#i texted people to ask if they were available even to be on call with me while i recovered to make sure nothing happened

[veritasangel]

if we're being honest

⋆ ˚｡⋆ any pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none ↣ just soft simon {wc: 1.5k}

There was a dating app on Simon’s phone, he hated the thing but hadn’t uninstalled it yet.

It usually all went the exact same with everyone who messaged him. They’d ask Simon some shallow questions and then instantly begin flirting. Sure, maybe that was what it was for, but it felt so forced to Simon and he never had an urge to flirt back.

He’d keep the conversation steady and at least try to get to know them. But then the sexual remarks would begin almost instantaneously. Maybe others would be okay with that, but not Simon.

He could hardly stand such topics with people he knew, let alone sexting a stranger, he never got the appeal. It was very clear that most of the ones talking to him had focused on the ‘soldier’ part in his bio and ignored everything else. 

He had actually been meaning to delete his profile because it clearly wasn’t working, but as he opened the app to do so, your profile popped up.

You looked pretty, a sweet smile too. He couldn't help himself and clicked on one of the other photos available, one of you smiling with a cat. He tilted his head as he looked at the giant fluffy cat.

'Hmm, might be a slight problem one day' Simon thought to himself as he glanced at his dog beside him. He was already getting ahead of himself at that smile of yours, alone.

He sighed, trying to shake away the thought of messaging you. He had opened the app to delete it, but there was something about you that had his brain, or maybe his heart, screaming at him to just go for it one more time.

Simon contemplated for a good few seconds but who was he kidding? He knew he would end up messaging you.

The first conversation with you was a breeze, you were throwing all sorts of jokes his way and honestly for a moment he thought Soap was pranking him because your humour was almost the same.

He’d later learned that you were nervous so the jokes felt like a better icebreaker and honestly it made him feel better to know you were nervous as well. The messages between the two of you were more like two friends getting to know one another, there wasn’t a hint of anything romantic even after you guys had been talking for a little while.

And maybe that’s what Simon wanted.

Falling for a friend felt much more real to him and if that friend was you, well he liked the idea even more. You were caring, funny, intelligent and honestly everything about you was what he wanted in a partner. You made him feel comfortable, even asking at the start what topics were out of bounds and as a man with a lot of trauma, that was a huge sigh of relief.

Eventually he got the courage to ask if you would want to go on a date with him, and thankfully you said yes.

Simon picked a nice restaurant a good distance between the both of you so neither one had to travel far. Everything leading up to it was perfect, but right as he was about to leave, he had a slight panic.

He had to call Johnny and try not to let it turn into a full blown panic attack. Soap kept him calm, talked him through it, even suggested that it'd be best if Simon probably cancelled the date. That last part wasn't really what he wanted to hear though, Simon didn’t want to cancel, he wanted to see you so badly. Needed to.

Eventually, after a long conversation, he reluctantly agreed with Soap, getting off the phone to send you the dreaded text.

Sorry, but I’m gonna have to cancel or maybe reschedule tonight's date. I think it’s the going out to the restaurant part that's setting me off and I just can't do it right now :/ Again, really sorry.

He puts his phone down and he already knows how this is going to go. You’ll think he’s a dick, send an annoyed response back and block him before he can explain...but instead his phone starts ringing.

"Si, you alright?"

He just takes in the soft sound of your voice as he takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts.

"Uh yeah-" he mumbles, "I'm really so sorry if I've wasted your time, you probably got ready and everything and I-"

You cut him off mid ramble before he can overthink anymore, "It's okay. "Talk to me, are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, feeling a little better, I just-" Simon begins, "Just had a little panic, it’s not you, don’t worry. I just haven’t done anything out and about in a while, I think the restaurant was a little daunting. I really apologise."

"You really don't need to apologise Si. I'm sorry you're feeling that way." you say softly, worrying about him over the phone and Simon knows it, can hear it in your tone.

"I'll be fine, love, really. Just wanted you to know it’s not a cop out. Swear I really wanted to finally meet you. Properly."

"Well I don’t want to push any boundaries so feel free to say no. But maybe I could still come over?" you say tentatively, "We don't need to go out to some expensive restaurant, could just be comfortable at your place...If you want of course, no pressure."

“Really?” Simon asks, hope emanating as he listened to your words.

“Yeah, I mean, honestly home stuff is cosier anyway.”

“I don’t have anything in the fridge.” he says, almost as if he’s trying to dissuade you. He doesn't want to of course, but he just thinks for a moment that maybe he's imagining you.

“Didn’t you say there’s a nice Vietnamese place near yours that delivers? I’m down for that.” you suggest.

“Really?” Simon repeats, an actual grin on his face now and he's thankful you can't see him.

“Yeah, why not?”

And that was that, Simon was already smiling to himself, thankful to everything that he hadn't deleted that stupid app when he was going to. Even his dog gave him a look of sorts and he just laughed,

She might be the one, little guy.

When you turned up, Simon absolutely forgot how to speak, all nerves and blushes as you hugged him. But it was good nerves, and ones that died down relatively quickly once he'd shown you around and spoken to you a little.

Honestly he found himself staring a little too often and had to keep reminding himself to not look too much like an obsessed weirdo. The evening flew by pretty quickly, you guys ordered your food, eating it in front of the tv. It was a real casual setting but he liked it and you did too.

The conversation was just as relaxed in person and even his dog liked you, snuggling up against your leg during the evening, not even sparing Simon a glance.

Damn traitor

“I’m glad you called.” Simon begins nervously, as he looks over at you, “You know, as in, instead of thinking I was an ass.”

“An ass for what?” you ask, confused. One of your hands absentmindedly rests on his arm and it's a feeling Simon could get used to, one that felt natural.

“Well...for potentially cancelling.” 

“Simon, you were anxious. If anyone has been mad at you for cancelling for that reason before, then they’re the asshole, not you.”

And he feels so lucky to have met you, grateful he went through with messaging you that day. The warmth of your presence, the natural ease of your conversation, and the genuine concern you showed meant so much to him.

This wasn’t just a random fleeting encounter. It felt like the beginning of something real, which is exactly what he wanted.

As the night grew late, you both found yourselves laughing at a silly movie, hands wandering slightly, but not too much. Honestly the two of you were so comfortable, anyone would think you were already 5 years deep into a relationship.

Your laughter was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, Simon felt a sense of peace wash over him. The worries that usually plagued his mind seemed distant, almost insignificant. Eventually, you both fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company. His dog, fast asleep at your feet and a sure sign of approval if there ever was one.

“Tonight was really nice,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it was,” Simon agreed, his voice equally soft. He glanced over at you, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the TV. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

You smiled, a warm, genuine smile that almost made him blush again. “Anytime, Si. I mean it.”

“Can we do this again?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

“I’d like that,” you replied, your smile reassuring him.

And as the night eventually came to an end, Simon was laying in bed, a content smile on his face as he finally deleted that damned app, but this time for a good reason.

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

[monzabee]

bad idea right? – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where seeing Lando tonight is a bad idea, right?

Pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of breakups and also fighting, cursing, kind of a toxic relationship?, allusion to smut, it's criminal how long it took me to finish this fic

Request: this wasn’t requested, but the idea is veeery loosely from this tiktok right here! (i might def write the scenario in the tiktok in the future though)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it has officially been a month since i started my master's programme and i have to say it is absolutely kicking my ass, but thank you all for bearing with me while i adjust! this song has been stuck in my head for the last two-three (?) months and i really wanted to write a fic based on it. i also wanted to say that i've received all of your guys' requests, and i'm working on those, but it's harder for me to get out a request than a fic that just popped in my head because i tend to be more of a perfectionist with those - so, those are definitely on the way, don't worry! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

It’s not that you don’t like spending time with your brother and his girlfriend – because you do, but considering the fact that spending a mere hour with them causes you to suddenly question your life choices (of being single), you are very eager to leave them alone for the night. Which brings us to the current situation, with you standing in front of your brother’s apartment complex in one of the hoodies you stole from the sample boxes, waiting for someone you should’ve never hit up in the first place. It was probably not your brightest idea to message Lando to ask him if he wants to go for a ride, especially because a) the last time you saw him a year ago the two of you were yelling and throwing things at each other and b) you’re definitely buzzed from the bottle of wine you hogged upstairs. But you know what they say; absence makes the heart go fonder, right?

So there you are with your phone in your hand, texting Lily in hopes of getting the tiniest bit of reassurance about your decision.

To lily m: i texted lando To lily m: he’s gonna pick me up From lily m: WHAT? NO To lily m: seeing him tonight To lily m: it’s a bad idea, right? From lily m: YES From lily m: DO NOT GET INTO THAT CAR To lily m: yes i know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?

Fuck it, it’s fine, you decide as you quickly delete the last two messages. With a soft sigh, you wrap your arms around yourself to shield yourself from the cold air of the night. And while you could just wait for Lando inside the apartment building, you really don’t want to attract more attention to yourself. You can feel yourself getting more and more nervous as the minutes pass by, and you even contemplate cancelling the whole thing and going upstairs to sleep. Just as you’re about to give up on the whole thing, a car honk grabs your attention. When turn to look at the source of the sound, you see Lando’s unamused face through the open window.

He motions you to get in with his head, his voice as equally detached as he calls out, “Get in.”

Rolling your eyes at his behaviour, you do as your told. But you tell yourself that it’s not because he told you to, but because you’re cold. And so you get in the car making sure you slam the door as hard as you can, which makes him scowl as a small smile forms on your lips. “You know, you could really try on being more polite.”

“I’m picking you up in the middle of the night,” he points out as he puts the car on drive and starts driving off, “and put your damn seatbelt on.”

You give him a sideway glance as you put on your seatbelt, letting out a sigh, “Are you okay? I’m sensing some serious undertone.”  

Lando doesn’t answer you, mainly because he is smarter than he looks and he knows you’re trying to goad him into another fight. That’s what the two of you had always done, not that he hated you or vice versa, but the two of you mainly got along in fights which ended up in both of you twisted between the sheets of the whatever hotel you were currently staying in. And it had worked for a while, until of course it didn’t, and Lando was mature enough to admit that he had a huge role in fucking up your relationship.

“You changed your car,” you point out.

“Thought you’d appreciate a roof over your head this time,” he replies.

The car is silent as Lando drives down the now empty streets of Monte Carlo, and you find yourself involuntarily checking out his side profile because well, he always looked so good while driving. You suppose it’s only one of the things that didn’t change with time.

“So,” his voice draws you out from your thoughts, “why’d you call me tonight? Are you drunk?”

“I am not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, “if you don’t feel like being here Lando, I can just get off and go home.”

“Now I didn’t say that, I simply asked a question.” He steals another glance at you, but this time a little smirk forms on his lips when your eyes meet and he sees your scowl. “It was a harmless question, really.”

Your voice comes off as clipped as you answer, “I’m not drunk.”

“Your cheeks are red,” Lando points out but the playfulness from mere seconds ago is gone, in fact, he’s more serious than you’ve probably ever seen him, “you either had wine or your rosacea is acting up.”

It takes a moment for you to take in his words, and there is no humour in his voice or on his face when you look at him to see whether he’s joking or not. “I had some wine,” you confess, voice much lower than before as you add, “but I’m not drunk.” One of his eyebrows rise up, and you find yourself mumbling, “Fine maybe a little bit, but not a lot.”

His jaw ticks as he mumbles, “Okay, whatever you say.” And as you try to assess whether his voice is cold or not, you see his hands tightening around the steering wheel.

“What?” You ask, a bit quicker than necessary (in your opinion), “What did I say?”

Now it’s his turn for his voice to be clipped, and his eyebrows furrow as he asks, “Did you only call me because you’re drunk?”

“No,” your reply is truthful to some extent, you suppose, you would’ve texted him even if you had no alcohol in your system. “I wanted to see you.”

He lets out a hum, “Why?”

It’s a hard question, and you contemplate not being a hundred percent honest – but deep down you know he deserves better, even if you had your differences. So, to reveal the truth, you turn your face away from him to look outside the window, “I missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t turn to see what his reaction will be. Everything is peaceful for a moment.

He takes you to a hill, the very one he took you for your first date. Though, it doesn’t carry the same excitement this time around. The two of you remain in the car with the windows rolled down, but the colder air doesn’t make you chilly. It’s silent, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. Neither of you make the first move to start a conversation, and you don’t know if that’s because you’re both obstinate or he doesn’t want to be there. Though, you suspect he would’ve told you ‘no’ if he didn’t want to be there – not that he could ever tell you ‘no’.

It's unnaturally hard, you realise, not looking at him on purpose when he’s seated so close to you. Especially because you haven’t seen him in months. Not that you’d confess that to him, or let yourself have another weak moment where you say you missed him. Because you can’t. Because it’s not the way the two of you operate. Because he broke your heart but you’re not strong enough to let him go. With that last thought, you take a sharp breath, undo your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean against the hood of the car and he soon follows suit. But where your hands are splayed behind your back, his arms are crossed over his chest.

“You’ve not been sleeping.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Because he is not dumb (or blind enough) to let the circles under your eyes slide.

And it’s a statement that might be true. You only give him half of a shrug, “So?”

“It means that something is bothering you.” You’re about to object, but he quickly shuts you down, “I once drove you around for four hours so you could sleep in my car, honey,” his fingers move to gently turn your chin towards him so he can look into your eyes, “and that was because you forgot to bring me back junk food from Australia.”

Even if you’re taken aback by his physical touch, you don’t show it as you stubbornly maintain your eye contact. “It’s the jet lag, I haven’t travelled in a while.” You gulp down a breath as you gently push his hand away, “And don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He turns his body to face you, “You’re just as sweet, aren’t you?”

“Lando,” you warn him, “don’t.”

He raises a brow, “Why not?”

“Because we’re friends,” your response comes off in an instant, “I only see you as a friend.” The biggest lie you’ve ever said.

“Friends,” he repeats, tests out the word, then shrugs, “sure. Now tell me what happened tonight that made you call me. Did you and Daniel fight?”

“What?” an involuntary laugh leaves your lips, and you catch the corner of his lips turning upwards just the smallest bit. “No, we didn’t, it’s not about Daniel. Can we just not talk about it, please?”

He gives you a firm nod, and you catch his grimace as he turns his attention back to the view in front of you. “You can tell me, you know,” he mumbles, “you used to.”

He’s right, you realise. You used to tell him all the little thought that popped into your head, whether it was nice or not, and he’d accommodated your thoughts. It was easier to talk to him, once upon a time, and you’re not really sure why it hurts so much right now that you can’t.

“Why do you care?” The question comes out quickly, and your voice is not as strong as you’d like it to be. “After everything, why do you care?”

“We’re friends, right?” The words tastes unbelievably sour in his mouth, and he has to restrain himself from making any sort of face, but it seems harder than it actually is for him to do and he questions whether it is worth it to

“Friends,” this time it’s your turn to test out the word, and it tastes as bitter as they come, “sure, can we ride around a bit more?”

“Fine,” he gives you a nod and motions you to get in the car, “but I have to get gas first.”

The fluorescent lighting of the gas station is definitely not the most flattering thing. So much so that you’re sure the unflattering light outside is exaggerating the bags under your eyes. But that situation of course doesn’t apply to Lando because even under the harsh lighting, he looks too pretty. And compared to earlier in the night, you don’t try to hide the way your eyes focus on him while he’s driving, though you hope you do a much better job at hiding the thoughts that come to your mind. Even after he’s parked the car in the nearest pump, you find yourself staring at his side profile a bit too long, which earns you a sideway smirk and you try your hardest not to react, but the smile you keep trying to fight is too strong and eventually you find yourself with the tiniest smile playing on your lips.

Lando turns towards you, meets your eyes and leans over the console, “Do you want anything from the shop?”

You blink once, trying to come up with anything, twice, then “Can you get me those gummy bears that I like?”

He gives you another nod, reaches into his pocket and then hand you his phone. Ignoring your questioning stare, he explains, “So that you can play music or something, the password is still the same.” Before he gets out of the car, he does the unexpected and leans in just a little bit more to press a feather-light kiss to your temple.

You watch him get out of the car and walk away from you with your mouth slightly hanging open. You contemplate trying to unlock the phone, because why would he tell you that his password is the same? And why would he trust you with his phone when the two of you have been broken up for over a year? With shaky hands, your fingers put in the password, calling Lando’s bluff. Oh shit, you think when the phone unlocks, now what? Throwing the phone out of your hands onto the driver seat, you grab your own and quickly type a new message to Kika, who of course got the news from Lily and has been blowing up your phone, while ignoring her dozen other messages who went unread in your text thread.

To kika: this was a bad idea kika Tokika: a very *very* bad idea From kika: please tell me you’re going home To kika: um… To kika: sure From kika: GET OUT OF THAT CAR AND GET YOUR ASS HOME From kika: NOW!!

Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes linger on the messages spamming your phone, and you contemplate just getting out of the car and trying to find your way back home. But you also can’t help yourself but think… what’s the worst that could happen if you stayed? Clicking the button on the side of your phone, you place it face down on your lap after making sure you silence it for the rest of the night. With the reminder of the abandoned phone on the seat next to yours, you open your window to let some of the night air in. As your phone keeps buzzing on your lap, your eyes focus on the figure that comes out of the convenience store – and by some grace of God, he doesn’t realise the way your eyes basically undress him as he approaches his McLaren.

There’s no smile on his face, in fact, if you didn’t know Lando, you’d say he looks like an asshole; not that he occasionally doesn’t act like one. He gives you that boyish smirk when he’s next to your window, signalling you to roll it down by tapping on it twice. Lando leans against the car, his eyes locked onto yours. “Got your gummy bears,” he says, holding up the package and handing it to you once you roll it down. “It was the last one too, you’re lucky.”

Giving a tight lipped smile to the man looking expectantly at you, you accept the packet of gummy bears. “Thank you, Lando,” the softening look in his eyes is, ironically, strong enough for you to choke on the next words that are on the tip of your tongue. “I–”

“I’m sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?” A third voice interrupts you, and you find yourself moving your gaze from Lando to the woman who’s excitedly waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he breathes out, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice polite but he’s also very annoyed at the same time – though the way he eyes up the stranger definitely makes your blood boil.

