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getitoutofmymindwrites · 6 months

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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

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llamagoddessofficial · 10 months

Note

Hey got more aggre guy questions with you hehehe :D

How would you know if any of them had a crush on you?

Hehe... a classic cute question.

Sans: The absolute most difficult to tell. He just acts like a close pal. Honestly, if you're not Papyrus, it's near impossible to know how Sans is genuinely feeling. This guy is a master at disguise. The signs are ridiculously covert- how many words he uses in his texts, which eye he most frequently winks at you with, the kinds of jokes he uses, which side of you he sits on. He gets slightly jealous of people you like, and expresses that with veeeery subtle coldness toward them. To Papyrus Sans is outrageously flirting, and to you he just said 'heh, i'm gonna steal that joke'.

The most reliable sign that he likes you, is he would rather be with you than without you. He messages you when he's bored, when he's got a day off he asks if you want to come over and hang out together. He's casually affectionate with you; with everyone else he's very physically guarded, not really allowing any prolonged contact, but he'll sit close enough for your knees to touch and lean on your shoulder. When he's sleepy, he'll just put his head in your lap.

If at any point you're actually starting to suspect that Sans has a crush on you (ie you catch him lightly blushing or looking at your hand like he wants to hold it) that means he's already fully in love with you. If it's obvious enough for you to tell, he's planning to spend the rest of his life with you.

Red: Red is also pretty difficult to tell. Not as hard as Sans, though. He's highly flirtatious in general, but even more so with people he's physically interested in. Sometimes, it can be hard to know if he's just a super flirty guy in general, or if he genuinely really likes you.

When he's in love he switches between totally forgetting to flirt (he's thinking about more than just sleeping together) and acting more like himself, then panicking that you won't like his real self and becoming EXTRA flirtatious and swaggery. He instinctively wants you to see the real him, and like him... but he's also terrified of you not liking the real him, so he clams up and tries to play the part of the big sexy badboy that everyone else seems to like so much more. The longer he likes you the more he eases. If at any point you find out he needs glasses, or that he quit smoking out of fear that it'd impact your lungs, that's a sure sign he's fallen for you.

Another reliable tell is jealousy. Red doesn't get jealous a lot, because usually he doesn't really care all that deeply about his flings. If he shows jealousy about who you're with, it's a big flag that his feelings run a lot deeper than he wants to admit.

Skull: Skull isn't difficult at all. It will be loud & clear that he likes you. Nonstop staring, intense blushing at the slightest interaction, he drops/breaks things a lot because he's distracted just looking at you. His brain -> mouth filter vanishes, he'll be completely silent except to blurt out things like "you're so pretty" and "i like your smell". Before he drums up the courage to start talking to you properly he might even come across as a bit creepy and overwhelming, given his size and strength, the intensity of his feelings, and his love language being staring.

Papyrus usually comes very in handy. He makes Skull seem less intimidating by providing the cute real reasons for Skull's bizarre behaviour around you. He can be a great translation service for his brother- when Skull mumbles something totally unintelligible to you because you make his brain stop working, Papyrus can step in. He's also great at getting that perfect balance between encouraging his brother, and stopping him from crossing any lines; he'll help Skull approach you at a house party without teleporting somewhere completely random out of nervousness, but he'll also dispense helpful advice such as "PERHAPS YOU SHOULD INTRODUCE YOURSELF BEFORE YOU TELL HER YOU WANT TO HAVE KIDS WITH HER."

#llamagines #when sans has feelings for you he always finds some way to nap around you #you sit down for 20 seconds and he teleports onto the couch beside you #its like when you realise your cat has somehow made its way onto your lap without you noticing #except you realise hes been snoozing with his legs over yours for like half an hour

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cod-dump · 11 months

Text

DMs (mature, discussions of sex)

———

*relaxing at a bar*

Graves: I'm sure we all have had some… interesting messages from our soldiers at one point or another

Nik: I’ve definitely had INTERESTING ones

Graves: Can’t be more interesting than the time I was put in a group chat with FIVE of my Shadows who wanted a gangbang

Price, quietly: Alright, that didn’t take long

Nik: I have gotten several messages from some of my men BEGGING to suck me off

Price, giving in: Fuck it- A soldier once sent me screenshots of a groupchat that was created purely to talk about the shit my people would do to me. And they sent the most explicit messages

Nik: *laughs* I think I was a part of that!

Graves: *snorts into his drink*

Farah, sitting down with a drink: I had a couple soldiers asking if they could watch Alex fuck me

Graves: *unintelligible noises*

Farah: Or if they could fuck him while I watch

Nik: *bent over the table laughing*

Laswell, coming up to where they’re sitting: I have a whole folder on my phone with nothing but screenshots of when people sent me a message calling me ‘mommy’

Graves, wheezing: I’ve got so many messages about ‘wanting to tame a bronc’

Laswell: *laughs*

Price, unable to take a drink because of how hard he’s laughing: Oh my god- They keep asking if I wear the hat during sex or not!

Farah: Well do you?

Nik, slamming his drink down: he does!

*everyone loses their shit*

#smosh inspired #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #phillip graves #john price #cod nikolai #kate laswell #farah karim #incorrect quotes #drabble #discussions involving sex #pricenik #faralex

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tulliok · 4 days

Note

we stopped watching around the later seasons and barely remember what happened in them so we're encouraging you to talk about what you dislike or want to criticize

Got asked, so here’s my abridged season 8-9 thoughts.

As someone who grew up watching the show from the beginning, I have a lot of gripes with how “friendship” is defined as a power-up or a material resource. However, it really wasn’t that big of a deal because I understand that MLP is a show targeted towards young girls that enjoy playing with toys, and the show was able to still portray realistic and educational lessons.

The introduction of a friendship school in season 8 was a poor decision for so many reasons. Narratively, it locks our main characters into a single location, and we go from having a cast with unique occupations and storylines… to one where all six share the same responsibilities as an instructor and tackle the same lessons. Especially when some of them don’t seem like the type to enjoy teaching at all.

But the biggest issue I have is that the school validates the show’s idea that friendship is a unique resource that has to be taught, and that comes with a load of problematic implications. To get to the worst one right away, the school came packaged with a storyline about xenophobia and Equestria’s prejudice against their foreign neighbors. The coding of non-pony species in the show has always had weird racial implications (yaks and dragons being depicted as loud, unintelligent barbarians, the buffalo and Zecora representing members of real marginalized groups), but it is made even worse in this season by depicting them as people that are uneducated and need to be taught basic social skills and lessons in a foreign land. The Friendship School is literally a project designed by Twilight to spread Equestria’s idea of friendship to other countries! On top of that, they introduce what is essentially a conservative, white supremacist pony as a villain, and to beat him Twilight needs to prove that the exchange students are worthy of being taught. I really don’t think I need to explain why this is extremely weird and shouldn’t even be in the show in the first place.

I love the show because of episodes like Amending Fences, Leap of Faith, and No Second Prances—episodes that teach children that relationships aren’t big battles of morality and power but are complicated experiences that everyone has a unique response to. These experiences cannot be taught in a school with sewing lessons and apple picking and taking exams. They are also not unique to any particular community or race—that is a fact of life that most children should immediately understand. It’s extremely disheartening watching the show regress to the point where Rarity is telling a young girl that her cultural costume isn’t pretty enough and she’s dolling her up in wigs to cover her braids and giving her etiquette lessons to “fit right in." I don’t care that the moral was that she was wrong; what’s wrong is that the show even bothered making episodes like this at all.

Season 9 concludes with a happy ending where all is well, but it isn't because the young child villain, the one character that needed friendship lessons and the grace to grow up, was turned into a garden accessory without a second thought. All while surrounded by the redeemed villains that the series arbitrarily decided were more worthy of our sympathy.

I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with my opinions and I want to be as fair as possible about what made me so uncomfortable with the show’s conclusion. I am a longtime fan, but I also care a lot about children’s media being responsible with their messaging, especially when they tackle subjects that require a great level of care, such as race and relationships. MLP (whether older fans like it or not) is ultimately a show about teaching children valuable social skills and providing moral lessons with every adventure.

I doubt this mixed messaging was intentional on the writer’s part. Rather, the last seasons were recklessly handled. To a viewer’s eyes, there isn’t a difference between these two.

#ask #rant #mlp fim #I hope this isn't too long or confusing I don't have a lot of confidence with getting my point across in writing #I love this show and these characters and its why I am so critical of when things really started going wrong #Im very willing to discuss more about this but again it's only if anyone wants to! Let me know how you felt about the finale if you like.

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cerisahh · 8 months

Text

WHAT'S YOUR HANDLE!

SYNOPSIS ꒱ social media/internet headcanons for the saiki k characters.

CHARACTERS INCLUDED ꒱ saiki, kaidou, aren, nendou, toritsuka, hairo, teruhashi, aiura, yumehara, mera, rifuta

NOTE ꒱ i love the saiki k characters so much they’re like a fond memory.

KUSUO SAIKI

• surprisingly, saiki has social media.

• private account, of course. 0 posts, 0 followers, 0 following, (12 follow requests which he will never accept).

• claims it helps him be percieved as 'average' (he's keeping tabs on his friends those nuisances that follow him around).

• enjoys baking videos! when he finds a recipe he likes, him and his mother will make it together.

• he's one of those people who use perfect punctuation and grammar whilst typing. never turned off auto-capitalisation.

• dry texter by choice, not by chance. he's less dry when he's speaking online to someone he actually likes, but not by much (by less dry, you get a sentence instead of a one-word answer).

• leaves everyone on delivered most of the time.

• tried changing his number multiple times, but someone always manages to get hold of it so he just gave up.

SHUN KAIDOU

• no one wants to say it so i will. he uses wattpad.

• tried to use ao3/fanfiction.net but found it too difficult so he stuck to his roots.

• he would definetly write paragraphs upon paragraphs of the lore of the-jet-black-wings and dark reunion, as well as the origins of the power sealed within his right arm (black beat) and why it is DETRIMENTAL that this power is never unleashed or stolen by evil.

• everyone in the comments think that it's just a cool original story idea.

• absolutely inserts his friends as original characters in his lore. i might make a whole seperate post about this.

• he also uses reddit. where else is he going to get story ideas?

• has these apps pin locked and hidden in his phone, on the off-chance his mother decides to look through it.

• ABSOLUTELY plays roblox, his username is something cringe he made when he was ten (like the rest of us), refuses to change it. account is -13 for some reason.

• he has spent a lot of money on roblox. a troubling amount.

• types in lowercase, except when he's talking to his mother, then it's all punctuation and manners.

AREN KUBOYASU

• still purchases burner phones even though his gangster days are over. old habits die hard.

• uses an ipad more often than not.

• plays roblox with kaidou, is a bacon hair. his messages constantly get filtered because he still doesn't realise you can't swear on roblox. warned almost everyday - on the verge of being banned.

• watches motorcycle tiktoks, it's literally all his fyp is. the comments he leaves are usually just questions relating to the specs of the bikes.

• is the member of the group that pays for netflix and disney+ and lets everyone leech off of him.

• reformed aren posts pictures of his friends and himself, it's actually a really normal page - which is his goal.

