#it turned midnight here wait Late Night Thoughts . yeah ><

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

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[blaire-apricity]

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ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘈𝘋𝘚 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Despite being utterly exhausted from your mission, you took great care in opening the apartment door you shared with Xavier, not wanting to wake him if he was already asleep.

Given how he always seemed drowsy during the day, you assumed he’d be in bed by now. But you had forgotten that Xavier was always up late, hunting Wanderers and attending to his own errands.

Quietly closing the door behind you, you were taken by surprise when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing gently against your back.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” you asked softly, concerned that your footsteps and the creaking floor might have disturbed his sleep.

He nuzzled into your nape, inhaling your scent, his embrace firm yet tender, as if afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“No,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your neck. “I waited for you.”

A twinge of guilt washed over you. “Let’s rest then?” you suggested softly.

But there was no response. Turning your head, you saw that he had miraculously fallen asleep in that position.

Even though he was leaning on you, his weight wasn’t burdensome, but his even breathing and heaving shoulders told you he was sound asleep.

Raising a hand to wake him, you changed your mind and instead began to gently massage his scalp with one hand while caressing his hand on your waist with the other.

He let out a soft, satisfied mumble, melting into your touch.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Usually, Zayne would be the one who would come home late after his night surgeries, but tonight, it was you.

Opening the door, you noticed a light on in the living room. Zayne was sitting on the couch, a book in his hands, his eyes immediately locking onto you as you walked in.

“You’re late. It’s already past midnight,” he stated calmly, though you detected a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry. I had to finish some documents,” you replied, feeling a pang of guilt for worrying him.

Setting his book down, he stood up, his expression composed but his concern evident. "You should have called," he said, walking over to you with steady, pragmatic concern.

"I know, but I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted.

He sighed softly, a rare show of emotion. "It's never a bother when it’s about you," he said, gently touching your arm. "Are you okay?"

“I’m fine, just tired,” you assured him with a small smile.

“Good,” he nodded, his stoicism softening as he looked at you. "But next time, just let me know."

Nodding, you felt warmth in your chest at his words. Despite his reserved nature, you knew he cared deeply. “I promise.”

He gave a slight, approving nod before stepping back. "Alright, let’s get you to bed. You need rest."

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Rafayel quipped, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as you walked in.

You sighed, closing the door behind you. "I had a job, Rafayel. It took longer than expected."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And here I thought you were out having fun without me."

Rolling your eyes, you knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. "Seriously, Rafayel, it was work."

He stood up, sauntering over to you with that roguish charm that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

"You could have at least called, you know. I was starting to think you found someone more interesting than me," he said, a mock pout on his lips.

"You know that’s not true," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your tiredness.

He stopped in front of you, his playful demeanor softening just a bit. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit of it," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I might start to get jealous."

Laughing softly, you felt the tension of the day melt away. "I’ll keep that in mind."

"Good," he said, leaning in closer. "Now, how about a proper welcome home kiss?"

You obliged, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His teasing nature might annoy and drive you crazy sometimes, but beneath it all, you knew he cared deeply for you.

As you pulled away, he smirked. "See? Was that so hard?"

Shaking your head, amused, you replied, "You're impossible."

"But you love me anyway," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Yes, I do," you admitted, sighing softly in defeat at his annoyingly-childish charm.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

"Out late, aren’t we, sweetie?" Sylus remarked coolly, his tone controlled.

The lights were still on, and he was sitting in a sleek armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand, looking completely unbothered.

“Nice to see you too, Sylus,” you said, setting your bag down and rolling your eyes. "The job just took longer than expected."

Standing up, he walked over to you with that confident, almost intimidating grace he always had. "You could have called," he said.

"And miss out on your reaction? Where's the fun in that?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

He chuckled, almost a scoff of amusement, clearly enjoying the banter. "Fair enough. But next time, try not to keep me waiting."

"Impatient and bossy?" you teased, crossing your arms.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement and something more intense. "Assertive, more like." He said, tilting your chin up. "Did you at least have a productive night?"

"It was fine. Just a lot of work," you said, trying to ignore the way your heart raced under his gaze.

"Good," he replied, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I expect nothing less from you."

Raising an eyebrow, you didn’t back down. "And I expect nothing less than a proper welcome home from my significant other."

He laughed, a deep raspy tone. "Demanding, aren’t we? But I suppose you’ve earned it."

Leaning in, he kissed you in the forehead, a mix of possessiveness and affection in the gesture. When he pulled back, his eyes still twinkled with that ever-present dominance.

"If you keep coming home this late, I might have to start tagging along on these jobs of yours," he said lightly, but with underlying seriousness.

"Like you’d ever leave Onychinus for a night," you retorted, grinning knowing he’d never leave it to the twins.

"True," he conceded. "But for you, I might make an exception."

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐷𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟/ 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 (𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑) 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦, 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑟.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[noxtivagus]

how do u interact w ppl again >////<

[neocitycafe]

Home After the Holidays (Mark)

♡ genre: hot cocoa - fluff, sweet and steamy hehe; a bit smutty with too many thoughts; i guess "new year’s time pensive cheese" is a theme for me (here’s haechan’s version from last year) ✎ words: 2.1k ✓ summary/notes: busy idol husband Mark finally returns home :’) and you’ve missed each other. a trope that i love lots. @d-nghy-ck to bronwyn, here’s a slice of pensive cheese(cake), especially for you! this cafe would probably not be here if not for this first customer who came by and said hi! wishing you all the love in the world~

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

It’s that awkward time in late January when you’re not sure whether it’s still socially appropriate to include “Happy New Year” in your greetings. Mark had told you not to come to the airport. The weather was frigid all week and it’d be way past midnight by the time he got out of customs, and then there was the long cab ride home.

But he missed you. 

Closing the front door gently, he looks down to find his old lace-ups where he usually left them, as if he were home this whole time. Your favorite pair is set neatly next to his, and a smaller set of shoes next to those. Ones with velcro and lights that he bought a couple months back, but it felt much longer ago so quickly. You’d replaced the original laces with neon green ones, and all of Mark’s teammates cooed at how cute that was. 

The lights are dimmed and Mark finds you on the couch in a pile of blankets, where you cozied up while waiting. His heart suddenly aches thinking of you with only a little cup of chamomile tea to warm yourself and get to bed. 

He had been so busy working lately, loving what he did, creating music, making crazy new connections, show after show, press conferences, collaborations. Had he done anything for you lately? His mind races.

From where you’d dozed off, you find Mark frozen by the door. After years of knowing him, you could see his raised brows and the running thoughts behind them. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes shifting to the side meant self-doubt. You want to erase those worries and pour love into all the spaces where he thought he was not enough. 

“I wanted to get you flowers.” His voice cracks and you get up to close the distance between you.

“Oh Mark... I have you now.” The cold from outside has clung on to his coat, but you ignore it and wrap your arms around him more tightly. “It’s the middle of the night, silly. I don’t need flowers.”

You feel him shake his head against you, “And I wanted to be home for the holidays,” he says with a bit of a whine. 

“You’re here now.”

Looking into his eyes, you brush the hair away from his forehead and peck him on the nose. The end of the year meant holiday tour stops, special shows, concerts, and awards nights. The holidays meant the opposite of holidays for entertainers like Mark. It meant he couldn’t really be with family until afterwards. He follows you into the kitchen where you set your mug in the sink. 

“Did you miss me?” You turn when he wraps his arms around you from behind. 

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his boyish smile and a pang of longing wells up, an emptiness in your chest that had been there behind your smiles when he had video called. The answer is a thousand times yes, but you bite back the truth in favor of not worrying him. You shake your head playfully. “I don’t have to. I get to see your features in our son’s face every day.”

Mark breaks into a grin that you can’t help but match. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, but he sure begged to stay up! He can be a little headstrong sometimes. Like someone.” You give Mark a long look and he pouts in response. “But he finally fell asleep a couple of hours ago.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my home.”

“You’re sappy, Mark Lee.” Nonetheless, you’re more than willing when he tilts your head for a deeper kiss. He runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them to let him taste you. A familiar heat stirs in your belly, and you reach your hands up to tangle them in his hair and pull him closer. He groans into your mouth and presses you back into the kitchen counter. From this position, he places pressure where your bodies are connected, where you want it. He rocks against you once, twice, slowly, fluidly, and you pull him even closer. 

Mark’s hands knock into the stacked pots and pans behind you on the drying rack, and you’re grateful for your husband’s quick reflexes. He steadies a pan, preventing what would’ve been a huge clatter. You both freeze for a moment. 

“Easy, tiger,” you tease while throwing him a wink. “Or baby lion or cheetah or whatever small big cat you are.” 

He responds with a playful growl that is both adorable and sexy, his nose scrunching up. 

A delicious thrill runs through you as his gaze locks on you again. Knocking your legs apart and then lifting you onto the counter, Mark reminds you of how he wanted you everywhere when you were newlyweds. A tender bite between your neck and shoulder reminds you of how he wants you now. You make a mental note to call Jaemin for some babysitting this coming weekend, because you wouldn’t mind some more alone time like this. 

You tug on Mark’s hand and he knows what you mean. You slip off the counter and try not to trip over each other as you eagerly make your way to the bedroom. It’s a familiar but exhilarating path, like a choreography that your bodies move to automatically once the music starts playing.

When he finds a towel already laid out on the bed, he raises a seagull of a brow, and you can’t help but laugh. He teases, “Oooh, so you were prepared!”

You lean in to whisper in his ear, feeling cheeky and bold, “Well, my husband gets messy.”

The look in his eyes and how he kisses you next is the response you were hoping for. When you fall back into bed, it’s easy and slow. You take your time wriggling out of your clothes, and you laugh at his cute shimmy while pulling his jeans off. The both of you sigh in content when his body is above yours, skin to skin. 

Mark’s fingertips trail patterns along your sides, his left hand’s calluses from guitar playing are a little rough, but soothingly so. You map out the constellation connecting the mole on his neck, on his cheek, the tiny one on the corner of his mouth. He spends his time with his lips on your neck where you crave them, wet kisses with a slight bite that have you feeling hot all over and in want, and then you’re grateful they’re chasing paths over the crests and valleys of your body. 

Mark travels down until his face is settled between your thighs, his warm breath causing you to shiver in anticipation. He takes your hand and kisses your wrist, your palm, your fingertips, slowly and thoughtfully. He moves to do the same with your other hand. The love in his gaze staring up at you is too much for you to handle, so you close your eyes and lay your head back. And then he’s lacing your fingers together, holding your hands as his perfect mouth dives in eagerly. 

Mark isn’t shy about playing with your wetness and giving you what you crave. He laps at you with the intent of pushing you to the edge, like there’s nothing else he wants but for you to feel good, and you can’t help but arch up towards him. 

When he tires, he keeps stroking your clit with his fingers, keeping the contact consistent and insistent, and then switches back to working you with his tongue. He keeps going even when you cry out his name, your thighs close around his head, and your hips lift off the mattress as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure.  

When he comes back up to face you, he’s surprised to find the tears falling down your cheeks and into your hair. You don’t notice it yourself until he starts worrying. 

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head. “No, that was amazing.”

He rolls to his side and pulls you into his chest carefully. His eyes search your face.

The words are tumbling out before you can stop them: “I missed you. Mark… I missed you.”

You finally let yourself go.

Going to your son’s first winter concert at his school alone. You’d even saved a seat for Mark, but his filming schedule got delayed that evening. Opening holiday presents with Mark’s parents at their home, without him there. Counting down to the new year by yourself while his team celebrated their album of the year win. How you never wanted to burden him. How you understood his career and wanted to be his steady support, and yet... “I missed you so much.”

“You know you can tell me that. I’m not afraid of how you feel.” He pauses to dry your tears with gentle hands and a kiss on your cheek. “I want to know. I want to love you better.” He holds you tighter, as if capturing every bit of the emotion pouring out of you. It’s like Mark knew the exact words you needed to hear. While being laid bare and vulnerable, you feel safe and known, and now, ever grateful that your relationship is one you are both committed to growing and working out together. “Let’s talk more in the morning after some rest, yeah?”

“Thank you, Mark.” You gaze up into his shining eyes. 

“For what?”

“For being home.”

“Look who’s being cheesy now,” he teases back. 

You tug on him beneath the covers in response and Mark lets out a surprised moan. 

“Mmm, in the morning’s okay too… ah, babe. I mean, do you still want to make love now?”

You nod against his chest and laugh at his insistence on calling it lovemaking rather than sex or anything else. “Do you?”

He nods too and the boyish grin you love so much is back. You push at his shoulders and move so you’re seated above him, your thighs settled over his.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He seems to say, and you feel it in your soul. 

When you sink down onto him, you fill his presence with your closeness, as he fills yours with his. And it’s like the time and space between you disappears. All you hear is Mark, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he loses himself in loving you, and you him. He aids with your rhythm with his hands holding your hips, and then makes the switch so you’re under him. 

There’s the softness of the sheets, his lips, your fingertips, the moonlight shining in, the sound of rustling and sighs pulled from deep within. The flush of his cheeks, your parted lips, the thrum of beating hearts, and later, the patterns slowing steadily into dreams together.

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

You’re gladly surprised by the warmth in your bed when you wake up in the morning. Mark kicked off his side of the covers in the middle of the night as usual, leaving a mountain of blankets on top of you, so you pull them up to cover his bare chest. You probably should have showered after last night, but it was too comfortable being cuddled up. Mark’s discarded shirt is closest, so you pull it on, mind reveling in everything for a moment: his scent, his return, his closeness, your shared love. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. Little hands, messy morning bed head, and eyes shining as they peer in. (You’d have to remind your son about knocking on the door again.)

He’s quick to spot the lump next to you under the blankets. “Dada!”

You smile and hold a finger to your lips. 

“Mm-hmm, yes dear, come here.” You sit up better and he clambers into your lap. “Shhh. He’s sleeping.”

His eyes are wide and he whispers rather loudly, “He’s snoring.” You cast a wistful gaze over the relaxed expression on Mark’s face, not knowing when the last time it was that he slept well. 

“Let’s let him sleep more.” You ready yourself to sneak out of bed. Your son was really getting too heavy to carry. He’s squirmy and ticklish, and of course he starts giggling almost immediately when you try to lift him, the sound bubbling out uncontrollably. Someone else you knew laughed just like that. You’re trying to get up quickly when you feel Mark’s arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Come back....”

The way he holds you tickles, and the added weight of your son makes you lose balance, so you fall back onto Mark’s chest, effectively making your family a little sandwich. Mark lets out a small grunt from the weight but he doesn’t really mind. His heart is as light as can be. His eyes are bright and his smile mischievous. He wriggles around and declares, “Love attack!!!”