With his attention on the woman, you find yourself feel the tension in the air and quickly look down at the packet of gummy bears in your hands. You start absentmindedly picking at the wrapper, your mind racing with a mixture of emotions. As the conversation between Lando and the fan continues, you steal glances at them from the corner of your eye. She's gushing about a recent race, talking animatedly about the thrilling moments she witnessed. Lando, for his part, is gracious and engaged, taking the time to listen and respond. And despite the polite exchange, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. It's a reminder of the world he's a part of, a world where fans approach him with admiration and excitement. A world you used to share, but now only observe from the sidelines.

You watch the woman place her hand on Lando’s bicep, laughing at a (rather mediocre) joke he made about the understeer of the car. It’s not a funny joke by any means, and you are not scared to admit that the woman’s laugh that fills your ears makes your insides twist uncomfortably. You remind yourself that you're here by choice. You could have left at any moment. But there's something about this night, about being with Lando again, that you can't quite let go of. It's a confusing mix of nostalgia and longing, wrapped in a blanket of uncertainty.

The woman’s voice hits your ears as you hear her ask, “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Without letting them both know that you’re actively listening into their conversation, you attempt to subtly let out a warning cough, but Lando covertly smirks as he leans towards the car with his hand grabbing the lowered window – without caring about the possible finger prints he might leave behind, might you add. Without any hesitation, you let your fingers go of the packaging to thread your fingers with his.

While his thumb gently starts to draw circles on the knuckle of your thumb, he does his best to supress the chuckle building up in his throat. “That’s, um, very kind – but I’m with my girl, you see, and we are both pretty tired.”

Maybe you would’ve given her a friendly smile over a misunderstanding if you were in a better mood, but as the woman looks at you with wild eyes, all you can offer her is an annoyed pout, and soon after she leaves after apologising to you both for interrupting your plans. You watch her leave until there is a good enough distance for her to not hear you, and then turn to Lando and give him a glare as you hiss, “I am not ‘your girl’.”

He finally lets out the chuckle he’s been holding as he watches you letting go of his hand with an exaggerated push, and then diverts his amused eyes towards you, “Sure, whatever you say, jealous girl.”

“I am not– I wasn’t jealous!” you exclaim, eyes narrowed. When he starts walking towards the driver’s side, you can’t help but call out, “I’m not jealous!”

Lando is still chuckling to himself when he gets in the car, and even as he starts driving, completely ignoring your whining complaints. “That’s alright, honey,” he says, voice full of condescension, “it was very cute.”

“You are an ass.” You roll your eyes as you cross your arms across your chest. “Maybe I should’ve gotten off when I had the chance, that way you could’ve fucked her in the back seat.”

“Bold of you assume she’s the one I’d want to fuck in my back seat,” he raises an eyebrow, then shrugs “but sure.”

Your face scrunches up in disgust, “You’re, ugh, you’re just the worst, Lando.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you add, “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you over you fucking girls in your car.”

Lando manages to get out a disapproving tut, and then contends, “I never said I’d fuck girls in my car, I’d said I’d rather fuck you in my car.”

Completely baffled by this revelation, not that you should’ve been, you turn to him in disgust, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs again, noncommittally, and without paying you any mind continues to focus on the road.

“Well,” you laugh, breathlessly, “good thing that’s never happening.” Gently clearing your throat, you later can’t help yourself but add a silent, “Again.”

“If you’d rather a bed, that could also be arranged, honey.” Lando assures you, and you realise the little fucker has a smirk growing on his face.

“As if I’d sleep with you willingly,” you scoff.

A boisterous laugh is what you get from Lando, who tilts his head towards you, “Come on, I’m a good-looking bloke.”

“And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter man,” you sing, but you just can’t remember when. So deciding to block out what Lando is rambling about, you pull out your phone to message someone who has the answer for you.

To lily m + kika: can you tell me someone who is hotter than lando? From lily m: alex From kika: pierre To lily m + kika: ew, be serious please From kika: what about the guy with the accent, from hungary? From lily m: the doctor? To lily m + kika: i think she meant the reporter From lily m: god no he was a creep From lily m: what about the surfer? From kika: oh yeah he was cute too To lily m + kika: i need someone hot, pleaseee From lily m: THE MODEL FROM MILAN From kika: WITH THE ABS From kika: and also porche From lily m: BUT ALSO THE ABS To lily m + kika: okay thanks To lily m + kika: love you guys

Getting lost in the conversation, with the aid of your ambition to prove yourself right and, naturally, Lando wrong, you don’t realise that he’s actually driven you back to his apartment instead of a bar or literally some other place that sells alcohol in that ungodly hour.

“This isn’t a bar.” You point out, eyebrows furrowed.

Lando dignifies your comment with a scoff, “Well aren’t you quite the detective?”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you basically hiss at him this time, “This is basically kidnapping.”

Lando glances at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Kidnapping? Really? I thought we were just catching up.”

You shoot him a sarcastic look, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, sure. Catching up in the middle of the night at your place.”

He parks the car and turns to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Well, here’s my proposal. I’ll go to my apartment and you’re free to either join me or drive my car back to Daniel’s – I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.”

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options as you watch Lando give you an assuring smile and handing you the keys before getting out of the car. Going back to your brother's place doesn't sound all that appealing, and Lando's offer, as questionable and a bad idea as it may be, seems like the lesser of two evils. Though, there is also the reality that if when you go up to his apartment, you’re probably going to do something that either you or your friends will regret tomorrow morning. Watching Lando’s retreating figure move further into the apartment building, you think, fuck it, it’s fine.

So, you wait for a few minutes, anxiously twirling the car keys in your hand to make him wait – but you’re pretty sure it makes you suffer just as much. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then climb out of the car. Locking it behind you, you follow Lando into the building. The familiar scent of his cologne hits you as you step into the elevator, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. The elevator ride going up to the second floor is pure torture, and it leaves you squirming in your place the whole time. Basically throwing yourself out of the elevator once it lands on the second floor, you realise that Lando has been waiting for you, standing and smiling at his door.

He gives you a teasing look as you approach, clearly amused by your slightly dishevelled state. “Took you long enough,” he remarks, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. But instead of saying anything or retorting back, you quietly follow him inside his apartment. Lando closes the door behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The dim lighting casts a soft glow, creating an intimate atmosphere. The first thing that catches your eye is the helmet collection he keeps in the living room. Without saying anything, you quickly make your way over to the shelves that display the helmets, trying your best to avoid his approaching footsteps behind you. The familiar design of a particular helmet has you instinctively tracing the number at the top, and the arms that hug your waist from behind makes you freeze for a moment. Lando's touch is both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions you thought were long buried.

“That's from Monza, 2021,” he says, his voice close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

You clear your throat, attempting to regain composure. “I remember,” you reply, your fingers still lingering on the helmet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present hangs in the air. Lando breaks the silence, his voice low and measured. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come up.”

You turn to face him, meeting his gaze, but don’t attempt getting out of his arms. “I didn't think so either.”

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours. It's a tentative touch, a testing of waters, and you find yourself responding to the familiarity of the kiss. The taste of the past lingers, and for a moment, it's as if the years haven't passed. But reality crashes back in, and you pull away, the distance now a necessary boundary. Lando looks at you, a mix of emotions playing on his face. There's longing, regret, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the complexities that bind you.

“I thought we could just catch up,” he says, his tone a mix of apology and yearning.

You turn in your place, facing him. “Catching up was never our strong suit, was it?”

“Not really,” Lando shakes his head, “no.”

You bite down on the corner of your lip, threading your fingers through his curls as you pull his face down to meet yours as you rise on your tiptoes, “It’s a bad idea, right?”

Lando lets out a supportive hum as he lets his lips softly brush against yours, “The worst.” And maybe he should have been the gentleman and pull away, but when he sees your eyes closing, he just leans in further to press his lips against yours – and the way you respond to his kiss? It's as if the world outside ceases to exist. The kiss deepens, each brush of his lips against yours reigniting a long-buried flame. Lando's hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, erasing the physical space between you.

You don’t complain as he pulls you towards his bedroom, or when he gently throws you on his bed, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. As he hovers over you, the weight of the past and the intensity of the present converge. His hands trace the contours of your face, memorizing every curve as if committing it to memory. And when the two of you get lost between each other within his sheets, the only thing that ends up coming from your mouth is either his name, or some sort of encouragement to keep him going. After he manages to wear you out, Lando decides that you’re definitely not going anywhere as he wraps you in his arms around you. The room is filled with the soft sounds of breaths syncing, hearts beating in tandem. Lando's fingers draw absent patterns on your skin while you check the messages that have accumulated in your phone. The glow of your phone illuminates the dim room, creating a subtle contrast to the warmth that envelops you. Lando's presence beside you adds an extra layer of comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy that unfolded moments ago.

From danny: please tell me you didn’t get kidnapped by the organ mafia From danny: wink twice if you’re alive From danny: this is not funny, where are you? From danny: fine i’ll ask alex to ask lily

Rolling  your eyes before sending him a text to let your brother know you’re okay, you decide to turn your attention to the group chat with Lily and Kika.

From kika: did you get home safe? From lily m: daniel is pretty stressed about it From lily m: please for the love of god tell us you’re home and not with lando right now To lily m + kika: omg just calm down i’m in bed To lily m + kika: and i’m going to sleep To lily m + kika: love you guys

You catch a glimpse of Lando’s grin over your shoulder as you click your phone off, but he only chuckles as he buries his face into your neck as he leaves small kisses to the skin there. “Well, I’m not lying, I just didn’t specify where I was.”

“Or in whose sheets,” his laugher gets louder as you jokingly slap him on the arm, “go to sleep, honey, we’ll be tired in the morning.”

And it might’ve been a bad idea to message him in the first place, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one.

[adrienneleclerc]

Shopping Trip

Pairing: Lando Norris x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N go to the mall and Lando is bored

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: based the scene from the Barbie Movie, you know the one.

Lando was in Monaco, came home after the triple header and like most drivers, he missed his girlfriend. Lando was asleep in his bed when he heard Y/N getting dressed.

“What are you doing up, sweet thing? I thought we could stay in bed.” Lando said.

“Mm, I would love to, mi fresita, but I can’t. I have a nail appointment at the galleria.” Y/N said.

“You mean the metropole shopping center?” Lando asked.

“It’s a big indoor mall, I’m calling it a galleria. I’ll probably have a look around too.” Y/N said.

“Can I come with you?” Lando asked.

“You wanna come with me to get my nails done?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I could pick out your nail color, I’m paying. Let me shower real quick and we can go.” Lando said.

“Okay, amor.” Y/N said. Y/N had a quick snack and looked for Pinterest photos of nail designs while she waited for Lando to shower and get dressed. Once dressed, Lando got out of the room and sat next to Y/N. “Great, pick which design you like.” Lando took Y/N’s phone and searched through her Pinterest board until he landed on a design he liked.

“This one is very you. Plus, it’s cute and girly, and the color suits you, you ready to go?” Lando asked. Y/N nodded and both of them left the apartment to go to his car.

Though the rules are ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole’, Lando let Y/N pick the music. Once they arrived at the mall, Lando opened Y/N’s door to let her out and they walked into the mall, some people were asking for photos on their way to the nail salon. Y/N walked in first.

“Hello, I’m Y/N, I have an appointment.” Y/N said.

“Ah yes, we were expecting you, we have your chair ready right here.” The employee lead Y/N to the ‘nail station’ while Lando sat in the waiting area. As soon as Y/N was settled, they began their work, using the nail drill to buff her nails. The acrylic isn’t even on Y/N’s nail when Lando decided to stand next to her.

“Darling, I’m bored.” Lando said with a pout, Y/N turned her head.

“Cariño, you wanted to come with me. Just entertain yourself, find something to do.” Y/N said, turning her head back to make conversation with the nail tech. Lando looked around the nail salon.

“What am I supposed to do?” Lando asked.

“Lando! Go for a walk or something.” Y/N said

“By myself?” Lando asked.

“Yes!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Where?” Lando asked.

“Anywhere!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Can i go that way?” Lando asked, pointing to a store across the nail salon.

“Yes.” Y/N said. Lando started walking but he didn’t leave the salon yet. “Don’t go too far.” Y/N said.

“Okay!” Lando exclaimed. He walked back to where Y/N was sitting. “I’ll text you what store I’m at, here’s a couple hundred bucks, I love you.” Lando said, kissing her temple, adding the couple hundred bucks in her bag.

“I love you too, stay on the first floor please.” Y/N said.

“I will.” Lando said before leaving.

An hour or so later, Y/N’s nails are finished, she paid the nail tech, and checked her phone to see what store Lando is at but she found him sitting by the water fountain, eating chicken wings.

“You got food?” Y/N asked.

“I was hungry and I came here to spend time with you, which means we will check the stores together. Let me see your nails.” Lando said and Y/N showed him her nails.

“Beautiful, they did a great job. Maybe when it’s time for me to propose, I’ll send you here to get your nails done.” Lando said, getting up from the fountain edge to walk with Y/N,

“Wow, you think about proposing to me?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I do, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.” Lando said,

“You are the sweetest. Think we can go to Sephora?” Y/N asked.

“You spend too much money at Sephora.” Lando said,

“It’s not my fault Ulta isn’t available in Europe. Which is stupid, by the way, Sephora is so expensive for no reason, they don’t have my favorite shampoo and conditioner.” Y/N said.

“All right, let’s go to Sephora.” Lando said.

“Yay!” Y/N said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, short but cute, do you think Lando would be like this?

[megaderping]

A while ago, I made a post going into parts of the missable Sae Palace arc text messages, such as these:

However, that post neglected to include a full transcript. I have since transcribed all of these texts, which occur on 10/30, 11/3, 11/7, and 11/11. You must not infiltrate Sae's Palace until after these dates in order to get these.

Transcripts below the cut! Crossposted to the P5 sub.

The first of these texts takes place on 10/30. You will miss this text if you infiltrate the Palace on the first available day.

--

Ryuji: Yo, Akechi.

Akechi: What is it?

Ryuji: You got any idea who the true culprit might be?

Futaba: Oh yeah! You said you saw a masked guy, right?

Haru: I wanted to ask about that too.

Futaba: Did you really see him? The masked guy's gotta be the true culprit, right?

Akechi: If this so-called true culprit is acting alone, then there can be no mistake about it.

Futaba: I see.

Yusuke: The next question is, who is that masked man?

Akechi: Unfortunately, I do not know that much.

Futaba: Ugh, you're useless.

Akechi: That is quite harsh.

Futaba: Aw, you're making me blush!

Ann: That wasn't a compliment...

Akechi: At this point, I have yet to even grasp any clues. But once this is dealt with, I will surely capture him. I promise you that.

We'll be counting on you.

Akechi: Perfect. Leave it to me. It may sound somewhat odd for me to say this, but I am an exceptional detective. I assure you, I will catch this culprit. Look forward to it.

Can you do it?

Akechi: Hm? Do you not trust me?

[The rest plays out the same as the other option.]

--

What's funny about this exchange is how the Thieves know Akechi's deal and are just playing along. It makes some of the reactions (especially from Haru and Futaba) read as comically passive aggressive. However, the more interesting texts start coming on 11/03, 11/07, and 11/11.

Starting with 11/03.

--

Ryuji: Goddamit. People're acting like we were the ones who killed 'em.

Yusuke: I have even heard them say we are assassins hired to deal with psychotic breakdown victims.

Ann: Ugh, that's obviously not what we're trying to do.

Akechi: This must be part of the plan to shift blame onto the Phantom Thieves. After all, the true culprit is the one killing the people on that ranking list.

This is unforgivable

Akechi: Indeed. I have no intentions of letting this slide.

This is total BS

Akechi: But that is the truth for the general public at the moment.

[Both lead to...]

Futaba: Man, this culprit guy really won't let up. I don't remember ever doing anything that'd make someone hate us THIS much.

Haru: He used my father as well...

Akechi: I cannot fathom what his motive may be... We will just have to capture and interrogate him.

Makoto: But before that, we need to change my sister's heart. That's our first step toward stopping him.

Akechi: I must agree. The true culprit will be caught, but before that we must deal with Sae-san. If ranking is being taken into consideration, perhaps I will be targeted too... Just kidding.

--

This tells us that Shido is deliberately having Akechi target high ranking targets on the PhanSite in order to terrify the public with abhorrent acts of violence, much like he did in April. It's a way to make people feel scared and more reliant on Shido to be the change that Japan needs. But if you secure the treasure as quickly as possible, you will miss this added information that really deepens how cruel he truly is by ordering hits just to paint a convenient narrative.

And this is definitely Shido's idea, because on 11/7 we get this gem...

--

Haru: Do you think the culprit could be someone at our school?

Yusuke: That seems somewhat sudden.

Haru: I mean, didn't they find a calling card in Principal Kobayakawa's office? I thought you had suggested that idea yourself, Yusuke.

Yusuke: That was just a generalization.

Haru: But if Mako-chan noticed what was going on with you guys, somebody else might have too.

Ann: So you think that "somebody else" is trying to frame us? What's gotten into you so suddenly?

Haru: Nothing has gotten into me. I just think there's a chance the culprit is related to Shujin...

You might be right. / There's no way.

[Both get the same response:]

Yusuke: What is all of this about? It's too soon to be jumping to conclusions like this.

Haru: Well, I was hoping to hear a professional opinion on the matter... What are your thoughts, Akechi-kun?

Akechi: The possibility is not zero, but it does seem a bit unlikely.

Haru: Why do you ask?

Akechi: A normal person would never do such a thing. They would have no reason to callously murder your principal.

Haru: And what if they weren't normal?

Akechi: Are you implying they kill for the sheer pleasure of it?

Haru: No, not like that. What I mean is, you need certain special abilities to navigate through that world, yes?

Akechi: Ah, so you're saying the culprit is a Persona-user.

Haru: Yes.

Akehci: I see... How perceptive. Truthfully, I was considering that possibility myself. But it is difficult to think they have ties to Shujin Academy.

Haru: Why?

Akechi: There would be no motive for them to carry out such a cruel plot. Clearly our culprit is acting behind the scenes to accomplish some grand objective. He likely has accomplices. It is even possible that he is being controlled by someone.

Makoto: Controlled? By whom?

Akechi: If I knew that, I do not think we would be in this much trouble.

Haru: I see... So even someone like you doesn't know, Akechi-kun.

Futaba: Looks like our genius detective's not so much of a genius after all.

Akechi: Haha, harsh as always. If there is one thing I know, it is that the culprit behind all of this is extremely shrewd. But don't worry. I will catch him, no matter what it takes.

I'm looking forward to that. / I wonder if you can do it.