• pre-reformed aren would just post videos of him flexing, and all of his fights. there's a lot of fights.

• also: mullet pics.

• is on reddit SOLELY for the purpose of biker groups. could probably write a thesis on an single engine part. probably has. don't ask him to show you.

RIKI NENDOU

• this guy BARELY knows how to operate a phone, let alone the internet.

• only really uses his phone to google stuff and talk to his buddies.

• nendou... is so bad at spelling... like... SO bad.

• half the time nobody can decipher his messages it's just that horrendous.

• uses emojis, but doesn't open the emoji tab?? so he'll type the emoji he wants and then leave the word prompt in the message?? (ex: 'ramen 🍜 after school 🏫 ?')

• made a seperate account for koriki no.2 but just uses it as his own.

• his first time posting a picture of himself one of those ⓘ - generated by ai messages was under it. THEY THINK HE’S TOO UGLY TO BE REAAALL.

• unintelligible comments left on everything he sees.

• also likes everything he sees. his fyp/explore pages are filled with nonsense. nothing makes sense.

• there are a lot of cute animal videos though - this is a recurring theme.

REITA TORITSUKA

• sigh.

• falls for those ads that are like: 'horny women in the area ready to fuck'.

• REALLY?? WHERE?

• has a lot of malware downloaded without his knowledge.

• a reddit troll, there's no doubt about it. he LIVES to piss people off on that site. think colin robinson in that one episode (this is a niche reference).

• i regret to inform everyone, but before omegle shut down... he was a regular.

• probably has several failed business ideas. also has probably invested in cryptocurrency, bragged about his newfound riches, lost his newfound riches due to the market collapsing, and the cycle continues.

• says outrageous things on twitter. outrageous. one might even go as far as to say heinous.

• probably has hate pages made about him.

KINESHI HAIRO

• without a doubt has a gym bro tiktok account, might be a disciple of joey swoll.

• reposts those 'before and after' gym pictures with messages of congratulations to the person - he's so sweet. >_<

• probably has a couple thousand followers, a lot of people from his local gym follow him.

• contrary to popular belief, he doesn't type with caps on all the time. keeps auto capitalisation on and uses a lot of exclamation marks though.

• is the person who created the class groupchat. and the group chat of the ENTIRE school year. he literally added EVERYONE to it.

• follows everyone? like... people don't even know how he knows everyone but he does?? (he's just really friendly).

• there's multiple videos that he's tagged in of him doing kind things for people, hairo is such a sweetheart guys.

• uses his platform to give fitness advice to people. there's a lot of motivational quotes plastered on his accounts.

KOKOMI TERUHASHI

• of course teruhashi has social media, how else will she broadcast her beauty?

• she has SO many message requests, dedicates hours a day to respond to them to maintain her 'perfect pretty girl' status.

• posts once every week at a scheduled time, get's thousands of likes without fail.

• has a finsta for her close friends.

• doesn't have tiktok but somewhow still has fan accounts on there. and on every other site.

• is really into conspiracy theories, although she won't publicise this or her stance on anything either. she must remain neutral.

• her @'s and tags are mostly full of her fans taking pictures with/of her. she appreciates it, of course! but it's still strange...

• has her brother blocked (thank god).

• has numerous ootd highlights, the people eat it up everytime.

MIKOTO AIURA

• chronic pinterest addict

• unironically uses yubo (she needs help)

• her instagram highlights are so fun to go through, it's messy but it's a hot mess

• posts A LOT, like multiple times a day

• consumes a lot of yoga/meditation media.

• a lot of her media intake is different subcultures of gyaru (obviously), but she's really into haute couture.

• she actually streams on twitch sometimes, mostly to do online readings for people - she also does makeup tutorials and posts fashion advice!

• has also been banned by twitch several times for bypassing terms of service. (it's not her fault that the admins are sensitive).

• her most used app is probably spotify. has ayesha erotica in most of her playlists.

• she has a seperate account for her business, she posts newly decorated crystal balls each week and does free weekly readings in order to promote herself.

CHIYO YUMEHARA

• runs a semi-popular baking yt, (which saiki follows, to the knowledge of no one)

• used to post gacha life love story videos.

• might be the only person who knows about kaidous secret wattpad account (bar saiki obviously), reads everything he writes and inserts herself into his scenarios.

• types all cutesy and uses emoticons like there is no tomorrow

• 'hai hai everyone!! (^_^)' <- for example.

• buys sketchy stuff off aliexpress that promise the most ludicrous results (ex: she buys fat burning/slimming creams and expects them to give her a perfect beach body, gets confused when it gives her a rash and then buys more).

• has an etsy shop and makes custom jewellery (makes it free for her friends and leaves it in their desks with a custom note, it's very wholesome).

• her notes app is under LOCK AND KEY. that shit is more secure than the nuclear codes.

CHISATO MERA

• doesn't have a phone. can't even afford gas and electric, let alone internet. is poor.

• BUT IF SHE WASN'T!!

• would join giveaways even if they're obviously fake. she's desperate.

• miraculously end up WINNING ONE?? she gets flown out to be featured in one of those obnoxious youtubers videos and comes back with a fat paycheck and ridiculously expensive electronics (which she eventually sells, probably to pay the rent).

• is a reoccurring guest on yumehara's yt channel, as a taste-tester, obviously.

• was also meant to critique the food but she rates everything a 10/10 so was not very useful.

• her most used app? let's all be honest with ourselves, it's a food delivery one.

• has the most games downloaded out of everyone, mostly to entertain her siblings when they're bored.

IMU RIFUTA

• has a really cute and aesthetic tumblr - yet somewhow doesn't know what fanfiction is?

• dear god this girl uses everskies. she ABSOLUTELY uses everskies. has been banned several times.

• has so many throwaway accounts. like it breaches fifty, it's getting to be a problem.

• definitely argues with people on public forums, you can't convince me that this girl doesn't have festering anger building up inside her, arguing online is like a rage room for her.

• her phone layout is one of those aesthetic pink ones, she spent hours on it. hours.

• this girl is a MASTER stalker. has every social media under the sun, even the ones nobody has heard about in years.

• is unnervingly good at editing photos and videos.

• her alts are constantly getting suspended for harassment. has anonymously harassed saiki multiple times (he knows its her).

• everything she posts is really over-the-top with cutesy filters, like, blindingly so.

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starlost-mochi-x · 1 month

Text

the fast lane : part 1 (bangchan x reader x felix)

Summary: Welcome to the world of underground street racing. Chan is known for his flashy cars and confident attitude. You're new to the racing scene, eager but inexperienced. Felix is known for his sneaky tactics and charming demeanour. What happens when all three of your worlds collide?

Warnings: not much tbh, skz racer!au, illegal street racing, chan is a cocky little shit, wc 2.5k

series masterlist

part 1 : the deal

The tunnel looked pretty unassuming; a round, gaping entrance that was once a pathway for trains to cross through. A hardly-used staircase leading down into a dirty subway and a copse of half dead trees sandwiched the tunnel of either side. Y/n dragged a finger across the cement wall, a trail of dirt and grime collecting on her fingertip. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she stepped back and surveyed the deserted entrance with a disdainful, skeptical eye.

The mouth of the tunnel was haphazardly littered with graffiti tags, long, sweeping, unintelligible strokes in varying shades of neon blue and green. Y/n's eyes swept across the letters and symbols, following the shapes and curves. Perhaps it was a message, or a warning. Stepping back and then peering into the darkness past the tunnel, Y/n sighed.

it felt more like a warning.

She hopped up and down on the spot and rubbed her arms. The night was cold and the air was frigid; Y/n's breath puffed out in front of her in a frozen mist, like dragon steam. She had no idea why she had decided to come here, and that too in the dead of night. Despite her passion for racing and her love of cars, she'd never raced in any official competitions, simply settling for a few high-speed laps round the city streets at night. But now, here she stood, at the entrance to an underground racing circuit, about to race alongside some of the city's most infamous racers.

Groaning inwardly and pulling out her phone, Y/n swiped to her socials and pulled up the details of the racing grounds. Checking the list of racers and seeing her name near the bottom, she huffed. There was no way she could back out now.

Gathering all her courage, Y/n stepped forward, her black boots meeting the dusty, cracked cement. The ground was scattered with cigarette butts and various other discarded items. She bit her lip and continued into the dark.

The neon, flickering electricity of the city faded away, leaving Y/n to walk through the seemingly endless darkness. Trailing one hand along the wall as she walked, Y/n felt her way to the other end of the tunnel. The details of the race had said to enter the tunnel without using flashlights, torches, or other sources of light. Y/n wondered why, and her jaw clenched as she realised it was probably to keep the police off the tracks of the races. She hadn't noticed any security cameras around the area before she'd gone in; but she couldn't shake the feeling that what she was doing was not really something she wanted to be legally confronted about.

A metallic clattering noise shook her out of her worries. Looking down and realising it was useless trying to see in the dark, Y/n bent down cautiously, hand scrabbling around on the cement, before making contact with a metal energy drink can. Chiding herself for her timidness, she walked on, slow and watchful, eyes straining.

The dark continued seemingly forever; each step she took brought a small haze of light to the end of the tunnel, then faded away. Her eyes ached with the strain of trying to see in pitch black. A small seed of panic took a firm grip on her insides, common sense returning from its brief vacation.

This is it, she thought. I'm going to be lost in the void forever.

Y/n closed her eyes, willing herself to think straight. It didn't matter whether her eyes were open or not; the dark was the same. Choking, suffocating, endless. Her fingertips on her right hand hurt from the roughness of the cement, bumps and cracks sending shockwaves of tittering trepidation through her. Her other hand was clenched tightly into a fist.

The wall beneath Y/n's fingertips suddenly disappeared, the cold air enveloping her slender hand once again. The stuffiness of the tunnel had disappeared, and Y/n tentatively opened her eyes, blinking to adjust them to the light. A surge of cold, crisp air filled her lungs with a low whoosh.

Noise.

Colour.

Light.

Y/n's eyes widened. She was standing at the entrance to a colossal circular arena. Rows of metal-backed bleachers rose in towering, circular rings around the main ground area. A large, winding race track, lined by colour-changing lights wound through the low stadium, disappearing somewhere near the back entrance; a tunnel. Turning back suddenly, Y/n stared through the darkness of the tunnel she'd juts come through. Two streets back, she would never had known any of this was here. Judging by how packed the place was, Y/n would have estimated half the city knew this racing circuit existed. It wasn't underground, per se, but it was a spectacle nonetheless. She'd never seen anything like it.

Several cars flew round the circuit, sending a whoosh of cool, petrol-smelling air into Y/n's face. She began to venture forward, and caught a glimpse of a sleek, red car speeding effortlessly around the racetrack; drifting perfectly around the turns and sending the high-pitched sound of zooming and screeching into the air. Six massive floodlights sent glaring white light flashing and reflecting off he vibrant, decorated surface of the cars and bleacher railings.