There are lots of kisses and shared silliness, and you laugh until there are tears in the corners of your eyes, little crystals breathlessly kissed away too in the moment. 

—

"And at last, I open my arms wide again to give you warmth. I'll do anything to make it right. Those stars are shining on us. I'll cherish this moment, all of it, my baby. I’m gonna love you… Love doesn't come easy, girl, but loving you is easy.  Every day without you feels hollow. Because our memories refine even our imperfect moments into treasured times, I reflect, calling love a beauty."

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: Family Dinner

Summary: two weeks after inviting Benny into your bed, you begin to question the status of your relationship. You eat dinner at your uncles house.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Warning: implications of family violence/DV, cursing, angst feels, and, brief mentions of religion (a theme that will pop up occasionally, if you don’t like it don’t read it)

A/N: Please excuse grammar mistakes. My tired eyes can only catch so much 😂 I’m gonna be diving into some heavy topics now. Though I’ll try my best to keep the lighthearted fluff and fun from the beginning.

You aren’t sure what the status of your relationship is. If you asked anyone in the Club they’d all laugh and say “You Benny’s girl, Sunshine, why’d you ask a stupid question like that”

If you asked Kathy she’d just snort and look you up and down, “Oh Sunny, you’re hopeless, I mean really? Ain’t it obvious by now”

Your response to both cases would be to sigh. Lots and lots of sighing.

It’s been two weeks of Benny showin’ up to your uncle's diner to pick you up from your late night shifts and whisk you to the bar.

Two weeks of you and Benny curling up on your bed in the early morning, eyes fluttering shut as you listen to his heart thump.

Two weeks of nothing.

And it's driving you mad.

He doesn’t verbalize what you are to him. Every time you think about asking your tongue freezes. Muscles tensing as your brain struggles to put your thoughts into words.

You squeeze the wet cloth in your hand, mind warring with itself. With a grunt you presume your cleaning activity for the night. You’d scrub all the empty tables raw. Your knuckles and wrists aching.

Your uncle Harold let you work the late shift at your request. He’d been reluctant to let you work the dead shift for safety concerns but after a long discussion of action plans in case of an emergency, he’d conceded.

The diner is quiet, the low hum of the overhead light flickers and you make a note to remind your uncle to get it fixed. You take a 5th glance out the window hoping to find Benny’s motorcycle parked out front, but he isn't there. You frown and turn away again, you know you would have heard him before you saw him, but he’s an hour late and it feels unusual not to see him waiting for you.

“Lookin’ for your man?” Jerry croaks from the bar counter hunched over a cappuccino, his white beard ruffled from insistent scratching. He comes in every Saturday night at 11:30 and stays just past midnight.

You throw the wet rag into a bucket, “I guess I am, Mr. Spore”

You continue your thoughts allowed, “I don’t even know what we are”

You grab the bucket with your cleaning supplies and lug it to the kitchen. You open the storage room to your left and place the dirty rags into the laundry bin-another task for you to remind your uncle to do. You busy yourself with cleaning the bucket in the storage room sink, a quirk of your lips as you hear Jerry chide you in the background , “Jerry, I beg you, I’m tired of formalities”

You can hear him pick up his cup, sipping his hot cappuccino. It would be the last one he drank before he would place money on the counter and wish you a good and safe night. “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at ya.”

You hum idly. Completely aware of how Benny looks at you. It’s almost suffocating and endearing.

You take a quick glance at the kitchen sink, half the dishes have been washed. You call out for Cole, the dish boy, noticing that the back door is open you walk up and peer outside.

He’s leaning up against the wall, taking slow drags from his cigarette. He turns his head and nods at you, “Is Jerry still here?”

“Yeah, he’s almost done,” Cole nods at your statement, “alright, give me another 20 and I’ll finish washing up”

You respond with a nod and turn away. Leaving him to his break. You pop open the kitchen door and enter back into the dining section, “I don't know Mr.-Jerry, we haven’t made anything finale?” you end it as a question, unsure of what words to describe your relationship with Benny.

You slide onto a stool next to Jerry, “It just feels weird, not knowing.”

You turn to look at him, resting your head on your palms.

Jerry waves his hand in the air, discarding your confusion. He gives you a dry huff, “He’s a man, it's not the words you should look at but his actions”

His grey eyes look at you with fatherly affection, you recognize it as the same look your uncle gives you whenever he sees you come into his view. You swallow thickly and smile appreciatively, “I’ll keep that in mind, Jerry”

Jerry moves to dig into his jacket pocket, his stiff aching joints slow him down but he doesn’t seem to be in a rush, “I’ve lived a long time”

He pulls out some change and dollars, he places them down one by one, “No man would sit patiently outside or inside a diner for hours for some lady who means nothin’, he’s your man alright”

He gives you a soft pat on the shoulder and then ruffles the top of your head, “Don’t overthink what hasn’t been said and start thinking about what’s been done”

He slips out of the barstool, and makes his way to the exit. He mummers a good night and tells you to be safe before stepping into the night.

He has left you with more wisdom than you thought you’d get. You shake your head and drag your hand over your face.

Benny is nowhere in sight when you lock up the diner. He must be busy or somethin’, you think.

You take to sitting on the steps leading to the diner doors and you wait, He has to come at some point. You’ve wrapped your arms around your legs, head resting on your forearms when you hear a rumble.

You look up, heart leaping and a smile on your face, and-

Your uncles old truck had pulled up to the diner, he waves at you from the drivers seat beckoning you to walk over. It takes you a couple minutes of looking past your uncles truck, peering into the night hoping for any sign that Benny would be there. But he never comes. Giving up on waiting, you get up and walk towards your uncle.

He steps out once you’re close enough, opening his arms for a hug. It doesn’t take much for you to accept his offer and you jump into it. You mumble a hi.

Your uncle pats your back, “Gina and I were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us”

You pull away and look up at him with surprised brows, “it’s 1:30 in the morning.”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “the ole lady insisted on putting off dinner till you got off work”

You can’t help the smile on your face, “Well, if the ole lady insists then we should not disappoint “

—

Your uncle pulls up to a washed out 2 story brick house. You can see a feminine figure waiting out on the porch.

You hop out of the truck to run up to Gina, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I hear I’m being summoned for dinner”

She hums, “I miss having a gal to talk to over a meal, this lump is no good at conversation”

She jerks her chin at your uncle, you can hear him scoff and mumble about how he has no interest in knowing the difference of a macron and macaroon. A heated discussion for sure, you think with amusement.

He herds the two of you inside the house his large looming figure barely fitting through the door. He stands at a whopping 6’4, his large shoulders and fit build look out of place in the tiny two story home his wife had inherited from her parents. Despite looking out of place, he melded into the environment with ease. Traces of his masculine personality being scattered through the home with his baseball card collections and hunting gear that he uses during winter camping trips with his buddies.

The atmosphere is different from your ma’s home. There is a lightness in the air and a buzzing feeling in your chest. You think it’s the feeling of love and care that your uncle and aunt have put into the home. You wonder if you’d ever be able to replicate that in your own home.

You pull out a chair once in the dining room, and sink into the dark wood, a vibrant red cushion softening the seat. Gina has set the table with your favorites, homemade mashed potatoes, buttered corn on a cob, and pork chops.

You smile gratefully at your aunt, her dark hair is slowly graying but she looks more youthful with how her eyes gleam lovingly at you. “I appreciate the thought you put into this, Gigi”

She gives you her best smile reminding you that she’d always take care of you if you ever let her. You shake your head at her, fondly remembering how she’d often jump at the chance to provide you with your wants and needs as a teen. You used to think she did it because of your special circumstances but no, that’s just Gina’s loving heart. Bleeding out for anybody who needs it.

Your uncle sits at the end of the table, he’s holding his hand out and looks at you, “Under this roof, we give thanks to the LORD”.

He reminds you gently, softly prodding to see if you’ll accept and join. You glance at his palm, the rough calluses stand out against the soft white lace table cloth, his other hand is occupied with Gina’s much smaller hand and you notice that she too is holding up her hand to you, she encourages you softly with a tilt of her head.

You slowly slip your hand into theirs. You close your eyes and bow your head. There’s a moment of silence before Gina kicks Harold who coughs with a start. He begins with his list of things he is grateful for. You are the first thing on his list. Your heart warms and everything else slips away. You had forgotten what it had felt like to be a part of a family. And you almost want to chide yourself for taking everything for granted as a teenager.

A gentle tug pulls you from your thoughts, “What about you?” he asks.

You look up and find both of them staring at you, “Oh I don’t know..”

You trail off in thought. Your aunt gives you an encouraging smile and lifts one finger, “Just name one thing you are most thankful for”

Your shoulders slump and you think, “I guess I’m thankful to be back, thankful for the amazing birthday I had last Saturday and I’m thankful for meeting…some new people..”

You’ve met a lot of new people these last two weeks. But there’s only one person you’re thinking about. You feel your cheeks heating as you think of his blue eyes peering into your soul.

Your aunt nods excitedly, “There ya go, there’s always somethin’ to give thanks for.”

Your uncle is quiet but he’s got a smile on his bearded lips, “Now we dig in”

As dinner progresses conversation picks up, you give them updates on the garden your ma used to tend to. You tell them that you’ve gotten better at keeping plants alive. Gina laughs because she remembers how heartbroken you used to get when every plant your ma would let you take care of; died.

Your uncle jokes that maybe you’re having a honeymoon period with the plants and it’ll be over before you know it. You shake your hands in the air to try and dispel the curse he just put on you. “No, it can never be over! They will all survive,” you laugh.

By the time dinner ends you offer to help clean up but Gina waves you off. Telling you to sit and enjoy dessert. She brings out her banana cream cookies. Gina tells you that she’s finally perfected the recipe after many failed attempts. Your uncle huffs and points to himself, “at my expense”

She hushes him, “you insisted”

Playful conversation continues. You’re slowly making your way through your first cookie, enjoying the company and the new updates they give you.

You’re on your third cookie when Gina slaps Harold’s arm and sends him a look. You watch the silent showdown that your uncle is losing.

She hesitates, “We-uh..we noticed you been staying at your mom's house more often”

Her voice is gentle, her light brown eyes search your face.

You give her a nod not sure where the conversation is going. “We” She paused, her eyes flickering to your uncle, “have…some concerns”

You laugh, “What kind of concerns?”

You aren’t sure why they’d be concerned, it was your uncle who had encouraged you to start thinking about making your ma’s old home yours. He had been taking care of it for you until you were ready to take on the responsibility. Gina has helped maintain the flower bed out front- a mix of colored roses, daisies, and lilies- and the garden at the back of the property.

While you were away they had even renovated the house to have new appliances and updated the wallpapers and flooring.

You propped your arms on the table, leaning forward to look at them, “I promise I'm doing fine, still unpacking but I’m gettin’ around to gettin’ settled”

You try to reassure them but it doesn’t seem to work. You can tell Gina is getting uncomfortable the longer the conversation goes on. Your eyes travel to your uncle to see him slowly chewing on a cookie. He’s avoiding eye contact and his hulking figure is trying to sink into the seat.

“Wh-Why-What’s goin’ on with you two?” You blurt out.

Your uncle clears his throat, picking up a napkin and wiping his beard and lips, “Someone brought it to m-our attention that a fella has been walking in and out the house”

You aren’t sure if your heart has stopped or if it’s beating too fast, “This about Benny?”

Gina leans forward, her light blue dress ruffles as she clears the table. Glasses clink as she stacks plates and slowly exits from what is sure to be a disaster.

Your uncle’s face is unsure, “Yes and no”

You lean back in your seat, dessert forgotten. A heavy weight has dropped to the pit of your stomach, “Then what is it about?”

It’s silent for a minute. The only sounds being your aunt cleaning dishes. The soft glow of the dining room light feels too bright and oppressive.

“Look, I’ll keep this short; that boy ain’t good for yah” He’s placed his hands over the table, his palms facing the white lace table cloth, “It’s bad enough, you refuse to talk about your time away and now ya got a vandal in your ma’s home, it-”

You cut him off, “You don’t know him and you promised me I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to”

Your uncle's voice is calm and he tries to clean up the can of worms he’s opened up, “I know enough about his type, your ma-”

“Don’t,” you warn, “Don’t say it”

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, peanut,” He sighs in resignation, your childhood nickname slipping from his lips, “You been through too much to end up with-”

“With what? Scum?? Ain’t that what Gina’s pops said about you?” You bark back, “You know nothin’ ‘bout Benny”

He ignores your statement, his heart aching.

“I know enough,” he speaks over your loud scoff, “Boy’s got a temper worse than a bull, you don-”

His implication squeezes your heart, “He’s not him”

“Your ma was so sure of your pa, look how that ended up” your uncle asserts, he remains seated, his brown eyes urging you to listen, “I’m just tryin’ to protect ya”

Before anything happens to ya goes unsaid.

His comment stabs you in the heart. You push the echos of distant screaming. It doesn’t belong in the light, you blink rapidly warding away the memories.

He continues as you keep silent, “I already told him to stop comin'-”

“You did what?” Your frustration starts to build, “It’s not your place to go around tellin’ people they can’t be around me”

Your uncle looks away, his fingers fidgeting with the tablecloth, “He’s no good, you met him once and you already got him in ya bed-” Your uncle shakes his head not wanting to go down that road, “I’m just sayin’ you don’t know enough about him.”

You shake your head, refusing to let the idea of Benny ever gettin’ violent with you be a possibility. “He isn’t, he wouldn’t..”

The doubt is sinking in and you hate it. You hate not knowing if you’ve really met a good man. Or if you’re simply blinded.

“You gotta understand peanut, you take off one day and don’t talk to us for 4 years, 4 years,” He repeats the last bit, his eyes sunken in, worries and stress embedded into his face, “then you show up outta the blue, no warning, bruised up with tears in your eyes, you refuse to talk about why you left and why you came back or what happened, and now you got a damn Vandal at your hip…”

His mouth opens and closes, he’s got no words other than, “We have a right to be concerned ‘bout ya”

He fidgets in his seat, “I think it’s best you focus on healin, seein’ a doctor or somethin’ you know, talk to us, we’re alway-”

“No” You bite out. “I’m fine.”