Akechi: More importantly, we need to focus on changing Sae-san's heart for the time being. If we cannot do that, everything we have done will be for naught. We absolutely must succeed here.

--

There is so much to unpack here. By far, it's my favorite of these texts because of the light it sheds on Akechi's motivations and intentions. First, we have Haru pressing the subject. She clearly wants to squeeze answers out of Akechi. She's subtly putting him on the spot because she knows...

But Akechi lets slip that no, actually, he doesn't do this for pleasure. That actually, he is being controlled and that the true mastermind is someone shrewd that he intends to take down. Amidst all of Akechi's lies and platitudes during this part of the story, we see a crack in his perfectly prepared mask. In a way, this is the most honest we've seen Akechi outside of his Royal confidant and on 8/28 and 9/3. In a way, he's sharing little slivers of himself with the rest of the team (either begrudgingly or for reasons he doesn't fully understand) the way he already has with Joker.

And it actually explains a few things that happen later. Namely, the way he downplays the need to kill the other Phantom Thieves until after the election (keep in mind, he does intend to knock Shido down from his pedestal) as well as treating Morgana as "just a cat." Obviously, this doesn't absolve Akechi of his guilt, but it does make it clear that he isn't as remorseless as a lot of people believe, even if no amount of sunk cost fallacy is gonna undo the damage he's done.

Hell, when combined with his lamentation that he didn't meet Joker years ago in the engine room and his reaction to Morgana explaining changes of heart, these texts further solidify that his feelings toward both Joker and the Thieves are extremely complex and absurdly messy.

Plus we get Haru and Futaba both taking shots at him, which is fun and also extremely deserved. :p

Moving on, there's one final missable November text on 11/11. It goes as follows:

--

Akechi: So, about the investigation... It seems they have no evidence that can truly be called as such.

Ryuji: Well duh.

Akechi: However, it seems they have no intentions of changing their plans.

Ann: They're going to investigate at both Shujin Academy and Leblanc, right?

Akechi: Indeed.

Makoto: Hm. I can understand Shujin... But why Leblanc?

Akechi: The key is Wakaba Isshiki.

Futaba: Is it cause of my mom's research?

Akechi: Correct. Her study of cognitive psience is closely connected to this case. Of that, there can be no doubt.

Futaba: Then this guy's really the mastermind behind all of this?

Akechi: That would be the case. There can be no mistake... The one who erased cognitive psience from this world is surely the culprit behind everything.

Makoto: And getting rid of the research was the only way they could use its powers?

Akechi: How perceptive of you. Yes, that is the only logical conclusion. Both Sae-san and I were searching for clues about that research. But just as we were about to deepen our investigation, this commotion began. And to make things even more troublesome... There was only one person with strong connections to both Shujin Academy and Leblanc. And that person turned out to be the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Yusuke: So the culprit had calculated all of this in advance?

Akechi: Heavens no. That would be impossible. This was a miracle created by the coinciding of multiple chance situations.

Ryuji: Dude, you hear that? He says you got miraculously bad luck. Don't that make you feel good?

I'm so lucky.

Ryuji: Y'know, shitty luck is still luck.

That's not funny.

Ryuji: C'mon, you gotta be able to laugh it off at this point.

Haru: Yes, your luck really is impressive.

Akechi: At any rate, that's the current state of things. And that's why we must obstruct the investigation at all costs.

Makoto: Yes, that's our intention.

--

Once again, we have Akechi laying it on thick that Shido is the one behind everything, as he was the one who ordered the hit on Wakaba, stole her research, and had his own research team develop it further. And keep in mind, Shido's own words, first on 11/21...

"Those who get in the way must be eliminated at times—that's the correct way to use the Metaverse."

And later, his Shadow states, "Moreover, it was thanks to me that Akechi was able to properly use his power to begin with."

So we know that even the idea of inducing mental shutdowns came from him, even if Akechi offered his Metaverse abilities as part of his stupid revenge plan.

What this shows is Akechi wants to hint that there is this bigger puppet master, even if he's going to betray the Thieves, and this is actually really consistent with his Royal confidant. In Rank 7, he uses a billiard games as a metaphor for the upcoming betrayal kill and gives Joker an out, even if he's much happier if you assert your rivalry instead. This makes his warnings about the connections to Wakaba carry a very similar feeling, and since these texts were in Vanilla, it's likely that the Royal confidant built on this foundation.

But then there's the fact that the Thieves are fully in the know that Akechi is going to betray them, so it recontextualizes all these texts where they are genuinely trying to squeeze as much info out of him as they can and likely having to restrain themselves hard (especially Futaba and Haru).

And all of this you will never see unless you delay the infiltration until 11/12. So, the next time you play Persona 5 Royal, it might be worthwhile to delay Sae's Palace to see these in-game! They're really cool and it's a shame they aren't scripted events.

[kentobb]

The Bet (Part Seven)

Characters: College! Sukuna x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: *Sigh* Pure Angst, Jealousy, Alcohol, Mentions of Drunk people?, Foul Language, Suggestive, Smut (Theres not but theres a suggestive part so…might as well categorized it like that), etc.

Author’s Note: I know I said that I will see you guys in a few days. But I was in my break in the airplane and wrote this piece of art. 🩷 Next chapter in a few days. But let me know what you think is going to happened next :)

Part 01

Days passed, and everything seemed to spiral further into despair for Sukuna. He had tried calling you countless times, but each attempt was met with the same automated message: "Sorry, the person you're calling is not available. Please leave a message after the beep."

"Hey, it's me again…please, call me back. Let’s talk.” Sukuna's voice broke as he left yet another voicemail, the pain evident in his words. But there was no response. His text messages, too, were left on "delivered," never receiving a reply.

He clutched the heart locket you had returned to him in such pain, now worn around his own neck, a constant reminder of the love he had lost. Each day without you felt like an eternity, and the absence of your presence in his life was a gaping void that consumed him.

What hurt the most was that you hadn’t been attending class for the past week. He looked for you everywhere—your usual seat in the lecture hall, the library corner where you loved to study—but you were nowhere to be found. The halls felt emptier without you, and summer break loomed just around the corner, only amplifying his sense of urgency and despair.

His brothers had tried their best to comfort him. They sat with him, talked to him, tried to distract him with jokes and stories. But it was useless. Sukuna's mind was consumed with thoughts of you, replaying every moment you had shared, every word he wished he could take back.

Yuuji walked into Sukuna's room one evening, finding him sitting on his bed, staring at his phone. "Hey, any luck?" Yuuji asked, though he already knew the answer.

Sukuna shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "No. She’s not answering. I don't know what to do.”

Yuuji sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You just have to give her time, Sukuna. She needs to process everything.”

"But what if she never forgives me? What if I've lost her forever?" Sukuna's voice was barely a whisper, his fear palpable.

Choso joined them, leaning against the doorframe. "You haven't lost her yet. Just keep trying, keep showing her that you care. She'll come around."

Sukuna nodded, though his heart felt heavy. "I hope you're right."

Days turned into nights, each one blending into the next in a blur of unanswered calls and unspoken words. Sukuna spent his time going through the motions, attending practice, going to class, but his mind was always elsewhere. He found himself constantly touching the locket around his neck, seeking solace in its presence.

Summer break was only a weekend away, and the impending separation from the campus only added to his anxiety. He feared that the distance would only widen the gap between them, making it even harder to reach you.

One evening, as he sat alone in his room, Sukuna decided to leave one more message. "Hey, it's me. I just wanted to say I'm sorry again. I miss you so much. Please, call me back when you can. I love you."

He hung up, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence of his room echoing his loneliness.

His brothers found him there, a picture of heartbreak. They exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to help him. Yuuji sat beside him, while Choso leaned against the wall, both trying to offer their silent support.

"We're here for you, Sukuna," Yuuji said softly. "No matter what happens."

Sukuna nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thanks," he whispered, though he couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness that clung to him.

As the days crept closer to summer break, the weight of your absence grew heavier. Sukuna knew he had to find a way to make things right, but he felt lost, unsure of how to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

He held onto the hope that you would eventually hear his messages, read his texts, and remember the love you had shared. Until then, he would keep trying, keep waiting, and keep believing that somehow, you could find the way back to each other.

One evening, just as he was about to send yet another unanswered message, there was a knock on his door. Sukuna hesitated, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and fear. When he opened the door, he found Gojo standing there, looking uncertain and hesitant.

"Sukuna," Gojo began, his voice wavering slightly. "Can I come in?”

For a moment, Sukuna stood still, his emotions swirling. He didn't know if he was mad at Gojo for telling Mei Mei, or if he was mad at the situation itself. But then he saw the genuine worry and regret in Gojo's eyes, and he managed a soft, weary smile. "Yeah, come in."

Gojo stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a rare vulnerability. He sat down, fidgeting nervously. "Look, I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. I messed up. I shouldn't have said anything to Mei Mei. I didn't think—"

Sukuna held up a hand, stopping him. "Don’t. It’s okay.”

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not mad at me?"

Sukuna shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you. I’m just... tired. Tired of everything. It was my fault too…”

Gojo's shoulders sagged with relief, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "I really am sorry, Sukuna. I never wanted to hurt you. You're my best friend."

Sukuna nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest. "I know, Gojo. I know. It's just been really hard."

There was a heavy silence between them, filled with unspoken words and shared pain. Finally, Gojo cleared his throat. "Look, I know this might not be the best time, but I think you need a break. Mahito's throwing a summer break party, and I think you should come."

Sukuna frowned, shaking his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't feel like partying."

Gojo leaned forward, his eyes pleading. "Just think about it, okay? You need a distraction, something to take your mind off things, even if it's just for a little while."

Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair. The thought of going to a party felt overwhelming, but he couldn't deny that he needed to escape his own thoughts, if only for a few hours. "I don't know, Gojo..."

"Please," Gojo insisted, his voice softening. "Just give it a try. You don't have to stay long. Just come and see if it helps. You can't keep torturing yourself like this."

Sukuna hesitated, but the look in Gojo's eyes, filled with genuine concern and friendship, swayed him. He nodded slowly. "Just for a little while."

A smile broke out on Gojo's face, a mix of relief and hope. "That's all I ask. Thanks, bro."

As they prepared to leave for the party, Sukuna felt a small flicker of something he hadn't felt in days—a glimmer of hope. He knew that it wouldn't solve everything, but maybe, just maybe, it would help him start to heal.

Sukuna arrived at Mahito’s party, the pulsating music and thrumming energy immediately overwhelming his senses. The house was packed with people, bodies dancing against each other, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. He made his way to one of the sofas where his teammates were lounging, drinking and laughing. Yuuji and Choso were already there, engaged in animated conversation.

Sukuna plopped down on the sofa, grabbing a drink from the table in front of him. As he took a sip, he noticed several of his teammates with their girlfriends, their laughter and affectionate touches reminding him painfully of what he had lost. He felt a pang of hurt, wishing you were there with him, remembering how it felt to have you by his side.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, Sukuna found his gaze wandering toward the door. He watched idly as new arrivals trickled in, but then his heart nearly stopped when he saw who walked in.

First, there was a girl with fiery orange hair, wearing a stylish outfit that accentuated her bold personality—Nobara. She exuded confidence, her eyes scanning the room with an assertive gaze. Beside her was a tall, brooding figure with dark, messy hair—Megumi. His demeanor was quiet and reserved, yet there was a certain intensity in his eyes.

But it was the third person who made Sukuna’s breath catch in his throat. It was you.

His eyes widened, and his heart pounded in his chest. What are you doing here? This… this isn’t the place for you. Why would you be here?

You wore a stunning red dress that hugged your curves, the short hemline showing off your legs, and the neckline revealing just enough to make his mouth go dry. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing your natural beauty, and your hair was styled elegantly. You carried a small red purse, completing the look.

Sukuna could hardly believe his eyes. He had never seen you like this. You looked scared, nervous at your surroundings.

As you walked in, people turned to look at you, some even whistling appreciatively. Sukuna felt a surge of jealousy and protectiveness. He didn’t like the way others were looking at you, the way they seemed to undress you with their eyes.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, your attention focused on Nobara and Megumi as they led you toward the mini bar. Sukuna shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours.

Nobara, with her usual flair, seemed to be showing you the ropes, gesturing animatedly as she explained the different drinks. Sukuna’s mind raced. He knew you had never drunk alcohol in your life. This was all new to you, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were out of place, that you didn’t belong in this chaotic environment.

As he watched you, he felt a mix of emotions—jealousy, worry, longing. He wanted to protect you, to pull you away from the prying eyes and the potentially harmful influences. But he also knew he had no right to do so, not after what had happened.

Sukuna's eyes followed your every move, noting the way you hesitated before accepting a drink from Nobara, your expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He wanted to rush over, to tell you that you didn’t have to do this, but he stayed rooted to his seat, torn between his desire to see you and his fear of making things worse.

His teammates continued their banter, oblivious to his inner turmoil. Gojo, noticing his distracted state, leaned over and followed his gaze. “Isn’t that…?” Gojo trailed off, his eyes widening in realization.

“Yeah,” Sukuna replied, his voice tight. “It’s her.”

Gojo glanced back at Sukuna, his expression concerned. “What are you going to do?”

Sukuna didn’t answer immediately. He watched as you took a tentative sip of your drink, your face scrunching up at the unfamiliar taste. Nobara laughed, patting your on the back, while Megumi watched with an amused smirk.

Summoning his courage, Sukuna stood up and began to walk towards you. Nobara, sensing his approach, quickly stepped in front of you, blocking his path.

“She doesn’t want to speak to you,” Nobara said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “Who are you?”

Nobara glared at him, her stance protective. “She’s not your girlfriend anymore, Sukuna.”

Ignoring Nobara's words, Sukuna took another step closer, his determination unwavering. Just then, Megumi stepped in, his presence imposing. “You heard her. Back off,” Megumi said, trying to intimidate Sukuna.

Sukuna glanced at Megumi, a small, defiant smirk forming on his lips. “Nice hair, douchebag. Does it come with instructions?”

Megumi's eyes flashed with annoyance, but before he could retort, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “It’s okay.”

Nobara and Megumi exchanged worried glances, but reluctantly stepped aside, giving Sukuna the space to approach you. You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Sukuna took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “I know you don’t want to talk to me.”

You glanced back at Nobara and Megumi, who gave you encouraging nods before moving a little farther away, giving you some privacy while still keeping a watchful eye.

“Oh wow” you said finally, your voice steady but guarded. “Did you figure that by yourself?”

The tension between you was palpable, and Sukuna struggled to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't believe you were here, dressed so beautifully, yet so different from the girl he had known. It was as if you had transformed overnight, and it hurt to see you this way—so distant and angry.

"Why are you here?" Sukuna asked, his voice edged with frustration. "This isn’t your scene."

You met his gaze defiantly, your eyes flashing with determination. "Isn’t that obvious? I came here to have fun.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. "To have fun? This isn't like you. You don’t need to change yourself to fit in here."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You don’t know me. You’re just some dude who got into my pants for what? A hundred bucks? Turns out I don’t know you either.”

As you turned to walk away, Sukuna instinctively reached out and grabbed your hand, trying to hold you back. "You do know me. And I know you. And I know that this… isn’t you.”

You yanked your arm away, your eyes cold and unyielding. “Fuck you, Sukuna.”

He looked at you angrily, his grip tightening for a moment before he let you go. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Go ahead and have your fun."

“Oh I will, just watch closely.” You turned your back on him, joining Nobara and Megumi, who had been watching the exchange with wary eyes. The party around you started to intensify, the music growing louder, the crowd more energetic. A popular song blasted through the speakers, and everyone began to dance.

Sukuna stood back, watching as you moved to the rhythm with Nobara. He saw you taking shot after shot, your laughter ringing out as you lost yourself in the moment. It was clear you were trying to drown out the pain, but it only made Sukuna more anxious. He didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, too focused on keeping an eye on you.

His anger simmered as he watched you, feeling helpless. This wasn’t you, he thought. This wasn’t the girl he fell in love with. You were trying to become someone else, someone he knew you wasn’t.

The party continued, and a group of boys from the soccer team entered, their presence adding to the already chaotic atmosphere. Among them was Ino, the team captain. Sukuna recognized him immediately—Ino was known for his charm and confidence, a guy who could have any girl he wanted.

Ino’s eyes landed on you, and Sukuna saw him asking around about you. His jaw clenched as he overheard bits of their conversation.

"Who’s she?" Ino asked one of his teammates, nodding in your direction. "I’ve never seen her before."

"Not sure," the teammate replied. "But damn, she’s hot. Definitely new."

Sukuna’s grip tightened on his drink, the plastic cup crumpling in his hand. He wanted to march over there, to tell Ino to back off, but he knew it would only make things worse.

Ino watched you make your way to the bar, probably asking for more shots for yourself and Nobara. His interest piqued, he took his own shot, quickly following you. Meanwhile, Sukuna stood at a distance, trying to control the storm of jealousy and anger brewing inside him. He kept his eyes fixed on you and Ino, his fists clenched tightly.

As Ino reached the bar, he slid up next to you with a charming smile. "Hey there," he said smoothly. "I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?"

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and alcohol. "This is my first party," you replied with a giggle.

Ino raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Your first party, huh? Well, you’re definitely making an impression."

You laughed, leaning in a bit closer. “Well, I hope so.” You said, your thoughts filled with alcohol.

Ino grinned, enjoying the attention. "Well, you’ve got the right idea. I’m Ino, by the way."

You smiled, eyes darting to where Sukuna stood, watching him intently. You saw the anger simmering in his gaze, and a mischievous glint appeared in your eyes. You wanted to provoke him, to make him react. You leaned in closer to Ino, whispering something in his ear that made him blush.

Sukuna saw this and felt his control slipping. He couldn't just stand there and watch you flirt with some guy. His jealousy and anger reached a boiling point, and he marched over to the bar, his eyes locked on you.

"Hey, what do you think you’re doing?" Sukuna demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Ino turned to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just having a conversation. Is that a problem, bro?"

You looked at Sukuna, your expression challenging. "We're just talking, Sukuna. Or do you have a problem with that?"

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. "Yeah, I do have a problem. I don't like seeing my girl flirt with some random guy."

Ino raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "Whoa, whoa. I didn’t know she was your girl. She didn’t mention anything about having a boyfriend."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the bar. "That's because I don’t. We’re not together anymore, remember? I would bet a hundred bucks that you do remember that.”

Sukuna took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “We may not be together right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand by and watch this."