Surveying the arena with a look of stupid, dazed, disbelief, Y/n noticed a row of shiny, funky cars on a raised platform lining the right side of the amphitheatre. A throng of people were pushing against the guard rail, cheering loudly. Craning her neck to get a better look, Y/n began pushing her way through the crowd, making her way slowly but surely to the platform. The prominent beats of Japanese hip-hop music, the squeal of tires on asphalt, and the constant, excited chatter of the crowd surrounded Y/n like a fog. The excitement and passion in the air was contagious, though it was tinted with the lingering fumes of danger, risk-taking, spray-paint, and exhaust smoke.

It wasn't just the cars that were colorful; the crowd themselves sported an array of different outfits and appearances. Y/n passed by a man with a bright pink and yellow hairdo, silky waves falling into his face as two girls in neon green clung to his arm. Another had an orange LED light mask on, flashing smiley faces and heart eyes as he sold various items of racing paraphernalia to the tightly packed crowd.

But it wasn't hard to distinguish the racers themselves; they were dressed in sleek leather suits of varying colours, sponsors and supporter logos printed across their breast pockets and backs. Many of them carried helmets under the arms, and Y/n spotted a particular racer, who upon stepping out of a bright purple car, tossed his helmet and jacket to a teenage boy dressed in red. The boy fumbled to catch the items and hurriedly followed after the racer, a bit like a puppy following its owner.

It made sense to her that some of the racecar drivers had their own personal crews. Y/n knew that it was incredibly expensive to hire people for services like engineering, having spent almost half her savings on a three-person maintenance crew for the car she was to race tonight. Custom cars and suits must have been expensive enough as it was without the addition of pit crews and maintenance engineers. The people themselves were expensive, but not in a snobby, regal way. These people had the grime of the streets under their nails and hard work etched into the creases of their eyes. Y/n felt a strange sense of admiration and inspiration settle in her chest.

Finally making her way to the guard rail before the raised platform, Y/n looked past the racers and their cars, ignoring the cheering. She had eyes like a hawk's, and they landed nimbly on a roll-up garage door, which most likely led to the backstage area for the cars, and the private rooms for the racers. Thinking back to the instructions on her phone, Y/n began to move through the crowd to the door. That was where she would find her car to race tonight.

Her crew manager had sent her a photo of it; it was battered and a little rusty, but Y/n had faith in her abilities. She was going to race, and win. And if she wasn't going to win, she was going to place third at the very least. This is what you wanted, she reminded herself determinedly. Don't let anything get in your way. You're going to become a racer, one of the best street racers in this city, and-

Y/n smacked headlong into a wall of something tall and warm. Letting out an unceremonious oof, she stepped back, rubbing her forehead. Her boot caught on a stray crack in the asphalt and she tumbled backwards, landing with a thud on her ass. A low, amused chuckle came from above her.

"Should watch where you're going, sweetheart."

Squinting upwards, and huffing (half in embarrassment, half in pain- her ass really hurt...) Y/n blinked up at the obstruction that she'd run into.

A really hot obstruction.

An obstruction dressed in a racing suit of black and red leather, and with dark hair swept back over his forehead. Several strands hung down, striping his forehead, slick with sweat. He held a large, veiny hand out to her. Y/n noticed a thick, silver chain encircling his wrist.

Suddenly realising that she looked like an idiot, and was probably staring, she reached for the man's hand. It was surprisingly warm, and he was surprisingly strong; he hoisted her onto his feet without much effort. Dusting herself off and trying not to wince at the pain in her tailbone, Y/n looked up at him.

He was a little taller than she was, with sharp, angular features dripping with charming appeal. Dark eyeshadow dusted the edges of his eyes, and a neat slit ran through his left eyebrow. His hair was black as night, sheened in blue and white shades with the glinting cars and the floodlights above. His plump, pink lips curved into a smirk as he let go of her hand. Y/n hadn't even realised he'd been holding it. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"This isn't a place for little girls."

His voice was deep, rich and accented; Australian, maybe? She couldn't tell. Frowning up at him, she fired back.

"I'm not a little girl. I'm a racer."

The man leaned the wall, heavy boots tapping against the asphalt. He grinned wolfishly. "No?"

Y/n pursed her lips. "I came here to race. I'm one of the rookies listed for tonight," her voice faded off slightly at the end, a little unsure. Should she really be telling this super hot guy who she was and what she was doing?

But he only smirked again, exhaling a chuckle through his nose.

"Do you know who I am, sweetheart?"

Y/n bit her lip. She didn't.

"No," she said truthfully. Realigning her moral compass, she straightened her back and glared at him. "And don't call me that."

He sighed and stepped forwards, hands clasped behind his back. He began to advance towards her; Y/n stumbled back. Her foot met a step of some sort and she kept retreating anyway, not wanting to take her eyes off him. His gaze sent a chill of sudden fear through her. He was looking at her as if she were a particularly helpless animal he was about to pounce on.

Y/n gulped. A rush of fear, adrenaline... and something else.

The sudden feeling of cool metal meeting her lower back made Y/n stop in her tracks. Glancing sideways, she realised she'd been backed up against the man's car; though she was afraid, she couldn't help but notice how sleek and beautiful the car was, a shiny black body with wings, and red stripes lining the sides.

Attempting to move sideways, Y/n ran her hand along the low window frame, feeling her way around. The man noticed and placed his forearms on the car either side of her, caging her in. His fingers curled around her wrists, squeezing lightly. He leaned in, smelling of something woodsy and spicy. The boy-smell of gunmetal, leather, and smoke filled her nostrils, an intoxicating yet subtle wave of fumes. She fought the urge to inhale deeply, instead looking the man right in the eyes. Which was difficult.

"Leave me alone," she stuttered, cursing herself inwardly.

He chuckled again, tilting his head. "I've never seen you here before. One of the rookies, huh? They don't tend to fare well in the racing scene. Most quit after the first race. But maybe you're different, sweetheart."

Y/n glared at him, suddenly feeling brazen. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Do you usually pin girls to your car without introducing yourself, or is this a one-time thing? Because I'd very much like you to let go of me."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. A cocky smirk lifted one corner of his mouth.

"I'm Bang Christopher Chan. One of the best racers in the underground circuits, and the best in this city. I know this place like the back of my hand, but I didn't know a sassy princess would be the one standing in my way tonight," he grinned, almost devilishly. "and your name is..?"

"Y/n," she replied, not sure what else to say. She ignored the compliment, feigning an unimpressed expression.

Chan chuckled, a deep, breathy sound. "Well, Y/n, let's see how you race tonight. Shall we make a deal?"

Y/n tilted her head, raising her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Chan's eyes darken competitively. "Let's see if you're made of the real stuff. You beat me in the next race, and I'll get you a car. Whichever model you want."

Y/n's jaw dropped slightly. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"

Chan lifted a calloused fingertip and ran it along the side of her jaw unexpectedly, seemingly admiring her features. "No catch. I'd like to see what you're made of. Unless you're scared?"

Y/n scowled before contemplating the offer. If she wanted this, she needed a proper car. And she didn't have the money to buy one yet. Taking Chan's offer, winning the race, and getting a car of her choice would be a massive help. But she still felt skeptical.

"Why are you doing this?"

Chan smirked. "Not sure. I'm not usually this nice. Look, the next race starts in 20 minutes. Is it a yes or no to the deal, princess?"

Silence. Chan let go of her wrists, holding out his right hand to shake. Y/n slowly lifted her hand, placing it in his. The heat from his hand rushed up her arm and into her bloodstream, and the cool metal of his chain link bracelet brushed her fingertips, making her shudder in a haze of delicious heat and ice. Pulling her hand back, she gazed determinedly at Chan, who only smirked, inclining his head.

"You're on."

a/n: whew! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. lmk what you guys think of the first chapter!

49 notes · View notes

suenitos · 1 year

Note

https://twitter.com/altarcurse/status/1706931202375237756?t=NEzN4uaxuhjZyvU5USwMfg&s=19

I feel like someone stapped me

just leaving the transcription here for my own purposes. i stole from twitter but corrected most of what i could

BINK (or BONK): He is so real, people are fake but he’s real, and so genuine- and this music stuff? He's taking it really seriously. He went straight from here to the studio... (unintelligible) ...and it's like- he's sincere, it's like someone gives him a lyric that he likes and appreciates, he'll give that dude credit and this guy'll just pay it forward you know, this guy's real appreciative. And then the people around him? He's taking care of them, whatever he can do to push other people up... (unintelligible) Another thing, he was a highschool quarterback (unintelligible) so that's why he loves football, you know? so he has a real interest for that- yeah, we've been watching football a lot, we're on the same page with that. Right, yeah, he's a very nice guy. I've worked with other artists, and it's basically they're not tryna have a conversation with you. It's kinda out of sight, out of mind, you're there for necessity. But he's kinda, you know, tryna figure out what we do... (unintelligible) He even sent video messages to my kids which was cool. You guys be careful out here. Definitely.

#GOOD FUCKNGI MORNIGN #anon.txt #ask.txt #droncert.txt

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bella-rose29 · 10 months

Text

You Shall Go to the Ball!

Anthony Lockwood x f!Karim!reader

Requested by anon: Hey, I don't know if you accept requests, but I have one. Reader(she is George's sister) accompanies Lockwood&co to the ball at Fittes and she is jealous when she sees Lockwood talking to the girl (maybe reader enemy or something)most of the time. She decides to interrupt the conversation and introduces herself as his wife, while showing the ring Lucy gave her, explaining what to do. A long chapter please😊

I am so sorry that this took so long anon 😭 (I'm also not sure about the title tbh but oh well)

a long chapter this will be! I made the reader George's adopted sister (I hope that's ok!). I also made this super long because I got so carried away and if it deviates from what you wanted then I'm so sorry my lovely

I made it just... a generic ball? I don't know if you had one specifically in mind but I thought it would fit better to have an occasion where they aren't fighting for their lives lol

sorry if your name is Maya bc that is the name of Lucy's crush in this and also sorry if your name is Steph bc she's the enemy of the reader (I had to put names in I'm sorry 🥲)

Word count: 9.8k (I'm doing my bit you guys)

Warnings: swearing, a sexual innuendo or two, bullying (mostly focused on the fact the reader is adopted), lockwood and reader love each other but they haven't done anything about it, tumblr lagged while I wrote most of this so there are probably mistakes, lockwood has some mildly self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of lockwood's suicidal tendencies, there's probably more but idk what

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you would like to be added to/removed from the tag list for my lockwood and co works (or drop me a message!) <3

Y/n was not happy.

She ought to have been, given the occasion, but she was very much unhappy instead.

Lucy was trying not to laugh too loudly, but was failing at her attempts to stifle just how funny she found the whole situation. "You know," she said between breathy laughs, "all of this would be a whole lot easier if you just told him how you feel."

"Nope. Not happening. Every time I try I freeze up and blabber some unintelligible words that make no sense, and I look like an idiot. So no."

The 'him' in question was Anthony Lockwood, the head of Lockwood and Co and resident of 35 Portland Row. Lucy Carlyle, George Karim and Holly Munro lived here too, and as George's sister Y/n had been invited to Lucy's 18th birthday party. It was a small party, only the five of them (six if you included the Skull, but only Lucy could hear it so Y/n didn't), but the atmosphere was lively and music was playing over the speakers George had set up. Banners and balloons stating 'Happy Birthday!' were strewn all over the living room (Y/n could already see Holly's eye twitching at the amount of confetti on the floor), and the boys were busy refilling glasses (another reason not to count the Skull - it had nothing to hold a drink with).