Your uncle laughs, “Fine? Are you really fine? Peanut, you’re spiraling out of control, we-”

His voice drops and he hangs his head, “I promised your ma, I’d take care of ya, if I say you can’t see this boy-”

“9 years,” you whisper. Your mouth is dry, “I’ve been spiraling for the last 9 years and you’re just now noticing”

His mouth opens and closes, he’s losing control of the situation but then again what else did he expect, “Peanut, plea-”

You shake your head, tears swelling, “It takes you 9 FUCKING YEARS,” Your voice rises, the little girl in you screaming at the top of her lungs, “9 YEARS OF MASKING MY PAIN AND BEING A GOOD GIRL, 9 YEARS OF HIDING BEHIND OBEDIENCE AND YOU CHOOSE NOW?? NOW TO NOTICE I’M SPIRALING”

Now, when you’ve started to feel like a normal girl. With normal concerns and normal friends and a normal…boyfriend?

Your uncle tries to reach over and grab your hand but you pull away, “All because what?? I’ve got a man in my bed??”

You choke on your laughter, “I’ll have you know all we do is sleep. WE FUCKING SLEEP AND HE HOLDS ME”

Your voice quivers, “He just holds me…and you’re tryin’ to take that away from me?”

Your hands grip your head, fingers curling around the base of your scalp, there’s too much going on inside you and all you want is peace.

“I-I” You squeeze your eyes shut, “I can’t do this”

You push away from the table and rush to leave. Your shoulder bumps into the wall knocking over a picture, you race out of the house stumbling as you grab your bag and sweater from the couch.

Your uncle is left staring at the space you once occupied a sad terrible feeling in his chest. He sits in his seat, shoulders deflated.

Gina slowly walks into the dining room, her soft hands rubbing his shoulder, moving to wrap around him in a hug, “Too far?” he asks.

Gina hums. The quiet of the night chilling his bones. Did I ruin everything, he wonders somberly.

–

The night air shrouds you in a heaviness you haven’t felt in a while. It’s quiet, so terribly quiet and you hate it. Your fingers press into your eyes, forcing the tears to return, forcing the memories to die.

Your mouth quivers as memories are thrust to the forefront of your mind,

“It’s alright baby, just hide in here and everything will be okay” Her fingers trembled as she pushed you down into a sitting position. Wiping away the tears staining your face, she begs you to keep quiet. “Shhhh, momma’s gonna take care of everything”

You block the rest of it out. You quicken your pace. You’re running through the street, tears falling despite your desperation to bury it. Bury more memories, more terrible, dreadful thoughts, it’s too much.

It isn’t until you bump into a figure, stumbling to a forceful stop; that you take in your surroundings.

Between the swell of tears, you see Gail’s face with furrowed brows and red lips pursed in concern. The glowing sign of the Vandal Bar shines brightly behind her. You can hear the hustle and bustle of men hollering and cheering on the inside.

You blink and struggle to speak. Your chest tightens and unwanted sobs leave your mouth.

Someone steps out of the bar, It’s Corky, “oh shit, what-?”

“Wh-wh-w-?” You struggle to speak a full sentence so you push out a name, “Benny”

Corky sensing the urgency runs back inside. Gail guides you to sit on the sidewalk. Her arms wrap around your shoulders.

“You’ll be alright sunny,” She whispers, her fingers tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. She stays with you until Benny races out the club doors.

His eyes roam the street till he lands on your sobbing shoulders and bent head, your hands are wiping away furious tears that won’t stop. Gail isn’t sure what to do to calm you down, but she figures the only person who could is Benny, so she slips away, leaving you alone in the silence of the night with Benny’s concerned eyes watching over you.

You feel him sit next to you. His shoulders and thighs brushing against you. You suck in a breath, “I waited for you”

You sniffle, the sound awfully loud in the silence.

He rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t know not showin would lead you to ballin your eyes out, baby”

You don’t glance at him nor do you acknowledge what he’s said. He’s clasped his hands over his bent knees, his eyes staring up at the night sky.

“You listened to him.” You don’t mention who him was exactly but you know that Benny understands. Because he sighs, “He said I’d ruin you.”

He says it quietly, his voice a deep sorrowful rasp. “You’re too good for me…”

You angle your head to look at him, your tears have stopped but you can still feel the wet trail they left behind, “do you want me?”

It’s a bold question, but something you’ve been dying to ask. He fidgets with his rings, his head slowly turns to you his brows furrowed, he bites his lip and he nods. His blue eyes are clear and attentive to your facial expressions.

You’re glaring at him and he finds this amusing, “Then why didn’t you show up”

Benny wants to say something but doesn’t know what. He looks away and stares at his hands, he clasps one over his wrists, “he’s right”

The admission scares him. You’re too good for him. Too pure and innocent. It’s been two weeks of bliss for Benny. You’re the quiet in the storm. The peace in the chaos. He didn’t know life could feel more fulfilling with a lady by his side. But he has you now and he’s never felt so…light. Riding gives him freedom. But being with you gives him peace.

He struggles to find the words to tell you how he feels. To tell you what he thinks but he finds himself remaining silent. Offering the bare minimum of an explanation. None of it explains his heart.

“I’m already ruined,” you bite out. “But..you make me feel… less…broken”

Benny glances at you. He watches as you turn and bite your lip, your eyes flickering away tears. A stark contrast to the happy fun girl he’s witnessed the last two weeks. He recognizes a weight on your shoulders. A weight that he’s carried himself.

“Forgive me,” it’s all he can say as he watches you turn in on yourself. Sinking deeper into your thoughts. He wants to see you smile again. To hear your laugh and watch you dance around carelessly. He wants you to be free of burdens but he doesn’t know how to help.

You shift, adjusting your position on the cold hard sidewalk, you flicker a look in his direction. He’s staring at you with sad eyes, “You have to pick me up every night now. For the rest of your life.”

He blinks not expecting such a simple request for forgiveness, he gives you a smile, “that all?”

“No. You have to give me a ride whenever I want to wherever I want and…”

You try to think of something else, “You have to make me yours.”

You like the way he smirks at you, his left hand reaches out cupping your chin, his thumb brushes your bottom lip which is now bruised from all your biting, “Baby, you were mine the moment you got on my bike”

Taglist: @storiesfromafan , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @preciouslilmonster

[emeraldelysian]

Jeong Yunho ✧ A Heartbeat Away

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Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader Genre: Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst Synopsis: You and Yunho face a temporary long-distance relationship as he tours overseas. Each phone call becomes a lifeline, and as you pick up his daily phone call, you realize you need him more than you thought. Wordcount: 3.1K+ Warnings: Reader Has F. Anatomy; Phone Sex; Voice Kink; Dirty Talk; Praise Kink; Use of "Baby," "Pretty Girl" and "Good Girl;" Note: Okay so I woke up this morning and was inspired by this golden retriever of a man. I'll try to answer all the asks and get to requests soon as well! Please give this love and I hope you all enjoy it!

♡︎ follow, provide feedback, or reblog if you enjoyed but please don't repost or translate!♡︎

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

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Despite expecting the call, the sound of your phone ringing still made you jump. His name on your screen gave you equal pleasure and anxiety, knowing that any of these calls could be the one where he told you that he couldn't do this anymore. That the ocean which separated you while he was on tour was too wide, too deep, too impossible to cross. That the stolen phone calls and midnight texts were no longer enough for him, no matter how much they sustained you.

Pushing your doubts down inside, you swiped your finger across the screen, taking a deep breath as if it could somehow prepare you for whatever he had to say.

"Good morning, cutie!" His voice was bright and you pictured his face bathed in the sunshine, the golden light cascading over his tousled hair, making him look like something out of a dream. You wished you could reach through the phone and touch his cheek, feel the warmth of his smile.

"Good morning! How are you, babe?" Walking from your kitchen to your living room and dropping onto the couch, you looked at the clock on the wall - 8:00 AM where he was. The tea you had been nursing sat on the table, a reminder of the quiet routine you had developed in his absence.

"Better now," he replied, his simple words giving you a euphoric sense that completed and terrified you at the same time, dreading the day that they no longer came. You could hear the faint sounds of chatter and doors closing in the background, perhaps his bandmates grabbing breakfast before another long day of travel and performances.

"I miss you," you said with a small smile, hugging a pillow to your chest as if it were a stand-in for him.

"I miss you too," he replied, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Where are you?"

"I’m at home, just wishing you were here with me," you confessed, looking around the room that felt so much emptier without him. Your eyes landed on the framed photo of both of you from the day before he left, your faces pressed together, countless memories flooding back. "I was just thinking about the day we took that hike up the canyon, remember? And we ended up getting lost for hours, but it was so much fun."

He laughed softly, the sound like a balm for your aching heart. "How could I forget? You kept making me take turns so you could pick wildflowers. I still have the one you tucked behind my ear."

You could almost feel his arms around you as you remembered. "Yeah, I can't wait to go on more adventures with you when you get back."

"Me too," he said, the longing in his voice matching yours. "Just a few more weeks, and we'll be back to our late-night movie marathons and Sunday brunches."

"I'll make sure to save you a seat at our favorite café," you said, trying to keep the conversation light, though your heart ached for him.

"Always," he promised. "Until then, let’s make the most of these moments, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, closing your eyes and holding on to his voice, the connection bridging the distance between you, even if just for a little while.

"How'd your day go?" he asked. He'd almost always ask about your day before talking about his and genuinely made sure to let you know how interested he was everytime he'd hear it.

"It went okay," you paused, unable to hide a hint of sadness in your voice, "but I wish I was there with you."

"I wish you were too," he replied, trying to hide the emotion her statement brought up in him. While he loved touring with the other members, he couldn't help but miss you the longer the tour went on. And he would take a lifetime of these stolen moments over not having her at all, "what time is it there?"

"It's 6PM here," you replied, realizing that his voice wasn't as hushed or hurried as it often was. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the dorm now," he replied, his voice still sounding bright. "The others just went out on an early morning coffee run, but I wanted to stay here and talk to you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Yunho," you didn't know whether it was the tiredness hitting you or just pure delusion from him being on your mind all day, but before you could even think about it, you continued, "You know, maybe we can find other ways to stay...connected."

"I've been thinking about that too," Yunho said softly, after what felt like an eternity. His voice had dropped to a low, intimate whisper that felt like a caress even through the phone.

You continued, "It's been so hard being apart, but I think we can find ways to make the distance feel smaller."

Yunho caught on this time, his breath hitching audibly, "Connected, like now? Over the phone?" The sound of Yunho's voice, rough with desire, permeated the stillness of your apartment, making your pulse quicken.

You shifted slightly, the fabric of your clothes suddenly feeling too restrictive. "I miss your touch so much," you whispered, the words catching in your throat. "Every single night, I think about you."

His breath hitched again, the intimacy of his presence filling every corner of your mind. "I think about you too, baby. Sometimes during my shows, I'll close my eyes and picture you in the front row, just waiting for me to come down and kiss you senseless."

"God, Yunho," you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush even more deeply. "When you're up there performing, I imagine your hands on me, your lips against mine. It's like the whole world fades away and it's just us."

"That's exactly what I want," Yunho said, his voice taking on a sense of urgency. "When I'm back, I want to make every fantasy we have a reality. No more distance, no more longing, just you and me making up for all this lost time."

You could almost feel his hands on you, the way they would wander with a tantalizing slowness, mapping out your body as if he'd never felt anything more precious. "What would you do if you were here right now, Yunho?" you asked, your voice thick with anticipation.

"I'd push you up against the wall, kiss you until you can't think straight. Then I'd carry you to the bed—no, to the couch," he said, his words coming quicker, more heated. "I'd strip you down piece by piece, worship every inch of you. You deserve to be loved like that, pretty girl. Completely, without any reservation."

Your breaths came quick and shallow, your fingers ghosting over your skin in place of his. "It drives me insane knowing you're so far away but feeling so close," you confessed, the longing in your voice unmistakable.

"Close your eyes and listen to my voice," Yunho instructed, his tone laced with lust. "Imagine my mouth on you, my hands exploring every curve and hollow of your body. How I'd kiss you, lick you, make you beg for more."

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering closed as you obeyed. "I can feel it, Yunho. I can feel you here with me," you whispered.

His voice deepened, sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck, pretty girl. I'd start by kissing that spot on your neck that drives you wild. You know the one."

Your hand drifted to your neck, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The memory of his lips there, how they softly grazed and nipped, flashed vividly in your mind. "The one that makes me melt in your arms? Mmm, then what?" you breathed, your voice becoming huskier as the warmth of desire unfurled within you.

"I'd slide my hand under your shirt, cup that perfect breast of yours," Yunho continued, his voice dropping even lower, taking on a commanding edge. "You're not wearing a bra, are you, pretty girl?"

"Nope," you breathed, mimicking his actions and slipping your hand under your shirt. You could almost feel the ghost of his touch, the way he expertly sent jolts of pleasure through you with just his fingertips. "God, I wish it was your hand instead of mine touching me right now. Your touch is magic, you know?"

"I'm glad it is, baby" he spoke, confidence oozing from his words. "I'm hard just thinking about you. About your gorgeous tits, your soft skin." His words painted a picture in your mind, bold strokes of him leaning in, his eyes darkened with desire, the way his pupils dilate when he’s turned on.

Your other hand slipped between your legs, heat pooling in your core. The ache for him grew stronger, almost unbearable. "Oh yeah? Prove it, big boy. Send me a pic." Your challenge was playful, flirtatious, but the underlying urgency was unmistakable.

"You're in for it now," he teased, followed by the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting. Within moments, a photo popped up on your screen. Your breath caught in your throat as you opened it, eyes widening at the sight of him, undeniable evidence of his arousal.

"Fuck, Yunho baby, I want you so bad. I wish I could feel that hardness pressing against me," you whispered, your fingers moving deftly, as if trying to simulate the touch you desperately craved. "Tell me what you'd do next, Yunho. Make me feel like you're here with me."

There was a pause, a tantalizing moment of silence that crackled with anticipation before he spoke again, his voice a low, seductive rumble, "I'd pull those cute little panties aside and slide my fingers inside you, just to feel how wet you are for me. Is that what you want, baby?"

You bit your lip, a soft moan escaping as you imagined his hands on you, his breath hot against your skin. "God, yes. I need you. I need you so bad," you pleaded, every cell in your body tingling with the electric promise of his touch.

"Touch yourself for me, pretty girl," he commented, his voice rough with desire. "Pretend it's my fingers."

You complied, gasping as you slid your fingers through your slick folds. As you moved, you could almost feel his presence, could almost hear his heavy breaths and see that intense gaze that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. "It feels so good. But not as good as your tongue."

"You love when I eat you out, don't you?" His voice was thick with lust. "The way I tease you with the tip of my tongue before diving deep and tasting every bit of you?"

"Yes," you moaned, arching your back. The memory of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could almost feel the ghost of his lips brushing against your inner thighs. "The way you use your tongue, fuck Yunnie, it's magic."

"Tell me more," he urged, his breathing heavy. "What else do you love about when we're together?"