Ino chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension. "Looks like you’ve got some competition, Sukuna. Maybe you should step up your game."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger. "Back off, Ino. This isn’t a game."

Ino shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Whatever you say, man. But from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s having a good time without you, am I right princess?”

Sukuna's anger boiled over as he squared off with Ino. "Back off now, or I swear, I'll punch you," Sukuna threatened, his voice low and menacing.

Ino smirked, clearly unfazed. "You think you can intimidate me? Bring it on, man."

Their argument escalated, voices rising above the din of the party. You rolled your eyes at their macho display and decided to walk away, leaving the two boys to their petty fight. You made your way back to Nobara, who was already at the bar, affected by the alcohol as well.

Sukuna saw you leave, realizing what you successfully did, his anger boiling, he quickly turned away from Ino. Who cursed under his breath as Sukuna left him talking to himself, feeling the sting of being ignored.

At the bar, you started taking shots one after another, trying to drown your feelings in alcohol. The music thumped through your body, the lights blurring together as you downed another shot. Your head felt light, limbs heavy, and your vision wavered. You felt a strange mixture of euphoria and disorientation, the world spinning around you in a dizzying dance.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating. You laughed more freely, but there was a desperation to it, a need to escape the pain that lingered in your heart. You leaned on the bar for support, your mind foggy and your thoughts jumbled. You didn’t realize just how drunk you were, caught up in the haze of alcohol.

Sukuna watched you from across the room, his concern growing with every shot you took. He knew you were pushing yourself too far, and he couldn't stand by any longer. He made his way over to you, his heart pounding with worry.

"It's time to leave," Sukuna said firmly, his grip on your arm gentle but unyielding.

You tried to pull away from his grip, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "No, I’m having fun. Let me go.”

Sukuna tightened his grip slightly, ensuring you couldn’t slip away. "You're drunk. You need to go home."

You stumbled, your balance unsteady. "I’m fine, let me go!" You slurred, your eyes struggling to focus on him.

Sukuna looked around for help and spotted Choso nearby. "Choso! I need your help," he called out.

Choso quickly made his way over, his concern evident. "What’s up?"

"Help me get Nobara. She’s drunk too," Sukuna said, nodding toward Nobara, who was barely standing.

Choso nodded and went to help Nobara, who leaned heavily on him, giggling uncontrollably. Sukuna kept a firm hold on you, guiding you carefully through the crowd. He searched for Yuuji, needing his help to manage the situation, but Yuuji was nowhere to be found.

Sukuna and Choso managed to get you and Nobara to his car. He gently placed you in the passenger seat, where you immediately fell asleep, head lolling against the window. Choso helped Nobara into the backseat, where she too quickly succumbed to sleep.

"Where the hell is Yuuji?" Sukuna muttered, frustration evident in his voice.

"Let’s look for him quickly," Choso suggested, scanning the crowd.

They headed back into the party, looking for any sign of Yuuji. Sukuna opened one of the doors, and his eyes widened at the sight of Yuuji and Megumi making out passionately. Neither of them noticed Sukuna, too wrapped up in each other.

Sukuna backed out quietly, closing the door behind him. He returned to Choso, shaking his head. "I couldn’t find him," he lied, unwilling to expose his brother's private moment.

Choso sighed. "Alright, let’s get them back to the dorm. I’ll text Yuuji and let him know."

They returned to the car, and Choso pulled out his phone, quickly typing a message to Yuuji: "We’re heading back to the dorm. Everyone’s safe. See you later."

Sukuna started the car and began the drive back to the dorms, the weight of the night pressing heavily on him. He glanced at your sleeping form beside him, his heart aching with regret and worry. He hoped that once you sobered up, you could talk properly, and he could begin to mend the rift between you.

Choso stayed silent during the ride, sensing Sukuna’s turmoil. The streets were quiet, the night air cool and soothing. When they finally reached the dorms, Sukuna parked and carefully carried you inside of his dorm, with Choso doing the same for Nobara.

Choso gently laid Nobara down on the sofa, tucking a blanket around her to keep her warm. He glanced over at Sukuna, who was carefully carrying you to his bed. Sukuna placed you down gently, pulling the blanket over you and brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Choso looked back at Nobara, shaking his head slightly. “Yuuji still isn’t answering,” he said, a hint of worry in his voice.

Sukuna smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “He was kind of busy,” he said teasingly.

Choso frowned in confusion but then shrugged it off, too tired to ask for clarification. He put a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the coffee table for Nobara for when she woke up. “She’s going to need this in the morning,” he muttered.

Sukuna nodded, grateful for his brother’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Choso.”

With a sigh, Sukuna made his way back to his room, pausing at the doorway. He saw you sitting up in his bed, looking around the room with bleary eyes. You were clearly still drunk, your movements unsteady.

“Go back to sleep,” Sukuna said softly, his voice filled with concern.

You didn’t listen, your gaze finally landing on him. “Kuna,” you whispered, using the nickname you had given him. The sound of it melted his heart, bringing back a flood of memories.

You stood up, wobbling slightly, and walked toward him. Despite your drunken state, he could see the pain in your eyes, the hurt you were trying to drown out with alcohol. You reached him and began pushing him angrily, your fists hitting his chest.

Sukuna stood still, letting you vent your anger. He didn’t move an inch, your punches not having any effect, but knowing you needed to get it out. You were stronger than you looked, but not enough to physically hurt him. But he deserved anything you threw at him.

“You hurt me,” you cried, your voice breaking. “You broke my heart.” You punched again, “You used me!”

“I know,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

You continued to hit him, your punches growing weaker as you started to sob. Sukuna finally reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. You struggled at first, but then collapsed against him, your sobs shaking your small frame.

“I’m so sorry,” Sukuna repeated, holding you close. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. Your eyes were filled with so much pain, it broke his heart all over again. And then, without warning, you kissed him. Your lips were desperate and passionate, and Sukuna couldn’t help but kiss you back.

For a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, locked in a kiss that was both familiar and new. But then he felt your hands toying with the belt of his pants, and he knew what you were trying to do. He gently grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling back slightly and feeling the alcohol on your lips. “You’re drunk. You’re not conscious.”

You began to cry again, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.

He guided you back to the bed, laying you down gently. You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt. Sukuna climbed in beside you, pulling you close. He began to caress your hair, his touch soothing.

“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just sleep.”

You rested your head on his chest, your breathing slowly evening out as you drifted off to sleep in your drunken state. Sukuna continued to stroke your hair, his heart aching. He had missed this—holding you, comforting you, being close to you.

As you slept, Sukuna thought about everything that had happened. The bet, the breakup, the pain he had caused you. He knew he had a long road ahead if he wanted to earn your trust back, but he was determined to do it. He loves you, and he would do whatever it took to make things right.

But he just hopes that when you wake up tomorrow, you still miss him.

Comments, notes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter three: friends?

summary: the start of fake dating is going well but [name] thinks they should go further.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x f!reader

note: definitely filler chapter vibes but this is important to the plot i promise babes 🤞😫

masterlist | playlist

If looks could kill, [Name] would surely be dead. Since her lecture started 2 hours ago, she could feel someone staring at her. She did her best to figure out who it could have been but the lecture hall stretched too far to the point that people on the other side were essentially too small for her to see if they were even looking across the way.

She should have gotten used to this by now but she still wasn't. It had been days since her and Benji started "dating" and going out in front of the public. They had developed a routine; he would pick her up after work and her night lectures since he didn't have class around those times and take her to wherever she needed to be for that day and then walked off.

It seemed to have been fooling everyone. From the amount of people that would come up to her and pester her about what they were and how they even got together ("Do you think they'd buy into the idea you asked me out at the store?"/"Definitely."), they had managed to get everyone to think they were an item. Regardless, the treatment of being near invisible to being known by name had made her a little unnerved.

She did her best to seem unbothered by the newfound attention, the boring drolls from her Research Methods professor an open distraction. She focused on the class, making sure to note what confused her and that she had to review after she gets home today.

When the class had finally finished, [Name] had walked texted Benji quickly that she would take longer to go out before walking down to talk briefly about an assignment with the professor. It was a simple question but per usual, it had almost turned into a mini lecture where he had to explain his answer from the beginning. She could have fallen sleep there, had she not heard someone call Benji's name.

She glanced back, spotting Benji waiting from inside the classroom. He stood by the door with a crowd of people, talking animatedly. He must have made a joke when some people had laughed so loud, it echoed through the chamber. An easy going smile was on his face, though [Name] can tell it was more practiced than anything.

He looked down to where [Name] stood with the professor. An amused look crossed his face as he spotted the professor before pointing at the seat closest to him and waving to the crowd as they left before going on his phone. [Name] continued to nod along with the professor before finally feeling relief when he ended the conversation.

She had practically ran up the stairs, meeting Benji's gaze and smacking his shoulder lightly as they walked out. "Don't laugh."

"Why? Its funny watching someone practically nap standing up." Benji says, grabbing her bag off her shoulder. He looked ridiculous; the pinkand cream backpack contrasting greatly against his dark attire. [Name] had told him multiple times he didn't have to grab it from her, but Benji insisted.

"I'd do it for my real girlfriend so I'll do it for you." He argued again and again.

"Professor Dondarrion is such a bore." [Name] grumbles as they make their way outside. "All I asked was how to run a function on the system and he went all the went on and on about something else!"

"Yeah, that's why you get rid of Research Methods during your first year," Benji advises, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. She could feel the cold metal of his bracelet pressing against her skin as they walked. "Professor Martell is only available to first and final years here but makes the class interesting. Not to mention she's hot--"

"Nice way to remind me you're still just a man." [Name] countered, though she was more amused than anything else. Most of their walks together always consisted of Benji cracking some kind of crude joke that made [Name] cringe or laugh before they would run out of things to say and walk in silence together.

The first few days were nearly unbearable; the awkward silence and the fear of saying something offputting was enough to keep [Name] from doing or saying anything too damaging. Benji had been the first to break the tension when he had slipped on the wet pavement by her apartment. She wasn't sure she had laughed as hard as she did that day.

Still, some things felt missing but she hadn't had the chance to bring it up or was even sure if she wanted to bring it up. She was definitely sure Benji knew too; after all, he was a lot more perceptive than he led himself to be. Maybe he didn't know how to bring it up either. Regardless, if they felt something was off, they need to address it before it goes too far.

She tugged Benji's hand when they reached the crosswalk, directing themselves to the opposite way of either of their apartments. "Let's go somewhere before we head home." She only offers up. Benji goes along with it, letting her lead him to one of the overnight diners, King's Harbor.

Benji eyed the restaurant suspiciously. "Don't loonies only come in here?"

"Yes, you're looking at one right now." [Name] jokes quietly as she pulls him in. The diner was small, the inside seemingly taking them back into the 60s with the signature red and white leather chairs and a jukebox that hadn't worked in ages. Old posters of movies [Name] couldn't recognize besides Rosemary's Baby hung around in places where LED lights weren't swirling about along the walls.

"What a sight to see!" Yelena Hull calls out from behind the counter. "You're usually here past midnight, dove."

[Name] smiled. "Ah, well, I wanted to take my - ah..." She glanced at Benji sheepishly. "Benji to the diner."

"I'm her boyfriend." Benji states matter of factly, earning an elbow to the stomach by [Name]. He gave her an innocent look. "What? I am."

Yelena looks over at Benji, a smile breaking out of her face before turning to [Name]. "Well, lets get you and your Benji a seat!" She ushered the two to a corner table, just below the Rosemary's Baby movie poster. "Your favorite seat. And first good luck!"

Yelena sent a wink toward [Name], who covered her face in embarrassment as she walked away. "You'll have to excuse Yelena; I'm probably one of the only ones at the diner that doesn't disrupt her graveyard shifts."

"Why do you come here past midnight?" Benji asks.

[Name] motioned to her backpack. "To study. I can't really focus if my bed is a couple of feet away, you know?"

Benji gives [Name] a long look for a moment. "Do you just... Study and work?"

"Most times," [Name] admits. "But that's not why I brought you here. I know this little... Agreement we made is a little strange and we definitely didn't really start off on any proper footing so I guess I just wanted to, I don't know--?"

"Get to know each other more?" Benji suggests, making [Name] nod.

"Yeah - nothing too deep. Just simple stuff like favorite color but I think that's kind of obvious." She eyes his dark blue linen shirt and black pants before darting to her clothes - from her pink sweater to pink ribbons pinning some of her hair away. "But you know what I mean - we get to at least talk about something while we pretend to date."

"You're not wrong. Though not sure I want to hear about what you learned in class today." Benji says.

"I don't talk about class every day!" [Name] says back, throwing a balled up piece of straw cover between his brows.

Benji huffs, "Ha! Liar. You always talk about classes with me whenever I take you home. I swear, I know about your information science classes more than my own business classes."

"Because I had nothing else to talk about." [Name] counters. "Which is why--"

"We're here. I get it. But I still doubt you do anything fun."

The notion made [Name] glare at Benji, who only offered a smirk in response. When he'd gotten comfortable enough with her, he had ended up some weird mix of the Benji's she's seen: friendly and a provoker if he was in the mood.

[Name] rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I don't just study. I have actual hobbies."

Benji leaned into the table, a grin on his face. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I collect Peach Riots when I get the chance, go to the Kingsroad Market every Saturday and find a new recipe to eat while I watch horror movies--"

"Horror movies, huh?" Benji asks, glancing at the poster beside them. "And does that involve anyone?"

Chiara had only ever watched with [Name] if she was worn down long enough by the latter. It had taken her nearly a month and a promise to take the trash out that same month to convince her roommate to watch the Halloween series.

"Usually just me if Chiara can't or won't do that with me." She answers truthfully. "Your turn."

"I like hanging out with my friends." Benji starts, pausing a moment to think. "We go the bars and clubs around here often and sometimes go on weekends trips. Most times, though, we go to the beach just a couple miles from campus and have a campfire. Its only a couple of us but they make it really fun."

He seemed content when he spoke about his friends. Chiara hadn't been joking when she mentioned only sticking to a few people. [Name] wasn't even sure she saw him with them when they were just walking around campus, save for the Tully brothers who always made sure to make their friendship with Benji be known.

It made her wonder what it would be like to have a friend besides Chiara. [Name]'s first year had consisted of her constantly working shifts if it wasn't during the days she was on campus. Not to mention, CIC's small and elite population had her at a disadvantage since cliques and friend groups were already formed.

"Sounds nice." [Name] says to him, glad he was receptive to her impromptu change in their routine. Faintly, she checked the watch on her phone. "Am I holding you back, by the way?"

Benji shakes his head. "Nah. I got nothing tonight. Now, about those horror movies: what's your thoughts on that Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake?"

"Oh my god, do you have all night?"

The rest of the evening had been just that; movie hot takes and soon figuring out that both of them having an affinity for spicy food, even if Benji's mouth is burning a thousand degrees. By the time they had left the diner, they both had nearly everything to say and the walk felt shorter for [Name], which disappointed her greatly since they had gotten into the topic of Aeron Bracken's unusually inflated ego and how Benji went by his middle name "Davos" during Year 5 to 7 before dropping it because too many people were confused if Benjicot and Davos were the same people or not.

The night ended on a good note. [Name] had been more than eager to see Benji again soon instead of dreading trying to figure out what to say to him during their walks. Momentarily, she reminded herself about their agreed conditions and Benji's question from when they first spoke.

"We can't even be friends?"

Had they become friends? [Name] wonders to herself as she settled into bed that same night. For a moment she wants to push against it; making new friends outside of high school was tricky. Regardless, she felt a sense of calm and ease around him that she hadn't felt with many people here.

She pushes the panicked thought back as she closes her eyes, wondering just how interesting the next coming weeks will be now that Benjicot Blackwood seemingly found a way into her mundane routine.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria

[anonymousicecream]

The Queen (Yeri x M Reader)

BxG

Smut (and a small bit of fluff? maybe)

The Queen. The single most powerful student in SM High School. This is basically a role given to the most famous SM High Senior, basically giving them power and authority over everything. It just happen to be that this year, the queen is none other than Kim Yerim, or as people close to her call her, Yeri. She has been your mortal enemy since day one. Both of your parents know each other very well and are very close, however they still wonder as to why you and Yeri never get along ever since the two of you met.

To answer that question, you don't even know why. You always felt as if Yeri's someone who always punches above her weight, someone who takes lots of reckless actions without thinking of the effects, and you believe that it is your responsibility to "put her back in her place".

There you go. The Queen of SM High, who also happens to be someone you despise a lot. You walked into the school calmly, ignoring everything and everyone, but this certain person always attracts your attention, and for all the wrong reasons. You walked straightly, trying to avoid her, but her, already seeing you, decided to walk towards you and bumped you, dropping your books and making her spill her coffee on you.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Yeri said, without a hint of regret or pity. You rolled your eyes and started reorganizing your books, as you glared at her before walking towards your locker, taking the things you need for your biology class.

(In class)

The class has been going for 20 minutes, and it couldn't bore you more to death. The teacher was explaining at a VERY slow pace, and no one could even understand what she was explaining. You decided to open your phone and text someone.

To V: Chem Lab, 606, NOW.

From V: What if I don't go?

To V: I'll make sure your parents know what dirty deeds you do here.

From V: Ugh fine.

You smirked, before excusing yourself from class to go to the nurse for "stomach ache", and the teacher, being a very kind one, allowed you to go. You left the classroom and smirked as you walk towards the Chemistry Lab on the 6th floor. Out of all the classes available, you chose this because this is virtually not used anymore, and will only be used if the main chemistry lab is unavailable.

You entered the chem lab and saw her, THE Kim Yeri, already waiting for you, sitting on one of the benches. You walked to the windows to cover the blinds, before walking towards her.

"Did you bring protection?" Yeri asked you. "Yeah, in my pocket." You replied. She nodded, before you leaned towards her, kissing her on the lips. You waited for a few moments before she started kissing back, moving her hands around your neck. You moved your hands from her cheeks, towards her shoulder and downwards before resting on her hips. She started thrusting her hips forwards, and you do the same, making your covered cock meet her covered pussy.

You moved your hands onto her ass and then lower onto her thighs, before you lift her up. She shrieked and the two of you laughed, taking a break from the kiss, before resuming the kiss as you walked towards the professor's desk.

You sat down on the chair as Yeri moved her hands down towards your pants, unbuckling your pants and dropping it, pulling out your hard cock. She spat on her hand and started stroking your cock, as you moved your hands towards her tits, lowering her top as you play with her right tits. "Y/nnie, fast or slow?" Yeri asked. "Let's take it slow, just for today." You replied, and she nodded. She then got off you, to your disappointment, but she then got on her knees and started stroking your cock again before putting it inside her mouth.