"You have to do it at some point though," she whispered into Y/n's ear. "But right now, you need to move." Lucy pointed in the direction Y/n was supposed to go, and she tilted her head back as she groaned.

"Remind me why you ever made me play this game?"

"Because it's my birthday, and you love me. Go on, unless you wanna forfeit."

"You're evil," Y/n hissed as she pushed herself off of the floor and made her way over to Lockwood. "I'm sorry, again."

"I'm not sure what for, to be honest. You're just playing the game." He smiled up at her from his place by the fire, and Y/n tried to ignore George's glare. "George, please stop looking at me like that. Lucy was the one who dared Y/n to sit on me." Y/n felt her face warm at his words, knowing that this night could only end in disaster for her, and decided to bite the bullet. Huffing, she turned and sat down, her back facing Lockwood as her legs went either side of his, and she let out a small yelp of surprise when his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against him. Lucy only laughed, loud and obnoxious, and Y/n couldn't find it in her to shoot a look, still too taken aback by the feel of being hugged by Lockwood in this way. "You alright?" he asked, voice quiet and gentle in her ear, and she felt his breath on the side of her face.

"Y-yeah. I'm alright. How are you?" She cringed at herself, but his light chuckle reverberated through her and calmed her immediately.

"I'm alright. Quite comfy, actually. You're very warm." As if to back up his point he snuggled in to her shoulder, nose rubbing against the side of her neck, and Y/n almost choked. Instead she made a sort of strangled noise, and he stopped and looked up at her as though he was about to say something. Lockwood opened his mouth, but was cut off by George.

"Okay, she's sat on him, can she go back now? I don't wanna look at this anymore."

"George, Lucy dared her to do it for the rest of the game," Holly piped up, clearly enjoying this as much as Lucy. She also knew about Y/n's feelings for Lockwood, the three of them having had multiple nights where they talked for hours about the other two members of Lockwood and Co, and hadn't wasted any time at all in joining Lucy in her teasing about Y/n's crush. "Rules are rules, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, and it's my birthday, so don't even start to think about asking to stop the game. Besides, they look quite comfortable now, wouldn't wanna make 'em move again, would we?"

"I'm very comfortable, thanks Luce," Lockwood said, his hold tightening on Y/n.

"Y-yep. Perfectly good." Lucy and Holly shared a look, stifling their laughter. George sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, huffing at the scene in front of him. Y/n's brother also knew about her feelings for his boss, and he while he wasn't exactly mad about it, he also wasn't thrilled. She knew that he meant well, and was only looking out for her (especially since Lockwood tended to throw himself directly into danger most of the time), but a little support would be appreciated.

The rest of the game went without much incident, although George did have to stick his hand in the toilet (a dare from Holly that nobody expected, although since her arrival in the house the toilets were spotless so it wasn't much of a trial), and by the time Y/n realised that she should be getting home it was well past midnight.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, um- Lockwood! Hi!" He had just entered the living room where Y/n was stood clearing up (the others had gone up to their respective bedrooms), and she apprehended him in the doorway. "Can you help me call a taxi? I need to go home now and it's really late and-"

"Woah, slow down!" He placed his hands on her shoulders, a smile on his face. "Why don't you just stay over, yeah? It's what, two in the morning? You might as well sleep here and leave after breakfast. Your parents probably expected you to stay here anyway, right?" She nodded. It was a common occurrence for her to stay the night at Portland Row when visiting, since she didn't see them all that much. "So it's not a problem, really. You can take my bed if you like, save waking the others up."

"Lockwood, you really don't have to do that," Y/n started, but he cut her off.

"Nonsense. Holly's stayed too, so I'd feel bad if I turfed you out at this time of night."

"No, I mean giving me your bed. You don't have to do that." He shrugged, then moved to grab a blanket from one of the cupboards.

"I'll be alright, I'll sleep on the sofa. Seriously, Y/n/n, it's fine." He flashed her one of his smiles, and instantly she melted and gave in.

"Ugh, fine. But don't complain tomorrow morning when your back hurts," she wagged a finger at him, exhaustion winning out over guilt about taking his bed as she moved towards the door.

"Alright," he laughed, and Y/n didn't think she'd heard a better sound.

She traipsed upstairs and got ready for bed, and when she fell asleep moments after settling in she dreamed of the brown haired boy downstairs.

~~~

Y/n was sat at home in her room a day or so later when George burst in, arms filled with papers and glasses skewed on his nose.

"I've been thinking," he started, dumping the papers on the end of her bed and flopping next to her.

"Hi, Georgie, I'm doing great, thanks. What am I doing? Oh, not much, just sat here reading a book and listening to music." She sent him a pointed look to which he huffed and lightly slapped her arm.

"Shut up. Hi, how are you? Great, nice, okay. Can you listen to me now?"

"What?"

"So I've been thinking about you and Lockwood, and I've decided I don't mind too much. I mean, it's irritating, really, but technically I don't need to do a boyfriend check because I live with him so I know all his nasty habits and that, and I know that he's loyal to a fault, which is something I should probably raise with him, actually," George paused, frowning as he lost his train of thought.

"Um- okay... Where has this come from? I thought you wanted me to stop liking him?"

"Yeah, but then I had to listen to him pining after you for the last two hours at the Archives and I realised that maybe it would be better if you just got together already." Y/n stared at him in shock, processing the information her brother had just spewed.

"Wait, wait. Lockwood likes me? Are you sure?"

"Completely. This isn't some hypothesis or theory, it's fact. My sanity can prove it because it's nearly all gone."

"Okay, but... you're sure? Like this isn't a joke, right?"

"No! It's not a joke! God, you really are perfect for each other; he said the same thing you know. Didn't believe that I was telling the truth about you reciprocating his feelings. Seriously, you're both idiots for not seeing it, I mean, he let you sit on him a couple of days ago!"

"That was part of a game!" Y/n spluttered, face heating at the memory of his hands around her and his head in the crook of her neck.

"Well he wouldn't have cosied up to me, would he!" Y/n fell backwards against the headboard, hands pressed to her face as she groaned in frustration."You're still not gonna do anything about it, are you?" George was quieter now, and Y/n moved her hands slightly to peer at him through her fingers.

"Correct. I want cold hard proof before I make a proper fool of myself and have to never go to Portland Row again for fear of dying from embarrassment." Now it was George's turn to groan in frustration.

"Well somebody's just going to have to engineer a situation where you confess then, aren't they?!"

"Please, no. I will murder you while you sleep if you try anything." George was impassive when Y/n glared at him, used to her threats of death.

"Fine! I won't do anything, alright! Happy?"

"Sort of." They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, Y/n trying to read her book again but eventually getting too distracted by the mountain of paperwork that her brother hadn't touched since arriving. "What is all that, anyway?" she pointed to the end of the bed.

"Oh, my research for a case we have in a couple of days. I couldn't sit with Lockwood anymore, he was driving me insane."

Y/n rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics. "Do you want help looking through it all?"

"Please. I have no doubts that Lockwood will be doing anything but research right now, and there's a lot to get through. At least I know that you'll stay focused."

"Come on then. Oh, are you staying for dinner? Mum's cooking tonight so you know it'll be good."

"I might do. I get caught up in this stuff anyway so we'll see what time it is. Thanks for the help, Y/n/n."

"No problem, Georgie." She ruffled his hair, laughing when he practically threw himself off of the bed to escape. He landed on the floor with a thud, only making Y/n laugh harder.

"I hate you," he said, sitting up and glaring at her through wonky glasses. "You're the devil, I swear."

~~~

Lockwood and George were cleaning the equipment after yet another successful case when George dropped the chains he was oiling and looked up at his boss.

"I don't get it," he started, making Lockwood glance up with a frown.

"Get what?"

"You barely know Y/n, and you only ever interact when she's here with us, so how are you so hopeless when it comes to my sister?"

Lockwood blushed as he remembered all the times he'd lied to his friends, telling them that he was going on a supply run or heading to the shops when in reality he was making his way to the cafe that Y/n worked at. He spent a good hour or so in there multiple times a week, and sometimes he'd offer to walk her home at the end of her shift, desperate for another few minutes in her presence. Since first meeting her not long after George joined his agency (she'd brought cake, homemade, saying that she wanted to give George a 'congrats on the new job!' present) Lockwood had wanted to be around her all the time; she was like the sun, and everything was gloomy without her. The first time he'd showed up at her place of work, he'd pretended it was a coincidence, acting surprised when he saw her behind the counter. Truthfully, he'd taken a gamble on whether or not she'd be working that day, but the blinding smile that was present on her face as she served customers (although Lockwood could tell it was a fake one) immediately told him that his gamble had paid off.

"Lockwood? Hi! How are you? How's Georgie doing, is he alright? Oh, did you want anything?"

"Just a tea, thanks love," he'd replied, not meaning for the term of endearment to slip out, but her resultant blush was enough to make him decide on repeating it. She started making a cup (he'd asked for it to take away), asking questions every now and then to get his order right, and he answered those as well as her previous questions about George. Eventually, he'd had to leave, paying for the tea he now held and exiting the shop with a promise to come back soon when she'd waved goodbye. It had become a sort of ritual for the two of them, Lockwood appearing a couple of times a week, sometimes to sit at a table with some case files, others he would just get his order to go, but he'd find a way to talk to her every time. On the days when he'd promised to walk her home she would have a cup of tea already prepared for him, sat on his usual table in the corner next to a plate of whatever pastry or cake she thought that he would enjoy. At some point over the years, Lockwood had started feeling his cheeks heat up whenever Y/n smiled at him, or butterflies start up in his stomach when their hands brushed, and eventually he'd had to accept the fact that he was falling in love with her.

"Lockwood? Lockwood! Back to the present, please!" George demanded, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face. He was sure it had only been a few seconds, but George was annoyed all the same at Lockwood's daydreaming. He huffed in frustration, picking up the chains again."You two are insufferable, do you know that? Seriously, just ask her out already. She feels the same and you know it."

"I thought you didn't want me dating your sister?" Lockwood frowned, feeling hope start to bloom in his chest.

"Yeah, well, then I had to sit and listen to you talk about her for two hours the other day and I lost my mind."

"Oh. Well. I wasn't that annoying, was I?" George only stared at him, expression saying 'Are you serious?' and Lockwood had his answer.

"Just, I don't know. You both like each other, so why not? It'll save me from the pining at least."

Lockwood was quiet for a while, mulling over George's words. "I just know that she can do better than me," he eventually said, not looking up from the boots he was polishing. "I don't want her to... regret being with me, or something."

"Lockwood, having spent the last four years listening to her talk about you I can say with confidence that she won't regret being with you. All I ask is that you dial down the suicidal tendencies on cases, yeah? I really don't want to deal with her heartbroken." George's voice was the softest Lockwood had ever heard it, and Lockwood nodded his assent.

"Alright. I'm not making any promises though Sometimes my suicidal tendencies help us stop dying instead."

"I'm not doing much better than that, am I?"

"Nope. I will be slightly less chaotic on cases and that's as much as I can do for you."