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the memory. "I love how you look at me like I'm the only woman in the world. I love the way your hands feel on my skin, rough but gentle."

"God, pretty girl," he groaned, "You're killing me here. I wish I could touch you right now."

"Soon," you promised, your voice cracking with a mixture of longing and love. "Only a few more weeks before you can come back and do whatever you want to me." The loneliness of the empty apartment seeped into the room, accentuating the distance that separated you both, but you held onto the anticipation of his return like a lifeline.

"Yeah?" His voice was hopeful, a spark of eagerness lighting up his words. "What did you have in mind?"

You grinned, despite the ache in your chest. "Well, for starters, I think I need to christen your Anewz office. Bend me over that fancy new desk of yours." You could almost hear his delighted chuckle, imagining the way his eyes would darken with desire at your suggestion.

His laugh was warm and rich, a sound that felt like home. "Fuck, pretty girl. You're insatiable."

"Only for you," you purred. "Now where were we? Oh yeah, you were about to fuck me senseless." As you moved your fingers in deeper, you could almost feel the phantom touch of his hands guiding you, the memory of your shared nights filling the silence, making you feel like he was right there with you.

"Right," Yunho's voice dropped an octave, dripping with raw need. "I'm stroking, thinking about burying my cock deep inside you. Feeling how tight and wet you are around me as I fill you up." The image of his strong, lean body pressing against yours replayed in your mind, each word tangling you further in the web of your shared longing.

You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your fingers circled your clit with increasing pressure. "Tell me exactly what you'd do to me if you were here." Your body ached in anticipation, skin tingling as if his breath was fanning over it.

His voice was rough with desire, the connection crackling despite the distance. "I'd start by kissing down your body, tasting every inch of your skin," he whispered, his every word painting vivid images in your mind. "Then I'd spread your legs wide and bury my face between them."

You moaned, your back arching off the bed as your free hand clutched at the sheets. You swore you could almost feel his tongue teasing you. "God, yes. And then what?"

"I'd lick you slowly at first, teasing you," Yunho continued, his breathing heavy and ragged in your ear. "Then I'd slide two fingers inside you, curling them just the way you like." His voice was like a dark, sensual caress, surrounding you completely.

You mimicked his words, sliding two fingers into your wet heat, your entire body quivering with pleasure. "Fuck, baby. It feels so good," you breathed, your words coming out in broken, uneven gasps.

"I bet you're so wet for me right now," he groaned, his voice thick with longing. "Aren't you?" The intensity of his need mirrored your own, amplifying the connection between you.

"Yes," you panted, lost in the sensation, your breath coming out in shallow bursts. "So wet. Wishing it was your cock inside me instead of my fingers." You could almost hear the rustle of his clothing, the physical manifestation of his own desperate need to be with you, making you moan louder, caught up in the wave of shared desire.

"Soon, baby," he promised, his voice laced with an eagerness that sent shivers down your spine. "I'd fuck you so hard. Pinning your hands above your head, pounding into you until you scream my name." You could almost visualize his smirk, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes that always made your knees weak.

Your movements grew more urgent, hips bucking against your hand. "Yunnie, baby, I'm so- so close." You could hear the distant hum of traffic outside, but it seemed a world away as you focused solely on his voice and the heat pooling in your core.

"That's it, pretty girl," he encouraged. "Imagine it's me there with you. My hands on your breasts, my mouth on your neck, my cock deep inside you." The electric thrill of his words heightened your arousal, and you could almost feel the ghost of his lips trailing fiery kisses down your skin.

You whimpered, heat building in your core. Your fingers moved frantically, chasing your release. "Yunnie baby, I'm almost there. Please talk me through it." You tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the sensations coursing through your body.

"You're so beautiful when you're about to finish for me," his voice was strained, clearly close to unraveling himself. "I love watching your face, feeling your body tense around me as I fill you up. Let go for me, baby. Let me hear you." His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, grounding you even as your body began to soar.

You teetered on the edge, your body wound tight like a spring ready to snap. "Promise?" you gasped, your climax just out of reach. "Promise you'll be mine, no matter the distance?" Your heart clenched with the vulnerability of your plea, and you bit your lip, waiting for his reply.

"I swear," he groaned, his breathing labored and heavy. "You're mine and I'm yours. Forever. Now cum for me. Cum with me, pretty girl." There was something almost sacred in his vow, the certainty in his words sending your pulse racing.

You moaned loudly, your back arching off the couch. "Yes, yes, baby, please." Your body tensed, every nerve ending ablaze.

"That's it, be a good girl and cum for me," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I need to hear you. I need to feel you."

"Oh god," you whimpered, muscles tensing as you stood on the precipice of release. "Yunnie, I'm gonna-"

Your cries mingled through the phone as you reached your peak, an ecstasy that felt both infinite and fleeting. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as you called out Yunho's name, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You could hear his deep, guttural moans, punctuated by gasps and curses as he found his release.

"Fuck, baby," he panted, riding out the aftershocks with you, the intimacy of the moment transcending the miles between you. "I can feel you clenching around me." His voice was raspy with satisfaction.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, your fingers still moving slowly, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure. "Yunho," you breathed, "That was incredible."

You stayed connected, listening to each other's ragged breathing as it slowly came down from your shared high. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, even through the distance separating you both.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice warm and satisfied.

You smiled, your body tingling with residual pleasure. "I love you too," you whispered back, feeling closer to him than ever despite the miles between you.

After catching his breath, he spoke softly, his voice tender. "We'll make this work, baby, I promise. I love you too much to let you go."

Your body tingled with anticipation, the promise of his return hanging like a sweet allure. "I can't wait, baby," you replied, your voice soft yet resolute. "Hurry back to me."

"I will, pretty girl. And when I do, I won't ever want to let you go." His voice was a vow, wrapping around your heart and tethering you to him even more tightly.

The call ended with a final flurry of tender "I love yous," and as you lay back, a small smile graced your lips. The distance was brutal, but moments like this turned the ache into something bearable, something meaningful.

And with the promise of Yunho's touch just a heartbeat away, you knew that you could hold on a little longer.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— look at this idiotic fool that you made me ; cherish every seconds you have cause you never know when it’ll turn upside down

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The night stretches long and silent, cloaking your room in a stillness that feels both comforting and stifling. You've been lying there for hours, staring at the white ceiling, tracing invisible patterns with your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep. But the quiet isn't enough to lull you into rest. Your thoughts keep drifting back to the dinner, the awkward exchanges, the warmth in Tsukishima's gaze that you can't seem to shake.

You roll over in bed, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders, your pink pajamas soft against your skin, but they offer no comfort tonight. The room feels empty now that your parents are gone, their voices and presence lingering only in your memory. It’s strange, this quiet solitude—something you used to cherish before all these new feelings started creeping into your heart.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the darkness. You grab it, blinking to adjust your eyes, and frown when you see the name on the screen.

Tsukishima ; You still up?

Your heart skips a beat, confusion mingling with curiosity. It’s late—much too late for him to be messaging you, especially after saying goodbye to your parents just hours ago. Without thinking, your fingers move swiftly across the screen.

Yeah, why?

His reply comes almost instantly, making your pulse quicken: I’m outside the building. Can you meet me here?

You sit up abruptly, the blanket pooling around your waist as your mind tries to process what he just said. Outside? At this hour? You rub your eyes and glance at the clock—it’s almost midnight. What could he possibly want? For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the better of you.

Throwing the blanket off, you slip your feet into your slippers and grab your student ID before rushing out of your room, your footsteps muffled by the carpeted hallway. The dormitory feels eerily quiet, the soft hum of the heating system the only sound accompanying you as you reach the entrance. The cold air hits you the moment you step outside, and you shiver, cursing yourself for not grabbing a jacket.

Then you see him. Tsukishima, standing just outside the entrance, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, hands buried deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he waits for you. His tall frame is relaxed, yet there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice a little breathless from both the cold and the sudden rush of adrenaline. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to retain some warmth.

Tsukishima’s eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering for a second on your pajamas before meeting your gaze. “It’s cold out here,” he says simply, his voice steady, but there’s an undertone you can’t quite place.

You blink, confused. “Yeah, I know. It’s almost midnight. Why—?”

“And yet you didn’t wear a hoodie before heading out?” He cuts you off, his eyes narrowing slightly as if your lack of common sense is somehow personal to him.

Your mouth opens and closes, flustered by his bluntness. “I—I didn’t think I’d need one. I didn’t plan on staying outside long,” you mumble, suddenly feeling exposed under his sharp gaze.

Tsukishima sighs, the sound filled with mild exasperation, but before you can protest, he’s already unzipping his hoodie. The fabric rustles softly in the quiet night as he drapes it over your shoulders, his hands brushing against your arms as he adjusts it on you. The warmth from his hoodie seeps into your skin, and you’re enveloped in the faint scent of him—clean, slightly musky, with a hint of something fresh and familiar.

You stand there, frozen, as Tsukishima takes it a step further and zips up the hoodie for you, his fingers lingering on the zipper for a beat too long before he steps back. His silence feels like a command, one you don’t dare disobey.

He doesn't say anything, but the way his eyes linger on you makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s silently telling you to wear it—no arguments. You swallow, nodding slightly, unsure of how to respond.

“Come on.” His voice is softer now, as he reaches for your hand, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. He tugs you gently, guiding you toward his car parked a few feet away.

You follow, too stunned to speak, your mind still reeling from the sudden shift in his demeanor. The wind whips through the open space, biting at your cheeks and making your hair whip around your face. Tsukishima, always composed, doesn’t flinch from the cold, his steps measured and steady as he opens the passenger door for you.

You hesitate for a second, looking at him with wide eyes, but he merely raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to get in. You comply, sliding into the seat as he shuts the door behind you with a quiet click. The interior of his car is warm, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. You watch as he walks around to the back seat, retrieving something before climbing into the driver’s seat beside you.

When he sits down, there’s a small bakery box in his hands. You tilt your head, confused again, until he opens it to reveal two chocolate muffins, each with a small candle sticking out of the top.

Your mouth drops open slightly. “What…?”

“You didn’t get to eat your cake at dinner,” he explains, his voice casual as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. “So I brought you something.”

You stare at the muffins, your chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something else you can’t quite name. “You…did this for me?”

He lights the candles one by one, the soft glow illuminating his face as he nods. “Your mom isn’t around, so you can eat this without her knowing, right?”

His words make you laugh, a light, breathless sound that escapes before you can stop it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away quickly, smiling at him through the soft haze of candlelight.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat as the weight of his gesture sinks in.

Tsukishima shrugs, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Make a wish.”

You stare at him for a moment, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you’re not quite ready to name. Then, closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and make a wish, blowing out the candles as the soft flames flicker and die.

When you open your eyes, Tsukishima is watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten all over again. And in that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hoodie and the dim glow of the candles, you realize something: you’re no longer alone in the dark.

The warm glow from the streetlamp outside cast a gentle light into the car, highlighting the small, cozy space you shared with Tsukishima. You reached into the box with a soft smile, pulling out the first muffin and holding it toward him.

“Here’s the first one for you,” you teased lightly, eyes sparkling. “You get to eat first ‘cause you’re special.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. “I do?” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Well, thank you, I’m honored.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his playful response. That sweet laugh—the one that always escaped when you felt at ease, when it was just the two of you. You took a bite of your muffin, the flavor melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, this is so good. Where did you get these?”

Tsukishima hummed in acknowledgment, swallowing his bite before answering. “You won’t be able to get these again,” he began, his tone casual but hinting at something more thoughtful, “I found a random cake shop still open late—“

“All for me?” You interrupted him, grinning cheekily as you leaned in a little closer, the air between you becoming more playful, yet intimate.

Tsukishima sighed softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “Yeah… all for you.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt like a warm blanket draped over the two of you. As you ate your muffins, you exchanged small, shy glances, and each look seemed to speak louder than words could. There was something special in the air tonight—something you both felt but weren’t quite ready to address.

Just as you were about to take another bite, Tsukishima’s voice dropped to a low whisper, catching you by surprise. “Have I told you this before?” he began, his gaze softening as he looked at you, “you have a really beautiful smile.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. His eyes held a sincerity that made your chest tighten. You blinked, feeling your cheeks flush. “No, you haven’t… but thanks,” you replied shyly, your fingers nervously playing with the muffin wrapper. “You… you have a really nice smile too,” you added, your voice barely audible as you glanced at him bashfully.

Without realizing it, the space between you had slowly diminished. His presence felt closer, warmer, as if the barrier that had always been there had quietly melted away. You couldn’t help but admire the way his glasses framed his face, how his soft eyelashes cast delicate shadows across his skin. His nose scrunched slightly, his brow furrowed in that usual way when he was concentrating, yet somehow, you’d never noticed before how undeniably handsome he was.

Before you could fully process your thoughts, Tsukishima’s hand gently reached out. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart race. The pad of his thumb softly caressed your cheek, and your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath but carrying so much warmth, so much meaning.

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the simple happiness that bubbled in your chest. You had never felt this kind of joy before, a joy that was soft and warm, that made you feel completely seen—like you mattered in ways you hadn’t realized until this very moment.

Then, Tsukishima handed you another small box. You blinked, confused at first, before your curiosity took over. “What’s this?” you asked, a mix of excitement and surprise coloring your voice.

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Your present—obviously,” he said with his usual teasing edge, though there was a softness to his tone now, an almost shy undertone.

You opened the box, and inside was a delicate bracelet. Its design was simple yet elegant, a perfect reflection of your style. You gasped, eyes widening as you stared at it, then back at him. “No way, seriously?” You covered your mouth with your hand in disbelief, your heart swelling with joy.

Tsukishima chuckled softly, his fingers gently taking the bracelet from the box as he clasped it around your wrist. His touch was light, but the simple action sent a jolt of warmth through you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, your excitement overflowing as you reached out and squeezed his hand without thinking. “Thank you so much.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And in that moment, your gaze locked with his, and the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The silence between you was no longer awkward or empty—it was filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

Your fingers, almost on their own, intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the nervous energy building inside you, but it wasn’t the kind of nervousness that made you uneasy. It was the kind that made you feel alive, like something important was about to happen.

You opened your mouth, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I like you,” you whispered, the confession hanging in the air between you. Your voice trembled slightly as you continued, feeling your heart pound against your chest. “I don’t know when it started, but… you always make me feel seen. I… I really like you, Tsukishima. I can’t stop thinking about you, and sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst because it’s all just too much. I—”

You stopped abruptly, noticing the subtle shift in his expression. His teasing smile had vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled away from you, retreating back into his seat, his gaze now fixed on the windshield. The warmth that had filled the car moments ago suddenly felt cold, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Your heart dropped, and you blinked rapidly to push away the sting of tears. “I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to say anything. I—”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The awkwardness hung thick in the air, suffocating your chest. You glanced at him, hoping for any response, but Tsukishima remained silent, staring out of the window.