"Mmmmh" She moaned, slurping your cock slowly, putting the most inside her mouth and stroking the part that doesn't fit. She starts moving her head up and down, and you were left in amazement on how good her blowjob skills were. You grabbed her hair and held it on a ponytail before you control her speed and move faster, getting closer to your orgasm.

"I can feel you getting close to cumming, where do you want to finish?" Yeri asked. "Your tits babygirl." You replied, groaning in the process due to her speed and skills. As you got close, you immediately pulled out and she starts jerking your cock off fastly, before making you explode all over her tits. After you finished cumming, you saw how much you came all over her tits and lower chest. She then took some off her chest and licked it, tasting it.

"I swear, you look like the hottest person in the world everytime you do that." You complimented her. "Thanks for that daddy, but I need my payment NOW." She replied.

You smirked, before lifting her up, grabbing her thighs and putting her on the desk. You looked at her one last time, smirking before you put your right thumb over her clit, rubbing it as you dive into her pussy. You licked her pussy for a couple of times, as well as kissing it a few times before you start sucking her pussy intensely. "FUCK. Keep that up daddy." Yeri moaned loudly. You kept on repeating your process, kiss, lick and suck multiple times before you inserted your left finger into her pussy, fingering her as you suck her pussy. "FUCK baby that's so good, keep it up please, I'm cumming. AHHH!" Yeri moaned loudly one last time before her pussy convulsed massively and tightened before she squirted. I stopped fingering her and started intensely rubbing her clit as I swallowed her cum.

After she finished cumming, I stand up and leaned into her, kissing her on the lips as she kissed back. I then grabbed the condom which was on the table and unpacked it. As I was about to roll it on my cock, Yeri took the condom. "Let me." She said. She spat on her hand and jerked my cock before rolling the condom on my cock. She then jerked my cock again before she gave me the nod, giving me confirmation that she's ready.

I started making out with her again before thrusting into her. I stayed inside her for a few seconds before pulling out and putting it in inside her again, each time going deeper. "Faster." Yeri instructed after a few minutes. I smirked and started thrusting into her faster. "Ahhh, yeah that's it." Yeri moaned. I started leaning down onto her right collarbone, kissing it first before sucking on it, leaving hickeys. I moved my right hand onto her clit, rubbing it furiously as I rubbed her left tits with my left hands. Her pussy started getting tighter quickly. "Y/n I'm cumming AHHHH." Yeri moaned as she came, HARD. You manage to not cum and stay inside her as you feel how much she clenched her pussy.

After she finished cumming, you stared at her, looking at her post-orgasm afterglow, and at that moment, you felt in sync with her, one heart, and you realized that she is the most beautiful women you've met in your life. You then pulled out of her before sitting on the chair. "Come here." You instructed Yeri, and she followed. She sat on your thighs and she lifted herself, aligning herself with my pussy before she lowered herself on my cock, both of us moaning due to how tight her pussy is.

She didn't waste anytime, readjusting herself before she starts moving on your cock. You held her hips as you kissed her tits, before moving up to her collarbone, sucking it and leaving a hickey on both sides. She slows her pace down, and instead moves around your dick more often, making sure that your cock hit every part of her insides.

"I'm almost there." You said, moaning in pleasure as you kissed her neck. "Wait for me, let's cum together." Yeri replied, moaning, as she increase her pace, moving her left hand to her clit and her right to your scalp, caressing it. You noticed what she was doing, and moved your right hand to her clit, rubbing it harder, making sure she climaxes again.

"AHHHHH." Yeri moaned loudly, tightening her pussy and squirting out her cum, which causes a chain effect and made you cum deep inside her as well. You grabbed her face, making out with her as you both cum.

After the two of you finished cumming, you lifted her off your cock and helped clean her up, helping her into her top again, before you took off the condom, wrapping it in tissue and throwing it to the bin. She was about to leave the room before you caught up to her, turning her around and kissing her on the lips, before you left her inside the room.

[kitsuvil]

— stay w me; genshin date hcs [gn! reader] part 1

characters; tartaglia, neuvillette, zhongli, itto, heizou, scaramouche

warnings/notes; modern au, tooth rotting fluff, pre-established relationship, gn! reader, ajax & heizou's part have a kiss, murder/dead body joke in ittos

summary; your genshin boy invites you on a date, sorta ghibli and city pop style. part 1!

AJAX ! — windy summer by anri

☆ ajax acts like he's just casually asking you out for a date but you can tell just from his tone while texting that he expects you to be there & would be really butthurt if you're not available

☆ “lyubov. it's my one free day, we're going smh”

☆ i imagine he's pretty busy with work and it's definitely a tasking job where he's in a higher position so he doesn't actually get this chance often, so when he asks you out on a date you're immediately up for it. how could you say no when his puppy dog eyes are visible even through text?

☆ he probably doesn't tell you what the date is but tells you when to be ready. since his full day is free, he's picking you up early in the morning. definitely takes you out for coffee or tea & if you didn't have breakfast, that too!

☆ which connects to the fact that i really think half the day would just be him confirming that gift giving is his love language. clothes here, jewelry there, something for your hobbies over yonder

☆ the car (which mind you is incredibly nice. if he has money, why would he not use it for himself and those around him?) is just stuffed with gifts. especially bc i think most of the date day would be him taking you around town? all the shops and everything, but it's all preparation for the real date

☆ somewhere in between all the places you visit in the city, ajax gets a phone call from work. but without a second's hesitation, he turns his phone off and ignores the call.

☆ “aren't you going to pick that up? i'm sure it's important.”

☆ “they know what today is. my attention is only on you, dear. my coworkers can handle it on their own. it's not like they're incapable, they're just lazy and they'll be fine.”

☆ and suddenly you're blushing because the way he looked at you when he said his attention is only on you? it makes you fully believe his words.

☆ when the time for sunset grows closer, both of you grow quieter. both for different reasons. he's about to take you to the final spot and you're probably getting a little sleepy after a long day tbh.

☆ “you can sleep in my arms tonight, just hold on a bit, lyubov.”

☆ both of you yawning as you pull into a parking lot, but it only hits you where you are after you get out of the car.

☆ “You took us to the beach?” Your mouth drops open a little in pleasant shock. It's not like the beach was something you could never go to, but it was rare to be there with Ajax. Something that felt extra sentimental. It had you reminiscing about the first time you two met, underneath a setting sun and with crashing waves in the backdrop. Looking out over the horizon now as the red sun reflected on the ocean wasn't so unlike that first meeting.

“I thought it would be a nice break from the usual rush of things if I took us here,” Ajax sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, a little bit taken aback by how obviously enthralled you were. While he often got to see joy sparkling on your face, it was almost never this meaningful. It made his own heart melt a little, knowing that he made the right choice coming here.

"It is. I can't believe there's so few people here to see this beautiful sunset."

"I think if there were many people here, the sunset would be long forgotten about. They'd all be distracted by your beauty instead," Ajax paused for a moment. "Just like I am right now."

Looking back at him, it was clear he was saying the truth. His eyes were a reflection of your heart, all your inner workings, and the deep emotions you felt for him. That you both felt for each other. So much to the point that when you grew closer to each other and your lips touching made imaginary fireworks go off, neither of you had a single thought running through your heads.

NEUVILLETTE! — i'm in love by tomoko aran

♡ neuvi would probably be a little hesitant at first asking you out on a date? it's like. you've already been together for so much time and this isn't a first, but every time he wants to make the date perfect so he's a little over-cautious. he refuses to miss the details.

♡ probably asks you in person. he wouldn't want to ask in text for multiple reasons. one, he can't see your reaction immediately if it's in text, two, it wouldn't feel real enough? to him. if anything, he might even hesitate more. it's in this aspect that he's a bit of a perfectionist.

♡ plans the date like weeks in advance. when you realize what it is, it makes a lot more sense why he felt that he needed so much time.

♡ "i managed to acquire some tickets to an opera show happening soon. since we're both free on that day, i was wondering if you'd do me the honor of joining me?"

♡ definitely an opera that he knows you'd like. he's often willing to sacrifice his own tastes for you and it goes to show his devotion. not to mention, sometimes your tastes in these things align anyway! so it's probably a show he knows both of you would like. best of both worlds because he knows most people wouldn't go to an opera out of the blue anyway, but he knows from experience that you're willing to do anything with him. (me too)

♡ MATCHING OUTFITS. his heart would melt. it doesn't have to be something super obvious, and i don't think he'd like it if it drew too much attention to you both anyway, but something really cute. he probably wears an accessory that reminds him of you in his day to day already and this is only the step up from that in formal outfits lolol

♡ before the show starts (ehem, you two obviously got the best seats in the house) i think he'd geek out to you for a little about the place itself and the show/cast you're about to see and you just listen with stars in your eyes. it's nice to see him talk about hobbies and interests when he's rarely focused on you instead of himself or worried about his other priorities.

♡ midway through the show, your wrist slowly moves towards the seat beside you until your arm is fully snaked together with neuvi's. if you look over, there's a slight flush over his cheeks. it's not at all obvious with the darkened lightning of the building, but the lights coming from the stage illuminate his face and his beautiful eyes instead.

♡ after the show ends and everyone is clapping and leaving, your hands are connected to each other's again. they don't separate until long after you both leave the building. even if neuvillette isn't always fond of pda, this time it fills his heart with warmth, and he can't help but enjoy it.

♡ he stops by a café for evening tea after, paying for both of your drinks.

♡ "Here's your green tea and (tea of choice)! Let us know if you need anything else!" The staff left just as quickly as they had arrived. You and Neuvillette were silent for a while, but it wasn't that awkward kind of silence that made you want to run away from a situation. It was comfortable. It was a silence that spoke both a million words but also none.

"Thank you for inviting me to the opera show and doing all this for me. It's been such a fun date, Neuvi!" You broke it first. "Even more fun for me than you. Getting to take you somewhere is far more than enough to make me happy," the corners of Neuvillette's mouth turned up into a smile. He took a sip of his tea before speaking again. "I thought it would be nice to bond over a form of entertainment, and what better option than this show. I know you were talking about it recently, too."

"You're so kind to not forget my blabberings, even when I forget them myself. It was a really enjoyable show, but a thousand times better just because you were there. Thank you."

Up until now, you never realized how easy it was to get a slight blush from the white-haired man. But there he was again, his cheeks a different tone from the rest of his skin. You wouldn't trade this for anything.

ZHONGLI! — sweet love by junko ohashi

◆ zhongli is straightforward about asking you out on a date. he acts a little bit 'sneaky' about it at first, but it doesn't take long until he's asking if you're available soon to visit a park. he won't give the location, but gives you all the other details you'd need instead. warns you that it's a bit of a drive to get there, but that the views are worth it.

◆ he wanted to leave earlier in the morning but when he sees you sleeping so soundly, he can't help to extend it to a bit later. the park can wait. atleast until he finishes preparing breakfast for you and packing everything for the trip, so that when you wake up you only need to focus on getting yourself ready (but he acts so casual about it like he didn't just do everything at once)

◆ "your tea is going to get cold by the time you finish staring at me. yes, everything is already prepared for us to leave." he's definitely proud of himself and so subtly flaunting it. he loves making you smile the most.

◆ there's already a pillow waiting in the passenger seat for you so you can rest easy during the ride. even if you offer to take the wheel instead, he'll just raise an eyebrow and say, "but you don't know where we're going, do you?" and just leaves you huffing in response

◆ eventually, you're both silent. probably with some music playing in the background but you're stuck staring outside. the surroundings had already turned from town to fields a bit ago & it makes you smile at the calm atmosphere

◆ "you're smiling to yourself over there but not telling me why?"

◆ "is loving you not reason enough to make me smile?" you tease.

◆ his eyes return to the road, and his hands on the wheel stiffen up a bit. it's such a subtle change that most people wouldn't pick up on it, but you know exactly how he reacts when you catch him off guard. zhongli is flustered.

◆ you wake up from a nap you didn't even realize you fell into, zhongli slowly tapping you awake. there's a bag you unhaul from the car with what you assume to be trailing necessities and then follow zhongli to the path

◆ he probably explains what route he chose because it's not the main one, he's the type to go for a "lesser known" path. it's paved in dirt and there's some fallen branches or leaning trees. some bushes that taunt you with spikes if you get too close

◆ and it's obvious that if you're not careful enough, you'll end up trip- and would you look at that, you're falling.

◆ but before you can make contact with the grass, zhongli's arms are wrapped around you tightly. of course he'd catch you, you sighed in relief.

◆ "i'm not sure if you're trying to get injured, or if this is your way at hinting that you want a piggyback ride for the rest of the walk."

◆ you pout in response, knowing that neither is the truth and zhongli knows that too. you continue on the trail (which fortunately doesn't seem to be taking too long. zhongli knows your limits and the fact that not everyone is a hiking fanatic... sometimes, him included) that's pleasantly unpopulated save for the animals. like birds chirping in the treetops that fill the silence whenever zhongli isn't talking about this plant and that plant.

◆ a clearing in the trees comes up in front of you, but you don't realize what it actually is until you make it out of the dense forest.

◆ With a deep breath in and out, you take in your surroundings. "I didn't realize this trail was on a mountain. When did we drive up a mountain?" There is no longer stretch after stretch of trees but instead, a large open view of what's below the cliffside. It looks out over nearby towns, forests, and fields. Flowers dot the fields like little specks of glitter, and the sun shines down light for them.

"You were asleep for quite a while, weren't you? Come, there's a picnic table nearby."

Upon sitting down, you realize what exactly was in that bag Zhongli had you bring. He unpacked multiple containers holding food inside of them, setting them onto the picnic table. "When did you have the time to make all this?" You questioned, a little shocked.

"I'm afraid that if I tell you, you'll scold me," he spoke as he opened the containers.

"I get the feeling you're telling me the truth." It wasn't the first time Zhongli spent all his free time on you. Part of him found that what fufilled him the most was making you happy, so he was alright with giving up time that could be spent alone. For so much of his years, he still felt alone even with people around him. You filled that loneliness.

"Isn't it lovely?" Zhongli's voice brought you out of your thoughts. "The view?" You gazed at him longingly.

"It's like a breath of fresh air or a change of pace. Seeing the world around us makes things slow down, and so does your presence."

He wasn't wrong. In a world that runs faster than an hourglass or a clock, Zhongli was the only one who made things feel normal.

ITTO! — slow motion by akina nakamori

★ “love!! are you free this weekend? i maybe have a surprise for you :P” text from him out of the blue bc why would he ever not be spontaneous

★ when the day comes he's ushering you into the car, and honestly looks more excited than you yourself for the date

★ the drive takes a bit as you guys exit the city and head for a more rural area, but quickly the surroundings grow from unfamiliar back to familiar again

★ he can't hold on any longer so even when you're not there yet, “surprise!! we're visiting my home town!” and you have to pretend to not have realized it multiple roads ago. “we haven't been in so long, i'm glad you chose this for our date”

★ last time you two went, you ended up returning home with the fullest bellies but also hearts. so your expectations were comfortably high

★ pulling up into the town is just a bunch of “hey itto! how's it been?” from each person that recognizes him (a lot)

★ before you reach your actual destination, the two of you get stopped in the town by an older lady. she invites you for lunch and how could you say no? even though she runs a restaurant, the meal is on the house. the lady doesn't even hide the grin on her face as she ‘whines’ about the many times itto got in trouble with her when he was younger.

★ “but granny, that kitty was really going to steal all the food, i was just trying to catch it! i didn't mean to break your dishes…”

★ “maybe that's why you were always told to tell an adult, weren't you?”

★ itto finds it hard to pull away when you're finally finished with your food and ready to leave, so you have to tug him a little back to the driver's seat

★ but you don't realize the goal for this date was different than the previous times you visited. he parks at a place you don't fully recognize but urges you to get out anyway. if it was anyone other than itto, you'd question if he was taking you down to do something suspicious. like have you help him hide a dead body.

★ running down the hill and through the trees though, you both quickly came across a river next to a large tree.

★ and so, itto introduces this as his secret hiding spot that he spent so much of his childhood in. surprisingly, most of it is left in great condition, and it's like the timeline of memories had just paused here. it felt like if you blinked, suddenly at you'd spot a tiny itto running around. not that this itto had changed from the young itto that was equally rambunctious.

★ You ran your fingers along the bark of the tree that covered the hiding place. It seemed really tiny to someone your size, but to a young child, it would've been the perfect spot. “Look, I can still stick in half of my body!!” Itto laughs while maneuvering his way through the hideout. “Before you get stuck, maybe. You've grown so much since being young, more than the normal person, silly.”

“Just because I'm tall and strong shouldn't mean I'm not allowed to have any childlike wonder,” he pouted as he removed himself from the hideout and crossed his arms. “When did anyone say that ever? You wouldn't be Itto if you were missing any traits that made me like you as much as I do.”

Your words had him dumbfounded for a moment, so much that a faint blush appeared on his cheeks, and anything he wanted to say before fell off his tongue.

“You're not allowed to say things like that,” he murmured. “How come?” There was a mischievous glint in your eyes. “It makes my stomach feel funky,” Itto admitted.

You found that now it was your turn to blush. “Come, let me show you the rock collection I gathered,” he quickly changed the topic even though the romantic tension in the air still lingered. “When you were young or just now? I can't predict you,” you let out a chuckle. “Hey!! I mean, making a rock collection now doesn't sound too bad but‐”

“Then let's do it. There's a really pretty rock over there to start with.”

HEIZOU! — shyness boy by anri

● sends you a photo of tickets to karaoke with no other context. “are you coming 🥹”

● how could you say no?? you're more than ready. and clearly heizou is too because when you both get to see each other, you're flabbergasted. maybe both dressed too nicely for karaoke, but for each other, maybe it's ok.

● he's probably wearing not exactly formal clothes but something that makes him extremely attractive (not that he wasn't already to begin with and you know it). dressed to impress(you)!!