"Fine. Keep polishing those boots, you've missed a spot."

~~~

It was a few weeks later when Lucy called Y/n up in a panic, yelling random words down the phone and ranting about something that sounded important.

"Lucy, Lucy! Stop talking for a moment!" The other girl did so, promptly falling silent, and Y/n took a breath. "What's happened?"

"There's this party- ball- thing that Fittes are throwing in like, two weeks, and we have to go because we've been invited but I have nothing to wear. At all. And you always know what to do in these situations so I figured you could help me?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then said "But it's... in two weeks?"

"Yeah."

"So why are you worrying about it right now?"

"Because loads of people have been invited, Y/n! What if the perfect outfit sells out? What if I end up in something I hate because there was nothing else?"

"Wait, wait wait." Y/n sat forward on her bed, pulling the phone off of the nightstand when the cord no longer reached. "Are you trying to impress somebody?" Now it was Lucy's turn to be quiet, and Y/n scoffed in disbelief. "Oh my god, Lucy Carlyle, do you have a crush?!"

"No, I don't! Shut up! Ugh! You are so annoying, for fuck's sake!"

"You totally do! You so have a crush! Who is it? Tell me!"

"I am telling you nothing, you nosey little bastard!"

"Okay, okay! Fine! I will get this information out of you, I hope you know. When do you wanna go shopping then?"

"Today?"

"Jesus, thanks for the notice!"

"A different day then! But we are not leaving it to the last minute like you always do!"

"No, no, it's fine, Luce. Mum's gone full clean mode anyway so it gives me an excuse to get out the house. Make my siblings do the work."

"Aren't you worried about your own room coming under fire?"

"Nope. We did mine yesterday, so I know I'm safe. I'll meet you at yours in twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, alright." They hung up and Y/n rushed downstairs, grabbing her bag and coat and pulling her shoes on, and within a few minutes she was yelling to her parents that she'd be back later and laughing at her siblings when they complained about her leaving them to their mother's cleaning fury.

~~~

"So," Y/n started, her tone supposedly disinterested as she, Lucy and Holly browsed the department store racks for something for the two agents to wear. "Who is it? The person you're dressing up for?"

"Oi, quit it." Lucy sent a glare her way, but it was too late. Holly had overheard and was joining in, and for once Y/n was glad that it wasn't her being questioned about a crush.

"Are we talking about Maya?"

"No," Lucy shot back, far too quickly for it to be the truth, and her rapidly reddening cheeks weren't helping either.

"Is that her name? Oh my god, okay! Wait, what do you know about her, Holly?"

"She hasn't told you anything? Okay, okay, so she's called Maya, works at Fittes which isn't brilliant, but she's sweet enough. Lucy totally wrecked her first impression though, which was hilarious."

"It was not! I looked like an idiot!" Lucy now had her face in her hands, and Holly had moved to link arms with Y/n. It turned out that Lucy had quite literally fallen for this girl after tripping on a kerb when staring at her, and Holly had laughed so hard she had to dash to a nearby toilet.

"Yeah, no, that is hilarious, Luce," Y/n cackled, gaining some glares from other shoppers.

"You can't talk, little miss 'I sat on Lockwood's lap and fucking yelped'!" Y/n opened her mouth in protest, looking to Holly for support, but the girl only shook her head and sided with Lucy again.

"I didn't think anybody heard that," she mumbled, mortified that apparently they had heard, and worse, hadn't forgotten.

"Oh we all heard, trust me."

"Ugh, I thought I was free because Lucy has a crush now!"

"Nope. Neither of you are off the hook," Holly declared as she laughed, and Y/n and Lucy shared a look. "Why did you yelp, anyway?"

"I was surprised, okay?"

"Did he have a flare in his pocket?" Lucy snickered with an exaggerated wink, and Y/n whacked her arm.

"No, he did not! You are ridiculous! He just... pulled me backwards into a hug, and it surprised me," she explained, voice higher than usual.

"Right... okay," Holly said, playfully narrowing her eyes. "Whatever you say!"

"I'm telling the truth!" Y/n called after them as they moved on, and she rushed to catch up.

~~~

"Oh, this store is so much better than that last one, look at the range!"

"Holly, have you ever considered working in retail if you stop being an agent?"

"God no, have you heard the horror stories? No thank you."

They were wandering around the third department store of the day when Lucy gasped loudly and practically ran to a rack of clothes.

"This one. This is the one. Oh, look at it! No, no way! It has pockets?! I am in love, and I can die happy!"

"Lucy, what are you actually talking about? Because we can't see it from here," Y/n said, and Lucy turned around with a wide smile on her face as she held up the dress. It was similar to the one she'd worn a while ago, back before Holly had joined and Lockwood and Co were into theft (they needed a book from the Black Library), but Lucy had wanted a new one given the other was slightly worse for wear.

"Oh, Lucy, it's gorgeous," Holly complimented, and Y/n agreed.

"Yeah, seriously Luce. Go and try it on!"

They ushered her into the changing rooms, and while they were waiting Holly and Y/n had a seat on the chairs nearby.

"What are you going to wear?" Holly asked, and Y/n frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"To the ball? What are you going to wear? You are coming with us, aren't you?"

"Uh, I guess I can. I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. I don't think I have anything suitable to wear though."

"Well we've still got time, we can look around for something! Maybe something that will help you confess?" Holly nudged, and Y/n was just about to stop spluttering in protest and defend herself when Lucy walked out.

"Holy shit, Lucy."

"Yeah, holy shit."

"'Holy shit' in a good way or 'holy shit' in a bad way?" she asked, chewing on her lip and smoothing out the fabric.

"Good way," Y/n and Holly replied instantly.

"You look amazing, Luce, honestly," Y/n smiled, and Lucy returned it.

"Definitely that one," Holly agreed.

~~~

Holly had insisted that they keep looking around the store for something for Y/n (Lucy had agreed with Holly that Y/n 'shall go to the ball!' - she'd even declared it like the fairy godmother), and so they spent the next few hours carrying out the same painful process that they had just done with Lucy.

"Y/n? Is that you? It is!"

Y/n froze at the voice, squeezing her eyes shut in the hopes that if she just kept walking then she would be left alone.

"Y/n!"

No chance of that, then, given she'd been taken by the arm and wrapped in a hug that was entirely too fake and smelt incredibly strongly of perfume.

"Steph, hi," Y/n hoped she didn't sound too displeased to see the girl, but then again they'd never been friends, and Steph had always been a bitch to her.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think shopping was your..." she waved her hands at Y/n, "thing." She glanced up and down Y/n's body, raising her eyebrows slightly and smiling too widely.

"Not really, but I prefer it when I'm with my friends and they wanted to go out," she said, trying to figure out an escape route.

"Oh, so you're not getting anything?" Before Y/n could respond, Steph had already started talking again. "Of course you aren't, you couldn't afford it, what with your family having so many people in it."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Lucy, please don't," Y/n hissed, trying to deter her friend from beating the shit out of her enemy.

"You have no right to talk to her like that, okay? And for your information, she is getting something, and it's going to be a dress that makes her look like the goddess she is, alright? So take your fake brands and irrelevant opinions and shove 'em up your arse!" Lucy ranted, shoving her finger in Steph's direction to emphasise her points. The girl was taken aback for a moment, blinking in shock, then scoffed.

"Whatever. Enjoy your lame dress, Karim. Or whatever your last name is, since we all know that you're adopted." Steph left, her two companions following with a click of their stupidly high heels, and Y/n felt tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes. Lucy was practically growling after them, and Holly had brought Y/n into a proper hug, tight and comforting.

"Well she's a bitch. How d'you know her?"

"School," Y/n sniffed, trying to prevent the tears from falling. "She never liked me for some reason, or maybe I was just easy to pick on because I don't know who my real parents are, but she always made it a point to single me out."

"Right, if she ever comes back I'm punching her."

"Lucy," Y/n berated, although she was laughing a little as she did so.

"I mean it! She's awful! Now, have we looked everywhere in this store?"

"I think so, let's try the next one," Holly said.

"Guys, it's not a big deal, really. Don't let me take up more of your time."

"Y/n, stop being ridiculous. We are finding you a dress and that's that."

"Lucy," Y/n whined as the girl grabbed hold of her arm, Holly taking the other, and led her off out of the store.

~~~

"This one?"

"Hm? No, I don't think so."

"What about this one?"

"God no, I'd look like shit."

"How about-"

"Ew, nope."

Many of their discussions had continued in this manner since leaving the store where Steph had appeared, and Y/n was still trying to find a dress that she loved. There had been many that had looked great, but when she'd tried them on there was something just not quite right, and she'd taken it off with a sigh. Curfew was starting to creep up on the three of them, and Y/n was worried that she'd never find an outfit and have to either go in a potato sack or just not go at all.

"You'll find something, Y/n," Holly said, nudging her shoulder against Y/n's.

"It's not looking very likely though, is it?" Holly didn't say anything, offering a sympathetic smile instead.

"Oh. My. God. Y/n/n, what about this one?" Lucy shouted from across the store (the last one that they hadn't previously looked around). Y/n and Holly giggled at their friend's antics, walking over to see what she wanted them to see. She was holding up a deep red dress, gaping at it with her eyes wide and mouth hanging open like she was a fish. "Ok. No thinking, no questioning, find the dressing room and put this on." Lucy bundled the dress into Y/n's arms and then shoved her in the direction of the changing rooms.

"You sure about this one, Lucy?"

"I'm positive, Holly."

~~~

The two agents were waiting outside for Y/n to appear when George turned up.

"What are you two doing here? Lucy, haven't you already got a dress?"

"Oh, hi George. Yeah, I got one earlier since my other nice dress is kind of old now, but Y/n's trying one on. Why are you here?"

"Apparently my other suit isn't nice enough, so I had to get a new one. Lucky that we've been getting some high paying customers recently that I could afford it."

"When you say your 'other suit', do you mean the one that has plasm stains and holes in it from moths?"

"...Yes."

"She's been in there a while, do you think she needs help?" Holly said after a lull in Lucy and George's conversation.

"I'm fine! Gimme two seconds!" Y/n shouted, and Lucy snickered.

"Wait, why's she trying on a dress?" George frowned, finally registering the fact that his sister was in the changing room.

"Because she's coming with us to the Fittes Ball in a couple of weeks and this girl was being a bitch-"

"Stephanie?"

"Uh- yeah. How'd you know?"

"Y/n complains about her a lot. I think they're arch enemies or something."

"Oh."

"What's she got to do with finding a dress though? Attending the ball makes sense, but where does Steph come into this?"

"Lucy might have shouted that Y/n was going to get a dress that made her look like a goddess," Holly chimed in.

"Ah, I see. So now my sister is... what, trying one on?"

"Yep. You sure you're okay?" Lucy shouted the last part in the direction of a stall, just as Y/n swept back the curtain and stepped out.

"Woah," Lucy and Holly said. George was silent, staring at his sister.

"Good woah or bad woah?" Y/n asked, smiling a little as she remembered Lucy asking a similar thing earlier that day.

"Good woah, for sure," Holly said, Lucy nodding next to her.