Feeling a sharp pang of rejection, you hastily removed his hoodie, folding it neatly before opening the car door. “Thanks for tonight,” you murmured, your voice wavering. “I—really appreciated it.”

Before he could respond, you stepped out of the car and shut the door, your legs carrying you swiftly back to the dorm. Tears blurred your vision as you reached the building, your heart aching with every step.

By the time you reached your room, your heart felt heavy, and the thoughts spiraled in your mind. You threw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself, replaying the events of the night over and over again. All this time, you thought you had seen something in his actions—the compliments, the gentle moments, the way he seemed to go out of his way to help you. But now… you weren’t so sure.

Was it all in your head? Was Tsukishima just being kind, and you had misread the signs? You weren’t sure of anything anymore, except for one thing: your heart ached with every beat.

The dorm room felt colder than usual as you curled into a tight ball on your bed, hugging your knees close to your chest. The bracelet on your wrist shimmered faintly under the low light of your lamp, reminding you of the bittersweet memory that had unfolded just moments ago. Your confession replayed in your mind—over and over again—each repetition twisting your heart a little tighter.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the embarrassment that bubbled up inside you. Tsukishima’s silence, his sudden retreat, it all played like a bad dream. And now, you weren’t even sure if you could face him again.

Burying your face into the pillow, you let out a frustrated groan, “Why did I say that? Why now?”

But no matter how many times you questioned it, the truth remained: you liked him. There was no denying it anymore, no pretending that your feelings weren’t there. They were real, and they had spilled out of you like water breaking through a dam.

Maybe you should’ve waited. Maybe you should’ve held back a little longer, but then, how much longer could you have gone pretending that your heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled at you?

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[pinkyqil]

salma p. x reader who's not a footballer

prompt: blind date

location: barcelona

Blind date // salma paralluelo

Salma had been getting restless teasing from her friends and fellow teammates. Especially about her lover life or when she came back from one of her horrid dates that went awful.

"So Salma how did your last date go". vicky asked her with a teasing voice.

"Ugh I don't even want to talk about it spare me please".

"Nope you don't get to butt out of telling us". Pina and patri told her along with esme and ona agreeing with there statements.

She told them how it went especially how the other girl had accidentally spill a drink on her after refusing to give her free tickets to there next game and how she basically got ditched mid date.

"So your telling me she threw her drink on you after you declined her request and left you for someone else". vicky said before bursting into laughter along with the other girl's.

"Very well figured out genius". salma throwing her head back before laughing with them.

"You basically got toyed with amiga I feel bad for you.patri told her

"Thanks for the reminder guys let's go before we have to do extra laps". She told the group of friends before jogging away.

"I feel bad now guys poor salma".vicky told the group of girls as they made there way down

"Yeah". they said in tune before making there way back.

"Salma salma". Ona called up the tall girl trying to reach her before she left.

Upon hearing her name begin called she turned around to a already tried ona.

"Yes".she said

"Are you free tonight?".ona asked her

"Yep got nothing to do but watch a film".

"How about a blind date-".before ona could finish she got a no

"No after what I told you expect me to go on another one especially a blind date?".

"Please think about it I'll send you the details I promise you she's a good one". Ona explained to a very bother salma.

Salma found herself staring at ona's messages for a ungodly amounts of time.her heart and mind kept telling her two different things. Go and just enjoy yourself or stay and avoid going on the blind date knowing whatever could happen.

She decided to go knowing she's dealt with worse slama was never the type to face her challenges but when she did, she definitely takes over.so here she was looking through her closet and looking for the perfect fit to wear knowing that she was definitely going to be late.

She dusted her outfit one last time before heading inside the mini cafe restaurant. the nervousness was gone the moment she felt the cafe peaceful atmosphere. spoting a darked haired woman at the table she mentally cursed herself out for being late.

"Hi sorry for coming in late something came up". she said before taking a sit the moment she looked at you she felt and insanely amount of butterflies in her stomach.

Forget gorgeous you we're breathtaking when her eyes meet yours.

"No worries I didn't have to wait that long".you told her.

The date went smoothly in fact amazing.you both got to know each other a lot more and surprisingly you both had a lot more in common than you thought.

finding out that night she loved going for runs midnight jogs just like you made your heart flutter especially with how flirty she got mid date making you blush hard that you we're probably different shade.

After a while you both took a walk in the beautiful city of Barcelona holding hands breeze in your face and a fresh moment for you both.

"Same time next week". she asked you

"Definitely I really enjoyed the date salma thanks for making it meaningful for me".you told her

"No thank you I was actually contemplating on coming after awful date encounters but I'm glad I did".

The next day salma woke up with butterflies her mind was just filled with thoughts about seeing you and your next date together.

but sadly those thought had been interrupted when she head for training.

First person she saw would be ona who looked over the moon to see her telling from the huge grin she had on her face.

"Soo by the smile on your face I can assume the date went well".

"It did come one let's head down and I'll tell you everything".has she grabbed ona's hand so that they could partner up for drills and she's spils the date tea.

A/n: hope you like it added a lil twit of my own I'm still taking in the 3 player prompt thing all you gotta do is send in a player prompt and location hope y'all like enjoy this fic and has always feedbacks are appreciated 💗

© PINKYQIL

[theemporium]

wait wait wait i just saw the slumblurb party!!! sooo cuteee!!!!

how about 🧸 with daniel and kiddo having a nightmare so they come to your bedroom for cuddles and Danny makes everything better 🥺

-🦡

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Daddy?”

The hour was late. It was long past midnight, it was completely dark outside—pitch black. And it didn’t help that the recent storm had thunder booming, lightning flashing and rain pattering down on the windows since earlier that night. It was a lot stronger than any of them expected. It only got stronger over the late hours. 

It hadn’t been bad when Jasper Ricciardo went to sleep. 

The same couldn’t be said now. 

Maybe it was the howling wind or the branches hitting his window. Maybe it was the flashes of bright light whenever lightning struck or the creaking of the house as it battled the storm. Maybe it was the scary dream he had of a monster breaking into his room as he cried for help.

Or maybe it was all of the above that led little five year old Jasper rushing to your bedroom, clutching onto the little lion teddy his favourite uncle gave him.

Daniel thought he imagined the door to the bedroom opening. He assumed it was a noise from the wind outside, that his sleepy brain was just playing jokes on him. But then he heard soft footsteps pattering against the wooden floor and a small hand tugging on his arm. 

“Daddy? Are you awake?” 

It took him a few seconds to blink his eyes open and focus on the sight in front of him, but when he did, he was wide awake. He took in his son, the teary eyes and the slightly pale face and the way his knuckles were white from how tightly he was holding onto his teddy. He took in the way the boy was sniffling and shaking, the way he looked far younger than his already young age.

“Hey buddy,” Daniel murmured as he quickly sat up, reaching for the small lamp on his bedside table. “What’s wrong?” 

“I–” Jasper opened his mouth but the words got caught in his throat, like he was too scared to admit anything. 

“You can tell me,” Daniel assured him, reaching a hand out for the boy to come closer. “Daddy won’t judge.”

Jasper still looked doubtful. “Badger promise?”

Daniel smiled a little. “Badger promise.”

The boy hardly wasted any time as the words rushed out of his mouth like a dam opening up. “I had a bad dream. It was a scary dream. I didn’t like it. And I know I’m supposed to be a big boy but it—”

“Hey, even big boys get scared,” Daniel told his son as he wasted no time in reaching for the boy, pulling him up onto the bed until the young boy was curled up on his lap and nuzzling himself as close as he could to his father. “I get bad dreams that still scare me too. And do you know what helps?”

Jasper looked up at him with big, brown eyes. “What?” 

“Cuddles,” he said before giving his son a squeeze. “What do you say? Do you and lil Maximus wanna sleep here tonight?”

Jasper looked down at his lion teddy before looking back up at his father. “Can we?”

“Of course you can,” Daniel said with a smile as he lifted the duvet, helping his son slip under before he reached to turn the lamp off. “We can protect each other from bad dreams and monsters.” 

“You can beat any monster, daddy,” Jasper whispered as he nuzzled into his father’s side, the lion teddy squished between their bodies. “You’re stronger than them.”

His chest tightened with pride. “Hell yeah, I am. And you’re gonna grow up to be just as strong. And then me and you will protect mummy together.”

“I think mummy is stronger than both of us,” Jasper admitted and Daniel didn’t hide his snort.

“Yeah, I think so too, buddy.”

.

[oo-delallymrcrow]

A Slice of Love

A/N: Ur my fav cooper howard writer all ur writing is so good 🤭🤭 could i request some coop smut? I had the idea of him being like really depressed after the divorce and frequenting this dinner like every night. He started going initally to drown his sorrows in pie but then he kept going because he started falling for the night shift waitress. Hes like rlly embarrassed about it bc hes old and jusr got divorced but shes all he can think about like a love sick puppy. Idk if you do 2nd person but if you do could i request this be in 2nd person too ty :))

I hope this is what you wanted 😆 it took me a while, but it was fun writing this. So I hope you enjoy. I also messed up and didn't do it in second person but don't worry I went back to fix that so if I missed something I am sorry.

18+ no minors, wrap it before you tap it, whole different meaning to creampie

The bell above the dinner rang out. It was getting close to midnight so ot was a loud sound in the small diner. You looked up from the counter you were cleaning to see a tall man come into the diner. He looked around for a second to take in the scene.

A young couple was sat in a booth talking quietly to themselves lost in their little world. An older gentleman sat at the bar, nursing a hot coffee and having a piece of pie.

He nodded to me in greeting but you noticed his eyes didn't meet with yours. He then sat himself in a corner booth. You finished wiping off the counter and walked up to Bobby, the old man at the bar.

“Need more coffee Bobby?”

“Nope all good here dear.”

You nodded with an alright before walking to the corner booth. You stopped in front of the man and pulled out a pad and pen.

“Welcome to Ruby’s Dinner. Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, how about a cup of coffee.”

“Nothing else?”

“No thank you.”

You walked over to the pot of fresh coffee and bring him a mug and poured his coffee out for him.

“So what brings you in here this late?”

“Just need a different view.”

You sat for a minute for him to continue but he didn't. You walked back over behind the counter and started sorting the silverware. The young couple walked over to the register and you met them there. You rang up their total before the woman gasped.

“Darling is that who I think it is?”

The man handed you the cash before following her pointed finger. He scoffed as he shook his head.

“Sure is baby. That's Cooper Howard.”

You glanced over your shoulder to said man they were talking about. He was just staring out the window with his mug between his hands. You turned back to hand the man his change and added in polite conversation.

“The movie star?”

The man scoffed again, “Yeah that washup. He sold himself out to vault-tec and ruined his career. Then his wife divorced him and took everything. He's nothing at this point.”

The couple walked as the lady on his arm giggled at his explanation. But you just didn't understand why they judged him. Yeah he's a movestar but that doesn't mean we know everything about his life. You walked by the display of sweets and stopped. You pulled out a piece of cherry pie and placed a dollop of whipped cream on top. You then grabbed the pot of coffee and the pie.

Walking over to the man, now you know as Cooper Howard, and placed the plate in front of him. As you set the plate down it startled him out of whatever thought he was in. He stared at the pie before looking up at you.

You felt most of the air leave your lungs as the diner light caught the color in his eyes. They were pretty like a dark forest. He pointed at the pie.

“I didn't order this.”

“I know.” You looked down as you filled his cup again. If anything, to catch your breath as his eyes stayed on you the whole time. You smiled and took a step back, catching his eyes again. “But everyone deserves a little sweetness.”

You then turned and walked back into the kitchen. Walking over to the walk-in fridge and standing in there for a while. You waited until the heat went away from your cheeks and walked back out. Harvey was cleaning the grill as you walked past.

“You good kid?”

“Yep all good Harv.” You grabbed a wet rag and walked back out into the dining room before walking over to the empty table that the couple left.

Cleaning it off was a quick process but you felt hot from someone staring. Knowing its Cooper Howard and you try your best to ignore it but can feel your cheeks get warm again. You turned to take the plates back and catch his eyes again. He smiled as you walked past and you smiled back. When you came back out he was standing by the register.

“Was that all for you tonight?”

“Yes miss. That pie was delicious thank you for that.”

You smiled as you rang him up for the coffee.

“Alright that will be thirty-two cents.”

He stopped and was confused, “what about the pie?”

“On the house tonight.”

He looked down before pulling out the money and handing it to you. You smiled and realized he was blushing. You hummed as you handed him his change and a receipt.

“I hope you have a wonderful night sir.”

“You too miss.”

You walked over to clean up his table and smiled at the empty plate.

—----------------------------------------------------------

It was another week before you saw him again. It was earlier that night. You still had a few tables with people eating late diners and Bobby at the counter again. You helped the next customer before turning around at the bell running out. It was Cooper again. He caught your eye as he was glancing around. You gave him a smile before turning and giving an order to Harvey.

You turned and watched Cooper settle himself down on a stool at the counter instead of taking a booth. You took in a breath before walking out to greet him.

“We'll hello again sir.”

“Hello and uh call me Cooper please.”

“Alrighty then Cooper,” You drawled out as you smiled. “What can I get you today?”

“Coffee please miss.”

“Y/N please. If I get to call you Cooper.” You placed a mug in front of him and poured out his coffee. “You can at least call me by my name.”

He chuckled as he lifted the mug up to his mouth, “Alright then Y/N.”

You had to turn around and make yourself busy as he said your name. The southern voice made you melt a little and you always loved a cowboy. After the night he was here, ypu went home and turned on your TV to see that they were playing a Cooper Howard movie. It made you fall a little in love with his character and wanted to just hear him talk forever with that twang.

You grabbed the next order as Harvey put it out and walked over to the table to give it to them. You had a great thought of giving him another pie as you walked past him. Walking back to the kitchen and pulling out a tub of vanilla ice cream. You popped a slice of apple pie into a warmer for a bit before putting it on a plate and scooping a bit of the ice cream next to it. You grabbed a cherry pie with whipped cream for Bobby before walking out.

You gave Bobby his pie and got a ‘thanks dear’ for it before walking over and placed the apple pie in front of Cooper. He was surprised and licked his lips as he looked up.

“More pie?”

“You deserve some sweetness Cooper.”

You turned and helped people at the register but couldn't keep the burning off your cheeks as you continued on with your shift. You could feel the heat of his gaze every time you walked past him but other than that you both didn't interact. It wasn't until he was ready to pay did you talk to him again.