● heizou probably messing around with some part of his clothes because he didn't realize he's actually kinda nervous to sing in front of you til now. but considering how talented he is at hiding his real feelings, it's not something you pick up on

● at least not until you're in the karaoke booth he rented out and one of you has to go and pick a song already. neither of you want to stand up and actually go sing

● “woooo” he howls into the mic awkwardly bc at least if you guys don't sing, he can make up for it by acting funny

● “do you want to pick a song?” you strike while the iron is hot. successfully forcing him to get up and pick a song because why would he put the pressure on you instead? he decides he has to man up

● probably sings a meme song to start off. it lightens the mood, so much that you join in too

● so it's not long before both of you are messing around, snacking on some treats you ordered for the room

● justin bieber. duh “and i was like baby baby baby oooo, baby baby baby nooo”

● until you get serious and pick a song you actually really like. totally not a love song that you'd like to direct to heizou, wdym?

● heizou is the type to blush really aggressively. there's one thing he's incredibly weak to and it's the knowledge that his people actually care for him and his crush actually likes him back

● of course, you guys have been together longer than you being just a “crush” but it solidifies the fact that no matter what stage of the relationship you're in, heizou will always consider you like a first love. the amount of butterflies in his tummy has never receded and it never will.

● which is why as you serenade him, he looks completely lulled by your voice. you could be a siren and he'd ask you to take him down with you. it's so clear in his body language and expression that he'd to anything at all for you

● “And when were you going to tell me you could sing like that, darling?” Heizou pretends to wipe a tear from his face as he applauds you. The timing of it is comedic because half of his actions are just him trying to cover up the fact that you had him fully under your spell.

“Whenever I discovered it, which happens to be now,” you giggled at his reaction. His flushed face didn't go unnoticed even one bit and you were prepared to tease him about it like your life depended on it. “Clearly, it gave you a bit of a shock too.”

Heizou's eyes looked almost glazed over and you knew that you had touched where it affected him the most. “Don't read me like a book, I know no such thing as shock.” He pouted and yet it only made you fall harder.

“I know something I can do that'll make you admit to being shocked.”

“And what would that be?”

You stepped closer towards Heizou. There was less than a second in between that and now, with your lips up against his and karaoke entirely forgotten. It was a rare occurrence that you guys shared a kiss for it never felt right—but as Heizou’s soft lips moved against yours, both of you knew that there was no better time than now.

SCARAMOUCHE! — 4:00am by taeko ohnuki

♥︎ scara calls you in the middle of the night knowing neither of you are asleep yet. his voice is all raspy and tired but you can tell he has something important to say

♥︎ “have you been outside tonight?”

♥︎ you curiously say no. what reason could he have for this specific of a question?

♥︎ “be ready in 10. i'm taking you to the park”

♥︎ this doesn't surprise you too much. scara was never one to make elaborate plans for going out, rather tiny things like this. so you hopped out of bed to get ready

♥︎ he was at your place in record time and upon getting into the car you spotted a few blankets and snacks in the back seat.

♥︎ “i know you're going to ask what they're for. we're going stargazing.”

♥︎ now this catches you off guard. “stargazing? at 2 am?”

♥︎ “did you want to wait until the sun has risen and the stars are all gone?”

♥︎ “fair.” but you couldn't hide the smile that crept up your face when you pictured scara doing something as romantic as stargazing. he'd glare at you if you actually said it to his face, but sometimes his heart feels so soft it makes you want to hug him out of adoration

♥︎ “What's so special about the stars tonight that makes you want to bring us both out here?” You ask while both of you work together to lay down a blanket and the snacks. “Other than the fact the moon isn't shining like someone who turned on their brights in the middle of the night? Nothing, really. I just felt like it,” Scaramouche shrugs before settling down on the blanket beside you.

“The sky is really pretty so I think that's fair. Is this your technique for making us feel sleepy, though?”

“If it works, then it works. Look at the constellation over there,” he points towards the sky.

“It's Ursa Minor, the little dipper, right?”

“Yeah. That one star is-” He pauses as his eyebrows furrow, “Hold on.” Scaramouche sits up from the ground, squinting his eyes.

“If you're seeing what I’m seeing… That's a falling star, right?”

“It was only there for a second, but it was definitely a falling star.”

“Did you take a moment to wish on it?” You questioned.

“Why would I wish on a falling star when I have everything I need already? That being you, of course.”

— this was a nightmare to format and write (lost half of zhongli's part at one point and had to rewrite it, tumblr refused to work w me and had to remove my line dividers, accidentally posted it before it was ready... a nightmare, truly) so i hope everyone enjoys it!! listen to the songs for each character for immersion if you'd like <3 and most important of all, ENJOY THE NEW GENSHIN UPDATE!! ILY

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[lurkingteapot]

Every now and then I think about how subtitles (or dubs), and thus translation choices, shape our perception of the media we consume. It's so interesting. I'd wager anyone who speaks two (or more) languages knows the feeling of "yeah, that's what it literally translates to, but that's not what it means" or has answered a question like "how do you say _____ in (language)?" with "you don't, it's just … not a thing, we don't say that."

I've had my fair share of "[SHIP] are [married/soulmates/fated/FANCY TERM], it's text!" "[CHARACTER A] calls [CHARACTER B] [ENDEARMENT/NICKNAME], it's text!" and every time. Every time I'm just like. Do they though. Is it though. And a lot of the time, this means seeking out alternative translations, or translation meta from fluent or native speakers, or sometimes from language learners of the language the piece of media is originally in.

Why does it matter? Maybe it doesn't. To lots of people, it doesn't. People have different interests and priorities in fiction and the way they interact with it. It's great. It matters to me because back in the early 2000s, I had dial-up internet. Video or audio media that wasn't available through my local library very much wasn't available, but fanfiction was. So I started to read English language Gundam Wing fanfic before I ever had a chance to watch the show. When I did get around to watching Gundam Wing, it was the original Japanese dub. Some of the characters were almost unrecognisable to me, and first I doubted my Japanese language ability, then, after checking some bits with friends, I wondered why even my favourite writers, writers I knew to be consistent in other things, had made these characters seem so different … until I had the chance to watch the US-English dub a few years later. Going by that adaptation, the characterisation from all those stories suddenly made a lot more sense. And the thing is, that interpretation is also valid! They just took it a direction that was a larger leap for me to make.

Loose adaptations and very free translations have become less frequent since, or maybe my taste just hasn't led me their way, but the issue at the core is still a thing: Supernatural fandom got different nuances of endings for their show depending on the language they watched it in. CQL and MDZS fandom and the never-ending discussions about 知己 vs soulmate vs Other Options. A subset of VLD fans looking at a specific clip in all the different languages to see what was being said/implied in which dub, and how different translators interpreted the same English original line. The list is pretty much endless.

And that's … idk if it's fine, but it's what happens! A lot of the time, concepts -- expressed in language -- don't translate 1:1. The larger the cultural gap, the larger the gaps between the way concepts are expressed or understood also tend to be. Other times, there is a literal translation that works but isn't very idiomatic because there's a register mismatch or worse. And that's even before cultural assumptions come in. It's normal to have those. It's also important to remember that things like "thanks I hate it" as a sentiment of praise/affection, while the words translate literally quite easily, emphatically isn't easy to translate in the sense anglophone internet users the phrase.

Every translation is, at some level, a transformative work. Sometimes expressions or concepts or even single words simply don't have an exact equivalent in the target language and need to be interpreted at the translator's discretion, especially when going from a high-context/listener-responsible source language to a low-context/speaker-responsible target language (where high-context/listener responsible roughly means a large amount of contextual information can be omitted by the speaker because it's the listener's responsibility to infer it and ask for clarification if needed, and low-context/speaker-responsible roughly means a lot of information needs to be codified in speech, i.e. the speaker is responsible for providing sufficiently explicit context and will be blamed if it's lacking).

Is this a mouse or a rat? Guess based on context clues! High-context languages can and frequently do omit entire parts of speech that lower-context/speaker-responsible languages like English regard as essential, such as the grammatical subject of a sentence: the equivalent of "Go?" - "Go." does largely the same amount of heavy lifting as "is he/she/it/are you/they/we going?" - "yes, I am/he/she/it is/we/you/they are" in several listener-responsible languages, but tends to seem clumsy or incomplete in more speaker-responsible ones. This does NOT mean the listener-responsible language is clumsy. It's arguably more efficient! And reversely, saying "Are you going?" - "I am (going)" might seem unnecessarily convoluted and clumsy in a listener-responsible language. All depending on context.

This gets tricky both when the ambiguity of the missing subject of the sentence is clearly important (is speaker A asking "are you going" or "is she going"? wait until next chapter and find out!) AND when it's important that the translator assign an explicit subject in order for the sentence to make sense in the target language. For our example, depending on context, something like "are we all going?" - "yes" or "they going, too?" might work. Context!

As a consequence of this, sometimes, translation adds things – we gain things in translation, so to speak. Sometimes, it's because the target language needs the extra information (like the subject in the examples above), sometimes it's because the target language actually differentiates between mouse and rat even though the source language doesn't. However, because in most cases translators don't have access to the original authors, or even the original authors' agencies to ask for clarification (and in most cases wouldn't get paid for the time to put in this extra work even if they did), this kind of addition is almost always an interpretation. Sometimes made with a lot of certainty, sometimes it's more of a "fuck it, I've got to put something and hope it doesn't get proven wrong next episode/chapter/ten seasons down" (especially fun when you're working on a series that's in progress).

For the vast majority of cases, several translations are valid. Some may be more far-fetched than others, and there'll always be subjectivity to whether something was translated effectively, what "effectively" even means …

ANYWAY. I think my point is … how interesting, how cool is it that engaging with media in multiple languages will always yield multiple, often equally valid but just sliiiiightly different versions of that piece of media? And that I'd love more conversations about how, the second we (as folks who don't speak the material's original language) start picking the subtitle or dub wording apart for meta, we're basically working from a secondary source, and if we're doing due diligence, to which extent do we need to check there's nothing substantial being (literally) lost -- or added! -- in translation?

[watchmegetobsessed]

Any chance you could do a famous single mum reader x Harry fic

since he’s a certified MILF lover

CRUSH

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SUMMARY: Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven't given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy's afterparty and you finally tell him why you're so adamant about keeping your distance.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry will forever remember tonight.

It’s his second time going home as a Grammy winner and nothing can ruin this experience for him, not even how his performance was ruined. He did it again and nothing else matters for now.

Or at least that’s how he should be feeling as he is celebrating with his friends and other winners and artists at the after party, but something keeps bugging him.

Just hours earlier he ran into you again and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind since then. It’s no surprise you were at the award show, even though you’re not a singer he could have expected to run into you at one of the most important nights of the year. Yet, he was still surprised to see you walk down the red carpet, but it might have been because you always have that effect on him no matter what.

If someone asked Harry who his celebrity crush was he would say you with no hesitation or remorse. He’s been enamored with you since the first time he met you at some other after party a few years ago. The two of you were introduced by a mutual friend and he stuck to your side for as long as possible, drinking up every word, every laughter and every look you gifted him with. He thought you were way out of his league, he still does, but that doesn’t stop him from yearning after you like a lovesick puppy every time your paths cross. Harry can’t tell how many times he tried to flirt with you before, but his flirty comments were met with soft rejection every time, you never seemed to be returning the gentle feelings and though it was devastating, he knew he could do nothing.

He could at least call you his friend, more or less. He definitely has a tither connection with you than with most people in this room, there’s a bigger circle of friends you both share so you end up meeting every few months without planning it and there are periods when you’re even texting.

He hasn’t talked to you for a while now, so seeing you brought his feelings back he’s been harboring for so long.

Now as he’s sipping on his drink he can’t help but keep looking around, trying to spot you in the crowd to no avail for now. He pulls out his phone and opens the message thread with you, rereading the last few texts he exchanged with you a while back. His thumb hovers over the screen, fighting the urge to hit you up with a message when an elbow meets his side. Looking up he sees Mitch beside him.

“Your crush is here,” he informs Harry with a knowing smirk, nodding towards the bar.

He follows his friend’s gaze and spots you only seconds later. You’ve changed out of your burgundy gown he saw you wearing earlier, sporting a chic pant suit this time, but you’re just as breathtaking as ever.

Mitch just chuckles when Harry gets up without a word and heads over to you. Pushing between guests he ignores everyone who might try to strike a conversation up with him until he finally reaches you.

“Y/N, hi!” he smiles at you warmly. You turn to face him with a cocktail in your hands, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Harry! What a nice surprise!” you chuckle. “Congrats on your wins!” You don’t hesitate to put an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug that he returns gladly.

“Thank you.”

“Though it was no surprise you won, the album is amazing.”

“You listened to it?”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Do you have a favorite?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“Hmm, probably… Satellite.”

“Great choice.”

The conversation keeps flowing and suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you even though it’s a crowded party that’s happening around you. Harry realizes that no matter how much time passes between each time he sees you, he will always catch himself falling for you over and over again. He tries to flirt with you this time as well and this is the first time he can feel like his rizz is not going straight over your head.

“Y/N, I need you to be very honest with me,” he starts, when you both had a few drinks. Neither of you is drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“About what?” you chuckle.

“Do I have a chance with you? For real, I’m not playing here,” he smirks, placing one hand to his chest, while holding up the other one, his half empty glass rising into the air.

You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you busy yourself with your own drink.

“Ah, it hurts!” he acts as if he was shot in the chest. “Am I that ugly and boring?”

“Of course, you’re not!” you roll your eyes.

“Okay, do you like me?”

“I do,” you admit, avoiding to look him in the eyes.

“Alright, then let’s take this conversation over to my place.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head.

“We can go to yours as well, I’m fine with that too,” Harry half jokes, but he notices that you’re not laughing. “Y/N, what is it then?”

“I need to get some air.” Jumping to your feet you leave your drink behind and head out to the back of the place that’s the smoking area, hoping to be alone for a bit, but Harry rushes after you, determined to get answers this time.

He finds you in a dark corner, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out into the void.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I went too far, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s… fine.”

“I just… fuck, I really like you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and… I couldn’t just not shoot my shot.”

“You’ve been shooting your shot for a long time.” He finally sees a tiny smile on your lips.

“So you did notice my attempts?” he grins. “Just chose to ignore them, I guess?”

“Harry, I can’t.”

“Can’t ignore them anymore?”

“No. I can’t date you.”

“Can’t as in…?”

Sighing, your head falls back, against the wall as you close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them and finally looking at him.

“I don’t date.”

“Why?”

“Because of Arian.”

The picture is finally crystal clear in Harry’s head. You’re depriving yourself from dating because of your son.

It’s no news to Harry that you’re a mother, he has even met your five year-old son, but he never thought of him as the reason why you keep rejecting him. You keep your private life pretty hush hush, especially since you split from your ex, Arian’s father three years ago. No one knows why you called it quits and there’s actually no photo of the little boy online either, that’s how dedicated you are to protect him from the public. Harry completely understands it, but he doesn’t see why you can’t date because of Arian.

“The little guy doesn’t want to share you with anyone else?” he tries to joke.

“I’m a single mother who is also an actress. My life is complicated enough without dates and boyfriends.”

“Woah, we’re only talking about one boyfriend,” Harry puts his hands to his chest. You crack a smile, but it’s not as genuine as he would want it to be.

“It’s just not the right time for me to start dating again. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a little hurt you’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’m sure dating a single mother is not exactly your dream either.”

“Y/N, I haven’t even thought about it until you brought it up. Arian is a cool little guy and I have no problem with you being a mother.”

“You will at one point, trust me,” you scoff and Harry tries not to take it personal. You’re just trying to protect yourself and your son, it’s not against him.

“What if I prove that it’s fine? That I’m not just some random guy who will come and go?”

Staring back at him you chew on his words as you tilt your head to the side.

“We’ll see.”

At first the peace and quiet takes over your waking mind. You feel a gentle breeze from the window you left open for the night and you stretch long underneath the silky covers when it finally dawns on you.

It’s peaceful. And quiet. You haven’t had a morning like this in about… well, five years. Arian loves to wake you up whenever you’re home, jumping on the mattress, or just cuddling to you, either way, he never misses a chance to spend a morning with you.

So where is he now?

Slight panic rushes through your veins as you quickly wrap yourself in your silky robe and head out to find your baby. All the worst case scenarios flash through your mind, but they dissolve the moment you reach the stairs and hear his laughter coming from the kitchen. With careful steps you approach the source of his voice that’s mixed with another one, a more mature male voice that you don’t recognize at first but when you round the corner and see what’s happening in your kitchen, recognition washes over you.

Harry Styles is making pancakes in your kitchen with your son. And they are making a big mess, but Arian seems to be enjoying it. Music is playing in the background and there’s a ginormous bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island. Your heart flutters in your chest as you walk closer.

“Mommy!” Arian notices you and climbing off his stool he runs over to you and you gladly pick him up into your arms.

“Hey baby, what’s… what’s happening here?”

“Harry is making us pancakes!” He throws his hands up into the air in excitement as you walk over to the kitchen island and sit him down on top of it.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he smiles at you so charmingly, it’s hard to focus on the fact that he is in your house on a Saturday morning.

“Hi, what do you… Um, what are you doing here?”

“Mommy, I told you, he is making us pancakes!” Arian giggles.

“I know, baby. Hey, you’re still in your pajamas, why don’t you go up and change?” You help him off the counter and gently push him towards the stairs. He runs off singing to himself.

“Before you throw me out,” Harry starts, holding the spatula up, “You told me to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That it’s fine that you’re a mom. So, this is our first date, in your house, with your son, so you don’t have to worry about him or get a babysitter.”

“How did you even get into my house?” you chuckle in disbelief. You’re definitely touched by the gesture, you don’t like to spend time away from Arian when you’re not working.

Grinning, he starts flipping the pancakes in the pan.

“Well, I might or might not have contacted your agent who hooked me up with your housekeeper who let me in this morning.”

“Wow, my own staff betrayed me,” you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say betrayed. They both were happy to help me, because they want what’s best for you.”

“And that would be you?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at his cockiness. He shrugs, but his smirk tells it all.

“Look,” he sighs, turning the stove off. “I really did mean it. I don’t care that you’re a mom. It’s all good, it’s part of you. I don’t want to just come and go in your and Arian’s life. Just give me a chance to prove that it could work.”

He must have some kind of magic power over you, because he really just waltzed in here, made some pancakes and convinced you to change your mind.

“Arian will always come first for me, Harry.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he nods.

“That means that even in my limited free time, you’ll most likely have to share me with him. I’m not the type to let nannies and babysitters raise my child.”

“And I love that about you. Arian is lucky to have you as his mother.”

Staring back at him you want to say no, but you simply can’t. It’s impossible.

“Okay,” is all you say.

