling you into his lap before wrapping his arms around you.

You sigh loudly, and he lets you rest your head against his chest. Pressing three gentle kisses right at the top, he holds you even tighter. His thumb bushing over your skin, his breathing helping your own slow down.

“You felt good?” He asks quietly and you nod with a smile.

“You know, I always do.”

“Well…I gotta make sure you know? I mean, if there's room for improvement-“

You laugh, looking up at him and cupping his face with your hand.

“I mean I gotta know baby! It’s the law, you have to tell me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, they just made it a law this morning.”

“Oh, oh well, that’s wonderful to know.”

“Mhm.”

You cuddle up into him some more, letting your eyes close for a second.

“Yo Mikey, what the fuck are you doing, we need you in the kitchen.”

Carmy.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!” Mikey shouts back, covering your ears before he does so, just to try to not disturb you as much. You both laugh at his choice of words before he leans down for one last kiss.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.” He whispers, his lips brushing over you when you nod softly. Your arms now wrapped around his neck.

"I ain't done with you yet."

You smile softly at the promise.

“Thank you, Bear.”

He winks, walking over to the door.

"Rest up, baby. I love you."