"Oh, Georgie. I didn't know you were here," Y/n looked more nervous now, clearly wanting her brother to say something positive.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yeah. I do. I really do."

"You look beautiful, Y/n/n."

"Thank you, Georgie."

"Definitely look like a goddess," Lucy added.

~~~

"Lockwood, hi!" Y/n hadn't expected to see him today, but he had just entered the small cafe that she worked in.

"Hi, Y/n/n, how're you?" He looked antsy, like he wanted to know something, and was shifting on his feet.

"I'm alright... you okay? You look like you have a rash," she said, starting to make him a tea the way she knew he liked it.

"Uh- what? No, I don't... I don't have a rash, I just, well, I heard that you're coming to the ball with us next week?"

"Oh, yeah. The girls convinced me to go. We went dress shopping for Lucy last week and Holly told me I should go with you all. You don't mind, do you?"

"No! No, of course I don't mind!"

"Good, 'cause I already got a dress when Lucy got hers, and it was expensive and I need a justification for getting it or Mum'll be mad." She poured the hot water in, careful not to spill any over her hands (it had happened more times today than she'd like to admit), turning and finishing the tea off, placing a lid on the top of the take away cup. She pushed it across the counter, shaking her head when Lockwood pulled out his wallet to pay. "On the house, you look like you need it." He smiled at her, making her heart flutter, and pushed a fiver into the tip jar next to her as he ignored her protests.

"Thank you. Are you going to get changed with the rest of us? Or do you want us to pick you up from yours?"

"Oh, I was gonna get changed with Holly and Lucy. I'll probably come over quite early if that's alright with you?"

"Of course, you know I don't mind having you over, love. Thanks for the tea!" he called out as he left, unaware of Y/n's blush.

~~~

"Why do girls take so long getting ready for things?"

Lockwood looked up at George's words as he entered the kitchen, folding his paper and throwing it on the table. "Not sure. I'm relatively sure they plan world domination while they do it."

"Makes sense," George shrugged, flopping into a chair and pulling at his bow tie. "They have been in Lucy's room for hours now though. Do you think we need to be worried?"

"I hear them laughing every now and then, so they're still alive at least," Lockwood replied. George hummed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. All of a sudden the two boys heard footsteps thundering on the stairs, and a moment later Lucy's head poked through the kitchen door.

"Please make your way into the hall!" she half shouted, not caring that she was only a few metres away from them and disappearing again. Lockwood and George shared a look, then slowly pushed themselves out of their chairs and moved into the hallway to stand in front of the stairs. A few minutes passed, with hushed conversation barely audible from the top of the stairs, and eventually Holly said "Oh, I'll go!" and came downstairs. She looked lovely in her dress, gold fabric shimmering as she took the steps and ended up at the bottom, Lucy following closely behind in her deep blue (a staple colour for the girl), also looking gorgeous. Lockwood frowned slightly when he realised that Y/n wasn't with them, and when her head poked over the bannister with a worried expression he started feeling nervous.

"Guys, are you sure?" she asked, biting her lip. Lucy and Holly nodded, and George gave her a thumbs up.

"Wait," Lockwood started. "Has everybody seen her dress but me?"

"Yep," George said, the girls nodding behind him.

"So why are you so nervous, Y/n/n?" he called up, frowning.

"I don't know!"

"Just come downstairs!" A loud honk sounded from outside then, and the four agents turned to look in the direction of the sound.

"That'll be the cab," Lucy piped up, heading over to the door. "We'll wait for you two," she winked, and Lockwood felt his face heat up. How did she know about his feelings for Y/n?

"Please don't break her heart, Lockwood. Or I'll deliberately throw badly the next time we're on a case."

"George, no offence, but you can't aim anyway. Maybe if you deliberately aimed badly you'd throw it the right way."

"I mean it. Remember what we talked about the other week, and don't screw it up, yeah?" George patted Lockwood's shoulder, grabbing his jacket and heading outside after the girls.

"Lockwood?"

"Yeah?"

"They've all left, haven't they?"

"Yeah." Y/n didn't answer, instead letting out a groan that made Lockwood chuckle.

"Just come downstairs, Y/n/n. We're going to be late."

"Promise you'll be nice?"

"Why would I not be nice?"

"I don't know! Just promise?"

"Okay! I promise!" He was trying to stifle his laughter in the hopes that she wouldn't take it the wrong way when Y/n appeared at the top of the landing and took his breath away. She was stunning, the dress fitting perfectly and making her look ethereal.

"Lockwood? I look terrible, don't I? I'll stay here, you guys go without me-"

"No! No, don't... you look... you look- pretty," he settled on, wincing at his awkwardness. "You look really pretty, Y/n." He didn't miss the way her smile grew, or the way his face warmed, and when she muttered a small 'Thanks' under her breath his heart stuttered. "We should, uh," he cleared his throat. "We should probably... go..." he trailed off, still blushing. She had come closer and now he could smell her perfume, and when she brushed past him to open the door he thought he might faint from the brief physical contact. What was wrong with him? He was Anthony bloody Lockwood, so why was he acting so foolishly around this girl?

"Are you coming, then? Or are you gonna keep standing there like a lemon?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm- yep."

They packed themselves into the taxi, Lockwood stubbornly ignoring Lucy's smirk as the last two available seats for him and Y/n were right next to each other (which he was entirely certain had been planned), thighs pressed together, and a few moments later they were on the road, heading for the Fittes building.

~~~

"Holy shit, this is insane, Lucy," Y/n gasped, staring around the room in wonder. "Lucy?" She looked for her friend, wondering why she hadn't said anything in response, when she saw Lucy talking to a girl.

"That's Maya," Holly whispered, taking Y/n's arm and looping it through her own.

"God, she's gorgeous. I can see why Lucy likes her." Holly hummed her agreement, taking the two of them on a lap of the room.

"Did something happen between you and Lockwood before you got in the taxi?" she asked after a pause.

"What? No, why?" Y/n's eyes were wide, heat creeping up her neck at the memory of him calling her pretty.

"He can't stop staring at you. He looks like an idiot, to be completely honest." Now her eyes were wide for a different reason, turning to find Lockwood's body in the crowd. Sure enough, he was already looking their way, and after a few moments he seemed to realise that he'd been caught, blushing and rejoining the conversation he was having with George and some agent from Rotwell.

"You sure nothing happened?" Holly asked again, eyebrow raised.

"...Yep." The other girl just laughed, clearly not believing her, and dragged her further around the room.

~~~

"You alright, Luce?"

"Not really," she said, slumping into the chair next to Y/n. "Maya's talking to some other girl and I couldn't relate to anything they were saying, so I left."

"Aw, Lucy. You have been talking to her for what, an hour already? You're not going to have everything in common," Y/n reassured her friend, offering a soft smile.

"I s'pose you're right," she started. "That's what makes a good relationship, right?" Lucy was perking up with every word, sitting up in her chair and leaning forward.

"Yeah, like Y/n and Lockwood," Holly chimed in.

"Yeah, Holly's right. Wait, like- what?! What do you mean?! We're not- he's not-" Y/n spluttered, trying desperately to gain control of the situation after the slip-up and failing miserably. Lucy and Holly were doubled over laughing, clearly finding the situation hilarious, when all of a sudden Y/n shot her arms out to either side, grabbing hold of her friends. "No, seriously, stop it now. Look," she pointed towards Lockwood, hoping the girls would pick up on what was wrong.

"Is that-?"

"I'm gonna kick her arse into next fucking we-"

"Fucking Stephanie," Y/n spat, not missing the way that she was flirting with Lockwood. She hadn't realised the bitch was here, but now that she had it was incredibly difficult to take her eyes off of the scene. Now it was her turn to be gloomy, and every attempt to talk to Lockwood ended with Steph's friends (minions) pushing her back and acting like incredibly non-threatening bodyguards, but Y/n didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of a party that she wasn't technically invited to by shoving back.

Roughly an hour and a half after first spotting Stephanie with Lockwood, Y/n was stood with her back to a wall as she miserably looked on at the two of them somehow still engaged in conversation. The worst part was, Steph didn't look like she would be ending their chat anytime soon, and didn't appear to want to leave. Whether the girl knew about his affiliation with Y/n or not, she wasn't sure, but it was making Y/n increasingly more irritated as the night went on.

"Here," Lucy said, appearing at Y/n's side. "Take this." She held her hand out, one of her rings that she always wore sat in the centre of her palm, the sapphire shining up at her from its place in the centre of the band of silver.

"Uh, why?" A frown settled on Y/n's face, unsure where Lucy's mind was going.

"Because you're gonna go up to Lockwood, big smile on your face, and ask Steph why she's fondling your husband." Y/n could only stare at her friend, wondering what the actual hell had come over her.

"But... he's not my husband?"

"She doesn't need to know that, does she? You two are practically an old married couple anyway, so what does it matter? Besides, if nothing else it's an opportunity to cuddle up to him," she said the last part with a wink, making Y/n flush as she remembered the last time she had 'cuddled up' to Lockwood.

"Well, George is over there, he's not going to play along, is he?" she attempted to find a way out of this situation that Lucy had put her in, but the agent had a solution to everything, it seemed.

"Oh, I told him about this. He's promised to go with it. There was absolutely no way I was gonna let your brother be oblivious, he's a terrible liar sometimes." Lucy was still standing with her hand out, ring gleaming up at Y/n, and she had half a mind to say no and continue suffering until she heard a loud laugh come from the other side of the room. Both girls looked for the source, and Y/n bristled when she realised that it was Steph laughing, hand placed firmly on Lockwood's arm as she leaned into him. Not thinking twice, Y/n grabbed the ring, shoved it on her finger, and marched over to where her new fake husband stood. She squeezed between Steph and Lockwood (difficult, since the other girl had practically glued herself to him) and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to steady her heart as she felt his warmth engulf her.

"Hi, love," she smiled up at him, willing him to stop staring at her with his eyes so wide open in shock and hug her back. He stuttered for a moment, going red, and vaguely Y/n registered Steph's outraged expression in the corner of her eye and George's stifled laughter.

"Uh- hi- hello."

"Y/n? I didn't realise you were going to be here," Steph asked through gritted teeth, obviously annoyed at the interruption.

"Oh, Steph! I didn't see you there! Of course I'm here, why wouldn't I be? My husband got invited and so naturally I was his plus one!" It was petty, she knew, but totally worth it for the look on Steph's face when Y/n emphasised the word 'husband' while smiling lovingly up at Lockwood.

"...Husband?" she asked, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. Lockwood was still rigid as a pole, although he had brought his arms around Y/n's waist after she pinched him in the side. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I second that. Husband?"

"Oh, did I not tell you?" Lockwood hadn't moved his head away from her ear, instead nuzzling further into her neck, and it was becoming difficult to think straight. "We got married!" She flashed the ring at Steph, delighting in both the pure, unfiltered shock on her face and also the way in which Lockwood had moved his hands to hold her body closer to his.

"Well- I- okay then. But one question, for Lockwood?" He pulled his head up, dopey smile on his face as he nodded for Steph to continue.

"Why would you ever marry someone like her? I mean, you know that she's adopted, right?"