“Okay as in… You’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes, but don’t fuck it up,” you chuckle as Harry walks closer and his hands find your waist, pulling you closer. It’s the first time he is physically this close to you, but it feels like he’s been doing it since forever, like you belong in his arms.

“Never,” he smirks and as he leans closer you hear a pair of tiny feet running down the stairs, so you step back just in time for Arian’s return.

“Give me the pancakes!” he giggles, climbing up to a stool and you smile at Harry.

“See, he is already cockblocking you,” you whisper to him chuckling.

“Touché,” he sighs with a smirk. “But he is cute, so it’s alright.” Shaking it all off he turns to Arian as he places the pancakes on a plate. “So, what do you want on top?”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is. 

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet. 

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still. 

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.” 

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—” 

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother. 

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.” 

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue. 

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement. 

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify. 

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma. 

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body. 

And just age in general. 

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly. 

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is. 

Gifts.

From Joe. 

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery. 

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands. 

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent. 

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently. 

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan. 

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.” 

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.” 

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls. 

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”  

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.” 

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.” 

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.” 

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone. 

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected. 

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy. 

 If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed. 

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us. 

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text. 

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her. 

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants. 

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath. 

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away. 

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her. 

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now. 

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town. 

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings. 

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap. 

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?” 

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to. 

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit. 

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no. 

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you. 

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.” 

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.” 

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.” 

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid. 

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter. 

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that. 

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.  

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say?  No wonder she was crabby this morning. 

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter. 

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one. 

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school. 

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years. 

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is.  Was about that. 

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade. 

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂 

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you. 

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door. 

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject. 

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking. 

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously? 

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around. 

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic. 

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply. 

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad. 

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly. 

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well. 

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity. 

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset. 

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything. 

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet. 

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better. 

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial. 

Usually. 

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.” 

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N. 

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky. 

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see. 

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well. 

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis with Benefits - Part 2

Summary: “You come over to help your friend with setting up their new couch, but soon you find out that you weren’t the only one

Wc: 4.6k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: mention of blood and cheating. loads of banter and tension…

A/N: Hey guys! Here is the second part of Nemesis with Benefits! The tension is brewing and it’s stirring up nothing but confusion!!! I’m so excited about this series, and I’m so grateful to see it getting such a good response. Enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

From Benjamin:

HELP I CANT GET MY COUCH TOGETHER😭

Can someone pls come over and help?

You stare at the text messages Benjamin sent in the group chat. You are quick to open your agenda app to see if you are free to help your friend. Before you can even text Benjamin that you're available, and will come over soon, he calls you. You pick up.

"Help!" Benjamin's panicked voice sounds from the other side of the line. "If I have to tackle this couch alone for one more minute, I'm gonna kill someone. And since the couch and I are the only things in the room, it's probably gonna be me!"

You stifle a laugh. "I was just about to text you that I'll come over. Stay there. Don't move, and don't kill yourself."

"I'll try." Benjamin whines dramatically. You roll your eyes as you hang up on your friend, and grab your headphones and jacket.

Within two minutes, you are outside your building and walking to Benjamin's apartment. He moved into an apartment building off campus this summer. A couple of weeks ago his couch—which was already on the verge of breaking—broke, and he had to order a new one. Not that he minded; he loved shopping for anything. He'd always join you whenever you would run errands.

It takes no more than ten minutes to get to Benjamin's apartment building, though, because it is quite close to campus. Plus, you are a fast walker, so you are always a couple of minutes faster.

You ring the doorbell and Benjamin lets you into the building. After riding the elevator, you walk to Benjamin's apartment. He is already waiting in the doorway and gives you a big hug once you're within reach.

"Oh thank God you're here!" He exclaims, hugging you so tight that it is getting hard to breathe. "You are truly the only reliable friend I have around here."

"I'm happy to be of help, babe." You choke out a laugh, pulling out of the embrace, and walking past Benjamin into his living room.

“Now, let’s see what this evil couch is about…”

************************************************

30 minutes later

"How did you manage, out of all couches in the world, to buy the most complex and pain in the ass one?!" You huff, a drop of sweat running down your forehead. You are sitting crisscross applesauce, hunched over, trying to figure out the way this stupid couch is set up.

You managed to get halfway before getting stuck. Step 17 was the devil in disguise, and it had you developing lower back pain and a stress induced headache. Still, you were determined to figure it out. Benjamin asked you for help, and if the help couldn't manage to assemble this couch, you knew he would leave this unfinished for weeks.

"The people at the store said it was easy!" Benjamin protests with a sigh.

"Yeah, maybe for people who sell couches for a living. Not for broke students who prepare all their food in the microwave!" You say, frowning at the couch. Benjamin's killing comment from earlier isn't seeming as dramatic as it did before. You might just throw this couch—or yourself—out the window.

There's a faint knock on the front door. You aren't sure if there is even someone there, but the way Benjamin skips to the door washes the doubt away.

"Hey! What are you doing here?!" Benjamin's voice sounds slightly distressed. You look up to see who he let in, and your face falters immediately at the sight of Harry walking into the living room.

"You said you needed help, so I—" Harry stops talking once he spots you too, and he sighs. Your eyes widen. He has the nerve to actually sigh? What a douchebag!

"I'm going to the bathroom." You say, glaring Harry down as you move out of the living room. You hear some footsteps behind you, and you know that Benjamin is following you. You let him enter the bathroom with you, and turn around as he closes the door.

"I can't believe you would let him come over while I'm here!" You cross your arms. You are quite upset with Benjamin, but even more so with Harry. The sole sight of his smug face sets you off. He annoys you to no end.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know! I texted him, and he never responded. He just comes over without warning a lot. This wasn't intentional, I swear." Benjamin explains, and you can tell that he's sincere. Benjamin can be almost as much of a pain in the butt as his stupid couch, but he would never intentionally hurt you. But Harry would, and he did.

"I just..." you take a deep breath before you make the confession you've been bothered with for a while now. "Harry hurt me, a lot. And you're still friends with him..."

It's Benjamin's turn to sigh. He grabs your arms and levels with you, searching for your eyes.

"Harry is on the bench." He tells you, like you are supposed to know what that means.

"You know we're building you a couch, not a bench—"

"No, dumbass!" Benjamin interrupts you. "Harry's on the friendship bench. He was demoted to second string. He ain't playing in the game that I call my inner circle."

You sigh. "Okay, could you just leave the metaphors for a second and tell me what you mean—"

"I punched him." He shrugs as if it is as simple as ever. You, however, have your mouth hanging wide open.

"You punched Harry?"

"Of course I did. What he did to you was beyond shitty, and he totally deserved it." Benjamin confirms, and your heart sinks at the fact that you doubted his loyalty to you in the first place. "But Harry has been one of my best friends since high school. And what happened— well... let's just say that the story is not totally black and white."

That makes you feel a bit offended. "What is not black and white about this situation? Dylan cheated, Harry participated."

"I agree, that part is black and white. That's why I punched him." He nods his head. "Now, you can go home, and I will try and assemble this stupid couch with him. I totally understand that you don't want to stay here."

"No!" You say angrily. Benjamin's eyebrows crease into a frown, almost as surprised as you by your drive to stay here.

"But—"

"Why?! So he can brag about the couch that I basically put together?!" You murmur as you cross your arms, eyes squinting a bit at the thought of him walking around with that inflated ego of his. There is absolutely no way he is getting another something of yours, again!

"Y/N, it's just a couch—" Benjamin tries to argue, but you won't hear of it.

"This is not about the stupid couch!" You blurt out. This shuts him up. He stares at you for a few seconds with this look in his eyes that reads 'go home, don't do this'. But you don't feel like listening, so you walk past him, out of the bathroom and back into the living room.

"I don't think this is a good idea!" Benjamin calls out from the bathroom.

"Too bad!" You call back. Benjamin is right on your heels and right next to you by the time you stand in front of Harry again. He has already seated himself in the place where you were sitting just now. He's got the manual in one hand and a screw driver in the other.

"I fixed the problem. You were using the wrong screws." Harry says, the comment more directed at Benjamin than at you. But you take it personally anyway, because you are the one who selected the screws. You walk over to him and snatch the manual out of his hands.

"I read it five times, I definitely used the right—" upon reading step 17 for the fifth time, you finally see the name of the screws you were supposed to use. Your brain tends to mash up words after a while, and all the screws' names really read alike.

When you look up from the piece of paper, you see Harry smirking at you. He knows he's right, and he knows you know he's right, and that makes you incredibly angry. He shouldn't be allowed to be right, ever. Not in front of you, at least.

With a groan, you sit yourself down next to Harry and snatch the screwdriver out of his hand before burying your nose into the manual again. You mutter a small profanity under your breath, and Harry just scoffs at the sound of it.

This is gonna be a long evening...

************************************************

"Fuck." Harry curses, mainly to himself, when the leg of the couch doesn't stay in place once again. He has tried three times now, not letting you help him.

"I told you to—"

"Shut up." Harry growls, not even sparing a glance at you. He is heavily concentrating on his failing work.

"This could be solved quicker if you'd just listen to me." You tell him, reaching towards the sofa table where you've put all the screws and other necessary stuff for building this couch.

"No. This could be solved quicker if you'd just let me look at the manual." Harry responds. You squint at him, even though he can't see you. He'll feel the hate of your withering stare nonetheless.

You don't say anything, though, keeping yourself as you sort out the screws that lie in front of you. It has been an hour of sitting with Harry and trying to piece this couch together. So far you have had the upper hand, mainly because you have the manual.

Benjamin tried to help the first 30 minutes, but after being snarled at too many times, he resigned to cleaning his kitchen. So now you are sitting alone with Harry.

"Okay... done. What's next?" Harry asks, looking at you and the manual in your lap. You don't return the glance, still focused on counting the amount of screws you need.

"Wait."

Harry rolls his eyes. "If you'd just give me the stupid manual—"

"Damn it! Now I lost count." You look up and glare at Harry. "Could you shut up for a second?"

"Nope. Give me the manual." He crosses his arms. Leaning against the wall behind him. You shake your head. There is no way he is getting this piece of paper.

"No."

You go back to counting the screws, when all of a sudden the manual is snatched away from your lap. Your mouth falls open and your eyes follow the way Harry's hands take it away. You are about to cuss him out, when Benjamin's voice announces something from behind you.

"Guys, I have a class in twenty minutes, so I have to go. C'mon, I can finish the couch another time." He says and you don't miss the relief in his voice. He's probably already happy that his apartment didn't blow up in the first ten minutes of you and Harry being in the same room.

"It's fine. I can finish it up. Won't take long, now that I've got the manual and everything." Harry offers with a smile. Jaw clenched, you swallow his stupid comment and also turn to your friend.

"I'll stay too. Have to finish what I started."

There is no way in hell you're letting Harry get away with acting like he built this whole couch by himself, when it was actually just the step 17 and about five others after that.

"Oh, that's very sweet, but I don't know if—"

"We won't kill each other, I promise." I try to reassure him, hoping to get some backing from Harry about this.

"We won't?"

You turn around and give Harry your greatest death stare.

"I'm just saying, you were being pretty aggressive with that screwdriver just now." He puts his hands up defensively. You sigh, redirecting your attention back to your friend.

"Fine. I promise to refrain from impaling Harry's head with a screwdriver until we're outside of the apartment." You say.

"Yeah, that sounds more believable." Harry murmurs approvingly.

Benjamin looks at the two of you, thinking it over for a bit. Everything about his face reads that he thinks this is a bad idea. You don't blame him the slightest, but you let your eyes plead him to let you do this anyway. You need it. The exact reason why, you don't know. But... you just need this.

"Okay." Benjamin finally says, earning a smile from you. "Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. I'll be back in about two hours."

"Aye aye captain." You joke, giving your friend a hug before returning to the floor alongside Harry. You hear the rattling of the house keys Benjamin grabbed from the counter, and watch as he walks to his front door.

"Don't get blood on my new couch." He shouts just in time for the door to slam shut. You take a deep breath, the fact that you are alone with Harry now really kicking in.

It's fine. You can do this. He sucks.

"Can you tell me how many screws I needed again?" You ask, attempting to be as polite as you possibly can to the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with.

"I don't know, can I? Oh wait, of course I can. Because I have the manual." He taunts, flicking the pages to step 25. He reads and reads, and a smirk forms on his face as his head lifts up.

"Guess."

"Don't be an asshole. Just tell me, I want to get this over with." You say, your head tilting. The look in your eyes radiates seriousness, and for a moment you think Harry understands how you're feeling.

"Erm, that wasn't a guess, that was just words."

If it was physically possible to exert steam from your ears, you would've looked like an old train. You groan and lean forward to snatch the manual away from Harry, but he is quick to move it out of reach. He holds it over his head.

"Aw c'mon, it was just a joke!" Harry teases even further. You are seeing red with rage and it takes everything to not scream every foul word in the book at him.

"It's not funny!" You try to grab the paper again, but Harry is too swift for you.

"It kind of is."

"No it's not! Nothing about this is funny!" You suddenly snap. "I don't want to be here with you. I just want to finish building this stupid couch and go home, so please give me the manual."

"Then why are you still here?!" Harry inquires firmly, a deep frown knitted onto his face.

"Why are you?!" You fire back, frustrating grown with each second that your eyes bore into his.

"I asked you a question, Y/N. I told Benjamin I'd do it myself, you cannot stand me. There is no logical reason for you to still be here, so why the fuck are you?"

"Because I can't let you take another thing from me!"

You blurt out confession before you have a chance to stop yourself, and your cheeks instantly go red with embarrassment. Harry's mouth hangs slightly open at the collection of words that just left your mouth. You avoid his eyes burning onto your skin as you try to steady your breathing. Your heart is pounding out of your chest.

"Just give me the stupid manual." You mumble, snagging it from his unsuspecting hands. You open the little book to your page, but the hiss that leaves Harry's mouth has you looking up at him. Your eyes widen at the sight of blood.

Dripping from Harry's hand is quite a bit of blood. Shit, you gave him a huge paper cut. Guilt washes over you, and you rush to the kitchen and back to give him some paper towels. Out of instinct, you wrap the towels around his hand. You are closer to Harry than you would normally be, but it's an emergency—one that you caused—so there's a necessary reason for it.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to— let's get you to the kitchen." You put some pressure on his small wound and drag him to the kitchen. Harry doesn't say anything, but he lets you lead anyway. It is like your confession has shut him up, which is very rare because Harry never shuts up.

You put Harry's injured hand under the faucet and let the water wash away the blood. You get a better look of the cut and can deduce that a little bit of bandage would be best to keep a bit of pressure on it for now. You tell Harry to keep his hand in the same place, and reach for the first aid box you bought Benjamin as one of his housewarming gifts. This one was more of a joke, but it comes in handy now.

By the time you've collected everything you need, you turn off the faucet and dry Harry's hand with some new paper towels. It is completely silent between the two of you as you dap the towels onto his skin. But you can feel Harry's stare. It doesn't surprise you very much when he speaks up.

"I'm sorry."

Your body stops everything it was doing and takes in the apology for a few seconds, then resumes back to drying Harry's hand

"I'm gonna put some bandage around your hand. It'll keep pressure on the cut. You'll be able to switch to a band aid after a while." You casually explain, choosing to ignore his words. You don't really have the mental capacity to deal with it right now.

"Y/N, I'm not just saying it. I mean it, I'm sorry." Harry almost pleads. You look at him and hate the sincerity that flashes through his eyes. You'd prefer it if it wasn't there. It's gonna turn out to be bullshit anyway; he shouldn't be saying it like he means it. "What I— we did was stupid, I shouldn't have done that. I was just... I was in love, and I thought—"

"I don't want to listen to your excuses, Harry." You interrupt him. "You may have your reasons, but you did what you did. It already happened, you can't talk yourself out of it."

"I'm not trying to talk myself out of it."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to tell you the truth." Harry grits through his teeth.

"So what? So I can feel bad for you about stealing my boyfriend?!" You respond, the condescension in your tone dripping over the words you speak.

"You stole him first!" He growls very loudly. You are taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness.

"What?" The questions almost comes out like a whisper. You are utterly lost. What is this guy talking about? Harry huffs, looking away from you. He is clearly embarrassed.

"Nothing."

"No, tell me." You demand, wrapping the bandage around Harry's palm. "You owe me, at the very least."

Harry sighs, shaking his head. His eyes flick between yours and the his wounded hand. He exhales deeply before finally beginning with talking.

"We were... sleeping together, Dylan and I. It was casual; he said he didn't want a relationship, that he wasn't ready. Then about three weeks after saying that, he started dating you."

You don't open your mouth, instead focusing on processing the information that Harry is throwing your way, which is proving to be a bit difficult. You shake your head.

"That's shitty of him." You simply say, deciding to not want to offer him any pity. It is indeed a fucked up thing to string someone along and then date someone else, but it doesn't excuse what Harry did.

You focus on finishing up with the bandage on Harry's arm, and smile at your work. You could definitely be a nurse if you wanted to.

"Okay. Let's go back to that devil of a couch." You say, and the air feels a bit lighter now. It isn't so heavy with unresolved tension as it was before. There still is loads, but it is easier to breathe than before.

"Alright." Harry agrees, walking behind you to the living room.

************************************************

One and a half hour later

"I'm never doing favors for anyone ever again." You say, staring wide-eyed at the couch you and Harry finally managed to put together. It took you long enough—thanks to Harry—but you're finally done.

"Gotta agree with you on that one." Harry nods, hands on his hips as he analyzes the couch.

"Of course you do. I'm always right." You shrug, and Harry rolls his eyes.

The past hour and a half have been strangely good for you and Harry. You still hate him, and you are pretty sure he feels the same way about you, but there is kind of a non-negotiated truce now. That doesn't keep you from seizing every opportunity to insult him. You haven't lost your edge.

You flop down on the couch, and Harry follows suit. You sit in silence, staring at the white wall in front of you. That's when you see something on the sofa table, and you can quite literally feel the blood drain from your face.

In the table lay a ziplock bag of screws. Ones that you were supposed to put somewhere in this couch, but you didn't. All freaked out, you start looking for the instructions again.

"Where's the manual?" You question, aimlessly scanning the room. When your glance goes past Harry, you see the little white book in his hand. You lean forward to grab it, but he moves it away from you very quickly.

"Come on. It wasn’t funny the first time, it’s not funny now.” You tilt your head and reach out your hand, hoping that your motherly tone will make him put the piece of paper back in your hand. But he doesn’t, only shrugging at your tiny lecture. Your lips break into a slight smirk, and you heave a sigh.