“How was everything tonight Cooper.”

“Delicious like last time Y/N. How much do I owe you?”

“Same as last time,” you blushed as he shook his head.

“Now sweetheart. You can't keep giving me pies without letting me pay for ‘em.”

“But you don't ask for them. I give them to you as a gift.”

You chuckled as he just shook his head again. He paid for his coffee and put a couple dollars in the tip jar.

“I'll at least make sure you're taken care of.”

He flashed a bright smile and you couldn't help but blush. As he walked out you couldn't help the sigh that escaped. A chuckle came from your left and turned to see Bobby.

“You look like a little puppy in love girl.”

You pouted as you cleared Cooper's dishes.

“I do not.”

“Uh huh.” He shook his head as you walked past.

‘You were not in love.’

—----------------------------------—---------------------

‘Shit. You may be in love.’

Over the past few weeks it became a little routine. You would work late at night. Cooper would come in for a cup of coffee and you would serve him whatever pie you had for the day. He was polite and always seemed to charm with his little southern accent. Always loving a man with an accent.

As time went on, the laughter that didn't quite reach his eyes started to become genuine. There was a sparkle in his eyes again that shone just right when you could catch them.

A few times he actually ordered a meal. You would bring it out to him and he would let you steal a few fries off his plate if it got busy. You would still bring him a pie then he would ask with his southern charm to share a bite with him.

When there were quiet moments between pie bites, he would opened up a bit about his life. Who he is. What he did before the networks stopped working with him. The divorce and the custody battle.

You sat and let him just talk. He seemed like he had no one to talk to about this and you were happy to just sit and listen. When he cried, you couldn't help the little tears that slipped out.

You just couldn't believe this sweet man was going through so much. You just wanted to hold him and let him just hide away from the world. To just take care of him because he deserved to be taken care of.

“I'm so sorry that happened to you Cooper

I just could not imagine the pain your going through.”

He nodded as he wiped a few tears away. He smiled a little as he looked out the window.

“Out of everything though, I'm just happy I can still have Janey in my life. I do everything for her and I just want to make her proud of her dad.”

You couldn't help but to reach out and take his hand in yours. He stopped and looked at your hands then up. You gulped a little as you just stared at your hands.

“You, Cooper Howard, are a good man. You are a wonderful father to Janey and you show that by still being good to her and your ex-wife. After everything you still show people kindness. That makes Janey proud of you. By being good to people.”

It was silent for a few minutes and you slowly moved your hand away before Cooper wrapped his hand around your wrist. You gasped in surprise, looking up at Cooper as he smiled.

“Thank you darlin'. That means so much to me coming from you.”

You blushed and just waved away what he was saying.

“I'm just a waitress-”

“You're a waitress that showed me kindness,” he stopped me. You were just watching as his thumb rubbed against your pulse point.

“I heard that couple the first time I came in. They called me a washup and I deserved what happened to me. And you-” he shook his head with a laugh. “You didn't say any mean thing. You brought me a pie and said ‘everyone deserves a little sweetness’. I didn't think it was true but you kept being sweet to me. You always brought me a pie and talked with me. Even when you were running around busy.”

You laughed as you looked around at the now empty diner. As you turned to face him again you stopped to take him in. His eyes were tracing over myou before they stopped at your lips. You licked them subconsciously and he did the same. He caught your gaze and you felt a fire ignite inside of you. You glanced at the clock above the door, jumping as Harvey took a step out. His eyes shot between you too before nodding his head.

“You good at closing on your own?”

You nodded as you stood up. “Yeah I got it Harv. Have a goodnight.”

“You too,” he yelled out as he walked away. You stood for another few minutes before moving over to the front door and locking it, turning off the open sign. You started going through the motions of closing up before realizing Cooper was still there.

You stopped turning up the chairs to look over at Cooper who was just watching. You blushed before clearing your throat.

“Sorry Cooper I almost forgot to ring you up.”

“You're good darlin’.” He then stood and walked over to you as he pulled his wallet out. “How much do I owe you.”

“On the house today Cooper,” you felt yourself get breathless as he stopped right before you. You raked your gaze up from his chest to his face and saw he was already watching you. He licked his lips again as he put his wallet away.

“How ‘bout I pay you back I'm a different way.”

You tilted your head before he took another step forward. He had you pinned against the table and you threw your hands up to his chest as he placed his hands beside my hips on the table. He was leaning into you as his lips brushed against your ear.

“I hope I'm not being too forward when I say I want to try a different sweetness tonight.”

Your eyes shut tightly as a shiver ran through your body. You shook your head no as you grabbed onto his shirt. You felt his lips brush against your forehead and down your cheek. He brushed them against your lips and you couldn't stop the whimper of a please before he crashed his lips against yours.

You moaned as one hand grabbed your waist and the other wrapped around you to pull you even closer to him. You couldn't move away from him even if you wanted to. Being held this close was making you shake with need as you ran a hand up and into his hair. He pulled back to lick at your lips and moaned.

“Just sweeter than fucking pie.”

You moaned as you felt him through his pants and started panting like a bitch in heat.

“Cooper please. I need you.”

“Yeah darlin’? Do you need little ol’ me?”

He pushed his hips against you as you nodded yes. His hand got tangled in your hair as he pulled it back until you were nose to nose. You opened your eyes to see his burning with lust.

“Can you say it for me darling? Tell me you want me. That you need me. Please darlin’ I want to hear you say it.”

You moaned and closed your eyes as your thighs squeezed together. God, this man was so sweet and you just couldn't understand why everyone is so mean to him. You opened your eyes and could see more in his eyes. It wasn't just lust, there was a need to be wanted. And you were so happy to give it to him.

“Please Cooper. I need you. Please, I want you so badly. I need you to take care of me please.”

He slammed his lips against yours again and lifted you up onto the table. The skirt you were wearing gave him easy access to rub his hand against your panties. Making you roll your hips as he slowly rubs the wet spot that just keeps getting worse with the way he's handling you. His fingers slightly pressed harder to your clit and it made you pull away with a gasp.

“Can I take these off, sweet girl?”

You nodded as he placed a hand on your chest to push you down so you were laying flat on the table. You placed one foot on the table to lift your hips up so he could pull your panties down. He quickly put them into his back pocket before lifting your skirt up to see your pussy. You blushed as he cooed at you while he pushed your legs up.

“Look at you. You're so wet for me. Did I do this to you sweet girl?”

You whined out a yes as he ran a finger up your slit and rubbed your clit. You couldn't help but reach up to pull at his shirt. Pulling him down as you pushed up to meet him in a kiss.

“Cooper,” you moaned as he pushed a finger into you. “please just fuck me.”

He was trailing his lips down your neck before he pulled back to stare into your eyes.

“Are you sure? I don't have any protection with me.”

You kissed him again as you reached down to rub his cock through his pants. He pulled away with a hiss and bucked into your hand.

“It's alright. I want this and I know you want this too.”

He nodded as he fully pulled away from you. He fumbled with his belt buckle but quickly shoved his pants and underwear down. You couldn't stop your mouth from opening in awe at the size of him and reached out to stroke him. He groaned and threw his head back as he let you before grabbing your wrists to stop.

“You keep that up and I won't last.”

You giggled but laid back as he pushed your thighs up and wrapped both arms around them to pull you closer to him. You gasped as he shoved your legs up and rubbed his cock against your opening.

“You sure darlin’?”

“Yes,” you moaned as he pushed into you. You couldn't stop as your eyes began to water at how hot and heavy he felt inside of you. He pushed until he was fully inside and then stopped to breathe. You both sat there for a minute panting as he got comfortable. You wiggled your hips and he moaned before pulling out just to slam back in.

You squealed at the feeling and scrambled to hold onto his shirt. One hand grabbed the side of the table as one of his hands slammed down next to your hip as he leaned into you, almost bending you in half.

You couldn't help the noises that were coming out of your mouth as he kept moving. He just smiled and watched your face as he kept his pace. He suddenly shifted his hips and hit the spot that devastated you. You pulled his shirt until he was on top of you as you cried out.

“I'm close! Please, please just right there.”

“Are you gonna cum sweet girl? Come on, you can cum on my cock sweet girl. You deserve it.” He cooed into your ear as he kissed your cheek and captured your lips.

He snuck a hand between you and pressed against your clit. Giving it a little rub before you came with a cry of his name. As you tightened around him, you could feel his cock twitch when he trusted a few more times before coming inside of you.

You just saw white for a minute as the ringing in your ears died down and your shaky limbs relaxed. You were panting and carefully reached up to run your hand through Cooper's hair. He murmured something before nuzzling into your neck. You laughed as he cuddled with you.

You blinked your eyes open to finally see the dining room. You could feel both of your juices running down your thighs and settling under your ass. You pushed his shoulder with a groan.

“I gotta finish cleaning up, and clean myself up.”

He groaned but lifted himself up enough to kiss you. It was slower and sweeter than the way he was kissing before. You both smiled into the kiss before he slowly pulled out of you. You both hissed at the feeling before he leaned over and grab a few napkins to clean you both up.

“I'm gonna need a shower,” you sighed as he finished. He smiled and helped you stand, making sure you were stable before speaking.

“That makes both of us. Mind if I join you?”

You smiled as you grabbed his shirt and brought him down to kiss you again. His hand came down to squeeze your ass before his other hand came down to rub a finger against your wet pussy. You moaned before taking a step back.

“Help me finish closing and then you can join me.”

You never seen someone be so happy with mopping but you couldn't blame the man with how fast you finished wiping down the table. Both of you giggling and smiling as he drove you home that night for a long weekend.

Taglist: @danveration

[lipringlrh]

him | CL16 & LN4

summary: you and charles have begun to form a relationship, but you can't help but call your ex whilst he sleeps.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader, lando norris x fem!reader

an: my first f1 fic!!! please like + reblog it means the world to me :) requests are open!!

word count: 2.1k

warnings: kind of cheating but no one’s officially together, everyone is a little shitty but probably reader most (depending on your point of view)

feedback appreciated!!!

…

“Why are you calling me again? Aren’t you with him?”

It was past midnight and you should’ve been asleep. But you weren’t, instead, you were on the phone with your ex-boyfriend whilst in bed with one of his friends.

Charles was asleep next to you, face down, with an arm thrown over your waist. He looked pretty: his face pressed against the pillow, overcome with a look of calm. Yet you still wished he was someone else.

“Hello?” His voice on the phone was rough, you knew he’d been asleep but you didn’t care. You knew he kept the sound turned on on his phone at night, waiting for your call.

“Lando,” It was the same conversation every night but you still never knew what to say.

“Miss me again? Where’s your new boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Lando, you know that.” It was complicated what you and Charles had; you weren't together but you acted like you were, engaging in couple-y activities. You weren't official; you weren't even exclusive. You both were allowed to see other people but you both said you preferred not to, or at least, that's what he thought.

“Doesn’t change anything though, you still wish he was me, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t. It felt like he knew your every thought so you didn't even need to reply.

“So is he still in your room?” Lando sighed. He hated these late night conversations and felt just as guilty as you did but he couldn't help but continue with them. He craved any communication with you, even if it was hurting himself and two people he loved in the process.

“He’s next to me," you whispered, ridden with guilt. You were disappointed in yourself more than anything, from both the situation and the fact that you were becoming more careless every night; Charles could wake up any second and realise you were whispering promises to one of his closest friends, but he never did.

“Next to you? You’re not even leaving the room to call me now?”

“Lando..”

“What’s going to happen when you get yourself caught, hmm?” He was teasing you now. He didn't care if you got caught anymore - of course he would feel guilty for a while but it meant he could have you to himself again, and that's all he wanted.

“He’s your friend too.”

There was silence after that. You both were in it as much as the other but it was much easier for Lando to forget.

“Come see me tomorrow, yeah?"

It was dangerous, seeing Lando in a public space where anyone could see, but his team had become good at hiding the usual occurrence. They knew to hide it from reporters and the public, any other teams and drivers, and especially Charles. And they didn't ask questions.

They saw you sneak off into his drivers room every race and whilst they speculated what went on, they made sure it never left the McLaren rumour circle.

And just like usual, you were with Lando pre-race in his drivers room. Everyone knew now, there was no questions on whether you should be let in because everyone just knew. You were with Lando, official or not, and he would not be happy with anyone if you weren't let in.

"So… you told me to come here, we're not just going to sit in silence, are we?"

"You would've come if I hadn't told you to. We end up here every race, todays no different."

"It feels like it is."

He was slightly taken aback, but he didn't let it show. "Maybe because you're careless?"

"Sorry?"

"At least leave the room when you call me. Not whilst your boyfriend is barely asleep next to you. I know you call me the second he's knocked out."

"He's not my boyfriend. How many-"

"So that makes this all better then, does it?"

"You're bothered about the situation now? Me and Charles aren't together, and we've said we can be with other people. What happened to your 'he got with my ex-girlfriend, it's no different' attitude."

"Because I feel bad."

Right before a race was not the time for this conversation, both you and Lando knew it, but it had been brewing for a while and there was no way of stopping it.

"I feel bad too Lando, this isn't my ideal situation either." You talked much softer now, it was a harsh topic that both of you tended to ignore when you were together.

"Then leave him."

"What?" You weren't shocked, you knew he would ask it one day but you always thought you'd be able to tell that he wasn't completely serious about it. But not one part of you was sure.

"Come back to me, please." He wanted to beg - he'd do whatever it takes.

"Lando, no."

"Lando, yes."

"Please, no Lando, I think there's a real chance I could love him and it work out."

He didn't know what to say - he didn't want to speak. He didn't want to compete with Charles in this instance, he wanted you and his vision of you both in the future as soon as you could. "So there's no chance of you loving me and it work out?"

"We didn't work out before for a reason, Lando, it'll happen again."

"We've made this work, we can make that work."

"This is built up of lies and deceit, what makes you think our relationship would be any different?"

"Because I love you and need you with me for the rest of my life. I will make it work one way or another," his voice broke, adding to the tears collecting in his eyes. They were red; swollen, and you so badly wanted to hold him until he let it all out but you couldn't. It hurt you physically to restrain yourself, but it was the right thing to do.

"I-"

You were cut off by a knock at the door and you couldn't tell if you were grateful or not. You both stood in silence, hoping the other would answer but no one did. The next round of knocks came and you decided to suck it up, saving Lando from the person outside hearing his voice on the verge of crying. "Is everything okay?"

Neither of you had broken eye contact. His eyes were red, about to burst and you just looked at him with sorrow. "Sorry to bother you but Charles is looking for you, he wants you really badly it seems. Pre-race talk or something, it doesn't look good."