Y/n could practically feel George bristle behind her and get ready to punch Steph's lights out, but Lockwood remained calm, his expression sharpening and spine straightening as he took Steph in.

"I don't see how her not being biologically related to her parents affects how much I love her, do you?"

"It's just that-"

"I married Y/n because of who she is, not because of her family, although having George around is wonderful," Lockwood cast a smile at Y/n's brother before continuing. "She's the most incredible person I have ever met, and she far outshines you in every way and I think you know that, and you're jealous of it. I know that I'm jealous of how incredible you are, darling," he turned to Y/n, using the hand that wasn't around her waist to push back a lock of hair, his fingers lingering for a few moments more than was necessary as he smiled softly at her. "And quite honestly, Steph, if you can't agree with me on that then I don't think we have anything else to talk about, do we?" It was a rhetorical question, Lockwood already turning away and linking his hand with Y/n's as he dragged her to the side of the room, but they could hear Steph spluttering being them as they went.

"So," he started once they were far enough away. "What was that all about?" He hadn't let go of her hand, and his thumb had started softly tracing patterns over their intertwined fingers.

"What?"

"I don't remember marrying you, Y/n, unless it happened when I was really drunk or sleep deprived," he joked, although something in his eyes was searching for any hint of truth to the words in her face.

"I just- she's- I-" Y/n took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain the whole thing to him without him getting mad or laughing at her. "Steph's always hated me, and Lucy knows that-"

"What's Lucy got to do with this?" She huffed at him, small frown appearing on her face.

"If you let me finish then you'd know!"

"Alright! Alright!"

"Yeah, so Lucy knows that Steph hates me, and I hate her, and you two were talking for so long and she was all over you and I couldn't keep watching, so Lucy gave me this ring that I think is actually one of mine that she stole," she frowned down at her hand, going off on a tangent, "and she told me I should go over and say we were married to get rid of Steph."

Lockwood didn't say anything, instead just staring at her with a blank expression, and Y/n looked down at their still linked hands.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a while.

"Don't be," he whispered back, using his free hand to lift her chin up. "I'm just a little annoyed, to be honest."

"Oh, god, I really am sorry, Lockwood! I didn't mean to make you upset or anything, I just got pissed off with her and-"

"No! No no no, stop right there. I'm not annoyed at you, darling, never you. I'm annoyed at myself for not coming up with that plan earlier. She was really starting to piss me off too, and I kept hoping that George would intervene or something and he never did- I'm going to have to talk to him about that," Lockwood frowned, looking in her brother's direction. "I'm also... I'm annoyed that this is how I tell you that-"

"Here you are! I was wondering where you two had run off to!" George appeared, bright smile on his face, and Y/n couldn't stop the glare that came onto her face. Tell me what? If only George had turned up a few moments later, then she would know what Lockwood wanted to say. "We should probably find the others, party's wrapping up now and I'm craving my bed." Lockwood heaved a sigh, then nodded in agreement, following after George as her brother tried to find Lucy and Holly, casting a slightly pained glance over his shoulder at Y/n.

Tell me what?!

~~~

The journey back to Portland Row was uneventful since everybody was exhausted, although Lucy was practically buzzing in her seat because Maya had passed on her number, telling Lucy to call her.

"This means something, right?" she exclaimed as they piled through the front door. "I have a real chance with her, don't I?"

"Yes, Lucy. Yes you do," Y/n yawned, leaning slightly on Lockwood to take her heels off. Why she'd ever let Holly convince her that heels were needed when she could have worn her trainers instead she wasn't sure, but she breathed a sigh of relief when the first one was finally off. She wobbled for a moment trying to undo the strap on the other one when Lockwood steadied her, crouched down, and took her leg into his hands as his fingers worked the clasp. A few moments later he was done, gently pulling the shoe off of her foot, and although he had only had his hands on her for what couldn't have been more than ten seconds Y/n could feel her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster.

"Lockwood, what the fuck are you doing?"

"George, they're having a moment, alright? Leave 'em alone," Lucy hissed, taking him by the arm and dragging him upstairs, hushed apologies whispered as he tripped and face planted due to her harsh tugging.

"Good night you two, I'll see you in the morning," Holly said, following after her coworkers and leaving Y/n and Lockwood in the entrance hall alone for the second time in the last twenty-four hours.

"You're not going to bed, are you?" Y/n asked, a knowing smile on her face as she looked at Lockwood. He shrugged, heading towards the library instead of up the stairs.

"I'm not feeling too tired, to be honest," he replied.

"You never feel tired, I swear. Do you ever sleep?" She mock gasped. "Are you a vampire? Is that why you're so pale and are always awake at night?" She broke off into a fit of giggles, exhaustion making her mildly hyper.

"No, I am not a vampire," Lockwood laughed, shaking his head at her antics. "Go on, you should head up. Unlike me you can't run on tea and tea alone."

Y/n nodded, heading for the stairs, but stopped a little way up as she remembered something. "Lockwood?"

He paused in the doorway of the library, turning to face her with one hand still on the handle. "Yeah?"

"What were you gonna tell me before George came over? At the ball? You said you were annoyed that it took you so long to tell me something." A frown had worked its way onto her face, but Lockwood's was filled with a smile.

"Go to bed, darling. I'll see you in the morning." He disappeared into the library, leaving Y/n standing on the staircase staring at the place he had just been.

~~~

The next morning Y/n woke to an empty room, Lucy and Holly nowhere to be seen in the attic. She laid in bed for a little while, soaking in not having to get up and go to work, but eventually the need for food grew too strong and she was forced to start her day.

The kitchen was empty of George, too, and a short investigation led to finding a scribbled note on the thinking cloth that Holly, Lucy and George had gone for a grocery run at the supermarket. That left Lockwood, who was either hiding away in the house or had gone off on his own somewhere. Y/n's question was answered a few minutes later as she was pouring hot water into a mug for tea, and she nearly spilled the liquid all over her hands when Lockwood appeared and asked her to pour a cup for him.

"Shitting hell, Lockwood! Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I was downstairs. Doing a spot of rapier practice. Thanks," he gratefully accepted the mug that Y/n handed him, smiling brightly at her over the edge. She tried desperately to ignore the flush to his skin (and the mental images of Lockwood training), and turned back to her own mug of tea, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment in the hopes that she could go back to thinking normal thoughts. "You alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes! Yeah, yep. I'm fine," she exclaimed, wincing at how the words came out. Lockwood stifled a snort (unsuccessfully) and took a sip of tea, yelping a moment later.

"Shit, that's hot!"

"Why wouldn't it be? You idiot!" Y/n was laughing fully, not bothering to hide how amusing she found the whole situation, and Lockwood was glaring at her from where he stood fanning his mouth. "You literally watched me pour boiling water into that like, a minute ago!"

"I know! I know! Stop laughing, will you? I feel bullied. I'm being bullied."

He took a glass out of the cupboard, filling it up with cold water from the tap and taking a long drink. They stood in silence for a while after that, Lockwood taking tentative sips of his tea while Y/n took large gulps, trying not to laugh at him when the memory of his reaction came back. They were very rarely alone in the house, with at least one other person somewhere and about to walk in, and Y/n decided that Lockwood had nowhere to go so she might as well corner him.

"Why didn't you answer me last night? When I asked what you wanted to tell me?"

He froze momentarily, the tips of his ears going pink as he hid behind his mug and scratched at the back of his head. "It doesn't matter, Y/n/n. Really."

"Well it matters to me, Lockwood. If nothing else the not knowing is killing me. Also I had just dragged you into a marriage with me, and while I do feel bad about that I also feel that you owe me this as well."

"You didn't drag me into a marriage, you surprised me with one," he joked, clearly stalling.

"Okay, fine, but seriously what were you going to say before my idiot brother came over?"

"I was just... going to say that..." he mumbled the last part, all the words smushed together and said quietly so that Y/n had trouble picking them out.

"Sorry, I genuinely could not hear you for the life of me Lockwood," her expression was apologetic, and he sighed through his nose as he looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes before making a decision.

"I was going to say that I was annoyed that it took me so long to tell you that I love you."

"I love you too, Lockwood," Y/n frowned, wondering why he looked so beaten up about it. The five of them often told each other that they loved them, the words thrown around casually all the time.

"No, I mean- I love you, Y/n. To the point that George punches me in the arm sometimes because I won't shut up about how amazing or funny or kind or smart you are."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He hesitated for a few seconds, then spoke up again. "If you don't... I don't want this to ruin our friendship if you don't feel the same way though."

"Why wouldn't I feel the same?"

"You haven't said anything and it's- it's freaking me out!"

"Well I do feel the same! I'm just also freaking out because you love me too!"

"We're a mess, aren't we?" Lockwood laughed.

"Absolutely."

"So- So if I asked you on a date... would you-"

"Yes. Sorry, I- you can finish."