“Fine. You want to play foul, then foul it is.”

Then, in a matter of seconds, you’ve thrown yourself over Harry, grasping the manual. You have managed to get a hold of it, clearly having caught him off guard. But that doesn’t hold for long, as he’s regained his senses quickly and puts an arm around your waist, lifting you up and throwing you off the couch. You land on the rug with a small thud, and although it doesn’t hurt much, there is fire in your eyes when they meet Harry’s cocky face. He’s holding up the manual behind him as he laughs at you lying on the ground.

Without thinking for another second, you charge at him, jumping on him and snatching the manual out of his hands. You lean back to get away, but almost fall backwards. That is until an arm around your waist catches you. You are pulled into Harry and his action to save you leaves the both of you very close to one another. You are still breathing heavily from your ‘attack’, but then you feel something else.

The beating of your heart at the proximity between you and Harry; it stresses you out to be this close to him. Suddenly, it becomes apparent, too apparent; Harry’s fingers are dug into your waistline.

You blame the way your body reacts to the fact that you haven’t gotten laid in a month, yet you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from Harry. He shares your troubles, his gaze fixated on you like you could fade away at any second.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly when Harry leans forward. A couple inches, but forward nonetheless. No matter how radical and ridiculous your mind finds this action, your body doesn’t do a thing to stop it. There is a spark that radiates off Harry and enters your veins through the touch of his fingers, the heat of his breath, and the feel of his stare.

His eyes dart from yours to your mouth, asking without asking, as he inches closer with every few seconds. You feel those sparks morphing into a flame as Harry’s lips brush yours ever so slightly, and your heavy eyes flutter shut.

“I’m back!”

You jump off Harry’s lap in an impressive short amount of time, just in time for the door to shut and Benjamin to walk through the door. His eyes travel to the counter, where a partly bloodied paper towel still lies. A gasp leaves his lips.

“YOU STABBED HIM?!”

His eyes fly to you and Harry, and he sighs deeply at the sight of the both of you unharmed, well… mostly.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d stab him.”

“Why did you think she was the one who stabbed me?”

You and Harry responded at the same time. You flick Harry a look before explaining the situation to your friend.

“I accidentally gave him a paper cut.” You point to Harry’s bandaged hand, which he is holding up. “But thanks for thinking I’m vicious enough to stab someone, I guess.”

“Yeah, and thanks a lot for thinking I’m not.” Harry adds with a frown, his arms crossed. Benjamin stifles out a laugh.

“Well, thanks for the couch. I owe you guys.” He smiles, pulling you into a hug. “D’ya wanna go for a drink together?”

“No!” You call out as soon as Benjamin finishes his question, earning a pair of confused looks from the two boys. “I— uh, I have to go. Assignment. I have to do an assignment.”

You stumble over your words and steps as you grab your jacket and headphones, heading for the front door.

“Okay… will I see tonight?!” Benjamin shouts the question which reminds you of Tyler’s birthday party tonight. Tyler is a friend you got to know through Benjamin. Almost hooked up with him once.

“I’ll let you know!” Is all you say before walking out the door, shutting the door behind you. You rush to the elevator, not wanting the boys to catch up with you. You put on your headphones, taking a deep breath before putting play on the music.

You need some time to think about what the fuck happened back there.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Hello Hello! Can I get Dirt Cake with a lemonade please?

( Congratulation Sheep! and I hope this Event runs smoothly for you💖-Jan)

Hello Jan! ☆

Ahhh thank you so much for your order! ♡ And thank you so much for your kind words! I got excited when I saw your order was for Idia (as he's my favorite lol) so thank you! I hope you enjoy! ♡

This is part of an event I'm doing where people can request stories by placing orders! For more information, please refer to this post! ♡

⋆ 𝓘𝓭𝓲𝓪 𝓢𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓭: 𝓙𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼𝔂 ⋆

One dirt cake and a lemonade, coming right up! ♡

⋆ Being with Idia, you both had media you were into. Shows that you loved and held close to your heart, movies you would rewatch every once in a while, games you adored and played daily. Even if you weren't into the same genre or liked the same franchises, you cared about each other's interests, taking turns talking about whatever game or character you were hyperfixating on while the other listened.

⋆ If you played gacha type games, he would understand, comforting you when you didn't get the character or card you wanted. You would do the same for him as well, knowing how determined he is to get his favorite characters (no matter the cost). He would surprise you with in game currency or merch of your favorite characters, things you mentioned offhand or items he noticed you wanted through observation. He was observant when it came to you, to your likes and interests.

⋆ A new game coming out in the franchise you like? He already has it pre-ordered. A figure of your favorite character releasing due to a limited time promotion? He bought it as soon as the website made it available for purchase. Your favorite snacks are on sale, or you had a bad day? Expect a delivery driver at your door with your comfort food and snacks, already paid for.

⋆ Of course, there were games you played together that you considered "your games". Games were you could co op, working together to complete a goal. Games were you didn't have to play in person, having gaming dates were you played and talked to each other through a call. There were also shows you considered to be "your shows", always watching the latest episodes together.

⋆ Matching icons online, matching phone charms of characters you like. It was just some of the ways he showed he cared for you, even bragging about you to his online gaming buddies. Though, he couldn't help how he would get jealous sometimes, noticing you laughing or gushing about characters with people other than him. They could be online friends you have, talking with them over a call. He would sink lower into his gaming chair, doing his best not to focus on the conversation you were having behind him.

⋆ He was happy you had found others interested in the game you like, but he noticed how you started gushing to them rather than him recently, feeling out of the loop when you mentioned loving a character he had never heard of. How it seemed you were paying more attention to them than to him, smiling whenever they replied back and eager to respond. It would be this jealousy that would cause him to do heavy research on the franchise in question, wanting to be able to talk with you about it. For you to know that you can talk to him about these things, like how you've always listened to him.

⋆ Plus, he's your boyfriend. He can easily help you through any game, no problem. He is an expert, after all. No need to go to someone else when you can just co op with him. The only exception is Ortho, he can co op with you guys too. But the person at the game store being a bit too friendly as he asked for your friend code, or the person online who keeps complimenting you over game chat when they join your world? Nope, no way, not a chance.

⋆ Whenever he would get jealous you would always reassure him, making sure he knew how much you loved talking with him, whether it be in person, through a call, or text messages. That there's no one you'd rather game with, or watch your favorite shows and movies with. No one you'd rather be with. You were his player two, after all ♡

I hope you enjoyed your meal, and thank you for visiting the Cathie Cafe! ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[silverynight]

Welcome home

Chapter 1 (of 5)

It's been a year since Izuku reconnected with his childhood friend, now pro hero, Bakugo Katsuki.

He has changed a lot... in a good way. When he found out Izuku got a job at the same agency he works for, he went straight to the analytics department to see him and talk to him.

Izuku had to ask for a break and meet Katsuki outside; he was nervous then, but he realized quickly he didn't have to. All the pro hero wanted was to apologize for his past behavior.

They started over after that and now they're really good friends and Izuku is very happy because of it.

There's a lot of things in his life that have improved since he got that job, actually.

He gets to meet a lot of pro heroes, yes, most of them are kind enough to go to his department and see him in person rather than only communicate with him via text or earpiece.

Aizawa promoted him after a couple of months and now Izuku handles most to the mission and investigations; he chooses quickly which pro hero (based on their quirk, availability and experience) is the best to deal with the situation at hand.

He really likes his job because even though he doesn't do the hero work directly, he gets to help the pro heroes in a way.

He also hangs out with Katsuki a lot; he met his friends the first week after the apology and went to his apartment for the first time fifteen days after that.

Ashido says that it's weird for "Blasty" (as she calls Katsuki) to spend so much time with him right after meeting him again, although she has this smirk on her face whenever she says it that makes Izuku flustered for some reason.

However, Izuku thinks it's perfectly normal; whenever they're together, it feels right, like they never stopped seeing each other and have been good friends for years, ever since they were kids.

"It's still weird," Kaminari says when Katsuki goes to the cafeteria counter to get Izuku a coffee and a bagel. "It took us a year to get invited to his apartment."

The way his friends (because Izuku considers them his friends now) look at him make him feel flustered, but he doesn't do anything to hide the blush on his cheeks like he used to do in high-school whenever he was embarrassed.

Now he just hopes it goes away quickly.

"Well, that was years ago," Izuku says, trying to dismiss it. Katsuki told him he bought his fancy apartment two years after he started working as a professional hero. "Kacchan has changed."

Izuku got really shocked when he found out he owned that apartment, but he knows the pro heroes get very well paid, especially when they get brand deals. It also helps that Katsuki is the number one hero currently, although pro hero Shoto is right behind him.

"He doesn't trust most people," Kirishima points out, like he's trying to tell him something. Then his expression turns into an amused one as he sees Katsuki approaching them again. "And he's certainly not the type to bring anyone food."

"Kacchan's just being nice!" Izuku says as the three pro heroes look back at him like he's crazy. Yes, Katsuki is not that nice on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean he hasn't improved. "I told him my ankle hurts a bit because I rescued a cat and fell right after I managed to get him down from a tree."

Fortunately, the mention of the cat makes them focus on that instead, and suddenly Izuku finds himself showing them pictures of it.

Katsuki sits right next to him, and Izuku sighs in delight after taking the first bite of his bagel.

"How much?" He asks after a while.

"I don't know," Katsuki makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I paid for your stuff and mine together."

"But surely they gave you a receipt–"

"No. Just drink your damn coffee, nerd!"

"Thank you, Kacchan," Izuku says, trying not to roll his eyes; sometimes Katsuki does stuff like that, he seems determined to pay for every little thing Izuku wants when they go out together.

"Also, I'm going to drive you to your apartment..."

"There's no need–"

"You're hurt," Katsuki argues and the green haired man knows that expression really well; there's nothing that can change his mind now, no matter what Izuku says, the pro hero will take him home no matter what.

Izuku realizes right then that it's the first time Katsuki sees the place where he lives; they always go to Dynamight's apartment or to a coffee shop, a restaurant or somewhere else when they hang out.

"Please, tell me you're joking," Katsuki hisses as he parks his expensive car right outside Izuku's building, the one that looks like it's been sitting there for hundreds of years and is about to collapse under its own weight.

Or maybe that's not why the pro hero is frowning that much; his red eyes are scanning the area like the worst kind of villain is about to pop up from the dark alley next to Izuku's building.

"It's not that bad," he assures his friend. They have tried to rob him only once, maybe twice... but he survived!

Well, maybe he shouldn't say that out loud.

"Shit!" Katsuki hisses. "I thought they paid you well! What the hell?"

"They do!" Izuku assures him. "But, uhh... you see... I'm kinda tired of paying rent so I've been saving some money to buy my own place somewhere else. However, if I want it to happen soon, I need to stay here for a while."

"I'll buy you a new apartment."

Izuku chuckles, but his smile falls when he realizes Katsuki is not joking at all.

"I appreciate the offer, but there's no need, Kacchan," he smiles.

Katsuki is still grabbing the steering wheel like he's very tempted to drive away from there. His knuckles are slightly white, perhaps because the grip of the wheel has tightened considerably.

"Izuku, this is not a safe place." He's deadly serious, and by the tone in his voice, it seems like he's about to snap, but he's trying to control himself.

"I can take care of myself," he hears himself saying, slightly irritated. Katsuki is not the only stubborn person in that car.

"Alright..." Katsuki doesn't deny it, but Izuku can tell that he doesn't like the situation at all. "If you want to save for your new apartment, perhaps you can live with me in the meantime. You'll save even more money because you won't have to pay rent anymore."

Izuku's face turns slightly pink at the thought of living with Katsuki. A memory returns to him in that moment; when they were kids, they had promised each other they would live together and work in the same agency as a hero duo.

But that was before Izuku found out he was quirkless.

A long time ago.

"Kacchan, I really appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't accept–"

"Please."

He's sure the pro hero has seen a lot of awful things during all those years working as Dynamight; Izuku has access to a lot of cases, and even though the information is sometimes haunting, he knows there's nothing compared to seeing it happening or arriving at the crime scene.

However, this time Katsuki is overreacting. Sure, the place is not the safest one, but it's not like there's a murder every single day.

Besides, his neighbors are very good people.

"I'll think about it," he finally says, mostly to reassure him.

However, it doesn't work. Katsuki keeps looking around, growing tense.

"You should stay with me tonight. I'll make katsudon if you do."

The offer is really tempting, but Izuku knows it's because Katsuki is imagining horrible things happening to him in that place. Things that are not real.

"I'll be fine."

"Then I'll stay with you."

The fact that he's almost begging makes Izuku's heart beat in a funny way inside his chest. Surely, they are friends now, but it seems Izuku really had no idea how much Katsuki cared about him.

Until now.

"My apartment is tiny and I don't have an extra futon–"

"I can sleep on the floor."

"Kacchan..." Izuku leans closer, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. "Listen, take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise. I have lived here for over two years now. I know this place, and I know how to take care of myself."

Katsuki nods as he relaxes... a bit.

"Alright, but I won't go until you enter that building... no, I won't leave until you text me you're inside your apartment."

Fine. He can agree to that.

"Okay, Kacchan."

***

Two days. It's been two days since Katsuki found out where Izuku lived and whenever he's not with him, he calls him. A couple of times a day.

It's okay, at least he hasn't "kidnapped" Izuku and taken him to his apartment, even though he clearly wants to.

"Hi, Kacchan. Yes, I'm in the office and nothing has happened to me," he mumbles joyfully as he keeps filling a couple of reports for Endeavor's agency.

"I call because I somehow got used to your nerdy voice, and now I miss it constantly," Katsuki grumbles. There's a weird noise coming from his side that makes Izuku frown for a moment.

"Sure, Kacchan," he rolls his eyes because he knows the pro hero can't see him. Maybe he just imagined it. "I suppose you're on patrol so before you–what was that?"

"Shit!"

There's an explosion on his side. This time Izuku is sure of it.

At first, he gets worried as he immediately goes to the database, and then the status section until he finds Dynamight's profile.

"Are you okay?"

"I got everything under control," Katsuki assures him and even though he's clearly using his quirk, Izuku can tell he's being honest.

Then, he gets irritated. Especially when he reads the status and remembers the important mission Izuku assigned to him started today.

"Did you call me during a mission?"

"Izuku, I'm clearly busy here..."

"Alright, I'll end the call."

"No, wait! Is Hatsume there yet?"

Just as Katsuki says it, the head of the support department rushes into Izuku's cubicle.

"Hello, pretty!"

"Hi, Hatsume!" Izuku perks up, smiling at her; she's always a mess, but it suits her somehow.

"Great," Katsuki sounds relived.

"Wait, how did you know–"

"I'm sorry, Izuku, I have to go. I'll pick you up in a couple of hours, alright? Don't get out of the office!"

Katsuki ends the call before Izuku has the opportunity to say anything at all.

He's so distracted arranging everything for the pro hero from Endeavor's agency who'll be coming to work on a case with them and, at the same time, thinking about what he's going to say to Katsuki when he sees him again that he doesn't realize Hatsume is in his personal space until he hears a click.

Suddenly, there's a very beautiful golden chain around his neck, it's not exactly tight, but not as loose as other necklaces he's seen.

It's honestly beautiful, especially with that black X in the middle covered in orange and green gemstones.

Izuku is sure Hatsume made a mistake; if he had to guess, he'd say it looks like a fancy necklace that's probably part of Dynamight's new merch collection or something.

"Uhh... Hatsume?"

She has a tablet in her hands and is typing something so fast it makes Izuku feel a little envious; his job would be slightly easier if he could type that fast.

"I sent an email," she says, without looking up.

A little bit confused, but intrigued nonetheless, Izuku takes out his phone again and opens his mailbox.

It has the agency logo, so Izuku supposes that's something official and relaxes a bit.

He starts reading and then...

"A tracker?"

She chuckles.

"Don't worry, it doesn't activate unless you're in danger. This is for your safety. The standard ones send an alarm to the agency so one of our pro heroes can go and rescue you or help you in case you need it."

Izuku has read about these in a couple of files, although he doesn't know much about them. The ones he looked at seemed completely different from his.

Besides, they were just for very important people... politicians, idols, all kinds of celebrities and scientists if their lives were considered to be in imminent danger.

Also, for obvious reasons, pro heroes' families.

But Izuku was neither of those. He decides to ask Hatsume, but something else makes him worry.

"This looks really expensive."

"You bet!"

"But–"

"It's already paid for, obviously," she says, typing something before the necklace makes a noise and a green light appears in the middle of the X, although it vanishes quickly.

So it's from the agency? Maybe. Although Izuku knows he's not that important to be given something like that. Sure, he handles a lot of information, but it stays in the computer he uses to work on in the office. Besides, neither he nor his coworkers wear uniforms... they aren't given anything that can be linked to the agency for the same reason.

They're not usually the villains' targets. Izuku has never seen a report that mentions an office worker being in danger.

But he admits he's not an expert in that area, perhaps they give something like this to everyone who works there.

"Why Dynamight's logo?"

Hatsume looks at him before chuckling.

"You're funny, Midoriya."

Getting slightly frustrated, Izuku tries again with another question.

"How can I take it off?"

Even though she's the one with crooked goggles on her head and stains of grease all over her face, she looks at him like he's crazy.

"You're not supposed to take it off, ever. It'd defeat its purpose."

"I mean... to take a shower?"

"Oh! Don't worry, it's waterproof!"

At least he finally got a little bit more information about the necklace.

"Uhh..."

"Sorry, I'd love to stay and chat with you, but I have a lot of work to do and I'm sure you do too!" Hatsume says, already waving him goodbye, and looking down at her tablet at the same time.

Izuku sighs and looks down at the device around his neck. He likes the Dynamight symbol, even though he has no idea why she picked that one specifically.

He knows these have to be a secret; the general public can't know about them, so perhaps making it look like expensive merch was her goal?

Yeah, that's probably it.

And she chose Katsuki because it's not a secret Izuku is good friends with him so him wearing his merch makes sense.

He nods to himself, mostly because he doesn't have time to look for more information on that.

He still has to tell Aizawa that Endeavor's office hasn't sent the name of the pro hero who's coming in a few days.

They have to work with them in that particular case because even though they started the investigation, the villain has moved to the zone assigned to the pro heroes who work at Endeavor's.

It'll probably be fine.

***

Next--->

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