Turns out, Charles did want you very badly. He'd been pacing back and forth for what felt like hours, stressing out about his upcoming race, and just needing a destresser. He had dragged you into a room, trying to calm down, varying talking from subject to subject. You didn't know how the subject had gotten to what it had, but you were frozen in shock, unsure of how to feel.

“I’m in love with you, chérie. I know we haven't put a label on anything yet, but I want to now. I just think that-" He rambled on, too passionate to notice the door opening and closing behind him, but you noticed it, "-and I think we could be perfect together, I just love you and I-"

You couldn't look at him, instead keeping your gaze focused on the man who had obviously been listening in to your conversation and wanted nothing more than to put an end to it. Charles couldn't help but notice your misfocus and finally noticed who was stood behind him the whole time.

"Lando- oh hey- you okay? Could you give us a minute?"

"I'm alright, I'll think I'll stay,"

"Lando.." you whispered. He hadn't taken his eyes off of you the entire time, even when replying to Charles; he wanted to take the time to read you and figure out what you were thinking. He didn't care about what Charles did and his feelings, only whether your felt them back.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll take a seat."

"You know?" Charles questioned, watching Lando pull up a seat at the opposite side of the room. He realised it was stupid question the second it slipped from his mouth; Lando kept up with everything you did, of course he knew.

"Of course I know. One of my most trusted friends trying to get with my ex-girlfriend whilst he knows I'm still in love with her. Yeah I know." He was disgusted with his friend and made it known. Yeah, he had done shitty stuff too but he would've been a lot more respectful if Charles didn't do it behind his back.

"Lando, maybe it's better-"

"No Charles, carry on professing your love to my girl."

"Lando, I'm not your-"

"No, can you please leave? You ruined your chance, it's my turn. It's not fair you get another chance." Charles couldn't believe Lando's attitude and Lando couldn't believe Charles' audacity. You, well, you just couldn't believe it was happening and happening like this.

"She was my girlfriend. You were my friend and went behind my back to get her to fall for you, it's only fair I can do the same. And don't get me started on you." He looked at you, with both stars and disappointment in his eyes.

"Leave her out of this."

"Do you want to tell him, sweetheart, or should I?" Lando was teasing you now; playing your game. He wanted the upper hand on Charles and was using the truth to prove he had it all along.

"I've still been talking to Lando, whilst we've been together and-"

"Calling me whilst you've been asleep mostly-"

"And occasionally meeting up with him."

Lando kept his eyes trained on you, not breaking eye contact even when Charles was looking between you both in a frenzy.

"Oh,"

"Charles-"

"No, I get it. We agreed we could see other people, I just didn't realise you were." He sounded broken; he was broken. He felt so stupid that he didn't realise. His eyes were welling up but he desperately tried to hide it. He'd thought about the fact there was a chance you were still hung up on your ex previously, but he pushed it to the back of his mind, telling himself he was just overthinking.

Your head was in your hands as you contemplated sliding down the wall and curling into your knees. The whole situation was a mistake - you didn't know what you wanted and it was all your fault. It was bound to come out sooner than later, you were planning to tell Charles what was happening, before it was all too late, but it came out in the worst way possible. Karma, you guessed.

"We weren't together, chérie, you were allowed to do that, it just hurts a little. We could be okay though, no?" He sounded so hollow - technically what you did didn't break any rules but it was morally bad and deceitful and you couldn't help but feel endlessly guilty.

"No but it's wrong- so wrong. And I've lied and hurt you- both of you."

"If anything, I'm as bad as you, I tried to get you back behind Charles' back," Lando spoke quietly, almost as though he didn't want to say it. He was moving closer each moment, until he eventually was stood by Charles in front of you.

"And I went behind Lando's back to get you in the first place." Charles mumbled in the same guilty tone. Charles knew they'd all wronged at least one other, some much worse than others, but he be damned if he let you feel all the blame.

"That was pretty shitty,"

"Not as shitty as you going-"

"Stop it please, We've all done really, really shitty things. I just need a minute," You still hadn't moved from being slumped against the wall, feeling as though it was the least confrontational position.

Both men were staring down at you, not moving either. You had two men, head over heels in love with you, a scene you thought would be from your dreams, but instead you were almost a crying mess.

"Then you can pick." Lando whispered before nodding at Charles, in both reassurance and competition. He wanted you okay but he also wanted you to himself and he wasn't a patient man, "You obviously love one of us. Which is it?"

f1 masterlist | requests are open + feedback is appreciated

[drewharrisonwriter]

A Better Man

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter goes back to a place he knows so well just to get a glimpse of a life he could have had.

Word Count: 2k words

Notes: IDK, I'm way into Dieter again these days, and thought of writing this fic that's full of yearning lol

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

I pull up to the house slowly, like I’m sneaking up on it. The engine hums under my grip, vibrating through the steering wheel, and I kill it with a sharp twist of the key. The quiet settles in around me, and I just sit there, staring at the place I used to know so well.

It’s funny. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m not the sentimental type—at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years—but somehow, I always end up right back here. Your house. The one you made a home, way back when everything felt so damn simple.

It’s been a while. The shutters are a different color now, a soft blue. You used to complain about how you never had time to take care of the garden, but it looks… alive now. Somebody’s been looking after it, after you. It’s like the house moved on, but me? I’m still stuck.

I lean back in the seat, staring through the windshield. I remember this place, and I remember you—us. Those days when I’d crash on your couch, no questions asked. The nights we’d laugh too loud, talk too much, and I’d forget, just for a second, about the chaos waiting outside your door. This used to be the one place that felt like it could be something real.

I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m back there, in those moments that play like an old movie I can’t turn off.

–

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, my shoulder brushing against yours as we sat on the steps of your porch. The air was thick with the scent of your jasmine plant—always too sweet, but you loved it, so I never complained. I looked over at you, trying to hide my nerves behind a grin. “Just you, me, and this crappy little neighborhood.”

You laughed, and God, that laugh—it’s like a shot of adrenaline, better than any drug I’ve ever touched. “You say that now, but you’ll get bored. You always do.”

I wanted to argue, but I just shrugged, picking at the loose thread on my jeans. “Not with you,” I said softly. “You’re the only thing I never get tired of.”

You gave me this look—like you knew something I didn’t. “We’re not like that, Dieter. We’re... something else.”

I tried to smile, but it felt wrong. “Yeah, sure. Something else.” But I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not when everything was changing so fast. I could feel it slipping away, and I didn’t know how to hold on.

–

I showed up at your door, way past midnight. I was drunk, pissed off, and lost, but you still opened up, just like you always did. No questions, no judgment—just you in your pajamas, hair a mess, eyes sleepy but warm.

“Dieter, it’s late,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I just... I needed to be here,” I said, brushing past you into the living room like I belonged there. And for a while, I think I did. I slumped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “Everything’s fucked. I fucked up.”

You sat down next to me, close but not too close. You always knew how to give me just enough space to breathe. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I looked at you, and for a second, I forgot about the headlines, the shitty reviews, the people tearing me apart for the mess I’d made of my own career. “You ever think... maybe we should’ve done this differently?”

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half sad. “Done what differently?”

I shrugged, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. “Us. This. Everything.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “We are what we are, Dieter…”

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. So, I did what I always do—I let the moment pass, hoping it wouldn’t be the last.

–

“I’m done, Dieter. I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hung in the air, and I could feel my chest tighten. You stood there, calm but determined, like you’d been preparing for this moment for a long time. I tried to read your face, but it was like staring at a wall—no cracks, no second thoughts.

“What do you mean, you’re done?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “We’ve been together for years! We fight, we figure it out. That’s what we do.”

You exhaled, shaking your head slowly. “We’re not together, Dieter. Not really. Not in the way that matters.” You paused, searching for the right words, and I hated how composed you were while I felt like everything was falling apart. “I want a real relationship, Dieter. I want to feel like I’m more than just the person you run to when your life is spiraling. I want something that’s going somewhere.”

I stared at you, thrown by how final you sounded. “We are going somewhere. It’s just… complicated. But we can figure it out.”

“Complicated?” You scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Dieter, I’ve been with you through your worst. Through the scandals, the press, and the stretch of weeks you didn’t even call me because you were too drunk or too high to even remember who you were with. And I stood by you, I waited for you… waiting for things to get better, but they never did. And you know why? Because you never wanted them to.”

“That’s not true,” I argued, frustration bubbling over. “I love you, you know I do.”

“But what is that worth?” you said, your voice finally breaking, the tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “Love isn’t enough when I’m stuck living half a life with someone who can’t even be bothered to call me just because... You can’t even take me out to a decent meal. The best I get is my couch, or sitting in a Five Guys parking lot, eating drive-thru in your car with the windows tinted so dark that no one sees us. That’s not a relationship, Dieter. It’s barely even anything.”

I tried to speak, but every excuse felt thin and worn out. You were tired of the same old lines, the same old promises that things would change. And deep down, I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how.

“It’s not that easy,” I said, frustration lacing my voice. “I can’t just—”

“That’s the point!” you interrupted, your voice rising as you lost that calm veneer. “I don’t want it to be this way. And I can’t ask you to change your life for me, I won't even want to do that… to put me in your world when I know that no one would believe it if I even tried to scream it out loud that you love me. Who would believe some girl like me? Living this mundane life, far away from the adventures you’re off having when you’re not here, when you’re not hiding away with me.”

You softened for a moment, a flicker of the love we once had shining through the hurt. “I love you too, Dieter. But love isn’t enough. Not when I can’t even call you my boyfriend, not when I’m just the girl you go to hide away when it’s convenient.”

You looked at me, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. “I need more than this. I need more than stolen moments and secret meetups. I need someone who isn’t afraid to be with me, who wants to be with me. And you’re not that person, Dieter. You never have been.”

The finality of your words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to fight, to tell you that I could change, that we could make it work, but deep down, I knew you were right. I’d always been too afraid to give you what you deserved, and now I was paying the price.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow and inadequate. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You nodded, tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “So am I,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough when it’s not.”

You turned to open the door, and I watched you go, my heart breaking as the door closed behind you. You didn’t even stop to hesitate or even look back… I wanted to run after you, to pull you back and promise that I’d be better, that I’d be the man you needed. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And that was the moment I lost you—for good this time.

–

I don’t even know why I’m here, but I can’t seem to stay away. I park a little down the street, close enough to see but far enough to not be seen, and I watch through the large windows of your house. It’s early evening, the lights are on, and I can see you moving around the kitchen, your silhouette framed against the glow.

You’re different now. Softer. Happier. And as my eyes drift lower, I see the subtle curve of your stomach, round and unmistakable. You’re pregnant. Again.

It hits me like a punch, the memory of the first time I saw you like this. I remember the way your body changed, how your skin seemed to glow, how you moved with this new grace that had me staring at you like I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You were carrying someone else’s child, but all I could think about was how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to be the one to fill you up, to make you mine in every way possible.

You shift, one hand resting on your growing belly, and I feel it all over again—the longing, the jealousy, the regret. I’d lie awake at night, thinking about you, about what it would feel like to be the one who got to hold you when you were swollen with life, about the softness of your body pressed up against mine. And now, it’s like I’m being forced to watch the life I could have had unfold right in front of me.

You laugh at something, one hand absentmindedly smoothing down your shirt, and there’s this guy—your husband, I guess—walking in from another room. He leans in, kisses you on the cheek, and it’s so damn domestic that it makes me sick. I don’t even know him, but I hate him. I hate how he gets to have you in ways I never could.

I watch as he rests his hand on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles that make you smile. It’s intimate, tender, and I can’t tear my eyes away. You look so content, so fucking perfect, and all I can think is that I’m the idiot who let this slip through my fingers.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles white as I fight the urge to storm up to that door and tell you everything I’ve been too scared to say. I want to tell you that you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, that I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I want to tell you that I wish it was me. That I wish I’d been enough.

But it’s too late. It’s always been too late.

I start the engine, but I don’t drive away right away. I just sit there, staring at the life that’s no longer mine, and I feel this hollow ache in my chest that I can’t ever seem to fill. I think about you, about the way you looked at me that night when you said you loved me but that it wasn’t enough. And maybe it never was.

As I pull away, I catch one last glimpse of you through the window, your hand resting on top of your oldest child's head while you spoke to your husband, and I feel like I’m leaving something behind all over again. Maybe one day, I’ll stop coming back here. Maybe one day, I’ll let go of this ghost that’s been haunting me.

But for now, all I can do is drive. Away from you. Away from the life I’ll never have. And I wonder, for the hundredth time, what might have been if I’d just been a better man.

[willowser]

ma’am i only found your blog yesterday but your ex hubby bakugo got me in a trance, and i hsjsksksksksk, but ill present you: ‘drunk ex husband bakugo’ i- i mean he would be so silly and calls you at 1am to tell you how much he loves you and the little one and how much he misses you, babbles away all the nonsense else, but the way he murmurs and mumbles silly things on the phone got you giggle at midnight (and sad at the time because holy hell you miss him too), then you have to talk him out of it to go home and sleep, he listens, he goes home, yeah, and 10 minutes later he shows up at your front door (still hella woozy) because he is just that stupidly drunk and he has always wanted to go home to you :((

ANON ??? OUCH ????? THIS MAKES ME SAD AKFJSODHAIA

i've always wanted to do drunk ex-whathaveyou bakugou that shows up at your door too late 🥺 but in this instance !! i feel like. you get a few calls in the middle of the night, but they're very short ?? like you wake up to your phone ringing and it's his number, so you're reaching for it, but it stops before you can answer. and you're thinking, "darn i must have slept through the first few rings," and as you're typing out a text to check in with him, he calls again for like two rings, and then it stops. and then he calls and it rings for one and then it stops.

and so now you're like — okay maybe he's butt-dialing me LOL but he tries again like 20 minutes later and you're so tired of the ring-tone that you answer it as fast as you can and just listen, waiting to see if you can hear his voice distantly, as if you're down in his back-pocket.

but he grumbles, "—the fuck? hello?"

and you ask him, "uh hey, have you been trying to call me?" but you're almost certain he doesn't hear you, because half-way through you are able to hear the loud background music and then the sound of shuffling, his grumpy lil "—the fuck off me, 'm—shut th'hell up—'m on the DAMN PHONE!"

clearly, there's a struggle, so you just kind of wait, worried you're about to hear your ex-husband get nerfed while on patrol maybe ?? but then the music drops away and is replaced by a barely-there scratchy wind, and he's breathless when he asks if you're still there.

"yeah, no, i'm still here. is...everything okay?"

he huffs, so heavy into the phone that the static almost hurts your ears. "whadda'you think?"

it's bitter enough that you blink in the darkness of your room, before glaring at the opposite wall. "excuse me?"