"I mean I think I got my answer, to be honest." He smiled softly at Y/n, placing his mug down and slowly coming over to where she leaned against the countertop. She reached her arms up and draped them around his neck, bringing him into a hug, and his own hands found their way to her waist. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, and then he was whispering "Can I kiss you?" and leaning in when she nodded, pressing his lips to hers gently. They didn't rush, taking their time as they kissed softly, Lockwood's fingers brushing the skin just under her jumper and Y/n's fingers tangling in his hair, and when they pulled away for air they stayed close, foreheads bumping against each other.

~~~

When Holly, Lucy and George got home just over an hour later, arms laden with shopping bags, the silence was deafening.

"I really hope they haven't killed each other," Holly frowned, peering up the stairs as if doing so would help her find their missing friends.

"Maybe they've finally got together and are on a date," Lucy exclaimed, poking George in the side when he wouldn't move out of the way of the cupboard that she needed to open.

"Ow! I'm torn about that. On the one hand if they do get together I'll be glad they've stopped pining, on the other they'll be insufferable. You know what Lockwood's like, all lovey-dovey and attention giving, and Y/n will soak it up like a dry sponge."

"Oh, I found them!" Holly poked her head through the kitchen door, neither Lucy or George having noticed her leave. She lead them to the library, motioning for quiet as she pushed the door open. "They must have been reading and got tired. They totally confessed, just look at them!"

Lockwood and Y/n were curled up (somehow) on the larger of the two armchairs in the library, limbs entangled and hanging off of the arms and a book dangled in Lockwood's free hand, the other wrapped around Y/n keeping her safely tucked into his chest as the two of them slept. George looked like he was trying to be upset, but Lucy could see the smile he was holding off at the sight in front of them.

"We should leave them to it, I s'pose," Lucy murmured, pulling the door shut softly with a small click. "You alright, George?"

"Just thinking about how horrible things will be with them finally together," he replied, rolling his eyes and heading back into the kitchen to start dinner.

"He's not really upset, is he," Holly said, more stating it as a fact than posing a question.

"Nope. He's gonna be singing while he cooks, I can guarantee it."

Sure enough, barely five seconds after Lucy said the words, singing could be heard from behind the closed kitchen door alongside the clash of pots and pans.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #idiots in love

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nanamis-bigtie · 4 months

Text

Round 2: It's a Match!

about, rules & navigation | previous round

After a few hours of browsing the app you settle on nine the most promising candidates. They set the bar of your expectations quite high, and you're itching to finally get to know them a little bit more...personally. Of course, it's still FAR away from making any binding decisions but the first conversation will make for a big part of the final score.

Remember you vote for a character you don't want to advance further! The character with the biggest number of votes will be eliminated.

Profile One: Toji Fushiguro ELIMINATED

Profile Two

The first message comes almost immediately after you swipe right: a simple hi and a quirky kaomoji. You can't help but chuckle: what kind of adult man would type like this? It's a little weird but endearing—and matching the vibe you got to taste from his profile. Well, if you already swallowed that bait, you gotta accept those little consequences.

He types fast—and you catch yourself trying to match his pacing, answering faster than you normally would. Now you understand why he uses so many abbreviations, writing has close to no chance of following his thoughts. Despite that and his general extravagance, he's good at keeping conversation in line—and keeping a smile on your face. He's just so silly and charismatic.

From time to time, when too many typos make his messages unintelligible, you have to pause and ask for explanation. He answers then slower, apologizing for his clumsy hands, too big for his phone, but can hold himself only for a few exchanges before he returns to prior craziness.

Conversation stops as abruptly as it started, leaving you a little uneasy—have you said something he found offensive? He keeps you antsy for a few hours before he returns as if nothing happened, chirping about a snorkeling class he's taking. And then comes a photo. He's showing you colorful shells on open palm, you get a glimpse of blue beach shorts (with a trace of happy trail poking over the hem) and a really good view on his tum, still wet and showing the first signs of slight sunburn. He's not flexing but you can easily spot the outline of his abs and v-cut. That's...a surprise. He didn't look so athletic in the photos you saw before.

Profile Three

It's already dark outside when notification from him finally pops out. You're on your way to a local bar, to catch a glimpse of more traditional adventure hunting, but you change your mind almost immediately. Frankly, you're not quite in the mood for dealing with drunk people right now, and he's just offered you a perfect opportunity to withdraw with dignity to the smaller and calmer bar by the pool at your hotel.

He starts with a profound apology for keeping you waiting and an explanation for his absence. Apparently, he's been invited to a spontaneous bird watching trip and couldn't resist the temptation of trying something new.

As expected after his introduction, he's an amazing conversation partner. You worried you might end up overwhelmed by his volubility, but he smoothly adjusts to your style instead of expecting you to follow his—right as if he knew what kind of thoughts bother you. He even apologizes here and there for being too talkative, giving you the impression that he's not as confident as you assumed at first, hiding his insecurities behind a neatly built wall of pretty words.

Even so, he keeps you awake late at night. There's something about his expression that has you glued to the screen; you put your phone away only two times, for a quick toilet break and for ordering a new drink. You're sitting by the pool alone, cooling your feet in the water and giddy like a teenager talking for the first time with their crush. And if he wouldn't cut the chain first, concerned about your sleeping schedule, you wouldn't be surprised if you survived like this till the morning.

Profile Four

Something tells you he'd wait for you to write first, so you give yourself an appropriate quarter and attack. Funny enough, he answers exactly fifteen minutes later, and shamelessly admits it's on purpose when you playfully point it out.

You're not surprised that he asked if you really read through his profile. What takes you aback is that he apologizes after your confirmation. As if you took a great weight off his shoulders, confirming that your dating goals align and that no, you're not looking for a sponsor for your vacation (well, you already paid for them out of your own pocket anyway).

When you think about it now, after exchanging a few photos as you two chatted about your day, he does give a vibe of someone who could have been interested in a sugar daddy kind of a deal. No suits are spotted but here and there you're flashed with an expensive-looking watch and for lunch he's ordered himself a luxurious set of cheese. The worth of the latter you wouldn't guess but he takes his time explaining every single one of his treats, how it should be paired with wine and fruits, and where exactly you could try sets of similar quality: a few proposals for a few different budgets.

Once you break the ice, he's turned into a decent conversation partner, but he has an ugly tendency for keeping you waiting. You're not sure if he's busy (he hasn't told you much over his lunch and vague plans for the afternoon) or just likes to keep you on edge. He's still hard to read to you and has some liking for flirty teasing.

Profile Five

After over twelve hours of silence, you're ready to assume he ghosted you. Maybe he changed his mind when he looked at your profile again, maybe he already found someone to occupy his time, maybe swiping you right was an accident. It's a little pity but you don't want to grieve over it, not with so many other options available.

But you wake up to a message sent at 5am. Who in their sane mind would be awake so early on a vacation? Well, you're up early too, your stomach demanding a visit at the hotel buffet, so you can't really judge him. Plus, he could be still awake after a party...or rather from some other kind of all-night escapade, since he didn't give you the impression of a party-hard guy. Either way, his next answer comes almost immediately, so he keeps you company during the breakfast.

Majority of your conversation is taken by comparing your meals. He's still quite dry and formal but way more open, compared to how he presented himself in his profile, as if talking about food genuinely excited him. He opted for a typical hotel-style buffet, but he still took almost artistic photos of what he had on his plate. Its amount could feed a small family too and when you jokingly point it out, he admits he's here to enjoy his life to the fullest, so he's not trying to tame his gluttony.

Before you part, you manage to squeeze the name of his hotel out of him. It's on the same side of the town, thirty minutes or so by foot, if you chose to walk by the beach. You take it as an interesting sign.

Profile Six

Right in the first message he apologizes for being busy today. But if you don't mind having the conversation chopped by longer breaks, he can lead it this way without a problem.

You don't mind, at least for now.

Out of necessity the conversation leans more towards his part of the day. You can't pretend you're not curious (and a little wary, you would rather not be a sneaky date for a man who plays a perfect husband or dad on the other side), and he doesn't mind sharing, at least as much as it's appropriate for this level of proximity. Apparently, he's accompanying a good friend of his during a cooking competition. It doesn't take you long to google which hotel holds it but from a few photos they shared on social media you can't spot him anywhere. Given his appearance and posture, it wouldn't be hard; apparently the official camera is not on your side today.

Frequency of his messages increases closer to the evening. He returns your curiosity and prompts you to share glimpses of your day. He even gets you to send him a photo; you promised yourself to not share too much but something about his tone—both soothing and somewhat demanding—has changed your mind. You send him a selfie that reveals a little more of your body compared to what you posted in your profile. Maybe it's a little bait, maybe an earnest opening for flirting.His answer, a very subtle compliment, is a pleasant surprise. And so is his selfie taken for you, tactfully keeping the same amount of skin revealed but very deliberately underlining his big assets.

Profile Seven

At first, the exchange has more in common with interrogation than with a normal conversation. He's so unwilling to talk it gets on your nerves but as soon as you don't answer for longer, he sends another message, so you assume there is interest on his side, just something stops him in his tracks. Maybe he's shy, maybe he's awkward, maybe he's busy, maybe everything all at once.

His desperation to salvage the mood eventually pays off as the conversation becomes more natural. He apparently needed time to warm up to you and your vibes, his messages lose stiffness with time, and he even starts talking more about himself instead of trying to squeeze approval out of you. He's still not on the level you would call a good conversation but he remains interesting enough for you to poke at his shell over and over again.

You just can't help but wonder how far his patience will reach and how much you can bring out of him before one of you two gets tired with this wary dance.

And if he's not a surprise. You assumed he would give up after three hours at best—but he keeps returning. At some point he even dares to compliment you and that's where you perk your ears up more out of enthusiasm than only out of curiosity. It's been...a while since someone told you something so smooth and almost erotic while staying in the appropriate line. In seconds he turns you from almost bored to a little flustered, to the point you lose the upper hand in the conversation.

You can't help but wonder if his distanced demeanor from earlier wasn't just a smart bait.

Profile Eight

It's not the first time you're immediately asked out by your match, but it still takes you by surprise. You didn't expect it from him in particular and you feel a little disturbed by this sudden confrontation with reality. You decline, tad disappointed that a person so promising significantly lowered his chances with the mood-ruining hurry. A hot fling is your goal, yes, but you would rather take some proper time to assess if he's a person worth that adventure.

And another surprise—you misread his intentions! You're relieved to learn he just wanted to pass you a word about a fun party in a club he knows, not to go there with you with one goal in mind.

He's not a tourist but lives with a relative and helps around in exchange for some "pocket money" he saves for a rainy day during the next term of college. It's not his first summer rodeo and he knows the area through and through. You propose a little game to test his knowledge: you give him very vague descriptions of your surroundings and prompt him to guess where you are now.

He makes the right guess after the fourth clue.

At times you forget you're on a dating app, with the way he advertises you the best spots all over the area and even starts to adjust them to your preferences. But you don't really mind it, he's cheerful and tickling the right parts of your mind. If only he didn't avoid any romantic inclinations like a plague, you surely would catch yourself regretting you declined that party invitation instead of letting the misunderstanding flow.

Profile Nine

You suspect this is going to be a tough row to hoe and with every exchanged word you're only hugging yourself over your intuition more. He somehow hangs in there but he's so shy it's cute and painful at the same time. At least you can read between his words that he's a rather good-natured man but someone less patient would probably abandon the conversation a long time ago.

He's prone to jokes and flirting but answers precise questions without any hesitation. For a try you share a link to your favorite Spotify playlist, and it does wonders to the ice breaking process. This way you finally learn the root of his interest in music and rather original appearance: he's in a semi-amateur band and works in one of more alternative clubs around to support his younger brother's education.

Overall, a sweetheart and a little bit of a nerd. Awkward but a sweetheart, nevertheless.

Despite everything, the words are coming together, and you manage to lead the conversation for him while not feeling frustrated with it. He's surprisingly mature and genuinely trying to connect with you, with time shedding the awkward shell and letting himself be bolder with his questions. Your profile has definitely been scanned profoundly for all possible conversation topics and something tells you he has a list of them on him because their order is weirdly particular.You even manage to convince him to share a selfie, still curious how he will present himself in his own eyes. He's striking handsome in a kicked-puppy way, with a rather athletic build to it—which you didn't expect at all.

Profile Ten

The moment you see a message from him—about an hour after you matched—you brace yourself for a tough battle. Given how mysterious he presented himself, you're ready to assume this is going to be another pull-by-tongue marathon or contrary, honest and precise to a fault statement that he wants to only fuck, no sentiments and flirting needed.

You're pleasantly surprised to be welcomed with a smooth, natural conversation.

Oh, he has the power of a preacher, you realize as the upper hand you had at the beginning just slips out of your reach. He's 100% in his element, playing that meticulously designed game of a cat and mouse. Indeed, you feel like a little mouse observed by a bird of prey perched somewhere above your head. And more, you find yourself curious how it is to be grabbed between talons.

He's not the kind of a man who would take advantage of it, though, as he keeps appropriate distance and never allows himself to go further than some smooth yet very cautious compliments. It's too considerate to pass as a part of a calculated strategy...probably. When you think about it after putting the phone away for a moment, he could convince you to believe in anything with all that smoothness. But you just can't stop yourself from reaching for it again as soon as you see a notification. Your instinct prompts you to trust him and his intentions for now.

Maybe it's that gentle smile you can somehow feel from the words on the screen. Despite everything, he's soaked in nice vibes.

Plus, he's hot.

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