"fuck, 'm sorry, i—fuck." he inhales audibly, stuttering. "i'm sorry."

you frown, head turning; he sounds lazy, like he can't be assed to speak properly, and he's speaks impolitely on the regular — but it's never this bad. all his words sound curved, looped together, and he's shuffling too much on the other end, sniffing loud and mumbling to himself. almost like he's—

"are you...drunk?"

you're expecting an immediate no, even if evidence is proving otherwise, because he's not a drinker. occasionally, when he's out for dinner or at one of kirishima's backyard barbecues, but it's so infrequent that his tolerance is low, for someone of his size. it doesn't take much to have him a little sloshed, and he hates it, not only for the feeling the day after, but because his mouth tends to run. more than usual.

"it's that fuckin'—dunce head ass 'n his—stupid piano teeth, tape-face—"

kaminari and sero, you think. you think.

"'n i didn't want to fuckin' come to shit like this, ever. because they're so 'blah fuckin' blah, get over yourself', as if i'm—whatever. dumbasses." he pauses, and before you can finish piecing together what he's trying to say, he continues. "'n i'm not even like them, because they're fucking losers, and i don't—i don't even want that chick's number, okay? i don't fuckin' care, okay?"

your heart throbs dangerously, suddenly swollen and too tender, at the very thought of him and someone else, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut tight. "bakugou—"

"bakugou?" he cuts you off loudly, offended. "'r'you fuckin'—sorry, shit. bakugou? you're a goddamn bakugou—"

you have the throw the blankets off your lap so that you can hurry to your bedroom door, to shut it before hissing at him. "i'm not gonna sit here and get cussed out, katsuki. we're divorced."

"sorry! fuck, i'm—i mean—sorry, sorry. 'm not—it ain't at you, y'know? you know that, right?"

and you do. you do know that. it's just how he talks, he would tell you, and he would cut down on it for a little while before it inevitably came back and — it just hurts, at times. to be on the receiving end of his hottest flame.

"yeah," you tell him quietly, leaning against the door when he sighs. "yeah, i know."

"she—" he groans, deep and frustrated. "she fuckin'—god, sorry. she did that t'me all th'time, y'know? 'cut the fuckin' attitude, katsuki,' 'n then fuckin' SMACK!" you can hear the sharp sound of his slap, metallic, like he's against a lamp post or something. "but then she's comin' up t'my room, all like, 'y'know i love you' 'n—how 'm i suppos' t'know that stuff?"

he's never really spoken about his childhood; his parents, yes, through comments here and there about how they irritated him, but nothing serious. you've seen firsthand how tumultuous his relationship with his mother is, and she still smacks him around, but he's big now, much bigger than she is; you never considered what it was like for him, when he was younger.

even if he is drunk, even if he won't remember tomorrow — you still want to be there for him.

you realize he's waiting for an answer, with how long he's quiet, and you shrug to yourself before gently saying, "i don't know, katsuki. it sounds like it would have been very confusing."

"yeah, i mean—" he exhales slowly, though the end trails off into a growl, as if he's grown frustrated again. "i would never fuckin' hit you."

"i know that, katsuki, and i've never thought you would. and i would never hit you, either, y'know?"

"yeah," he repeats, and you can hear him swallowing, the sound so thick that you think he might choke. "i'd never hit you, or—or—hey, where is he? i wanna talk to 'im."

at the mention of your son, you peek down the hall to make sure his door isn't open, that he's not snooping around like you've caught him doing lately — but it's still mostly closed, and you don't hear any little feet against the hardwood.

you squint at your phone, blinded momentarily at the blue-light as you check the time. "it's the middle of the night, katsuki, he's asleep."

"did he have a good day?"

"yeah, he—"

"tell me about it. tell me th-the whole thing."

and — you do, as he listens and grunts and murmurs little things you don't catch. occasionally, he'll groan, really quiet like he's trying not to cry, and it's after the third time he asks to speak to him again that you finally decide to call him an uber.

and you put in his home address !!! but not thirty minutes later, you are sort of roused out of sleep because he's lightly knocking on your door, in the middle of the night, and you have to get up and go check so he doesn't wake your son up !!!!

and he's probably a MESS, all red-faced and SAD, rubbing at his eyes, almost tripping into your house because he was leaning against the door. it's not even worth arguing about getting him to his actual home because it's late and he's being a little loud, so you just give him some water and make him lay down on the couch and — he's out like a light right away LOL

but. you wake up a few hours later to him laying in your bed, on top of the blankets, his pants are on the floor but his shirt and jacket are still on LOL and he's not quite touching you, but if you jostle even a little bit, his face will press into your back 🥺 you don't know when he got up and came into your room, but he was sober enough to be quiet about it, and when you wake up in the morning, he's already re-dressed and sitting with your son at the kitchen table 🥺

WAAAAHHH i made this so sad. i'm so sorry akjfajfajaljfa he's such a BABY !!! god help me, bc if it really was me, i would take him back in a heartbeat LOL

[missmeinyourbones]

LOVIN’ YOU IS EASY

cw: slice of life, very soft & domestic, slightly suggestive, megumi gets a love boner LOL, aged up characters (as always!!!) 

It’s decently late, nearly midnight, when Megumi finally comes home. 

His day was on the longer side, one of his missions running late into the night—not to mention the heavy rain refusing to let up making everything feel slower and colder and worse. He’d made sure to send you a text that he’d be home late, reminding you not to wait up for him, that he’d come home to you all the same.

So he’s careful to be extra quiet when silently squeezing through the door and locking it behind him. Squeaky boots dragging on the hardwood floor, he carefully wiggles them off of his feet before flicking on the tiny lamp beside him. 

In the barely illuminated apartment, he can now see your curled-up blob of a frame laying comfortably on the couch, softly rubbing your squinting your eyes at the sudden light. 

He sighs, one equally filled with disappointment and relief at the comforting sight.

“What are you doing out here?” he gently hisses.

The umbrella he sets down is damp with glittered raindrops. His actions are less cautious now that he knows you’re close but awake. 

He watches you slightly sit up against the arm of the couch. “Waitin’ for you,” you groggily state the obvious.

Megumi’s eyebrows slightly crease with disapproval, “I told you not to.”

“Yeah, and you should know by now that I don’t listen to you.”

He smiles at that—he shouldn’t, but he does. 

That's just the way things are between the two of you. Always turning a blind eye to your own best interests in replace of looking out for one another. He thinks that's what love is, a sacrifice of both the silly and the serious. 

He sheds himself of his jacket, revealing the beige wool sweater swallowing his torso. You’d picked it out for him a few months ago in preparation for the colder months ahead. You remember him muttering something about not liking sweaters because they're itchy, so you made sure to find one as soft as his pale skin. 

As he joins you on the couch, the wool feels soft and warm against your exposed arms. Settling onto his lap, he briefly mumbles something about changing out of his damp pants, but you dismiss the request with a muffled hum into his torso. 

His fingers idly dance along your spine, “If you take any more naps on this thing, you’re gonna mess up your back.” 

His words make you whine and further nuzzle into his chest. 

“S’not that bad,” you insist, referring to the frumpy olive couch beneath you. 

Megumi’s always hated it for some reason, claiming it’s not comfortable and too stiff, especially when your bed is right there. But truthfully, you don't mind it. Maybe because you get to associate it with moments like this—groggily waiting for your lover to come home and the relief of finally being coddled by his warmth. 

“And if I do,” you tilt your head to place a soft kiss to his jaw, “you’ll just have to take care of me.”

Megumi hums in faux annoyance but closes his eyes at the feeling of your lips. “Yeah yeah, lucky me.”

The rain outside refuses to slow and sounds like little fingertips against the glass of the windows. You vaguely remember falling asleep to the consistent sound of it, but it sounds a whole lot more comforting now that you know Megumi isn't outside in it. 

“How was your day?”

Megumi sighs into the couch at your question, “It was okay, thanks for asking.” He lets his fingers delicately weave themselves through your hair and over your scalp, “Busy.”

You hum back to him, vibrating his whole chest and letting him know you're listening. He returns the gesture, “How was yours?”

“Okay,” you sigh, “kinda dreary. I missed you.” Your voice is smooth and feels like honey in his bones. 

A kiss is placed on the crown of your head, “Missed you too, babe.”

“I thought about you a lot.”

“Fuck—” Megumi’s body instinctually tenses at your sweetly intimate words, before he’s shifting you around on his lap and readjusting his twitchy legs. “Don’t say that.”

Removing your face from his chest, you tilt your head up to look at him. He’s flushed pink, eyes nearly glimmering with love at the innocent confession from your lips. 

You trace a soft finger against his inner thigh, “Why? You gonna get hard?”

Your knuckles just barely brush against the shaft of his covered cock as you feel it already slightly stiff beneath you. Megumi throws his head back in a sarcastic groan before gently swatting your hand away. 

“You know I will,” he admits, far too tired to be shy at this point.

You pull your hand away from his half-awake length, but allow it to linger flat on his thigh. 

Your head returns to his chest with a genuine laugh, “You have so many non-sexual turn-ons.”

“What can I say,” Megumi dryly snorts, “you turn me on emotionally.”

You smile into his arm, leaving a tiny bite that has him slightly jumping. 

“That’s a funny way of saying you love me,” you tease. 

Megumi’s pointer finger delicately hooks below your chin, tilting it closer to him so he can get a good look at you.

His nose brushes against your cheek before it finds your own, nuzzling against it once, twice, three times as he hovers over your lips.

His mouth is just above yours as he softly oozes with adoration, “I do love you.”

Though not yet kissing, he whispers the confession through your lips, wanting you to taste it. Breathe it in, swallow it down and digest it in your lungs. He wants you to feel it in every crevice of your body, from the prints of your fingers all the way down to the tips of your toes. He needs you to know, needs you to overwhelmingly drown in his love for you, even in subtle moments like this.

“I know,” you easily return through his lips, “I love you too.”

[goosefruit]

new year's kiss

vanessa shelly x reader tw: situationship, vanessa has a fear of intimacy :(( (happy ending though!!) a/n: happy new year!!! hope vanessa gives yall a kiss at midnight <33

“Hey Y/N, Over here!”  The familiar voice shouted at you over the noise of conversations and wine glasses clinking. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, having been afraid that you would have to navigate this mess of a party alone. The voice came from a nearby couch, where Vanessa lounged with a glass of champagne in hand. You noticed that she was still in her police uniform, as opposed to the sparkly dresses most of the other girls wore. 

“Did you just get here? Sorry I didn’t see you earlier, too many people at the front door.” Her face lit up as you approached her. She made room for you to sit, which you graciously accepted. 

“Yeah, just a couple minutes ago. My bad for being late, the traffic was wild…you know, with today being New Year’s Eve and all.” 

To be honest, the only reason you were here instead of basking in the comfortable silence of your own apartment was because of the very pretty blonde cop seated before you. This was her friend’s New Year celebration, but she had invited you as a plus one, despite you not knowing a single other person. 

“You look gorgeous,” there was a twinkle in her green eyes. “That dress is absolutely perfect on you.”

Your cheeks grew hot at her compliment, self-consciously adjusting the straps of your tight black dress. “And you look amazing as always. But I have to ask, why the uniform?” 

“Oh, I didn’t have time to drive home so I just came straight from work. Almost startled a few people ‘cause they thought I was here for a noise complaint!” 

Somehow, everything Vanessa said made you giggle. There was something so charming about the way she carried herself, and her soothing voice was honey to your ears. 

Not to mention, she looked hot as hell in that uniform. 

Your conversation turned to the topic of work, then New Year’s resolutions, and then whatever random subject you could think of to keep her talking. 

It was nearing midnight when she asked: “So, what’s your biggest wish for this new year?”

Your eyebrows knitted together at having to choose just one.

“I mean, besides ‘stop pulling unnecessary all-nighters’ and ‘remembering to floss every day’.” She chuckled as she recalled the long list of resolutions you had recited to her earlier. “Something…life-changing. Something out of your control, even.” 

Looking into her dazzling eyes, the answer came to you simply and plainly. 

“I want to fall in love.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve already been falling in love with this irresistible woman. How could you not? You were drawn to her from the moment you met. 

It was evident that Vanessa adored you too, taking you out for dates and texting you ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ every day without fail. 

Which was why it frustrated you so much that you couldn’t call her your girlfriend. 

Every time you tried to bring up making things official, she would tell you that she needed time to think things through. That she wasn’t ready, that she needed to clean up family matters, or that she hadn’t come out yet.

You were willing to wait for her, but you didn’t know how much patience you had left. 

“Y/N…” Vanessa seemed to get the hint. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pressure yo-”

“Let’s talk about this outside, how ‘bout that? It’s too loud in here and I need a breath of fresh air.” 

She dragged you out to the driveway, where her police car was parked amongst a sea of the other partygoers’ vehicles. You climbed into the passenger seat beside her, head finally a little clearer away from the noise. 

“You have every right to be angry at me, and I completely understand if you want to see someone else instead.” Vanessa started before you could say anything. “I haven’t been fair to you. I want you to be happy, I want your wish to come true, but I know I’m getting in the way.” 

“Vanessa, I’m happiest when I’m with you. It sounds cheesy as fuck but there’s no better way to put it.” 

“But I know you want something more serious than what we’ve got.” She completed your thought. Vanessa opened her mouth to continue, but nothing came out. 

An awkwardness came over the two of you before you broke the silence.

“I don’t know the real reason as to why you can’t commit, and I won’t pretend to know. But Vanessa,” you paused and made sure that she was looking back at you. “You deserve to fall in love too. You don’t have to wait till everything’s perfect, because then you’ll be waiting forever.”

“Bu-”

“I know your family is imperfect—-and you can tell me more about it when you’re ready—-and I know you like to close yourself off to protect the people around you from whatever it is that terrifies you so much. But my dear, we can work through that together! That’s what a partner is for, and I want to be the one that you can turn to.”

Vanessa fidgeted with the sleeve of her uniform, trying to hide her watery eyes from your searching gaze. No one had ever spoken to her with such tenderness. 

“So can you be the one that I fall in love with next year?” You could practically hear your heart pound as you awaited her response.

She finally allowed her eyes to meet yours in the dim light of her car. There was something there, other than the shadow of fear that appeared whenever you got too close. Her eyes were seeking permission, glancing at your lips intently. 

You leaned in closer to her.

Suddenly, that shadow of fear in her eyes seemed to vanish, now replaced by a fiery sort of determination. 

You reached out and grabbed her tie, pulling her in and crashing your lips together. 

Outside, you could hear fireworks explode in the sky and people cheering as the last second of the year ticked by. 

You felt Vanessa smile against your lips, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.